#abe looks good in that shirt though

[tonycries]

Isn't That Sweet? (I Guess So) - G.S.

Synopsis. Oh no! Why do your pantíes keep disappearing? Well, maybe your hot roommate knows the answer…

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, pànty-stealer! roommate! Gojo, annoyances-to-lovers, he’s REALLY down bad, vírgin! Gojo, oraI (fem receiving), màle màsturbation, pining, face-sítting, jealousy (his side), fírst times, unprotected, creampíe, teary Gojo, pànty-gagging, HEINOUS things, pet names, aIcohol mentions, swearing.

Word count. 8.6k (whoopsies)

A/N. Hope y’all have a lovely week hehe <3

“Damn…” you sigh at the glaringly empty drawer, rubbing your eyes as if that would make a difference - maybe even magically materialize a fresh pair of panties in front of you. “It’s the second time this month.”

Or was it the third?

But, alas, standing around in your bedroom on a Sunday night does not give you the answers. Or any extra underwear.

Which is why you find yourself making a beeline for the bathroom - teeth gritted, stomach flipping at how very, very exposed you felt underneath the thin fabric of your shorts. Cursing everything from the building’s rundown old washing machine to Gojo’s stupid smile when he took away your laundry basket.

You could’ve sworn you saw your last pair perched right on top of your pile of old clothes, all flimsy and an obscene red that stood out amongst everything else. 

Seriously, how hard would it have been to lose that thing? Maybe you could bother him into buying a new washing machine for-

“Woah there-” Before you know it, you’re crashing face-first into a wall? Pillows? Gojo - unfairly shirtless. “Now, what’s got your panties in a twist, sweetheart?”

The lack thereof. 

Maybe because you can’t say that, maybe because of what looks - feels - like miles upon miles of milky, sculpted skin, you’re instead settling for an extremely eloquent, “Nothing I uh-” But whatever excuse catches in your chest as you raise your face - still smushed between two large pecs - up, up, up and-

Oh. 

It’s not like you’re seeing something new - far from it, actually, unfortunately for your poor heart.

And at first, you’d thought it was some strange habit - hell, maybe the guy just didn’t like t-shirts. But it was around the fourth or fifth time he’d forgone one that you realized Gojo Satoru was just a tease. A no-good, insufferably smug tease that just loved to catch you ogling him. 

But, well, at least the rent was cheap.

Though, you weren’t exactly complaining about the view either…

Because lo and behold stood the infamous campus sweetheart - you knew about fourteen people who’d kill to see this exact sight. Gojo’s cloudy hair tousled, tiny droplets of water twinkling like diamonds against the bathroom light. Bouncing off his rippling abs, his strong arms circling your waist to stop you from falling backwards. Holding you too fucking close against the white towel slung low on his hips. His skin damp, smelling so delicious-

“Gojo, did you use my body lotion?” 

“Awww–” he whines, finally releasing his grip on you. “You were supposed to admire me some more.”

You scoff, eyes darting over broad shoulders - partially to search for your laundry basket, partially because you really couldn’t handle looking right at a shirtless Gojo Satoru any longer. “As if. Get out if you’re done.”

“Damn, woman. Feisty.” Gojo lets out a deep chuckle - smooth and cocky - when you’re hastily shoving him away from the doorframe. “If you wanted to put your hands on me that bad then you jus’ hafta ask, y’know~”

It was way too late for this. 

“Hilarious.” you deadpan, though you let go of where you were gripping Gojo’s arm like it burned. Immediately stepping behind the bathroom door before he could make you lose whatever’s left of your sanity, “Next time you hog the bathroom m’gonna smash those ugly new sunglasses of yours.”

He’s pressing his foot between that gap in the door to stop you from closing it, “Oi, don’t think I don’t see that glint in your eyes, sweetheart.” Yeah, the glint in your eyes that told you if looks could kill then Gojo would be six feet under already. Which only makes him grin wider, “You’re telling me you really weren’t checkin’ out the most sought-after man on campus jus’ now?”

Huffing in frustration, you cross your arms, “I don’t see Geto Suguru anywhere.”

“...you take that back right now. I’m the pretty best friend.”

“Am not.”

“Am too.”

“Am not. Isn’t that why you’re still single?”

“Th-that’s not- fuckin’ Suguru? Really? Most people would kill for a look of this-” Gojo gestures at his bare torso, and once more you’re reminded that those absolutely awful protein shakes he makes every morning aren’t just for show. “-and you’re getting it daily.”

You reach out a hand, Gojo chest hot underneath your touch. He seizes up instantly, ears tinging red as you muse, “Yeah.” Only to push him fully out the doorway, “I just wish you’d shut up daily, too.”

With that, you’re shutting the door with a resounding slam! Feeling only slightly guilty until you hear Gojo’s squawks of protest from outside, “I really don’t know what’s got your panties in a twist.”

Right. Panties.

Something just a tad more important than recounting exactly how many abs Gojo Satoru had.

You let out a shuddering breath, clamoring to find that spare laundry basket you’d forgotten in here earlier today. Shuffling through through the soft clothes, hoping, praying to find-

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. 

Fuck. 

Somehow, you’re hiding away your body lotion that night.

---

“Now, listen here, sweetheart. I know you look fuckin’ gorgeous in everything but-”

“Satoru.”

“But that-” he whirls around, pointing a long finger accusingly at the boxers you’d improvised into sleep shorts. Spitting venomously, “-that I cannot allow.”

You’re rolling your eyes at your roommate’s theatrics, forking through your pancakes while he monologues to himself more than you. “Why does it even matter? It was just for yesterday.” you mutter. “I didn’t have any clean uh- panties for the night n’ this worked.”

Thankfully, since the fresh laundry this morning, you’d found two more of your panties - courtesy of a very smug Gojo handing off your clothes. Ah, it felt like the universe itself was smiling down on you.

But oh if you thought the great Gojo Satoru was having a breakdown before then you weren’t prepared for when you lifted your gaze off the kitchen table. Only to meet his - eyes wide, a pretty pink blush coloring his cheeks, lips gawking and stuttering around what looked like a silent, “P-panties-”

You raise a brow, “What’s got you this worked up, Gojo?”

“Nothing.” he clears his throat, “Absolutely nothing at all. Panties? I love- er, wait no-”

“B-besides-” you bristle at the way his heavy gaze was now turning to flit between your face and down below. Dangerously. “They’re not even yours so I don’t know why it matters.”

This seems to snap him out of his little reverie, and he’s immediately standing up straighter, brows furrowing. He continues, in a much more serious tone than before, “They’re his?” 

You stab your breakfast with a bit too much vitriol than necessary, looking at Gojo with narrowed eyes, “If you mean the one my ex left behind then yes. Who else?”

Your ex wasn’t good for much - and Gojo seemed especially hostile towards him because of his distaste for your little living situation. But, hey, at least the guy was helping you out at this time. Albeit unknowingly. 

He’s raising his hands in mock-surrender, shuffling back into the kitchen to work on the rest of those “world famous” Gojo pancakes. “Nothing nothing.” he hums, and maybe it was how sleep-deprived you were - running on a few too many assignments due today and a few too little panties - but you think Gojo’s voice has a bit more bite to it than usual. Jaw clenching as he plows on, “Of course that fucker- in my- our apartment, too. Fuck-”

A spatula is suddenly mere inches from your face, Gojo brandishing it in front of you like a weapon as he declares, “We’re going panty-shopping after Yaga’s lecture today.”

“Gojo, I-”

“We-” he cuts you off, delicately placing another pancake on your plate - a little truce. So close now that it reminds you of last night - you could feel his minty breath on your face, count every long, sultry eyelash of his. “-are going panty-shopping after Yaga’s lecture n’ I’m paying. That’s final.”

And of course, in true Gojo fashion, you can barely get a word out before he’d immediately ducking out of the kitchen. You almost let your lips curl into a smile, hit with a sudden wave of endearment as you hear Gojo’s long legs padding urgently down the hallway to God-knows-where. Maybe he did know when to be-

Smack!

You jolt as you’re hit with a pair of boxers - fresh ones, thankfully, that you recognized from all the clothes you’d rummaged through last night - plopped unceremoniously onto your lap. Jaw dropping in disbelief when you look up to meet Gojo’s devilish grin. 

“Next time-” he winks, motioning at the fabric you were poking in concern now. “-wear mine.”

The talk of Yaga’s lecture hall that morning was of a pair of burned boxers found right outside your building, everyone speculating what the poor guy had done to have his presumed girlfriend make an example of it like that. 

For you, however, the only thing running through your mind was whether or not you could count properly.

Because surely you remembered it correctly when you counted two new underwear this morning - that gauzy black one and the deep red? Two. Definitely not the singular, sad piece of red fabric laying on your bed after breakfast today? Two. The only one you could find even after scouring through your whole bedroom. 

So where the fuck had that other one gone?

---

(8+ new messages)

Do not answer (roomie)🧿🧿: Hurry up ive been lurking inside that lingerie shop ya told me you liked n’ now the old ladies here look like they wanna eat me alive ＼(º □ º l|l)/

im boooored, gonna stand still n’ start blending in with these mannequins if you dont hurry up istg

Hurry

HURRY

HURRY THEY THINK IM SUSPICIOUS

PLEASE THEYRE GONNA ESCORT ME OUT

┬┴┬┴┤･ω･)ﾉ i literally SEE YOU outside 

BITCH STOP LAUGHING-

No sooner are you letting out a cackle at Gojo’s rapid-fire texts, you’re looking up to see the man himself being walked outside by two security guards. Squabbling heatedly in a way that had them heaving out long sighs - which, honestly, you felt a stab of relatable empathy for.

