#BARE HANDS??? WH

[mcl-mia]

@eye-cri #so true hiro.... Zeus is sooo 😢😢😢❤️❤️❤️❤️#gods#i wonder. does jay ever get upset / irritated of any sorts at Zeus's attitude?

//tl;dr, not really! jay finds zeus absolutely hilarious and finds it hard to take him seriously (most of the time). she thinks he's got a good heart, so even though she (playfully) bullies him relentlessly, she's never, like, too harsh on him. she'd never consider dating him or anything, but zeus is one of the first people she hits up during sleepless nights so they can talk about pretty much everything.

[thefandomexpert]

bro they are on tumblr. they posted that.

[tonycries]

STICKYYY

Synopsis. His new year’s resolution? To knock you up!

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Higuruma x Reader, Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, babyféver, BRÉEDING, creampíes, buIges, mentions of kíds, cervíx kíssing, full neIsons, GOJO’S POWERS, ínnapropriate use of jujutsu, PÚSSYDRÚNK JJK MEN, marathons, true form Sukuna, dp, Sukuna’s second mouth, p talking, cúmplay, spítting, making it fit, use of “ma’am”, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. Be honest can y’all tell that I’m ovuIating…

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - FEVER!

“T-Tooooji-”

You’re being oh-so-easily shut up with just three stinging slaps! of Toji’s hefty, swollen tip. Strawberry-red, and just as angrily plump. Making such a mess when he’s smearing between your treacly walls in a gluey kiss - like he never wanted to let go. 

And you never wanted him to.

Not even when he’s rolling his eyes with a mean titter, “Don’t remember my heh- birthday gift includin’ this chatty mouth of yours, doll.” A singular, masculine palm sheaths over your deliriously slack maw - rough. “S’even more talkative than her-”

But it was impossible not to be after these hours upon hours.

Impossible for your sloppy entrance to not drawl out resoundingly filthy slurps every time Toji’s scooping his buttery seed back in with his vicious fingers.

“Ya realize that’s supposed to stay ah- inside, ma?” Wrangling your legs open into a rude full-nelson to leave a sappy smack! at that gooey heaven right between. Toji sounds so utterly sullen at the waste, “How m’I gonna get myself a daughter if ya can’t keep it in, hm?”

It was a rhetorical question - and Toji was fucking you like it was.

Sculptured, beefy biceps barely even flexing at the practically non-existent struggle to manhandle your thighs open. It gave you both such a perfect view - of your saturatedly glossy pussy folds being constricted around his lazily sinking size. Struggling. Goopy masses of Toji’s honeyed cum from just prior being drooled out after every syrupy squelch-

“Mouthy fuckin’ cunt.”’ You’re hearing him whisper from right behind you, puffs of condensed air hitting the tender spots on your neck and making you keen. “Makes me wonder- heh- who the babyfever got talkin’ more. You or her.”

He was babbling nonsense - and you were, too.

The raw ruptures of his bloated head making your jaw droop stupidly open, lashing around your heated insides to probe up rigorously against those sweet spots. Toji Fushiguro had no relent - he had no mercy. 

Because he was promised another damn brat for his birthday, and he wanted one now. 

“N-now?” Your heart-eyes are bulging out, the trembly waver in your voice shrilling upwards after every drag of his balloony tip down the span of your elastic cervix. Oh, shit, did he say that out loud? Whoops. “Toji wh-what if it hasn’t ngh- taken yet-”

Toji’s cutting you off - urgent. Spitting, as if those mere words shouldn’t be spoken out loud. “Move that hand f’me-” Couldn’t even wait the few split-seconds it takes for you to shuffle your carefulling covering hand away before flinging it off with a rude swat. “-touch that lil’ bulge- ngh- wh-where I am. Feel me.”

Your fingerpads are shaky - unstable. Caressingly feeling for that riotous smooch of Toji’s bawling fat tip peppering tiny kisses onto your cervix. Your womb. 

The blood in your veins boil with sheer need at the rounded globular edge, pressing down hard in just the way you knew that would drive Toji wild. Making his weighty breeder balls flinch with a harsh thwack! “See? Feel that? How m’alllll up in that cute womb? Bold of you to think that you’ll fuuuuck- walk outta this bedroom not pregnant, mama.”

He was determined. Feral.

Every puncturing rut had your spine arching into the most perfect curvature on top of him. Your back pressing heatedly in a lecherous massage against his heated skin, so bumpy with every flexing ab and muscle. 

You couldn’t help but feel so…ruined. In the best way.

“I-is that a promise?” You’re craning your head over your shoulder, batting those tear-clung lashes in a way that makes Toji’s willowy eyes widen. Tongue pinpointing his sinful scar once his mouth waters. What a dangerous little thing you were. “Wan’ you allll inside, Toji—”

Yeah, dangerous alright.

“Can’t have it alllll inside if yer hngh- lettin’ this cunt drool.” You’re squealing when a few calloused pads of his strongly thick digits pry open your slobbering mouth agape. Letting your tongue loll out lazily for him to splatter a honeyed wad of saliva, “Tha’s what that hngh- filthy mouth gets.”

Before in the blink of an eye, he’s bullying a few free fingers between the pursed pucker of your sensitive folds until he was knuckle-deep. Rummaging out into the geysering orifices hidden against your melty walls, he’s knotting up the ribbony ropes of his creamy seed from trickling out. 

Can’t have his pretty girl wasting a single ounce, now. How could he?

“And for my cutely ovulating wife…” You could barely even hear him above the thundering plap! plap! plap! of skin-on-skin, in such a cottony state of mind that you just register when you’re being gifted with another quick stream of spit lacquering your tongue. “-ya get- this.”

And it wasn’t just the slewing volumes of spittle that your open jaw was being splattered with.

It was the way you were cumming - without even realizing. Without even registering the uncountable heaps upon heaps of edging whines that flood your mouth, vision sparking white hot.

“M’cumming-” you’re gasping out. One limping hand bravely rovering to clutch onto Toji’s sweat-slicked locks and pull, “M’cumming m’cumming- ah! Toji–”

“Yeah yeah, e-easy on the merchandise, doll.” He’s groaning, but you can almost catch the way that he swallows. The way that his heavy balls shift with purpose underneath that girthy base to squeeze. Pulling taut. “Jus’ s-sit still n’ let me breed this ngh! goooood fuckin’ pussy like the good girl ya are.”

With a shudder, you feel like you’re being split-apart - more so than you already were.

Head buzzing with fuzzy little explosions at the thudding splatter! of just about the nth glaze of his seed scouring your deepest gooping insides. You’re being covered over and over in every tiny ridge and sweet spot with whipped icings of his potent cum.

And you can feel it almost knocking at your womb, creamed globs of it sliiiiding all the way down your walls with a promise.

“God…” You feel so full. Like your rubbery cunt was inflated widely enough that you think you might just burst. 

He’s scoffing, “Toji works jus’ fine.” 

“S-so cocky-” Head swimming cockdrunkenly with every jerking grind up into you, he’s slinging out the filthiest driveling squelches! that halfway drown out your pretty noises. What a shame.

“Oi oi, shut up-” But not to you. Toji simply can’t help but laugh - and if you were in any better state of mind, you’d have huffed at the sheer audacity. Gleaming ivory teeth snagging down onto your tender earlobe, “-the h-heh…mother of my kids is talkin’.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Hubby material.

“Hands on the wall now, darling.” Nanami’s throaty order is spoken gently. Lovingly. But you knew better than to not listen - hastily planting your splayed-out hands onto the cool kitchen wall. “Good girl. Now gimme a little show.”

“Kentoooo-” That slutty arch of your back was almost embarrassing, and you’re sure that if it hadn’t been for the strong arm circled underneath your hips then you’d have been weakly collapsed on the floor. “J-jus’ put it in- already-”

“Shhhh- patience, my love.” Your dear husband is rewarding your pitiful whines with a sudden swat! right onto the jiggling mound of your ass. Tutting with every soothing squeeze of his massive palms, that glinting wedding ring cold against your stinging flesh. “Patience s’the number one trait a good parent should have.”

And he’s so proper. 

Or…at least it seems. 

Because those cracking whimpers spilling their way between your lips only make Nanami greedier. The slight tremble of your thighs when your teary slit douses the tile below with a sticky puddle of slick driving him wilder-

“I- I know-” you’re huffing, head craned with an oh-so-irresistible pout. “B-but a good parent should also be ngh- punctual.” 

Punctual? Nanami Kento was always punctual. 

To every date, every meeting, every appointment - everything but right now when he feels his swollen pink tip twitch at your smart little backtalk. Biting down on the hollowish insides of his cheek to keep that dark chuckling from slipping through.

“Hmmm…” Nanami’s letting his rich baritone drawl, perfectly knowing the way that it was enough to make your thighs squeeze together needily. He’s tapping a soft massage down your curved spine, “Let me think…you really think a good- hah- parent should be punctual, darlin’?”

“Mhm–”

“Y’know I always trust your judgement…”

And it’s so cute the way you can only nod and nod, babbling. “Y-yes. Please- Ken, need it- want it-”

Well then, if his wife says so. Right? 

You’re barely even given the time to fucking breathe in a steadying gulp of the heady air before whatever remnants of it are being fucked out of your lungs. 

Oh…this was a change.

Because there was something about the way that Nanami was shoveling all his long, solid inches into you with almost-reckless abandon. Something rough, something…carnal. 

Like every heaving breath had his poor sanity fraying. Guiding one hand to wrap around his hefting hilt and smear away your adhesive-like folds with the globular mountain of his mushroom tip, the other steadied at the bottom of your back to angle you bent even deeper-

The stretch.

Fuck, the stretch - Nanami was so big. His incredible girth bullying past that taut first ring of muscle and peaking up into those spots without even trying. So fully encompassing each and every hidden nook inside your gooey walls that you always end it wanting more more more- 

“Momma’s always gonna ngh- know best, hm?” Nanami’s hiccuping into your ear, flecks of golden blond sticking to his prespired skin and yours once he kisses away your cockdrunk splatters of dribble. “Awww, n-none of that hngh! drooling now, s’gonna make ya dehydrated n’ that’s not good for the baby, darlin’.”

You’re feeling a softened thumb glide along your lips to tenderly clean off the messy streaks of spittle. “Th-thank you, Ken-” Looking up at him with literal hearts for eyes, “-gonna be the best daddy.”

He was. He was going to make sure of it.

But hearing that from you? 

Shit, Nanami has to sneak down a pinch at the side of his muscular leg just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming or in heaven right this very moment. 

Pulpy surfaces of his toned thighs smushing up against your own, he’s finding himself bending ever-so-slightly a few degrees at the knee to lessen the burden on his poor wife’s legs. Making your ears ring with the filthy paps of his hip-bones ploughing vigorously into your ass. 

Bruising your skin, your cervix, your hips once one of his free hands scurry underneath you to take the pressure off of your ever-weakening hips. Crushing your back tightly against the rippling planes of his sculptured front.

And Nanami’s cooing gruffs come out scorching against the sensitive side of your ear, “C-can’t put too much ah- strain. S’not good for the b-baby…for my girls.”

Girls - not just one.

Nanami wanted two lil’ daughters that looked exactly like you, and loved you exactly as much as him. A blissful image of his little family drawing itself clearer and clearer with every smack! against the fat of your cervix. Tight. Close. 

“Gonna take c-care of ya-” He’s inching his bludgeoning tip to slobber a fat stripe down the door to your womb, accompanied by an innocently tender peck against the side of your forehead. “Reeeal good care. A-and then…”

“And then, Ken?” 

“Then- m’gonna-” You can only gasp when Nanami cranes his neck over to where your open palms are still positioned on the smooth wall. Glassy eyes ogling the twitch of the veins running down his throat when he’s placing a soft smooch right on your wedding ring, “-m’gonna marry ya all over again.”

Nanami Kento is sure that he’ll be renewing your vows every year. Every single week. Every single day - even after your daughters are born - perhaps if only you’d let him. If only you’d keep singing out his name in a sultry whine exactly the way you always do when you cum.

Head tumbling backwards with the sheer power of it, body wracking with boiling peaks of your high. Again and again and again-

“There we go, there- hngh- ready, my love.” He sounds so proud. So fucked. And you know you’re not imagining it when the rugged callouses of Nanami’s fingers dart around your throat to drag you into a steaming hot French kiss. One that left his weighty balls squeezing dangerously- “S’about to get…messy.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Baby SHOWER

“Oh shiiiiit, girl.” Geto’s rolling his eyes, softly rounded fingertips rovering down from its second-favorite position around your neck all the way down to his most favorite - smearing open your thoroughly stuffed pussy lips to pinch your puckering clit. Glazing his long five-inch digits with a treacly lamination of your translucent squirts. “Didn’t think you’d be so ngh- messy. S’this all f’me?”

Yes. yes, yes yes it was.

But you couldn’t mangle out the syllables right now - don’t think you had it in you to even try. Not with the way that he’s planting three sappy smacks! down your slobbering cunt. Snickering at the throaty little S-Suguruuu letting off from your lips-

“Ah ah- needy. Can’t even t-talk properly, huh?” And, fuck, was Suguru Geto ever-so-grateful that your copious amounts of orgasms tonight left you already fucked stupid. Because your saturated mind isn’t catching onto the way his rumbling baritone wobbles, the way he has to gulp before muttering. “Now, gimme a kiss. Heh, gimme a ngh- kiss n’ I might just cum inside to give you a little…daughter.” 

The only thing you’ve wanted for so long now. 

But Geto always did find you the cutest when you were teased. When you were split-open on his mean cock and whining for him to fill you up with each deeply vulgar stroke. It made him only want more. 

Made his palms stretch your jittery thighs even wider in his filthy little mating press, like a gooey little banquet for him. Pearly canines showing off in such a snarl when you’re lolling your head upwards to press a few drawling smooches against the corner of his pretty lips, “O-oops. I missed, Suguru.”

“Try again.” Well, he has to build up the patience for raising his future daughter somehow, right? 

Locking your ankles around that neck of his with only one strong arm, and the other grappling dexterously around your throat to drag you down. You’re being manhandled - unapologetically.

“But-”

“Again.”

“W-wan’ it insideee- wan’ a baby.” you’re squealing when his plummy cockhead spatters a few steaming hot dewdrops of pre against your poor cervix. Rutting out solid pound after pound. Each one making you desperately catch his chin, his jaw, his lips in a few drunken kisses. “Please, Sugu?”

Damn.

Damn that evil, evil nickname of yours. 

And he really can’t help but steal a greedy peak down at your drooling cunt, scoffing at the way he feels his parted maw slip through a few rivulets of drool at the fucking sinful sight. 

Your gummy pussy being molded wiiiidely open around his rummaging cock. Glossy rings upon rings of your sugary slick and his creamy pre being drenched upon every single inch that was bullied inside. Even more so when those bumpily inflated veins of his graze right against your forbidden sweet spots. 

And Geto couldn’t stop his light-headed bout of laughter, teasing. “Second opinion?”

It’s almost as if every battering ram had your overfilled pussy talking back to him. 

“C’mon- speak up.” He’s hastily swiping away the curtains of his silky black tresses sticking to his clammy forehead, yearning to hear those lecherous noises from below better. Before curling his engulfing palm once more around your delicate throat, “Not you- Oh? Mmmm-”  he’s huffing out, ears craning. “If you say so, girl.”

Not to mention that you hadn’t uttered a single word. 

But to Geto that didn’t matter, to him it was all he could do to nod along sappily as if having the most intriguing of conversations with your bulging cunt.

Nuzzling into the treasure trove of the crook of your neck, he’s gulping in your pheromones. Shuttering out hot puffs of words between every bludgeoning thrust, “Aren’t I so nice? Listenin’ ta what she says. Yer real lucky s’me fillin’ up this pretty ngh- pussy, gorgeous. Real lucky- because…”

“B-because- what?” You’re hissing, eyes decorating with puddles of oversensitive tears. They trek down your cheeks and make Geto groan once his ravenous tongue laps up every salty ounce. 

“Because when I breed you, m’gonna do it right.”

A promise. 

One he was already halfway through fulfilling if the way that Geto’s staggeringly full breeder balls were twitching against your slamming mounds of flesh told you anything. Urged you. Pushed and pulled with every mounted pump-

“G-gonna be all round and full, arent’cha, ngh- my gorgeous baby? Glowing?” And he was ruining the both of you. Brows marrying closer and closer with every cozy sheath, your clingy walls made his thickly swollen shaft just flood your spongy pulpy cervix with wiry ropes of precum. “Heavily pregnant?”

“Y-yeees-” Gaze heart-eyed and crossing diagonally together, you’re barely even noticing it when your dear lover rests his damp forehead against yours to pucker his lips and grace your tongue with a heavy wad of saliva. “Want it all, Suguru– a-all ngh- deep inside.”

“All?” He’s echoing, and something in his pupils amethyst pupils darken. Something in his voice hardens. Movements jittery and coated in a shimmer of awe when he strays one of your hands down to soothe over your tummy, “Sure ya e-even have the space? M’right-” Pressing down - hard - on that plump rotund tip of his driveling deeply down inside. “-here, y’know? Where our h-heh, daughter’s gonna be.”

Oh. Motioning out a lethargic nod, “All.”

Because Geto only lets his mind shatter for a split-second, his entire muscular body jolting. Fuck. You were going to be the fucking death of him.

Before giggling. Giggling. All drunk on your pussy and you, “Th-then- then, say it with me. Ngh- t-tell me you’re ready for the hah- biiiig stretch, gorgeous.”

“M-M’ready for-” Shit, so embarrassing even despite your barely-lucid state right now. “-the big stretch-”

“Uh uh- the biiiig stretch. Say it with me-”

Practically sobbing with need now - and your poor cunt wasn’t any different. You swear you could feel a sloshing pool of lewd juices forming right below you. “Fuck! Sugu- Suguru, m’ready for th-the ngh- biiig stretch.”

“Then…” he’s practically purring with delight. Ah, finally. “-fucking cum f’me, pretty momma.”

And when you do it’s riding upon the waves of his, too. 

Seeing white, the peaks of your now-fragile high being ruptured and dragged out with every sticky waterfall of Geto’s aqueous seed. 

Treacling into the narrow orifice of your sloppy hole, you could feel every swabbing ribbon slip and slide its way inside. Deeper and deeper every time Geto was fucking each voluminous ounce back in, in, in-

“Now now, what did I s-say…” Splattering out another sugarcoated douse of streaming spit onto your tongue, Geto is in no way shy about punishing your sopping wet slit with a resounding thwack! Tutting at the buttery white lipstain seeping from the corners of your puffed-up pussy and making such a filthy mess at his thickened base. “Look at all that ah- wasted. Mouthy pussy o’ yours said you could hah- take it all, but s’ like a shower.”

Your lips part when he’s pumping you doubly full with his relentless digits, shovelling back the velveteen slathers of his own seed back in. “Suguru…”

“Guess I jus’ hafta fuck ya full all over again.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Boys boys boys

“C-can you ah- hold my hand for this ngh! first time, baby?” He’s hiccuping out like a mantra - a prayer - after every sloppy peck of his ruddied tip onto your adhesive-like folds. Choso’s poor heart barely working up enough courage to dab a slow circle around your quivering entrance. 

And he didn’t know what to do. What to expect but…the only thing that mattered was that he had you.

“Awww, of course, Cho—” It makes him so fucking shy how your warmly cooing tone is all it takes for his achingly hard cock to twitch. Mind shattering into a zillion shards as one hand of yours sweetly laces with his, “No need to be- ah- nervous.”

It was unfair - it was so fucking unfair. 

You were driving Choso wild - absolutely feral with just a singular plap! of your rounded ass ricocheting down to ride your dear boyfriend free of his fucking soul. So tight. And…heavenly. 

He didn’t read anywhere online that it was supposed to feel this good. Curving your sultry birthing hips in lecherous little circular motions that have his dewey eyes battered in tears-

And that was the fucking problem. Your hips. Your cute cunt. You. 

“Fuh-fuck. So soft and warm…” Making him curdle out a few whining whimpers from between his plumped lips, puckering into an oh-so-cute pout as Choso bats his long lashes up at you. “Didn’t ah- didn’t know a p-pussy could feel so ah- good.”

He didn’t know what to do but let his slagging maw drool around where he was lathering the fleshy mounds of your tits with his syrupy saliva. Sucking. 

Neat brows knitting at the way there was no milk - didn’t that manual say humans produced- ah, not yet. Not unless…He could faintly feel something in the very back of his melty mind sparking. “B-baby…”

“Mhm?” And oh, you could get used to that tone. Seeping out into Choso’s prettily rumbling voice whenever he got just a tinge too pussydrunk. Babbling. “Cho– what h-have I ah! said about talking with your mouth full?”

Fuck- Choso didn’t even register what he was doing - register what you were saying. Roughened pads of his tastebuds gleaming down your nipples for a solid few seconds before he’s gurgling out, “I- I want…”

You’re humming. God, he was so pretty like this. Handsome features blushing strawberry red at your half-lidded gaze and the way your clingy walls were smooching his bloated, mushroomy tip so tight. You had no mercy. “Yeeees?”

“I want a son.”

Oh.

Oh.

And just as soon as that sodden little confession is spilling from his lips - tumbling out like he didn’t even mean to formulate the words - Choso sees white. And he feels it, too.

Feels himself lathering your gooey cunt in heaps upon heaps of his torrential cum. Dousing thick, creamy swabs that pinpoint all your most tender orifices for him to dig into. So hot. Heavy. Swashing around in slight treacles at your thoroughly opened insides like a gluey second skin. And the rut of his hips is so animalistic - up, up, up with every ounce of cursed power he has. 

Part of him knows he’s fucking pathetic to be cumming so early from just that - even if it was his first time.

But he doesn’t give a fuck.

Not when your pretty pussy had him seeing his future with you. Seeing stars - and you right there in the middle, holding onto a giggling bundle with his hair, and your eyes. 

Not when his calloused fingers are latching onto your waist like he was planning on never letting go. And Choso’s jaw simply drops at those velvety ribbons of milky white spattering from your drooly cunt and sliding down the ladder of washboard abs. 

You were clenching around him so cozily. So hypnotizingly. Perfect enough that…

Something snaps. 

“Oh god-” he’s gasping, eyes wide - wild. Slender digits carving out neat crescents so harshly against your perspiration-simmered skin. Entire body hunching to French kiss the valley between your tits, “Oh god oh god oh…god…s-s’not enough. It’s not- I-I don’t think it took. Need to- to get you pregnant, baby.”

Sounding so genuinely devastated. You’re shivering at the warm splat! of his big, pearly tears between your bodies - lower lip wobbling at that heavenly slight right in front of him.

Of course it wasn’t enough. And, right now, Choso thinks it never will be.

His pretty lips are just letting out intoxicated nonsense by now. And during times like this, you really forget just how strong your beloved boy is. 

How…greedy he is.

Because those electric aftershocks of his syrupy high had barely even passed. Barely even started to bate before he’s leveraging his superhuman strength to easily flip the two of you over. 

You’re being crushed pliantly and helplessly in half between those drenched navy bedsheets and his flexing muscles. 

Choso was just melting into you; saliva-glossed mouth slacking into a condensed kiss against your own, forehead desperate and feverishly hot resting against yours, big, beefy arms caging you in. 

You could feel that sappy thwack! of his tight, globular balls smearing against your ass once more. That split, peachy cockhead of his skates right down your headily sweltering walls to gift a puckered snog against your cervix. And another. And one more. And just one more-

“H-hey…come back t’me.” He’s huffing out in lethargic little pants, palms clasping onto the crown of your head and pushing you down. Down. Down. Filling you up with his girthy cylindrical shaft until you were fucked stupid. He’s begging, “Hear me out- no zoning out, m’kay? Need you ta g–give me a baby, m’kay, baby?”

And despite the broken pleas that were flooding into his mouth, you couldn’t do anything against the way that Choso’s body was pinning yours down with hungry pound after pound. Fuck- is this what they say? About losing control? About…baby fever?

God, the thought is enough for him to curl his hips sleazily backwards until you’re squirming. Letting the fountain of opaquely milky seed gush! down your inner thighs with the wettest of squelches. They ring saturatedly in Choso’s ears like his favorite song-

Well, it was his favorite song now. 

“Your hah- lil’ human womb s’gonna be so full- s-so cute.” Taking his time filling you back inch by inch. Choso’s button nose crinkles at the sight bouncy recoil against the spongy ends of your pussy. He can’t part from you - not even that. Doesn’t want to. Leaving kiss after kiss on your jiggling tits, sucking. “Need these f-filled. Need a son- m-my son. Gonna be the beeeest momma mhm- with the sweetest milk.”

A few sneaky set of his lips droop to your puffed-up nipples and bite almost mindlessly. Lacquering a heavy layer of spittle as Choso sucks like his favorite gummy candy.

And the way you arch your back into a perfectly slutty curvature to glissade your fatigued body against his sculpted front has Choso gaping. Has his eyes spying down at the bloated outline of himself inside you, nuzzling one mountainous palm. “A-and…ngh- daughter s’good too actually…maybe both. Maybe- maybe I just- jus’ really wan- need you.”

An uncharacteristically smug grin plasters all over his face at the way your mouth pouts, “B-boy or girl, Cho?”

Choso’s shivering. Aching with that red-hot depravation coiling at the bottom of his stomach to fill you up more and more and more- “Five boys- n’ one ngh- girl- all of ‘em with your pretty smile. You…you’re gonna g-give me that, right, ma’am?” 

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - 1000 Yr. DILF?!

“Cummin’ on my cock again? Makin’ such a damn mess.” And anyone would recognize that disapproving tut wafting sternly from between the King of Curses’ lips, anyone would fall completely to their knees. “This yer hah- first time bein’ bred or what, girl?”

Except for you.

You’re not sure you could even if you wanted to.

Because Ryomen Sukuna had you all over him like his absolute favorite doll - your boneless limbs hanging on for dear life in this rude standing nelson he’d manhandled you into. His favorite. 

One out of four of his massive palms splay out greedily onto the crown of your head, teasingly indenting the sharp corners of his black fingernails into your scalp. Dragging you to bear your droopy eyes into that cracked floor-length mirror at the very ends of his royal chamber. 

“Oh riiight-” He’s rolling his eyes, hips bucking up to overstuff you full of his bloated shafts. And through the ever-so-slightly cracked lids of your own, you can spy his sleazing grin. “-it is.”

“K-Kuna Kunaaa-” Your mouth just can’t stop squealing it out like your own personal mantra, limp legs dangling in midair with every sloppy slap! of his dual lengths. You’ve never felt so…blissfully helpless. “I-inside. I need you inside-”

“M’already inside, woman.” Fuck- you were so cute when you got all stupidly cockdrunk like this. But it’s not like Sukuna was going to admit that, instead covering up for the roughened hitch of his breath with a snicker. Second free hand gifting a punishing swat! onto your clit. One. Two. Three. “Only thing tha’s not inside ya yet is my heir. Yet. Seriously- that fuckin’ ngh- greedy for me t-ta fill ya up till yer overspillin’ or what?”

And you can only nod. Nod and nod and nod while buttery scoops of his glossy pre sprayed all over your g-spot, your cervix, everywhere and anywhere. 

Sukuna was leaving no crevice and sweet-spot unturned, the matchingly staggering sizes snugly barreling inside you until you were spellbound. And it really didn’t make him soothe his pace to be even just a bit more merciful the way those near-thirteen inches made your tummy swell. 

Bloated up with such mouth-watering abandon. Just like it would if you were…

“...pregnant.” Oh, that word is leaving Sukuna with more of a whine than he intended. Hips snagging upwards to peak the lightning bolts of his thumping veins salaciously down the side of your g-spot. “A c-cute lil’ cunt like this is how yer gonna end up ngh- pregnant.”

Listen, he’s not one to get all stupidly sentimental.

But your heavenly pussy was just plaguing him with rosy visions of you and a lil’ gremlin to call your own. With pink hair and that stupid, stupid smug grin that was stolen undeniably from his genes. Dammit. 

Who said you could make him feel all…mushy. He should have you charged with treason for this.

And, well, of course this was Ryomen Sukuna’s favorite position.

Of course, he’s taking that absolutely blasphemous advantage to let the second oversized tongue split apart his abs slosh outwards. 

Slithering muscle careening its snailing pathway down your teary pussylips, lapping up ounces upon ounces of syrupy slick. Before twirling around and around that plump button of your clit. And it was so…filthy, it made you squirm. 

