#Didn’t look out below | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sai-int · 13 days ago

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RETURN TO SENDER | simon riley

It was a joke. A letter to a criminal—UK's most wanted. You told him he was hot. Told him you were a virgin. Left your address, because it’s not like he’d ever get out, right?

✉ 2K FOLLOWER SPECIAL .ᐟ | [ AO3 ]

18+ AU, DUBCON, fem!reader, takes place in the UK, porn with plot, pathetic!reader, harddom!simon, asshole!simon, implied stalking, (morally irredeemable) pining, oral (f receiving), shit-ton of degradation, praise if you use a magnifying glass, virginity kink, pussy pronouns, pussy & face slapping, dacryphilia, unprotected sex [ 10.2k words ]

Who knew working at Tesco would be such a fucking nightmare?

It’s almost absurd how people can forget how to use their brains the second they step through the automatic doors. It’s a massive store, but you’ve come to believe that its sheer scale only amplifies some customers’ overwhelming stupidity.

You find yourself watching, day in and day out, as people stumble over the easiest parts of shopping, like scanning a barcode or finding the right aisle despite the sign above their heads. It’d be laughable if it wasn’t so damn frustrating. You can’t even afford the luxury of venting because you're stuck behind the register, forced to plaster on a fake smile, nodding while they hold up the line, your eye twitching as you answer the same question for the umpteenth time in 30 minutes.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of gritted teeth and hollow patience, your shift comes to an end. The relief is brief, but it’s there, at least. You drag yourself out of the store, shoulders slumped under the weight of the day. The commute home isn’t any prettier, but it’s a kind of mindless ritual that’s grown familiar over time—20 minutes on the train, crammed between strangers who are just as exhausted, just as done with the grind. The train lurches and hums beneath you, a rhythmic noise that almost lets you forget the stress. But you’re too far gone for that kind of escape, your mind still whirling with all the things you’ve had to swallow throughout the day.

The train empties as the sun sinks below the horizon, each stop peeling away another layer of the late afternoon crowd. You finally step off the train at the final stop, the air crisper than when you left for work nearly 11 hours ago. The walk home is short, but it’s long enough for your legs to remind you that you’ve been standing for hours. Ten long minutes to your flat, a familiar route that feels both comforting and suffocating in its monotony.

After walking down some quiet streets, past some sketchy alleyways, you finally reach your tiny one-bedroom flat. It’s tucked just outside Bromley, and it’s small, not much at all, but it’s enough. It’s the kind of space that suffocates you some days and feels like a sanctuary on others. You push your key into the lock and push the door open. You kick your shoes off and they thud as they hit the floor, echoing through your small flat. You hang your keys on the singular hook you stuck on the wall, barely noticing the clink of them settling into place.

This is what most days look like for you: wake up, subject yourself to a long, draining shift, then return home to an empty flat and an even emptier fridge. It's a routine that feels as hollow as the flat itself. The days fly by in a boring cycle of work, silence, and the echo of things you thought you’d left behind when you took the leap and moved out.

After college, you made it a point to leave your parents’ house. You couldn’t stay in the nest anymore, not when you so strongly believed there was something better waiting out there. You had to prove you could stand on your own, that you didn’t need the constant supervision or the suffocating presence of a family that just didn’t get it.

Honestly, who could? Who could stay locked in a house that felt less like a home and more like a cage? College had been the escape you’d craved, the independence you had always wanted. You dove in headfirst, joining club after club, meeting all kinds of people, each one with their own story, a sort of authenticity that people in high school never had.

In college, one of the many things you got involved in was Vets Club, which wrote letters to veterans, thanking them for their service. It was a simple thing, but there was something about it that felt right. You’d write a few lines of gratitude, nothing big, just a small act of kindness. And sometimes, you’d get a letter back. The responses were always the same—surprised and grateful that someone even bothered to take the time. It never felt like much, but it always made you feel good, knowing you could brighten someone's day just by saying thank you.

But now, when you’re standing in your tiny flat, staring at a barren fridge that only houses a bottle of wine and some leftover takeaway containers, you wonder if wasting your time on asinine things like that were worth it.

You’re having a… Well, a hard time, to put it kindly. The kind of time where nothing seems to go your way, and you can't quite shake the feeling that maybe you made some wrong choices. All of your college friends? They're out there, living it up, traveling the world, landing glamorous careers, posting photos of sunsets in Bali and dinners at places with names you can’t pronounce. They’re thriving, but you’re stuck here, watching their highlight reels on social media while your own life feels like it’s paused on a loop of dead-end shifts and lonely nights.

You had big dreams once. You convinced yourself that an art history degree was going to be the key to something meaningful, something that would set you apart. Now, though? Now, you can barely find work, and the opportunities that do pop up feel like they’re beyond you in all shapes and forms.

Rent and bills are manageable, but manageable doesn’t mean easy. To you, it means scraping by, choosing between a decent meal or keeping the lights on for another month.

Your parents help sometimes, covering the electricity bill here and there, but you’d rather die than let them know how bad it really is. You don’t need their pity, their unsolicited advice, or the smug ‘I told you so’ about picking a more practical degree. No matter how deep you’re sinking, you’ll claw your way up alone. It’s not pride, it’s survival. You’ve always done it yourself, it’s just easier that way.

And the real kicker? The cherry on top of this already pathetic sundae? You’re a fucking virgin. No one to warm your bed, keep you company. Mid-twenties and untouched, while your friends from high school are already posting pictures of shiny rings and baby-bumps. Like struggling to stay afloat wasn’t humiliating enough, you’re also trailing behind in the one thing that’s supposed to have happened already.

You’ve had chances—plenty of chances—but every time, you freeze. The pressure, the vulnerability, and the fear of not measuring up always make you bail.

Not that you’re a prude. You’ve done everything but. Had shitty oral a few times, given it even more. And if the guy’s screaming was anything to go by, you were either naturally good at it or he was just being dramatic. Either way, it was a fleeting moment of triumph in an otherwise awkward, unremarkable sex life, not quite the high point you’d imagined, but in your world of half-hearted hookups and ‘almosts,’ it was something. Proof you weren’t completely out of your depth.

Not that it really mattered.

You shut the fridge and turn to open the cabinet with the same lack of enthusiasm that’s come to define your evenings alone. Peanut butter and jelly, quick, mindless, barely even a choice. You spread the peanut butter, then the jelly, the motion mechanical, just something to fill the silence. The takeout leftovers can last till tomorrow.

You pad over to and collapse on your second-hand couch, the cushions sighing under your weight, and pull your legs beneath you. You grab your phone out of your pocket, thumb idly swiping up to unlock it. The screen lights up, and for a moment, you just stare at it. An infant-sized handful of notifications blink back at you—an automated bill reminder, a news alert you’ll ignore, a lone text from your mom checking in. That’s it. No stream of messages, no flood of tagged posts or party invites. Just a near-empty notification bar, silent in its own damning way.

With a sigh, you lock your phone and toss it aside, letting it land somewhere on the cushion beside you. No one’s waiting for you to reply anyway. Instead, you grab the remote and flick on the TV. The screen blinks to life and you skim through a few channels, the lowest-tier cable offering not much more than black-and-white novellas and the news. You settle for the latter, knowing it won’t add much to your day, but it’ll at least fill the space with noise.

The pretty woman on the screen drones on about politics and stocks, things you don’t have the capacity to care for. You nibble at your sandwich, half-listening as the segment shifts. The soft murmur of the newscaster is background noise until something catches your ear, an undercurrent of excitement creeping into her voice as she announces a breaking story. Your attention sharpens as she mentions a supposed notorious figure, someone whose name apparently carries weight in the world of crime.

A man known only as Ghost. No full name, no history, just a shadow stitched together by word of mouth and grainy security footage. The anchor’s voice is steady as she rattles off his crimes. High-profile armed robberies that bled banks dry, embezzlement schemes that unraveled entire corporations, and a trail of bodies left in the wake of meticulously executed mob hits.

It’s the kind of name you’d expect to hear on the news, or in the underbelly of the city where crime festers unchecked. A name spoken with a mix of fear and reverence, as if he was more myth than man.

And yet, despite knowing nothing about him beyond what you've learned in the last 5 minutes of the broadcast, the sight of him on your TV—towering, masked,—hits you in a way you hadn’t anticipated. Intrigue coils in your stomach, but you can’t fight the way he unsettles you.

He’s been arrested. The news anchor’s voice carries the weight of the revelation, the story intensifying with every word. After years on the run, the law has finally caught up with him. Ghost—a ghost no longer—is now locked away in the High-Security Unit of Belmarsh, one of southeast London’s most formidable prisons, home to terrorists, murderers, and just the worst of the worst.

You stare at the screen, the words sinking in as you take another slow bite of your PB&J. There’s a strange sort of chill that runs through you, not from familiarity but from the sheer presence of the large man on the screen, as if he’s in the very room you’re sitting in. The news anchor’s voice drones on, but you’re already lost in thought.

You think back to Vets Club, remembering how the club would sometimes send letters to other people—petty criminals who were locked up for minor counts of drug possession, vandalism, or shoplifting. Stupid shit. At first, it seemed odd, but the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. Why not offer a little kindness to anyone that needs a pick-me-up? They didn’t have to be war heroes.

As long as they didn’t kill anyone—or anything.

So just like the veterans, you guys would send letters. And just like the veterans, you'd sometimes get a reply, a genuine thank you, as if the fact that someone cared enough to reach out made a difference. It was just about being human, about showing some kindness when so much of the world felt cold.

You never wrote to someone like Ghost before. Not someone so... bad. Not someone whose reputation is so undeniably, explicitly rotten. Someone who, many would argue, is explicitly undeserving of such kindness.

You snap back to reality, and his figure dominates the screen—broad shoulders, large muscles even under the clothing, the kind of man who demands attention. The CCTV footage is grainy, a mere screen capture from a longer video plastered on the TV for your viewing pleasure

His face is masked with a skull-patterned balaclava, the fabric stretched taut over his facial features, distorting the skeletal design just enough to make it seem like the grinning visage is shifting with every movement, angular lines that give him an almost inhuman quality—like a wraith lurking in the dark.

He’s swathed in black from head to toe, the fabric of his dark jacket and and even darker pants absorbing the dim light, making him one with the shadows that cling to every surface around him. Each step is silent, calculated, his presence more of a feeling than a sight—an omen in the periphery, waiting.

It’s strangely captivating, the way he looms, the way the static buzz of the television makes it feel like he could crawl through the screen at any second, like that stupid Ring movie. You sort of wish he would.

His image lingers, burned into the LEDs of your TV, burned into your mind. You’re not sure why it catches you the way it does, but you can’t look away. Something about him—his sheer presence, even through a screen—snags at your curiosity like a loose thread begging to be pulled, a sweater unfurled into a heap of yarn. God you’re so lonely.

Your mind drifts as your fingers move almost instinctively. A few quick Google searches lead you down a steep rabbit hole, a litany of news reports covering crimes that stretch back years. No one has seemed to figure out his real name, no verifiable background. Alleged military ties, some say, possibly ex-special forces. Others insist he was born into the criminal underworld, raised by it, shaped by it, an enforcer forged in violence.

Though nothing could be determined for sure, most of the reports agree on one thing for certain: he was methodical, precise, and had an undeniable dedication and passion for his craft. You presumed that’s what made him a terrorist-level threat.

Then you stumble upon another fact—and you pause. Belmarsh Prison, his current home, isn’t even that far. Just a thirty-minute drive from your flat.

That should be alarming, but the thought sinks in your mind like a stone dropped into a well. For a second, the dull, predictable rhythm of your life feels disrupted—a ripple in reality, as if you've slipped into some parallel version of your life, one that isn’t just last night’s leftovers and tomorrow's 10-hour shift.

For the first time in a long while, you feel a flicker of excitement. It makes your life feel a little less dull, like something unexpected, something outside the ordinary routine, has just entered your world. Maybe you could write him a letter—

—No. What the fuck? That’s insane. He’s killed people, and you want to send him a letter?

…

You decide to send him a letter.

It’s not like you’re his number one fan—or a fan at all, for that matter. Plus, the chances of him even reading it are slim to none, he’s probably buried under piles of letters that sound just like the ones you used to write, if not worse.

It’s just a letter. You’re not looking for anything in return. You’ll write to him, then move on, because why not? It’s not about trying to change him or sympathizing with him, it’s just... kindness.

Your half-eaten sandwich is abandoned on the coffee table, forgotten the moment the thought takes root. You push yourself up from the couch. The floor is cold beneath your feet as you move down the narrow hall and toward your bedroom, each step fueled by something you don’t care to name—excitement, recklessness, boredom, maybe all three twisted together.

Your bedroom is dim and poorly lit by your bedside lamp. The air feels alive, the window cracked open, allowing the evening breeze to slip through and blow through the room. The curtains sway with it, shifting shadows across the walls, fleeting and fluid, much like the thoughts in mind.

You reach for an old journal tucked away in your bedside table, its spine softened by years of thumbing through its pages. The cover, once smooth, is now rough with wear, smudged with time and old ink stains. As you flip through, the pages crackle—thin, fragile things filled with half-formed ideas and late-night ramblings from high school.

You find a blank page and grab a pen from the bedside table, its weight familiar, and grounding, and shift into a cross-legged seat on your bed. The mattress dips beneath you, the duvet stretching with the movement.

For a moment, you hesitate. What do you even say to someone like him?

You reason with yourself that if he’s unlikely to even read the letter, then it doesn’t matter. You don’t expect anything to come of it, but the thought of sending a message feels like the most fun you’ve had in years.

You press the pen to the paper.

‘Dear Big Bad Ghost,’

A quiet giggle escapes you at that, the kind that bubbles up when you know you’re doing something absolutely stupid. But really, what’s the harm? You have nothing to lose, no reputation at stake, and no consequences beyond a letter that will likely end up thrown in a trashcan. You might as well have some fun with it. A little tongue-in-cheek humor never hurt anyone.

Your pen glides across the paper, words spilling faster than you can second-guess them. You tell him how you found out about him, how you saw his face flash across your TV screen, how his name is spoken like an urban legend on the news channels. And—because there’s no point in pretending otherwise—you admit the truth outright: you thought he was hot, because—let’s be honest—you wouldn’t be doing something this rash if he wasn’t (you make sure to write that, too).

You just keep going. You tell him you’re 24, impossibly lonely and still a virgin, stuck working at Tesco with the worst coworkers possible, with little excitement in your life. You’re sure you’ve painted yourself as painfully average, definitely the most boring woman on the planet, though you wonder if that in itself might intrigue him. Or maybe he won’t care at all. Either way, the words are already there, ink drying on the page.

You tell him that if this were happening back in the States, they’d have slapped him with a RICO charge so fast he’d get whiplash—but lucky for him, he’s dealing with the UK’s legal system instead. A small mercy, though not much of one.

Your pen barely lifts from the paper as you continue. If he ever gets out, you tell him, your door is open for a ‘good time’. You underline it for emphasis, like a wink through the page, though you’re quick to add that, realistically, you’re sure he’ll be locked up for life.

Still, you suppose, even the worst criminals must get bored. Maybe he’ll want a pen pal to entertain him for the rest of his days.

You sit back, tapping the pen against your chin as you reread the letter. It’s ridiculous, a tad insane, but the thrill of it makes your stomach buzz. Some prison guard will probably skim it, roll their eyes, and toss it straight into the bin.

But still…

You scrawl your name at the bottom and the moment the ink dries, you tear the page from your journal, fold it neatly, and slide it into an envelope. You write your address in the return section. Just in case. Your fingers hesitate at the edge, but before second thoughts can creep in, you lick the edges, the bitter taste making you wince and seal it shut.

Next thing you know, you’re sliding on some slippers, unlocking the front door, and stepping into the cool night air. The mailbox is just a few paces from your front door. The world has gone to sleep for tonight.

You reach the rusted blue box, heart hammering as you pull open the slot. The envelope feels heavier now like it carries more weight than it should. You hover there for a second longer than necessary, gripping the paper between your fingers.

And then you let it go. It’s chilling how easy it is.

The past two weeks have passed in a blur of work, exhaustion, and the crushing weight of an uninspired routine. You’ve long since moved on from the letter. You’ve nearly forgotten about it entirely. Life doesn’t give you much room to dwell on dumb things like that—not when you spend your days dodging entitled customers and biting back the urge to commit minor acts of violence in the break room.

Today was particularly brutal. Some guy spent ten minutes arguing with you over a 5 quid price difference like it was a matter of life and death. A toddler managed to knock over an entire display of crisps while her mom scrolled through Instagram, blissfully unaware. By the time your shift ended, you felt like you’d been put through a meat grinder and then asked to clock out with a smile.

Rush hour on the train only adds insult to injury. Someone sneezes directly onto the back of your neck. Another person else eats an offensively pungent egg sandwich within arm’s reach. You spend the entire ride back gripping the overhead rail and wondering why you ever thought adulthood would be anything more than a slow, soul-draining trudge toward the grave.

By the time you finally get home, your body aches with exhaustion that seeps into your bones. You kick off your shoes, chuck your bag onto the floor, and drag yourself toward the kitchen. There’s no energy left in you for cooking, so you grab some leftover takeout from the fridge and toss it into the microwave, staring blankly at the rotating container as it whirs to life. No, it’s not the same takeout from two weeks ago.

You settle onto the couch with your dinner, flicking through the limited selection of channels. With an eye roll, you settle on the news once more, just as a reporter’s voice cuts in, crisp and professional.

At first, you’re barely paying attention, too focused on shoveling lukewarm noodles into your mouth. But then—

BREAKING NEWS: MASS PRISON RIOT ENSUES AT BELMARSH – GHOST AT LARGE

The bold red banner streaks across the screen, sharp and urgent. Your fork stalls midway to your mouth, noodles slipping off the prongs and back into the container as your brain struggles to catch up.

The news anchor doesn’t miss a beat, her voice steady, polished, and edged with just the right amount of alarm:

“Authorities have confirmed a large-scale riot at Belmarsh Prison earlier this evening, resulting in multiple casualties and the escape of several high-profile inmates—including ‘Ghost’, who was awaiting trial for dozens of indictable offenses.”

Your stomach tightens.

Ghost might be on your doorstep and London might look like Gotham, all before dawn even breaks tomorrow.

For a moment, you simply sit there, absorbing the weight of it. You should probably be more concerned. Probably get up, lock the doors, check your windows, and maybe even send a half-hearted text to your parents that, no, you haven’t been stabbed or kidnapped yet.

After a few more seconds you wisen up, mentally slapping yourself. Super-Mega-Criminal-Ghost has bigger problems than tracking down a random girl who sent him one dumb letter out of the hundreds you’re sure he’s gotten. You’re not special. You’re not even remotely relevant in this situation.

Your eyes lock onto the screen as aerial footage of Belmarsh fills the frame. The prison looks like something out of a videogame—thick plumes of smoke curling into the night sky, roaring flames illuminating figures in riot gear as they swarm the perimeter, floodlights sweeping across the wreckage of what was, until hours ago, one of the most secure facilities in the country. Sirens wail in the background.

Somewhere in that chaos, a man you sent a letter to—that more closely resembled a dating profile— has vanished into thin air.