“-I swear I’m not a creep I’m jus’-” Gojo’s bickering dies on his tongue as he catches the sight of you walking closer to the commotion. Closer. Taking your sweet sweet time, eyes just barely glazing over him before- you’re walking away. “Hey!” he calls out, stopping you in your tracks. “Now, don’t you dare-” Before turning back to his wary escorts, “I’m with her.”

They exchange a look between each other, and no matter how much you’d like to pretend the scene had absolutely nothing to do with you - you’d rather Gojo doesn’t get banned from the mall altogether. 

“He’s right.” you drone out, one hand grabbing Gojo’s, the other forcing his head into an apologetic bow. Hissing to the side so that only he would hear, “Unfortunately.”

The two security guards now seem more amused than anything at your strange dynamic. One of them raises a brow, muttering, “Well…this one’s certainly a handful.” Turning around to head back to their stations, “Ya better keep a tight leash on your boyfriend.”

You sputter, eyes wide, “Oh- he’s not-”

But it’s too late - they’re both swiftly out of earshot, most likely more than happy to hand over the public nuisance off to you. And Gojo’s looking to you with a smug smirk, voice dropping about an octave deeper as he breathes against your ear, “So, gonna take your boyfriend to help out with lingerie shopping, sweetheart?”

Oh. God. 

This was going to be one long day.

“I’m only here because another one of mine disappeared, y’know.” you hiss, rifling through all the options before you. “Which really has me wondering why-”

“H-hey! How about this one?” Gojo interrupts, shoving a lacy set right in front of your face, his voice just a bit louder than what was appropriate. 

You sigh, catching the eyes of a few disapproving older women around you. “No this is-” But running a thumb over the fabric makes you bite back an insult. And for all how brash Gojo was, maybe his panty selection wasn’t awful. It was a flimsy little thing, gauzy and light blue - the type you’d typically wear on a night out. You meet his boyish grin, admitting, “...not bad.”

“See?” he laughs - eyes glinting with delight as he piles on a few more in your basket. “N’ if you’re impressed with that then you’re gonna be proposing to me when you realize it’s exactly your size-”

You quirk a brow, “How do you know my size, Gojo?”

And this makes his body stiffen, large shoulders squaring up, throat bobbing as he answers,“Uh? Experience?”

Oh, right. You’re rolling your eyes, fighting off a weird little stab of irritation. This probably isn’t the first time he’s come here with a girl, anyway. 

And yet, despite however much of an alleged “catch” Gojo was, he’d - perhaps mercifully - never brought anyone over. You don’t know why, but you didn’t really want to question it.

“A-anyway.” Gojo’s airy voice cuts through your thoughts. And he’s plucking up a few more sets of lingerie for you to sort through, “Can’t let these one, two, three- six lovely lil’ things go to waste now, can we?” At your look of confusion, he chuckles, guiding the two of you to the counter now. “Suguru’s holding a party at his place tonight, how would you like to do the honors of being my cute plus one?”

“I’d rather go with Yaga.”

Though, you really can’t say no - not when Gojo’s flashing you that black card as he pays for everything in an instant. Not when all he can prattle about on the way home  is how gorgeous you’d look together at Geto’s party - how you’ll have to beat everyone off of him with a stick (to which you reply that you’d no sooner do that than beat him with a stick.)

Not when he sits outside your bedroom door as you get ready later that night. Insisting on keeping you company even as you slip out of your towel. Looking over your shoulder to make sure he wasn’t peeking in before eagerly turning to grab at one of your new set of silky white panties- only, they weren’t there.

Strange. 

“Hey, Gojo…” you call out, looking underneath your blankets for where you might’ve thrown them about after trying them on. Under your bed, in your drawers, anywhere. “-didn’t we buy six sets?”

“Huh? Dunno, I didn’t count. Just wear the blue one.” he whines, ushering you to hurry up from outside. Face burning because shit, this was you and you were inside - still wrapped up in only that sinful little towel. Oh, would the painful death really be worth it if he happened to accidentally look around? “S’pretty and y’know what else?”

Your voice was muffled as you hastily put on your clothes, “What?”

“It matches my eyes.”

Really strange.

---

Thankfully for Gojo, you didn’t go with Yaga to the party - nor did you find your lost pair of panties, sadly, but that wasn’t too much of a concern for him. 

And here he was - one hurried Uber ride and about several billion death threats from you later. Wishing that you’d actually just acted on one of them because fuck at least then he wouldn’t have to be watching from across the room as some bastard from the university basketball team tried to chat you up.

Gojo can’t even hear the way the girls surrounding him were giggling about something or the other, alcohol making his tongue a little heavier, eyes a bit glassier. 

Nothing like the way that other man was drinking in that polite smile on your face. Tilting your head to face forwards and- God, why won’t you just look at him instead?

Would that guy still look at you that way if he knew you were wearing lingerie matching his eyes right now?

“Not gonna entertain your fans?” Geto’s voice rings through his whirlwind thoughts, eyeing down the forgotten crowd in amusement.

“When have I ever?” Gojo runs a hand through his hair in frustration. 

He lets out a knowing laugh, “Yeah, you little vir-” Turning into a coughing fit when Gojo elbows his best friend straight in his stomach. “Anyways.” Geto gestures with his drink in your direction, as if Gojo hadn’t seen - as if it wasn’t the only thing on his mind right now. “Well, your lil’ roomie there seems to be popular, too, huh? Star player of the basketball team n’ all. 

He clicks his tongue, slumping further against the thumping wall. “So? I’m taller, and more handsome.”

“Are you sure ‘bout that?”

“Y-yeah?” he sputters. 

“Well then why aren’t you over there with her?” Geto hums, lips curling. “Looks t’me like even she doesn’t like him that much so why’re you being a pussy over here? Always sneaking around stealing her-” 

“Shut up-” And Gojo knows he’s riling him up, he knows that Geto wants to see a little drama - maybe finally shut up his pining over the one girl he’s wanted for the past year - and couldn’t have. It’s a trap. But Gojo can’t stop his head from snapping between you and his best friend’s sly smirk. Slurring indignantly, “Of course I’m fuckin’ handsome, n’ taller. I’d make a better boyfriend too and-” He trails off at the sight of that loser leaning in - but more importantly that tiny furrow in your brows, your hands on his chest softly keeping him at bay. “-and m’gonna go over there n’ prove it.”

“Ah, that loser’s gonna thank me later.”

And, hell, Gojo could barely even walk. Barely even think straight as he’s parting the stuffy living room, ignoring whatever whispers and titters were following him. 

“I said no-”

“Hey, sweetheart.” you jump when someone - Gojo - creeps up from behind you. Large build hanging off your own when he nuzzles his face into your neck. And you could feel his toothy grin on your skin, “Missed me?”

Your face burns, “I uh-” Angling your face as dignifiedly as possible to face your roommate, “Gojo, are you drunk?”

“Drunk on you, yes.”

“What the-”

The man in front of you pipes up - shuffling uncomfortably on his feet. “Didn’t realize you were taken. My bad.” Looking like he’d rather be anywhere but under the scrutiny of Gojo Satoru. His big arms tightening around your middle - when did they even get there? “I’ll just uh- get out of your way, man.”

“Mhm, by the way,” Gojo puffs up his chest a bit, clearly towering over the other man - ha, take that Suguru. “Nice loss against Kyoto last week, real knee-jerker.” 

You smack Gojo’s chest at his rudeness, to which he only smiles wider. Watching the other man being swiftly handled away by another apologetic member of the basketball team.

“Gojo.”

And before you can react, Gojo’s dragging his pretty plump lips along where that light blue band of your bra was just peeking out, murmuring lowly, “Love it when you scold me like that.” Still refusing to let go of you despite the jealous looks thrown your way, “Let’s go home, my girl.”

Oh, the look on your face was priceless. 

He just wished he could fish out his phone and record, or maybe even tell Geto to take a picture - help him make it his wallpaper. And he did - over fifteen times, in fact, as the two of you helped drag him away from the thrumming party. Geto doesn’t listen, of course, and you neither do you - grumbling out a slew of profanities underneath your breath that makes the Uber driver look at the two of you weird.

And yet, Gojo’s biggest issue right now was trying to climb up these fucking stairs - not when they were trying to run away from him. 

“I swear to God, Gojo-” you huff, chest heaving under the weight of walking - well, more like dragging - your roommate up to your apartment. Knees wobbly - maybe at the intensity of his cologne, maybe at the way his biceps were flexing on your shoulders, probably at how fucking useless he was. Damn lightweight. “You better cover my rent for the next year for this.”

“Of course I will~” his hot breath tickles your ear, “Anything for m’girl. I’ll take care of us forever, don't you worry your pretty lil’ head.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t deny the way your heart clenches - just a little bit. And if you’re slamming open Gojo’s bedroom door with a little more force than necessary, well, at least he’s a bit too impaired to nag at you about it.

He bounces lightly when you throw him on his plush mattress, giggling softly, “You should just join me, y’know. Have a little sleepover.”

“Drop dead.” you monotone, not even daring to look back at him while you shuffle through Gojo’s shirts. Throwing one over your shoulder at him, “N’ wear this, I just know you’ll complain about messing up your favorite button-up tomorrow morning.”

“Aww, you always take care of me so well, my girl~”

That familiar little nickname makes a shiver run down your spine, and it’s all you can do to concentrate on shuffling through Gojo’s drawers in search of his shorts. Absent-mindedly reaching for the lowest drawer and-

“Wait!” 

You jump, whirling around to catch Gojo sitting up ram-rod straight on the bed, eyes wide, hand reaching out as if to stop you. Swallowing thickly, you ask. “Gojo?”

And he jolts - like the very sound of your voice is sending electricity zapping through his veins. Abruptly scrambling off the bed before resting two hands on your shoulders, gently guiding you away from the drawer. “My shorts are uh- in my wardrobe, heh. Sorry about that.”