“S-s’dirty…” You’re throwing your head back into the cushiony valley of his toned pecs in a frenzy, electric bolts of pleasure sprinting down your spine with every wet thwack! emanating from down below. Though, you weren’t complaining. You really, really weren’t complaining. “Kuna…”

And- fuck. You should’ve known.

Should’ve realized that letting your mouth smear dangerously open to echo out your whines would result in the devilish curse spitting a wet splatter right at the corner of your pouty lips.

And Ryomen Sukuna had perfect aim - he had the perfect ability to make this ordeal as neat as possible. 

But where was the fun in that?

You were just so adorable with your saliva-slicked lips wobbling open, jolting at the terrorizing scrape of his overgrown nails smearing away the pools of delirious dribble. Gently. 

“Dirty? Hah! Wha’s real hngh- dirty s’this pretty pussy in ovulation. Look.” He’s grunting out, and before you know it you’re being nudged even closer towards that ancient mirror. Fully drinking in the way that Sukuna was filling you up, the way that you were taking him. Chest heaving you up and down as he swallows in a deep inhale, “Can fuckin’ smell it on you- heh, my favorite time of the month. Has you beggin’ f’me to fuck you full with my seed? To give you an heir, huh?”

You were.

Throat scratching out the tiniest of pleas that you don’t even register slipping through your lips - but Sukuna could. He yearns for them. 

Feels them stir up the heated depths of his rounded breeder balls when they stick against your ass after every tireless pap! Your hands crane around to claw useless into those bulging deltoids of his-

“Oi, where’d ya think yer scratchin’? Trynna run?” Preposterous. As if you could ever run away from him - from the bruising smooches that Sukuna was leaving down every elastic inch inside your goopy depths. Sopping. Sodden French kisses. “Or…” Tongue gliding down his bared canines, other tongue leaving a sappy plap! of a touch onto your peaked clit. “...or is it that momma here is gonna heh- cum?”

“C-cum-” Fighting to strangle out - as if you needed to, in the first place. You didn’t, but you were just so endearing like this. “-gonna cum- ngh- gonna- gonna-”

“A-after that, ya better fuckin’ make me a daddy.” 

And if this was any other time then Sukuna would have mocked your pitchy whines. Lilted his growling baritone to taunt you as you fell apart. 

But he couldn’t - because he wasn’t doing any better. 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck, so fucking embarrassing how the clingy embrace of your sopping walls clamping around his bloated lengths was enough to make him cum. Him. The all-powerful King of Curses at your utter mercy. 

Those split, bawling divots of his splurging out seedy strings of pearly white, decorating your sloshing insides until it felt too heavy. Too tight. 

Voluminous masses of his cum settling deep at the goopy depths of your pussy - and Sukuna always had so much to give. A smirk plastering all over his face once the sensitive undersides of his cocks brush up against one another. 

Twitching to pry your gluey walls wide open enough to let a few thickly viscous dollops of seed frost your puffed-up pussy lips. Lips that his second mouth can’t help but kiss to clean up-

“Tch…such a damn mess.” You’re hearing ring inside our cottony brain from somewhere above, still short-circuiting blissfully. “But yer my mess, huh, Queen of Curses?”

♡ INO TAKUMA - “W-woah…”

Ino can’t stop himself - he can’t fucking shut up.

Pathetically drawling words tumbling out with every slight translucent sliver of fucking drool. With every pussydrunkenly content sigh that escapes him once he’s sinking back and forth past your tender entrance. “Atttta girl, th-this is the life…”

And, in fact, Ino can see his life with you when you’re on all fours and milking him so prettily like this. Especially when you’re like this.

He can see just how much prettier you’d look round and glowing and round- Filled to the brim with all of him until you pop out a cute lil’ boy with his eyes and your smile…or two boys…or three.

Ino can’t help but flex his wracking body forwards until you’re being absolutely crushed with the weight of all his slender muscles. Every plunging bump of his ruddy pink cockhead swirling into your most precious treasure trove of sweet spots. And the way your dewy eyes veer crossed with every one of his bludgeoning rams is so cute-

“P-pretty…” And he doesn’t mean it just as that cute lil’ nickname for you. Plumply puckered lips punching sweet little pecks down the pearlescent beads of perspiration at your forehead, “Wh-what do you think about taking ngh- us to the h-heh..next step.”

And, fuck- that should’ve been an inside thought.

That was supposed to have been something he kept to the confines of his sugarcoated brain. 

But when you’re flashing a simpering curl of your lips like that, then he can’t stop himself from letting his angry cock twitch. Bursting with spattering showers of his scorching pre that make an easy trailway for Ino’s bulging shaft to slip and slide easily deeper. “N-next step?”

“Mhm–” Fuck it. He spits onto the curvaceous pads of his fingertips, gliding to nuzzle your swollen clit. Tugging on the hood of that sensitive nub in a way that makes you see stars. “The next step.”

“Engagement?”

“Nuh uh-”

“Marriage?”

“No, silly girl.” Letting off a few sickly sweet swats at your buzzing clit, he’s snickering at the way that makes your spine arch. Lips sleazing up a few kisses right down the middle, “M’talkin’ kids. M’sayin’ I wanna breed ya- knock ya up f-fuck I need to-”

And you’re so addicted to just how needy he is. 

A bout of light-headed giggles making its way from between your slackened lips, that sound enough to make him huff out a pout and shovel a few solid inches even meaner. You’re mumbling out, “Th-that pussydrunk, Taku—?”

“Sh-shut up.” He’s grumbling, dousing his dextrous digits with a few candied slathers - for only a split-second before stuffing them into the slobbering orifice of your mouth. Making you taste yourself. Taste him. “Shut up when I’ve- ngh! g-got my cock kissin’ yer pretty cervix, sweetness.”

And it was true. 

As if to make sure you don’t underestimate how serious he is - how ready he was right now - Ino’s trekking up one of his feet to plant right on the top of your head. 

Pressurizing with that strengthened weight to shovel your face deeper and deeper into the pillowcase. Completely soaked with waterfalling layers of your saliva, only growing more drenched with every battered ram of his pulpy peach crownhead into that g-spot.

“Ngh- Taku-” Your fingers grapple hastily towards the creakily singing mahogany headboard, clenching. Moaning wantonly, “Taku- baby– fuck! Jus’ like that.” 

“I know I know.” And he honestly doesn’t know how he finds it in himself to fucking roll his half-lidded eyes, all pretty white teeth bared in such a snarl. “Wanna milk me, huh? Take me fuckin’ cock n’ f-fuuuck gimme a ngh- son or two…” Mumbling, “...or three.”

Three. 

Three. 

Fuck.

It’s just about all you can do to weakly buck your hips in an attempt - an attempt - to meet his sloppy cadence. Nudging your hips up in sultry little gyrations that Ino is sure hypnotizes him.

And you can’t even blame him because you’re much the same-

“Wan’ it-” you’re muffling out into the silken fabrics, that awestruck expression on Ino’s face so cute that you’re gifting him with a long few sucks on his greedy tongue. Tasting him like your very favorite lolly, “O-one or two- ah! Want you to f-fill me up-” And he’s so tender interlacing his fingers with your own, letting you guide them up to your still-empty tummy and press. “-right here.”

You didn’t have to tell Ino Takuma twice. 

“Shit- shit.” He’s gruffing out, mere moments before you feel his sharpened canines dig into the delicate crook of your neck. Hard enough to break skin-

Nothing more until he’s letting his sobbing divot burst out in stealthy ribbons upon ribbons of cum - already. Drawing out his initials into your rubbery cervix as much as he can over and over. 

Ragged moans tearing into whines at just how blissful it felt, how embarrassing it was that he’s reaching his high just from a few of your words. 

“M’sorry I-I-” Ino nuzzles the neat circle of his teethmarks, smearing the roughened pads of his tastebuds along those oversensitive indentations. That slight tinge of pleasurable pain making your gripping walls squeeze, and Ino hisses. “-actually- fuck! M’not sorry ngh- not sorry ta breed this ngh tiiiight cunt.”

You’re humming once one set of fingers loop your neck to drag you into every shuddering grind. Pumping your tight channel fuller and fuller with creamy swashes of cum, “G-gettin’ really cocky, aren’tcha, baby?”

“Only for you.” He tuts, “Gotta h-hope our ah- two sons don’t get my personality, huh?”

“Three, remember?”

Oh.

Oh? 

“Can you…” Ino’s whispering, throat ragged and raw. Gazing droopily gluing together with tears and utter heart-eyes when he’s babbling onwards, “...can you marry me, pretty?”

♡ GOJO SATORU - SIX EYES

“Sweetheart…sweetheart-” Gojo’s voice comes out in more of a rasping growl than anything else, and it’s just as fitting that he’s latching his pearly whites onto your throat to help drag you down, down, down. “Dammit…you’ve gotta s-stop movin’ around so much n’ just ngh- Take it take it take it take- it-” 

Take it you were - for the past few hours now, in fact.

And the electricity was already out in every ward of Tokyo, your bed was already splintered and useless. 

But Gojo’s heavy cock was still sputtering out rummaging swab after swab into you right then and there on your bedroom floor. Leaving creamy remnants of cum glissading down your insides everywhere. Anywhere.

Fuck - he came again.

Gojo can barely blink his eyes open to admire the traces of gooey white that made their home inside your sweltering hot pussy. Good, he’s stuffing back that soppy puddles forming at the ends of your puckered crease, very good.

“W-was told m’Christmas gift would be ngh- you all round n’ pregnant-” he’s whining in a sickly syrupy tone against your ear. And you’re catching the way that Gojo’s gummy pink lips curl into a pout, “So we’ve gotta start early.”

Shit- you didn’t know what to expect telling Gojo that you were…ready. 

But it certainly wasn’t for the famed strongest to lose his goddamn mind, for him to lock one beefy bicep around the small of your middle and drag you like some glorified ragdoll to meet his determined mating press. 

“T-talk t’me pretty momma–” He’s plastering his body all over yours, greedily sucking up every ounce of space you own. It was his space now. Just like this was his pretty pussy that he was breeding.

“Satoru—” Your fatigued fingers cradle the side of his handsome face, motioning to scrape across Gojo’s cloudy tufts of white in a way that makes him purr. That makes his overworked cockhead douse your heated cunt with copiously thick dredges of pre. Perhaps even tiny wisping ribbons of cum. Just from that. “H-how are you still…”

Honestly, you didn’t even have to ask.

Because even through your bleary heart-eyes, you’re catching the way that his narrowed eyes bolt with miniscule flickers of bright blue lightning. Zapping with cursed energy as they droop drunkenly half-lidded, “H-heh…perks of bein’ ngh- fucked by the honored one, girlie.”

But the one ruined here was him.

Every warm lacquer of his own treacly seed swirling and sloshing against his shaft with every jittery rut. The weepy swipe of his peach-pink tip has Gojo’s fuzzy mind blanking. Feverish ounces of blood making his bludgeoning cock swell fatter and fatter-

“Sh-shit…” Gojo’s maw spills open, watery eyes of sapphire sprinting all the way to the very back of his lid. Only to be greeted with visions of stars and you, you you - all round and…pregnant. Fuck, he needed this bad. “Dammit dammit- dammit! Think m’gonna cum–”

You’re nodding, “Cum f’me, Toru– D-don’t miss.”

As if he would ever miss.

“Damn- how filthy.” He’s grinning, “Could cum from j-just that, y’know?”

But if you noticed the urging tease in his words then you don’t snap back - you can’t. Making the towering man himself let out a low whistle, “Oh? No mockin’? Shiiit- that fucked dumb, huh?”

And you really shouldn’t be surprised when the stilted atoms in the air seem to freeze around you two. Everything tight and stuffy with the use of cursed energy as Gojo’s activating his six eyes, glowing eyes eagerly feeding down upon- oh.

You can’t help but let out little whimpers at the bzzzzz–! of jujutsu when he’s skimming a few six-inch fingers down your tummy. Down, down, down like he could see through-

“Hmmm, right on time-” Gojo’s chuckling - and there’s something else that’s utterly dark tinting his sing-song voice. Something…dangerous. This really was the strongest. “-yer ovulatin’ right now heh- this one’s gonna be th-the ngh! one.”

“Wh-what?”

“My daughter and my son- duh, my silly girl.”

Fuck, what?

Only being able to gape at the lustrous sheen of drool flooding from between his grinning lips. Snowy brows raising the longer Gojo’s gaze locked right where your womb was. He was so fucking eager. 

Barely even realizing what he’s doing - whether he’s even using his powers - when resting your boneless legs on top of two strong forearms. You could feel the flex of his muscles underneath your flesh as Gojo unabashedly and unapologetically cracks your legs even further open.

His own personal buffet. 

Vicious thrusts ruining the syrupy harmony inside, “Not gonna miss- never g-gonna miss f’it’s ta ngh- make my cute lil’ twins, m’kay, my girl?” Patting at your inflationary cylindrical outline, “Gotta s-safe space riiiight here s-so just-”And you keen when a fat fingerpad lathered in vibrating jujutsu thumbs over your clit. “-cum.”

And you were more than happy to.

To let that tautly pulled string of yours burst to fall right over the edge. You’re cumming with Gojo’s mouth on yours and his swollen tip French kissing your bruised and battered g-spot. Marking out permanent indentations of his girthy circumference. 

“Thereeee we go-” He’s giggling - giggling. Limitless long since flickered off to let your nails drag their red, red patterns down his Herculean back muscles. “Mhm- Toru’s here. Tha’s right, h-hngh! hold on wh-when ah, fuck- Toru here fills ya up…”

And it was much more than just filling you up. 

Because it’s like Gojo was trying to flood your poor insides, his cock hitting in a sappy thwack! against the rubbery end of your cervix to glaze out thick wiry bursts of cum. Again. And again. And again and again and again- because he couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to.

“Take it- oh, take it.” He’s breathing out, heaving right into your open mouth. Perhaps if you were in any better state of mind you’d have noticed the way the furniture jitters, moves. Reeling into the magnetic field that was Gojo Satoru and his six eyes bumping into overdrive. “Can see it- hehhhh– My good fuckin’ girl milkin’ every inch of me. Just look at h-how you have the ngh- strongest. On his fucking knees…”

But Gojo didn’t mind - not one bit as his creamy dabs slipped and slided to stain your pussylips a glossy white. Pretty pinkish balls squeezing out a weighty few wads of sap before he’s whimpering. Yes, whimpering, “Ngh- I c-can tell the ah- first s’gonna be a girl…my cute daughter- gonna be as ah- pretty as her momma. And my son- heh, total momma’s boy.”

Just babbling right now - begging and begging for you to take even more with his hips fucking you powerfully full. 

“Sweetheart…” Gojo’s eventually piping up over those ringing squelches, oversensitive eyes fluttered firmly shut. 

“Hm?”

“Yer gonna be such a fuckin’ MILF.”

♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - Pony.

“Ride it, angel-” Higuruma knows he should let his poor girl take it easy, he knows he should wipe that filthily sleazy grin off of his face when your hips stutter even harder down all of his mean inches. “-I said ride it- ride me. P-put those hips to work now like a good girl f’me.”

And you were.

You couldn’t stop - not when your babyfever was at an all time high. 

Barely even letting your poor husband walk two steps past the front door from work, barely even letting him take off his sexy office suit before burying his swollen cockhead deep past your sappy folds. Needing him. 

You were leaving needy smooch after smooch of your glossy folds on the neatly trimmed happy trail down his washboard abs for what seemed like hours now. 

But it still wasn’t enough. Still. Your mouth aching for the same kiss-

You’re wrapping your fingers around the silken fabric of his tie to haul him even closer. “Wan’ a k-kiss, Hiromi–” His pretty first name dripping from your tongue like a prayer, and the way that only makes him gulp has your velvety orifice spraying out a sodden rivulet of treacly slick. 

“A kiss?” Higuruma’s batting his dark lashes teasingly, the corners of his mouth turning upwards into a simpering smile that only you had the privilege of ever seeing. Your glissading body gets easily pulled into his with a hefty arm wrapping around your waist, head tilting upwards. Close. “Really think ya deserve a hah- kiss, my slutty girl?”

“Y-yes–” Your hips are swerving in languid gyrations to swallow everything that Higuruma has to offer. To let your depraved walls cling onto the heated girth of him tight enough that it’s almost as if you were trying to permanently imprint every one of his bloated ridges, every vein, every thwack! against your plush walls. “W-won’t you give the ah- mother of your kids a k-kiss, Hiro?”

Oh.

Oh…

Higuruma’s dewy eyes are snapping open, jaw loosening with raw shock and something…carnal. You really were made for him - you clever, clever woman.

“So…” He’s quirking up a stern dark brow, and suddenly you’re reminded why so many find your attractive husband so intimidating. “A kiss, huh?”

Clasping one of your wrists to place a long peck against the back of your hand - it’s so gentlemanly. So tender. “How about this for a hah- kiss? Or…” The complete opposite of the way that Higuruma’s hips were bucking uncontrollably up, up, up - breaking through your steady tempo to plant a thorough clash of his mushroomed tip against your cervix. Sneaking in a loooong drag right down the middle to make sure that you’ll feel him puckering up there for days. Weeks. “-how about this?”

Fuck.

He was so mean.

Cackling out at your huffing and puffing, “S-so rude- Ngh- I take it back, don’t want ya to b-breed-”

“Awww, don’ say that my pretty lil’ wife-” The mahogany bedframe sings out protesting creaks when he plants his feet onto the cushiony mattress, driving his scouring crownhead into you lazily. Mazing through those gluey walls of yours to wrench out tiny squeals as he easily takes over. “Don’tcha know how hck! badly I wan’ my own lil’ family. A lil’ daughter.” One hand tugging on the tie that was still dangling haphazardly from his neck, “You jus’ hafta- hah- sit there all p-pretty and take it. Let me fuck ya full, tha’s all…”

That’s all but it felt like anything but. 

Because Higuruma was no stranger to letting his speed pick up as dirtily as he wished, pounding into the tight crevices of your gummy hole until you felt like you were molding to his exact circumference. 

“H-hate how you always know what to- ah!” He doesn’t even let you finish your half-heated sentence, letting your hands rest precariously on the broad deltoids of his shoulders. Because you felt so weak.

“Mhmm— love you, too, angel.”

He knew exactly how to ruin you.

Tweaking a few fingers over to rub that silvery sheen of your sweet, sweet juices taking over the sensitive nub of your clit. Flicking at where you were the most tender with one index, he mutters, “Heh- cute.” Before tap! tap! tapping your gorgeous tummy - oh, how he loved every part of you. Every part of here that he’d make sure grows full…glowing with his kid. “S’bout time I ngh- filled ya riiiight here. Must be feelin’ awful empty, huh?”

Glazed eyes of yours latching onto his, “Yes- fuck- f-feels so lonely without ya.” Shit, those babbles were affecting Higuruma more than he’d like to admit. More than he wanted but- really, he couldn’t complain. He was addicted. “Want you to c-cum in me. Okay, Hiromi?”

Higuruma can only titter, “Yes, ma’am.”

And when he does - when he finally, finally does with a few vicious strokes plummeting against your most mushy spots - it’s so much that whatever shredded rationality left in you seriously wonders about your little request.

“G-gonna gimme a ngh- daughter, right?” Feeling the hot trickle of Higuruma’s cum showering your inner thighs, buttery globs of pearlescent white drooling from your pussy lips. “Lemme p-play hah- barbies with her. Lemme teach her to have one h-hell of a smart mouth like her parents.” Talking up to him in saturated squelches with every drilling plap! up into your overspilling pussy. “Teach her ta be as sweet as her momma.”

He was daydreaming. Eyes slipping dangerously closed with each stubborn dab of seed pushed into your womb. 

And you’re running your fingers through his now-disheveled slick-back, “S-sounds amazing, baby–”

“Yeah?  This ‘nough?” He’s groaning against your jaw, your throat. Needy and clingy - just the way that he can’t help getting at the honeyed slosh of his seed inside you. “Take it- take it, okay? Shiiit ya got even tighter- S’allll yours ta milk and…and…” 

“And- ah! what, baby?”

Peck after peck until, finally, against your lips, you hear- “And, if ya take it all like a good girl n’ I’ll let ya hngh! ride my nose next, angel.”

A/N. Hope y’all have a lovely week!!

Plagiarism not authorized.

[madamechrissy]

Put it On Me

nsfw- Your boss Nanami counts how many times he can make you cum on break

Your cunt is dripping down your boss Nanami’s Armani gold watch, he's watching it as it soaks his two fingers, pumping in and out of your soppy little hole now. Nanami has ten more minutes of this break, he's counting how many times he can make his pretty assistant cum.

"One.' He murmurs as you're pulsing around his fingers, thighs spread on his desk, trembling. He brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking your sweetness off them and moaning. Cheeks hollowing. "So exquisite. Bend over my desk, darling."

You eagerly obey, ass in the air, feeling his silk cheetah tie wrap your wrists, his strong muscles flexing behind you. "Nana-mi!" Your back arches when you feel it, his hot tongue lapping up your slit, his huge hands gripping the fat of your ass, your skirt is bunched around your hips as you press into his oak desk.

Your boss Nanami fucks you so good with his tongue you cum all down his chiseled face, earning his satisfied moan as he stands now, pulling on your hair, wrapping it around his fist, gently cupping your face with his other hand. "Two."

Now your boss Nanami Kento is rubbing the fat tip of his cock between your puffy lips, you gasp at it, his breath against your ear as he bullies his cock in your little hole, you're trembling at the stretch. "K-kento... you're s'big I..."

He presses you up high on the desk, cutting off your words, your legs dangling as he bends down he's so huge, his body, his cock, his hands, you feel so small and pathetic, as you're drooling on his desk, his thick cock pumping in and out, heavy balls smacking your clit, you're screaming now, earning a smack on your ass.

"You've got to be quiet, darling.... oh, f-fuck... three." He peeks at his watch with a shaky hand, hazel eyes rolling back when you flutter around him. "You're such a mess, aren't you?" You barely manage a nod, Nanami’s cock slides in easier and easier as you're dripping g down his office floor, he's pulling that cheetah tie, using it as leverage, gasping when you tighten around him.

Your boss Nanami wants to at least get one more orgasm from you, so he presses your head into the desk, watching you drool out of your stupidly open mouth. Your fucked out eyes are so pretty, he lets you know as he bends over you completely, murmuring "four"

Nanami watches your eyes roll back as his tip abuses your cervix. Your orgasm is blinding, your head falling back, he's shoving his cock so deep, stuffing you so full, you can't take it. You're shattering as you cum so hard it hurts, feeling him in your tummy he's so deep. "Cum in me, please." You whisper, he cups your face now, exhaling at how pretty you are, the tears falling down your cheeks glittering under the office lights.

"Want me to fill you up, pretty?" He's pressing on your tummy over your blouse, you nod eagerly, and he's busting his load so deep in you. You're dripping his white sticky cum, trembling in his hold, pussy pulsing as just his cum gets you again. "F-five."

"Wh-what's the numbers?" You ask, dazed and cock drunk, he unties you, the silk leaving your wrists, that watch going off. He smirks, lips turning up at the corner,then turns you and fixes your skirt, kissing your lips.

"How much I could make you cum during my break." your boss Nanami slides your panties up now, his sandy blond hair falling over his forehead as he kisses up your thigh. "Back to work, darling."

Nanami loves his breaks 🥵 Kinda dom Nanami, I don't see it too much aha but that's my head canon for him <3

[citrus-writing]

surrender to me

Thinking about how utterly humiliating it'd be to be forced to ride your yandere-

Tw: non-con, dub-con, extreme feelings of guilt and shame, reader is an active participant in their own assault 

--------------------------------------- 

It's bad enough when he pins you down to whatever surface is nearby, taking whatever he wants from you, forcing you to take whatever he gives you. It's bad enough that you're helpless to his advances, that he can so easily overpower you, use you like his own personal toy. It's bad enough that he fucks you so good, hitting that spot that has you nearly screaming, keeping up the relentless pace until your legs shake, and making sure you always cum at least once, though he always always tries for more.

It's worse when he pulls you on top of him. At least when you're underneath him you can say it's not your fault, that you have no hand in what happens to you.

But now, as you straddle his waist, his cock buried deep inside you, he tells you to "ride me, come on, just the way you like it" you feel shame wash over you. He's your kidnapper, he took everything from you, and now he wants you to be an active participant in your torment. Everything in your rebels against the idea, tells you to fight it, to hold onto your pride at any and all costs. But it's not like you have a choice, you know what disobeying him means- you've faced too many punishments to risk another.

Shame eats at you as you begin to move, hesitant and humiliated, but unwilling to disobey. You rock your hips, trying not to shutter with every drag of his length along your walls. You're so wet for him and you know he can tell. You close your eyes, you don't want to see the way he's looking at you, can't bare to see the adoration in his eyes when you fuck yourself on his cock and he can't help but whisper that you're "such a good girl for me".

You hate that it feels good, that even your leisurely pace is making you bite back moans and fight the urge to ride him harder, to make yourself cum, and to feel him cum too. He grabs your hips, guiding you to pick up the pace a little, and you curse that he knows exactly what you like. He knows just how to guide your movements to make you tremble and whimper as he fucks you, he knows exactly what will have you moaning and gushing around him. He knows exactly how to make you his perfect little whore.

It's too much- the absolute misery of the situation is more than you can bear. You're riding your kidnapper, moaning and crying out for him, feeling your orgasm creep up on you too fast. It’s humiliating in a way that nothing else can compare to, nothing he’s ever done to you has been quite so potently horrid. 

You can't tell if he's still forcing your hips into the rhythm or if you've given into it, can't really tell if he's thrusting up into you or if your just bouncing on his cock that hard- but you're so close, and he feels so good inside you, and you want to cum so bad. You should be fighting this, but you’re not. You’re rocking your hips against his and whining his name and begging for more. 

"Gonna cum?" He asks, voice a little bit teasing but mostly breathless at the way you move above him and the way you feel around him. He tells you all the time that he loves you, that you belong to him, that he’d do anything to keep you all to himself. In moments like this, it’s easy to believe that. You nod, desperate for release. "Go on, then,” he encourages, moving his hips against yours to meet you halfway as you move. 

You do- with a desperate cry of his name you feel your orgasm wash over you, crashing down on you and you can think of nothing else but his length filling you up, hitting so deep inside you and stretching you out so wide. It's so dirty; knowing you threw away all your morality and pride for this- you let yourself be used by man you should hate just so you could get off, you practically begged him for it. 

Because no matter how your mind tries to convince itself this isn't what you want, your body knows this is exactly what you want. 

---------------------------

[hoshigray]

𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭 𝐌𝐞, 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 | gojō satoru

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: bully! Gojo x afab/fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! you + Gojo are college juniors - first kiss - fingering (f! receiving) - sqüiřtıng - virginity loss - corruption kink - missionary + deep impact positions - clitoral play - unprotected sex (psa: wrap the willy, you sillies!) - premature ejaculation - pet names (baby, crybaby, cutie, princess) - itty bitty possessiveness - mention of spit/drool and tears.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.6k

“Yo.”

“Yes, Satoru?”

“You never had your first kiss, huh?”

Gojo Satoru takes pleasure in being your bully — nothing in his third year of college gives him much joy than being your one source of torment. Sure, he’s got everything: being the campus’ grounds #1 heartthrob, a star player on the men’s basketball team, and an excellent scholar in all his courses despite being a dickhead. But, even if he possesses the things that put him at the top of the class body, his other fountain of entertainment comes from something - or someone - that playing ball or dormitory parties can’t produce the same level of internal enjoyment. 

You and he were alone in his apartment, umbrellaed under the instruction of working on an upcoming project this month. Of course, boredom is evident in the tall one’s heavy sighs as he looks through multiple articles on his laptop. Cerulean orbs wander away from the device’s screen and land on the other side of the couch; another figure glued to the armrest is concentrated on typing their keyboard to notice the prying survey. 

Gojo’s ennui begins to flicker out the moment he sees you, wanting nothing to do with this damn assignment and just to mess with his favorite pushover. This is precisely why he prompts himself to ask you a question, and judging by how quickly your fingers stop typing, now his attention is hooked onto a matter way more fascinating.

He spots your flattened lips. “…Wh–Where did that come from?”

“Just curious, a random thought that came to my head.” 

“Why was that the thought that—“

“Hey, aren’t ya gonna answer the question?”

You stammer. “What makes you think I never had my first kiss?!”