You exhale, exhausted and too tired to brood on it further. Even if he did show up and break down your door, you’re sure your life couldn’t get worse, so you decide to ignore the news and reach for the remote. With a press of a button, the world of reports and fear-mongering headlines is cut off and replaced by the manufactured warmth of a sitcom.

The studio audience laughs on cue.

You force yourself to eat, to go through the motions. Take small, measured bites, as if chewing will somehow settle the restless feeling creeping up your spine.

It doesn’t.

When you finish the sad lump of noodles, you head to the kitchen. Dishes clink as you rinse them, your mind half-present as your body moves on autopilot.

By the time you’ve cleaned up, the tension in your body has quieted. You tell yourself it’s fine. You’re fine. It’s just another night with one more thing to add to the ever-growing list of reasons why this city is exhausting.

You make your way to the bathroom with a sigh, shutting the door behind you. The day clings to your skin, heavy and lingering, but the promise of hot water is enough to shake off the worst of it.

You twist the shower knob. Pipes groan, then sputter, before a steady stream rushes out. You strip down, kicking your dirty clothes into the corner as steam billows, curling against the mirror until your reflection blurs.

After testing the water with your hand, you step in, a sharp inhale slipping past your lips as the warmth crashes over you. It seeps into your muscles, loosening tension you hadn’t even realized you were still holding. You tilt your head back, eyes fluttering shut as you let it pour over you.

Your body moves through the motions on autopilot. Shampoo, scrubbed into your scalp. Conditioner, combed through the ends with your fingers. The buy-one-get-one soap glides over your skin, the scent of cheap vanilla and pomegranate thick in the humid air, mingling with the steam that cocoons you. You carefully shave where necessary before the water washes everything away.

You finish your shower, stepping out into the warm fog of steam clinging to the bathroom walls. You take your towel off the hook and drag it over your skin, patting your hair just enough to keep it from dripping but not enough to fully dry it.

Right now, all you want is to crawl into bed and pretend this night is just like any other, despite the very real fact that the London Bridge might actually go down overnight.

You don’t bother wrapping the towel around yourself. There’s no point. It’s just you here—always, unfortunately, just you. As much as you wish that wasn’t the case, there’s no reason to pretend otherwise.

Pushing open the bathroom door, steam rushes past you, rolling into the hallway like a ghost of its own. The air is cooler than usual, biting at your damp skin. A shiver rolls through you, goosebumps prickling to life as you clutch the towel tighter around yourself.

You move quickly, bare feet padding against the floor, the cool air chasing you down the hall. You shake it off, the shower was especially hot today, after all.

Once inside your bedroom, you flick on the small lamp on your bedside table. The weak glow struggles against the shadows, barely illuminating the room beyond a soft, feeble pool of light. You sigh, staring at it for a moment. You really should invest in another one, something stronger, something that does its job—but the thought of subjecting yourself to the blinding glare of overhead lighting is unbearable.

The usual cool breeze from the window rolls in and whisks against your skin as you stand in front of the large mirror sitting atop your dresser, as naked as the day you were born. You absentmindedly rub lotion onto your arms and legs, the smooth cream sinking into your skin with satisfying ease, a small act of self-care amidst the shit-show of your life. You swipe on some deodorant, a miscellaneous powdery scent briefly masking the other smells that linger in your room.

You pull open the top drawer, fingers brushing past folded fabric until you find a pair of plain black no-show panties. The material is soft between your fingertips.

You hook your thumbs into the waistband, bending slightly as you slide the fabric up your legs, smooth against your skin. It settles high on your hips, snug and familiar.

But as you straighten, the air feels different.

Your breath stalls, a tight, involuntary hitch in your throat. A prickle skates down your spine, the hairs on the back of your neck rising, your body sensing the shift before your mind can grasp it. Then comes the scent. Subtle quickly shifts to suffocating.

Ash, woody and bitter like a lonely bonfire.

Gunpowder, metallic and pungent like a shrill war cry.

And beneath it all, something brutally masculine. Utterly tart, like blood welling on your tongue, bitter, metallic, yet impossible to spit out so you’re forced to swallow.

You’re still facing the mirror, bare skin gleaming under the dim light, damp where the shower’s heat still lingers. Your reflection is all soft curves and slow, steady breaths, the delicate contrast of black fabric against your skin.

But you’re not looking at yourself anymore.

Your eyes are locked onto something else. Someone else.

Over your right shoulder, a hulking figure sits backward in your desk chair, big, long legs spread on either side, the heavy, shadowy outline of him filling the space behind you. His presence is so sudden, so jarring, that it takes you a moment to even process it. From what you can make out, he is facing you, arms crossed over the backrest like he owns the room.

You’re frozen, trapped in your own body, your mind a tangled mess of confusion and fear. You scramble to process how this could even be happening. Your eyes dart to the window over your left shoulder in the reflection, the wind howling on cue as if to mock you.

Your window is violently wrenched ajar, and suddenly, the drop in temperature makes sense. That’s what you felt earlier—the sudden chill that wrapped around you the second you stepped out of the bathroom. How you didn’t feel it moments ago is beyond you.

Your heart pounds in your ears, a brutal thundering that mutes the voice in your head telling you to run, single-handedly hijacking every morsel of reason you possess. Each beat is so violent, that you think you can feel your ribs splintering, cracking to make room.

You can’t help but stare at yourself, standing there, exposed and utterly vulnerable, tits perked and on display like it’s time for Sunday dinner. But it’s impossible to make yourself move. Your feet feel like cinder blocks.

Your eyes flick back to him.

He hasn’t moved. Not an inch. A statue of flesh and shadow, his towering frame swallowing the space behind you. Your breath stutters as your gaze collides with his—an accident, a mistake. Dark eyes, barely visible, catch the light as he leans in, closer, closer still.

You regret it instantly. Your stomach flips, twisting in on itself as something molten ignites deep inside you. Butterflies—you’re sure—but they feel wrong, tainted, clawing their way up your throat, wings drenched in bile, desperate to break free.

He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t even breathe.

Just silen—

“Shouldn’t’ve given a dog a bone, Girl.”

Oh.

Shit.

You swallow, the motion sharp and dry, as your eyes fixate on the sliver of him that the mirror allows you to see. Your tongue feels like it’s too big for your mouth, thick and clumsy, but it's not just that—it’s as though it’s been wrung dry like you’ve forgotten how to speak, how to make any sound at all.

Could be fight, could be flight—or could be sheer, reckless stupidity. Superficial courage floods your veins, burning hot and impulsive. You don’t know where it comes from, only that it’s there, forcing you to turn, to face him, not through the mirror’s reflection but for real, head-on. Your body obeys even as your mind screams to stop, to run, to do anything but face the giant sitting in the chair behind you. It must be adrenaline.

You pivot, and the room changes. It warps.

He fills the room—dominates it—far more than four walls should ever allow, and far more than your traitorous mirror portrayed. His frame is more ape than human, more God than man, every inch of him radiating undomesticated power that seems to bend the very air around him like a mirage.

He’s dressed in grey, prison-issued sweatpants, the soft fabric taut over his thick, spread thighs. A matching grey sweatshirt is tied around his waist, a small, white wife-beater stretched across his chest. The fabric strains against the thickness of his body, pecs beneath like boulders, barely contained by the threadbare material. The shirt looks as though it might snap under the sheer pressure of him.

It almost seems pointless for him to wear it.

A sick part of you wishes he didn’t.

Around his neck, a set of dog tags dangles, the metal catching the light as it sways in rhythm with his slow, steady breaths. His arms are a canvas of dark ink—twisting amalgamations of war and death, flames and ruin etched into his skin. The same balaclava you’ve seen on your screen stretches over his face, but it feels even more menacing now.

His eyes—dark brown, nearly black—burn as they lock onto you. There’s an eerie glow to them, a depth that makes your stomach twist. You can barely make out their full shape, but you feel the weight of his gaze, the way it maps your body with an intensity that singes. He’s memorizing you, branding you into his mind, scorching every visible inch of your skin just by looking.

Which, right now, is essentially all of it.

It’s suffocating, and overwhelming. The space around you seems to shrink, the walls pressing inward, forcing you to feel the heft of his presence. Your bubble, your safe little world, vanishes, replaced by the oppressive weight of him, his sheer size and power making the room feel like a part of a dollhouse, too small to contain him. Every breath feels harder to take like you’re drowning, and he’s the rip current that dragged you out from shore and pushed you under.

And then, as if sensing your every thought, as if aware of your discomfort and your disbelief, he shifts. Just a subtle movement at first. But a shift is all it takes before he’s not sitting anymore.

Your breath catches in your throat, as he slowly rises from the chair, taking up even more of the room, shadow growing longer in his wake, his muscles rippling in the lamplight. He doesn’t rush. No, there’s no need. He moves, each large step bringing him closer to you.

All that ‘courage’ drained. You never thought you’d be the frozen-in-fear type, but here you are, your body stiff and uncooperative as you look up at him. Your neck cranes back further and further, unwillingly following as he stalks toward you, each step near imperceptible to the ear. At least you know why you didn’t hear him come in.

You’re backed flush against your dresser, your breath coming in shallow gasps, your chest tight with panic, but you can’t look away. You don’t even know if you want to. There’s a strange magnetism to him, something almost predatory in the way he moves, so controlled, so sure.

It’s addicting.

Your thighs clench together at the internal acceptance, a small attempt at some kind of control over the sick part of your brain that’s turned on by this.

“Quiet little thing.” His voice is low, gravelly like it’s been rubbed raw, but there’s a hint of amusement in it, a wicked edge that makes your skin prickle and your cunt gush. He takes another step closer, a mere foot away, the distance between you is agonizing. “Glad you’re not a screamer.”

He pauses just in front of you, towering over you. The weight of his gaze chokes you like a noose. He doesn’t miss when your thighs clench. You could have sworn you saw the flicker of a smile beneath the balaclava, though it’s hard to tell.

“I’m not gonna bite, Girl,” he tuts, “unless y’want me to.”

The way he says it—so carnivorously—sends a jolt of electricity down your spine, a hot flush of pure shame of pooling low in your stomach. You're still frozen, unsure whether you should respond, run, or drop to your knees.

“Y’sent me a letter,” he continues, his voice softening just slightly as his eyes flick to your tits like he’s checking out a new appliance.

“Tellin’ me all about your boring little life,” He steps even closer, “And that sweet little cunt, untouched like you want me t’make it mine.”

You try to speak, but only your mouth moves, your vocal cords too dry, too hoarse, and your throat constricted. He notices. The slight twitch of his lips like he’s enjoying how utterly speechless you are, how dumb you look.

“Y’want me t’make it mine? Hmm? That why you gave a ‘Big Bad’ man your address?”

You swallow in an attempt to lubricate your throat, but it’s futile. Is this what you were subconsciously hoping for when you wrote down which street you lived on and your apartment number? Did you want this? Were you that lonely—that desperate?

“Can y’imagine how hard I came,” he leans over you, his breath hot against your ear, you feel it through the mask, “How I rubbed my cock raw to the thought of some dumb virgin with the audacity of a dozen slags?”

Yeah. You were that desperate.

You nearly whimper at the way he talks to you. You finally manage to take a breath, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I— I didn’t think you’d—”

He cocks his head slightly as if considering your words “What? Didn’t think I’d show?” he repeats, dragging the words out slowly, a smirk curling at the edges of his lips as if he’s savoring the mockery in them. “You invited me here. It’d be rude to reject such a generous offer.”

You bite back a scoff. As if he’s so gracious, breaking into your house and cornering you while you’re naked. Talk about audacity.

“Go fuck yourself.”

“I have,” he shoots back, shrugging almost imperceptibly as his hands find your hips, tracing the fabric of your panties, eyes darkening at the way your mons dimples beneath his thumbs. “Won’t be as good as her.”

Your pulse spikes, a mix of anger and something darker curling in your chest. You should shove him away, scream at him to get out, but his hands are so warm when they hold you. The proximity of his body has you paralyzed, his hands still firm on your hips, as if to remind you that he can have his way with you at a moment’s notice.

You open your mouth to speak, but his hand moves higher, wrapping around your waist, while the other slides down to grip your ass, pulling you against him with a force that leaves no space between your bodies. The words die in your throat as your tits collide with his stomach and your cheek presses into his chest, the hard beat of his heart thudding beneath your ear, as he holds you there, pinning you in some weird, bone-crushing hug.

He smells like soap and something musky and everything you’d expect a fugitive to smell like, like cigarette ash and a smidge of gunpowder. It makes your pulse stutter, like a drug you didn’t know you were addicted to. You can’t help but melt into his strong frame despite your brain screaming at you to push him away.

“Y’feel that, sweetheart?” he hums, his hand kneading the fat of your ass, pressing his bulge against your pelvis through his sweatpants. “Ever felt a cock that big before?”

“Please,” you whisper, the plea a stark contrast to the defiance you try to muster. Your body trembles, a mix of fear and blistering heat. “Just... don't.”

He chuckles, a low, mocking sound. “Don't what, sweetheart?” he murmurs, his fingers rising from your ass to trace the delicate line of your throat. “Don't touch you? Don't remind you of what y’are?”

He tips your head up to his as you flinch at his words, the truth of them cutting deeper than any physical blow. “I…” you stammer, faltering as you meet his dark hazel eyes.

“Virgin,” he deadpans as he grips your chin between his digits, “Y’terrified. It's written all over your face, baby” He coos condescendingly, eyes scanning your body, lingering on the cute flush in your cheeks, “Curious, too, aren't you? Wondering what it would be like.”

You swallow hard, eyes flicking away from his. “No,” you lie, the denial weak and utterly unconvincing.

He lets out a low, exasperated grunt, like you’re testing his patience, like this is tedious for him. And then, without warning, his hands clamp around your thighs, lifting you effortlessly before settling you atop the dresser. His grip is firm as he pushes your legs apart, spreading them as far as they’ll go to make room for himself. The wood is cold against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from him, from the rough drag of his palms as they find purchase on the soft flesh of your thighs, from where he dips his head to your throat.

“Don’t fuckin’ lie to me, sweetheart,” You don’t know when he pulled his mask up, but you can feel his canines graze against your jugular, making you wince. He crowds your space, forcing you to tilt back until you’re leaning against the mirror, until there’s nowhere to go. You can feel his lips twitch against the skin of your neck, the ghost of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“I can smell your cunt.” He licks a fat, hot stripe from your collarbone, past your jaw, and to your cheek, all before growling in your ear, “She’s droolin’ f’me, ain’t she? Gonna give me a taste o' her?”

Your eyebrows knit at the feel of his tongue slobbering all over you. Your breath hitches, and you can’t help but tremble. You can feel your panties sticking to your folds, but you’ve never been this wet before. “I... I don't know,” you whimpered, overwhelmed by everything he was making you feel.

“Don't know? Please,” he scoffs, his voice thick with disdain. Without any hesitation, both of his hands find the gusset of your panties, balling them before ripping them in half. You yelp as they fall and settle against the dresser top. “Awh. Look at that,” he gets to his knees, thumbs spreading your glistening folds. “She's leakin’ onto my hand." He chuckles as he stares at the dampness between your legs.

He lunges forward, his mouth latching to your pussy like it promised him a million dollars. A strangled moan rips through you as his tongue swirls and plunges into your weeping hole, mimicking the thrusts he intends to deliver later. He laps and nips, teeth gently but fervently grazing your clit, sending shivers of both pleasure and terror through your body.

Your head jerks back, waves of pleasure that have you gasping for air. His tongue works you in ways that should be illegal. You cling to the edge of the dresser, your knuckles turning white as he buries his face in you. You peer down at him as he eats you, his mask pulled over his nose.

“Whinin’ already?” he growls, his voice muffled against your cunt. He sucks harder, reveling in the way you arch your back and press your hips into his face. “Like a bitch in heat.” Your hands find his head and he suckles at your clit harder, eliciting a string of please, please, please’s from you.

“Beg for it,” he commands, “Beg to come on m’tongue, baby.”

“Yes,” you choked out in a gasp, the word a desperate plea lost in a wave of overwhelming sensation. Your body thrums with frantic energy, every nerve ending firing in a symphony as you desperately claw at his balaclava, nearly smothering him. “Please,” you beg, your voice thick with need. “Please, I— ‘m—”

He pulls away from you, gasping for air. His eyes find yours and he lands a firm slap to your cunt, making you jolt. “Tell me,” he hisses. “Tell me y’want to come for me.”

“I... I want to,” you gasped, your body trembling on the verge of collapse. “I wanna come for you, Ghost— Please—.”

“Good fuckin’ whore,” he slaps your cunt again, before diving back in, his hot tongue carding through your folds. He slips his ring and middle finger into your hole and you wail as he massages your g-spot. He slobbers on your clit, wet squelches echoing through the room as you feel the coil tightening in your belly. “Come, let me taste this slutty fuckin’ pussy.”

A strangled cry rips through you as the pleasure reaches its peak, a blinding wave of sensation that absolutely shatters your control. You convulse around him and he has to hold you still, pinning your hips down as your muscles clench and release in a series of involuntary spasms that make up the best orgasm of your life. Hot, thick spurts of cum flood his mouth as you croak out a broken string of curses and moans.

He laps at you unhurriedly, savoring the taste, the feel of your release coating his tongue. “Fuck,” he moans, his voice rough with satisfaction. He pulls back, lips and chin glistening, and looks up at you with a smirk. “Love you virgins. Come so easily.”

Heat surges up your neck, pooling in your cheeks—a traitorous flush of shame that only worsens when you try to press your legs together. You didn’t think it would affect you like this, didn’t think you’d feel a spark of something twisted at being called the most horrific of names.

Your gaze darts away from his, unable to withstand the weight of it. Your hands move on instinct, a feeble attempt to shield yourself, to reclaim some sense of control. “Stop staring,” you whisper, not used to having eyes on you. But even to your own ears, it sounds weak—like a plea rather than a command.

He chuckles, a low, mocking sound as he rises to his feet, pressing his massive bulge against your bare cunt. “Stop what? Admiring my handiwork?” He reaches out, his fingers tracing the curve of your cheek before harshly squishing them between his index and thumb, your lips puckering. “Don't be shy, sweetheart. You should feel lucky. Could’ve ruined this pretty fuckin’ mouth instead.”

You bite your lip at the thought of taking him in your mouth, stretching your throat and making you gag. He was so big, would stretch your pussy so good and you know it. He could give you what you’ve been wanting, what you’ve been needing. Tears prickle your eyes as you recover from your orgasm. “Just... fuck me, Please…?” you hum, unsure..

He grins, briefly flashing his teeth in the dim light. “Eager, are we?” He straightens, pulling you by your knees to stand on your feet. “Don't worry. Got more in store for you.”

He hauls you off of your dresser and toward your bed without much effort. Your legs feel like jelly and you trip over yourself, falling back onto the mattress, your body bouncing with the impact. He chuckles as he moves toward you, looming over you, his eyes burning with lust at the sight of you all spread out beneath him.

He reaches for the hem of his wife beater and pulls it over his head, tossing it aside without care, not bothering to take off his balaclava. You drag your gaze over his broad torso, taking in every inch as he stands before you. His muscles shift beneath scarred skin, every ridge and plane carved by years of violence you can’t even begin to imagine. Scars that have scars, bright pink wounds closed over. His dog tags rest between his pecs, gleaming dully against the heat of him.