Furrowing your brows at the sudden twist, you squirm in his grasp to look at the drawer again. Failing - when Gojo keeps his grip steadfast, “Why’re you acting so-” 

“How about we order take out? My treat?”

And that night, tucking yourself into bed, you should be falling asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow. You should be caring less about that strange little outburst of Gojo’s inside his room. You should have realized sooner - those light blue panties you’d worn tonight were gone. No longer in your hamper of old clothes.

And there was only one thing to do. 

---

Gojo thinks he shouldn’t - fuck he knows he shouldn’t. He doesn’t even want to- well, that last bit was a lie.

Gojo Satoru first met you about a year ago, when you’d come knocking at his door asking about his ad for a roommate. It was more because he was bored inside this big apartment by himself than anything, really, but here you were all gorgeous and sweet, flashing him a smile that was burned into his mind for the rest of the week, at the very minimum. How could he ever say no?

And when you’d taken to walking around the apartment in those slutty lil’ shorts as a way to get back at his perpetual shirtless-ness? Thin panties just peeping out of the low hem? 

God, it was everything he could do to not run to the bathroom with each little glimpse. He was fucked, so very embarrassingly fucked. 

He just never thought it would get to this point - the first time had been an accident, honestly. When your laundry had gotten mixed up with his. Surely he didn’t remember having such a cute pair of pink panties in his closet? And surely it didn’t mean anything if he just-so-happened to stash them away, right?

At least, that’s what Gojo told himself the first time. And the second. And the third. And shit, it was a bit of an addiction now, and within a year of rooming with you, he’d accumulated a drawer stuffed guiltily with exactly what he shouldn’t be having. 

Gojo Satoru - insufferable campus sweetheart, the dreamy first place on everyone’s To-Fuck list - had been hoarding away your pretty panties. Like the pathetic virgin he pretends he isn’t. 

And so here he was - that dirty little drawer flung open, pants pulled down just enough, one hand flat on the flat surface to steady himself, while the other fisted desperately around his swollen cock - and one of your panties. 

“F-fuck, sweetheart.” he’s hissing, body shuddering in lewd little tremors at that torturous drag of fabric down his length. Squeezing at his thick base, moving fast - filthy up, up, up to thumb along the end of his sopping slit. “Feels s’good- too fucking good hngh-”

Such a pretty, wet gasp escapes him when your soaked, absolutely ruined underwear catches on his veins, tangling around his sensitive shaft. And he’s biting his lip, trying not to make a noise when he threads through the mess down below. 

“Oh fuck, yer killin’ me even when you’re ngh- not here.” he breathes unsteadily, weaving the sticky fabric around his long fingers. Tight - just how he knew you would. “S’like you know what you do t’me with these.”

They were your blue ones, this time - the ones from just last night. The ones you were wearing not even a full day ago. And Gojo has them wrapped daintily around his rock-hard cock, stark against the blushing red at his fat head. Already so drenched in precum as he fucks his fist. 

“Y’looked so p-pretty with these, sweetheart.” he groans over the wet fwip! fwip! fwip! Eyes rolling to the back of his head with each long, feverish stroke. “So pretty being mine. Ngh- so pretty in my- fuck.” 

Slam!

He’s hitting his palm facedown on the wood, knees buckling, eyes scrunching shut with pleasure. 

And that ruined, utterly depraved part of Gojo wonders whether next time he should steal your bras too? Have the full set of you proudly wearing his color like some secret little slut for him. 

He’s letting out a ragged little laugh, oh how cute you’d look all confused. Nipples hard through your flimsy excuse of a t-shirt while you looked around for them. While you asked him for help. 

Oh, just the thought of that has Gojo’s red, furious cock beading glossy drops of precum at his tip. Leaking a sinful, slippery sheen down his wrist. “Ah.” he lets out a guttural groan when his angry dick twitches in his hand, falling onto his elbow on the drawer. Not having the strength - or the sanity - to keep himself up anymore. “Look what you’ve-” Gojo’s eyes catch sight of a flash of red inside, sounding so wrecked. “Look what you’ve done.”

And those obscene red panties are snatched up by his free hand in a second, not even a second wasted before Gojo’s bringing them up to his face. 

Fuck. 

“Look what you’ve done. Look how ngh- filthy you’ve made me.” he whines, muffled. Hips fucking up in quick, uncontrollable little thrusts into his closed fist. Voice a pitch higher as he spits out embarrassing little accusations, “How pathetic. Gettin’ fuck- gettin’ off to this? Me of all hah- people like this? Can’t imagine how f-fucking mad you’d be.”  

Would you figure out it was him? Would you look in his drawer again? Teach him a lesson or two about being such a pathetic little pervert for his roommate. 

Maybe - just maybe - if Gojo plays his cards right, gets on his knees and begs for mercy, then you’d let him keep his little treasure. 

He throws his head back in a humorless little laugh when his aching hand slows down to languid, unforgivable tugs. He had time, anyway, your classes ended late today. Torturous - exactly the way he imagines you’d drive him mad. “Heh- wish this was you.”

You’d be so much meaner, pressing down on that little divot at his tip, flicking teasingly like you were trying to fuck out something delicious. You’d be running your nails down his achy veins, running your soft palms around his painful balls. 

You’d whisper, “This all you got, Toru?”

“Oh fuck!” Gojo moans, raspy little sounds of what sounds like your name filtering through the crevices of his fingers, your panties. “Fuck fuck fuck- gonna cum.” he whines. Heavy balls smacking back into his thighs with each thrust into your imaginary hand. How he wished you were here. He’s managing to wrench his eyes open to spy down at his sloppy cock - needing to see how your cute lil’ panties would look painted all white for him. How he wished you- “Gonna-”

Oh. Fuck. 

You. 

“Aw, why stop now, Gojo?”

You’re leaning against Gojo’s open bedroom door, flashing him such a sultry little smirk. Your voice almost a purr when you echo, “I said…” Before taking two long steps to where he stood frozen, “Why stop now?”

Gojo lets the damp fabric held up to his face drop in guilt - yet the other stays firmly wrapped around that hand cock of his still in hand. 

“S-sweetheart what are you- why-” And perhaps for the first time in the twenty-something years that Gojo Satoru has terrorized this planet, he’s speechless. Worry-bitten lips sagging open stupidly, “I- this is-”

You cut him off, “So you’re the panty thief.” So close now that Gojo’s dick was throbbing at each heave of your chest, the way you were squeezing your thighs together. Eyes sliding down his body to rest at the mangled mess of your all-new panties around his painfully hard cock. “I knew it.”

“I can explain-”

“All those times pretending to help me?” you bat your lashes in a way that makes him gulp. Words dripping with the same tease he’d imagined in daydreams just like this. “When you were the pervert stealing my panties? Are you even ashamed?”

Gojo flushes an innocent pink, excuses tumbling out of those pretty lips immediately. But they sound like lies even to him.

“This- ngh-” he’s rolling his hips forward when you slide a smaller finger down his arm, between his pecs, almost the way down to those tufts of white. “Fuuuck- y-you’re not mad? Are ya the devil herself cuz you’re gonna- ngh- kill me this way.”

Humming, “Class was canceled, but of course - don’t hah- stop on my account, Gojo.”

“Toru.” he’s gasping out, a low moan wrenching out of him when he’s bowing his body into his fist again. Squeezing - almost warningly - at his hilt. “C-call me Toru. Please.”

And fuck he could’ve cum right then and there at that devilish little smile you give him, biting down on your lower lip - inches from his that it felt like you were biting down on his. Maybe you were, shit Gojo didn’t even know right now. 

“Toru.”

That’s all it takes for Gojo’s lips to be crashing onto yours. Biting back a little whimper at the messy clash of teeth, of spit, because one taste of your candied lips and he was already so addicted. 

“Mmpf-” Gojo gasps, chasing hotly after your lips. Eyes half-lidded to watch the snapping of those delicate strings of saliva, “You’re- you’re so-” And he’s way too impatient to get out his words, licking heatedly at the slit of your mouth. Over and over and over-  “As bad as me- ngh-”

“Are ya sure about that?” you grin, cunt clenching at your roommate’s pained grunt when you pull away. “Because look-”

And the both of you are stuck on the way Gojo’s moving again, hips fucking up in jagged, mindless little grinds. Like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. Like he didn’t even feel the way his leaky tip was smearing along the front of your sinfully short skirt. 

“Can’t help it.” he whines, kissing down your neck. Hips urging forwards to slip up the thigh-length fabric, and when you don’t pull away, Gojo drags your skirt up, up, up with his pulsing length, “You don’t know what you do to me- fuck.”

His jaw falls slack, ogling at the sight of your pretty pussy on full display for him. Already so glossy with your sweet sweet juices, needy between your restless thighs. Bare. 

And this might be the first time he’s seen a cunt in real life but Gojo already knows - he already feels - that she’s gonna be the death of him. 

Sharp teeth nip at your bottom lip, tugging. “What the fuck-” Gojo breathes - more to himself than anything. “What the fuck what the-” Bringing down his free hand to run the pads of his long fingers along your puffy folds, as if to confirm whether this was real. “-fuck! Going out like this? You’re even dirtier than me, huh?.” 

“What can I do?” Sliding your arms around his broad shoulders, palms running along the heated skin. Back arching to grind down on his hand, “Someone stole all my panties.”

Your words fall on deaf ears, because Gojo doesn’t hesitate for even a second before he’s bringing his dripping wet fingers up to his lips. Smoldering eyes looking right into yours when he pops them in his mouth. Sucking them dry. 

“Oh fuck, sweetheart.”