He lifts a brow; his round shades shine when he smirks. “So you did have a first kiss?” Your lips open with no voice, and both silver eyebrows rise from the silent answer you’re giving, only for you to close your mouth and avert your gaze elsewhere. Gotcha, he stifles a chuckle. “Thought so, you terrible liar. Embarrassed I called you out? Haha, hilarious.”

Your eyes may be on the words of your document on your laptop, but the heat on your cheeks and the uncomfortable knot in your gut kept brewing. You chew on your lips to focus on something other than the guy getting a kick out of your lack of experience — the guy you don’t hear close and place his computer on the coffee table.

“Hey,” the closeness of his voice takes you aback, and you’re surprised to see him sit closer enough to bring a hand to close your laptop. “Wanna kiss me?”

Mortified eyelids shoot wide. “Wanna—Wh-What!?!” What the fuck is going on?!? “Why would you ask me—“

A nonchalant shrug adds more weight to your shock. “Why not? It’s just you and me, alone in my apartment at 8 o’clock. Sounds like a perfect opportunity, doncha think?” 

“Yeah, to do work!” Your emphasis fails as Gojo takes your device to add to the table surface. “I-I didn’t come here for you to question me and ask to—“

“You got someone else you’re waiting for?” He uses a hand to cage you from escaping, a knee between your legs. He knows he has the upper hand, observing behind shielded sunglasses as he awaits your response. 

“I–W-Well,” God, what did I get myself into? “Not necessarily…”

“So, do you not trust me with your first kiss?”

“That’s…That’s not the point—“

“You’re deflecting!”

“Satoru,” the way you say his name — low and soft, a pleading whisper — makes something switch for Gojo, looking at your bashful expression with hesitant hands, barely pushing his chest. “We shouldn’t…Let’s get back to the assignment?”

That wasn’t working on him; he’d never want to stop teasing you, especially now when you look too cute. “Let me kiss you one time, ‘kay? Then, we’ll go straight back to work.” He can see the cogs work in your brain, deciphering whether he is genuine. Was he? He couldn’t tell; all he was thinking about was how your lips felt. “I promise, princess.”

You didn’t mean it to happen, but you scan from his shades to his lips; now, it’s all you can see. The bob of his Adam’s apple, when he gulps, has your breath hitch, and after a few silent seconds with no movement, he begins to descend his face lower, and your lids swiftly close. So does his as he gently places his pillowy lips onto your plump ones, and a hushed squeak doesn’t go neglected.

Cherry — that’s the flavor that Gojo can taste. It has to be from the lip gloss you plastered on your lips that made them inviting to gawk at, pretty lips that the tall other couldn’t stop peering occasionally. He licks the bottom, taking in more of the taste with a soft groan. You yelp, gaping your lips further to give the man above an idea, and chew on your bottom lip. More whimpers slide past your control, hands gripping his sweatshirt as he peppers you with soft kisses, latching onto yours for longer seconds from one after the other — so much for one kiss.

You’re the one to break it off, hesitantly backing away from him to breathe. Hot skin returns to the cold air, and intimate huffs fuel into the space. You open your eyes slowly, half-lidded with knitted brows and scorching ears. You examine Gojo’s neutral expression; orbs that were once filled with reluctance are now replaced with a...wonder.

An innocent wonder that nearly has Gojo shut down from seeing as your hands steadily ring around his neck. There it is again, another switch flipped. This time, a spark ignites his brain, curiosity coursed to a more indecent field after what it feels like taking your first kiss. Because the way you’re looking under him — entirely submitted to him and his touch — wasn’t something he expected to rock his core. And all he can think about now…

…Is what taking all of your firsts would be like.

“—Taaahhh, haah…! Satoru, w-wait a min—“

“Hey, baby, tell me, what’s it like having my fingers inside you?”

Gojo’s little experiment delved into different extremes; your first kiss was the starting point of the many thoughts that perturbed his thinking. He wanted to know more about your potential firsts. For example, such as right now, how you’d be if he were the first to touch your privates. 

The atmosphere around the living room became hotter; the tepid silence switched with the erotic sounds and squeals that exited your system. Your legs spread apart, Gojo in between your thighs as his big, calloused hand swims under your panties to shove away and meet the bareness of your cunt. You were so wet, your liquids effortlessly coating his fingertips with barely any push. An entire mess between your inner thighs and labia. And that made Gojo’s mind go wild.

“Holy shit,” he chuckles in a heavy sigh. “So fucking wet and tight…Heh, you’re all like this because of a kiss, huh? So adorably pathetic.”

Refutation is impossible as he curls his forefinger inside, scraping your upper wall in a manner you never envisaged. “Sator—Mmmph…!” He keeps pushing the digit to the knuckle, touching crevices of your inner channel you could never reach. “O-Ohhh, Jesus…”

“Mmmm, fuck, you're twitching like crazy,” and Gojo was loving every second of it. The taller junior then decides to test something and creeps his middle finger near your opening, smearing itself with your come as lube. 

You sense him push the finger in, nerves heightened. “W-Wait, Satoru, I can’t—“

“Oh, yes, you can.” He interrupts you with a cheeky sneer. “You’re practically asking for it with you twitching so much. Watch.” Gojo pushes the middle digit leisurely; your beseeching babbles become increasingly incoherent when he adds the whole thing with the other finger. Now, both of them have you shrilling from their intrepid fashion, grazing on your vaginal walls with every pull and shove until his knuckles smooch your labia.

Good God, the place is so hot, your face is hot, your body’s hot, your insides feel hot — everything is just too hot for you to handle! And your brain cannot hold itself together as the seconds go. You throw your head back, your eyes sewn shut, “OhGod, ahhck! Wait, stooop! Go slow, go slo—Ohhh!” Gojo does the exact opposite; the pace of his fingers surges to a tempo you find difficult to ride through. Your entire frame locks together, preparing for the inevitable to slip past your hold, and tremors course around you as your orgasm hits you like a train.

Simultaneously as Gojo continues to rut your soapy cunt, a clear liquid disperses out of your urethra and sprays outward. Sprinkling onto the skin of your thighs and drenching your underwear. Although you’re not the only one who gets caught, Gojo at the front gets a genuine display of you showering his forearm with your essence, damping his sweatshirt in the process, and even a bit on his sunglasses.

It happens the third time: something snaps inside Gojo once he sees your oddly beautiful teary face. It’s at that moment that something in his core breaks and permeates his entire body with a force that’s been itching to get out when he kissed you earlier. He swallows thickly because the next thing he does after this will eat him alive, a queerly anticipated feeling for the white-haired man.

Of course, Gojo is astonished at what transpired, the shock in his eyes concealed by the shades. “Did you…just squirt on me?” His ears pick up the sound of you sobbing, your hands covering your face as you whine.

Massive tears roll down your cheeks, “I—hic—I told you to wait…!” 

It’s a no-brainer that Gojo pulls you off the couch and leads you to throw on top of his bed, stripping himself off his pants and briefs to free his raging erection and crawling up on top of you after chucking his shades off. A gasp leaves puffy lips when his pink glans meet the folds of your vagina, burrowing between your labia to coat with your slick.

“Satoru, wait,” you voice. “D-Don’t you have a condom?”

“Sorry, ran out of them.” Lies. Gojo knows he has rubbers tucked in his nightstand. However, the intention to use them is nowhere to be found. Because tonight – knowing completely and damn well you’re still a virgin – he had to fuck you raw. The drive to do so sent shivers up his spine. “Don’t worry, cutie. I’ll promise to pull out.”

Yet again, another deception.

Gojo pushes the tip in as he counts your breaths, watching every wince and contortion of your expression as the cockhead ventures and seeks shelter inside your slit. Your body is squirming through every exhale, and Gojo’s coaxes to relax your rigidness are somewhat helpful as you intake air. Before you know it, your mouth goes to a permanent ‘o’ shape once the tip is inserted, the act of breathing stops, and your body recoils and tenses as he slowly forces the foreign limb to carve your tightness inch by inch.

Oh, fucking shit…!! Oh yeah, Gojo thanks himself for not putting on a rubber. The firm grasp of your walls around his length nearly has him lose balance, sinking into your warm wetness clenching onto him so deliciously. He bites his lip to composure, a futile attempt as he throws in a few slow thrusts, and the snug of you has him in a chokehold. Then, when he hits your cervix, you instinctively grip onto him tighter and wrap your legs around him, and Gojo almost chokes. 

“F-Fuuck, wait, wait..!” He curses, submitting to a release way too early; his hips tremble as his cock ejaculates into your vagina. Shocks rattle his brain, rolling his eyes to the ceiling at the sensation of pooling himself into you. “Shit, oh shiiiit…this fucking pussy is driving me crazy.”

It really does because Gojo, still keen from his climax, dials the cadence, rutting into you with purpose. The sudden movements have your shrieks bouncing across the bedroom walls, and hits to your womb are frequent and cause more tears to strike down without your comprehension. “Nnnmm! OhhhmyGod…! Mmoohh!!”

“Heh, look at you cryin’,” Gojo teases you from above, licking a tear before kissing your cheek and ear. “Guess that’s expected for your first time, huh…Hnnnm, God, you’re clenching my dick so much.”

“Th-That’s because you’re—“The curve of his shaft has the tip graze your walls in an angle that makes your back arch. “Ahhoooo!! I’m fuull; you’re making me fulll…!!”

“Awww, am I making you full, crybaby?” He mocks you in your ear, the snicker sounding too salacious to the drum. “You full with my dick that it got you whining and crying for me?”

I can’t do this! Your brain dissolves into mush, and your face is too hot to construct adequate consciousness. “I can feel it, I can feel…”

“What is it? I can’t hear you through all the sobbing,” Gojo unscrews your legs to maneuver one for him to straddle and the other to lie on his shoulder. The new position gave him a directed way to piston his pelvis into your aching cunt, your squeals turning into screams as pokes to your womb come with the feverish pacing. He’s hitting so deep you can’t catch up! “What, you think you’re about to cum?”

You nod hurriedly. “Yes, yesss!!”

“Oh, that’s what you want now?” The snow-headed man chortles before sneaking a hand to your vulva, where his fore and middle finger swipe on your clit. “Tell me, is that what my pathetic angel wants?” You nod again, so he pinches your bud. “Tell me properly~.”

“—Ahhnnn, ohh, Sa—‘Toruuu!!” You pan to him. “Pleaseee, please make me cum, I wanna cum…!!”

God, this was a picture worth savoring. The image of you being all desperate for release, wanting nothing but to succumb to your wanton desire. You looked so ruined, like a completely different person compared to the meek exterior Gojo used to. And it’s all because of him – his words, his touches, his lips, and his dick – that you’re like this. A fact that only propels him to hammer his hips into you harsher. 

“Good girl,” he bends down to close his face to yours. Surveying you make such erotic faces as he keeps playing with your clit is food for his soul. “Enjoy yourself, princess,” and he steals your lips once more for another kiss.

Your orgasm comes to you quicker than ever, thanks to the work of Gojo’s hips, the hits of your cervix, the pinches on your clitoris, and the sloppy makeout session. Your body freezes and lets the aftershocks jolt you to a rocky clarity, your head in a dense fog, and your vision just about blurry. Your legs quiver with heaving breaths, and Gojo keeps thrusting as you soon fall out of your euphoria. 

The cold air blankets both of you once tense muscles calm down and bring you two back to reality. Silence befriends the lack of words aside from the pants of breath, and Gojo sluggishly withdraws his cock out of your wet chasm, whistling at the sight of his load slowly protruding out of your essence.

“Hey,” your face forms into a helpless expression. “Bet you never tried anal before.”

Tonight was dedicated to conquering all of your firsts. And Gojo means that with every bone in his body!

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ⊹ transparent edit made by me + dividers from @animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[gutsby]

Waiting Game

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel Miller has mastered the art of self-control in all areas except one: not fucking his friend’s daughter. A cross-country road trip home from college takes a hard turn when he’s forced to share a motel room with you.

Warnings: 18+. Protected p-in-v. Praise. Overstimulation. Sweet, possessive, slightly obsessive and pussywhipped Joel. Daddy kink. Drug use. Angst. Accidental creampie. Joel fucking you while on the phone with your father.

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

“You okay, hon? You sound…distracted,” your dad presses. A hint of concern rises from his end of the line.

At length, Joel grips both of your legs and brings them up over his shoulders, and he grins before kissing your ankle and shoving his cock even deeper.

“Yes!” you yelp as you crush the phone to your ear, hoping your father can’t hear any of the filthy sounds down below, “Just a little stretched—I mean stressed out, is all.”

Aside from the fact that he smoked like a chimney and bumped far more Billy Joel than any man ever should, Mr. Miller was an A-OK friend—your father’s best friend.

All you needed was a ride home for the holidays.

From the second you’d set foot in his old Ford Bronco, you sensed this trek wouldn’t be an enjoyable one—thirty-hour road trips rarely ever were—but you leaned back in the passenger seat, propped your feet on the dashboard, and bopped along to ‘You May Be Right’ for the fifty-fifth fucking time that morning and smiled.

Joel frowned.

“Dogs off the dash,” he muttered, swatting at your bare, polished toes before you kicked his touch away.

“Shotgun puts her feet up, driver shuts his cakehole.”

That wasn’t even how the saying went. Oh well.

Joel slowed the car to sixty in the right-hand lane and smacked your ankles even harder. You yelped.

“Hey! You can’t hit a woman!”

“I’m not hitting a woman, I’m hitting a little gremlin,” Joel tried not to grin as he delivered another tart slap to your foot, and you almost jerked into the passenger door.

He momentarily righted the car before it went veering into the lane beside it, seized one of your feet, and tried to forcibly shove it off the dashboard, to no avail. As soon as he moved one limb, the other would glide right back up to take its place; Joel’s hands were big, but they weren’t massive enough to grab hold of both of your legs at once and make you stay the fuck there, Christ’s sake.

You liked to see him flustered. Brought a whole new hue to his tough, stubbled cheeks that folks rarely got to see. You squirmed in your seat when he reached for your side.

“Wh—NO! No tickling!” you cried, trying your hardest to roll away.

But the man was nothing if not a lover of cheap shots and filthy antics. He’d never played a clean game in his life and wasn’t about to start now.

His gaze darted from the road to your writhing form, pinned against the door and begging him to stop, while he pressed his foot harder on the gas and smirked.

“Too much?” he teased, “Say pretty, pretty please.”

In other words: give up. You would do no such thing. Your elbow jutted out to the side and clipped his fingertips sharply, and right before he could reach for you again, you were heaving yourself up and leaning almost halfway out the open window, trying to shy away from his touch.

“You fuckin’ nuts?! Get down!” he yelled.

“But it just may be a luuuunatic you’re lookin’ for!” you sang along to your old friend Billy Joel and pretended not to see, or hear, Joel Miller twisting desperately across the center console to take hold of your belt loops.

“Get—I swear to God, kid—DOWN!”

Joel had just managed to finagle a loose, feeble grip on your denim waistband as he tried to keep the car from soaring across three lanes of traffic, was just about to yank you back inside and give you a red-faced, fatherly lecture of a lifetime, when a sound startled you both.

A siren, and a set of flashing blue lights behind you.

You scrambled back in your seat and swallowed a lump in your throat the size of a peach. You turned off Mr. Long Island.

“Great! Good fucking going,” Joel griped beside you as he flicked on his blinker and started to pull off the road.

Dogs no longer on the dash—and a very pissed off cop pulling up behind your car on the shoulder of the road—you got the feeling this would be a long couple of days.

You hadn’t even made it outside the city limits of Boston.

Somewhere between Richmond and Roanoke, the two of you turned off the highway to find a place to sleep.

Joel had sat and stewed and ignored you for the customary duration of about two hours before choosing to re-engage in conversation, but deep down, you knew he was still kind of irked by that reckless driving citation he’d received. You couldn’t help but feel responsible.

Though it had been pretty funny when the state trooper had approached the car and pointedly asked, “What the hell was your daughter doin’ danglin’ outta this thing?!” Joel was nowhere near as amused as you, but he managed to roll with it and told the cop you were just trying to wave to the cows in the fields passing by.

The police officer hadn’t bought it.

He probably would have arrested you both if you hadn’t been such a coquettish flirt and somehow managed to persuade the man to let your ‘dad’ off with just a ticket.

You had hoped that would temper Joel’s anger some, but if anything, the sight only seemed to make him more mad at you. You weren’t sure why.

Presently, you pulled up to Balmaceda’s Mountain Lodge and cast a bleak look at the front office before you.

This looked nothing like the snug, homespun mountain retreat you’d been picturing in your mind. Ahead of your car, there stood a single-story concrete slab of a motel, tilted to one side and consumed almost entirely by the dark of night and wide open wilderness. A big block letter neon sign displaying the owner’s name in red now barely flickered above a muddied, pinkish glow. You groaned.

But before you could complain to your travel companion, Joel was already stepping out of the car and heading toward the main office. Hastily, you followed after.

“No way, Miller. No fucking way are we staying in Murder Motel,” you hissed.

“Bal-ma-ceda’s,” Joel intoned with a maddeningly accurate lilt, ignoring your protests, “I think that’s a Chilean name.”

He swung the door wide for you to enter and pretended not to see you shoot him a glare as you strolled in.

“Needin’ a room?”

The lady behind the counter barely graced your entrance with a look.

“Yes ma’am. Whatever you got,” Joel replied, smiling.

“Smoking or non?”

“Smoking, please.”

Of course he would. You could already feel the fetid stench of American Spirits wafting up to your nostrils.

“King or two Queens?”

“Queens,” you and Joel answered in unison.

At first, the woman nodded, flicked through a rolodex on her desk and nosed through a couple yellowed pages in front of her. Then, frowning, she looked back up.

“Sorry. All the Queens are took up. Rest of the rooms are being fumigated but the one—” she tapped a manicured nail on the motel map, “—and it’s got a King. That okay?”

No. No, it was not. You opened your mouth to speak but were shortly cut off by the woman before you could.

“Of course, if you don’t want dad hoggin’ up all the sheets, there’s a pull-out sofa for him to sleep on.”

The sixty-something desk clerk offered a smile, and you likely would’ve returned the favor if you hadn’t been so deeply nauseated at the thought of everyone around you assuming that Joel was your father. You chanced a look at the man, who seemed equally uncomfortable as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. You sighed.

“Alright.”

Defeated, but marginally pleased that you wouldn’t have to share a bed with your ‘old man’ that night.

Joel paid and signed the papers without another word, or look, to you or the woman. By the looks of it, he just wanted to book the room and get the hell out as fast as possible, his brow pinched inward and lips zipped tight.

He’d turned to leave so quick that he was almost approaching the door when the lady called out,

“Mr. Miller! You forgot your keys.”

You hardly needed to steal a glance in Joel’s direction to see that he was flushed. Even blushing a bit.

You strode over to the counter and intercepted the keys she was dangling for someone to take, then politely, finally, were able to manage a smile and a thank-you.

You turned back to Joel.

“Here you go, Daddy.”

In a blink, the small silver set was pelted in his hands, and the man nearly dropped them—and lost his balance. By some miracle, Joel managed to catch them between his big sweaty palms and step aside just in time for you to saunter past him, straight through the door.

“I’m starved,” you announced, then, averting your face to hide your smug expression and lower your voice a bit, “Feed me, Daddy.”

In that moment, Joel thanked every last one of his lucky stars that his pants were made of denim, and that the denim itself was thick. And that the woman at the front desk was swift to turn her attention back to her tabloid magazine, away from you two, and didn’t look up again.

If they weren’t, and if she hadn’t, it would’ve been plain as day to see that Joel Miller was sporting a hard-on.

A huge, swollen hard-on that made it almost impossible for him to walk and haul luggage and try to keep apace with your steps as you sailed along the gravel drive. So big the man had to will himself not to limp, not to make it known how stiff he was, until he eventually failed at both.

Once you’d grabbed your bags back at the car and made it up to your place, you entered Room 102 with a lightness you hadn’t felt all day. Joel slogged behind with all of the baggage and a boner beneath his jeans that probably could’ve cut sheet metal, if needed.

He was fucked. No doubt he’d have to enlist in the Witness Protection Program after your real father found out that his best friend had gotten visibly bricked up for you, his one and only daughter. How awkward holiday dinners were bound to be from that point on; how humiliating it seemed to him to pop a chub at a thing as dumb as saying ‘daddy’; how batshit insane it was that he hadn’t gotten laid in almost a year, and you were still, somehow, the only one he wanted to break the dry spell.

Joel was better than this. A fucking pro at self-control and all things dirty old guys didn’t do. He could chill out.

He just needed to rub one out in the bathroom, fast.

So, while you flopped down on the bed, Joel dropped every bag and made a beeline for the toilet. Slammed the door so hard he probably could’ve knocked the thing off its hinges, but he didn’t care. He was wrestling his belt, button, and zip off in a second. Then haphazardly turning on the sink to mask the sounds of all that was to come. No pun intended.

He yanked his thick, throbbing, rock-hard member out of its confines and had to hiss through his teeth to keep from moaning. The sensitivity he felt was unbearable, the front of his boxers already painted with pre-cum.

Gingerly, Joel wrapped one hand around his cock and raised the other to anchor himself against the sink. He slid his palm, which he’d just barely lubricated with some spit of his, up and down the shaft and groaned. A welt of pleasure formed in his chest, and he rubbed even faster. And, in spite of his legs feeling a bit like jelly, he stood there and fucked his fist and wished with every bit of himself that it was your warm, lush folds opening around him instead. Stifled a groan and would’ve paid any sum of money to hear your moans spilling out while he thrusted. The act here was more mindless and reflexive than anything else—jerking himself and soaking in the sharp, fiery sensations that shot up through his body.

To him, at least, it was all purely physical. Mechanical.

Nowhere near as euphoric and otherworldly as it would have been with your hand actually curled around him.

Or your lips. Or your tongue. Or your tight, wet cunt.

Fuck, he needed a shower.

Blindly, Joel moved inside the tub to his left and yanked the curtain shut over a space almost two times too small for his frame. He turned on the water and made it hot. Then he fisted his cock again, pressed his head to the shower wall, and pumped himself as fast as his forearm would allow him—trying all the while not to think of you.

You, with all your wily, shrewd ways were still the daughter of the man who guzzled down IPAs with him at the local dive bar every Thursday night over jalapeño poppers and buffalo dip. The man who clapped him over the shoulder and shook his frame with the kind of good-natured sneer that only a best friend could make, ‘A man as suave as you oughta get some tail every now and then. Go find you a gal and fuck her brains out, Joel!’

But the only ‘gal’ Joel wanted to rail was the one who called that man ‘dad’—and just called him ‘daddy’ for the first time that night—and he hated himself for it.

Sparks of pleasure continued to ignite across his lower half as he jerked himself in the shallowest, short pumps. He flicked his hand back and forth, circled the tip with his palm, and felt a groan start to claw at his throat. He tried to picture any face but yours but failed miserably.

All he could think, see, or breathe was you—imagining your lips enveloping the head of his cock, jerking him softly, taking him down to the back of your throat and bobbing that pretty little face up and down his length.

That sweaty, desperate fist of his just wasn’t cutting it.

For the first time, Joel couldn’t make himself cum.

Now even more pent-up and pussywhipped than he’d been when he first started, he slammed his palm against the wall and flung the shower handle in the opposite direction—turning the water as cold as it could get.

Five minutes passed, and the icy spray had scarcely left a dent in his raging erection. Joel stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his hips, and stood in front of the mirror to see that he was still very hard.

Fuck this.

He bunched his strewn aside clothing together and held it over his crotch, discreet as he could, and waddled out.

And, either the temperature inside had just jumped fifty degrees or the world outside had just caught fire, but Joel’s face was flooded with heat the second he exited.

You were sprawled across the bed wearing nothing but a thin white tank, shorts, and fuzzy socks—and a scowl.

“Sofa’s broke,” you said.

Joel blinked.

“Broke?”

You nodded toward the busted sleeper couch at the far end of the room, torn to pieces and kicked a half-dozen times since you’d tried unfolding it in Joel’s absence.

The jaws of the old steel frame had simply refused to give way, and now the sofa was so out of sorts and misshapen that you had no hope of putting it back the way that it was. You sank further in the bed and pointed to the floor.

“You can sleep there.”

Joel eyed a flat sheet and a pillow laid across the carpet, visibly coated in dust and grime. He turned back to you.

“You’re smokin’ crack if you think I’m doin’ that.”

“Be grateful I’m not making you sleep in the car, daddy.”

Again with that fucking name. Joel tightened his grip on the clothes he was holding over his dick and tried to fight a thousand dirty thoughts threatening to seep back into his head.

Unfortunately, the dirty thoughts had hands—and were beating his ass to a bloody pulp when he first caught sight of your nipples poking up through your shirt. Just when the man might have started to drool or else begun humping that pile of clothes, you snapped your fingers.

“Miller Lite. Eyes up here.”

Fuck.

“Got a…stain on your shirt,” he grumbled in his defense.

“Shut up. Now, we can flip for the bed if you want.”

By turns, Joel’s focus was slowly coming back, and the man was trying like hell to find a place on your face that didn’t arouse him to no end—to help ease the intrusive thoughts and all. So far his search had yielded nothing.

“Like, uh…coin?” he asked. Endearingly stupid.

“Heads, I win,” you said, nodding, “Tails…”

Joel swallowed.

“Tails, what?”

“Tails, you tell me what was going on in your head when you were jacking off to the thought of me just now.”

Your words came out in a hurry, almost too quick for Joel to comprehend. He still heard them, though, and nearly choked on his spit when he tried to swallow again.

“I wasn’t—”

“You were,” you bit back, “I heard you moan my name.”

Joel didn’t remember that. Joel didn’t remember much of anything that had taken place in that bathroom apart from being implacably horny and unable to bust a nut. You stepped off the bed to stand in front of him.

“What? Cat got your tongue all of a sudden?” you sneered, “Think I’m just gonna run off and tell my da—”

“Don’t,” Joel’s response was immediate, insistent. Then, setting his jaw in a way you knew too well, contemplating about fifty different thoughts in the span of two seconds, he pressed the clothes pile to his crotch even tighter and sighed, “Don’t…do that, please. I’ll take the floor.”

You raised both brows, mildly amused.

“I said we could flip for it. C’mon,” you said.

“Ain’t got any coins.” Joel was already retreating to his makeshift sleeping pad on the floor, eyeing the shag carpet for any traces of blood, piss, or rodent droppings. Before he made it too far, you reached for his arm.

Joel tensed under your touch.

“We can try something else.” Your voice was cloying, almost too sweet to be trusted.

It had just dawned on you then how bare the man standing before you was. Clad in only his towel, every taut, toned inch of Joel’s body was there on display—coated with sweat and a fine sheen from the shower, his skin practically shone in the glow of the bedside lamp. You watched him shift in place and saw the towel around his hips stir along with it. He never let those old clothes in his hands move an inch away from his groin, though.

“What game?” he asked.

“Something my roommates showed me,” you began, “‘Too Hot.’”

“Too Hot?”

“You heard me.”

“What, like— like Spin the Bottle, or some bullshit?”

Joel could just picture it: a gaggle of your college pals huddled around an old, empty bottle of Bud Light as you watched it turn circles again, and again, and again on the dorm’s linoleum floor. You tugging at the sleeve of some oversized man-child from a frat Joel couldn’t name, leaning in and beaming like the insatiable flirt he knew you to be, asking that boy if he wanted to sneak off somewhere and let his tongue take a tour of your mouth.

The thought made Joel’s stomach turn.

Presently, you wrinkled your nose up at him.

“Spin the Bottle? That’s rookie shit,” you made another face reminding Joel, once more, how little he knew of the life you lived 1,900 miles away from Austin, at college.

He still couldn’t shake the thought of those boys.

“No, Joel,” you shook your head, drawing your syllables out for effect, “‘Too Hot’ is just…edging your opponent.”

Joel’s throat tightened, and he tried not to let his eyes widen too much, but he was almost certain they had. Before he even knew the words he was saying, the thought of your father taking his fist—or a shotgun—to his face made him blurt out in response, stammering,

“We can’t— I can’t— can’t lay one finger on you, darlin’, you know that. Your dad would murder me.”

To his surprise, the smile on your face only widened.

“Bingo,” You stuck one pretty finger in his face like he’d made the world’s finest discovery, “You can’t touch me.”

“Huh?”

“That’s the whole fuckin’ game, Miller. We can kiss, but we can’t touch each other with our hands. First one to crack and grope the other player loses the game.”