Your eyes trail lower, catching on the unmistakable wet patch darkening his sweatpants, a frighteningly long outline of his hard cock to accompany it. He watches you closely as your gaze traces the contours of his body, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"Like what you see, Girl?" His voice is low, thick with a dark amusement. It’s rhetorical, he knows you do. Without breaking eye contact, he slides his fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants and pulls them down, revealing his length with a singular motion.

No underwear. A Right dog, he is.

Your breath hitches, a gasp trapped in your throat as you take in the full view. His cock is thick and heavy. A brutal, veined length that periodically twitches every time his gaze drops to your sodden cunt. A thatch of dark, dirty blonde hair frames its base, leading up to his navel. The uncircumcised head glistens in the lamplight, a single drop of pre drooling from his tip. You wish you could flick your tongue against it, gulping down every ounce of his slick he’d be willing to let you swallow.

“What’d y’want?”

You can't form the words, your mind blank, throat tight with a mix of fear and anticipation, the air heavy with implicit tension and the scent of sex.

How could he even fit inside of you?

You just dumbly nod in response to whatever he said. Meek, almost imperceptible.

He tuts, “Noddin’ ain’t enough, sweets,” he growled. “You’re a big girl, ain’t you?

“I…” you stammer, your cheeks burning with shame at saying something so lewd out loud. “I want…”

“Say it,” he taunts as he takes his cock in his hands, pumping slowly. His voice is like thunder, a low, dangerous rumble. “Say y’want this cock.”

“I... I want your cock,” you whisper, the words barely audible. You’re too focused on the way his pre drips onto your spread pussy.

“Louder,” he demands, landing a firm slap against your clit. “Can't hear you.”

“I want your cock,” you enunciated, your voice a little stronger this time.

“Louder, y’fuckin’ slag—”

“I want your fucking cock!” you shout, the words echoing through the room.

He shrugs and a satisfied smirk spreads across his face. “Geez, all y’had to do was ask.”

You could slap him.

He positions himself between your legs, the bed dipping as he crawls closer to you. He takes your thighs in his hands, pressing them up to your chest. His knees dimple the duvet on either side of your hips, the ruddy head of his cock tracing the puffy folds of your entrance. Each time his tip grazes your clit, a tremor runs through your body.

“So fuckin’ sensitive,” he groans, “So wet f’me, too, Christ.”

He presses forward, your pussy stretching taut over his mushroomed tip. You wince, your eyebrows knitting in pain. He was huge, impossibly thick, and the feeling of him pushing against your sensitive flesh was both terrifying and exhilarating.

“Gonna split this cunny in half, girl,” he winces as you pulse around him. He draws tight circles on your clit and you’re reeling, choking on your own gasps, “gonna feel me in y’fuckin’ throat.”

He pushes himself deeper, inch by agonizing inch until he sheaths himself inside of you completely. Tears stream down your face, a mixture of pain and pleasure overwhelming you. You cry out at the stretch, your body arching into his as your hands search for anything to steady yourself, settling on the hard plains of his back.

“Jesus baby, so tight,” he grunts, stalled inside of you as he tries not to blow his load. “So fucking tight.”

You slowly loosen around him as you adapt to his size, but the burn still has you lightheaded. You've never been so full in your life. Your nails claw into his back, leaving raw streaks and crescent-shaped marks on his scarred skin. “Fuck me,” you rasp, “Please, Ghost, fuck me.” Your hips buck involuntarily as you babble, desperate for more of him.

He chuckles a low, guttural sound that you swear you can feel vibrating through your body. “Cock-drunk already, are we?” he taunts, “Fuckin’ whore,” He pulls back slightly before plunging forward with renewed force, cramming his cock against your cervix, hitting places you couldn’t even reach with your own fingers.

He was right. You could feel him everywhere, stretching you, filling you, owning you, utterly consuming you. Every thrust punched the air out of you, the rhythmic plap, plap, plap of his thighs meeting yours reverberating through the room as he fucked you.

“Fuck me harder, I need you— please—” You were so close already, worked up from your last orgasm and already teetering on the edge of another, the pleasure building each time the head of his cock strokes your g-spot. He picks up the pace with a groan and hammers into you, unable to breathe as his cock stretches you to your limits.

“Ghost,” you sob, fat tears falling from your eyes, wetting your cheeks before you can stop them. His name escapes your lips through hiccups, unable to think of anything except how full you feel, how you could’ve possibly missed out on this for so long.

He slaps your cheek, the sting is a sudden shock that jolts you back to the present. “Stop fuckin’ callin’ me that,” he snarls, his voice thick with pure sex and an edge of possessiveness, just lurking beneath his words. He leans directly over you, your legs pinned between his torso and yours. He groans before shrugging up his balaclava and licking your stray tears. You’re too deep in it to fully process, too consumed by the heat of the moment to care.

“Call me Simon when I fuck you,” he rasps against your lips,

“Say it.”

“S—Sim—on,” you mewl, your voice punctuated by each of his thrusts. “S—simon, p—ple—ase…”

“Please what?” he snarls, the head of his cock devastatingly rubbing your g-spot with each thrust, “Please fuck you harder? Please make you cream all over this cock?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you wail, your body writhing beneath him. “Please, Simon— Fuck!”

“Atta fuckin’ girl,” he praises through gritted teeth, and with renewed vigor, he fucks you harder, caging you in as he fucks you into the mattress, each stroke shoving you farther up the bed.

“Squeezin’ me so tight,” he rasps, “So fucking tight.” he gripped your thighs harder, the fat dimpling beneath his fingers, surely to bruise in the morning. He presses you further, painfully folded in half. “Feel me? Feel how deep I am inside o’ you?”

You gasp, your body trembling, heat pooling low in your belly, sparks shooting up your spine, “Yes,” you breathed, your voice a strained whisper. “Too much... it's so much, Si—”

You’re on the edge, pressure just building and tightening as your walls pulse around him, ready to milk him for all he’s worth. His hips stutter and he knows he’s done for. “Fuck, let go, Let it happen, pet,”

At his command, a raw, guttural cry tears from your throat, and a shattered echo of his name launches into the humid air. It isn’t much of a word, not really, but a primal sound, a desperate, broken exclamation born from the white-hot core of your pleasure.

Your back arches, lifting you off the bed, your spine a rigid curve against his. Your hips buck wildly against his, grinding and shuddering. The hot, slick rush of your release coats his cock. It spreads across his abdomen and your thighs as well, a glistening sheen in the dim light. Your breath hitches and ragged gasps escape your lips as the waves of pleasure wash over you.

The world narrows, focusing solely on the feel of his skin on your own as he still thrusts into you, telling you to “Cream this fuckin’ cock,” as he groans, just as lost in the pleasure as you. The aftershocks of your orgasm reverberate through you, leaving you trembling and weak as he fucks you through it to reach his own.

A series of breathy moans escape his lips in tandem with yours, each one a ragged exhale as his hips begin to twitch, thrusts growing sloppy as you pulse around him, energy rippling through his muscles as his own orgasm approaches.

“Oh-,” he breathes, his voice a low, jagged rasp, a guttural urging. “Fuck! Fuck— Shit, just like that, girl.” His hips slam against yours, a final, desperate thrust that presses him flush against your cunt. He spills inside you, a hot, thick tide of his cum flooding your cunt. Ropes of his seed paint your inner walls, as far as he can reach, marking you as his. A wave of heat pulses through you, the feeling of him filling you completely, claiming you from the inside out.

Eventually, the tremors die down, and he rolls off you, the sudden absence of his weight pinning you down leaving you feeling strangely hollow. Your thighs fall limply as he lets go of them, a strange ache that almost bothers you.

A low chuckle rumbles in his chest, a sound of contentment.

“Broken little bird aren’t you?” he drawls..

You lift your head to see him eye-level with your pussy, watching as his cum leaks out of you. You lay still, your body aching, your mind spinning. You want to protest, to deny his words and shut your legs, but you don’t think you could form a genuine sentence if you tried.

Not only did you (finally) lose your virginity, but you lost it to a criminal. That broke into your house.

He moves to sit next to your laid figure and reaches out, his fingers tracing the delicate curve of your jaw, his touch surprisingly gentle. “Don't look so glum, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice softening slightly. “You did well,”

“for a first-timer.”

A blush creeps up your neck, and you instinctively turn your face away, curling into yourself. “Shut up,” you mutter, your voice hoarse.

He lets out a low, husky chuckle. “Oh, usin’ fightin’ words now, are we?” His fingers find a stray strand of your hair, twisting it lazily between calloused fingertips. “Funny, didn’t see you puttin’ up much of a fight five minutes ag—”

You don’t let him finish. Grabbing a tousled pillow, you launch it at his face. It bounces off his head with a pathetic little thump. He snorts, catching it mid-air, the plush looking comically small in his massive hands.

“Oh, we’re throwin’ shit now?” He smirks, squeezing the poor thing for emphasis. “Little minx—”

The sudden blare of the doorbell slices through the moment. You both freeze.

His eyes flick toward the door, sharp and assessing, mood immediately changing. “You expectin’ anyone?”

You shake your head. “No.”

His jaw tightens. The weight of reality comes crashing back. He’s a fugitive, and did, in fact, break into your house.

“I’ll get it,” you hum, already moving.

He gives a slow nod, hungrily watching as you rummage through your dresser for something decent. You yank an oversized T-shirt over your head and grab the first pair of pants you can find, his sweats. They nearly slide right off your hips, the waistband hanging dangerously loose, but there’s no time to fix it.

You leave the bedroom, your pulse drumming in your ears as you make your way to the front door. The second you pull it open, your stomach drops.

Two cops.

Their faces are unreadable, their eyes scanning you, the dim space behind you, everything. “Evening, miss. Sorry to bother you, but we’re making the rounds,” one of them says, flashing a tight-lipped smile. “You seen anything suspicious? Anything out of the ordinary?”

Your fingers tighten around the doorframe. You think of Simon. His hands on your waist, the weight of him between your legs, the low rasp of his voice still ringing in your ears. But you swallow hard and shake your head.

“No, nothing,” you say, keeping your voice light, casual. “Why?”

The other officer exhales sharply, shifting his weight. “ Highly dangerous man on the loose. Escaped with the rest of those arseholes from Belmarsh. Last spotted in this area.” His gaze flicks past you again, scanning the dreary interior of your flat. “Figured we’d check in, see if anyone’s seen him.”

You school your face into something neutral, shaking your head again. “Haven’t seen anything lately, sorry to disappoint.”

They watch you for a second too long. You wonder if they can hear your heartbeat slamming against your ribs. But finally, they nod.

“All right. Just be careful, ma’am. Lock your doors.”

“Will do,” you say, forcing a tight-lipped smile of your own.

You shut the door.

Your heart is pounding. You press your back against the timber, exhaling sharply before pushing off and heading back to the bedroom.

“Simon—” you call, nudging the door open.

The bed is empty, sheets tangled, the ghost of his warmth already fading. The curtains billow, the night air slithering in, laced with the scent of him—sex, sweat, something else that’s so distinctly him.

He’s gone.

But ghosts always return to their haunt.

12K notes · View notes

tonycries · 2 months ago

Text

STUFFED.

Synopsis. How many inches until he can see his díck in you from the outside?

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, tummy buIges, cúmflation, cervíx kíssing, d imprints, fitting it, they’re BIG, PÚSSYDRÚNK MEN, matíng presses, dúmbification, p talking, spítting, Choso’s powers, cúmplay, headIlocks, marathons, bréeding, GOJO’S POWERS, creampíes, true form Sukuna, dp, overstím, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. Hope you have a lovely week <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - 9-inch nudge

“T-Toji–” Your loosened lips gloss over with a thin trickle of mindless drool, heart-filled eyes struggling to keep open and take a long look at the sight right below you. “What- what are you doing?”

Well, rendering you completely thoughtless with repeated thrashes of his vulgar inches is what.

And Toji Fushiguro would have tittered out those words just to see the way your features scrunch in cute irritation. He would have rolled his verdant eyes merely to feel your clingy grip around him tighten needily - but the man was busy right now.

Barely even straying his half-lidded gaze up at you - instead, he’s planting three smearing taps on your weeping slit. Stretching out his thickly-padded thumb and his index wiiide open to measure-

You’re heaving in murked clouds of breath, heedlessly counting eight- no, nine inches through glassy eyes. “What are you even hah- m-measuring?”

“Tch, y’know.” Pinkish tongue darting out drivel along his jagged scar - that’s all it takes for you to know that you were in for it. “Jus’ how deeply m’gonna make that cute tummy bulge w’me, doll.”

Oh.

Just those simple words were enough for your straining thighs to tremble with yet another sheeny geyser of syrupy slick. Lathering Toji’s bulky base with all sorts of velvety droplets that make him groan, flicking over a calloused thumb to tease your pussy into making an even bigger mess.

“Oho?” He’s raising one brow, pressing on the perked button of your clit and making your head tumble back with a keen. Thumbing wet little writings of his name on it over n’ over, “Ya liked that, huh? The i-idea of me ngh makin’ a mark from the inside? Filthy giiirl, ‘course ya did.”

“M-me?” And you don’t know just how cockdrunken you are at this point to think that bickering with a sultry, taunting Toji would do any good. But, hey, he always did love a feisty woman. And the way your lower lip wobbles into a pout as you huff and puff makes his swollen cock stretch your muggy walls only wider, “You’re the one hah- m-measuring and- and talking about a bulge-”

“-and m’dead fucking serious.” Toji’s willowy eyes narrow, ravenous gaze hidden away by a curtain of long lashes and inky bangs. But you still feel your heart race at his utter intensity, “Lemme show ya, ma.”

He was serious - he is.

In less than it takes your dewy pussylips to throb with a depraved ba-dump–! Toji’s clawing down one engulfing hand right onto the perspired crown of your head. Warm skin meeting your tizzy head harshly.

Snarling his sleazy grin up at you with a slight snicker, before flexing his mouth-watering biceps and pushing- “Stretch. F-fucking stretch now-”

“Fuh-fuuuck–” Your eyes leak steady rivulets of tears at the sheerly raw reach, the way he didn’t even have to try to swab milky gumdrops of pre at your innermost orifices. Fucking you open with just the gluey scour of his bawling tip trying urgently to fit inside, “Fuck me- fuck me, Toji–”

“S’what m’ ah- doing, silly girl.” Now, he’s rolling his eyes once your jiggling ass perches on the solidly full curve of his breeder balls and squirms. “So be my good fuckin’ girl and t-take it.”

And it’s all that you can do.

Bowing your spine into the perfect semi-circle curvature to angle your hips even deeper. Jittery thighs gyrating against Toji’s toned obliques with every striking pap! he skids viciously against your goopy depths. It was maddening, and you’re finding yourself latching precariously onto his voluptuous deltoids to try and regain some semblance of balance - and your sanity.

Flinching slightly once he tilts your hips to let off a particularly harsh grind against that magical spot. You’re whimpering through deliriously crossed-eyes, “There- ah!”

“Yeahhh, fuckin’ knew it-” Comes the husky answer, mean. And then an even meaner set of pounds that batter and bruise your tenderest spots precisely with each minute motion. You feel Toji curl one massive palm on the delicious curve of your waist before leaning you back, back, back- “-can see it.”

See it?

“What-” You’re gasping once you angle your head just enough to sneak a few glimpses below at where Toji was feeding your pretty pussy with his veined girth. In and out.

Because right then and there - etched exactly onto the middle of your tummy - was a cylindrical bulge. Pushing past your fleshed mounds n’ edges to carve out a deeply scouring indent. Spearheading into you with each soppy plap! of Toji’s glissading body.

Long. Girthy.

And you didn’t know if you were just that stupidly cockdrunken but you swear you could even count every single throb of Toji’s furiously hard cock meshing it’s way through your pried insides.

He’s holding those rudely measuring fingers up once more, ranging from the slobbery ends of your slit all the way up to where you’re feeling his painfully hard shaft plant pretty pecks on your pussy. Eyes widening briefly, “Oh? S’even hngh- bigger than I predicted.”

Sloppy. Painting sloshing streams of precum and nudging you oh-so-full with his scorching length until you were sure you could feel his bloated circumference brand your rubbery cervix. Until you could almost taste his salted caramel with every blissful explosion on your tastebuds.

So much. Too much. “More. Want- need more–”

“Shhhh sh sh, that’s it- Cry your lil’ heart out, ma.” Toji’s humming out gutturally, free hand gliding upwards to smear away your spilling salivation. Nodding along with every sweet noise you make when his split-ended cock thrusts inside your hot core, “Thaaat’s it, that’s a good girl- Look at you all hck! stuffed until you’re about to explode. Cute.”

“Ngh- it- you’re so deep.” You’re mewling out, viscous globs of slick slipping and sliding down Toji’s length until your fattened clit coasts easily across those very same puddles.

And you could feel him and every ballooned-up vein of his raking around your gummy walls. You could feel the bumpy outline of him bludgeoning past your saturated folds.

“Yeahhh, s’a biiig fuckin’ s-stretch, isn’t it?” He’s gruffing out with a few playful spanks to your drooling pussylips, as if you weren’t already being fucked dumb. Instantaneously guiding your hand to caress the rollercoaster messing up your insides - reclining right over the contour of where his globular tip plummets into your g-spot with a thunk!

“Here’s where ya won’t stop ah- drooling.” He twiddles your sensory fingertips to brush against your sensitive folds, showering in a generous heap of your sappy juices. “Like a f-fuckin’ ocean, I swear.”

Before lugging your boneless limb up, up, up- “-and here’s th-that hngh- cute spot ya love so much-” Pressing down over a certain delicate spot near your abdomen. And as if to prove his point, Toji’s quirking one brow and smashing his puffy tip hard in a dewy French kiss with your g-spot. Blissful. “And here- ohhh, here–”

He sounded so gone at this point. Rough. Cracking. You swear you catch a fleeting glimpse of his pearly whites watering with saliva, drooling as he hikes your hand about halfway up your tummy.

Wedging pressure right above an invisible line on your tummy. Where his stuttering hips were forced into halting, crownhead drenching the awaiting door to your womb with soppy molasses.

Toji’s mutters sound painfully close to a plea - to a whine. “H-heh, this is where ya better ngh- hope yer on fuckin’ birth control after this, ma.”

“...”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Capital B.D.E.

Effortless.

It was effortless how every sensual scrape of Nanami’s veined shaft had you seeing stars behind your shuttered eyes. Prying apart your gluey lips with a single daubing swipe of his plump, ruby-red tip; your cute cunt was practically crying all around his hefty girth.

“M-mooore- oh-” Your legs are ever-tightening around his dewy skin, surely slipping n’ sliding haphazardly if it wasn’t for the beefy arm pinning them behind Nanami’s slender hips. “Kento- I want…”

“Shhh. I know I know, my love.” He’s hushing away the pearly tears spilling over from the corners of your crossed eyes, the fat pad of his thumb collecting all the salty droplets and plugging it into your lolling mouth for you to suck. “But a-any more n’ this pretty girl right here’s gonna ngh-”

Break.

Both your needy cunt and your dear husband’s sanity, in fact.

Because saying that Nanami Kento was massive would be the understatement of the century - all long, proud ten inches. Twitching and leaking, sinking in such a sultry tempo past your tight, tight ring of muscle.