In a split second, you’re being splayed out on Gojo’s king-sized bed like such a slut. Bouncing at the sheer force of the throw. And it happens so fast that you almost think you’re seeing things - but, no, the way you’re bouncing against the silky sheets was real. Your skirt bunching up at your waist was real. 

Gojo’s hazy gaze getting stuck right at the spot between your legs was real. 

“Shiiiit.” he murmurs, low and gravelly, like he’s moving through molasses. Stalking towards your trembling figure as if hypnotized, “Oh, she looks even prettier this way.”

You shuffle in embarrassment, pressing your thighs together, “Toru-”

But he doesn’t hear you, instantly scrambling onto the bed. “No- no no no no no-” Just wrenching your legs apart with his hands. “No, you don’t get to hide th-this from me, you don’ know how long I’ve waited for this. How much I’ve imagined-”

You’re gasping when he runs the tip of his index between your sopping wet slit, coating his fingers in your juices once more. Teasing. “N’ so wet. This all f’me? God, can’t even- ngh-”

“So eager.” you mumble, fingers threading through Gojo’s soft locks to pull him in so close. To drag him towards where you needed him the most. “Why don’t you jus’ shut up- N’ put that big mouth of yours into use somewhere else?”

His eyes widen, words a whisper, “C-can I?” He doesn’t wait for your response before flipping the two of you so easily. Having you toppling precariously on his lap now, “Can I really? Never done this before.”

Never?

It’s not before he lets out a shy huff, that you realize that you said that out loud. “So what? S’that bad?” Two large hands groping and kneading your ass to keep you in place, “Ya didn’t actually ngh- believe all those stories on campus, did ya?”

Squirming at the feeling of his massive girth rubbing up against your swollen folds, “D-doesn’t matter.” You grit out, “You can…”

And no sooner are you seeing Gojo’s megawatt smile, you’re already feeling it between your thighs. Being wrestled up like some glorified ragdoll, dragging your sloppy cunt all the way up to straddle Gojo’s pretty face. 

“So, this is what she ngh- looks like.” he whines, hot breath lapping at your quivering pussy. “Shit, she’s so wet I could almost-” You’re gasping when the man below you simply sticks his awaiting tongue out, admiring your pussy while letting your syrupy sweet slick drip! drip! drip! down his throat. “This all f’me?” 

The only thing you can give him right now is a needy little whine - which makes Gojo kiss the fat of your ass with a sharp smack! Biting his lip at the way it jiggles against his hand, “Tell me, where did my feisty girl go?”

That lewd little nickname has you scoffing in pathetic frustration, your grip searing on his scalp when you force his obscene mouth closer. “Y-you seriously need to-” Pulling, “-shut up, Toru.”

And oh, you’d played right into Gojo’s devilish hands. This was exactly what he wanted - to have his face stuffed between your limp legs, ready mouth meshing messily with the folds of your dripping cunt. “There she is.” he moans, the tip of his tongue slurping up the sloppy dredges of your slick. Carding between your pussy lips, “Oh- fuck there she is. Yeah use me like that- use me.”

He’s running his mouth a mile a minute and you wonder how. Because Gojo was lapping at your cunt so feverishly, everywhere - from your inner thighs, to your folds, to just around the circles of your sloppy entrance like he wanted to taste it all. And couldn’t decide where to go first. 

“T-Toru.” you let out a honey sweet mewl of his name when the tip of his nose is rubbing against your clit. “There. Right there-”

Eyes rolling to the back of his head when he easily locates your sensitive nub. Wrapping those ruby lips around your clit to give an experimental suck. 

Shit, he could almost pass out from how heavenly you look on top guiding him. Your entire body jolting with each roll of his hot tongue, giving him such a pretty view of your tits up your silky shirt. Just dragging your sloppy cunt all into his mouth when he toys with your pulsing clit. 

“Oh fuck!” your hips are darting away with each zap of electricity sent down your spine. 

Which, for Gojo - who’s only ever dared to dream up this moment on those lonely nights - isn’t enough. 

“Know m’new to this, sweetheart, but stop bein’ nice n’ fuckin-” He’s pulling on the crease of your waist, dragging you to rest your entire weight on his face - his mouth. “-sit.” You’re keening when Gojo forces you to collapse on his soft tongue, bullying past your puffy folds and into that sloppy ring of muscle. Jus’ barely dipping past the resistance, “I said use me so fuckin’ use me. Don’ care if I can’t breathe - if I fucking suffocate- ngh- m’gonna die if you don’t just sit.”

“Fine.” You cry out when the curve of his tongue is molding into your gummy walls, pushing recklessly past. Not even fucking easing you into it before he’s fucking you on his tongue. Calculated, mean little thrusts in search of all your sweet spots. “No half-assing then, m’kay?”

Though, you had the feeling that he would do anything but. 

“Good, now keep still.” he’s scolding, one hand starting up again in those slow, satisfied tugs on his length. “Please keep still.” And the other dancing between your legs to push a finger inside your snug cunt. “Mmm it’s a tight fit, can feel ya clenching around me. Ngh- always wondered how it’d feel- where that would be.”

Blinking away the haze in your eyes, you look down at where Gojo was already locked on you, “Th-that?”

“That.” he breathes into your cunt, voice reverent as he speeds up. “S’your pussy gonna tell me where your good spot is? Gonna help me ngh- learn?”

And to your embarrassment - and Gojo’s smug satisfaction, it only takes a few more hurried strokes of his tongue before he’s nudging against your g-spot. Both the texture of his tongue and his long, cold fingers curling to assault the poor bundle of nerves. 

Your body bows deeper as if on auto-pilot, “Oh- fuck! You fucking- hngh”

He’s snickering at the way you’re so responsive, cock hard - and only swelling girthier in his fist with each adorable moan falling from your lips. 

“Oh yeah? There? Ya like this?” he moans, “Ya like shutting up the ngh- p-pervert that steals your panties with your cunt?” 

Getting faster. More attuned to his feral need. 

Lips smacking in tempo with those obscene squelches, you can’t tear your eyes away from the way his cheeks hollow. Fingers still so rapid, moving to make out and toy so messily with you clit - untimed, sloppy but fuck did you love it. 

“Y-yes.” you’re shoving his mouth guiltlessly deeper. Letting his long tongue explore every crevice and inch of you. Sloppier. So, so filthy. “Love it- fuck- you’re such a fast fucking learner.”

“I know.”

There was that cocky Gojo Satoru you were used to, lips curling into a strawberry pink smile around your clit - all glossy and sweet with a sheen of your slick. Making such a mess of the lower half of his face, his chin, shit, all the way down to his jaw. 

“M’close-” you choke out at the sight, “M’so fuckin’ close- gonna- gonna cum on your tongue, Toru.”

“Look at you ruining me.” his words hit you hard on your sensitive cunt, sending shockwaves up your arched spine. Obscene little smacks of his lips following your barely-lucid mewls.“Absolutely defiling me. Are ya proud of nghhh fuck- yourself?”

It’s all you can do to manage out a strained, “Yes! Yes yes yes yes- God, m’so close, Toru/ Gonna cum m’gonna-”

You don’t even realize it when you’re cumming at first, just that you’re riding Gojo’s unfairly pretty face in harsh grinds - just the way he liked it. Jaw grinding against your cunt, chin hitting you with each slutty jerk of your hips, letting you use him all you want to ride through your high. 

And his fingers are digging into your hips, stopping you from pulling away even when you were snow. Even when you’re sobbing in oversensitivity. So painfully good. 

“Ngh- T-Toru–” you’re slurring out, his name thick on your tongue. “M’not gonna cum on your dick if you k-keep hah- acting this way.”

Only then does a pussydrunk Gojo Satoru raise his bleary eyes back up at you. Giving you a strained little grunt of acceptance, before parting ways with your pussy with a lingering, wet kiss on your clit. Barely-audible as he whispers, “Gonna see ya soon.”

You don’t have the time to think about his newfound addiction. Because in all of three seconds, he’s plopping you back down so prettily on his lap. Purposefully feeding your sopping wet slit his weeping red tip. 

“Please.” Gojo’s usually-arrogant grin has fallen into such a pretty pout with one graze of his length sandwiched between your folds. “I did good, right? Please ngh- so I th-think if I made you cum then I get to hah- fuck you how I want.”

And it’s not that you didn’t appreciate it before - but looking at his thick tip pushing up against your cunt right now has you recognizing that shit, Gojo is massive. 

Fat head blushing a pretty reddish, leaking so messily down, down, down those glistening veins at his side and to the creamy ring at his base - from when he’d cum, just from eating you out, you realize with a jolt. His girth so intimidatingly thick, long enough that you know you won’t be walking for a week straight, at least. All throbbing and angry with every second he isn’t buried to the hilt inside your cunt. 

Gojo Satoru is massive. 

“Like what ya see?” he echoes your thoughts, a soaked thumb coming down to pry apart your glossy folds. Grinning at the way your hole was already so needy and clenching around nothing. “Think m’the ngh- perfect size for this pretty pussy?”

Through it all, you find it in yourself to muse, “Only one way to find out. Gonna let me be your first, Toru?”

And then he’s pushing in, shallow, high little gasps bursting from his lips with each inch being bullied into your plush cunt. 

“O-oh fuck-” Gojo can’t stop himself from taking a good look at the way your pussy lips are bulging around him. Jaw dropping at the way your greedy entrance is only sucking him up more and more - trying to bite off more than you can chew with the way he was in so deep but barely even halfway in yet. “S’too good- oh my god- fuck I think m’gonna die. Is it s’pposed to feel th-this good?”