Your expression now was something just shy of sadistic. Watching him with keen, narrowed eyes and a wicked little grin, it seemed you were half-expecting him to fold on the spot. No way was this a game your college friends taught you; you just wanted to play him. Make him lose.

And Joel was a man who couldn’t stand to lose, no matter the stakes.

You watched that failure-averse glint eclipse every shade of lust in his eyes, at least momentarily. Suddenly, Joel didn’t look so fearful of your father’s wrath or what lurid implications this night might bring—he just had to win.

“You suck, you know that?” he said, at last, dropping his makeshift shield from the front of his towel and knocking you flat on the bed with a single push.

“You wish I would,” you grumbled, heart still jumping up in your ribcage all the same. You scooted back.

“I bet you will.”

The man was a menace when he had the will to be.

At length, Joel crawled over your body and made room for himself snug between your legs. The bulge that he’d been trying to hide all this time was now heavy on your center, pressed tight to your stupid-thin shorts and the panties you’d conveniently forgotten to wear. He grinned.

“Are tongues allowed?” he hummed.

“Everything but hands,” you shrugged.

Try as you might to play it cool with him, though, every fibre of your being was alight with desire for the man on top of you. You flitted a look between his soft brown eyes and slightly parted lips and could’ve melted in that bed had Joel not lowered his head and dove right in for it.

His mouth was far gentler than expected. Reverent, even. He slotted his lips between your own and made a fine, delicate showing of just how tender and adept he could be while imparting his slow, sweet kisses. Skirted his tongue across your bottom lip before driving it inside, coaxed your mouth open to him in a matter of seconds. He was graceful. And patient. And lithe with that tongue.

Joel Miller was showing off for you—the bastard.

“Sweet little thing,” he groaned against your mouth, “Ain’t felt a tongue this shy on mine in a long time.”

Of course he’d try taunting you, too. Same old Joel.

“What’s it been? Two years since a woman let you touch her?”

“Twenty since I felt one this good.”

You would’ve liked to reach around the back of his head and seize a clump of that thick, dark, grey-speckled hair. But you couldn’t. Your hands remained plastered to the duvet beneath you, and then, just slightly, your fingers started to curl inward. Joel’s palms laid flat on either side of your head.

It felt weird; mashing lips, teeth, and tongue with a man who’d been alive about twenty years longer than you and went further back with your father than you could even remember. What felt even stranger was the fact that you couldn’t touch him, or take him between your two hands.

Joel’s tongue continued roaming every contour and crevice of your mouth like he had an ache for this taste that he just couldn’t quench. Your tongue tried keeping up, too, but frankly, you were too preoccupied by a pulse between your legs—your parts and Joel’s practically throbbing in time with one another—to work just as hard.

Even through the towel, he felt huge.

You whined when Joel started to grind up against you, and shortly, those fingers of yours that had just been grazing the sheets before were gripping them. Tight.

“Earlier…” Joel murmured between kisses, hips working a vicious pace against you, “You said you were hungry.”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry—starved,” he corrected himself, and you almost could’ve smacked him for being so smug about it.

“What’s your point, Miller?” You were fisting the sheets beneath your palms and gyrating your whole body to meet the motions of the man currently dry-humping you.

All of a sudden, Joel’s movements stopped.

He peered down at you with a curious look.

“I could go for something to eat, too,” he declared.

You blinked. Stared. And just when you’d opened your mouth to say, well, maybe you should’ve grabbed us a bite to eat when we passed that Burger King on the way in, dipshit, Joel’s torso started to move down your own. Slow and painstaking as ever as he made sure not to graze one inch of your skin with his hands while he did.

You leapt back against the headboard, almost cracking your skull on the wood.

“Joel— Joel,” you hissed as the heels of your feet dug into the mattress below, and Joel just sank even further.

Then he was slowly, scrupulously pinching the fabric of your shorts between each index finger and thumb, gaze trained close on your lower half to make sure he never touched you, and he started pulling it down.

“This isn’t—” you started again, only to be offered a soft shush and an even quieter rustle of the cotton material sliding down both your legs.

You dropped your head on a pillow and probably could’ve burned a hole in the ceiling with the wide-eyed look you fixed on one spot, in utter disbelief of what he was doing.

“No panties, huh?” Joel observed. Gentle puffs of his breath were now fanning across the whole bare expanse of your lower half, and your pyjama bottoms were shortly discarded. His face was just hovering there, and you could tell that he knew you knew by the way he lowered his voice and brought his head to have only the tips of his chin stubble grazing your abdomen, “You needed this.”

Some lone remnant of ire flashed in your eyes.

“I don’t need shit from you, Miller. You need me. And you’re gonna lose this.”

Even though your gaze was still trained to the ceiling, you could feel him grin against your delicate skin.

“Hey,” he mumbled, “You said tongues are fair game.”

Fuck me, you wanted to keen the second his lips made contact with your…lower ones, and Joel swiftly got to kissing you there just as he’d done to you above. Hot, soft, and tender as the first rays of morning sun heralding a new day, he sponged his lips across the seam of your heat and made as if to massage the place, gently.

You could hear as well as you could feel that effusion of desire leaking out of your cunt and pooling around the man’s mouth. How eager he was to lap it up with his tongue, to grace your ears with those delectable squelching sounds, he caressed every inch between your folds and only sank deeper when you whined above him.

“Joel.”

Right now you couldn’t look down. Not with the way your legs were already trembling around his head, your chest heaving with the fastest, most frenzied breaths. You’d sooner die before you watched him unravel you like this.

“Darlin’, you’ve got a man soaked.” Some sound almost resembling a chuckle reverberated between your thighs and sent a brand new shockwave of pleasure in its wake, “You like it when daddy uses his mouth on this needy, wet cunt, don’t you?”

Yes, yes, you did. But your answer was nonverbal: a sharp curl of your toes and a grip between your fingers so tight across the sheets that he saw you veritably could’ve torn the linens in two.

Neither of you had laid a hand on the other.

Joel was perfectly content to make do with his mouth for now.

“Got those sheets all balled up, you’re fixin’ to rip ‘em.”

“My tongue make ya feel that good, honey?”

“Poor thing can’t even breathe it feels so nice, right?”

So he’d seen you hiccup, try to steady your breaths, and fail before succumbing to a string of lewd moans. Joel saw you, and knew how you felt, as if he’d had his own secret gauge for how good his mouth was doing you in.

Surely, he could’ve sensed the words before they ever came out of your mouth.

“Touch me, Joel, please.”

His tongue was just then making a lazy circuit around your clit, mouth saturated in your juices, when he smiled.

“Nah.”

Curt and cruel as ever. Then:

“No matter how fuckin’ perfect this pussy is, I ain’t losin’.”

He completed the arc with his tongue and took your bud between his lips, sucking in. You almost screamed.

“Motherfucker.”

“Miller, baby, Miller. Close, though.”

And just when you thought he’d had his fill of cheeky games, Joel sucked your clit even harder and flicked the tip of his tongue against your bundle of nerves until you were writhing, crying on the bed above him,

“JoelbabypleasebabyfuckmefuckohfuckitfeelsoGOOD.”

It was a bit tough to decipher through your strangled, desperate moans, but Joel got the picture. Heeding your requests, he kept at that pace above your clit and slid his tongue back and forth, over and over, lapping up your honeyed glaze like it was the finest thing he’d tasted. Scruff harsh against your thighs, lips soft in a perfect suction, Joel Miller had your head swimming in desire and your better judgment dissipating before your eyes.

At the first sign of bliss, your muscles clenched, and the last linchpin of your resolve crumbled right along with it.

You carded your hands through Joel’s hair and grabbed hold of those locks with a full-throated moan, using his head for shameless leverage to buck and rut your hips into his face as you rode out the peaks of your high.

And, ever the gentleman, Joel fought like hell to keep his lips and tongue connected to your core while you writhed above him—this time at liberty to work his arms under your thighs and hold them since you’d given up the game. He would’ve smiled if he weren’t so narrowly preoccupied, seeing you thrash about and moan out loud and fuck his face like it was the last thing tethering you to earth. He liked seeing you come undone beneath him.

A bit too much, if he were being completely honest.

While you made the languid descent from ecstasy and your breaths were still slowing in your chest on the bed, Joel was back on his feet. Padding toward the bathroom door, slamming it shut behind him as he had before. When he returned in a minute or two, he was clothed. He fished for his keys in the pockets of his snug, stonewash Wranglers and made a face. He didn’t look at you.

“I’ll be back,” he said, starting toward the door.

“Back?” You sat up, perplexed, “The hell ya goin’?”

“Out.”

This motherfucker.

“Did I miss something? Were we not just seconds away from getting down to some how’s-your-father?”

Joel visibly grimaced at your choice of sex slang. Under the circumstances, you would concede it wasn’t ideal.

“O-kay, sorry,” you returned, crossing your legs out in front of you, “I mean…don’t you want me to get you off?”

Again, Joel’s expression twisted into something just shy of overwrought, weary, and repulsed—a look that you couldn’t begin to understand, for the life of you—and you watched him flit his eyes from the bed to the door, again and again, seeming to be pining for the sweet release of leaving your shared motel room as soon as possible.

You’d been with your fair share of emotionally avoidant fucksticks, but most of them didn’t ghost until after they’d gotten their nut and felt no reason to stick around. Joel’s exit seemed premature. Strange.

“So you don’t want to fuck?” you asked, deadpan. You’d never been one for beating around the bush.

“Can’t,” Joel shook his head, bringing one hand to rest on his hip while the other fiddled uncomfortably with his car keys, “Your dad…that’s just— that’s crossing a line.”

“And being nose-deep in my cunt isn’t?”

You stared him down, incredulous.

So now he decides to claim the moral high ground, after coaxing you to soak every inch of his beard and cum all over his tongue? How very fucking charitable of him.

“That’s different,” Joel retorted, rubbing his knuckles in a nervous tic, “That was a game. I won. We’re done.”

You set your jaw just tight enough to keep your tongue in check and refrained from firing off a brash, unsavory remark. It wouldn’t do either of you a lick of good.

You let him leave. Joel had told you that you could keep the bed, he didn’t mind, and then he slipped out the door without another word. Leaving you cold and alone on the soiled, tawdry floral bedspread of Room 102, wondering what the hell had gone so wrong in the span of the last five minutes. From the center of the bed, you could see Joel’s Bronco pull off into the silent, frigid night.

You were still hungry as shit.

Rolling onto your side and rummaging through the bags at the end of the bed, you found nothing even remotely edible—save for, literally, one of Joel’s brownie edibles—and you groaned out loud. You threw your shorts back on, stepped into your old Luccheses, and did a quick circuit around the room to find your jacket before you left. As it turned out, you’d forgotten it back in Joel’s car.

You dropped to your knees and went back to tearing through luggage, searching for some suitable outerwear.

By the end of that second suitcase foray, though, you found you had nothing of your own that was hefty enough to brave the below-freezing temperatures outside, so you had to settle on a dark brown, fleece-lined coat from Joel’s bag. It was durable enough but about four sizes too big—and reeked of cigarette smoke.

You trudged outside, not really knowing where you were going or what you were hoping to find. Your stomach growled, and a few cool gusts of wind came to lap at the bare skin of your thighs where Joel’s spit was still drying.

You stepped a few feet out and turned toward the road.

Bal-ma-ceda’s, you read the seedy neon sign and heard Joel’s enunciation of the name ring between your ears.

What you wouldn’t give for the greasiest, girthiest, barely-FDA-approved 7-Eleven corndog to kill your thoughts about that sleazy little fucker right now.

You started toward the convenience store across the street but quickly found that it was closed—along with every other establishment on that stretch of road. You glanced toward the front office and caught a glimpse of your old friend dozing behind the counter. The speakers outside were playing a tinny rendition of ‘Piano Man.’

Just as you tried not to barf in your mouth at the sound and silently primed yourself for a long, long trek through the boonies to the nearest gas station, you stopped.

In a compact little breezeway that cleaved the motel in two, you saw light pool around an old vending machine.

You almost fell over yourself trying to get to it.

Never mind the fact that there were about half a dozen ragtag teens decked out in camouflage and comically tattered denim cutoffs crowding the area. All absently smoking and blowing o’s, or else sipping on cans of beer in the cramped, concrete passage, they looked bored. A couple lazy smiles broke out upon seeing your approach.

You nodded back and sidled up to the snack dispenser.

Then you zeroed in on the first sugar-packed products you could find: a pack of sour gummy worms and a bottle of Sprite—no, Mountain Dew—and a chocolate bar. Maybe a bag of Cheetos or Fritos thrown in for good measure. All of the snacks were probably stale as shit and hadn’t seen a replacement since dinosaurs roamed the earth, but you didn’t care. You were prying singles out of your wallet and salivating before you could think.

“Gotta kick it a couple times ‘fore it’ll spit anything out,” one of the boys lounging around you piped up.

You’d just inserted a couple bills and were waiting for the machine to dispense your gummy worms, when the thing appeared to stall. Stuck in its tracks, like he’d said.

You raised a brow and tapped the toe of your boot to the appliance, turning toward the one who’d addressed you,

“Like this?”

“Nope. Nuh-uh.” The redhead got up and strode over, where his much bigger, square-toed boot delivered a kick to the vending machine that almost toppled it.

A bag of Trolli Sour Brite Crawlers dropped out.

The kid—who actually happened to be nineteen years old and a student at some college a few states away, along with his whole group of friends—was kind enough to repeat the same ritual for all of your treats. You’d just gathered your stuff together and were about to thank him for his services, when the guy presently stuck a hand in your direction and introduced himself as Connor.

Then Blake. Then Micah. Then Wyatt. Then Trent. All traveling with their team for a tournament that weekend.

Then a beer was held out to you. You declined. A little homemade deer jerky? No, thanks. How ‘bout some Oreos? I’m good on snacks, really. Well, shit, you seem a little high-strung, why don’t you take a hit right here? And Connor pulled his dab pen out from his pocket.

Well.

You hadn’t smoked in a minute. You might’ve decided to take a bite out of Joel’s brownie back in the room, but you hadn’t known how strong it was—or where the fuck he’d gotten it. The pen this stranger was offering you was one that looked similar enough to the kinds you’d seen passed among your friends a hundred times before that you felt comfortable taking one hit, maybe. Two max.

You felt stupid as soon as you’d sucked in every breath, but you ended up taking four hits in total.

You hacked and sputtered and blinked up at Connor, who was grinning big.

“Alright, hardass,” he chuckled, taking back the device.

“Daddy know you smoke?” Wyatt cut in with a sneer.

Daddy?

There was no fucking way Joel looked that old for everyone to think he was your father. You inwardly cringed.

“Y’all been spying on us?”

“Ain’t shit else to do around here.” That was Blake.

You tried to swallow but found your throat much drier than it had been before. And not just from the weed.

“He doesn’t care,” you said, managing a shrug.

It wasn’t entirely false. Joel did give no fucks about you.

“Dude looks like a— a fuckin’ DEA agent or something,” Micah said, amused.

“Like that guy from Narcos,” Trent snickered.

You’d never seen the show and didn’t particularly care to know what law enforcement archetype Joel appeared to embody—in fact, you didn’t want to discuss him at all.

Just as the first fuzzy beads of warmth began to roll into your head, you were already planning your exit strategy. Thank Connor for his selfless assistance and cannabis, bid the group a good night and the best of luck in their upcoming lax tournament, and be done with this shit, ASAP. You were still trying to steady your tongue in the bone-dry cavern that had become your mouth when one of them kicked at a near-empty case of beer at their feet.

“We’re about out.” Micah announced.

Seconds later, Connor was turning to you.

“Wanna…restock in our room?” he asked, the corners of his lips twisting into a smile as he looked down at you.

You crinkled your nose and shook your head. Connor leaned his whole weight against the vending machine between you, seeming unconvinced by your answer.

“I don’t believe you,” he said, “I think you wanna come.”

“Do I?”

You only entertained the backtalk because your brain was currently swimming in a far-off, pleasant void of contentment and indifference. Every sharp edge dulled in your mind, to an extent, and your body at ease. You didn’t have to be home to anyone, anytime, and Joel was probably halfway plastered at a dive bar down the road. You didn’t move back when Connor stepped forward.

He wasn’t even that close. You could leave whenever you pleased.

“For sure. I think you’d enjoy our shitty beer and even shittier company. We can smoke some more, too.”

The man certainly had a way with words. He muscled in a bit closer.

“You think so?” you hummed.

“I do. I really do.”

“And you’re willing to risk the wrath of my dad if he finds out where I am?” You made it sound like a challenge.

“Wyatt can fight.”

Connor motioned toward his friend, who was mindlessly chomping on deer jerky in his lawn chair off to the side, glossy-eyed and hammered. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Okay, but make sure he’s ready. I can only stay for five.”

Connor seemed wounded as he put a hand over his heart in mock dismay.

“Only five minutes?” he griped, “Why not ten? Or twenty?”

“Six.”

“Fifteen at least.”

You folded your arms over your chest and felt an opaque haze beginning to settle over your brain. It wasn’t quite a high, just a lightness of being that drove tender little streaks up your spine. Like Joel, tickling at your sides while you writhed around in the front seat of his car.

This time you took the beer Connor offered and cracked it open. He seemed pleased—and taken by surprise—to see you down the drink in spite of the overflowing foam.

“Ten,” you returned once you’d swallowed it all.

“Twenty.”

“Honey?”

The last voice didn’t belong to anyone in the group. You turned on your heels and almost coughed up your beer.

It was Joel, of course.

Standing at the threshold of the breezeway like a surly, disconcerted parent, of all things, watching you like he’d just caught you red-handed in the most horrific of acts.

Clutched in one hand was a Burger King takeout bag.

“Daddy. Hi,” you breathed.

Apparently your attempt at casual came across more slurred than anything else, because Joel stepped closer.

‘Let’s go’ was all he said. No accusations, no threats, no outward displays of emotion found anywhere on his face. Just a gruff ‘Let’s go,’ and a free hand reaching for yours.

Instinctively, you recoiled.

“We’re just talking,” you said, gesturing behind you. If you could have seen the uniform looks of discomfort and agita, damn near treading on fear, among them all, you probably wouldn’t have bothered.

“Good. Now you’re leaving,” Joel supplied in a moment.

He was blissfully indifferent. Asserting his will in a space where, less than one hour ago, he couldn’t bear to share a room with you, much less impart a shred of dignity or care to your condition. He had nerve, that was for sure.

“I’m not leaving,” you said, a touch more venom in your voice than you intended.

Joel raised both eyebrows.

“No?”

His expression, directed to you, was infuriating.

“Fuck no,” you answered.

A few of the guys behind you sucked in a breath as if to say, ‘Okaaaaay, time to go!’ but then Joel pressed,

“For someone who wants to be treated like an adult—”

“Adult?” you scoffed, “You treat me plenty like an adult, Joel. Just whenever the designation suits your needs, huh?”

No one moved.

Well, Joel flinched a bit. Then he squeezed your wrist.

Truly, you never failed to underestimate the man’s brute strength when it came to carrying you off at will—but there you were, being yanked behind the big, bad Joel Miller as he hauled you off to who-knows-where. You scowled but didn’t bother to steal a glance behind you at the beer, boys, or vending machine treats you were being forced to abandon. All you could do was stare a hole through Joel’s skull and tug back—largely ineffectually.

“You’re an ass,” you spat, digging your heels into the gravel terrain as he pulled you along.

“You’re a brat,” he fired back.

In a minute, the exterior of Room 102 was coming into view; Joel was practically toting your ass like a knapsack.

“You just abandoned me back here, Miller. You— you don’t get to pretend like you give a fuck now.”

“I was getting you Burger King, for Christ’s sake.”

Joel was fiddling with the lock now. Simultaneously juggling your hand, the paper bag, and a set of keys that didn’t seem keen on cooperating, he huffed, disgruntled.

“Even got you those—” Joel grunted, thrusting his shoulder into the door, “—fuckin’ curly fries you wanted.”

Your jaw slackened. That was supposed to make it okay?

“Joel, FUCK your curly fries!” you cried, “Are you seriously still trying to play good guy right now?”

“If that’s what you—”

“No. You don’t get to tonguefuck your friend’s daughter and buy her a goddamn Double Whopper and act like it’s all good. Sure as hell don’t get to dictate who I talk to.”

Like he had before, Joel cringed to hear your crude language—particularly as it related to what he had done to you but didn’t seem capable of owning up to just yet. You couldn’t bear another second of that look.

“Fuck this. I’m sleeping in the car,” you grumbled.

You thrashed your arm out of Joel’s hold and started off in the other direction. Picked up your pace when you heard the bag of fast food drop to the ground and Joel trotting after you. Calling your name.

Even at your most brisk, you knew you couldn’t outstrip those big, beefy legs of his. He gained on you in seconds.

So you took off running.

Joel gripped his side, thinking, ‘Aw, hell’ before breaking out in a sprint just as fast.

You were pissed at how far he’d parked this time around. You caught sight of the old Bronco perched a ways away from your room and almost opted to change course on the spot, to the front office—maybe dive behind the counter and beg that poor old woman to give you another place to stay—but you kept at it, anyway. For once, you were glad to have had Joel beat by so many years, because the man’s endurance was, evidently, shit.

“Hey, s— stop!” Joel shouted after you.

Fat chance, Miller.

You closed in on the car. Joel rarely ever locked it.

Your hand secured a grip on the door and jerked it back. It swung right open.

Just as Joel was pulling up the rear, you had the driver’s side slammed shut and your palm laid flat on the door lock knob—shoving the little black lever down each time Joel tried to unlock the car.

It was a fruitless endeavor, you knew; you couldn’t keep the man out all night so long as he had the car keys in his hands. You could piss him off some more, though.

“You won the fucking game, just take the bed!” you said, straining against the door with your weight pressed hard on that knob. Joel was furiously working to get it open.

“I mean it, Joel, I-I don’t wanna sleep in there wi— shit.”

You leapt back in your seat as Joel flung the door wide open. You scrambled across the center console, made a desperate grasp at the passenger door to climb out the other side, but your ankle was taken between two hands. Just as you tried to slink out on the opposite end of the vehicle, Joel pulled you right back in. Flipped the center console up so you were sprawled flat across the bucket seat at the front of his car and pinned underneath him.

Then he pulled you over his lap.

Not into it—nestled on top of his crotch, with your ass pointing up in the air. Joel’s big ass Carhartt jacket was bunching up around your torso, collar crowding you up to the chin. Your twisted just far enough to meet his gaze.

“What do you want from me?” Joel demanded, “What?”

You stared up at him, poring over your options in the span of what seemed like two milliseconds. Wondering, silently, why he wasn’t touching you anywhere.

“I want you to fuck me, Joel,” you replied at length.

Seated between driver’s side and shotgun, Joel looked perfectly unperturbed, raking a hand through his silver-flecked hair and letting his gaze trail up to the ceiling, as if considering something of grave importance.

“And what after that?” he asked, still staring at the roof.

Before you could reply, though, he was forging ahead,

“What happens when I can’t even look your dad in the eye knowin’ I’ve been balls deep in his little girl, and every fuckin’ time I’m over at your house or you’re over at mine, I’ll be thinkin’— no, dreamin’ of what it was like to have you wrapped around my cock, screamin’ my name and takin’ it so deep inside you like I know ya want it?”

You paused a beat. Had to bat your eyes a couple times to rid your head of those filthy thoughts he’d planted.

“We could, uh— fuck…then…too,” you ventured quietly.

Joel grinned at the spot he was watching, humorless.

“That easy, huh?” he mumbled.

Again, before you could speak, Joel continued,

“I can’t even cum with you on my mind,” he said, and for a split second you thought that might mean he wasn’t attracted to you in that way, when he swallowed hard and closed his eyes, “I’ve tried beating off twice today—in the bathroom and as soon as I left earlier—and I can’t…even get close with you here. You fuck with my head.”

You fuck with my head.

Without meaning to, your hips stirred over his, and Joel audibly groaned. At last, he dropped a palm to your ass and gave it a taut smack, and your whole lower half reverberated with the sensation—and a welt of pleasure.

“You think I want it to be like this?” Joel said, voice strained, fingers kneading over the flesh he’d just struck, “Think I enjoy havin’ the biggest set’a fuckin’ blue balls known to man whenever I’m around ya, honey?”

You winced when you were spanked again, letting out a whimper into the seat’s charcoal-colored upholstery.

“I can help with that,” you hissed, feeling him massage the spot once more. You arched your back into his touch.

“No. You’d make it worse,” Joel shook his head, “Once I get a feel inside this sweet cunt I’ll never wanna stop.”

At the soft rumble of his words, you felt yourself growing aroused. Noticeably so. Your skin broke out in broad swaths of gooseflesh every place he touched, and in the wake of those hands grew a pool of dull warmth. Sticky, slick, soak-straight-through-your-shorts sort of warmth.

Joel’s hand hovered about an inch from the source.

“We’d get bored eventually. It’d be fine,” you said, words crawling off of your parched tongue with some difficulty now. That faint, heady feeling from before had become a high, finally, and it seemed every sense you possessed was ablaze with desire. You were barely able to breathe, much less speak, but there you went, rambling anyway,

“Soon enough, you’ll get over the thrill of screwing me, and I’ll find a nice, polite, age-appropriate boy to spend the rest of my life having nice, polite sex with, and we can both pretend like this never happened. Deal?”

It was quite possibly the dumbest offer you’d ever made.

Joel slotted his hand between your legs to rub against that dampened patch of fabric. You almost jumped.

“Yeah? Just fuck around and forget about it?” Joel spoke, and you truly couldn’t tell if it was a sneer or real sincerity, as your eyes were squeezing shut, “Is that all you want from me, sugar?”

His fingers slipped beneath your shorts and made swift, easy contact with your heat. You buried your face in the seat and tried to muffle the sounds that were clawing their way out of your chest, while your hips tilted up.

“Please, Joel,” you whimpered.

By now, your head was spinning, in a daze, that you almost didn’t notice him tug your shorts down your legs. Or take them off at your ankles. You did get a sense of when he was breaching your folds—taking two, meaty fingers and trailing them up the slick glaze of your cunt.

“Doesn’t seem like this pussy wants ‘nice and polite’ to me,” Joel murmured, eyes gradually fastening to that lovely, exposed spot pointed up to him. He wet his lips, “Needs somethin’ else, doesn’t she, darlin’?”

Speaking of your pussy in third-person wasn’t something you ever thought could be hot, but coming from Joel? While his fingers traced up and down the seal of your entrance, tips circling your tight, hot, throbbing hole? Arousing didn’t even begin to cover it.

You pushed your ass back, and Joel chuckled above you.

“Wanna fuck daddy’s fingers? Is that it?” he taunted.

No, no, no—you wanted his cock buried inside you. But now you just needed reprieve from that ache, and your senses were practically on the fritz trying to get it.

Your hips rocked back and forth over his fingers—sliding the two digits in and out of your cunt with each motion—and, as much as Joel would’ve liked to make you beg and wait a little, your desperate pleas as you fucked his hand were more than enough to satiate him. He worked his free arm under your body and pinched hard on one nipple, eliciting a soft moan of ‘Joel’ underneath him.

“Oh, baby,” he breathed, watching you rut your hips for more friction, “That’s it, baby, fuck daddy’s fingers. Use my hand to make yourself feel good— that’s my girl.”

At the last, you probably could’ve cum on the spot, and Joel could tell by the way you clenched around him. He nudged a third finger between your plush, sensitive walls and heard your moans take on an even higher pitch.

“Hurts,” you whimpered, with no real indication of pain. You just felt stretched out, stuffed, and aching again. The only ‘hurt’ was not having even more of him in you, “Need more of you daddy, please. It hurts.”

Joel wanted to see you cum on his fingers. He really did. But when you got down to begging and pleading for his cock like that, the man’s whole heartbeat throbbed in his jeans, and he simply didn’t possess the resolve to refuse.

He hoisted you upright in his lap so you were straddling his hips. The fabric of his jacket hung loose off your frame and both of your arms as you latched around him.

“Are you high?” Joel asked, voice evening out all of a sudden to pin you with a serious look.

“Yeah.”

“How high?”

“I can consent, Joel.” Your thighs tightened around his sides, and your hips had already begun to stir.

“Not just can consent—do consent. Do you want this?” Joel’s hands moved from the small of your back to cup your face. You gave him a squished-together pout.

“Yes, I want this,” you managed through pinched cheeks. When Joel released you, you lowered your own hands to the buckle of his belt.