Desperately, your adhesive-like walls cling onto his throbbing length with not one, not two, but three barely-there squeezes. Spraying his scorching hot cock with a gleaming lather of slick, your heart races when you realize that he hasn’t even fully bottomed-out yet.

“I can t-take it, Ken–” You’re insisting with a cutely jutted-out lip that you already know he’s ruined for. His biggest weakness. And that cockdrunk little expression on your face makes him groan, “-give it all t’me, please?”

Nanami can’t say a word.

Can’t do anything but let his pretty amber eyes glaze over with something…feral. Oh, he was going to ruin you.

Tawny strands of his bangs stick to his perspired forehead and disarray into a brief curtain over his deep stare, and you’re catching the way that Nanami’s lower lip quivers.

Wordlessly, he’s smearing two greedy palms underneath your thighs. They were so jittery in his grasp, being manhandled easily over the delicious curvature of Nanami’s broad shoulders.

“Ken- oh!” Every single ounce of breath lodged in your chest leaves you instantly in a murky gasp when he snaps his huling body in half and bends you down, down, down. Folding you into the most pliable mating press that leaves your under-thighs burning, and your head spinning.

“Deep breaths-” He’s drawing an invisible line over your womb, where he’d measured he’d be thumping soon. Whispering, “Deep breaths, darling. Deep breaths- gotta it like a good girl. Take e-every inch–”

With one sharp smack! he’s bottoming out to hit the split-ended tip of his mushroomy cockhead against your deepest depths. Streaking down a buttery stream of possessive pre that splashes around your sponged cervix.

And that’s when Nanami’s doughy, latched-on fingerpads shake right on your velvety skin, Herculean body feverishly hot, lowly rasping gruffs leaving him in billowing gusts that fan your face. He was gone. That’s when he mutters, “Oh.”

Then - only then - do you realize that your lovely husband isn’t even looking at you. Heavily lidded eyes locked somewhere down in the hidden-away depths where his washboard abs were glissading against your front with every resounding pap! pap! pap!

“I…I can see it.” Nanami spits out and it sounds more like a growl. Hoarse. Broken. A warmly engulfing hand caresses your tummy - softly, softly. Before he’s flicking a thick thumb to nudge that lewd cylindrical bump and push-

Faster. Faster. Eyes never once looking away as if he was hypnotized by now. And he was - honestly, you’re wondering whether Nanami thinks he’s dreaming when he clasps your trembly hand to plant a pretty peck against your wedding ring. “I can- I can see it. Can see m’self inside ya- Fuck- what a slutty girl ya are, my love.”

Nanami Kento never stuttered.

Blinking away the sticky lacquer of tears on your lashes to see that your pussy was bloated - filled to the brim with so many numerous inches of Nanami’s ballooned cock that you’re seeing him swell against your tummy. Your eyes widen at the perfect curvature of his globed head leaving wet smooch after smooch on every hidden nook n’ cranny.

Fuck.

Nanami was so big that he was making you bulge.

“D-didn’t even know that could- didn’t even-” In hurried, jerky motions, he’s pushing up his condensely fogged-up glasses even higher. Long lashes fluttering as he takes in the lecherous outline again. And again and again and again- “Shit- shit, darlin’. Hold on, I can’t- fuck s’making me lose…composure.”

It was doing so much more than that.

It’s like something in the ever-stoic Nanami had shattered into a zillion pieces.

Bustling you higher and higher up the springy mattress with each and every unapologetically battering ram. You swear you hear your joints pop! He’s mazing into your sweetest spots, leaving wet dashes of pre cum topping soppy orifices that you didn’t even know existed.

Harder. Still pushing down for that bulge of his cock messing up your insides.

Before you can even blink, he’s locking your bouncing ankles together with a single hand behind his head. Making you ogle at the rawly tight grip printing onto your skin, and the way that Nanami’s big, shimmery biceps flex.

God- you blame the way he looks so unintentionally sexy for the way your stomach twists with your incoming orgasm. And the way your cockdrunken mouth slops open stupidly to utter, “More. Rougher, Kento.”

Nanami’s glassy eyes snap open- you were going to be the death of him. “R-rougher?”

SLAM!

The bed sings off a few splintered creaks! when Nanami strikes his freely open palm against the mahogany headboard and thrashes his teary, rotund tip against your most favorite g-spot - and so do you.

“Shit- shit shit shit-” You’re shrieking out in a waveringly shrill tone, a glowy trickle of saliva spilling from the loosened sides of your maw once you’re throwing your head back and cumming. And it hits you by surprise almost as it does your pulsing pussy. “-mpfh- c-cumming, Ken—”

Your fingers rover their way to scratch at Nanami’s attractive blond undercut, as he fucks you through every white-hot spark of pleasure. So many.

And he’s skimming his own back over that sexy bulge, feeling the way the peaks of your bliss only make his cock thud your goopy core harder-

“S-sooo pretty when you’re full n’ dumb on my hah- cock, my love.” He’s husking down at the sinful outline still pumping underneath your tummy, and it takes you a few sloppy seconds to realize that this is your Kento. Your sweet Kento - eyes crazed, lips snarled, blushing tip splitting you open when he only gets bigger. Animalistic. “But you’ll be even prettier n’ fuller as a mama, darling.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Earned it!

“Suguru- b-bulge—”

“Oh? Wha’s that?” Geto’s hot breath wafts right along with his heady cologne when he inches in just a bit closer to your tender ear. Sultry snickers clouding your brain, he dips his thumb gently up and down the base of your cunt. “Can’t hear ya over this talkative pussy, gorgeous. Speak up.”

And you couldn’t even if you wanted to - your loosely-hanging mouth flooded with fresh waves of mindless saliva, Geto’s own thick fingers prying your maw firmly shut. He was having such fun listening to the pretty noises still spilling stupidly from between his digits.

“Ngh-” You’re blabbering away, hips still bouncing on and on in his favorite reverse cowgirl. “Th-the bul- ah-”

“Th-th-the what?” Geto rolls his amethyst eyes, irises positively filling up with hearts at the way your ass was jiggling haplessly down onto his toned abs. Not that he’d admit it, of course. Each plap! of skin-on-skin making his unfairly attractive leer widen, “Don’t make me say it again. Honestly- s’this needy cunt the only thing you can hah- speak out of?”

And maybe it was the way that he’s leaning even further backwards to watch you - maybe it was the way that he’s letting his slender hips tilt just right to scrape a deep indent down your plush g-spot.

But it makes you halfway scream, “Bulge! Th-the bulge, Suguru–!”

Bulge? Bulge?

The only answer he’s letting off is one-too-many whopping thrashes of his plummy, mushroom head that ravenously scour open your slick-flooded walls and kiss right at the target of your womb. The runny patterns of his inflated veins scraping your sweetest spots. Again. And again. And again.

Honestly. He’s grabbing both your arms behind your back to pound into you until your mouth runs over like a fountain. Dark brows raising at the way you’re still drivelling on and on about some b-bulge-

“Did I fuck ya hngh! stupid already or what?” The way his drawling words are seeped with such greedy rasps make your spraying cunt gush even more. With a low tut, he’s manhandling your glissading bodies until you’re facing that floor-length mirror specifically installed in front of your bed. Taking in every inch of that heavenly sight before him, “Now now, what’s got you so-”

And then, for the first time ever in his life, Geto Suguru’s breath hitches.

Eyes widening, cerise, spit-glossed mouth parting - fuck, if he was any lesser man then he might just have been too dazed to stop from sinking his teeth into his lips and letting off a strained whimper.

Because right there about halfway down your pretty tummy - inches n’ solid inches about where he was drilling his swollen cock between your leaking slit - there was a bulge.

A puffy cylindrical outline that glues apart your saturated folds, bumps and grinds with every one of his ragged pounds. Big and true to what you’d been prattling nonsense about - was still prattling about. And Geto swears he could almost see the split-second his rounded, strawberry-pink tip hits your magical spots with a thundering squelch!

“O-oh.” He’s breathing out, sculptured muscles flinching when his entire towering body wracks with a shudder. And it’s as if on autopilot - as if he doesn’t even realize what he’s doing - when Geto traps the column of your neck into a rough headlock from behind. “You really are…filthy, girl. What a cuuute cock bulge.”

You’re practically plastered against Geto’s muscled front now, head lolling drunkenly back against his cushy pecs. Spine bowed the perfect semi-circle, “Can- can feel you so ngh- deep inside, Suguru.”

“W-well–” Geto’s groaning, as heaving and roughened as if he’d forgotten exactly how to speak. And he’s not that mean - rewarding you with a weighty wad of spittle right onto your bumpy tastebuds, “-I can see m’self all deep inside.”

And he could. And seeing it only made his penetrating stare cloud with even more absolute arousal.

Fuck- Geto couldn’t believe his eyes. He couldn’t look away. Oh, the things he could do…

Couldn’t do anything but outspread the curved rests of his kneecaps even wider across those damp, silken sheets. Angling his hips to hit the gooey bottom of your cunt with a few scorching hot spatters of pre, bloated balls hitting the dripping edge of your pussy with such cutely noisy thwacks!

You can feel the gentle mountains of his palm splay out over that particularly cylindrical outline, pressing down until you thought you were about to burst.

Bottomed-out - but now it’s like Geto was crazed. Pushing and pushing even when his bulky base hits your puffed-up lips in an innocent peck. Cobwebbed walls molding around his heated cock furiously-

“Now that you can h-heh- see…” Geto sighs out the words in a deep reverie, and yet the only thing deeper was the way that he’s rummaging your insides. Each stroke accompanied by a lazy drag of his veined shaft round n’ round your pussy. “How’d you want me to fuck you- like this?”

With a wet spank right on the dewiest spot of your cunt, he’s straightening his spine before you can string together an answer.

And you’re fully at his mercy. Held up with one big, beefy forearm curled around your throat to manhandle your vision back, “Or like this- ohh look, gorgeous, m’reachin’ even deeper now. Your bulge got even bigger- Orr–”

Your vision tinges briefly with black when Geto pulls out with a swift fwop! Making the disappointed whine barely formulate on your lips before he flips you over onto your back and buries himself until you feel like you’re split-apart-

“-or this?” You’re hearing from somewhere above you, and if you were any less mindlessly fucked then maybe you’d have realized the mean mating press that he’d folded you into. Dredging a palm ‘round that bloated bulge of his cock still there, “Because we have alllll night to figure out which position takes me the- hngh- deepest.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - #EMO BOY

Choso looked so pretty like this - eyeliner smudging with every beaded tear slipping from his half-lidded eyes, his silvery split-slicked lips hanging open, dazed gaze never straying from your gorgeous face.

Well, your gorgeous face and the sight of those knotted masses of creamy white gushing like a fountain from between your thighs. Making Choso’s red-tipped cock slip n’ slide with every splash of ribbony cum leaking from your cunt.

Such a mess. But he’s gotta make more space, right?

“P-pretty giiiirl.” He’s giggling - giggling - at the curvaceous bulge outlining on your tummy. A delicate trickle of saliva sneaking its way down from the ends of his curled smirk at the bump, “P-prettiest girl in the entire world, baby. Got the prettiest lil’ pussy, too–”

He always got so greedy whenever he stole a sneaky look at where your tummy was filled to the brim with all of him. Where he could stare at himself.

Depraved.

You’re fluttering your lashes, never getting used to the way your sweet boyfriend could fuck you into the soft mattress until you felt shy. And the way he pumps out a few throbbing inches of his lustrous cock to leave three smack! smack! smacks! on your bawling pussy makes you whine. “Such a sweet-talker- ngh, Cho.”

Oh, but Choso Kamo wasn’t just sweet-talking you. He was dead serious.

Plumpened lips wobbling at the way you would even suggest such a thing, your breath hitches when Choso dexterously curls numerous slender digits around his hefty hilt to drag his fat cock up n’ down your clingy lips. Up and down up and down-

Right with the perfect aim to kiss the hooded tip of your pulsing clit with repeated smooches of his icy Prince Albert’s piercing. Only making you gush even more torrentials. Choso was filthy.

“M’s-serious—” He’s panting out a few heady whimpers, chest rumbling with a low ngh! after every stinging smack. It was driving the both of you completely mad. “Prettiest girl e-ever with my ngh- cock makin’ a mess of you a-and–” Your heart races at just how much he was babbling right now, cheeks burning brightly blossoming red. “-and that tummy bulge. Fuck- fuck jus’ looking at ya is gonna make me cum.”

“Ah- Choso–” You’re squealing once he pumps you viciously full again, tight curvature of his thoroughly full ballsack hitting your cunt with a sharp spank!

And that wasn’t all - oh, Choso was addicted to you- you really think that would be enough?

No, in the matter of mere nanoseconds, he’s rolling your gyrating bodies over until you’re straddling his slenderly toned hips. Thighs digging onto either side of his smooth mounds of flesh when Choso latches a needy hand onto your waist and pulls-

“Shit- shit.” He feels himself getting oh-so-dizzy, chestnut locks splaying out like a halo all over the comfy pillowcase. Through long, dark lashes he’s gazing up at you with such sticky adoration, syllables lilting octaves upon octaves higher and choking. “Ride me. P-please ride me s-so I can take my time ngh- admirin’ you.”

You’re riding him and Choso doesn’t think he ever wants you to stop.

The stretch is so massively wide that it takes you a few seconds to finally catch your breath, eager hips slipping n’ stumbling with the help of gravity to swallow up every long and girthy inch he could give. It was such a wonder he could even manage the words out - what with the way your gushing walls were milking him till Choso felt his heart stutter. “Mmm– so inflated w-with my cum n’ that big fucking cock, right? Right?”

Mewling, “Y-yess–”

Rock-hard length heating up a few degrees more sweltering, he swears he can pinpoint the exact millisecond he spots that outlined protrusion and twitches. Letting off the barest whimper, “F-fuuuck I-I can still see it-”

“Mhm–?” You’re humming out, fussing on your lower lip like a gummy to keep the breaking tremor from entering your voice already. You already knew how it drove him wild when you graze a few fingertips over the knobbly end of his mushroomed tip probing at your tummy. “You mean- this? C-can’t help that you’re so- ngh- big, baby.”

“No- no no no- fuck!” He’s gurgling out wetly, stubbly silver of his piercing scratching such a deeply parched itch at your geysering g-spot. “Don’t…don’t touch ah- it like that, baby– s’gonna make me…cum.”

And he wants to swat your hands away - he wants to. But the only thing that he can manage to do is cover your fingers with his much-longer ones, practically drowning in his needy touch when he pins your hands to that contoured bump and presses down.

Lacing his fingers with your own, Choso can’t believe that that was what had his ears ringing with a carmine-tinted blush.

The forecast was wet - and Choso was sure to keep it that way. Hooking one doughy pad of his digits to bully your bloated folds open and let trickling rivulets of cum weep out. They puddle out in buttery splotches on his flexing abs, rippling with every meeting drive up to meet your perfect tempo.

Glazing and flowing off the sides of his body and into the drenched mattress, “And- and I dunno if anymore will hck! fit inside your cute cunt if I cum again.”

He sounded so adorably genuinely worried, button nose crinkling at the way a few more globs of seed hit his drenched tufts of dark brown with every stripe of his piercing drawn on your inne spots. But Choso still couldn’t take his eyes away from you - couldn’t take his eyes away from where he could see himself-

“S’alright, Cho–” Your hips jerk in sensual motions, still never faltering after each plap! Never slowing down even when Choso hoists his cottony head closer to make you grace his lolling tongue with a nice stream of saliva, “Give it a-all. Give it all t’me.”

“Th-then take it-” He’s snarling, and your body breaks out in a severe bout of goosebumps as the air stiffens and the lined tattoo on Choso’s face elongates. “Milk me- hngh- m-milk me, pretty baby, ‘ntil you’re s-so full you can’t think…”

When he cums it’s with his digits pressing powerful pressure down onto yours, groping and adoring where he was spurting out wiry ribbons of sloshing seed. That bulge. Adding to the mess of your sloppy pussylips painting little rings around his thickened base.

Once more. Twice more. Until you were a dripping wet mess. Fuck- at this point he’s registering the crackling work of his own cursed technique running into overdrive. Blood manipulation only making his aching cock harder and harder-

“Fuck- I love you.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - “Just the tip.”

“Or, well…” It was almost infuriating just how much Sukuna didn’t even have to try to make your needy pussy even needier. Merely wafting off a sleazy smirk, “-tips.”

“B-both?” Your arms weakly dangle onto his luxurious royal throne, lips pouting just the way it did when you got extra extra needy for him. And, damn, was that true tonight.

A hallowing spank right on the fleshy nub of your clit, “Yeah- fuckin’ both. Gonna stretch this pretty lil’ hngh- pussy out ‘till she’s stupid.”

You’re practically draped over his solid, sculptured body - eager hands palming at his rippling abs, head buried into the cushy valley between his pecs. His musky scent takes over your senses and makes your cunt twitch.

Every blabber spilling from your maw only lets the king know just how much more cockdrunk you’re getting with each passing second. Toying a few elongated nails over your hardened nipples as you’re heaving out an adorable, “Kuna- don’t know if s’gonna ah! fit- Gonna be ‘nough-”

He seethes, “Not gonna fit?”

And all you can manage to do is shake your head stupidly, shivers sliding down your spine at the feral intensity of his deep stare upon you. “N-no?”

“Tch-” Sukuna’s drawling in a primally smug tone of voice, and something about it already had your perked ass shivering downwards in repeated sensual grinds. Rolling his devilishly crimson irises with such sass, they’re matching the exact tempo he swirls his second, stacked divot around and around your tight entrance, “-my deepest apologies s’not ‘nough’, spoiled brat, but when I say m’gonna make it fit-”

Oh.

With a sappy pop! he’s feeding you the fatly rounded curve of one more cock - neverendingly big, it felt like. And you couldn’t get enough. No matter how much it felt like he was ruining you from the inside out.

“-I fucking mean it.”

Topping his mushroomed crowns with a quick lather of your flooding slick, he wastes absolutely no time bouncing two powerful knees to jerk your hips in a sloppy cadence. So hot and needy around him that Sukuna can’t help but slip his twin hard cocks just a bit past the tip-

“See?” Sukuna jerks his head to rest on top of one palm, tilting away mere degrees that would let him admire all of you. Well- not that he’d tell his puny human so. “Taking it like s-such a ngh- good girl– take a few more inches like I know that filthy cunt wants to. She’s like a damn waterpark.”

“More?” Your cries are shrill, pure anticipation and need cracking your words when two big, beefy arms latch around the fleshy mounds of your ass to push. “Shit- shit, s-so biiiig- Kuna-”

“Stop talking outta ya pussy, silly girl-” He’s gritting his teeth at the clingy resistance, lavish second tongue open with want to plant a few pretty pecks on your plump clit. Letting your knees weaken, “S’only gonna make me bigger. Good luck.”

And he wasn’t lying.

Oh, no. Your leaden lids snap open once you’re feeling the probing throb of his ballooned-up shafts pry your gluey falls further and future open like his own personal puzzle, only getting hotter. Harder. Bludgeoning through your gluey walls and leaving cratering indents of his proud circumferences on your pulpy g-spot.