You’re running a hand gingerly through Gojo’s mussed-up hair, smoothing down the sides sticking up where you’d been pulling on it. “S’alright, Toru.” you soothe, letting him grind up into you. Trying to fit more - all of it. “You’ve got it- you’ve hah-”

You let out a pathetic little whine when his tip kisses your cervix, legs flexing around his toned waist. 

“Oh- ohhh fuck-” he’s barely able to string together coherent sentences now. Eyes falling till their half-lidded, body moving before his mind when he pulls yours stuck to his. “S-soo good n’ I haven’t even- oh!” His voice goes a few octaves higher when Gojo finally starts moving. “How can- it feel this good, hng-”

And shit for being inexperienced, he was fucking up into you so mean. Just in short little thrusts up like he was trying to fuck you even deeper - trying to squeeze inside more of himself impossibly. 

“Some- ah- some more, Toru-” 

He listens, and the stretch - fuck. Gojo wasn’t even trying yet, but his girth was already massaging your gummy walls so dizzyingly good. 

“Y-you’re so- ngh-” you graze your lips across his in what can barely be called a kiss. Too messy. Too depraved. “-so deep.” Sliding a hand about midway down your stomach to press down, “Can feel you all the way in here.”

Your words are sticking to Gojo like a second skin, driving him so fucking mad. Hips smacking up into you deep until his heavy balls were slapping your ass, sculpted pelvis crashing into yours.

“Stop talking.“ he spits, “Stop talking stop talking stop- talking.” Each word is punctuated by a desperate, messy stroke. Pushing you further and further up Gojo’s body from the obscene impact. “Stop hah- talking or m’gonna cum.”

He wasn’t lying - you could already feel the twitch of Gojo’ length rubbing up against your hidden sweet spots. The furious throbbing of his veins stretching out your elastic walls. 

And yet you’re still wailing stubbornly, “B-but Toru it feels so good.” Partially truth, partially because when the fuck do you get to see him so utterly wrecked like this. Sanity dancing away from him with each syrupy moan leaving your mouth, “Your cock is too good- ngh- feels-”

“Shut up.”

Gojo can only take that much of your nonsense before he’s stuffing your mean mouth full with a flimsy piece of fabric from somewhere on the bed- no. A strangely familiar pair of panties. 

“Heh, s’much ohhh fuck- better.” he beams with pride when you’re gagging and tearing up so adorably around the light blue fabric. Ramming his cock up harder - stronger, as if daring you to make a little comment about it. “Should’ve ah fuck- known you wouldn’t make it easy f’me.”

As if to prove his point, he gives your ravaged clit a little smack! before teasing and rolling his thumb exactly the way you’d taught him to with his tongue.

And he’s scrambling to sit up, carrying your boneless body with him. 

The new angle has Gojo seeing stars, penetrating your gummy walls deeper, hitting that familiar g-spot he’s mapped out by now. “Here?” he manages to cackle, a big arm wrapping around your waist. “Right here? S’my cock hitting th-that ngh- good spot? Yer pussy is fuuuck so much easier to u-understand than I ah- thought.”

Reeling back to bounce you on his thick cock. Crashing into it again. And again and again and-

Since you can’t snap back - or even beg for more - you only let out muffled little moans through the gag in your mouth. Thighs burning as you push back in pathetic little thrusts to somehow meet Gojo’s mindless cadence.

“Oh yeah?” he drags, leaning back to help you ride him properly. “Yeah yeah do i-it hah- like that. Do it juuuust like that.” A harsh thumb rolls into your clit, making you stutter and grind yourself down messily. “Fuck- Yeah ruin me- ngh- just like that.”

His words were jagged - uneven. Spitting out of his plump lips like he didn’t even know they were every time Gojo’s fat, leaky tip was gliding across your cervix, your g-spot. Leaving possessive little bruises to claim you from the inside out. 

“C-close.” you slur out, not even sure if he could hear over the dull slap of his balls on your ass, and the greedy squelches of your cunt. “More, Toru.”

Yet your sinful, sickly sweet noises have him freezing - if only for a split-second. Pussydrunk eyes going wide, jaw falling slack in such awe. 

But before you can fully appreciate this sight, he’s starting back his depraved thrusts again. Bouncing you harder - faster. Just dragging you along every ridge and bump of his swollen cock. Fingers just a needy blur toying with your poor clit. 

“M-more?” he whines into the crook of your neck, voice breaking at the end. “More. More?” He speaks up, like a mantra. Each word sending you spiraling down Gojo’s merciless cock, Panting, “Ever since you fuck- started rooming w’me, wanted this- wanted you to hah- be my first.” Holding you in such a vice-like grip as he splits you apart on his aching cock. Harder. “You’ve ruined me-” he spits against your lips, big fat tears rolling down his cheeks. “Don’ know how many times I’ve cum to your pretty panties. Ruined me- ruined me- fuck m’so close- ruined me.” Violent, even. 

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same. 

And it’s only taking a few more unsteady jabs into your g-spot before a wave of euphoria is crashing over you. “Hngh-” you spasm in Gojo’s arms, his eyes going wide in wonder when your cunt squeezes him so fucking tight- only to-

“F-fuck!” he whines, connecting your lips to his. Kissing you even with your panties still stuffed into your mouth. And Gojo’s cumming and cumming so hard he doesn’t even think he’s breathing. Intertwining his tongue with yours to muffle his overstimulated moans, wrapping around your sweet slick-soaked panties in the middle. The contrast of his soft tongue with the lazy fabric of your panties only making you milk his poor cock harder. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck- fuck- Take it. Take it, my girl.”

You moan incoherently, going insane at the way he was filling you up with long, thick ropes of cum. Fucking deeper and deeper up into you to paint your plushy walls from the inside. 

“S’all I’ve- ngh wanted.” he murmurs throatily, such a fucking mess now. Face flushed, eyes glassy with tears, drool dripping down the corner of his mouth with the way he was sucking lewdly on your tongue. “You’re all I-I’ve ever wanted.”

Shit, he hasn’t cum this hard in his life.

Finally having had enough of shutting up your smart mouth, Gojo slows down to deep little grinds - still moving. Still trying to hold back his moans at that creamy ring around his hilt, at the globs of seed trickling out of your poor overfilled pussy. 

“Hah- Toru-” you whine when he pries away the fabric in your mouth. Shuddering with the swipe of his finger along your clit, “C-could almost ngh- forgive you…”

“The blue one.”

“What?” you’re staring at him in confusion, and Gojo’s fucked-out grin only spreads wider. 

“That was for the b-blue one.” you gasp when his balls suddenly squeeze so painfully underneath you. Cock jerking in interest, “Y’gonna have me make up for that whole drawer full of panties, sweetheart?”

A/N. VIRGIN GOJO BRAIN ROT GOES BRRRRRRRR

Plagiarism not authorized.

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓 ! ❞

❝ SATORU GOJO KNOWS JUST HOW TO KEEP YOU COOL DURING A HEATWAVE - WITH HIS D!CK !! ❞

✧ pairing: satoru gojo x reader

✧ summary: it’s a heatwave in tokyo and who better to spend it with than satoru, who has an interesting idea of how to pass the time — fucking the heat away.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, porn some plot, best friends to lovers, tiny bit of angst about suguru, inappropriate uses of popsicles, fucking in the heat, ice play, sex (p in v), oral (f!receiving), fingering (f! receiving), cum eating, cum fucking, pussy drunk satoru, implied multiple rounds, fanart by @ / umbra3terna on twt / tumblr (pls go follow htem, they are so talented)

✧ w/c: 7,161

“It’s so fucking hot,”

“Then let’s fuck to cool off.”

What? 

You stared at the strongest sorcerer, his face flushed red, heat clinging to his cheeks, white locks blowing in the cool breeze of the fan, his shirt lifted up to cool him or maybe to tempt you, his melting popsicle dripping onto his burning skin — and your eyes flicked to the blue liquid slipping down his abs, then back to his face. 

The low buzz of the fan filled the silence between the two of you as you stared at him, “what?” The question slipping from your mind out your lips. 

Satoru Gojo had far too many outrageous things leave his mouth — he was insolent, arrogant, and even mildly violent (mostly towards Ijichi) — but you didn’t know if it was him or the heat — but you were considering it. 

What the fuck was wrong with you? 

(Him. It was him that was wrong with you.)

It was a heatwave in Tokyo. The one rare time you hadn’t been sent away on a mission, and you couldn’t even leave your apartment with the heat warning issued. Not to mention your central air breaks down, with a repairman nowhere in sight. 

It was just your luck. 

You rub at your eyes — and you weren’t sure if they were burning from your sweat or your lack of sleep last night. You’re blasting your fans around your apartment, stripped down to your shortest shorts and lightest tank top. You’re walking around your kitchen, using a takeout menu to fan yourself as you watch your order drive towards your place. There was no fucking way you were cooking in this weather. 

And you see a phone call come through — Gojo Satoru’s name flashing across the top of the screen. You sigh, contemplating ignoring the phone call, but you know he would only call a million times more, and you pick up. 

“Why did it take you so long to pick up my phone call?” and you shake your head, placing the call on speaker as you watch your takeout arrive at your place. 

“It literally rang twice,” Satoru’s patience had not changed since your time Jujutsu Tech — as you glance at your contact photo, a picture of him dressed in Shoko’s skirt from your school days, with Geto snickering in the background — though a lot of things had. 

“Two times too many,” you knew he was pouting. 

“Satoru, unless the next words out of your mouth is an offer is to fly me to a place where the weather is better, I’m gonna hang up on you,” you sigh, making your way to the door, opening the door to find Satoru standing there, looking far too stylish in a white t-shirt, his blue shorts hanging low on his waist, and sunglasses perched precariously on his head, your takeout in hand, “what are you doing here?” 

“Well I thought you wouldn’t  want to take a beach day with me unless I showed up to your place. Ta-da!” he lifts up a duffel bag, seemingly stuffed to the brim. 