It felt foreign and familiar at once—this age-old ritual of fumbling for each other’s clothes and wrestling to get them off, like your bodies might catch fire if you didn’t act fast enough. Joel was a tad more graceful as he shrugged his jacket off of you, peeled your tank top off, and helped you maneuver your bare limbs around him. You, on the other hand, felt half-feral and every bit the wide-eyed novice while you stripped his body garment by garment and wordlessly told him just leave the jeans, I can’t wait another fucking second. Joel bit back a grin and had to steady you above him, feeling his cock twitch against his tummy but still slowing down enough to remind you, shhh, shhh, honey, it ain’t goin’ nowhere.

You had a tough time remembering that as you rubbed your wet centre over his shaft. Feeling so good you feared the feeling might escape any second, you whined.

“I know, baby, I know,” Joel cooed as your head fell in the crook of his neck, “Still hurtin’ somethin’ awful, hm?”

The tip of his cock just barely grazed over your clit and you buried your face even deeper, nodding furiously; Joel leaned forward to grab some item out of the glove compartment behind you and braced your body to him.

He tore something with his teeth. You craned your neck just slightly.

“Don’t laugh,” Joel muttered, voice momentarily stifled by bright, metallic wrapping.

“Is that…” You straightened up enough to cock a brow at him. Joel’s tongue rolled across the inside of his cheek.

“Cobwebs and all.”

Beneath your gaze was the flimsiest, dust-ridden, damn-near vintage condom—a decade old, at least.

“You buy that before or after the Great Depression?” you teased.

“Shut up.” Joel was already working it onto his dick.

“So Prohibition-coded.”

“I can find something to shove in that mouth, y’know.”

You were having too much fun at the old man’s expense, blissfully unaware that Joel was about one Gen X joke away from making you suck three of his arousal-soaked fingers. When you opened your mouth to speak—to try another wisecrack or else question the integrity of this ancient relic of a rubber—Joel crashed his lips against yours and made you mute with his tongue instead.

At the same time, he slowly eased himself inside you.

Your mouth fell open when you sank down on his length, fully, but no sound came out. You just gripped Joel’s shoulders and peered into his face as if to say, ‘Shit.’

No way any man was ever meant to feel this good.

No shot your walls were fitting his cock like a glove.

Joel soaked in your gaping, wordless stare with a nod.

“Good?”

“Great.”

You’d give all eight inches of the man a goddamn standing ovation if your legs weren’t feeling like jelly. Joel let out a small grunt when you clenched around him.

“Nice and…easy,” he said, as much to himself as to you. He pinched your hip in one gigantic hand and held you there, “Let ya take a second and adjust, alright, darlin’?”

“But Joel—” you whined, already trying to slide back up.

His grip kept you impaled on his dick, anchored in place. With the other hand, he brought a thumb to your clit.

“Just feel me, sweet pea,” Joel said, slow and languid as molasses while he touched you, “Ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

You couldn’t be sure if the man was a sadist or the world’s biggest fan of cockwarming—or just polite.

The bare, slightly-less-sexy truth was that Joel hadn’t done this in a very, very long time. Even the sex he’d had, close to a year ago, was something more of a flashbang than a bona fide carnal experience; he’d just bent a perfect stranger over the bathroom sink and drilled her. This was a fever dream, a first to end all firsts, and at present, Joel felt himself toeing a razor-thin line between self-restraint and bliss by just your presence alone.

In short, he didn’t want to fuck it up by busting too soon.

When you rolled your hips and squeezed your eyes shut above him, well, Joel almost fell into a panic.

Think of golf. Differential equations. The weather in Kuwait. Anything to get his mind off of how tight your pussy was holding him in, how lithe your body worked to grind above him while he sat there, so helpless and—

“Big,” you whined, stretched to the fullest you’d ever been. Unable to bounce up and down like you wanted but still squirming for more friction, “So big, daddy.”

Hockey. Geometry. Wind patterns around the Maldives. He held you even tighter, but your motions were growing desperate. You had to start moving.

“Joel, please,” you begged him.

“Baby, I’m—”

About to cum. I am two seconds away from cumming.

“Need you now, need you so—” your voice broke off in a moan as you sank your nails into his muscly shoulders, “So bad, daddy, please, please, please—”

On the seat beside you both, your phone lit up, buzzing:

Dad 💙

Fuck.

FUCK.

Your eyes locked on Joel’s in a shared look of panic and horror, and for once, your bodies stopped, perfectly still.

You knew your dad too well. Just as much as Joel did.

Your father wasn’t the type to call late at night unless something was up. And he wouldn’t stop calling until someone picked up.

“Should we…?” That whisper came from you.

Joel was frozen in fear, eyes now glued to the screen.

“Just…give it a sec,” he breathed, “Might be nothing.”

But his tone couldn’t mask the dread behind his words. He gritted his teeth and watched the phone ring.

It stopped.

Then started again.

The pair of you clung to one other in the old Ford’s bucket seat like your dad might veritably hear the two of you having sex from 1,300 miles away if you moved.

It stopped once more.

The screen stayed black.

You let out a small sigh and felt your eyes start to close.

Then the trill of a ringtone under Joel’s ass started up the second they’d fluttered shut, and suddenly your gaze was wide, and frightened, and freaking the fuck out when you realized that your dad was trying to reach Joel.

“Answer,” you hissed.

“What?!” The whites of Joel’s eyes were bigger now than you’d ever seen them.

“He’ll know something’s up! Just—” you slipped your hand under Joel’s rear, completely devoid of any sexual insinuation this time, and yanked his old iPhone 6 out of his pants, “Answer it. Now. Be cool.”

Joel’s expression was still paralyzed with terror, but he brought the ringing phone to his ear anyway. Gingerly tapped ‘answer’ once you’d smacked him on the bicep.

“He-e-y man.”

You were so fucking dead.

Your face hovered mere inches away, and you could almost hear the warble of your father’s voice on the line.

“Great,” Joel answered, stilted as a puppet with someone’s hand up its ass, “So good. How are you?”

A beat.

“She’s good, she’s good.”

For a moment, Joel’s gaze flitted to the spot where your bodies were still connected and you saw a flash of desire, followed by guilt, then his head tip back to close his eyes as he tried to concentrate on the conversation at hand.

“In the bathroom…Uh-huh…Phone must be dead…”

“No, she’s been a trooper—just fine…”

“Somewhere just shy’a Bedford, I think…”

You listened to Joel drone on and clench his jaw, and every now and then you’d feel a squelch in that tiny space between you two when one of you moved, and it occurred to you then that it probably was not in your best interest to stay seated on his dick while he talked. You shifted your legs underneath yourself to get up.

When you started to slide up Joel’s shaft—the first time you’d ever really moved, mind you—you felt a knot in your tummy start to tighten. The friction was to die for.

You sank back down and heard a hoarse little cry spill out from your lips before you got the chance to swallow it.

At the same time, Joel groaned. Then stopped himself. Then coughed—profusely.

“Sorry, just got a little—” Suddenly, a fiery set of eyes were searing holes in your head, angry as they were desperate, “—tickle in my throat is all.”

You ignored the strained Southern drawl and the eyes that looked ready to put a bullet between your own, and you rocked your hips again. The sensation was just too good. Your body practically acted of its own accord, and suddenly you were bouncing up and down in Joel’s lap.

The man beneath you looked enraged. Aroused.

Ready to wring your neck and maybe spit in your mouth.

“World’s movin’ too. damn. fast,” Joel seethed, trying to communicate to you semi-covertly while you rode his cock, “She’s one hell of a— firecracker, man, I’ll tell ya.”

You heard your dad’s laughter on the other end. While the sound subsided to chuckles, Joel grabbed your neck. He covered the mouthpiece for a second, then, in a murmur,

“This is not a fucking game.”

He squeezed your throat so tight you probably could’ve lost all circulation going to your head, but you smiled.

In spite of the hot, glowing embers of pleasure taking shape at the pit of your stomach and the coil that kept twisting and swelling inside, you grinned down at him. Then you mouthed, softly, ‘Yes, it is,’ and you rocked your hips against him even harder.

Joel drew in a breath through his teeth and watched you ride him with bleary, half-hooded eyes—keeping one hand on your carotid as the other hand cradled the phone to his ear. The man was transfixed.

By the pinch of just one set of fingers, you knew you were done for. A dwindling supply of oxygen, combined with your high and the hundreds of nerve-endings being brushed by Joel’s cock every other moment, you were spiraling toward release and didn’t know how to stop it.

When Joel pursed his lips and lifted his hips to start fucking up into you, you had to let go. Couldn’t hold on. You grabbed hold of his forearm, still hovering across your throat, and you moaned as the bliss washed over you. You slid your needy lower half back and forth, squeezed that tanned, tough arm practically bulging with veins above you, and you came around Joel’s cock. You whimpered his name, again and again, feeling him stroke your walls and fuck you through a euphoric high.

The next thing you felt was the seat cushion behind you—and the shift of Joel’s body weight pinning you down.

His cock hadn’t slipped an inch when he flipped you over; his grip was still secure on the phone.

The only thing that had changed was that look: malicious and vindictive with the hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Joel felt you pulse around him, starting to come down from your high, and he just decided to fuck you even harder.

“Shouldn’t be much longer now…” Joel hummed aloud, lowering a hand to your throbbing clit and muttering a soft ‘Uh-huh’ to your father while you clawed at his wrist.

“Joel,” you choked.

Now the feeling was too much. You were still so wet, raw, and sensitive that the pad of his thumb almost drew a shriek from your chest when he moved his finger in circles. You heard them chat about football. Joel shared a short, strained laugh with the man on the other end and pretended not to hear your whines as he continued to rail you senseless in the front seat of his car.

With the diversion of the phone call keeping his own climax at bay, Joel was free to fuck you as rough as he pleased—and couldn’t be more in awe seeing you veer close to the edge, again.

“Please, daddy, please,” you beseeched him, tears springing to your eyes as Joel’s thrusts kept shaking you.

He just shook his head and smiled as if to say, ‘Hold still.’

“It’ll be fine,” he said, “Mahomes is next-level. Best they can do is keep their heads down and take it, y’know?”

Your own soft, aching hole was taking the beating of a lifetime, and somehow, you managed to meet Joel’s gaze with a look that almost struck him as loving. That blissed-out, cockdrunk look of pure debauchery crossing your eyes in a way he hadn’t come to find in ages, if ever, was intoxicating. He felt the first fluttering pulses of your orgasm squeeze around him again, and suddenly he was pumping you faster, drilling you harder, gripping your throat and starting to sense his own climax draw near.

He couldn’t finish off like this.

Not talking shop and Super Bowl to your father—no.

Joel had to do something you might rightly hate him for for the rest of your life, and never forget, or forgive.

He lowered the phone, and right before he did, said,

“She just stepped outta the bathroom, actually. No, yeah, she’s right here. Wanna say hello?”

Your heart skipped a beat and nearly jumped into your throat. You tried to shake your head—fast—and even went so far as to try and dodge the phone when Joel brought it down to your ear, but that motherfucker had a grip like you couldn’t believe and wouldn’t stop stroking inside you or holding you down. You hated that you found Joel’s total dominance and control…kind of hot.

You flashed him the most nasty, bratty, ‘I’ll get you for this, Joel’ look you could muster anyway, and when he pressed the phone to your cheek, you mouthed a few more silent expletives before changing your air entirely:

“Hey, dad!”

Joel knew he was cooked from the second you said hello. Something objectively malevolent inside him got a rush to hear you speak to your dad in such a contrived, high-pitched tone of voice, knowing the unspeakable things he was doing to your body the whole fucking time. He could focus, now, with no need for any strained civilities of his own, but deep down, he knew it wouldn’t last long. He would not last long.

Might as well make it fun while it lasts.

“He…did,” you hummed, flitting your eyes up to Joel when he brushed your lower lip with his thumb—still holding the phone up for you while he rutted into you, “No, nuh-uh…Mr…Mr. Miller didn’t mind, no sir.”

Shit, the sound of you saying ‘sir’ was something that made Joel’s whole body lurch with pleasure. He made a mental note to have you call him that later and stroked your lip once more.

You tried to turn your face away—telling Joel, wordlessly, that you couldn’t keep up this conversation with your father if you had a thumb in your fucking mouth, but Joel didn’t care. He watched you pause for a moment, let just the tip of his finger press into your tongue, then, battling your better judgment, wrap your lips around the digit almost cautiously and suck. He knew you liked it, too.

He knew it by the way you bobbed your head, hummed, and nodded every time he thrust inside your aching walls and dragged his cock back out. The way your teeth clamped hard on his thumb whenever he grazed a particularly sensitive spot and how your lips held him in like a gag, or some other thing to keep you quiet amidst the moans and the whimpers bubbling up in your chest.

Suddenly, Joel was at your other ear, lips grazing skin and tongue praising your every move.

“My sweet girl.”

“Doin’ such a good job stayin’ quiet.”

“Takin’ daddy’s cock so well, aren’t ya, darlin’?”

From that point on, every single one of your father’s words over the phone fell on deaf ears—all you could hear was Joel. All you could feel was Joel. Your lips parted as if starting to speak, but all that would come out were small puffs of air, perfectly in sync with each one of Joel’s thrusts.

“You okay, hon? You sound…distracted,” your dad pressed. A hint of concern rose from his end of the line.

At length, Joel gripped both of your legs and brought them up over his shoulders, and he grinned before kissing your ankle and shoving his cock even deeper.

“Yes!” you yelped as you crushed the phone to your ear, hoping your father couldn’t hear any of the filthy sounds down below, “Just a little stretched—I mean stressed out, is all.”

The sick, smug fuck currently wedged eight inches deep inside you almost burst out laughing. If you weren’t so perilously close to your fourth orgasm of the night, you would’ve told Joel to take a long walk off a short bridge.

“Just worried about grades a-a-and all,” you stammered.

Joel leaned forward and almost tore a scream out of your chest—his tip was kissing the edge of your cervix now.

“Yes, sir. I will.” You tried your hardest not to whine and almost let out a sigh, “I’ll…ask him about it, for sure.”

As bone-crushingly fun as this all was, Joel was close.

He could feel it in the furthest recesses of his stomach; he was about to blow his load.

So, leveraging his weight to strike just the right angle and pushing his thumb in to stifle your moans, Joel sped up and drew even closer, face-to-face, so he could see your every expression from a hair’s breadth away.

He was so near he could hear your dad’s droning voice. See you struggle to take cock the closer you got to your release. You hadn’t cum in such quick succession…ever, really. All but one of the guys you’d let between your legs before seemed like amateurs compared to Joel, and to be honest, you weren’t sure if you could make it to four.

You popped his thumb out of your mouth and mumbled some ‘Sure, okay’ or other to your dad before casting a pleading look up at Joel. His hips were working up to a ruthless pace.

You covered the mouthpiece.

“I can’t, Joel.”

“Sure you can, sugar.”

“Joel,” you hissed, and tried to grab his wrist, when you felt your stomach start to cave. Every exposed inch of skin gave way to waves of heat, and your toes curled in. Worst of all, Joel was letting out sounds you hadn’t ever heard—short, ragged breaths that broke off in low groans—and it felt as though he were cradling your head. Holding you to him. Your eyes were locked on one another, your mouths practically panting in time, and what parts of you had not yet become commingled with him were practically coated with sweat. And shaking.

Then, in tones that rang like music to your ears:

“Alright, I’ll let ya head to bed, then. G’night, pumpkin.”

Your dad hadn’t even fully hung up the phone before you flung it across the car. Heels dug deep in Joel’s back.

“Cum for daddy,” Joel coaxed, “Cum all over this cock.”

You didn’t need much more instigation than that.

You came. He followed.

And it probably split his eardrum in two having his name screamed so fucking loud, but frankly, Joel hadn’t seen a reason for going deaf that he could’ve enjoyed so much.

Then, he didn’t sink so much as simply collapse on top of you while you both kicked back and let the waves of ecstasy roll over you. You adored his warmth in spite of the heat practically suffocating you both in that car.

Until it was in you.

Sticky, sweet dripping inside you.

You pushed Joel hard in the shoulder.

“Did it…”

“What?”

“Joel!”

You flipped your legs down and tapped his abdomen furiously, telling him, pull out, pull out right fucking now, and Joel gently obliged. Dragged his cock three-fourths of the way out when a frail, tattered condom came loose around the head of his cock and almost fell off entirely. That damn prehistoric rubber had broken inside you.

“JOEL!”

“I’m sorry! Fuck, I— fuck.”

Joel scrambled to get his cum-drenched cock and what remained of the condom away from your body, but the damage was done. You started throwing on clothes.

“I’m ovulating this week, I am so fucking fucked!”

Joel swallowed, shimmying his boxers and jeans back into place and scoping the front seat for his shirt.

“What’s…ovulating?”

You wanted to tear your hair out at the root.

There was no way this man had survived half a century on earth and didn’t understand the menstrual cycle.

“It means I can get pregnant if we don’t get a Plan B up in this bitch immediately. Let’s GO!”

That part seemed to click. Joel almost fell over himself trying to find his keys, while you slid out of the Bronco.

“Where are you going?!”

“To— to try and get some of this shit out of me first!”

Joel bounded after you, and within the first steps, you were sprinting across the parking lot. Your sweaty, half-naked companion tried—and failed—to slow you down.

“Are you not on birth control?” Joel huffed.

“Are you not capable of buying condoms more than once every fucking decade—or three?” you snapped.

Your strides were growing wider and more frantic by the second. Joel clutched his side and struggled to keep up.

“I’m…sorry,” he grunted, more embarrassed and worn-out than anything at the moment, “I’m sorry, darlin’.”

“‘Sorry’ doesn’t get your cum out of me, daddy.”

Your words couldn’t have gotten any more caustic or merciless—or inopportune—if you tried.

As it was, you were passing by the breezeway where all the bored lacrosse players were still lounging around, cracking cold ones, and craning their necks to see what the fuss outside was all about. The sounds of your feet racing fast on gravel and you and Joel’s raucous, bickering back-and-forth had caught their attention, and shortly, Connor was sticking his head around the corner. His expression—along with all the faces behind him—had twisted with horror. Confusion. A visible look of disgust.

Joel had just slowed down to catch his breath. He doubled over and braced both hands on his knees.

“I’ll fuckin’…duct tape my dick next time I hit it, honey!” he wheezed, barely loud enough for you to hear but perfectly audible to all the terrified guys around him.

Joel turned his head and almost groaned.

Then he was straightening himself back up, starting to retreat from the group who had him pinned with genuinely frightened—and nauseated—looks.

Joel normally wouldn’t care. This time, though, he threw his hands up and thought, fuck it, I’ll clear the air.

Over his shoulder, he grinned, yelling back to the guys:

“I’m not actually her dad!”

All of them stared back. Half-jealous, half-awestruck, Connor stood up, raised his beer, and called after him:

“I SURE FUCKIN’ HOPE YOU’RE NOT!”

[synvil]

Recording.. // Pornstar! Rafe Cameron x Pornstar! Fem! Reader

a/n: welp, this will be interesting. there’s so many ways this can go but let’s see which one i came up with.

synopsis : getting to work with the famous, most current top rated star in the porn industry was a dream. Let’s see how it turns out for you. pornstar! au!

warnings : explicit content! penetration, choking, cunnilingus, afab!, multiple orgasms, roughness, squirt, etc.

“[Name], thank you for coming. Did you get the email regarding today’s content?”

Shaking hands with the producer, you share a smile and nod, pulling away. “Yes, I read through it. I’m alright with it all.”

“Great, and I take it you’ve already showered and cleaned up before coming? Any questions?”

You nod again to the first part before thinking for a moment and parting your lips to speak. “Actually, I just wasn’t sure who I would be working with today. That wasn’t clear in the email.”

The producer exhales in understanding and hears the door opening, “Actually, we needed confirmation that he was willing to come in today,” and a tall, muscular and toned male steps out, a towel around his neck and in nothing but boxers and some gym shorts. “And there he is. Cameron!”

“Cameron..?”

The male who steps out looks up as he ruffles one end of the towel against his head of hair. “Yeah?” Almost immediately, he locks eyes with you.

Holy shit.

THE Rafe Cameron. The highest rated star in the industry, where every man and woman alike would kill to meet the handsome stud, much more, to work with him.

Must be a fever dream.

When you first auditioned to be part of this industry, Rafe was only beginning to take off.

And now that you were one of the top stars alongside him, Rafe was the highest rated one, and every woman who ever had the chance to work with him, could never be the same.

Thing is, you had no idea what he was like. Was he rude? The pompous kind of asshole? Or was he charismatic and sweet? But if he was, was it just for show?

Many thoughts begin to flood your head until you realize the producer and Rafe have been talking, and now he’s coming over to you, hand extended out.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Y-Yeah, same.” You mentally curse yourself out for your anxiety and shake his hand but even more for the fact that you have yet to make eye contact, still glazing over his dripping wet bare body.

Rafe follows your gaze and gives a small chuckle, a charming smirk following it as he pulls away. “Sorry, thought I’d get a quick shower in before we start our filming.” He explains but you just manage a small nod. “R-right.”

The producer comes over and pats both of your shoulders. “Alright, now that we’ve done introductions, we’ll go over the scene once more with both of you and we’ll get started. Rafe, why don’t you go get dressed and I’ll get [Name] prepped?”

Rafe nods and gives you one more glance, his smirk still shining at you. With a wink, he turns away and takes his leave.

That smirk.. it sends a certain thrilling feel of desire in your stomach and you swallow thickly before attempting to focus your gaze on the producer, who begins to instruct the scenes.

Here you are..

“I can’t believe you!”

You shout as you slam the front door behind you, just for it to open a second later and Rafe coming in. “God, you’re insufferable!”

The current scene was you and Rafe coming home from the bar, celebrating a night of a special occasion, you had gotten a promotion at work.

And now you were rushing inside, having caught your on and off boyfriend of two years, openly flirting with another woman right next to you, once again.

At least that what it looked like to you, but your boyfriend has cheated before, and you weren’t going through it again.

“Would you just listen to me for one second?!”

Rafe’s voice follows after you while you take off your heels and throw it his way. “Don’t fucking talk to me!”

He narrowly dodges the heels thrown at his face before the expensive bag in your hand is also aimed for his head.

“What are you doing?” He asks, catching the bag with a scoff as you retreat to the kitchen.

“Take it back. I don’t want it anymore, we’re done.”

“Done? So you’re just giving all the things i bought you, back?” Rafe looks at you in disbelief as you begin to take off the jewelry on your person and drop it on the counter with a clink.

“I’m done with second chances, you asshole. You can’t just do one nice thing for me, one night.” I curse, slamming my hands down on the countertop as I turn to face him.

Rafe calmly sets the bag down as he stands opposite of you of the counter and sighs softly. “Baby, you’re not thinking straight, just let me explain before you-“

“Before I what? Break up with you for the final time?” You pull off the bracelets until you’re finally free of any jewelry and slide it towards him. “Take it all back.”

This time, Rafe can’t help but curl his lips into an amused smile, as he watches you return everything on you that he had bought for you.

“All of it?”

You tsk and point to the doorway. “The heels are back there.” You remind him though he was obviously aware.

“Alright, everything.. then the dress is included, right?”

. . .

“W-What?-“ Clearly taken back, Rafe’s lips forms a smirk at your clear surprise.

“Last I checked, I bought that stunning black gown you’re wearing tonight.. to celebrate.. remember?”

His words cause you to purse your lips and you’re aware of his slow advances towards you as he rounds the island counter in the kitchen. Rafe doesn’t break eye contact, keeping his eyes trained on you as he does this.

Tensions are high and you know he’s right, but you also know what will happen if you take off the dress.

However, behind the facade, behind the cameras rolling, your inner self is ready to burst. Your cheeks are beginning to flush and you can feel the intensity of his gaze on your body, trailing up and down your figure. Whether or not he was in character was unclear but it still made you wet with arousal at the sight.

Reluctantly, you bring your hands up to the straps, pulling it to the side of your shoulders and down slowly.

Rafe’s eyes hungrily takes in your fully naked form, you weren’t even wearing panties.

Your lack of undergarments weren't part of the script, which you can tell catches Rafe by real surprise momentarily, but it quickly dissipates into a smirk instead.

“No underwear?.. How naughty of you..” he murmurs as he finally makes it to your side and you fight the blush that’s threatening to spread and darken further.

“Shut up-“

Rafe just chuckles at your reaction as his hands sneaks around your bare waist. He looks down from his height with a certain glint in his eyes. “Hey, i’m not complaining..” He says as his head moves to your neck, kissing your collarbone softly. “it's kinda sexy..”

What the hell, I can’t respond.

He’s so hot.. i need to talk.. but im speechless..

My heart is pounding so hard— Relax, [Name], this is all just acting- Rafe Cameron is just acting.

You’re overthinking, stay professional!

But the next thing you knew, Rafe Cameron’s lips were smashing against yours in an intense, heated kiss.

And the faint whimper that escaped your lips wasn’t fake.

Needy hands roam your body everywhere, his lips planted on your neck and kissing every inch of your skin. He raises his head up to your ear and whispers, his breath hot. “You good?” It was quiet and subtle, not loud enough to pick up on the microphone hanging near us.

You nod faintly, and he grins, not waste another second ravishing you.

All the prior anxiety and worries you had faded and you found yourself melting into the kiss, Rafe’s muscular arms lifting you up by the waist and placing you on the counter, the cold touch making you gasp.

That gasp was enough time for him to allow his tongue to slip in, the muscle exploring inside your mouth, making you moan lightly.

Every movement was full of passion, Rafe fondling your breasts, giving each mound a full squeeze. His fingertips pinch your buds, a gentle twist causing you to send a breathy sigh. Your hands find their way to his hair and tangle your fingers in the locks of his dirty blonde locks.

Rafe's low chuckles reaches your ears again as he travels up to nip at your earlobes. His right hand goes down to dip between your thighs, his index finger planting itself right at your clit. He rubs it a few times before whispering, "So wet.. I can't wait to taste your pretty pussy.."

It's almost a growl when he says it, sending rushes of adrenaline through your body and the boost of arousal grows further in you.

The Rafe Cameron gives you one last kiss on the lips before he slowly slides down to his knees, muscular hands grabbing a hold of your thighs tight and firm, and being face to face with your already glistening pussy.

He licks his lips and doesn't hesitate to dive face first, tongue taking a long lick to your folds before going down on you. "O-oh, fuck-" Your eyes flutter shut at the wet sensation, a sharp inhale slipping out.

Holy shit, it felt incredible.

Rafe's tongue moves in circles around your clit a few times before continuously slurping up your juices that leaked from your folds, devouring your pussy like he was starved.

Your hands prop up your body by placing it firmly on the surface under you, but you can't help the hand that goes to tug on his hair and push his face deeper in, which causes him to chuckle deeply, the action creating vibrations through you.

"Oh god, Rafe." You breathily pant, his grip forcing your thighs to remain spread while his tongue prods at your entrance, pushing in and out. "Shit.. you taste incredible.." He mutters as his nose buries itself against your clit. The feeling is enough to send you into overdrive, your head tossing back and a tightening in your stomach makes you cry out.

"R-Rafe, I'm so close-"

Grinding your hips against his face, you illicit a loud mewl of pleasure, your body sending shocks throughout as you tremble from a hard orgasm.

Despite your fluids gushing down his chin, he continues to delve deeper in, overstimulating you, causing your thighs to shake as you cry out again, making him laugh.

“Aw, was it too much for you, sweetheart?” He grins mischievously and you flush, ignoring the way your heart flutters at the nickname as you attempt to catch your breath, watching as he licks his lips and stands up straight, ripping off his button up.

You can feel your mouth going dry at the sight of his toned, chiseled abs, the sweat glistening on his skin but what widened your eyes was the sight of his hardened bulge through his trousers, and you reach for the hem of his pants and pull him close, wrapping your legs around his torso.

Remembering you’re still on camera, you speak, “This doesn’t mean I forgive you.” You mutter, staring into his eyes while your hands palm him softly, working to unzip his zipper. But your words only cause him to flash a smirk as he helps you undo his trousers. “Oh don’t worry, sweetheart, by the time i’m done with you, you’ll forget about tonight.”

Crashing his lips with yours, you grunt but let him pull you even more towards the edge before pulling you down to the ground, his hands pulling the waistband of his pants and boxers down.

He strokes himself a few times, your eyes unable to help itself to the sight and you swallow thickly.

“Something wrong, baby?” He hums in amusement and you turn away a bit bashfully. “Not at all.”