You’re arching your spine into such a delicious curvature when your thunderous orgasm looms ever-closer. Trekking your palms onto his toned deltoids with a yelp-

“Oioi- where’d ya think you’re hah- runnin’ off to?” Gifting a thorough spank on the side of your plapping ass, and a hand clawing the crown of your head to push you down. Unable to escape. Sukuna couldn’t believe the way that only made you more drenched. Practically sobbing all over his lap, dirty girl. “Yeah. Yeah. Big fuckin’ cocks, heh- aren’t they, ma?”

With the barest head tilt, he can already spot a few inches more to go until he was really sunken into your warm depths. Careening up a hand to measure with two fat fingers - one steady at the base of your teary silt, the other stretching wider and wider - just to show off how far he’d be rummaging inside you-

Only to find out that- oh. He doesn’t need to measure with his fingers after all.

Because sitting all prettily right then and there was such a lecherous bulge.

A proud inflation about halfway down your tummy where he was padding on a sultry outline of his bulging cocks. Stretching out your stinging pussy flaps, where he was disappearing in sappy thrusts, way past that- So big that he could count every fat thud into the syrupy orifices of your cunt from the outside.

“C-curses.” Sukuna whimpers - whimpers.

And the utter shock of it is so great that you find your dazed gaze tumbling downwards to where he was staring intently. Toes curling at the heavenly sight of him - making an indented bulge from all the way inside. “Fuck- Kuna…more.”

“M-more?” He’s whispering, narrowed eyes widening just a fraction at your words. And he’s looking and looking at you as if he can’t look away. Crazed. Depraved. “More? When ya complained about th-that?”

Of-fucking-course, Sukuna’s gonna fucking give you more.

And he’s gonna make you cum while he’s at it, too. Needing only a singular, vulgar stroke to stuff himself snugly between your glutinous walls until you swear you could feel his stacked shafts smooching your lungs. Finally bottoming out.

The stretch so tight - so maddening - and that bumped bulge at your tummy so much worse.

You simply can’t help but collapse your shivering body down into his ready embrace, sinking the fringes of your teeth into your bottom lip when you throw your head back and reach your high. Finally.

Making such a filthy mess. Torrenting out a fountain of sheen that glimmers Sukuna’s muscled body until he was glistening in the dimmed lighting of the throne room. Until it pools at your knees and all over the luxurious cushion.

God- you think you’re seeing fractals explode all being your drunkenly shuttered lids. Bursting to and fro with every swipe of his leftly curved cockhead raking translucent streaks of precum along your cervix.

Every swashing smack of the gummy end of his tongue stretching past your pursed pussylips and lapping ounces upon ounces of your webbed juices. Your- fuck, it finally hits you, did you squirt?

With an abashed huff, you’re blinking your eyes just a crack open - but Sukuna didn’t complain. Quite the opposite, in fact. “Wanna find out if y’can heh- ride my tongue, too, brat.”

♡ INO TAKUMA - Bottoms out- up?!

“W-woah.”

And it wasn’t like any other of Ino’s usual moans - no. Right now, he sounded as if he was reverent. Lilting baritone straining away into nothing but a whisper, nothing but a prayer.

You could barely even hear it over the saturated squelch! of his hips finally bottoming out. Reeling back mere centimeters to bully back through your folds with a gluey snog. Decorating your sobbing entrance with a few wadded jets of precum once. Twice. “Woah—”

You’re cracking your weightily-lidded gaze open, boring up at Ino’s crinkled sepia brows with a coo. Tugging through the stray flecks of chestnut strands plastered to his perspired forehead, “Something wrong, Taku?”

And he can only shake his head. Furiously.

Words still a ball of lead in his throat - even more so when you’re staring deeply into his heart-shaped irises like that.

“I-I just-” Various strings of glistering drool detach when he throws his head back and lets off a husky groan. Eyes crinkling with something that looks like oh-so-feral pain, he’s resting his weight onto yours. Collapsing. Head tucking between your jiggling tits, “-just that- mommy- fuck! Pretty, m’makin’ you h-have a…”

Shit, he couldn’t even bring himself to say it.

Couldn’t bring himself to do anything other than latch his eyes down towards where he could see that…bulge once more. Fuck, Ino was going to cum just from the sight of it.

“What do you…oh.” Oh, was right - was just about the only syllable accumulating on your lolling pinkish tongue. Right along with a freshly slicking wave of saliva at the way that Ino’s fattened cock was making your tummy bulge - a thick, cylindrical knot bumping up n’ down every time he was battering you with repeated rams. “Y-you’re so pretty, Taku.”

The blush that dusts his handsome cheeks is adorable, and you can feel him pump your cushy walls full with copious parching webs of needy pre. It’s like he was bawling inside of you. “Is…is this really me?”

Speaking to himself more than you at this point.

And it’s as if Ino’s in a trance - fully drunken on your pussy. Those mahogany eyes of his glaze over with a thick film of arousal, movements slow and sensual as he cranes inches down to give the sweltering skin near your extra-bumped tummy a lingering peck.

“H-hellooo, sweetness.” Murked pants tumbling out one after the other, and breezing over your papping mounds of flesh heatedly. After each and every pound. “-s’this me? Am- am I the one giving you this cute ngh- belly bulge? Tell me- tell me, please-”

So impatient, so wild for you that he can’t even wait until you’re gathering all your leftover breaths to formulate a coherent sentence.

He’s rovering over one hand to tap at the buttony nub of your plumped clit, rolling in syrupy hearts that drive you breathless. “M’beggin’, pretty. T-tell me how Taku here’s making you feel with his ngh- cock, hm?”

“Love it- love it- ngh!” You’re hiccuping through thickly viscous bouts of tears that warm your skin. Lapped up eagerly by a loving Ino, watching you with wide stricken eyes. “Love how you’re in so deep s’makin’ me haaaah- have a tummy b-bulge.”

Ah, music to Ino’s ears.

You’re pinned to the springing bedcoils by all of his lean muscle, meaty thighs shifting over yours to jostle your wrangle thighs even wider. Washboard as maddaging your front, fuck- he can’t stop himself from pressing his weight down even harder to feel the bludgeoning back and forth of his long shaft.

“Can- can feel myself in there so deeeep–” Words shaky and tinging on a whine, you’ve never ever seen Ino this flustered. This sloppy with every shovelling inch - he’s barely even pulling out, just pressing rapid, tight pushes of his rounded ruby tip against your elastic cervix. Like he couldn’t even bear thrusting back. “-so h-heh…big. M’gonna ruin this cute cunt, sweetness. She’s never gonna forget me.”

Oh, and when Ino promises you something then it’s as good as done.

Because right now you can feel your sanity cracking bit-by-bit, a slow treacling spring of spittle making its way from your helplessly flapping mouth. Even more so when he unabashedly nuzzles closer to your mouth and spits.

You pant, “Fuck- fucking me s-so good. Keep going, baby, keep going–”

He was always so weak to the way you’d call him baby in that sweetly honeyed voice of yours. “S-say that again n’ m’gonna…”

A hand of yours glides down to give his tensed abs a smooth caress, and he flinches at the rays of bliss that bolt like lightning down his curved spine. Melding into pure euphoria when you drag one of his splayed-out hands to rest on your body - more specifically the bloated bump he was fucking into you. “Mhm– better not miss, Taku. Want it to make an even ah- bigger bulge.”

“Oh.” Heart beat stuttering to the very same ba-dump as his aching pink tip was, sobbing out in wet spatters that stream from the very geyser in the middle. He’s in love. “C-can we…hold hngh! hands when I cum, pretty?”

♡ GOJO SATORU - X-RAY.

“-extrasensory p-perception by my Six Eyes that shows all that cursed energy n’ beyond anything anyone else could see, so, I can see that-” Gojo’s cutting his own pussydrunken babbling off with a lazy scrape of his ruddied cockhead down your buttery-sheened walls. “-I’ll show up riiiight here.”

Oh, and true to the strongest’s words you’re blinking through your nth orgasm of the night to glimpse at the bloated tip of his furious cockhead, caving a lecherous indent right then n’ there on your tummy. A bulge.

And you swear that Gojo has never looked more smug, “Mhm— there. Fuck- right there. Don’t even need this cute lil’ ngh- belly bulge ta know m’fucking you proper, sweetheart. But I wanna show off for my pretty girl, heh.”

He’s insatiable.

Rubbing the thickened pad of his thumb over that pre-topped mushroom crownhead of his. Leaving repeated sappy kisses down your targeted magical spots - every single one that he doesn’t even have to try to swab a sultry circle down.

“S-such a freak, Toru—” You’re finding yourself whining - so much more breathless than you’d have liked but what can you do when he’s pinning you to the bouncy mattress with battering rams. Your poor pussy practically leaking, “-y-you probably know when m’gonna cum, too.”

And, you were prattling off any snappy syllable you could string together. Really. You weren’t serious.

But when Gojo arches one immaculately cloudy brow, skidding a sticky thud thud thud of his ballooned strawberry divot right into your sweetest spot, you already know you’re fucked.

Shit.

Completely and utterly soon-to-be ruined when he’s wrenching out a streaming spray of sappy slick from right between your thighs. Rendering your orgasm building up desperately with only numerous indecent strokes, “Oh, you thought that was a haaah- joke?”

It’s all you can do to blubber through, knees weakening with disbelief. “I-I…”

“The st-strongest fucked you hngh! stupid already, huh?” Lapis lazuli irises rolling- fuck, he had to hide the way your gummy walls made his eyes slide to the back of his lids some what or the other. Slender fingers buzzing with a tinge of cursed energy when he swipes over your clit and taps. “Already know this turns ya on, filthy girl.”

You’re squirming helplessly on the bed, your gooey thighs cracking further and further open with every cute lil’ heart he’s painting on that pulpy nub. “Th-that’s just cheating…”

But Gojo Satoru wasn’t done.

“And I knooooow—” God, if he didn’t have his meaty thighs pressed up against yours - reeling back n’ forth to pump your velvety walls all full of his veined, girthy inches - then you swear he would’ve been kicking his feet. Sing-song baritone cracking with a crazed giggle, “-oh, sweetheart, you h-have no idea what I know.”

Did you even want to know at this point?

Roughened groans only growing more ragged, sloppy strikes prying open your glutinous walls even wider. Until your bawling folds were puffy and raw with every peaking massage of his inflated veins.

Until he’s letting off two straight thwacks! of his mountained fingertips right where he’s tunneling past your sappy entrance and molding out an addictive tummy bulge.

“I know you’re oh-so-close right now- ngh-” He’s drawling, inching over to nip his teeth dangerously down the urgent throb of your pulse. Huffing and puffing breath as hot as his flushed body was right now. Rumbling purrs tremoring down your curved spine, “That it makes this cute ah! cunt f-fucking horny when I doooo– this.”

Making you gasp with a bulky bash of Gojo’s rounded tip against your g-spot, probing a little crater deeply into your sponged depths. Before silking out a stringy bout of pre and dragging a loooong line up to your cervix.

Again. And again. And again and again-

“N’ right here-” Daubing over his favorite outlined bulge, “S’where m’ruinin’ this tight pussy with a hck! biiig stretch- and here-” From the hazy hinges of your eyes you’re catching his own adorn with stray bolts of lighting. With stray strands of insanity. Leering grin growing ever-wider and wider, he draws an invisible line over where his rock-hard cock was hammering the very door to your womb. “-s’gonna be where I make- make you my c-cumdump. Hehhhh, yeah- can see it a-already.”

Your hips jerk off of the cottony sheets, now puddled with your geysering slick and sweat. Perching your legs even higher upon his naked waist, your heels dig into his sculpted obliques had enough to bruise.

“Want it–” You’re letting your head loll stupidly, pathetic whines the only thing that can drip intelligently from your tongue at this moment. “-want it so bad! Ah!”

Gojo snickers something mean, tiny dimples denting his smirk. “Already know that, sweetheart.”

Sloppier. Faster. And by the trembling little crack in his deep octaves, by that unintentionally sexy look on his face he only gets in battles, you’re wondering which one of you is the most gone right now.

He rovers a palm over to cup your perked clit, “Already know that ngh- Can see that this s’gonna make your hngh- cunt swell even cuter and this-” Freshly lacquered tips of his digits twirling ‘round and ‘round that swollen hood, you’re counting one crash - two - three - six right into your tenderized g-spot. Before he’s pinching- “-this is gonna make you cum.”

And when has the strongest ever been wrong?

Before you know it, you’re sugarcoating Gojo’s entire length with flooding torrents of slick. Eyes flashing hot white and red before your head throws back with a shrilling moan of Satoru–

Trembling legs being plastered and glissaded ever-tighter against his rippling muscles. Spurting jets of your bliss crashing into you headfirst. Maybe you’re squirting, maybe you’re not - you can’t even see because fuck- when did the lightbulbs shatter?

The thought barely articulates in your mind before Gojo snatches you out of your fuzzy reverie by drilling his index hard against his silhouetted jackhammers.

Manicured fingernail drawing a languid line up, up, up-

“Right here-” He’s putting a mere fraction of his strength into pressing down a circumference of pressure right where Gojo’s vicious cock was fucking you through your high. Right where he was ending off each thrust with a resounding thud! against your cervix - your womb - that leaves your mind blank. His favorite girl. His favorite place. He’s all but giggling “-here- s’where my favorite domain ta expand is, sweetheart.”

“...”

♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - Stuffin’ 3

“Awww, angel, don’t tell me you’re heh- tapping out already?” Higuruma leaves off numerous sharp spanks against the plapping mounds of your thighs. The meaty plane of his greedy palms covering little massages, “After I just fucked this ngh- cute lil’ tummy bulge into ya.”

Higuruma thinks you’ve never looked prettier - well, his dear wife is always beautiful.

But something about the way you’re huffing and puffing at him, splayed out all on his lux office chair, grappling your nails to rake expensively all over his leather cushion.

But he didn’t give a shit. Not when he had you exactly where he wanted like this.

Thighs straining with tired ache, spine curved oh-so-sweetly into his ready touch, your sopping cunt bouncing to taste each n’ every inch of his reddened cock. Oh, this was heaven. Fucking his currently-annoyed lil’ wife until you couldn’t even remember your own name.

And he’s finding himself looking over a busy document he’s sure is important, cocoa eyes dusking over with a lecherous twinkle.

“Mmm– still mad at me, sugar?” He’s drawling with that rasped tone that makes your adhesive-like wall clench, fat pearls of your sticky slick escaping from the sides of your sappy slit and puddling into a glossy ring around his hefty base. You’re gasping when he rubs his ice-cold wedding ring against your dripping lips, “Y’know m’sorry I ngh- took overtime on our date night. But m’here- hah- haaaah–”

You’re squirming at just how adoringly he leaves with a few thorough smears of his fat thumb down the teary line of your cunt. Wetting a viscous layer of slick that dribbles all the way down to his flexible wrist, he draws a translucent line of gloss up, up, up till he’s smudging the rotund bump leaving heavy-duty nudges against your weeping walls. “-heh riiiight here. N’ m’gonna make it ah- up to you. Promise.”

Your brows furrow so adorably- fuck, it makes him dewdrop a few gummy puddles of scorched pre. “Hmpf–”

Bouncing his muscular thighs - clothed thighs, still in his smart office slacks - so that you’re forced to jerk along with his rugged tempo. Higuruma always fucked so filthy.

Hot, vicious pounds. A few doughy tips of his thick fingers stroking the thumping ends of that tummy bulge he loved so very much. Nuzzling at just the right angle for his silver suit cuffs to nudge your fleshy clit.

It didn’t help to even sink the edges of your teeth into your unsteady lower lip. Because solely a long, harsh drag down your soppy g-spot - that your husband knew too well - makes you whine, “Fuck- ngh- there, Hiro–”

Up and down until your slobbery hole was latering a candied layer of sweet, sweet juices all the way from his leaking strawberry divot till that neat black happy trail. Grinding your plump clit along his flexed abs, “There there- let it out, let it alllll out for your Hiromi here.”

Shit- he’s wondering in the melty depths of his brain whether you even realized you were bustling yourself to milk his furious cock that way.

Spraying out an overspilling squirt of slick with every slam! you’re planting down on his lap. Mazing apart your muggy walls to pry into every hidden orifice you could find - even ones that you didn’t even know existed until Higuruma’s swollen girth probes a few lightning-bolted veins into those exact bullseyes.

“Sh-shit- hah!” You can’t stop your traitorous tongue from echoing out, leaning in to gulp in flavored breaths of Higuruma’s heady cologne. “M’s-still a-angry at–”

“Mhmm–?” Oh, he knew what he was doing. Hiding away the devious edges of his sleazy smirk with that document, you were just so adorable when you’re teased like this. Fluttery eyes narrowing once he keeps pretending to read, “Oh? What was hngh- that, angel?”

Fucking you stupid.

You couldn’t feel anything other than the purely cottony bliss that came with his splotchy circle being drawn on top of your battered and bruised womb. The sugary taste of your high building up and up and up- “Th-that m’still- oh, Hiromi- feels so good-”

“Exactly what I thought, sugar.” He chuckles out something dark, curdling at the raspy back of his throat. Tilting back in his chair ever-so-slightly to let you lean your weight into his toned front. Teasing his paper in front of you, “Now now– let me get back to my hah-”

Shit- Higuruma Hiromi’s searing eyes widen, he catches his sexy bass wavering, cut off for the first time in thirty-something years when you’re bringing up a hand to your bloated tummy bulge and pushing-

“O-oh.” He’s scrambling with a few webbed wads of saliva to coat his parched throat, struggling to keep the pure whimpering awe away from his words. “Angel- angel, what are you- oh.”

But your sultry smirk only gets wider, your gyrating motions only sloppier. Thumbing over where you’re sure you’d mapped out the sneaking ridge of Higuruma’s sensitive slit, “What was that, dear husband?”

Ah, he can feel the pearly beads of sweat spattering along his forehead now. A slow trickle of thin drivel springing from the wobbly corner of one mouth, hips perching off of the dampened seat in a one-two-three staccato. “Angel…angel- m’s-sorry I teased- ngh!”

Two could play that game - and Higuruma was completely n’ utterly failing right now.

Such a pretty loser with his uncharacteristically-dishevelled locks, steadily flushing cheekbones, staring right into your eyes with every pound of his mushroomy tip leaking against your innermost depths. Hot. Sopping. Shivering after every clench you were mercilessly bestowing on his puffy shaft.

“My wife-”

“Hmmm?”

“Fine- fine-” Higuruma grits out, jaw clenched so tightly that you were half-wondering in a cockdrunken little haze whether he couldn’t taste iron already. Plush pecs rollercoastering in repeated heaves after every buck, “G’na fill you u-up, sugar.” Palming his own set of fingers over yours, over that rummaging cylindrical outline. “Make you even fuller- would ya like that? Would that make you happy, hm?”

His vigor so dizzying and addictive that it takes you every ounce of will in your boneless body to nod your unbalanced head, “Yes- yes. D-don’t miss inside, Hiromi–!”

“Well then…” And you swear you catch the barest curl of such a saccharine sweet smirk on his kiss-bitten lips. “-get ready. Here it comes, angel.”

And no warning in the world could have ever prepared you for the steadily gushing waterfall of buttery seed that invades your insides. Gooey patches of cum drip down to his formal pants, helping you slip and slide down his reddening shaft to milk out every single creamy ounce possible.