“Satoru, there’s a weather advisory out. I’m pretty sure all the beaches are closed, and even if you’re immune to heatstroke, I’m not,” you step aside to pull him inside, the humidity sucking the little cool air you have in your apartment, “why did you think going to the beach in this heat was a good idea?” 

He shrugs, “An excuse to get out of the house, plus, my apartment’s cooling is out—“ 

“So you thought even if you couldn’t go to the beach, you could steal my A.C.?” you sigh, collapsing on the couch, “well too bad because mine’s busted too,” you glance over, but your gaze doesn’t find Satoru, seeing his paintbrush head stuck in your freezer, “you’re going to melt—“ he turns around to have a blue popsicle stuck in his mouth and you almost snort at the sight, “bring me one too.” 

“What should we do?” you murmur, sticking the popsicle in your mouth, as you laid back on the couch, sucking on the end of it, “watch a movie?” 

“It feels too hot to do anything but lay here,” Satoru sighed, the crinkle of his second popsicle white noise as you scroll through possible movie options on your phone, until you toss it away, metal overheating just as you were. 

“Well, we have to fucking do something other than just burn,” and you glance over, his white tee rolled up to expose his stomach as he ate his popsicle, and you raise an eyebrow, “what the hell are you doing?” 

“What’s it look like? Enjoying my popsicle,” he half mumbles as he continues to suck on the colored ice, “it’s better than it getting on my shirt,” You watch the popsicle drip onto his exposed abs, liquid pooling in the crevices of his toned muscles, you lick at your own popsicle, catching the drops off the melting ice with your tongue, wondering how much sweeter it would taste to lick it off his abs, “see something you like sweetheart?” 

His teasing words and wide grin pry you from your reverie with the subtlety of a crowbar, and your cheeks burn, as you roll your eyes, “You’re a dumbass,” you mutter, and he snickers at you, as you avert your gaze from him, and go back to eating your popsicle. 

You don’t miss the way his eyes linger on you as you slide the popsicle into your mouth, and you definitely don’t miss the way he eyes you as you suck at the fruity ice, before letting it slip from your lips, leaving only the tip of it pressed against your lips. 

“See something you like, Satoru?” and he has no reaction, shamelessly staring still, as he tilts his head. 

“I do,” he says without missing a beat, lifting his gaze to meet your own, “are you offering?” and you blink, before looking away — why was everything with Satoru a game of chicken? A bull’s rush to the line the two of you refused to cross, but did everything to pull the other over it. But neither of you had faltered, not in all these years. 

Not since the very last summer just like this. 

The sun had sunk past the horizon line, the summer night only predicated by the harmony of cicadas and the humidity that still stubbornly clung to the air, despite the sun being long gone. And that’s when Satoru had knocked on your door to tell you — tell you what had happened with Geto. 

He was gone. He had left. And he wasn’t coming back. 

And why was it that the signs were all there, laid out before you like directions to where he was going — and you didn’t see them, obscured by his empty reassurances and your own selfishness. 

You didn’t blame Suguru. Not after everything that had happened with Riko, Haibara, and everything else. But when you saw Satoru before you, despondent and broken — not a single inch of his usual flippant humor present, not a bit of his joy that he always had. But a part of you wanted to blame him — blame him for hurting Satoru, for hurting you, so prolifically. 

But you couldn’t blame him all the same. 

Satoru had spent the next few nights in your place, even sharing your bed at time, waking up with his long limbs tangled with your own, his face often buried in the crook of your neck, and you could see the evidence of dried tears on his face, despite his best efforts to cover his own tear tracks. 

“Do you think I could have stopped him?” he had asked you that night, his head laid in your lap as you flipped through the channels of the shitty TV you had brought from home and refused to replace, “do you think he would have listened?” 

“I think Suguru is even more stubborn as you are — because you were stubborn enough not to listen to your best friends,” your fingers cupped the bottom of his chin, “there wasn’t anything you could do — you can’t help someone who wasn’t willing to accept it,” 

“I could have made him,” and his skies contained in his eyes were infinite — just as he thought of himself — but he wasn’t. Because unlike the sky, he was human. 

“No, you couldn’t have,” you flick his forehead, and he pouts up at you, “and sitting here and wondering what ifs will do nothing for you — except drive you and your very excellent best friend crazy,” 

“Lucky for me she loves me even when I drive her crazy,” and you roll your eyes, a smile pulling on your lips, as he stares up at you, your fingers mindlessly tracing the length of his jaw, feeling the quake of his body as he shivered under your touch. 

“Very lucky,” and you could feel the pull between your bodies, the ever so slight way you leaned, willing for once to cross that line for him, for you — but he turned on his side, facing the TV instead of you. 

“What should we watch?” 

And you had promised yourself that night, you wouldn’t let your feelings get in the way of your friendship, you wouldn’t do that to him — because you knew he had already lost too much. 

But now—he was the one trying to cross the line. 

You stared at him, before scoffing, “Shut up,” but you were too afraid to let him. Your eyes drift back to the TV, leaning back against the couch — it was for the best this way, “think the heat’s getting to you more than you admit,” 

“Maybe,” he hums, as you finish your popsicle and sigh, leaning back on the couch again, with a groan. 

“It’s so fucking hot,” you sighed, leaning back on the couch, head hanging over the armrest. 

And you could feel his gaze on you, undeterred from before, “Then let’s fuck to cool off.” 

You almost think you heard him wrong, as you slowly lift your head to look at him. You must have heard him wrong. Satoru was known to make bad jokes or say ridiculous things — but not like this. And you find a smirk across his lips, but the heat in his gaze had not a hint of humor in it — burning hotter than the sun taunting all of Tokyo. 

“What?” You don’t know what you want him to say — say that it was a joke, say that you heard him wrong, or just say it again. But your eyes can’t pull away from his, the blue of his eyes pulling you close instead of pushing you away unlike his technique by the same name. 

“You heard me, sweetheart,” he tilts his head, biting into his popsicle, letting the tip slip into his mouth, “we could fuck the heat away,” the idea slips so casually from his lips, as if he was recommending a movie or a book, and not fucking you here and now. 

“Satoru—“ your voice is chiding, you’re shaking your head, but the couch creaks as he leans forward, the remnants of his popsicle slipping down his abs and through his happy trail and seeping into his shorts, “don’t fuck around—“ 

“Do you think I’d say that to you of all people just to fuck around?” he raises his eyebrows, and your words flee your mind just as you wish to, but you sit, wondering if this is a literal fever dream from the heat, “you don’t have to think about it so much,” 

“Don’t I?” you scoff, shaking your head, as you get to your feet, wiping the sweat from your forehead, “Satoru, why—“ 

And he’s getting to his feet, wiping the melted popsicle on his stomach with his white shirt, no longer caring as much as he said he did. And you can feel the heat radiate from his body, all consuming just as this heatwave was — clinging to you even as you tried to keep cool, sweat dripping off your flesh like the pleas that left your lips. 

“I’ve thought about this for too long, too many times,” he murmurs, fingers brushing against your cheek, featherlight as if you’d break apart under his touch, “we’re sitting in your place — it’s just you and me. You’re asking why, and I’m asking why not?”’

“I don’t want to sleep with you just like that, I can’t. I want it—“ you cut off, but he doesn’t let you turn your head, hand cupping your cheek now. 

“You want what, sweetheart?” Your mouth was impossibly dry, the words unable to force their way from your throat, “tell me, please,” and the pleading in his voice breaks you. 

“I want it to mean something,” and his gaze softens, as your eyes meet his again, a ghost of a chuckle on his lips, “it’s not funny—“ and he’s daring even closer, a hand sliding down your side. 

“It’s funny because you could think I would ever want anything that’s to do with you to be only meaningless,” he murmurs, words fanning your skin, and god it was so fucking hot. Between the temperature, his closeness, and his words, you were sure you’d pass out, “do you know how many times I wanted to do this? So many times during the days and nights we’d spent together, I wanted to just reach over and pull you into a kiss,” 

“Then why didn’t you?” your brow furrows, “and why now?” 

“Because I’m tired of waiting for a sign, for something in my head to tell me it’s safe, that you won’t disappear,” his thumb rubs back and forth, “just like every good thing in my life,” 

“I’m pretty sure you’re stuck with me at this point,” and his lips curl, a breath away, “Toru—“ 

“Can I kiss you?” and you almost laugh at the absurdity of the situation, but you can’t, the heat so thick it feels as if every molecule of your body was on fire, and the only thing that could quench the flames was his lips. So you just nod wordlessly. 

His lips find yours. It was chaste, a brush of his lips against yours, the lingering sweetness of the popsicle dancing on your tongue. It’s too soon that he’s pulling away, your lips mourning the absence of his touch already. 

“Feeling cooler?” his words warm your lips, but even so you’re pulling him back into another kiss, lips sliding against his firmly, his fingers tangling in his hair, wanting nothing more than to melt into his grasp.

And you part your lips from his for a moment,” Not at all,” and your eyes flicker to your refrigerator, “but maybe we can cool down.” 

“Fuck,” Satoru shivered, and he wasn’t sure if it was your lips against his pulse, or from the drag of the quickly melting popsicle against his burning skin. But neither of those compared to the soft groan ripped from his lips as your tongue dragged up his side, following the sticky, sweet trail of melted ice, mixing with his sweat, “well, am I sweeter than ice cream?” 

He’s too sweet. 

He’s certainly sweet like this, laid out on your bed for you, his shirt long discarded, his shorts about to join them. Soft pants made his chest rise and fall, slowing and quickening with your touch — his pulse thrumming under your touch. 