Turning you around so you faced away from him, he breaks into a smirk as he wraps his arm around to give you a hand necklace, your throat firm in his grasp. Lining himself up at your entrance, he leans in close and speaks lowly. “Good, because I don’t intend to stop.”

Without warning, he inserts his length inside and you cry out a noise of pleasure. Your back at arches and he tightens his grip on your throat, but not enough to hurt you. “Heh, shit, you’re so fucking tight..” It almost seemed like it was actually Rafe saying this to you, instead of his character, but you didn’t have much time to think about it after as he begins to thrust into you from behind.

“F-Fuck-!”

One hand goes up to grab ahold of his arm that was holding your neck, and the other holds onto the counter for support. Every hard thrust causes your breasts to bounce as you two move in sync, Rafe doing deep but slow thrusts. His other hand is firming holding your waist but it travels up to grope your right breast, squeezing it hard.

Strings of moans are filling the room, and you momentarily forget the audience and cameras on you as all you can focus on is Rafe’s cock penetrating you hard.

He’s so deep.. i-i can’t think straight- it’s too much..

i’m so close- no wonder he’s so popular..

Rafe pulls away from your neck to use both hands to hold your hips firmly, his own picking up the pace as he begins to fuck you fast, the wet juices squelching each time your skin makes contact.

His hand goes down and his finger flicks your clit and it’s starting to send you over the edge. “Rafe..” Whimpers escape you as you dip your head down, clenching your fists on the countertop tightly.

“R-Rafe, fuck, you’re so deep.. i-i’m gonna cum-“

Rafe just smirks as he rubs your clit further, continuously thrusting you harder and faster until he feels a gush over your release and he pulls out, watching as your pretty glistening pussy squirts all over the floor.

“Fuck.” He bites his lip at the sight as he feels his own building up, and he spins you around while you’re panting. “Get on your knees,”

You fall to your knees to his command, and watch as he strokes himself fast and seconds later, his cum spurts its white salty liquid over your face, painting it like a canvas.

He pants heavily, catching his breath while you do the same, eyes fluttered shut at the warm liquid drips down.

“And cut! That was great, now get cleaned up you two!”

“You alright, [Name]?”

Still on the ground, you barely register a voice is talking to you while you appear dazed and confused.

Rafe has some skin-sensitive wipes in his hands, gently rubbing your face to wipe off any of his fluids before carefully helping you to your feet. “Did I go too rough on you?”

“I’m alright, thanks..” You whisper, feeling the exhaustion take over you. You lean onto Rafe, who holds you securely against his chest. “If it’s any consolation, today was fuckin’ amazing..” He chuckles lightly as he presses a tender kiss to your temple before guiding you to the couch where you can rest for a bit.

“Yeah?.. I think i understand why so many women gush over you after working with you.” You giggle weakly, sending an appreciative look when he sets you down gently, placing a blanket over you. He also chuckles lightly. “Yeah, but I think i’d like to work with you again, sometime soon. Maybe we can talk about our next filming together over dinner?”

Your stomach feels as though butterflies are doing flips inside you at the assumption of his words. “Are you asking me out, Rafe Cameron?”

Rafe merely shares a wink before pecking your forehead and getting up. “I’ll let you figure that out. Meanwhile, I’ll head to your room and draw you a bath to clean up.”

He takes your hand to press a soft kiss to the back of it before smiling your way and then turning to leave. Maybe he wasn’t acting the whole time.

“.. Rafe Cameron just asked me out..”

Best filming job ever.

a/n: hello all, hope you enjoyed! :) merry christmas. i shall have the first post of my camgirl series out soon!! <3

i’m sorry if this seems like such a rushed abrupt ending but i wanted to finish this in time for christmas :)

pt. 2 with JJ Maybank !!

[rbfclassy]

SLEEPING BEAUTY! — SUGURU GETO

somnophiliac!getowho loves watching his baby sleep so peacefully whenever he come back late from work. The blankets are hanging halfway off your body, exposing your hard nipples through your tank top. The shorts you have on barely covering your ass. Suguru takes a step forward and kneels down, inhaling your scent before placing a kiss on your shoulder. One kiss turns to three, then five, and before you know it, he’s kissing down your stomach. You just look so pretty, so relaxed, he can’t help himself when it comes to you. His hands squeeze at your tits, running his thumb over your head nipples before his lifting your shirt just enough to see them. His cock hardens, eyes scanning over your figure from above as heat courses through his veins. Not even thirty seconds goes by and he’s in between your legs, your shorts and panties discarded on the floor as he licks between your folds, sucking on your clit. He moans at the way you taste on his tongue, eyes staring at you while he waits for the moment you wake up and he can hear your pretty whimpers. He inserts two fingers inside you, sliding in with ease, reaching your g-spot. “Taste so good, baby. Ah, my beautiful fucking girl.” He places soft kisses on your swollen clit. He chuckles lightly when you start to squirm, brows furrowed.

He knows you’re having a wet dream right now from how wet you are, soaking his fingers. He pumps his fingers faster, stroking your g-spot each time as his tongue circles around your clit. He’s devouring like his last meal, eager to make you cum. “Sugu—ah!” You whimper, tiredly. He stares up at your half lidded eyes, a smirk forming on his face. “Baby, wh-what are you—oh fuck,” you pant, hands instinctively gripping on his hair. He doesn’t plan on stopping, knowing you’re so close to cumming on his tongue. “Hi, sweetheart,” he mumbles. Your eyes roll back at the overwhelming pleasure, your body felt like it was on fire. “Didn’t mean to wake you, but you looked too good to resist,” he kisses down your thighs before diving right back in, the flat of his tongue running up your clit as his fingers curl inside you.

You’re so extremely sensitive and turned on, your orgasm approaches faster than you anticipated. The feeling comes on fast, like a rush of waves as you brain can do nothing but focus on the way he’s eating your pussy. “Just like that, baby. Fuck! You’re gonna make me cum!” You cry out, pushing his head down. Your legs began to shake as he sucks on your clit and the coil finally snaps. “Ohhhh fuck!” You grip on his hair tightly. “Oh my god! Yes! Yes!” Your eyes roll back as you bask in the pleasure of your orgasm, jaw going slack, back arching off of the sheets. Suguru licks up every last drop, even from his fingers. You lay there, trying to catch your breath until you hear his belt buckle being undone.

“We’re not done just yet, sweetheart.”

[naughtyjjk]

testing nanami kento’s self-control

characters: nanami x fem reader warnings: 18+, smut, riding, cock tease, edging, orgasm denial, begging, creampie notes: it's just so hot to see a man who's always composed start to break down hehe

whenever nanami comes home, his suit and tie are always in pristine condition, even after a long day of work. there’s never a strand of hair out of place or a speck of dust to be found anywhere. that’s just how he is—precise and focused and meticulous, almost to a fault.

even when you’re undressing him, kissing him, bringing your bodies together, he still manages to be so put together that it’s honestly a little frustrating. it makes you want to tease him to the point of torture and go slow enough that he falls apart. so slow that he begs.

you want to see him lose control. you want to ruin him.

pushing nanami down on the bed, you climb on top of him and grab the lube, slicking his cock with a few strokes. he’s already so hard, flushed red and throbbing in your grasp, desperate for more. when he bucks his hips to try and fuck himself in your fist, you let go completely and tsk at him.

“don’t move,” you say, coaxing him. “let me take care of you today.”

sighing, nanami lies back down, hips going still. you shift yourself so that your pussy is lined up with his cock, using a hand to brush the tip against your folds, never going further than that. this goes on for agonizingly long as you tease the both of you, feeling his hard cockhead poking at your entrance.

you push down a little, applying the slightest of pressure, and hold it there until you hear nanami groan, his cock twitching with arousal. he’s looking at you with lidded eyes, expression dark and hungry. “darling…”

but you only grin and move again, this time almost allowing his cock to slip inside you. almost. so close, but not quite there. you drag the head past your entrance, dipping barely inside, before you lift your hips again. nanami’s breath hitches, chest heaving. he swallows thickly, arms tense by his side, fighting against his instincts to keep himself still.

“ah—f-fuck—”

leaning forward to kiss him, you catch his bottom lip and flick your tongue over it. meanwhile, you spread your legs a bit wider and finally, finally sink down so that the very tip nudges inside you. only the tip. nanami is moaning your name in broken pieces, mixed in with a few curses and whimpers.

then you stop. again.

nanami groans in frustration and his hips jerk up involuntarily, but you were expecting it. you move with him, keeping just the tip of his cock in you, maintaining the position and refusing to let him go any deeper.

“wh-what did i do to deserve this teasing?” nanami asks, looking like he’s about to lose it.

you lick your lips and reply honestly, “you’re always so composed, kento. i want to make you desperate for it, see you completely wrecked for me.”

for a few more seconds, you stay in the same position, unmoving. the stretch of his cock is nice; he’s hardly even really inside you yet, but your pussy is already adjusting to his size, opening up for him. it’s so tempting to take all of him like you’ve done many times in the past, to ride him and bring him straight to the edge. but no. not yet. you have a plan to follow through.

lowering your hips just the slightest, you sink down further, taking more of his cockhead until the crown is almost fully inside. you can feel him throbbing against your walls, wanting more but never getting it.

nanami lets out a broken moan, breath stuttering. “you’re being cruel. how long are you going to make me wait?”

“that,” you say, “depends on how long you can hold out.”

as if to punish him, you raise your hips again, smiling wickedly as you pull away until all of him is resting outside your entrance again. it’s hard for you, too; you miss the feeling of having him inside. but you remind yourself that you’re going slow, as slow as you possibly can. slow so that you can watch nanami break.

nanami groans, low and needy. his hands clench and unclench the bedsheets by his sides. “fuck.”

without warning, you drop down again suddenly, less than an inch just so that you have the tip of his cock in you again. nanami gasps, throwing his head back against the pillow. you take in all the sensations: the messy feeling of lube and precum, the way nanami’s hard cock twitches with desire. how he’s struggling and using every ounce of his willpower to not buck up and thrust into you.

“good boy,” you lean in to whisper right by nanami’s ear, watching with delight as he shudders in response. he’s breathing hard, every muscle in his body tensed up.

you keep him there inside you for what seems like forever. every tiny shift of movement is agonizing and extra sensitive, sending waves of pleasure from where you two connect to the rest of your body. you can tell that nanami also feels it, by the way he’s losing control more and more with each passing second.

and that’s exactly what you want. it’s working. you’re going to break him down piece by piece until he’s nothing but a shaking, writhing, horny mess beneath you.

it’s such a fucking turn on to see nanami’s self-control slipping, breaths growing ragged, waiting in anticipation for whatever you’re willing to give him next. it’s getting hard for you to hold back as well. you let just a tiny bit more of nanami’s cock into your pussy so that all of the head is nestled inside and then you start the shallowest, most torturously slow rhythm you’ve ever done in your life. hardly moving at all, the most miniscule rolls of your hips to take only the tip of his cock over and over again.

up… and down…

up… and down…

“o-oh god,” nanami curses, and he can’t help rocking his hips to follow your rhythm, matching your pace. he knows better now than to try for anything more, knows that you could take it all away from him at any moment.

each time his cock nudges its way back inside you, your pussy clenches around him. tight, like it doesn’t want to let him go. and nanami moans, feeling your walls clamp down on his cock, wishing that he could feel your warmth along the rest of his neglected shaft, too.

he looks delirious now, so fucking aroused with his mouth parted and his eyes hazy and unfocused. his cock throbs and pulses inside you, making him dizzy with pleasure. the shallow thrusts are getting to him, slowly but surely, the sensation building up in tingling layers, bringing him closer to the edge.

honestly, you’re teasing yourself as just much as you’re teasing nanami. with only short strokes of his cock that barely manage to penetrate you, you feel empty, craving for him to hit your deepest parts. on one hand, it’s so fucking hot to drag it out like this, so arousing to see nanami at your mercy. on the other hand, you’re reaching your limit, too.

“beg,” you say. “tell me how badly you need it. let me hear you beg, kento.”

there seems to be an internal battle going on within nanami as he grits his teeth, trying to resist. but it’s futile; you simply keep moving your hips in that slow, steady rhythm until it becomes unbearable and nanami gives in embarrassingly fast, mind clouded with lust.

“hah—p-please, i can’t—fuck, please—”

“mm,” you consider his words. “please what?”

nanami chokes out a moan. “i wanna fuck you—ah, please, your pussy—” he looks at his aching cock, the precum spilling down the sides, the way his cockhead disappears into you. “let me come—i-i need—” then he gasps, “oh shit—”

it’s beyond arousing to hear him like this. in that moment, you don’t let him finish his sentence as something snaps within you and you give in to your own desires. your hips slam down on him without warning, burying all of his cock inside you in a single, rapid movement.

an intense wave of pleasure rushes through both of you, every nerve ending igniting at once. you moan, overwhelmed. you’re filled so deep and so fast that it takes a second for you to return to your senses. and nanami—fuck, the sound he makes, low and guttural, a stuttering, broken moan that should be illegal. his abdomen clenches, thighs shaking. it’s only one full thrust, but you can tell that he almost came right then and there.

“fuck.” his voice sounds destroyed, fucked out. chest heaving, he wants so badly to buck his hips into you until he’s spilling his release into you. it won’t take much more to get him there. but he very carefully doesn’t move, still following your orders, still being good.

“k-kento,” you whine, staying there, the sensation of his cock pulsing and splitting you open driving you dangerously close to orgasm as well. you don’t dare to move until the pleasure simmers down into something more manageable, until you’re sure that you’ve fallen away from the edge.

that’s when you draw your hips up again. still going slow, so fucking slow that it almost breaks you—but it breaks nanami too, and that’s what you’re aiming for.

by this point, nanami’s composure has completely crumbled. he’s resigned himself to the torture as you restart the aching, brutally slow thrusts. the tip of his cock dips into you, as far as the crown of his cockhead, and then pulls out almost all the way. again and again and again.

you’re dripping wet, the teasing against your pussy reaching an unbearable degree. there’s nothing you want more than to take nanami fast and deep, to feel him hitting your most sensitive spots instead of just playing with the entrance. but you almost have nanami where you want him and you’re betting on him to give in first.

“please—ah, m-more—” nanami cries out, breathy and horny and frustrated, trembling from the effort of holding himself back.

you keep the same pace, not giving him what he wants. keeping him just on the edge of satisfaction, waiting him out. and it’s infinitely worse now that you’ve both had a taste of what you could be getting instead.

your hips move up. then down.

then up again.

the crown of his cockhead catches and releases from your pussy, delicious friction causing your head to spin. nanami’s neck is arched, looking at you with narrow eyes, aroused beyond his limits.

“f-fuck, fuck,” he rambles nonsensically, body so tense. “please—let me—i’m—i need—let me inside you—i c-can’t take it anymore—”

“just a little longer,” you tell him, and nanami groans. “you can hold out for a few more minutes, can’t you? be a good boy for me.”

those words make a desperate, wrecked sound escape from his lips and his self-control is slipping, slipping, slipping. he’s turning wild under you now, squirming, writhing, frenzied and starved for his release. your own willpower is dissolving at the sight of nanami’s desperation.

your hips descend on his cock again, clenching tight around the tip. nanami sucks in a sharp breath.

up, agonizingly slow, leaving him throbbing at the loss of contact. this time, you let out a moan, feeling so empty. god, it’s not enough for you either, not nearly fucking enough.

“need you—n-need to feel you,” nanami pleads, whimpering, chanting your name over and over. “please, please, i’m close—fuck, i’m so—”

he’s panting, cock twitching madly, and this —this is exactly what you had been waiting for the whole time: nanami completely ruined, nanami undone by your actions, nanami looking at you with pure hunger and lust, overtaken by arousal. he seems to be right on the edge of pleasure, so close to tipping over, body burning with an orgasm held at bay. you’re sure that when you finally allow him to come, it’ll be ecstasy like he’s never felt before, coming harder than he ever has in his life.

and that’s the end of your limits. you can’t deny either of you any longer.

you slam your hips down all at once, plunging nanami’s hard, aching cock inside you.

“ah—!”

“f-fuuuck—”   

nanami moans, loud and guttural and absolutely wrecked. it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard. his cock splits you open, so hard and thick, and you fall forward on his chest as your pussy spasms around him.

the sensation is entirely overwhelming, your mind going blank, pleasure jolting along your nerves tenfold, having built up by the teasing and denial.

“o-oh god,” nanami pants. he bends his knees to drive his cock even deeper inside you, and the change in angle makes you fucking delirious. “good, so good—”

you’re all out of patience. there’s no more waiting, no more drawing this out.

looking at nanami, you say, “kento. take what you need. make yourself come.” you swirl your hips in a circular motion, feeling his cock hitting every corner inside you, and both of you moan at the same time. “fuck me.”

something sparks in nanami’s eyes, washed over by a fresh wave of arousal. before you know it, he’s flipped the two of you over so that you’re now lying on your back and he’s propped up above you. his eyes stare into yours, so intense, and that’s when you know: he’s going to devour you.

with a growl, nanami begins to move, pulling out his cock just enough to shove it back into you. hard and fast and so, so fucking deep. your mouth parts but no sound comes out. you can’t think straight; your pussy feels so full, stretched tight around his aching cock.

“kento—kento—”

but nanami isn’t listening to you anymore. he’s so wound up, so fucking turned on beyond reason, that he can’t hold back anymore. he starts thrusting wildly and unrestrained using short, quick rolls of his hips to drive his cock into you. each inch that enters you burns with pleasure and the room fills with the filthy sounds of your moans, of nanami pounding his cock into you again and again.

“this is payback,” he says, voice low and raspy. it makes you shudder to think about what he has in store for you. “i'm gonna—hah—gonna fuck you until you scream. fill you up with my come. shit, and i won’t stop until you’re coming on my cock like the naughty fucking girl you are.”

nanami’s hips are stuttering but his pace never falters. his next thrust hits that sweet spot inside you, making you arch off the bed and gasp, sparks of pleasure dancing along your spine. and now that nanami has found it, he aims there every time, knowing how sensitive it is, how it brings you that much closer to the edge.

moaning, it’s all you can to do keep up with the brutal thrusts. your stomach coils, orgasm building and building, threatening to take over your body. it feels so fucking good. nanami’s cock is pushing deep inside you, hard and fast, pulsing against your walls, stretching you open. he uses a hand to find your clit, rubbing tight circles around the swollen nub, and you cry out, hips bucking up to chase the sensation, clenching around his cock on instinct.

“oh—fuck, k-kento, i'm—i'm coming—”

the pleasure crests and your arousal spikes. you know that you won’t be able to endure it for much longer. and nanami is right there with you, thrusts turning erratic and desperate.

“m-me too,” he says, grunting. “come. don’t hold back. come for me, baby.”

one, two more thrusts and you’re moaning his name, body convulsing in waves. nanami fucks you through it, sending aftershocks to your nerves, and then he’s coming too, releasing everything that’s built up inside of him in spurts. he’s loud when he comes, mouth next to your ear; louder than you’ve ever heard him, riled up by all the teasing. his cock twitches inside you and his hips slow, eventually go still.

god, it’s so damn hot that it almost makes you want to fuck him all over again.

for a moment, both of you lie there, catching your breaths. then nanami pulls out slowly, careful not to overstimulate you. he holds you like that and you melt in his arms, all the strength leaving your body.

“next time,” nanami says, sounding defeated, “you’re going to be the one begging for it.”

.

tag list: @megumisdivinedogs @urlilwhore @l0rdgeosupport3rr @purple-obsidian @l0rdgeosupport3rr @minni-creations @fos-tis-zois @the-reas0n-is-y0u @cantfeelherface @rxmbzzz @lysaray @zelzablues @str4wbrrycandy @that-goth-bisexual @simping4u @iminlovewqr0w @sharks31 @pseudowho @jisoonunn @outkasti @anathemaspeaks @fushigur0slut4 @barryatsumu

(comment to be added/removed)

[lowkeyren]

reverse dating tropes w hsr men!

in which — what the title suggests / those classic fanfic tropes but with a twist

featuring — boothill, jing yuan, blade (separately) x gn!reader

✧.* — wc: total 1.5k, used up half my brain for this (the other half is for pt2 w aven sunday geppie!!), lovesick boothill + clingy jy + jealous blade fr, anyway pls enjoy! reblogs r appreciated <3

gepard aven sunday vers here!

boothill ꩜ .ᐟ

love at many sights with boothill whose memory card was tinkered with, and every time you meet, he thinks he's seeing you for the first time, so he falls for you over and over again. 

when boothill returned from a dangerous mission, it was evident that he had endured significant damage. his once sleek and polished exterior was now marred by dents and scratches, and his mechanical limbs were either partially missing or severely damaged. the exposed wiring, usually neatly tucked away beneath scraps of metals, now hung in tangled strands, sparking occasionally with residual energy.

he looked barely salvageable. it's safe to say that the mechanics had a hell of a time fixing him.

though they were skilled enough to piece him back together, his memory card wasn’t as lucky. a tinkering in his system left him incapable of recalling or retaining information in his synthetic brain, temporarily —leaving the mechanics scrambling to find a solution.

weeks later, you find yourself walking down the familiar corridors of the laboratory where your favourite cyborg is being held for reparation.

boothill’s eyes immediately land on yours when you enter the lab. “well ain’t this a surprise! haven’t seen ya in a good long while.” boothill drawls, tipping his hat your way, his voice carrying a metallic twang. 

"i heard you took a bit of a tumble, figured someone should come make sure you didn’t lose all your screws." you shrug nonchalantly, a smirk playing on your lips.

boothill's eyes flicker for a moment, taking in the curve forming on your lips. he thinks you’re adorable with that infectious smile of yours. 

“heh, nothin’ bad, just had a r-r-run in with some cuties" he says, failing to hide the glitch that caused his voice to stutter. (and that damn synesthesia beacon! he swears he’ll get it fixed this time around…)

“guess you took more than a tumble huh...” you lean casually against the workbench, the sterile scent of machinery and the hum of various devices filled the air; your gaze sweeps over the freshly repaired parts of boothill's metallic frame, “anyway, glad to see that you’re mostly fine now." 

“aww! do ya care ‘bout me?” he teases, his grin widening, revealing his pointy teeth peeking out mischievously. you don’t reply, your eyes glinting with the faintest hint of amusement dancing in them.

"boothill, we go through this every time, your memory card's still damaged. you forget things sometimes, so for the 5th time this week, yes i do care about you.”

boothill's expression shifts, a mixture of realization and sheepishness crossing his features. "right, right," he murmurs, scratching the back of his head with his metallic hand. "sorry 'bout that, sugar. guess i just keep forgettin'."

you chuckle and shake your head, finding the situation amusing. he feels like he might overheat from the sheer warmth radiating from your smile.

“you’re beautiful, date me.” (he didn’t mean to blurt that outloud)

you raise your eyebrows at the sudden compliment, “why thank you,” a surprised laugh escapes your lips.

“—and we’re already dating, silly.”

a shower of sparks erupts from his circuits, you can particularly hear the fans inside him sputter and whir. you rush to his side, concern etched on your face.

“wh- are you okay?! you’re short circuiting again!”

and this happens every time his memory lapses. you offer an apology to the mechanic on the next shift for the extra work required to fix yet another damaged wire after your visits. perhaps they should ban you from getting too close to boothill, lest he completely breaks down again like that one time where you told him, yes you actually kissed before.

jing yuan ୭ ˚.

"secret relationship" with jing yuan but he is completely unaware of how his public displays of affection towards you keep revealing the supposed secrecy of your relationship.

on the rare case that the general is found in his office, you are there too, beside him.

“pleeeease? just one kiss, really really miss you, darling”

“no jing yuan, not now…”

he wraps his arms around you as he leans in, caging you from the back. he rests his chin on your shoulder, “then how about a kiss on the cheeks?” he murmurs in your ear. you try to push him away, but he just chuckles softly against your neck, his arms still secure around you.

“no, and get off me before someone sees!” you protest, feeling your face flush from the close proximity, and the tightening of his arms suggests that he has no intention of releasing you just yet.

this stubborn man… you swear you’re gonna burst a blood vessel someday.

as if to echo your exasperation; he nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, peppering it with nibbles and gentle kisses. jing yuan certainly knows how to test your limits, yet his affectionate gestures never fail to chip away at your resolve.

suddenly, a series of loud knocks come from the door, you freeze, and immediately attempt to wiggle your way out of his grasp. but he remains unfazed, his hold on you firm, and seemingly unbothered by the interruption.

the door bursts open, “general! there’s a situation at starskiff ha—ven...”  yanqing trails off as his eyes widen at your position. the room falls into a momentary silence as yanqing's gaze shifts between you and his general, his expression reflecting a blend of shock and embarrassment.

clearing his throat awkwardly, yanqing stammers, "i-im sorry for interrupting... i’ll t-take my leave now!” with a hurried nod, he practically sprints out of the room.

oh bless that kid’s poor eyes… 

you shoot a glare at jing yuan from the corner of your eyes, you just know that he has a shit eating grin on his face right now. nowadays, it’s probably common knowledge that the general’s most treasured person is you, evidently shown by how he latches himself onto you every time you’re within his vicinity. you wouldn’t be surprised if the entirety of xianzhou knows about your supposed “secret” relationship.

“so… can i have my kiss now?” 

aeons, he’s insufferable. (you love him tho!!!!!)

blade ؛ ଓ

"fake dating" with blade but you are actually dating —somehow everyone is convinced you aren't.

“blink twice if you need help.” march whispers-shout; dan heng leans against the doorway, blocking the way into your room, nods in agreement.

“this is absurd… i’m alright guys, really!” you try to reassure your friends, frustration edging into your voice. though no matter how many times you insist that no blade isn't holding you hostage and that you are indeed in a relationship with him, they seem convinced otherwise, somehow deducing that you're not able to speak freely.

you sigh in resignation, knowing that they aren’t going to relent anytime soon, and with blade idling in your room, you can't afford to keep him waiting any longer. “dan heng please, let me through, he’s been waiting for me for the past 10 minutes now…”

“good, let him wait.” dan heng responds curtly. (what a guy)

march takes hold of your hands, “do you owe the stellaron hunters something, and him out of everyone?! he looks scary…and totally not your type!” 

“not their type?” a low voice rings out from behind dan heng, the three of you turn immediately and see blade looming at your doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. 

“stellaron hunter. stay back.” dan heng furrows his eyebrows, his stance defensive as he pulls out his weapon, positioning himself to block you and march. sensing the growing tension, you step forward, reaching out to gently grasp at dan heng’s shoulder. 

(blade’s expression darkens at your hand resting on him)

“it’s okay dan heng, he means no harm.” dan heng hesitates, his grip on his weapon remains tight, but he doesn't move to strike. so you slowly move between him and blade, “see? i’m fine… he’s not gonna hurt me.” you smile reassuringly at your friends. 

just then, as if to further aggravate dan heng, blade settles his hand on your waist. dan heng’s hand is visibly twitching now. “what? can’t i touch what’s mine?”

dan heng’s eyes narrow, “...we still don’t believe you, leave now. before it’s too late.”

before you can interject, blade grabs your chin, silencing any words of protest with a sudden kiss. caught off guard, your eyes widen as the unexpected gesture leaves you momentarily stunned. but you soon reciprocate his kiss, his intensity drawing you in.

(march quickly covers her eyes with her hands)

“there. now leave us alone.” and with that, he pulls you into your room, slamming the door shut behind, pinning you against it. 

it’s just the both of you now, finally.

“did you really have to touch him.” his voice tinged with possessiveness. “blade, he would’ve hurt you, i didn’t mean—” he shuts you up with another kiss, more desperate this time, welp guess you’re stuck with him for the night.

though your friends might not believe that a person like you would “be in cahoots” with someone as dangerous as him; convincing them otherwise is a task for another time. tonight, he wants your attention focused solely on him, and him only.

✧.*

masterlist gepard aven sunday vers here!

[chxrryhansen]

okay but rafe shamelessly peeking up your skirt is something so personal to me

omg omg wait s1 golf frat boy rafe x cutesy kinda bimbo reader??? COUNT ME IN. p.s- i have no idea how to play golf so i wrote my best interpretation😭

₊♡₊˚ 🎀・₊✧

you sat in rafes private golf caddy watching as he lined up his next shot, his backwards cap keeping his hair out of his eyes and his muscular legs spread wide as he takes the shot.

rafe had asked (told) you to come watch him play, he thought it would be a cute date idea for you both to get out of the house since it was way too hot to stay cooped up inside all day… when in reality he just wanted to show off his skills and impress his girl.