So sweltering hot. So much of it - it’s as if he’s never cum this hard in his entire life.

Higuruma can feel himself shaking, sensory tips of his fingers digging and budging that bloated outline being fucked deeper n’ deeper into you. Fat balls clenching once your velvety walls clamp down clingily and you cum-

“Tha’s it, thaaat’s it–” He’s droning through wet chuckles. Thumbing over to feel for the splats! of fountaining cum that slosh about your every nook. Overtaking you. His pretty wife. Flooding your mushy tastebuds when he plugs your whining maw shut with those very same lustrous digits, “Soon yer gonna be even more stuffed, mama.”

A/N. Anatomy? What anatomy?

Plagiarism not authorized.

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screampied · 4 months ago

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you always had a bad habit of falling asleep—not just anywhere though, but on sukuna ryōmen’s notorious throne. .

he hated it.

he hated how how you hogged up his space.

he hated how your near-quiet snores would echo through his poorly aged walls.

most importantly though, he hated how frustratingly cute you looked . . all scrunched up, curled up in a ball, and occasionally shivering a bit from the cool air that settled against your bare skin.

“tch..” he’d sigh, feeling his muscles ache with each step he took toward you. as usual, sukuna had just returned from some battle and here you were, always waiting for him to return. he’s probably told you over about a hundred times that you could have slept in his private chambers but no—you always preferred his throne. always.

you never told him, but part of the reason why you loved sleeping on it was because of his strong scent that always lingered on the piece of ancient furniture. a musky scent that you’d grow to always miss whenever he wasn’t with you.

“oi. you awake?” sukuna grumbles, and you shift a bit once he lifts you. you could hear him murmuring vexed curses under his breath as he positioned you to lean up a certain way. crimson-velvet eyes bore into your sleeping state and sukuna held back a snickering smile. “pft. ‘course not,” and you felt him starting to trod away with you snugly cradled in his broad arms. as sukuna made his way upstairs, he softly strokes a thumb underneath your nape. “brat. sleep in my bed next time. you’re gonna get back aches at this rate.”

despite his cold-hearted, rough exterior he was always gentle with you. only you. just you.

sukuna carried you in his arms like every other night—sometimes, he wonders if you do this on purpose. purposely falling asleep on his throne just so he could pick you up bridal style, bringing you back to his bed.

each step he took shook your entire body, and you let off a groan in your sleep from the abrupt bumps. “i know. i know little one. just a few more steps.” he rolls his eyes, secretly finding your slumbering state adorable. never in a million years would he ever admit it though.

as the wooden stairs creak—he continues to walk, occasionally looking down at you. right as he’s at the final groaning step, sukuna tenses a bit, feeling your head brush up against his soft exposed pecs.

his fleecy kimono was half open and you’re just buried in his arms, snuggling all against him like a needy cat.

the audacity. .

his pink slit brow furrows as he scoffs at the sight, bringing you inside his quiet spacious bedroom. gently, he starts to lie you down on the mattress but that’s when your arms wrap around him.

“eh? what are you-” sukuna grunts, and that’s when he collapses right against your chest. sukuna deadpans once your warm legs and arms sneakily snake around him—clinging onto him tight like a koala. “keh.. such a handsy pest, even when you’re dead asleep.” he clicks his tongue, letting you drag him further into the bed with you.

sukuna feels a strange feeling pooling near the very bottom depths of his heart.

it’s eerily strange . .

it doesn’t feel like the usual resentment, hatred, or even arrogance he feels toward others ‘below him’.

he finds himself melting into your tender touch, his chin gradually burying itself in your shoulder.

the soreness in his muscles started to subside as he was just on top of you—inhaling your sweet scent, stubbornly grumbling swears in your neck.

sukuna was feeling . . . soft.

he was so closely pressed up against you that he could feel the steady racing beats of your heart. each slow-paced ba-dump! that pumped out of your chest quickened by the second.

was . . he the one making your heart race?

sukuna heard how your shallow breaths significantly slowed, and your arms started to tighten more around his thick neck. he didn’t think he’d ever feel like this. whatever… emotion this was.

sure, he’s had to carry you up to his chambers so you’d sleep more comfortably lots of times but this- this moment felt more a bit different.

“i . . can’t sleep like this, y’know,” the demon breaks the silence, huffing at the awkward predicament he was in. sukuna was currently lying on top of you, hovering over you just so he wouldn’t crush your cute human body. with each longing second passing, he could already feel his limbs starting to ache from just idly hanging over you. “at least let me rest near the side.”

no reply.

sukuna scoffs again, realizing he’s practically talking to himself. but instead of responding with actual words—you cling onto him even tighter, your non-verbal way of saying ‘stay.’

“you’re even more annoying when you’re asleep,” he sighs, pinching his forehead. “fine.. i’ll- i’ll stay like this. here, with you. ‘s not like i plan to go anywher—” sukuna gets cut off once he sees you shifting a bit in your sleep again.

the silence was undeniably loud. with his lips mutely parting, he watches as you get more comfortable, letting off a few heavy exhales.

sukuna starts to ponder to himself. you looked so peaceful . . sound asleep.

he wondered what you were dreaming about. he was so busy staring at you while you slept that he didn’t even notice that he was starting to get drowsy himself. sukuna’s eyelids started to droop and he grunted, letting off an obnoxious yawn.

with watery eyes, sukuna stretches his arms before sinking his face back into your left shoulder. your warmth made him quietly purr into your neck. it was faint, but you heard it.

sukuna even mimicked some of your movements from earlier, softly rubbing his forehead against you as you held him close. “huh. this isn’t . . that bad,” he gruffly utters, his gravely voice pitching.

your chin rests on the top of his head, and sukuna gives you one last glance.

“i. . i love you.” he quietly whispers, thinking that just because you were asleep you couldn’t hear.

but- you did, you heard it all. every word.

little did sukuna know, you were actually wide awake the entire time. you woke up when he was carrying you up the stairs, but you just pretended to be asleep from that point up until now.

a small genuine smile curves on both sides of your crooked lips as your eyelids remain closed. in a sweet groggy voice, you instantly replied, “love you too ‘kuna. it’s about time you finally said it.”

sukuna’s eyes widen as his head quickly rises from against your chest. you’re looking down at him with very much open eyes now and the world’s smugest grin.

his cheeks—they’re burning, flushing with a rosy flamed color and you don’t think you’ve ever seen sukuna ryomen more embarrassed.

“you . . you didn’t . . hear that.”

“i definitely heard it.”

“ugh. i hate you.”

“i love youuu.”

“i… love you too, stupid cheeky human. now go back to sleep. hmph.”

#★vegasbaby.#i’m sad n listenin to mitski idk 🕺#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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roastedoatmilk · 4 months ago

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Arcane Women Strap Hcs

characters: sevika, vi, caitlyn, mel, ambessa

A/N barely proofread sorry, also my first time writing for arcane please be kind 🙈 i hope y’all enjoy lmk your thoughts :)

Sevika

first things first she has a dark purple strap i’m talking almost the same color that shimmer is and boy does she know how to use it

whenever she pulls the strap out be prepared to not be able to walk the next day

she prefers to fuck you in missionary but if she had to choose a different position it would be fucking you from the bottom, she just loves to be able to see your face while she pleasures you

her strap game is DIABOLICAL, she always makes sure to hit that spot inside you that makes you let out a squeal and causes your toes to curl

honestly she could just cum from fucking you alone but if you feel up to it once she’s done with you she loves when you eat her out after

“that’s it baby, you’re taking me so well just a little more”

vi screams black strap to me like it just makes sense

she prefers to fuck you slow and DEEP, i’m talking girly lifts your hips off the bed and grips them so hard that you can feel bruises form

shes so cocky about it too like she knows she’s good

vi’s another one that could cum from pleasuring you alone and 9/10 times she does, however the one time she doesn’t she will literally sit on your face once you’re well enough to take care of her

“that feel good pretty girl ? yeah i know it does, you’re always so good for me”

Caitlyn

dark blue strap sorry yall i don’t make the rules

caitlyn loves when you’re on top and she’s fucking you from below

she revels in the sight of you falling apart above her while she’s gripping your hips guiding you

she’s 100% a brat tamer and you can’t tell me any different

“oh darling is it too much ? you shouldn’t have behaved like that if you didn’t want me to fuck you like this”

Mel

HEAR YE HEAR YE she has a gold strap idc idc

mel also likes it when you’re on top however she prefers to gently guide your movements while she praises you

don’t let that mislead you tho shes a HUGE tease

she can and will make you edge yourself until you’re literally crying begging her to let you cum

“ my love you look so beautiful when you ask nicely like that, go ahead and take what you need”

Ambessa

ruby red strap that’s all imma say

the cruelest of the bunch, she’s not afraid to leave you dry while she takes what she needs

another brat tamer yall you love to see it

she doesn’t make love she FUCKS, be prepared to constantly be buying new headboards

she makes you suck on her strap NEXTTTTT

“sweet girl did you think i’m finished with you ? no no we aren’t done until you can’t remember anything but my name”

#dividers from cafekitsune #sevika x reader #sevika smut #vi x reader #vi smut #caitlyn kiramman x reader #caitlyn kiramman smut #mel medarda x reader #mel medarda smut #ambess medarda x reader #ambessa medarda smut #arcane x reader #arcane smut #arcane #arcane netflix #arcane league of legends

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nezuscribe · 5 months ago

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gojo never imagined an arrange marriage with you, but now you’re all he can think about.

he thinks about you when he’s training, when he’s seated at his round table, when he’s in his bed, everywhere, every time, you’re all he can think about.

and you’re oblivious to it.

you heard the gossip everywhere you walked, about the girl gojo was pleading with his family to marry. how much he loved her, how beautiful she was, how much more elegant she was compared to you. you knew you were never his first choice, not even his fifth, but it hurt even more when everybody acknowledged it.

you stopped wearing your wedding ring, started acting like you were just another person there. luckily gojo didn’t seem to be in any hurry about making heirs, so pretending like you two were working things out didn’t even matter anymore.

you find yourself alone most of the time. your maids were kind and patient, but they had so many things to do throughout the day that you felt awful pestering them to walk around the estate with you.

eating dinners with gojo became normal, but most of your other meals were in silence, always feeling like a speck of dust in the large dining hall.

one day when you’re walking around aimlessly you stumble across the training grounds, the open space below you filled with men swinging wooden swords back and forth at each other.

it wasn’t difficult to find your husband, his white hair hard to miss in a crowd of others. he didn’t notice you watching from above, and so you stayed hidden, not knowing if the men were picky with who watched them.

he was swift and agile. everything he did was precise and with meaning. no wonder he was named the best warrior of the north.

you found this to be more entertaining than walking around the gardens for the tenth time or watching the cooks assemble the next meal, so you didn’t even notice how gojo looked up to see you, somehow slipping away without you knowing.

you were in a state of watching but not really thinking, almost jumping out of your skin when you heard his voice behind you.

“didn’t know i had an audience,”

you yelp, flinching as you look behind you to see your husband all sweaty, panting slightly as he moves his hair away from his face. you eye the stairs that led him up here, wondering how you could’ve missed that.

you laugh sheepishly, giving him an apologetic smile as you pick are your nails.

“i’m sorry,” you scratch behind your ears, feeling heat rise to your cheeks under his intense gaze. it’s unfair how pretty somebody can look, especially after training for an hour straight, “i was just walking around and i saw this.”

he waved it off, shaking his head as he leaned his sword on the wall.

“not a problem,” his eyes shine, “i just would’ve tried harder if i knew my wife was watching.”

my wife.

the words fall so smoothly from his lips you wonder how many times he’s said it before. with malice, hatred, necessity?

you smile a little bit, eyes crinkling around the edges as you look away briefly, not noticing the way gojo chased after your cheerful face.

“how’d you get up here? where are your ladies?” he asks suddenly, looking around at the fact that it was just you up here.

“my what?” you say, looking up at him through furrowed brows.

“you know,” he waves his arm around as if that would help, “you’re ladies in waiting,”

you scrunch up your nose a little bit, something he noticed you did when you were confused.

“oh, well, my maids are working right now,” you tell him, noting that he still didn’t look any less confused.

“no, not your maids, your ladies,” he tilts his head to the side, “the girls your family sent them up to help you around.”

you stare at him, unblinking.

“the girls that are your friends, the ones that help accustom you…” gojo trials off when he realizes he’s not getting anywhere with you.

you feel even more embarrassed than when he caught you watching him, hating the way you were clueless at yet another thing in this life that no one explained to you.

“the girls you hang around with?” he finally lands on, hoping this jogs your memory.

you shake your head, eyes wide as you fidget with the fabric of your dress. his eyes fall onto your finger, lingering on the fact that you’re not wearing your ring.

“who do you spend your time with throughout the day?” gojo seems even more lost than you. he’s seen you with…? well surely that one time…?

“by,” you swallow, embarrassed, “by myself. i walk around a lot.” you admit sheepishly.

“your family didn’t send…?” he answers his own question with his silence.

this entire time you’ve been alone?

he opens his mouth to speak but somebody beats him to it.

“satoru! get down here! we’re still not done!” his friends shouts from below, and you look over your shoulder to see all the men staring at the two of you.

gojo stares at you, unblinking.

“i,” he swallows but can’t find any words.

you can’t either.

he leaves you there, running down those stairs as he shouts at the other guys to resume what they were doing. that entire day he was off his balance because he kept looking up to see you there, but you weren’t.

maybe you were just walking around, like you said.

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru x reader #gojo drabble #jjk x reader #jjk drabble #gojo angst #arranged!gojo

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classyrbf · 1 month ago

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thinking about jerking off nerd!gojo with your tits in his dorm room. You couldn’t care less for the loser, forced to have him as a tutor because you were failing your chem classes and needed an easy way out of your parents bitching at you. Quite literally you’ve gotten tired of hearing him talk and talk about stupid elements, formulas and equations because you’d rather much see the look on his face when he’s about to cum and hear how he sounds when he’s begging.

So that’s how you ended up on your knees in front of him, shirt unbuttoned and your tits covered in his pre cum, his thick and veiny cock pulsing between the two mounds of flesh as you move it up and down his sensitive shaft. His breath hitches, cheeks flushed a bright red, hands shaking as he struggling to push his glasses back up only for them to slide back down. “F-fuck,” he so sweetly whimpers, licking his dry lips. He loves the way you’re looking up at him, like you’re staring into his soul while simultaneously taking it. His heart pounds against his chest, relishing in the feeling of your soft skin hugging his aching cock, your warm tits only giving him an idea of what your pussy might feel like.

“Nngh, oh f-fuck…we’re…supposed to be…studying,” he managers to croak out through his pathetic moans and whimpers. His sucks in a breath, eyes rolling back when you go even faster, the sound of wet flesh smacking against each other makes the perverted part of his brain go into overdrive. He’s so fucking close.

“Awe, but don’t you wanna cum, Toru?” You teasingly ask, watching the way his throbbing red tip leaks another bead of precum only adding to the lubrication. The nickname alone drives Gojo crazy. He fists the sheets below him, jaw slack, a dazed look in his eyes. “We’ll make a deal, yeah? I’ll let you cum and do this as many times as you want as long as you do my chem work for me.” You smile, holding your tits tighter. “Deal?”

“Ok, ok, ok.” He ferociously nodded, biting down on his bottom lip. “I wanna cum so badly, please.” He let out a ragged breath, falling back on the bed as his body began twitching, hips jolting upward to create more friction. Just in mere seconds, ropes of sticky, hot cum shot up, landing on your tits. “Shit, shit! Ah, ah, nngh!” Gojo’s eyes rolled back. This feels like the most he’s ever came in his life. His legs began to shake the longer his orgasm lasts, groans and whimpers escaping his throat, filling the small room. His raspy breaths fall short, finally coming down from his high. He can barely even think straight now.

“God, you made such a mess!” You huff, looking down at your coated tits.

“Oh, uh—I’m sorry!” Gojo quickly sits up, panicking as he searches around for something to help you clean up. He swiftly hands you one of his shirts, handing it to you. You snatch it from his hands, wiping up every last drop of cum before tossing his shirt to the side. “Are you…um—”

“I gotta go.” You stand up, buttoning your shirt. “Thanks for agreeing to the deal.” You lean over, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Gojo watches as you leave his dorm room without a care in the world, acting like you didn’t just milk him dry with your tits. At least he has something to look forward to every few days now.

#—☆classyrbf #jjk #jjk x reader #jujustu kaisen #jjk smut #gojo x reader #gojo x reader smut #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader smut #gojo smut drabble #gojo drabble #gojo satoru smut drabble #jjk x reader smut #jjk smut drabble #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #jjk gojo

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kamitv · 1 month ago

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▷ Seven — Explicit Ver.

Synopsis . JJK men fuckin' you right on Valentines day night. / Pairings . (Separate) Toji x f!reader, Nanami x f!reader, Gojo x f!reader, Choso x f!reader, Sukuna x f!reader, & Ino x f!reader / Content . afab!reader, needy men, slight possessiveness, oral sex (m!receiving), pussy slapping, lots of teasing, handjobs, premature orgasms, subby!gojo (kinda? girl idk), soft dom!choso, lovemaking, bondage (nanami), pet names, spitting, praise, a hint of brat taming here 'n there, non-curse au, dirty talk, filth, fluff (if you squint maybe), overstim, etc. / wc . 9k (whoops lol)

A/N: Happy late Valentine’s day ladies 'n gents, hope you enjoy!! I totally didn’t get distracted by playing lads instead of finishing this. Just pretend this was uploaded on time, yeah? Thx. [MDNI]

ᡣ𐭩 Toji Fushiguro

“You can handle it, c’monnn,” Your boyfriend–, no, your fiancé (as of today) grunts out to you in between the mean thrusts he’s gifting you with.

Your fingers are busy clawing at the sheets below and you’ve got the prettiest arch for your lover. With your ass perked up in the air and his fat throbbing cock stretching your cunt so messily wide as drool slobs out your mouth and wets up the bed beneath you. You’d been fucked so dumb already and yet there he was still talking you to filth anyway.

Lopsided scared lips curving up into a smug smirk, Toji brings a hand down against the fat of your ass. Grunting, “There ya’ go, jus’ like that doll, handle that fuckin’ cock. Uhuh…”

You were–or, trying to, anyway. He’s almost always rough like this but shit even after years of being with the man, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to the girthy inches of his cock. Hence why your eyes are meeting the back of your skull and you’re babbling soft moans of his name down into the bedding.

“T-Toji,” You mewl sweetly, prompting a mean reel of his toned hips back back back until his sopping tip is left leaving a lewd lil’ kiss against the slit of your cunt. A filthy string of slick droops between the two of you and he tuts.

“Hm? What’s wrong?” He huffs with a tilt of his head. That large hand of his gives your already hand-marked ass a gentle rub-over while he awaits your shaky reply. Your lashes are busy fluttering and you don’t even continue your statement—instead, you wiggle your hips back, urging for him to push into you again.

It’s then that Toji gets what you want and decides to tease you just a bit more, taking his heavy cock into his hands and moving to tap the head against your left ass cheek. “Whaat?” He utters breathily, almost as if he were mocking you and cooing at you simultaneously, “You want me back inside ya’?”