But he’s also sweet with the way he looks up at you, soft eyes to match his smile, as if he was made to look at you like this. And a part of you wanted to believe he was — even if most of you couldn’t quite believe it. 

Your lips curl, humming as you press a wet kiss to his sticky skin, “i don’t know, I need more time to make my final decision,” you lick up the length of the rapidly melting sweet, droplets of sweet sugar water dissolving on your tongue, but you knew it really was nothing compared to the taste of his lips. 

But you weren’t going to tell him that. 

You take a bite of the popsicle, before leaning down to kiss him, letting the ice melt between your tongues, as his fingers tangled in your locks, and soon enough he’s rolling you onto your back, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs. 

And he leans forward, eating the last bit of the popsicle from the stick, “Well it’s my turn to taste now,” 

“You can’t even wait your turn for this, huh—“ the last word is a squeal as his fingers slide into the waistband of your shorts, snapping it against your heated skin, flames licking everywhere he touches. 

The melted popsicle runs down his muscles, rivulets running down the contours of his body, before dripping onto your burning skin, nipples pulling taut from the sticky sugar. He leans down to tease one nipple, sucking the melted liquid off, before doing the same to the other. 

“I’ve waited long enough, sweetheart,” and he’s dragging your shorts off, thighs crying out in relief as the cool air of the fan did it’s job to ebb away the heat ever so slightly, drying the layer of sweat, “I don’t want to wait another minute,” 

“So impatient,” you chide teasingly, voice lilting and yet he looks at you with a half lidded gaze, sending a wave of heat right to your core. And the way your thighs press together doesn’t go unnoticed, fingers splayed against the plushness of your thighs, forcing them gently apart. Your cheeks burned, and this time not from the weather, “Toru—“ 

His cerulean eyes find the wet patch of your panties, a smirk pulling at the corners of his pretty lips, “Don’t think this is sweat, baby,” he teases, fingers skimming over the damp spot, “or should I make sure?” 

“Satoru—“ and your chiding is cut off by the sinful press of his fingers to your clothed cunt, his dark eyes lidded as they watch your slick soak through the ruined panties already. And you can’t help the way your hips buck against his hand, “you motherfucker—“

“Funny coming from the one humping my hand,” he grins, and his thumb grinds down against your clit, his other slipping under your ass to knead the soft flesh, “maybe it is sweat and I should just leave you to cool off,” his fingers slipping away, delicious friction that your cunt was already spread open, wet, and willing for— 

A whine leaves your throat, an all too pretty noise, “Toru, please, I—“ and his fingers are hooking in the fabric of your panties before ripping them off, quite literally, the sound of tearing fabric making you gape at him, “what the fuck—“ 

“It’s too hot for these anyway,” Satoru pockets the panties in his shorts, “look at this, you’re burning up,” he stares at your leaking pussy shamelessly — because shame was a word that Satoru Gojo did not know, “and I think I know just what to do to cool you down,” his head leans down, blowing softly at your inner thighs, over the sweat mixed your pre that coated your skin, your folds twitching, just as the corners his lips did, “so needy,” 

“You’re the fucking worst,” your words a mutter unfolding into a gasp as he drags a single finger up your leaking folds, gathering your slick on the tip of his index, and then he’s tracing a slow circle around your clit, “Toru,” your words are half pleading, half pouting. It’s so hot, his touch only serving to make you sweat — literally and metaphorically. You were sure your sheets would be ruined after this — and not just from your sweat. 

“Lemme savor this, you kept me waiting so long, Princess,” his reverent words pressed against your inner thigh, teasing butterfly kisses that make you squirm, a flick of his sharp tongue that tastes the sweat against your skin, “how’re you this sweet? S’perfect,” his words are seemingly more for him than you, pussy drunk without even taking a single sip. 

But not for long. 

His nose bumps against your clit, tongue flicking against the seam of your messy cunt, eager fingers pulling the sticky, sweaty skin apart, and your cheeks burn with how exposed you feel—and how self conscious you were. 

“M-maybe this isn’t a good idea. I’m really sweaty—“ and the flat of his tongue drags up your sopping pussy, and fuck, good wasn’t enough to describe it. 

“Then I better clean my nasty girl up, right?” he cools your sticky skin with another soft puff of air blown between lips glossy with your precum, making you whimper as he pulls away, “one sec, sweetheart, think I need reinforcements,” 

The creak of the bed as he scurried off for a moment making you lift your head, an embarrassingly strong ache between your legs making you whine, legs closing, as you bit your lip, “Toru, what the fuck—“ 