“rafeeeeey.” you whined in a high pitch tone.

he turns to look back at you with a sour expression, wiping the sweat from his brows with one arm, using the other to lean against his golf club. “quit distracting me. what dya’ want?” he pants in the summer heat.

“i’m boreddddd” you moan again, standing from your seat in the cabby and bouncing over to him.

his free hand reaches out to grip your face, smushing your cheeks together tight “what’ve i told you about the whining? daddy’s tryna’ play a game here, sweetcheeks.”

you look up at him with big puppy dog eyes “can you teach me? please rafey…i’m so bored just sittin’ here, daddy please.”

he lets out an irritated groan, knowing you were too ditzy to understand how golf works and way too uncoordinated to actually putt a ball. he looks back at you giving you a once over, a smirk appearing on his face.

“you know what? sure pretty girl, c’mere.”

you yelp with excitement, moving to stand infront of him, your short pink skirt barely reaching your thighs as you bounce over and your tits jiggling, practically spilling out of your tight shirt.

rafe stands behind you as he passes you the golf club, quickly showing you the correct way to hold it before he moves onto your position. kicking your feet apart and pressing down on your back with his thick fingers, forcing you to arch your back as he bites his lip, his cock already growing hard.

“that’s it baby, stay just like that. now, lift your arm up like this, and strike.” you beam at him while he instructs you before focusing on the ball.

you raise your arm holding the club tight before you strike it. not even noticing rafe bending down slightly, his legs still spread wide around your figure and his fingers lifting your short skirt, peeking at your cute, pink panties underneath, he lets out a low “fuckkk.” at the sight, not loud enough for you to notice seeming as you were concentrating.

“rafey! look! i hit it. look how far it went!” you gasp, raising one arm to block the sun as you search for the ball with your eyes.

“yeah babe, daddy’s super proud of you.” he mutters, not paying attention to a word you said, instead focusing on the slightly damp patch on your panties.

he brings his thumb to your pussy, rubbing over the soaked material. your panties beginning to stick to your cunt as he thumbs your sensitive slit.

you whimper in surprise, your head spinning to look at him in shock. “daddy! wh-what are you doing?!” you hush, eyes wide, looking around quickly to see if anybody had noticed what he was doing, which they hadn’t… yet.

rafe hushes you before pulling your skirt back down and giving your ass a harsh smack. lifting up from his bent knees and looking down at you with a large smirk.

“nice panties, baby. where’d you get em?” he asks rhetorically, a sly smile appearing on his face.

knowing for a fine fact he bought them, as he does everything else, your clothes, food, shoes. you name it, he bought it. because that’s what wealthy daddy’s like him do. and rafe is without question, wholeheartedly, your daddy.

[7hursday]

cw slight sòmno . consensual non consēnt . breeding kínk

laying in bed with suguru geto is an act anyone would deem intimate and romantic; the way his arm is lazily draped over your waist, his chest pressed against your back, and his lips just ghosting the nape of your neck… it’s all so peaceful.

if you ignore the fact that his cock is still plunged inside of you, a mix of both your and his cum, dried and painting your inner thighs.

he can’t help it— when his hands trail upwards and tease your nipples, twisting and pulling them gently in between his index and thumb as he feels it begin to harden under his skin.

suguru’s cock barely wastes any time, springing back to life while still inside of you. he feels the soft, almost subtle flutter of your gummy walls around his length as it stretches and stretches your cunt.

his eyes blink open fully as the first rays of sunlight peeks in through the small gaps in the curtains; those same eyes zeroing in on what’s happening below, and he can’t help the smile that tugs onto the corners his mouth.

he places his hand on your hip before patting it gently, whispering softly into your ear as he tentatively rolls his hips. “wake up, baby.”

suguru drills his cock in and out of you a tad bit faster when you hum, a confirmation that you’re away, eyes blinking groggily. “s— ‘guru? wh— ah!”

his smile morphs into an almost feral grin as his hand hooks under your thigh from behind, lifting it up to get better access. “much — ngh, fuck — better, baby. can feel you squeezing around me from this angle more.”

his pace is much faster now; cockhead bullying your cervix with each thrust as he panted and whined into your ear. everything sounded so lewd — skin slapping skin, the wet noises your pussy sputtered every time he thrusted into you, his desperate noises into your ear… you can’t help but clamp down onto him tighter.

mauve eyes practically rush to the back of his head, his hips slamming against you harder as his balls tightened and throbbed. “‘m g—ah, gonna make you a mommy,” he moaned, letting go of your leg and using his hand to rub messy circles on your puffy clit instead. “g’na put a fuckin’ baby in you— breed you, fill you up with my cum—“

thick, generous ribbons of his cum shoot straight into your womb, his hips still rolling against your ass as you milk his cock. “fuuuuuuuck, yeah, just like that. keep, ah, squeezin’ around my cock like that.”

after a while of catching your breath and trying to kick the blankets off you due to the sheen layer of sweat coating your bodies, suguru decides to thrust into you one last time — hard and deep.

“good morning, baby. how’d you sleep?”

a/n: suguru focused because i love him. <3

[tonycries]

CHERRY-POP!

Synopsis. He’s losing more than his v!rginíty - he’s losing his mind.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, vírgínity loss (JJK men), PÚSSYDRÚNK MEN, first times, p talking, proposals, cervíx kíssing, matíng presses, GOJO’S POWERS, manhandIing (Nanami), overstím, rough, true form Sukuna, dp, making them whímper, spítting, chokíng, p sIapping, mentions of heirs, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. Y’all asked and aIpha provided hehehe, also Ino girlies y’all are FED today <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Was a 10/10

“I-I’m really…damn. Damn.” Just about all that he can gasp. Toji’s prominent Adam’s apple bobs at the sheer tremors lacing his baritone voice, on the edge of shattering into a million pieces. He’s dragging a fat thumb where your teary slit was bulging. In awe. “Damn.”

And your honeyed giggles are enough to make him buck his rummaging length with a shuddering groan. Pumping you full of more solid, mindless inches. “S’that all you can hah- say, Toji?” 

Hell, if Toji Fushiguro could coherently speak - if he could even think - then he’d already be waxing poetic about how your that sweltering hot heaven between your legs was driving him mad. Was having his life flashing before his very eyes-

How had he lived for so long without this?

You’re letting out a tiny gasp - only too-late does Toji’s melty mind realize that he’d pathetically babbled all that out loud. 

Taking the lewd opportunity to punish your parted lips with a slow wad of his syrupy saliva, “D-doesn’t mean I don’t know a thing or two…”

God, if Toji hadn’t confessed to you just prior that he was a raging virgin then you would have laughed in his face right this very second. 

Because he was acting like anything but.

His rock-hard cock was vicious, bullying right between your pretty pursed folds with inch after throbbing inch that scratches your sweet spots just right. Fuck- he couldn’t take his eyes off the sight. Slamming a hand down onto the rickety headboard to stop from jackhammering his fat cock over and over into you already.

“Y-you’re seriously…” he’s letting his voice peter out. Toji’s curling a few thick fingers around his hefty hilt, feeding your drooling hole more. More. “-seriously sucking th-the life outta me.”

He’s moving at such a sleazy pace, tracing one calloused thumb down your driveling lips, all soaked and sopping with your saturated juices. “Heh, not bad for a f-fucking virgin, huh?” Before popping it into your mouth for you to suck on like your favorite lolly. “C’mon- say somethin’, ma.”

“S-so slow, Toji-” you’re huffing and puffing in a way that makes him grunt, trembly legs falling further and further open by the second at the stretch. The way his large, bulbous tip was brushing against your very inner walls had you dizzy. “-give me more.”

“Wh-when I told ya to talk it wasn’t to talk with your hah- damn pussy, woman.”

And fuck.

Fuuuuck- Toji was more affected than he would like to admit. 

Much, much more. 

Because just the incoherent mess of jumbles falling from those pretty lips of yours had him throwing his head back with a moan. Big, beefy biceps flexing when he’s battering his rock-hard tip into your gooey depths. And shit-

He didn’t read about this online. 

Never ever thought that the Toji Fushiguro would find his mean scar dropping with his jaw in raw, carnal shock when your pussy lips dribble a generous load of his own cum. Eyes veering to the very back of his head with he just barely manages to disguise as a regular one of his eyerolls. 

Fuck- fuck did he cum already?

“D-did you-”

“Shut up. Holy shit-” A set of rugged fingers clasp bruisingly around your waist, another skating about midway up your tummy and pressing. Down hard. Now until your slobbering cunt was painting numerous creamy rings upon rings around Toji’s hefty hilt. “Damn, what a pussy you got on ya. Is yer cunt jus’ extra filthy, ma?”

You’re smacking his cushiony pecs at his words, whining, “Y-you’re so nasty–”

“Me?” His greedy green eyes widen, “Callin’ me nasty w-when your pussy is the one spillin’ all over me? Hngh- jus’ look at her, doll.”

There’s nothing else that you could look at - because Toji’s flexing arms were caging you into your cozy little cove. Dark brows marrying together in pure bliss when he’s dragging his cock out of your slippery cunt with a wet plop! Letting your puckered hole slide a drizzling coating of cum. 

And then plugging you back in - and then again. In and out. In and out in and-

“And whose f-fault is that?”

“Hers.”

Even through your stupidly fucked mind you could catch the way that Toji’s voice was dipped in pure loving. A hypnotized grin leering all over his face - you could ask him to bring you the moon right now and he would.

Hunching his entire heaving body over to move back inside your snug walls mercilessly, he nips down your tender earlobe. Grunting, “Heh, I read ya nasty pussy would ngh- like this.”

And he’s seeping in a few fingers to swirl around the ounces of white that stained your bulging cunt, around and around until it was thoroughly coating his dripping wet fingers. Tracing just enough over your pulsing clit. And you thought he would bring it up for you to suck - you thought. 

Before he’s placing them swiftly into his mouth and whining - yes, whining. The clingy grip of your softened walls had him so gone. 

“P-pretend ya never fuckin’ heard that-” Toji’s snapping right before you can open your teasing mouth, and his high cheekbones color in the most innocent shade of rosy pink. Snarling, “-s’not m-my fault- it’s hers.”

Yeah, because your dripping cunt was way too much for a virgin to handle - it had him going mad. 

It had him rummaging even deeper into your pliant cunt, tenderizing your poor g-spots into the perfect bullseyes that he just couldn’t miss. All the way to the base. Toji’s making the bed creak with each one of his ruts, sweat slicking down the middle of his curved spine at his staggering pace. 

And he wasn’t even tired - not a single ounce. You think he’d be tired while buried in a blissful cunt like this?

Monstrous stamina pushing and pushing his weepy tip down in streaming slides across your sweet spots. Without a singular warning, his mountainous palms snatch your trembly legs up to throw them over his broad shoulders. 

“Sh-shit, the stretch–” you’re mewling when he’s easily folding you in half like a lawnchair. Merciless. Snickering.

Absolutely no shred of regret or apology when he grins, “Y’know…I also read online about th-this thing called a…mating press.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - SWEETENER!

“Like this?”

And you’ve never heard your stoic boyfriend ever sound like this before - with his chest heaving in gasps, gluttonous eyes locked down on your arched back, lips wobbling like the very fate of the world depended entirely on the next few words to fall from your cockdrunken mouth. 

Fuck- Nanami was so staggeringly massive that you couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t even jolt back to your senses until he’s peppering a drool-worthy trail of kisses down your spine. Echoing, strained. “Never done this before- I-is this okay, my love?”

“Yes! Hngh-” you’re managing to blink back the pearly tears welling up in your eyes. “Y-you can start to move, Kento.”

He’s placing a few more innocent pecks by the corner of your mouth before doing so, and just one singular movement - a singular inch inside your pretty cunt - had Nanami Kento hypnotized.

Breath hitching. 

You’re almost concerned when the first smooching thrust right into your awaiting g-spot had his muscled thighs shivering. Honeypool eyes wide, cheeks flushed, ruined. Frantically scrambling to clasp his thick fingers around your tender throat, Nanami heaves out a groan and pulls.

Feeding you the uncharacteristically ruthless inches of his furious cock, you’re being hauled about halfway down the velvety bed as if you’re some kind of doll. Pumped stupidly full of his fat girth, you’re not sure if that thunderous throb! throb! throb! was from his angry cock or from you. 

Head so light, “Ken–”

“Wh-what- oh…” Immediately, Nanami’s letting his hand drop from your neck as if it burned, sorrowfully kissing near those faint bruises. “I’m so sorry, my love- I didn’t realize. I won’t-”

“No no, baby–” Craning your head around to stop his stern mouth from ranting any further, you give him a smug smirk that you can feel the effects of. Feeling his sopping wet twitch into your bruised spots in a gloopy wave of scorching precum. “-I like it.”

Oh.

Oh, shit.

You shouldn’t have said that - fuck, you shouldn’t have said a word. Because that’s all it takes for Nanami to smack his sharp hip bones into you like he didn’t even realize what he was doing. 

And if the first tentative thrust into your cunt was magic - then this. Fuck, this was a miracle in real life. 

Your cunt is so talkative with him - slurring out a few saturated sploshes every time he’s pumping your gummy depths full of himself. 

Pummelling with very pound, and if you didn’t know any better then you would have thought that Nanami was fucking you like he hated you. Sloppy. Addicted. You’re feeling the slosh of his sticky pre inside you with every shuddering rut.

Languidly licking up the overwhelmed tears in your eyes, “M-m’sorry, darling I…” Interrupted by a syrupy hug of your walls like clingfilm, he was spearing open your insides so good. Molding himself into every nook and cranny inside you. Virginity be damned, he was having his fill for years. “-I can’t seem to stop. I-I just need-”

Words couldn’t even explain the sheer fucking heaven that Nanami was in right now. This was what you felt like? This? 

And you’re not even sure if he’s in control when he’s pushing down on your shaky body with one of his thick palms, right until you’re splayed out like some slut on the king-sized mattress. Hiking up one thick thigh to pressurize his thwacking pushes even harder, and the other to press down on your head with his foot. 

“Sh-shit you’re so deep, Ken–” your fingers thrash against the silken sheets at the even meaner angle. “I can feel you all the way-”

Right before you can finish your drawling sentence - almost as if Nanami didn’t want you to, couldn’t even handle the thought - his massive palm rummages from down under to glide down the thickened inflation where he was ruining you. Where he would feel the wet swipes of steaming hot precum being poured right into your womb. Where he could feel himself. 

And he’s trying to reign back some control - to remember all the tips that he’d read in those books. But god was it difficult when Nanami’s rubbing his fat thumb against your clit and making you whine. 

Over and over and-

“D-don’t run away–” Nanami’s voice cracks towards the very end - snapping you out of your lustful haze to realize that oh shit, you had been inching away. The stimulation so much. “M’yours- m’all yours. And I need you, my love, I need more-”

And right before you can correct your posture, knocking your  hips in sodden glides down his swollen length; Nanami’s snatching his speckled yellow tie right off somewhere across the bed and wringing it around your wrists tightly. Pinning them together over your back before leveraging it with one curl of his fingers to drag you back into his erection.

Nanami’s breath hitches, head finding itself thrown backwards in an instant. He’s leaning further backwards to drink in the heavenly sight of your ass quavering against his hips, of the way his skin was reddening now. 

“Th-theree we go, y-yer gonna take my fuckin’ cock. Aren’t you, my wife?”

You’re not sure what you’re gasping more at - the roughened lack of sanity in his words, or at the way he was calling you his wife. Again and again like a little mantra into the crook of your neck - all that he could say right now. 

“Such a p-pretty cunt- n’ a pretty wife…” Hushed out beside your ears at a feverish pace. “Y-you have me addicted so, soo…” Addicted enough to not be able to finish his sentence.  Nanami leaves a wet peck at your lips, and an even wetter smack! on your clit. 

And when you cum, you’re seeing white. 

Unsure of what’s even happening before Nanami’s fucking you through each peaking wave of your high, edging it deeper and deeper. You’re gasping at the feeling of his cock twitching vigorously inside. Harshly. Dangerously. 

“K-keep those legs open, darling.” He’s crushing you to his brawny body so tight. “M’gonna haaah- make this sweet cunt overspill.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Good girl never cry.

Geto Suguru never saw himself like this - feeling so blissfully good. 

He never saw himself with fucking tears beading at the very corners of his glassy eyes, his maw sagging animalistically open when his prespiration-slicked body glissades against yours. Yours. Shit- all he could think about was that clingy pussy of yours and you, you, you-

“Oh, what’s this?” Rumbling voice smooth against your ear, but all you can manage out is a pathetic few hahs! when Geto’s body never stops. His grueling hips don’t even slow down to let you catch your breath. “Heh, am I th-the one losing my virginity or are ngh- you, gorgeous?”

You’re huffing and puffing in a way that he can’t help but find so cute, feeling his lips curl up into a heady smile. “N-no need to be so mean, Sugu–”

“Tch.”

Without a split-second of hesitation - or so much as even a warning - he’s wrangling your legs over two broad shoulders. Biceps flexing when looping your two ankles around his flushed neck, pinning them together with a gruff, “Lock them.”

And it’s all you can manage to do when he’s folding down, down, down in half. Making your calves burn with sheer fatigue, your sloppy entrance stretches around the curve of Geto’s swollen cock. It was such a sight to behold - your succulent pussy lips drooling all down to his too-tight balls, talking back to him in the most slurping squelches with every jittery ram. 

Geto can feel himself trailing a translucent line of drool already - embarrassing. 

“Mhm—” Your entire body vibrates with his severe groans, nodding along with his sleazy eyes pointed downwards. And the angle helps him spit out in your slack mouth, snickering. “Th-think I like her better.”  

Your jaw drops - and he’s taking this perfect chance to smush your mouth into an embarrassing pout with two fingers squishing your cheeks together. Lolling his head downwards to pry open your mouth and suck on your tongue. 

“Hmpf! Then you can ngh- kiss ‘her’ instead-” Slow. Drooling. Such a filthy French kiss that Geto breaks with a wet smooch!

Pecking up your stubborn tears. How cute.

“Oh, I will…” Comes his answer, along with a few more thunking collisions into your rawly bruised g-spot as if he was reminding you just who you were dealing with - virgin or not. “You think j-jus’ because m’a hah- virgin, I don’t know how to handle such a s-sweet pussy?”

Maybe you nod, maybe you shake your head - you’re not even sure before Geto’s spitting out a wet wad of saliva that hits his ready digits with a wet thwack! Smearing right along your overly stuffed pussy, where he was funneling you so full of him. 

Gruffing out, “First m’gonna f-fuck her until she’s ngh- overspilling. Gonna ruin her for a-anyone else-” Twirling his rude thumb in a wet grind on the hood of your plump kiss, he’s leaving a few wet swats. “Then m’gonna taste her- treat her a lil’ while she’s already ah dripping with me. And then…” Breath hitching while he’s crashing a kiss into you once more. “-m’gonna do it all over again.”

“How do you even-”

He’s babbling nonsense now - or maybe truths. “Y’have no idea how much I’ve ah- imagined this, gorgeous– kept thinkin’ of it every night.” 

“R-really?” you gasp.

“Mhm– s-since the day I met ya. I’d imagine doin’ a little bit of hah-” Giving your mouth an innocent peck, “-this. Then some of-” Then a bite. “This.” And then the most slow drag of his hips down your walls, “And mostly this.”

God, he had half the mind to know that maybe you shouldn’t be hearing these. But Geto didn’t care. He couldn’t. Not when every drilling pound had him giddy, “Always wan’ed you to be all mine y’know- my lil’ cum dump, aren’t ya?”

You’re somehow muffling out - seeping through each labored breath. “Yes- yes yes yes- fuck- m’so close, Sugu- M’gonna-”

“Of course ya are.” He’s rolling his eyes, acting for all the world like his painfully swollen balls weren’t just aching to cum already. Hips getting sloppier and sloppier, as do his words. “She told me- h-hurry up already. Cum on my fuckin’ cock.”

And Geto thinks he tried to hold back how pathetically pussydrunken he was on your gorgeous cunt, he thinks he tried to do a good job of it. 

Tried.

But as soon as your orgasm hits you at full force - oh, that’s when he’s allowing his eyes to mask over with a bleary veil of tears. Drip, drip, dripping down in hot splatters onto your skin- it feels so good.

And Geto bites down hard into the crook of your neck, muffling those rasping whimpers curdling at the back of his throat when he cums. When he feels his ears pop! lids flashing his vision with pure white. 

“S-so much–” you’re mewling when he’s dumping out such voluminous ropes of seed. Thick, sticky, sloshing down in neverending rivulets. He’s fucking you through each and every one, mashing into your very g-spot- “There’s ah! S’overspilling, Suguru-”

Overspilling.

Oh, Geto would never admit it but he couldn’t even bear to turn his head downwards at the exact sight that you were talking about. No. 

It was already embarrassing enough to tumble into his second orgasm just from your sentence. Pearly white canines digging into the mound of your flesh so hard that you think he might just draw blood. The muscles in Geto’s jaw ticks when his bawling divot pushes out another few sputtering smacks! of cum against your sweetest spots. 

“Y-you…” he’s gasping out, barely even audible. And as soon as Geto’s raising his dampened face from the haven at your neck, you’re practically gasping at the fucked-out expression on his face. Eyes unfocused, skin a blotchy red, hair curtaining his face and making it almost impossible to tell where he was looking. “I really came…inside- hah- inside your pretty pussy.”

In awe.

Geto’s moving lazily - like he’s in a pool of molasses - when he dances a hand down to your beading cunt. Probing a few fingers back in to feed your parched pussy the remnants of excess cum. “C-can I- can I do it again?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - “I-is this heaven?”

Choso didn’t mean to say that out loud - in fact, he’d probably rather die than actually babble it out to you. 

But how could he not when you were smearing your syrupy sweet folds all open for him that way? Two of your fingers sliding between your legs with a purring, “Why dontcha find out, Cho–?”

It should’ve been embarrassing the way he’s tripping and stumbling over the expanse of the plush king-sized bed to loom dangerously closer to you. To softly guide your hand away with a nudge of his reddened, aching cock. Choso’s practically begging on his own two knees when he gasps- heaves, “I-I can put it inside?” Still in wonderment. He must be dreaming. Slurring up a sopping wet drag of his fat, ruby tip just to confirm. “C-can I really?”

“Mhm–” you’re nodding. “Careful not to hurt your-”

But you’re not given the privilege to finish your sentence. Hell, you’re not given the privilege to even finish taking in a deep inhale before all of it comes rushing back out in the most feverish gasp.

Hurtling out of your suddenly bowing body when you’re suddenly being so split-apart. Choso’s ambushing tip bullying your pussy lips wide agape, he’s fucking you so full with just the tiniest, mindless little gyrations of his flexible hips just to fit inside. 

Because Choso might be a virgin - but with his staggering size, he didn’t even have to try to hit your earliest sweet spots. 

“Move your hand, baby, I-I…”

That’s when you’re glimpsing at your poor boyfriend, who’s already so utterly wrecked. The very moment he’s slid into your snug cunt, it had him seeing stars. Bursts of pleasure exploding at his sensitive cock, dark eyes rolling to the back of his head, Choso’s grasping a hand around a few of his sweat-dampened locks and pulling to jolt himself back to reality.

When he blinks his teary eyes back open, you swear his pupils had turned into hearts. Whispering, “M’in love with you oh-”

Both of you are snapping downwards your heads in unison when something swelteringly hot floods your insides. Creamy and sloshing like treacle down your walls - all it took was once look up at Choso’s prettily burning blush to realize that he’d cum as soon as he put it in. 

“Ch-Choso-”

“Shit- shit- m’sorry, baby–” he’s grunting out, hips moving by themselves in filthy little collisions that jerk you on the bed. He’s so surprisingly hands-on, fingers gliding up and down your arched back to massage all your tender spots. “I didn’t mean to c-cum so early- shit- m’sorry–”

It’s barely even possible to form a coherent though with the way he was fucking into you so sloppily. He can’t stop. He won’t. No rhythm or reason - just pure, primal need dripping from every plummet of his thickened cock into your gooey depths. 

You’re prattling out softly, “It’s okay, baby.” Running your hands through the wet strands of his bangs sticking to his prespired forehead, Choso’s face lights up into an intoxicated smile at your candied cooing. “K-keep going-”

As if to illustrate your point, you’re bucking your hips off the bed to meet his - to strike your abdomen down in a stinging slam! The sticky smack of skin-on-skin makes you both hiss, and Choso’s bludgeoning tip drives even deeper in a bashful kiss against your velvety cervix. 

“O-oh…” His jaw drops slack, a slight trickle of drool running its way down at this point. Without another words, two strong arms wrap themselves around your body, and he’s angling his hips urgently - desperately - to replicate that gummy recoil. Again. And again. And again and again. “H-how can it feel so hngh- good? How- why, baby?”

Shit, Choso’s babbling nonsense and he knows he’s babbling nonsense.

Which is why once you’re pressing gentle pecks all over his face - from his forehead, to his blushing cheekbones, all down to his wobbly lips - he’s now sure he’s in heaven. And you’re his own personal angel. 

Panting out hot puffs against your mouth, you could savor his sugary sweet taste already. “Th-think m’gonna cum again, baby- oh, I- can I cum inside? Please? Please, baby?”

“I-inside, please-” Your words tremble out in nothing but mere mewls, curling one of your arms around his neck to haul your dear boyfriend over even closer. He lets you - lets himself be so used. “-d-don’t miss, okay?”

How could he ever when you’re asking him so sweetly like this?

Making him wrack out a heavy shudder all the way from his dizzy head to his twitchy tip, spurting out a few buttery dredges of pre. So close. Choso slips and slides his palms down onto your thighs to spread them wide open for him. Murmuring out a throaty, “Won’t miss- won’t miss. D-don’t you worry, baby, m’not gonna miss.” like a mantra. Hypnotized.

Splattering out thick helpings of cum that flood your gaping entrance, you can feel your snug walls inflating with each ram of his cock. Swirling down, down, down to knock at your womb- Choso is so messy.

Supposedly helping clean you up by dragging a hand to your tummy, bearing down hard right on top of the very spot he knew would make you spill out a syrupy puddle of his seed. Painting a creamy white ring all over his twitching base. 

“L-look, baby- I didn’t miss.” He chuckles - chuckles. So in bliss that he doesn’t even realize the way his entire body was shivering with the convulsions still. “Ah, y-you took my virginity and I didn’t even hngh- miss.”

Barely even lucid when he uses that superhuman strength of his to flip the two of you over, lounging on his back against the now-damp sheets. But Choso doesn’t feel disgusted - not even close - he’s staring up at you through heavy, droopy eyes. Pussydrunk. 

And he can only manage out two words. 

“Ride me?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - S-s-stutter?!

“Tch, don’t think this is going to get the hah- king to bow down to ya, lil’ human.” Sukuna seethes at the sight of you on all slutty fours - and it would be a whole lot more threatening had it not been for the way his graveling voice cracks. The way all he can let out is a string of slurring swears when your preslicked pussy lips glide across his angrily hard cocks. 

“Mhm– whatever you say, Kuna-” your voice was sweetly agitating him, making his flushed heads perk up in feral little jolts. Desperate to bully himself inside your sopping entrance. “Just give me- both-”

With a sudden clasp of his vice-like fingers around your waist, you’re being shoved against the plush mattress of the royal bed. Bouncing up softly against those marshmallowy pillows and caged against Sukuna’s hulking body.

You’re breathing out a little, “It would be easier for you if-”

“I know.” He’s cutting you off, devilishly red eyes straying off into the distance and away from anywhere near your gaze. Regal cheekbones a beet red when he’s finally looking at you,  “This-” One of his clawed palms cup your face, “-this is better.”

And of course the king of curses isn’t going to fucking admit it when he wants to see every one of your fucked-out expressions. 

Of course he’s not going to let you ponder on his uncharacteristic actions for too long before swiping a wet skim down your slit. Pooling up your slick juices down his pulsing cocks, one of his massive palms jostle and smear that translucent gloss down his lengths. The other prodding at your winking entrance - “Heh, take a deep breath- doesn’t matter that m’a fucking virgin, you’re the one that needs ta brace yerself, brat.”

Fuck- it doesn’t matter how much you might’ve readied yourself because Sukuna’s matchingly thick lengths we always going to split you apart until you felt like you should sob.