Nodding dumbly, you just barely angle your head to look back at him and you’re met with his intense hazy verdant gaze. “Mhm,” You grumble to him.

In comes that cocky smile of his and he completely removes his hands from both you and himself, clasping them behind his back for a moment as he redirects his gaze down to what little space remains between his cock and your pulsing hole.

“Heh,” He scoffs shortly and then nods his chin down at the lewdness below him, “Work for it. Lemme see that hand,” Toji directs, to which you hesitate little to shift your hand under your body and in between your legs, fingertips grazing his sensitive balls for half a second before you messily wrap your hand around his cock and tug on him carefully. “Fuuck,” He smiles at your fingers perfectly hugging his throbbing shaft, “That’s a pretty rock I gotcha’, isn’t it?”

Oh, right. How could you have possibly forgotten the reason he’s been acting the way he has all night. You’re engaged now. He proposed earlier that day right after dinner and it was the most romantic thing ever—of course he had you wear that ring for the rest of the night, even while he fucks you stupid.

“Mhmm…” The sound of Toji’s throaty hum makes your cunt shiver in pure need. You carefully angle his cock toward your pussy and catch a glimpse of him drooling a little before he swipes his tongue over his lips and pulls his lower one in between his teeth. Voice dipping an octave lower, “Keep goin’, guide me to her.”

Shifting your knees backwards against the bed and closing the distance between his length and you, you decide only to get back at him for a few seconds and purposefully swipe his angry cockhead up ‘n down against your slobbering folds. You watch the way his eyebrows twist up and his lips part softly, a breathy sound dangerously close to a whine falling from his dampened mouth.

“Don’t do that, baby,” Toji whispers, quickly moving his beefy hands to your hips and pushing himself forward. “Y’know how much I hate bein’...” His jaw falls open as you interrupt his sentence by merely pulling his cock an inch inside you, “...T-Teased-, shit.”

You continue on like that for a while, fucking yourself solely on his plump cockhead and getting drunk off the feeling. Not to mention the heavy grunts Toji releases as you keep control. His eyes are so greedy on you and he simply can't get enough.

Your sappy walls hug the ridges of his cock so snug that it makes his breath grow heavier by the second even though he's not fully inside you. “Fuck." Your fiancé muttered, "Look at you, all perfect jus’ f’me.”

You're slow to retract your hand and focus all your movement into your hips, feeling him give you a lazy roll forward as his cock slots back into your cunt in one slippery motion. Letting off a moan of his name once he casually reaches the hilt of your pussy, “Toji..”

He swallows down whatever pathetic noise had been on the verge of escaping his throat and gives your hips a tender squeeze, “Hmm?”

You forget why exactly you called his name for a hot second due to the way he picks up this slow but deep pace with you—a complete contrast to earlier. Your face turns into the bed for a moment and you whine, “Hnngh…" Lips parting hotly against the sheets, you eventually manage out a muffled, "'Love you."

His cock throbs inside you and you gasp at the way he snaps his hips forward unintentionally, moving his palms to the bed at your sides and leaning down to you, “You love me?” Toji taunts, earning a cute nod of your head. “Yeahhh? Go on, show me then. Show me how much you love this cock right now,” His hand slithers under you and you feel his weight press against you, deepening the aching inches inside you whilst his thick calloused fingertips meet your clit.

He doesn't even have to clarify what he means by that because you're making the filthiest mess around his cock for the nth time of that night and he's smiling over you, “Uhuh. Juuus’ like that, pretty.”

A pitched sound leaves you but you manage to find yourself again somewhere within your high, lifting your head and huffing, “S-Say it back,” Before glancing to him and shooting him a glare, accompanied with the same pout he think he fell in love with, “...A-Asshole.”

Toji rolls his eyes profoundly at that but he smiles, “Yeah, yeah, love you too, brat.” Then you feel yourself collapsing into the mattress as he leans all the way down to your ear, presses a haste kiss against your skin, and then whispers, “Can’t wait t’marry you.”

ᡣ𐭩 Nanami Kento

It's Valentine's day night and yet there you were still having to beg your husband of many years for something. Moaning, “Ken' please.” While you flash your best pleading eyes and stare up at the man.

Ever the gentleman, Nanami merely smiles at you as if he were confused, “Please, what, my love?"

Your brows twist up and you bat your eyelashes at him, glancing down to watch the way he rudely slaps his heavy cock against your cunt again, “Stop teasin’.”

Your overly handsome husband has the audacity to smile at your sudden command, “Oh? But look at you now," He says in that gentle baritone that makes your cunt clench around nothing, "You’re drooling for me..."

You wanted to say something else, y'know, argue and beg him to just fuck you already but when he lifts his cock away from your pussy entirely, all you can do is let out a pathetic whine. The sound prompts a slight spurt of precum from his tip but just to make things a lil' messier, Nanami brings his free hand up to his mouth and your eyes widen as you watch him.

Now, you've always known that your man was a gentleman during the day and a complete freak at night but god does he never fail to make your breath hitch. You watch him with glossy eyes as he spits a wad of saliva onto his finger tips, bring them down to his cockhead, smears the liquid messily over his tip, faintly moans, and then gently thrusts himself right up against your clit.

With a nasty slip against you, Nanami is left panting. His cheeks are flush with a warm shade of pink and you can feel your entire body heating up more and more by the second as he continues to tease you to tears.

You thought he'd stop there and give you what you wanted but no, the moment you moan out his name, he grows the desire to drag all this teasing out even further. Dragging his cock back against your heat and smearing his pre all over your sloppy folds, Nanami groans.

"My gorgeous girl," He murmurs to you. Though, you're not sure if it was to you or your cunt. You believe it's the later as he takes his unoccupied hand and uses his thumb and index to spread the lips of your pussy open—following this action up with another lift and mean slap of his cock, a slick wet sound entering the air as he does so.

Your back arches up a little at that and it becomes apparent to you for the first time in a while since you'd gotten to this point with your husband that, well, he's got your hands tied up over your head. You couldn't reach down and urge is cock inside you even if you wanted to (despite the bondage being your idea).

So, there you are, legs spread open like some slut-, his slut, panting and huffing at how badly you're aching for him to be inside you. Your cunt tensing around nothing with every heavy thwack of his cock and wad of spit he dribbles down onto the filthy exposure.

It's not until Nanami rolls his dripping tip around your clit in taunting circles that you start genuinely losing your mind. Your hands squirm to move at the sensation and your husband remains almost as composed as ever while watching your face twist up into pleasure. Your lashes are batting and you're releasing a soft string of moans, whispering his name, and lifting your hips in desperation.

To which he simply presses a hand down to your hip and pins you to the bed. Then he stares dead into those loving eyes of yours and starts swatting his cock head left 'n right against your twitching clit. Oh now he's just being mean.

You start pouting and open your mouth to say something, only to be cut off by a clear moan bubbling out your throat as Nanami drags his cock down, fucks himself into his fist against you, and plunges only the tip in and out and in and out of you.

"Ken please," You repeat, "Just put it in."

"I am, aren't I?" Nanami hums with a kind smile on his face.

"All of it," You grunt, trying to lifting your hips again but failing as he shoves you right back down.

Scoffing, "My wife's demanding today, isn't she?"

"You've been doing this for hours," You bite back with a bratty eye roll.

"Oh please, now she's just being dramatic. What do you say, hun?" He redirects to ask your cunt, "Think I just give her what she wants?" His cock rubs right in between your folds and you can feel the veins decorating his length throbbing. "Should I stuff you full already?"

The lack of attention to you (in a way) makes you frown, "Kento—"

"Don't be rude, sweetheart." He cuts off sharply and sternly.

You grumble something under your breath and that earns Nanami's fawn brown eyes back onto your face. It's almost intimidating the way he looks at you, a gentle glare, like he dares you to repeat yourself. Spoiler alert, you don't. If anything, you swallow thickly and wonder what's going on in his mind as to why he's staring at you so hard all of a sudden-

Nanami cuts every thought you were having off with one sharp thrust into your cunt, a nasty squelch echoing into the air along with a hitched breath from his throat. He then slumps down against you, pressing his hard chest against the softness of your own, moving his lips purposefully to the crown of your ear and tugging a bit of your skin in between his teeth.

Your arms jerk against the restrictions fastened around your wrist as the reflex to wrap them around his neck and claw at his back kicks in.

Nanami drags his hips back and the next thrust into you makes you choke out a moan right into the sex-enduced air. Your body was so so hot against his, that's why he liked teasing you so much beforehand. Sure, he could've gotten you this worked up with his voice alone but, where's the fun in that?

And as for his voice that he knows you love so much, Nanami intentionally presses his mouth against your ear and groans your name deeply. You throb so prettily around him that it makes his lips curve into a knowing smile, "I missed you.” He says into your ear.

Nanami's hands find your legs and he grips onto your plush skin firmly with those hardworking palms of his, parting you a bit wider for himself before picking up his pace.

"K-Kento, fuck!" You gasp as he angles precisely into you.

Growling hotly into your skin, “Agh, I know, I know," Nanami coos. He shifts his hips only a little and zones into that same area inside you, feeling your lips quiver around the girth of his cock, "That’s the spot, isn’t it?”

You're a bit too busy losing your mind beneath him, having already reached your orgasm the moment he slid into you and now being fucked into an embarrassing state of overstimulation. 'Guess that's where all that teasing landed you—and you have the nerve to wonder why he does it.

Chuckling at you as if he's not seconds away from stuffing you full of gooey ropes of cum, “So sensitive.” Nanami teases. He then leans up and allows his eyes to fall on your expression. You were a mess, a few tears were slipping down your cheeks, your eyes kept flickering back, and a spot of drool was spilling out the corner of your lips.

“And look at this face,” Nanami's quick to bring attention to it, to which you whine and try turning your head away from him out of embarrassment. He's been down this road with you time and time again so, all he does is bring a hand to your jaw and force you to look at him.

Inching closer to you and pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek, “You look so beautiful taking all of me like this," He praises, tongue darting out to lap up the few tears you had decorating that pretty face of yours. He was so infatuated with you. "Hear me?" Nanami utters.

You manage a messy fucked-out nod but that's simply not enough for this husband of yours. No, he's a greedy man when it comes to you.

So, Nanami moves his lips over yours and sears his words right into your mouth, "Say it," He tells you, "Tell me how beautiful my wife is."

With a strong gripping clench around his cock at that, you struggle to maintain eye contact with him during this moment of intimacy and the words come fumbling out of your mouth, "Ken..."

"Tell me," He says in a gentler tone, "Please?"

"S-So beautiful," You whimper. You're so embarrassed as you say that out loud to him but, even so, your body is feeling a bit more confident than before. Leading to your legs wrapping around his toned waist and locking him into this position with you—even though you can't verbalize it, you can physically be that confident wife he loves so much.

Which is exactly why Nanami mashes his lips onto yours once you do that and starts fucking you into the bed, groaning, grunting, growling into your mouth as his tongue sloppily meets yours.

After all, what kind of man would he be if he didn't make sure you understood how gorgeous you are on Valentine's day of all days? Which is why the remainder of the night is spent with him asking telling you to compliment yourself.

ᡣ𐭩 Gojo Satoru

Oh he’s definitely surprising you with his cock on full display for you. After spending the entire week showering you with gifts and a new surprise each day, how could he not save the best gift for the night of?

“What’s with that look on your face, do you not like your gift?” Your boyfriend, who’s currently sprawled out against the comfort of your shared mattress, asks you as you stand a few feet away simply baffled.

Blinking, you try to gather the display before you as calmly as possible. “Is this why you rushed out the bathroom like that?” You’d asked in return, referring only to a few minutes prior to this as you and your lover had bathed oh-so-romantically together.

Gojo tries his best to flash an indifferent smile, as if he isn’t utterly embarrassed right now.

You’ve got to be the only women he’d ever present himself to like this—matching bathrobe hanging just barely off of his shoulders as he lays across the bed, body dampened with water that glistens under the soft room lighting, cock exposed and throbbing as it typically does when he’s around you, with a tip that’s just as embarrassed and flushed as the rest of his body is, and a bow wrapped firmly around his base.

You hardly know where to place your eyes. He’d been basically courting you all week and loved on you a bit more than normal (which says a lot in itself because this man is just head over heels for you) just for him to end the day with one last surprise for you; himself.

Crossing your arms right under your chest and taking careful steps closer to him, a smile creeps onto your face, “I can get this anytime of the year, how’s this a gift?” You tease before dipping one knee onto the mattress.

Gojo’s rolling his eyes immediately and a pout tugs at his lower lip, “Well… I put a bow on it,” He practically mumbles out to you.

Your boyfriend really had a knack for being so utterly adorable when he wanted to. Which is exactly why you can’t help but proceed to tease him a little. “I can see that ‘Toru,” You hum softly.

And honestly, who are you to refuse a gift like this? Look at the man, he went 'out of his way' just to put a pretty lil' bow on his cock juuust for you!

Obviously you waste no time in enjoying your gift.

It started out with soft banter, a slow removal of your bathrobe, a sensual approach to him on the bed, and a quick position of yourself in between his legs. Although, it didn't take long for you to clasp your teeth onto the ribbon wrapped around him and then give it an eager tug.

By then, Gojo's breath was already heavy. How could it not be? He's got the best girlfriend a man could ever ask for in between his legs and unwrapping his cock with a hungry look in her eyes—of course he's going to have unsteady breathing.

Especially when you look up at his face as you pull the bow loose and allow it to fall out against his bare thighs. Then you're sending him a teasing wink before bringing your lips to the head of his cock. And oh he was leaking the entire time, cum dripping all down the sides of his lengthy cock before your lips fully met him.

Gojo always found himself to be a weak man in the face of you, no matter what he did, and today was no different.

Your freshly manicured nails are the only thing he can focus on to keep himself from cumming on the spot as your hand wraps around his base and you lull your tongue out to meet the crown of his cock.

Giving him one teasing kitten lick, you sigh, "Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are 'Toru?"

You're trying to kill him, clearly. If his face wasn't flushed before, it damn sure is now. This is the only reason why he tries his best to avoid letting you give him head, he always ends up like this—cheeks as red as ever, cock twitching wildly in your hand before he even enters your mouth, and voice coming out with a faint crack as he tries to respond to you.

"N-No," He responds. There's this pitch in his voice that makes your cunt throb. You never knew Gojo Satoru to have a voice crack like that. You hadn't even done anything yet. He's quick to clear his throat though, "I mean, only you've told me that."

Your plumped, lightly saliva-glossed lips wrap around the tip of his cock and his head immediately flies back. Hah, yeah, he's not lasting too long like this. "Do you like it when I tell you how pretty you are?" You whisper softly.

His blue eyes are fixed up on the ceiling now and as you continue to look up at him, you just watch the violent bob of his adam's apple as he gulps. "'Course I do," Gojo tries to say confidently, "I like anything you tell me, sweets."

"Yeah?" You purr. Ah, shit. Maybe he shouldn't have said that. "Can you look at me, Satoru?" You request softly.

Mhm, he's done for. Not able to tell you no or ignore your gentle request, Gojo forces himself to tip his head back into place and look down at you. Cum starts dribbling out from his fat cockhead again but that's not what makes him lose his mind, no.

What really gets him is the way you stick your tongue out and make him watch his lengthy inches slot into your mouth. Saliva spills past your lips and wets up the rest of his length that your mouth doesn't reach, in which you spread around with your hand as you rotate your palm against his shaft.

He can't help the full body reaction that invokes. He almost immediately sits up a bit straighter and moans, "Fuck.. Can you warn me next time before you just—"

His jaw falls slack the moment you pop your mouth off of his cock and start jerking him off with whatever saliva is left lathering his aching length. Snowy white brows twisting up in a mix of pleasure and confusion, Gojo loses his breath as you lean up to his face and meet his lips with a messy kiss.

"Mmgh," He groans against you, moving a shaky hand to your waist as he kisses you back passionately.

When you pry away from him, you grin. "You like anything I tell you, right?"

He nods, "Uhuh..." Gojo's eyes are low on yours and he wonders where exactly you're going with this. He can't think too clearly with the way you're jerking him off but—

You cut his brain off with a sensual whisper near his lips, "What if I told you about how much I like havin' your cock in my mouth?"

He cums. Right then, right there, in your hand, as prematurely as ever. And that, that is exactly why Gojo hates when you give him head. You can't help but look down at the mess your boyfriend's made of himself in your hand. So much came out that it makes you giggle.

And the fact that you've get to stop moving your hand only makes him choke out your name. To which you tune out, too focused on how much cum is still spurting out of his glazed tip. Then you make this face, as if you were satisfied with just that and...

Gojo thinks he falls in love with you all over again. He spent all week catering to you, today especially, and normally he's the one who has you like this by the end of a special night but here he was—pathetically falling for how much you seemed to enjoy seeing him like this.

Seeing him...submissive.

Yeah, but don't worry. This is only a Valentine's day thing. Trust and believe he will be reversing the roles in a moment. Y'know, as soon as you remove your hand from his cock and stop staring at him like you want to devour him whole.

ᡣ𐭩 Choso Kamo

“It’s yours Cho’, take it.”

Did you have any idea what you were even asking for sometimes?

How could you moan out something like that when he’s mid-stoke and expect him to hold back? Of course his hips are gonna start stuttering against you and he’s gonna thrust his thick cock a bit harder than intended as words stumble out his mouth, “H-Huh?” Choso gasps, dumbfoundedly. “But, I wanted to cater to you tonight..” He pouts.

Even while literally being on top of you, gently pressing your legs against your chest, and stuffing you full of his rudely curved cock, he still had a way of being so soft ‘n kind to you. A shade of red decorates his cheeks and the tips of his ears and he’s got that lovestruck look in his eyes as he admires you below him.

Sending him the same smile he fell in love with, “You always cater to me, baby. S’okay, I don’t want you to hold back anymore.” You tell him.

Choso swallows thickly and he halts the movement of his hips for a second, leaving his throbbing cock bulging against the walls of your slobbering pussy. “But, Valentine’s day…” He trails off carefully and his brows meet in confliction, “I should be making love to you—”

Your hands move to cup his cheeks into your palms and you giggle, “You make love to me all year long.” Tugging him down and forcing his eyes to focus solely on your own, “Look at me,” You breathe out, feeling his dick twitch inside you. “Tonight… I want you to fuck me.”

“Princess,” Choso grunts, falling forward a little and motioning to kiss you. Part of him wanted to shut your mouth with his own. If you kept talking to him like that, he was gonna act on desires he’s been suppressing for a long time.

You let him kiss you for a couple of seconds but soon pry your lips away with a wet pop, whispering, “I know you want to,” You point out, earning a mean press of his hips and causing his cockhead to greet your sweet spot with the filthiest french kiss, “Ah… A-And you’ve been such a good boyfriend to me, so—”

Choso tugs his hips back and his expression changes immediately. From soft ‘n loving to something more serious, more feral, “Say that again?” He rasps out.

Your eyelashes meet a couple times in shock at his quick change in demeanor but, you don’t hesitate to hum out to him, “You’ve been a good boyfriend to me.”

His eyes get lower and suddenly his voice is growing huskier, “And the other part? What you said before that.” Choso asks, leaning up slightly and letting your hands leave his face.