It was such a delicious stretch - probing at every one of your sugary spots, his intrusion was working your tight channel open in a way you’d never even thought possible before. Spreading your tight rim of muscle gapingly open as you milk every copious inch of his double shafts. 

“Would ya look at that–” Sukuna’s drawling out, and his eyes widen with a tinge of genuine surprise. Long tongue darting outwards to lick up that embarrassing slick of dribble escaping his awe-struck lips. “Sucking me up so well ahhh- s’like your cute pussy’s made f’me. Aren’t ya?”

It’s maddening.

It’s filthy the way that Sukuna’s leaning his sleazy head even closer to drink up every sodden noise that emanates from your cunt when he’s filling himself inside your cunt deeper. And deeper. Like his length was never-ending. 

Every squelch, every slurp that makes him chuckle. Wafting one of his dark, overgrown nails across the bumpy outline of his drilling tips on your tummy. “Oh, damn t-talkative, too-”

Your veins thunder rapidly with the sheer lewd embarrassment of having Sukuna listening and conversing with your sloppy cunt. And the feeling makes you let out a whiny huff and clench-

Oh. 

He’d never felt like this. 

“Sh-shit- marry me.”

Someone’s gasping - and it takes you only a few lazy seconds after Sukuna’s bludgeoning the entirety of his two dicks into your cunt to realize that it wasn’t you. Blinking back your already overwhelmed tears, you open your mouth- 

“You didn’t hear th-”

“Wh-what was that?” 

“Nothing- oh-” Another clench. Another gushing spurt of his steamy precum dripping down your cervix. “-fuck you evil, evil little…” Sukuna’s baring his sharpened canines in a snarl - but that doesn’t do much to deter your grin when he’s practically shivering with stimulation above you. Stuttering. “I said- m-marry me.”

It’s a command more than a question, and it’s spewing out from Sukuna’s lips with every spearhead into your poor, bruised cunt. Pressing wet peck after peck on your cervix, your g-spot - anywhere and everywhere his thorough cocks could reach - as if he was trying to convince you to say yes. 

“It ah! feels so good, Kuna-” you’re dragging out from your shot throat, mouth clamping to a close around a hard bite on his muscular, tattooed shoulders. 

“Easy there on the ngh- merchandise.” He rolls his eyes, faintly going cross-eyed when your hips start bouncing back and forth back and forth back and forth in an attempt to match his pressurized cadence. “Though-” Sukuna’s gulping, your cunt had his mind in a frenzy, has this all-powerful sorcerer held hostage. “I guess I should cut some ngh- slack for the future queen.”

Ah, yes.

Sukuna could see it already - the only vision in his hazy mind getting clearer and clearer with each punishing thrust into your gummy depths, with each powerful drag of your hips to slam and bounce against his. The vision of you adorned in his robes and sitting on his throne, with a few little pink-haired heirs too…

And he’s getting ahead of himself - he’s completely, irrevocably pussydrunk at this point.

Out of control when he’s gliding one calloused hand across your tummy, where you’d be round and glowing for him should you wish. The second of his hands dipping cozily down for him to kiss your plump clit with his second mouth. Grinning, “F-for the future queen and…the mother of my kids.”

And when Sukuna’s cumming it’s with that exact image in mind - what a beautiful momma you’d be. What a beautiful cunt you have when you’re all slathered in a thick coating of his seed. 

All creamy and glomping out from between your puffed-up slit, you’re cumming at the sheer wave of it filling you up all inside. Until you were so stuffed you felt like you could burst. Seeing stars explode behind your eyes, and your ears thunder with the ricochet of Sukuna’s slowly softening cocks. “B-better not tell anyone about…that, my wife.”

♡ INO TAKUMA - LOVE love

“Please-” Ino’s staring up deeply into your drunken eyes like he never wanted to look away. Never could when you were straddled all prettily on top of him, riding the fucking soul out of his poor, inexperienced cock. “-j-jus’ the tip- nhgh-”

One taste of your pretty pussy and he was gone. 

Your hands are sliding greedily down his toned body, making themselves at home right over his pretty pectorals. Swirling over his rosy nipples, “Baby– we’re way past jus’ the ngh- tip.”

You were?

Shit, Ino’s practically grappling with that mushy part of himself to tear his glassy gaze down to where you’re swallowing him up into your gummy heaven. Breath hitching in a grovelling rasp at the way your puffy pussy lips were mounting wide open on his fat girth. Streaming down a waterfall of your glossy slick that covers him in a glistening coating. 

Fuck, he suddenly couldn’t tear his eyes away. 

“O-oh.” Ino’s mouth sags open with a shuddering gasp, and he can’t help but grin. He can’t help but chuckle in a deep, wet way that makes his furious divot bawl out copious torrents of thick pre. “You are. G-guess you officially took my hah- virginity, huh, pretty?”

Guiding a few slender fingers to give the jiggling fat of your ass a sharp smack! You can only keen when Ino bucks his hips up further and further - harder. Every second sending him into a frenzy.

“T-Taku…” you’re whining out. Fingers glissading across his warm, sweat-sheened collarbones and curling around his tender throat. “I th-thought I told you to let me do all the ah- work…”

Oh, he’s leaning upwards in a sudden surge to kiss up against your lips in a wet glide. Humming confidently like he wasn’t fucking ruined every time your hips came crashing down. “But I can’t help it- can’t- ah- wan’ you to fuckin’ use me.”

Ino didn’t know what he was doing - didn’t even know what he was thinking when he’s curving his powerful back to send a riotous few crashes against your bruising g-spot. To fuck up into you so harsh that it leaves the bed frame protesting in creaks.

Dancing his own digits to intertwine with yours on his neck - Ino makes you squeeze. “Tighter. Harder. C’mon now- f-fuck me, pretty.”

You have no choice but to obey - to slide back and forth on his uprightly curved cock, the angle was dizzying with its collisions against the bullseye of that spot. His heavy balls smack into your ass until you were sure it bruised. And still- still it wasn’t enough.

Stil, Ino finds himself veering a trembly hand up to your plump clit. Leaving a sodden, stinging smack! 

“W-woah…” His voice just cracks, brown strands of hair falling onto his sweat-glazed forehead when he’s jolting. “You just got- s-so soaked- tell me tell me how I hngh- do that again-”

So desperate. So eager to please. 

The adoration was just bursting from his half-lidded eyes and right through every sparring jut of his cock. Clashing. Kissing. Sopping French kisses into your treacly walls that make you squeal. “J-jus’ right there- hngh-”

“There? There, r-right?” He’s so pretty when he’s batting his long lashes up at you, dewy eyes practically fluttering shut at the way your cunt was clinging onto him. Needy. “A-and what about this? What about ngh- here?” 

How tentative…so cute. 

“Don’t be shy, baby–” Your voice was honey, so sweetened that it makes him bite back a few pathetic whimpers. A furiously innocent blush sunrising its way into his cheeks, “-you can hah- do whatever you want.”

Whatever.

Fuck, the words are barely out of your mouth before Ino’s clapping his massively splayed out hands onto the curve of your ass. He’s copping a generous grope while seeping his full length in staggering thrusts, and he’s so flexible. So smooth with his movements. 

Gifting another palm print that raises against your tender flesh, Ino has the audacity to bear you with a sleazy grin as soon as you strengthen your chokehold on him. Cutting off his airway, yet, he gives you a look that told you he was so in love. Making him choke out a little, “Yeah- yeah jus’ like that. N-need you to fucking ruin my life.”

You’re pecking his lips with such a pout, “Careful, or I might jus’ ngh- tie you up next time.”

And Ino doesn’t know if it’s the idea of a next time or the idea of, well, that but he’s letting his eyes veer crossed and head loll pathetically backwards. A languid drizzle of drool escaping his lips when he wrenches open his mouth and whines, “M’cumming- sh-shit I’m-”

It’s such a melty heaven between your legs. 

And Ino’s oozing out pearly gumdrops of cum into your womb, cumming and cumming so hard that he can’t stop it spilling out. And he doesn’t even want to because- shit, he’s never going to cum into his hand ever again. 

Doesn’t have to. 

Because when you’re finally reaching your high, your sloshing walls clamping around him was addictive. Those moans of yours so pretty that he’s almost wishing he’d brought out his phone to record them as his favorite song. 

“I love you-” He’s feeling every velvety throb of your pulse, every clench that his solidly pussydrunken mind would love to think is specifically to suck up every beading sob from his cock. “I love you I love you I- god, I fuckin’ love you, ma.” Feeling every splatter dripping down your cushiony walls. And that makes him cum again- again and again. Orgasms crashing into one another. Until his shaft can only upstart with a few beads of nothing. Cumming dry-

“W-wait are you on the pill, pretty?”

“...”

♡ GOJO SATORU - POCKETPUSSY3000

“Th-this is nothing like my PocketPussy3000…” The great Gojo Satoru can only gape at the way your sultry cunt was swallowing up his red, swollen cock. Can only grip you into a full nelson so bruising. So addicted. Every disappearing inch having his skin burst in a wave of tiny blue bolts of lightning. “Th-this is so much better.”

Better indeed, because the strongest was a virgin.

You’re pushing away the strands of white that cling onto his sweaty forehead, “I-I should ngh- stop you right now for comparing me to that thing.”

And it was just a little joke, really. 

But you didn’t anticipate the way that your poor boyfriend would shatter like the world just ended. 

His pretty pink lips parting in a slurring gasp, dewy blue eyes practically bulging out of his head. Babbling out something drawling and raw into the crook of your neck, “No- no no no–”

Two of his slender digits dip down to smear your swollen pussy lips wide open, scissoring your sloppy hole elastically open to shovel himself all the way until he was poking into your springy cervix.

“Y-you don’t mean that right?” He’s breathing. Hissing when your snug walls suck his fingerpads up with every lazy - urging pump. The double penetration making you keen. “P-please don’t don’t take this pretty pussy away from me- I jus- got- her-” He’s pressing a flurry of innocent kisses down your cheek. Over and over until you’re cracking a smile. “-I’ll throw it out- th-throw that stupid thing out. Don’t need it anymore when I have hngh you.”

Gojo’s absolutely melting at the sheer sex. 

So hot and cozy inside you that he’s fucking hypnotized. Drool driveling down the corner of his mouth when your plushy walls are molding all around his throbbing girth.

God, he truly was the strongest - such a massive cock that he didn’t even have to try to press wet little brandings of precum right near that spot.

“S-squeeze around me, sweetheart–” Gojo’s dragging his thumb sloppily all over your clit, and you get the distinct feeling that he’s making such a mess on purpose. “-please- I r-read about this once- can you…”

Ah, Gojo’s head slumps  backwards into the silken pillows with a soft thud! Just one gripping cling of your velvety walls around his cock had him seeing stars.

Had him seeing his future with you. Had him thinking that he might just be content to die right between your pretty thighs. Or worse - cum early.

Now, the strongest couldn’t cum before his girl - not even if it was his first time. No, no, no. The strongest had to bite down on one of his wobbly rose lips before any more embarrassing whines could let slip, planting his feet firmly steadfast onto the mattress to gift a punishing thrust into you. 

Jostling into your body until you felt weightless, he’s streaming up translucent glosses of precum with every one of his bounces. Every shuddering thwack! of his tight, cum-filled balls, every bruising smack of his sharp hips onto your ass. 

“Where is it-” he’s muttering darkly into your ear. More, more, more. Massive hands coveting all down where he could feel the obscenely thick cylindrical outline of his own length rummaging inside you. Leaving a mess. Making a mess. “C’mon c’mon- c’mon…where is it.”

“Wh-what are you even- ah!” you squeal when he gives your puffy clit a ruthless pinch. “-what are you even looking for, Toru–”

This only leaves you with a few more circular bruises on your cervix, and you catch the way that Gojo’s ruts grow sloppier. The way his pants become more condensed. And he’s dragging his sweat-slicked cheek down your own with a strained call of your name - practically purring. 

“Don’t- ohh shit- don’t say my name like that-” Gojo whines - whines. “Please. You don’t know h-how heavenly this gorgeous cunt is, hah- have mercy the first time, sweetness.”

But of course you don’t.

“Toru–”

“Fuck!” Gojo’s dazed eyes snap open in an instant, it was almost as if on autopilot the way his fingers spark subconsciously with a few sparks of cursed energy - he couldn’t hold it in. He didn’t want to. 

With a few swift movements, he’s using years and years of practice in battle to wrangle two strong arms around your waist and shove you face-first onto the king-sized mattress. 

One sculpted thigh kneeing open your trembly legs further onto all fours, the other hiking up, up, up to angle his reddish tip right into your neglected g-spot. So harsh. So thorough. 

“No- no no no- lemme see that p-pretty face.” He’s hauling your pliant body into what you think is a headlock, feeling your neck surrounded by Gojo’s pale, bulging bicep. So tight. it makes you whirl your glassy eyes around and-

Oh.

Oh.

Gojo Satoru was ruined.

Was letting his six eyes work overtime to locate your cushiony sweet spots, directing his slender hips to plummet right into each and every one. Greedy gaze practically glowing every time your knees weaken when his rotund, weepy head crashes into your battered sensitive spots. Buttering up your insides in a thick, creamy gloss of pre. Close. He was so close. 

“Th-that’s cheating–” 

“N-nooo not cheating.” he’s leaving the tiniest bites and hickeys all over your exposed neck, back muscles flexing when he bows easily into your own body. You could feel every massage and glide of his washboard abs down your arched spine. He was so hot. Burning up, practically. “I did my r-research…” And it’s the way his powerfully buzzing digits roll messily over your clit that has you wondering whether he even realized he was using his powers.

Whether he was too pussydrunk to.

Too cocky about the way all it takes is a few lazy seconds of his rude toying with your sensitive nub for you to cum. Hell yeah - before him, he’s noting with a heady laugh. 

A laugh. 

Wide and humorless - directed at you when just a singular gush of your drooling lips makes his eyes slide all the way to the back of his head. And he couldn’t help the way his head drops backwards, all it takes for Gojo to stumble right over the edge. 

“Shit shit shit shit-” he’s scrunching his eyes open - just barely registering the way the bedroom lights have shattered. Letting out a low hiss before painting your gummy insides in a milky coat of his thick seed. 

Leaving the wettest traces all over your cervix, he can feel its sloshing dredges all around him when Gojo’s ragging down your walls to glide his twitch cock out. To gasp at the way your teary slit was drizzling him in a glistening lamination of his own cum. 

Drip! Drip! Dripping all down onto the expensive navy sheet - and he’s finding himself grinning. Shuffling down to his knees until his mouth pressed a pretty peck onto your slobbering pussy, “A-after this m’gonna sh-show you how the strongest really fucks his PocketPussy3000…imaginin’ you.”

A/N. Hope y’all have a lovely lovely weekkk!!

Plagiarism not authorized.

[bunny-jpeg]

honey, i'm home!!, convict!simon r.- you were a bleeding heart, a softie. maybe that was why you took a photo of the flyer taped against the glass wall of a bus stop. it was advertising a service for people on the outside to communicate with convicts in prison. those who didn't have family on the outside. it broke your heart as you thought about it on your commute to work.

these poor people, all alone with anyone to keep them tethered to outside. it must be so isolating, so cold. you knew the risks and when you put in your information on the website, you didn't pay too much mind to the possibilities. you were surprised when you got an email back saying that they had found you a inmate to be a pen pal with.

simon riley - five year sentence for assaulting a police officer. he had no living family and was allowed to join the program due to good behavior during his time in prison. the mugshot of him made your eyes go wide. blond, a smattering of moles and freckles, alluring brown eyes (even in the horrid mugshot light), a crooked nose from multiple breakages and scars on his face.

if your jaw dropped at the sight of his photo imagine the surprise on his face when they gave him all your information. no photo though. but enough about you to pull the convict in. oh, you were beautiful. at least on paper you were.

ideal wife-y material. that made simon chub up in his jumpsuit. he didn't care what you looked like, by the first letter he was already calling you his wife to the likes of johnny. calling you missus riley by the time he had been exchanging letters with you for a month. he learned so much about you, and you became more endearing. you told him your favourite movies, that some flowers made you allergies act up, your love of animals. you even told him about the stuffed animal you 'rescued' from a puddle, washed it up and named it tulip who now sits on your desk at home. it was sweet, you were sweet.

simon near killed a man in a botched robbery and you were talking to him like it was a first date. mind you, over letters but simon loved them. you were advised not to send anything in the mail, your address was obscured with the service's address so simon couldn't find you once he got out. but, with the right words and promises, he had your full name, the location of your job and the address of your home. you were even sweet enough let him put it as his main address once he left prison. already the sweetest thing since honey.

but simon was a greedy man, asked for a few photos of you. while you were shy, he said to you, "wanna know what my girl looks like. wanna know how she looks so when i come home, i'm able to recognize her in any crowd." and you sent a few photos, and to simon's surprise. a suggestive one.

he could see a peek of your breasts and he realized he wanted to get his paws all over them. he wanted to leave pretty bruises on that tender flesh. mark what was his, that was what he learned in prison. in order to keep something he had to keep a tight grip on it. not even johnny saw the photos, you were for his eyes only.

you were nice enough to print them on good quality photo paper, and after that there was an increase in simon's good behavior. he had to get out as soon as possible to sink his achy cock in his missus. and when the day finally came and you came to pick him up. he already felt tight in his jeans.

and not that you were so innocent either, you had your hand on his thigh while you drove home. months of dirty talk over letters, the time simon basically wrote poetry about how he wanted to taste between your legs was still a favourite to read while you were all alone in your apartment. your hand between your legs, imagining a man like simon pleasing you in a way that made orgasm come quick.

your self pleasure was nothing compared to the feeling of simon against your skin. you barely got his scarce belongings into your flat before he was pressed up against your behind. his large, rough hand on your hip, which made your stomach leap. your core got warmer.

he then said to you, "aw, doll. that's not a way to greet your husband. been away for too long, need to feel her." and then dropped his duffel bag in favour of having you pressed up against the door of your flat with your shorts soon around your ankles.

"simon! ah!" you said as he held you by the shoulders against the door while he got his belt off and his cock out. five years without a hole to call home, but he got out of the pit with a little (future) wife to happily make up for loss time.

when he sank into you, it was a religious experience, "oh honey, i'm home." before he got both hands on your hips and his hips hit up against your ass. there was little time to get familiar, it was a deep seated want. simon rutted against you like a feral dog and the pleasure made you mind race and your knees wobble.

you two couldn't even get to the bedroom, not that simon cared. he'd happily have you over the hood of his car. you knew he didn't have any satisfactions from the outside. you were being good and being his connection to the outside world. it was only fair that he thanked you with all the orgasms he could wring out of you. he'd make sure that the third round was in your soft bed. but his thrusts were heavy and desperate and the uneven pace made your brain become flooded with pleasure.

you tried to find some kind of leverage against the door, but you were simply stuck against him. you were fucked against the wood door with your hips in your convict lover's hands. he may have smudged a little bit of the details of his crimes, but it was alright. you were such a forgiving soul that you let him into your life, into your home, into your womb. he couldn't remember if you still took the pill, but it was too late for that. not while your slick cunt drooled all over his balls.

why complain about a slice of heaven when it was dropped into his lap. he eventually wrapped both arms around your middle and fucked into you feverishly. he felt the excitement in his body as he moved against you. you felt amazing, there was a certain beauty to you as you took his cock was cemented that you were his. you'll have a ring on your finger and a fat belly by christmas. the thought made him twitch.

been too long since he had a homecooked meal, and while having your cunt grasp his cock. he knew that he'd be spoiled with his wife's cooking. if it was as warm as you pussy, maybe it'll reform him more than prison ever did.

after so many years without a touch of a woman, it felt nice. it felt great to work his cock into you. have you squished up against the door as he worked himself into you. breaking in his home, breaking in his wife. what more could he want. even gave that stomach of yours a sweet little pat.

be a good girl and give him a chunky riley baby by new year.

when you climaxed, you basically were limp in his arms and he pressed you further against the door for leverage. he purred to you, "that's it, that's is, doll. you're doing so good, fuck. been wantin' this for ages. good girl, good cunt. all for me. not gettin' into trouble while i was in, right? keepin' yourself for me."

you nodded, cheek pressed against the door as he continued to fuck you. your head felt dizzy. you didn't bother dating after you started your correspondence with simon. no point, he kept your happy. simon knew that loyalty was rewarded, so he did so by shoving every inch of his length inside of you an finishing straight into the back of your womb.

he groaned and gave you a few more thrusts before he pulled out. he patted you on the behind and kissed the back of your neck, "happy to be home, doll. our home. now why don't you show me around." and chuckled when you could barely string together a sentence. he pulled you up against his chest and near leaned over you to kiss you on the cheek, "look alive, sunshine. gotta show your husband his new home. except i think it might be too small. especially when the twins come." and it went in one ear and out the other, you dumbly nodded and simon did the right thing and fucked you over the coffee table until you came a second and third time. it's alright, he'll get a tour of his home by fucking you over every available surface. <3

a/n: happy near year, my dear bunnies <3

[pixie-felix]

a/n: this fic has nothing to do with food.

why yes I did make these GIFs especially for this fic thank you for noticing

Something to read while we're waiting for the results of the no thoughts/hard thoughts poll. If you want a soundtrack, Hey Daddy (Daddy's Home) by Usher fits pretty well (no daddy kink in the fic though). 0.4k

Smut under the cut, minors dni.

comfort eating.

You’d been staring at this damn code for so long you might’ve burned it into your eyeballs. Somewhere, in the distance, you’re vaguely aware of the apartment door opening and closing, and someone calling out that they're home.

But by now you’re so obsessed with trying to find whatever formatting fuck up you made, that even the metallic jingle of keys falling into the “let’s-not-lose-this-shit” bowl doesn’t bring you back into the real world.

It’s not until your laptop physically moves out of your hands that you realise. Chan is home.

Sitting on his heels in front of you, he gently picks the computer up off your lap, his expression a mixture of concern and understanding. One workaholic recognises another.

“Is everything backed up?” He too knows the pain of a well meaning friend trying to help by tidying up, and accidentally erasing hours of hard work.

“Cloud and hard drive. And external hard drive. Possibly tattooed on my retinas also." He nods and carefully sets it on the side table, snorting quietly when you get to the part about your eyeballs. The little crease between his brows remains though.

“You told me you were going to take today off…”

You'd only meant to do a few lines of code, just to check for errors and maybe add a function or two. And yet here you are, sitting in the exact same spot from this morning, neck and shoulders aching from being hunched over your laptop for…

7 hours.

Chan rests his chin on your knees, head tilted to the side as he looks up at you like a lost puppy.

“Baby…”

No. Wait. Puppies don't sound like that. Or look at you like that. Or rub soothing, promising circles with their thumbs on the bare skin of your calves.

You're suddenly very aware still in your pajamas. If you can call it that. Really it's just one of Chan's old t-shirts, the fabric worn soft, always smelling like him even though you slept in it- and not much else.

Yeah, Chan's definitely not giving you puppy eyes.

The wolf is here tonight.

And he wants to play. You can tell from the subtle smirk that quirks the corner of his mouth when you audibly swallow.

“How… how was work?”

“Long. Busy. Tiring.” He punctuates his sentences with slow kisses on your knees, the closed mouth kind that still manage to feel anything but chaste. “Jisung dyed his hair blue. Felix's is no longer blond. Hyunjin cut all his hair off. Someone said something about a kiwi fruit and now the stylists are all freaking out.”

His tone is light, almost absent minded, but his touch has progressed from soothing circles to something a little firmer, a little more… demanding. And as his hands slowly creep up your legs, you're fairly certain you know what he wants.

“Chan…”

“Yes, baby?” His lips stretch into something that could almost pass for an innocent smile, if it wasn't for the fact his fingers have worked their way up to the hem of his t-shirt, slowly teasing the fabric further up your legs.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

“Well…” his fingers sweep under the fabric, inching closer and closer to where arousal is bubbling in your belly, still carefully punctuating his words with kisses on your skin, “I figured, since we're both so... stressed…” his fingers finally brush against your panties and you shiver. “I could help you relax a little.”

“Wh-what a-about you?”

He’s tracing, teasing along the edges of your underwear, watching you bite your lip to keep your cool. He likes it when you try to stay quiet. It makes it so much more satisfying when you start crying his name like it's the only word you know.

And then the bastard licks up your thigh, tugging your panties down and saying the magic words:

“I thought I'd indulge in a little comfort eating.”

You didn't make it to the bedroom. You barely made it off the sofa. Instead, Chan just yanked you forward, laid back on the rug, and now you're riding his face in the middle of the living room. Making the kinds of noises you thought only existed in hardcore porn.

His arms are locked around your legs, holding you in place as he grinds you up and down on his tongue. Your hands are twisted into his hair, partly for balance, partly as an anchor… but mostly because when you tug on it Chan moans into your cunt and that feels so good.

He's already tongued you through one orgasm, licking you out like you are his favourite candy. He's so drunk on your pussy that he's murmuring the kind of filth that would usually make him blush -m’ baby tastes so GOOD, w’nna drown in thi’s pussy- though his words are almost completely obscured by the wet, sloppy sounds of him giving you the messiest head you've had in months.

It is amazing, and it's incredible, and Chan is clearly having the time of his life as another orgasm coils in your belly, ready to spring. But he's playing games with you now, teasing you with the gentlest flicks of his tongue, keeping that high juuuust out of reach.

Really, it's his fault that you can't help but yank his hair a little harder, grind down on his face harder, and then you're out of control, jerking your hips back and forth on his face until it hits.

And oh boy how it hits, gushing all over Chan's face, ripping all your dignity away as you buck your hips into his tongue, chasing the high rushing through you from your head to your toes.

You don't always squirt, but Chan loves it when you do.

His moans almost drown out yours, so loud he's practically shouting, definitely disturbing the neighbours with the string of enthusiastic cuss words and filth pouring off his tongue (that's right baby, cum on my face, fucking drown me in your cunt, jesus fucking christ-)

It takes you a minute to come back to yourself, Chan still desperately eating you out, working his tongue all over you like he's trying to lick you clean.

But the more he uses his tongue the wetter you get, the more your hips shake, and the closer you are to another orgasm.

One you're not sure you can handle.

You try to lift up a little, give him space to breathe, and your man straight up growls at you, yanking you back down on his face and sucking on you harsh enough to make you yelp. Reminding you who is in charge, he grazes your clit with just the gentlest scrape of his teeth...

And that orgasm you weren't ready for? Hits you like a railway train. You're aching and overstimulated and absolutely powerless to do anything other than thrash around and cry as Chan keeps sucking on your goddamned clit like the devil himself couldn't stop him.

You might've blacked out for a second. Or three.

It's only when you finally come to a gasping, shuddering stop that Chan finally gives you the two gentle taps on your ass that mean you can get off his face now (safewords aren't really an option when your mouth is full).

Except you're so worn out from relentless overstimulation that it's less of a dismount and more just you collapsing in a graceless heap, legs shaking and thighs aching from being held apart for so long.

Boneless and pliant, it's no effort at all for Chan to scoop you up into his arms and carry you princess style to your shared bedroom. You're barely awake as he tucks you into bed and crawls in beside you, nuzzling your hair as you curl up into his chest.

You've almost asleep when a Very Important Thought occurs

“Channie…”

“Yeah baby?”

“You didn't get to cum. Don't you need to cum? Y’wanna blowjob or sumthin’?”

Chan huffs a quiet laugh into your hair. You're so cute when your words are all sleep slurred.

“I already got what I wanted.”

You’re mumbling something about not playin' fair and don't w’nna be selfish, but you're practically unconscious anyway so he just kisses the top of your head and pulls you closer into his chest.

“You can make it up to me in the morning, if it bothers you so much.”

*It turns out that you will in fact, not be making it up to Chan in the morning. Because when he finds all the carpet burn on your knees, he has a minor breakdown and refuses to let you do anything all day.

Urgh, I feel like this is way, way too short, too rushed, and just generally had the potential to be so much better 😂😭 But I wanted to get it it out of my drafts before it gets lost in the poll fics. I wrote this on my phone, so it's probably riddled with spelling and formatting errors 😂 please forgive me. It's hard to write when the house is full and privacy is limited. Just 3 more days until the No Thoughts/Hard Thoughts closes 👀 thank you to everyone that's voted or shown interest, I hope my writing doesn't let you down.

p.s. I was gonna start this fic with the following GIF but not everyone wants a giggle with their word🍤 so that wouldn't have been very cash money of me.

m.list

hard thoughts poll

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