“I want you to fuck me,” You repeat, confused as to what exactly this is about to earn you.

The last thing that leaves Choso’s kiss-bitten lips is a low curse of, “Shit.”

Maybe it was the first thing you said that threw him off, the whole thing about how it’s his and he should just take it, or maybe it was the look in your eyes, or even those last two statements. He’s been a good boyfriend? You want him to fuck you?? Shit, how the hell is he supposed to function properly after hearing that?

Which is exactly why it doesn’t take him long to do as you’ve asked to and fuck you down into the bed in the meanest mating press.

Cock bullying into your soaking cunt, husk groans exiting his throat, and hands all over your body to grab and hold onto any bit of your hot skin he can get to—Choso’s treating your pussy ruder than he ever has before. The nasty squelch that echoes into the air after every thrust, the way you moan his name out sexier than he’s heard you before, and the cute twitch and clench of your cunt around his cock all drive him even crazier.

You find yourself embarrassed by how quickly he makes you cum by acting the way he is and you move your hands to cover your face. Choso’s never felt this way before but the sight of you being too shy to show him your expression while he pounds into you makes him a bit greedier.

“Don’t cover your face,” Choso huffs out, “Lemme see you.” Before you could even move one of your hands away, he wraps his fingers around your wrist and tugs it away from you. You gaze up at him all wide-eyed and lost in pleasure, watching pants leave his lips and the way his hair messily falls over you. Getting a bit rougher with his thrusts and watching your eyes get even wider, “This is how you wanted me, isn’t it?” Choso asks.

You’re quick to shoot your other hand to his chest and your nails claw at his skin as you give him the weakest push, jaw stupidly hanging open with moan after moan sliding out your throat. “C-Choso,” You choke when he makes this specific face—almost as if the sight of you pushing at him for a break made his brain short-circuit.

Pupil dilating and cock pulsing inside you, Choso nibbles on his lower lip for a second to bite back a smile before grunting heavily, “You’re pushin’ me away,” He points out before dropping his weight onto you even more. “S’cute…” Choso huffs thoughtlessly. He’s beyond pussydrunk at this point, and hardly even realizes what’s coming out of his mouth. Groaning, “Ugh, I-I thought you said it was mine? Didn’t you want me to take it like it’s mine?” He sears, “Fuck you like I belong t’ya?”

A whimper flies out of your mouth because he’s only emphasizing his every question with a heavier thrust of his cock, gaze locked onto your own so he can watch the way your eyes roll back in bliss.

“That’s it,” Choso whispers to you before lifting himself a little, letting go of your wrist, and bringing that calloused hand of his down to the lower half of your tummy. Then he presses his palm down, “Can you feel me right here?”

Slurred together, “M’gonna cum,” Starts pouring from your lips over and over in a faint whiny whisper and your boyfriend simply fucks you right through it.

Smiling, Choso seems to purr his words out, “Yeahh? C’mon then, cum on this cock,” He grunts, speeding up his pace as he feels you gush all around him, “Get it nice ‘nd messy, princess.”

Your eyes are at the back of your skull by that point and your body quakes beneath your boyfriend. You didn’t know his mouth could be so nasty with you—in a verbal sense, anyway. And the way he was staring down at you, soaking up every moan and mewl that left those pretty lips of yours, fuck it made you wonder why you didn’t ask him to do this sooner.

You’re not sure if he’s ever made you cum that hard before (he has, you’re just a bit too fucked out to remember right now). So, as you come down from your high, he slows himself down, smearing the mix of your cum and the slick that’s been drooling from his tip all against your pulsing walls. Your pants come to a steady halt once you catch your breath and you glance up at him with this dazed look plastered all over your face.

Choso brows furrow and he nuzzles every inch of his cock into you slowly, holding himself back from fucking you into overstimulation, “S-Shit, don’t look at me like that…” He mumbles to you. Aaand just like that he was back to normal, averting his gaze and everything, “Makin’ me nervous..” When his eyes do find yours again, he leans in to engage in an intimate whisper, “Was that too much?”

You fight the urge to use whatever you have left of your stamina to laugh at him. Shaking your head, you palm his cheek again and pull him down to kiss you. Then, you speak in between his lips, “Want you to do it again, Cho’.”

His breath hitches, “O-Oh, you like that?” It takes a second for that to register but when it does, he nods and leans up, confidence returning just like that. “Mh, I’ll keep that in mind for next time. Didn’t think you’d like my mouth to be jus’ as rude as my cock is with you.”

ᡣ𐭩 Sukuna Ryomen

“What a stupid Holiday…” Sukuna grumbles out to you not to long after the two of you had arrived home from a rather romantic date. “This is no different than what we normally do," He scoffs, referring to the way you're propped up on his lap right now.

You flash your boyfriend a sly smile and rock your hips back against the bulge that’s poking up against your cunt, “Yeah, but you’re twitching more than normal, ‘Kuna.”

He kisses his teeth and glances away from you dismissively, his grip on your hips tightening. “You have been depriving me of my needs all week,” Sukuna grunts out as you rub over a particularly sensitive part of his cock.

All these stupid layers in between you and him were driving him insane. He had half a mind to toss you into the back seat ‘n rip the flimsy dress you’re wearing right off but after putting him on a sex ban from the last holiday (Christmas) that he did that… he decides to control himself a bit more on this day.

“The buildup will be worth it,” Your voice sounds weirdly sweeter than normal. It’s almost though every syllable that slips off of your tongue makes his entire body react. It was weird. You were weird.

Scoffing again, “I’m sick of this ‘buildup’ nonsense.” Your boyfriend complains to you again.

Your hands trail up along his broad shoulders and you lean closer to him, breasts grazing his beefy chest as you do so, “Sukuna—”

He’s quick to snap his eyes back onto yours due to the closer proximity and there seems to be a faint softening in those typically hard red eyes of his. “Let me at least touch you,” Sukuna murmurs. You swear you notice his face flicker into something almost needy for a split second but perhaps you imagine it.

Or at least, you thought you imagined it until your boyfriend leans closer to you and slithers one of his arms around your waist—the other slipping down to sneak beneath the fabric of your dress and meet your bare skin. Then, he stares directly at your lips, “...Please?”

You’re taken aback by the word that just left his lips. Sukuna Ryomen, your boyfriend of two years, begging you for something? Perhaps he hit his head sometime earlier. “Did you just beg?” You chuckle out lightheartedly, not exactly taking him seriously.

Sukuna remains indifferent, as if he said nothing out of the ordinary. “I did,” He hums, dropping his gaze down to your body atop his and squeezing your leg a bit, “Lift your hips, angel.”

You blink. Then, you feel his cock practically jump under you as your next word leaves your lips, “Sukuna are you…”

Even though you trailed off, he was losing it. You hadn’t let him do anything sexual with you in weeks and today of all days was more tortuous than any other. The dress you wore to dinner, the red lipstick stains you pressed into his neck before you’d even went out, your scent—fuck, you smell ten times sweeter than normal. Maybe it’s just because it’s been a while but, either way, the simple utterance of his name for a third time in a row makes his body so utterly anxious for you.

“I am aching to touch you,” Sukuna huffs, a hinted groan lying beneath his words as he shifts his face into the crook of your neck and inhales strongly. Then, his fingernails dig into the skin of your thigh and his voice grows rougher, “Lift your fuckin’ hips.” He demands, pausing for a couple seconds to let his eyes fall to the back of his head in reaction to the throb he feels against his precum smothered cockhead. “…Please?” Sukuna whispers.

And that was all it took for you. You never knew him to beg and although it was extremely foreign to hear the first time, you wouldn't exactly ignore how sexy it sounded leaving his lips.

He always demands and sometimes asks—never forces, of course, but never ever begs… until today, that is. So how can you possibly find it in you to deny him any longer?

Slowly, you begin to raise your hips and at that very second, you look down and notice his own rolling upwards as he adjusts himself in his seat. He may have asked you to lift but he didn’t think much about how that meant he wouldn’t be feeling your warm panty-clad cunt against his bulge anymore.

With a throaty grumble, Sukuna rubs the bridge of his nose against the skin of your neck and he moves one of his hands in between your legs, “...Thank you.”

Everything about your body was so so addictive. The way you gasp lightly as he presses his fingers against your flimsy panties that hug your cunt so snuggly, the slight arch in your spine, and the way your hand meets his wrist at the touch all drive him mad with lust.

Sukuna could feel his heart pulsing in his chest in a way that was unusual. He’d never felt such strong waves of need until now.

The pads of his two thick fingers rub right in between your slick folds against your panties and he smirks, “All that talk about ‘buildup’ and yet you were more anxious for this than me.” He points out, feeling the twitch that follows his words.

He slowly tugs that soaked fabric to the side and as soon as his fingers rub against your cunt bare, you gasp again. Maybe you were needier than you’d let on. Sukuna retracts his hand for only a second and brings it to his mouth, pressing them against his lips and letting your slick rest there for a moment before returning his fingers to your dripping hole.

Then, you just barely watch him lick his lips and grunt at the taste right against your neck. Then he kisses you and positions two of his fingers to your entrance, easing them both in seamlessly while trailing his kisses up to your jawline.

Whispering hotly into your skin, “Look at that, took me all the way in only one thrust.” He breathes, drawing his fingers outward steadily and feeling the clench your pussy tries to hold him with, “S’warm in here,” Sukuna moans a little and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him like this before.

Dipping his digits right back into you, your boyfriend works your squelching cunt with ease, soon pressing his thumb against your clit and groaning while you moan over him, “Mmgh, I missed playin’ with her like this. She’s so reactive…”

You were losing your mind just as much as he was, eyes frantically traveling over to his car windows and wondering what someone would think if they passed by and saw this. He didn’t have the darkest tint in the world and even though it was nightfall, a person could gather a erotic idea of what was taking place inside the vehicle rather easily.

A heavy pant falls from your lips, “Hah, w-we should stop, ‘Kuna. What if someone sees—”

“Who cares? I am celebrating my woman on this ‘special’ day,” He tells you, upping the thrust of his fingers ever so slightly as he lifts his head from your neck and looks at you.

He couldn’t get over how much you were soaking his fingers right now, slick trickling down along his skin, decorating his wrist with pretty filth. Oh, you were everything to him—not that he would ever tell you. Instead, he smiles and curls his fingers deep inside you, “Pleasing her special spots, watching her pretty face twist up, cherishing her… loving her.”

Your legs twitch to clamp together at the sound of that. With glossy parted lips, you flash your boyfriend a dumbfounded look, “D-Did you just say you love me?” You utter as the faintest smile of satisfaction tugs at the corner of your mouth.

Sukuna maintains eyes contact with you and shoves his fingers deeper just to watch you lift your hips a bit as if to escape, “In a way, I suppose I did say that, huh?” He laughs a little and his head tilts to the side when he feels your walls throb around his two fingers, more of your slick gushing past your messily parted folds and wetting him up even more.

“Oh, was that to your liking? What if I say it more directly?” He moves to your right ear and says confidently and heavily with that rough voice of his, “I love you.”

Your face falls forward onto his shoulder and you moan messily into him, thighs tensing, and teeth baring just to bite down on him a little as you’re fingered right over the edge. An almost annoyed groan exits your throat and you find yourself frustrated at how embarrassingly quickly you finished.

Now laughing at you, “That’s all it took for you to cum?” Sukuna teases, pulling his fingers out for a second and leaning back to get a glance at it, “Look at this mess you’ve made, ugh.” He hums, parting his fingers and watching the way your release drips all messily along his skin.

“S’your fault,” You puff out against his shoulder.

His smile widens as if he were proud, “My fault? Hm. I suppose I should take responsibility then, yes?”

You lift your head a little and look down to his lap, knowing exactly what he means by that. Then, your gaze raises to his face and you quirk a soft brow before moving one of your hands to adjust his seat.

Sukuna scoffs lightly and leans back against his steadily reclining seat, cocking his head to the side and eyeing you up and down. When your let-back of his seat comes to a stop and there’s enough space for the two of you to move your limbs more freely, your hands find their place on his chest and you trail down. “You wanna.. in here?” You murmur curiously.

“Mhm, smart girl.” Sukuna praises just as your hands meet his waistline. Then, he looks down and nods his chin to your hands, “Now, unzip me.”

ᡣ𐭩 Ino Takuma

After spending all day loving and clinging to you more than he normally does, Ino practically forgot to do anything remotely sexual with you. It wasn’t exactly a priority for him on this day. Why would it be? All he wanted to do was see his stunning girlfriend keep that pretty smile on her face all day, sex was the very last thing on his mind.

Though… it becomes rather apparent to him while the two of you are cuddling late that same night. It’s about half an hour past eleven, he’s laying big spoon to you with your back pressed against his chest and your ass flush with his crotch—not that he over-sexualized the position, it was simply cuddling.

It’s not until the show you guys were making fun of switches to a full on passionate sex scene that his eyes ever so naturally shift from the TV and to you laying against him. One of his arms had been idly wrapped around your waist but not even two minutes into the scene and he started moving it. His fingers begin to splay across your stomach and he rubs his palm over the fabric of your shirt for a bit before deciding experimentally angling his head down into your neck and planting a kiss to the side of it.

Just as he dips down, your entire body reacts and you smile. “Takuma?” You whisper whilst his hand creeps to the end of your oversized t-shirt and then slips beneath it so that he can feel on you skin to skin.

Mumbling and trying his best to keep his smile back, “Hm?”

Your head turns back to him and he lifts his mouth away from your neck to meet eyes with you. “Did that scene get you worked up?”

It’s then that it dawns on you for the millionth time that your boyfriend is really just the most delectable man you could’ve ever laid eyes on. Curious brown gaze gleaming down at you as he sits up a little, soft set grin spreading across his face, and voice leaving his throat as gentle as silk, “Not really,” Ino whispers to you. “I jus’ wanna love on you, baby.”

“Yeah?” Your smile widens and he takes that as his sign to lean in and connect his lips with yours.

It's a tender moment between you two at first. Soft pecks that both of you chase for as the other pulls away ever so slightly carefully turn into something more heated. Ino’s lips lock onto yours firmly and he pushes against you, his hand rising further up under your shirt before his palm meets your breasts and he gives you a gentle squeeze.

Groaning into your mouth at the simple contact of your hardening nipple to the center of his hand, Ino can’t help the push of his hips against your own. After that, his touches only grow greedier and greedier. Few words are exchanged between the two of you—only grunts, groans, and breathy moans enter the air for a while as you both melt into one another.

You’ve no idea how much time passes before you end up with two of his skillful fingers working the inner depths of your leaking cunt. His breath is now hot against your ear, “So wet… all I did was kiss you a couple of times,” He chuckles playfully.

A whine leaves your throat and you feel his fingers rub eagerly inside you, “I want more.”

Ino gets a little nervous at the sound of that but, he plays it off as if he were still the one in control of the situation, “Aw, is this not enough for you?” he taunts.

You shake your head and move your hand down over his, guiding his fingers deeper into you.

He starts to get the idea but, instead of fingerfucking you like you so clearly want him to, he tugs his digits out and casually cocks a brow, “Hm. So, what do you want then?”

“You know what I want,” You say, groaning at the loss.

Your boyfriend shrugs innocently and a playful smile dawns across his lips before he looks elsewhere, “Maybe, buuut I wanna hear you ask for it.”

Not hesitating one bit, you lean up closer to him and briefly pull his lower lip into your mouth and suck. Ino’s eyes fall down on your movements and you go from sucking on his lip to kissing him fully, to which he folds. And if that wasn’t enough, when your lips do sever from one another, you whisper, “Can you fuck me, Takuma?”

“Hah, anything for you, beautiful,” He whispers, quickly caught off guard as you turn around to face him full and moving your hands down to his sweats, “O-Oh, we’re eager, are we?”

“Want you inside me,” You grumble, hand sinking past his sweatpants and straight into his boxers to tug his hard cock out.

Ino had let out one last curse in reaction to your eagerness but he damn sure didn’t deny you of anything. It’s not long before you’re lifting one of your legs and he’s stuffing himself inside you as you both continue laying on your sides facing one another. Your leg hooks onto his hip and he ends up with a mean grip onto the underside of your thigh.

Your legs are all intertwined with one another and Ino’s groaning into your neck while he feeds your greedy cunt his cock over and over again, sucking your skin into his mouth, and leaving all sorts of marks on you.

At some point he lets off a moan and feels your pussy grip onto him even tighter than before in reaction, “Like that?” He whispers, taking your next moan as a response, “Uhuh, I can feel it.”

His voice is so caring and attentive with you, despite the constant stretch of his dick past your folds, slick spilling all out your lips and creating the sloppiest mess of wetness where the two of you are connected. His plump cockhead is giving the depths of your cunt the tenderest smooches, obscure sounds leave both your mouth and your pussy with his every thrust into you.

Catching your expression particularly lewd, Ino tries to bring your attention back to him and not his cock for a second, inching closer to your face just to talk to you, “Did… ah, did you enjoy your day, baby?”

Just as he says that to you, you feel his cock glide into that one spot that makes you see stars for a moment. Your jaw falls and you just give him a dumb nod, he’s fucks you so unintentionally good that it makes you lose all trains of thought in only a few minutes—and god when he actually puts in some effort? Now, that’s when you start letting out moans loud enough to earn complaints from your neighbors.

But for now, Ino doesn’t have to do any of that. You’d been secretly worked up from the moment you woke up to breakfast in bed and now that he’s finally giving you want you’ve been craving, you find your body especially sensitive to his every move and word.

Ino, as oblivious as ever, simply grins at you, “I enjoyed my day too, mhm.” He hums, eyes all over the way you’re falling apart on his cock right now. His hips snap forward a little harder and the arms you have wrapped around his neck grasp on to him more, nails scratching at his back in reaction—which leaves the prettiest bright red marks he’ll be sure to admire later.

You let out an embarrassingly loud moan at the sudden jerk of his hips and try hiding your face. Ino scoffs before pushing your body over. You fall onto your back and he remains on his side, lazily continuing the sloppy fuck of his cock into you.

“Don’t go gettin’ all shy on me now,” He says with a kind smile, flicking a hand down to thumb at your clit, “That’s my job, remember?” Your back arches up off the bed and you struggle to look at him, “C’mon, keep those pretty eyes on mine. Mhmm, just like that.” He praises.

A gorgeous string of moans leave you as he pushes one of your legs to get you spread apart even further. Which quickly ends up with him positioning himself on top of you and thrusting into you with more eagerness than before. You’re not sure where his sudden urge to press you down against the mattress comes from but he sure as hell starts beating his leaking cockhead right into that spot he knows drives you crazy.

And as if to contrast the abrupt bullying of his throbbing inches into you, he leans his mouth up and kisses your forehead softly. It was as though his next word was a warning in regards to the way he’s about to treat your cunt, “Love you.” Ino whispers.

Yeah, he only says that during sex when he’s either about to cum—which usually consists of those two words being uttered over and over, but one single claim of loving you always leads to your legs parted nice and wide for him so that he can look down and watch his cock disappear inside you.

Which is honestly one of his favorite sights, especially when you let him cum inside you, then he gets the chance to watch the creamy mess struggle to stay in your cunt. What better gift to the two of you on this day than that?

A/N: Join my 18+ discord server for sneak peaks on upcoming works & more!

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