And he’s back, but not empty handed — a glass filled to the brim with ice, a grin on his lips, “ready to cool off, Princess?” 

~~~ 

“A-ah, too cold,” you whine, and Satoru can’t help but disagree it’s far too hot — and it wasn’t the weather. It was you. 

You were always hot. You always had been — otherwise how else did you melt his icy demeanor from the moment you met? Too big of a chip on his shoulder from all those years spent at the lonely top of his clan, and you had no problem keeping company up there while kicking off his pedestal. 

Fuck, you’re so pretty like this. Gasps pulled from spit soaked lips, chest rising up and down, and your legs spread open just for him. You shivered as he dragged a half melted ice cube along your collarbone, water trailing behind that he was more than dragging his tongue along, the sweetness of your skin mixed with the tang of your sticky sweat. 

How had he resisted for so long? 

It had been years and years of pining. Of late night spent watching movies, of days spent fighting alongside each other, and even more days spent trying to get home to the other. And all that time, he still had stayed at the same distance. 

Because it was safer. It was easier. But he wasn’t know what it was — the heat, patience wearing thin, the fucking sight of your smile even in this fucked world — but he couldn’t stand it anymore. 

Not without you by his side. 

“Think the ice would beg to differ, sweetheart,” he hums, as he presses a kiss over the pooling ice as it melts right above the swell of your breast, “I’d say it’s much too hot,” your nipples grow hard under his treatment, a hiss leaving your lips, as he sucks the ice water from one nipple while rolling the other between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Toru, fuck, please—“ your words cut off with another gasp as he buries his face in the swell of your breasts, licking up the valley, before his lips find your pert nipples, lips closing around, sucking and licking, before nibbling at the skin. 

“You always this needy, pretty? Or is it just for me?” his words are said teasingly, but his eyes are just as desperate as yours, fingers dragging down your sides now, “better be just for me,” he mutters more to himself than you, as you gasp, ice cold fingers prying your thighs apart, “heh, what a mess you’ve made,” his fingers skim your dripping cunt, and he lifts his fingers to spread them in front of your face, your pre strung like spider webs between them, “don’t think sweat’s does this, does it?” 

And he turns his head, pressing kisses to your thighs, a glorified slip and slide from your sweat and pre alike, but how was it that you still tasted so sweet? A whimper escapes your bitten lips, his breath warming your pussy, a puff of air blowing over your twitching entrance, eyes sliding to the glass of melting ice. 

“You put a fucking ice cube in me and I’ll—“ he snorts, but grabs an ice cube all the same. 

“Only I belong inside you, baby, nothing else,” and he presses the ice cube to his lips, your eyes hypnotized as you watch him drag it back and forth, until he lets it slip into his lips, melting as he leans down, “now let me cool you off,” he presses his lips to your clit, a short kiss that has him melting all the same. 

You jerk. Cold. His lips tingled as his lips enveloped your clit, and his tongue was no better. Fucking freezing, a yelp that he rips from your body, as you can’t help but squirm. But he doesn’t let you get away that easily. Because nothing about the two of you was ever easy. 

His fingers press into your hips, arms pinning your body to the mussed sheets of your bed, as his tongue circles your clit, cold ebbing away with each stroke, until he’s lost in the warmth of your pussy. 

And Satoru only could wish he set up a camera — so he can watch you again and again with your gaze hazy with lust, tears welling like the condensation on the glass on making your eyes just as glassy, but you stared at him all the same. 

So he might as well give you a show.

“Fuck, could live in this tight cunt, you’re gonna be the only sweet thing I drink all summer,” the only summer drink he will settle for — the only thing sweeter than sugar itself — and he only one he wants. His tongue parts your folds, sinking deeper past your entrance, until he’s practically tongue fucking you, face buried in your cunt.

“T-Toru, ngh, too much,” and it was all too much for him — your soft moans, the lewd squelch of your pussy, the tremble of your thighs as he ate you out, and his tongue pulls back a moment, choosing to focus on your clit, as he sinks a cold finger inside, “fuck!” 

“Now you’re getting it, Princess,” he coos, and your scowl only lasts a second as his thick finger fucks you open, “gotta make sure I fit don’t I?” 

“You’re so fucking full of it—how about less talk and more—“ and he presses his erection against your leg, letting you feel how hard you’ve gotten him, and how fucking much he could cum in his boxers here and now. And you whimper, pussy clenching at the sight of him, “Toru, how will you—how—“ 

He’s so fucking big. 

“Don’t worry about that, sweetheart,” and he’s slipping in a second finger, as his tongue laps at your clit, “I’ll make myself fit,” and he would be the only one who would fit, the only one that could fuck your cunt, have his fingers curling deep, the only one making your head loll back against the pillow, “she’ll let me in, fuck you right, make sure I can carve out a nice place for myself — when I fuck every inch of her,” 

And his fingers piston into you, surely pruning with how your pre slips down his wrists and the wet sounds of your sloppy cunt grow louder, almost louder than the moans you make. 

Almost. 

“Said I’m the fucking worst, but it sounds like I’m the best, huh?” and you’re too far lost in the pleasure, nodding your head, as he’s fucked all the logic from your mind — leaving only want behind. And it seems like you both were on the same page now. 

It was nasty, the way his tongue took turns lapping at your walls, before teasing them open with his fingers. The way his sweat dripped down his face and mixed with your pre as he glued himself to your pretty pussy — and he was sure he could die of heatstroke with how fucking warm your pussy was. 

And he would die happy. 

But he knew you were close — with the way your hips were nearly grinding against his face and fingers, spit mixing with pre as he pulled away a moment, continuing to hit every spot that drove you to the edge closer and closer, “G’nna cum already, baby?” His taunting lilt makes you scowl, even with how far gone you were,  “s’cute, is it that easy?” 

“T-toru, I swear—“ and his lips latch to your clit, sucking hard, right as his fingers find that spot—and he swears your soul leaves your body, your body tenses under his touch, lovely lips falling open with his name on it as you cum. 

Well, more like squirt, your release making even more of a mess of yourself, the sheets, and him. It splatters across his face and hands, and he’s groaning, vibrating against your cunt, as he fucks you through your orgasm, sucking and slurping every drop you gave him. And it’s a feat as you absolutely drench his mouth, slick, sweat, and spit, dripping down his jaw. 

And he’s a fucking vision, once you get it back, far gone in the pleasure, as he continued to lap at you, until he finally pulls his fingers from you, and your eyes flutter open, chest rising and falling as you watch him lick each one of his digits clean, sliding him into his mouth, “what? Y’know i love my sweets,” his tongue then darts out to clean your slick from his face, before wiping the rest off. 

You’re reaching for him, eager fingers finding his shoulder, as you tug him on top of you, before flipping him with ease, so his back hits the mattress. He stares up at you — and god, did he always look at you like this? And how did you never see it — and how would you ever stop? 

“Princess—” but you don’t let him protest, lips meeting his, a soft groan as you taste yourself on his lips, palms sliding down his sticky chest, and your lips journey downwards, ghosting down his body. Your lips linger over his raised nipples, tonguing and teasing them, a hint of sweetness that lingers from his popsicle undoubtedly. 

“And you said I was sweet, you’re the one covered in melted popsicle,” you mumble, and he smirks, but his reply melts into a groan as the tip of your tongue traces the ridges of his abs, “can’t take it, Toru?” 

“F-fuck, can you blame me, sweetheart? Been thinking about this for too long. Wanted nothing more, nothing more than you,”  and your lips graze down his happy trail, a sharp inhale as he shudders as your fingers dip into the elastic of his boxers, tugging it down.

He’s perfect — just like every part of him, almost annoyingly so, if you weren’t too busy drooling over it. Swollen tip flushed a deep red, while the rest was a perfect blush pink that you wanted to paint your cheeks with, glossy with precum and sweat, begging to be touched. 

And you were more than happy to oblige. 

He nearly cums then and there when his cock grazes your cheek, smearing his pearly precum across your face. You turn your head, letting his tip drag over your lips, painting your lips with his pre. 

“Shit—“ he sucks air between his teeth, fingers digging into the sheets of the mattress, “not gonna last long at this rate—“ 

“I’ve barely started, surprised the honored one hasn’t cummed in his boxers yet,” he pouts, before he’s hissing as your lips press teasing kisses to your inner thighs, “can’t handle the heat?” And the tip of your tongue licks at the pubes above his cock, the melted sugar water clinging to the skin there, leaning down to kiss the tip of his cock— “then maybe you shouldn’t have started this—-“ 

And his fingers sink into your flesh, and now you’re on your back, sweat making you nearly stick to the sheets but you could care less with the sight above you. His cheeks flushed as he looks at down at you, but his lips curled in the same grin he always had, “oh, I’m going to be the one end it,” 

“End it? Don’t tell me this is the last I’m seeing of you,” vulnerability creeps back in a moment, and his fingers traces the curve of your cheek and down to your lips — “didn’t take you the type to hit it and quit it,” 

And he snorts, “I didn’t take you as the type to know what that means,” but his thumb rubs back and forth across your bottom lip, “but do you think after all this time I could ever quit you?” 

His fingers grasp at the base of his weeping cock, groaning as he teases your entrance with his tip, marking you with his precum, your gasp making his dick twitch, as if it’s begging to be inside you. “All of this is for you,” he grunts, guiding your hand to his chest, feeling his heart thus underneath your palm, “it’s always been for you,” 

“I’m starting to think you didn’t wanna just fuck the heat away,” and he laughs, his tip kissing your entrance, just as he brushed his lips against yours. 

“Well, who said that was the only reason?” And he’s sinking inside you, inch by inch. And there far too many fucking inches. He groans at the sight of your folds, swallowing his cock whole, walls stretching around his length, “look how good you take me — this perfect pussy was made for me, isn’t that right?” and you’re nodding wordlessly, lips parted in a silent moan, as your walls pulled him deeper and deeper, “not g’nna be able to control myself, shit, feels too good, princess,” 

“Feels too good to be like this,” you’re panting as the words leave your lips, your eyes glassy with lust — Satoru swears you could look at him, and it would be enough for him to fuck you all over again, “too big, Toru — you gonna fuck me stupid,” and you can feel his dick grow, pushing against your walls as he bottoms out, and you whine in return, “hngh, I wasn’t being serious—” 

“So tight,” An almost guttural hiss pulled from the back of his throat, and he’s smug as he looks down at you, mouth fallen open, “I’m always serious about fucking you stupid, sweetheart,” as he lifts your legs, pressing them to your chest, your ankles dangling next to his head, as he kisses the soft skin there, a wicked grin, despite the sweat trickling down his face, “it’s the one time I can be smarter than you,” 

He’s torturing you. Torturing you as he grinds his hips roughly against you, the lewd noises of your sloppy cunt and the sticky perspiration between your bodies deafening, yet still won’t give you what you want. More than that, the heat between your bodies was too much — flames engulfed every muscle with every brush of his body against yours, every twitch of his dick inside you, and veins full of fire rather than blood. And you were sure you’d spontaneously combust in this heat, and he’d still fuck you all the same — letting himself be swallowed up by the fire just as well. 

Your moan was almost unrecognizable to you, the pleading in your voice bone deep, just as the heat was, “Please, Toru, move,” and he’s grunting, and you know he wants you — has wanted you all these years, and he only smiles at your words, a short laugh on his lips. 

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” and his fingers dig into your hips as he begins to fuck you, hard and fast. His balls slap against your skin, the noise ringing in your ears, and your cunt resists every time he pulls out — as if you never want him to go. And he never will. He can’t stand the thought of anyone else seeing you like this — see the way your lips part in moans; the way your eyes glaze over in pleasure; the way sweat drips down your face, running down into the divot between your tits; the way your tight cunt bulges at the sides as you take his dick so well — no, this is a sight just for him, “s’pretty, and all for me,” 

You’re already s’close after all the teasing all night, the sounds of his grunts and groans doing nothing to help as his tip rams against your cervix, and you’re sure his dick is fucking places you only dreamed of reaching, but still you can’t help but want more—so much so that the word slips from your mouth. 

He laughs, fingers pushing on the slight bulge in your stomach making you gasp, the sweat of his palm mixing with your own that gathered on your stomach, “Even when you’re getting your guts fucked, you want more, sweetheart?” and his fingers rub meanly at your clit, pinching and pulling at the sensitive spot as his tip hits that spot that has your vision blurring again and again, “I’ll give you anything you want, because you’re mine,” 

And you’re surprised the bed frame doesn’t break as he begins to slam into you, but it does creak, begging for a break, just as you had begged for this dick. Your eyes water as he rams into you, rutting like a dog in heat, and maybe he was — maybe you both were. 

“Toru, Toru, I’m close, s’close, I can’t—“ and you’re so cute, like this, whining and begging for him, for the thing only he can give you — and he’s twitching inside you, and he knows he’s not far behind. 

“Cum for me,” he nearly orders, and his words are the thing that makes the ribbon of heat in your cunt snap. Your toes curl, as you cum hard around his cock, walls squeezing and shuddering around him as he only pistons into you harder and deeper, intent on making you feel pleasure in every inch of your body, and he’s shifting your legs, hands helping you wrap them around his waist, as he ruts into you, chasing his own high. 

You’re boneless and long gone, as your chest bumps against his as he fucks you, but you still manage to find words to push him over the edge, goad him as you always did, because you know right where to touch (especially now). 

“G’nna cum inside me, Toru? Fill me up with your release?” and he swore he lost the ability to breathe, heat and your words stealing the breath from his lungs, as he ruts into you, mix of sweat and sex making his head spin, but not as much as your sweet cunt does. 

He’s close, he knows he is, especially when he looks to see the ring of cum and sweat around the base of his cock, and when your fingers thread through his white locks, thumb rubbing against his undercut, to pull him back into a bruising kiss, right as his cock hits your deepest part again—

“Cum for me, Toru,” and he does, uncoiling at your command, spurting thick ropes of cum inside your walls, painting your insides, as he fucks it deeper into you with every roll of his hips. Debauched groans leaving his lips as he murmurs how perfect you are, because you are — even more than he could have ever imagined. His thrusts slow, the sticky sweat and cum drenching both of you and the sheets alike. He pulls himself gently from inside, groaning at the loss of your warmth, but also wondering if your cunt doubled as an oven — the cool air of the fan sliding over his bare skin a relief. 

He eases onto your side, pressing sweet kisses all over your face, before you bury it in the crook of his neck for a moment, before pulling away, “You’re all sticky,” you wrinkle your nose, with a whine, and he laughs, a shit eating grin on his lips — more euphoric than sarcastic. 

“Well, who’s fault is that?” and you’re pouting, brow furrowed. 

“The same guy’s bright idea it was to fuck in the middle of a fucking heatwave,” and he props himself up, the sheets nearly glued to him as he took in the damage, mussed and ruined with the mess of cum, sweat, and spit all over, “you’re buying me new sheets,” and he chuckles, leaning over to peck your lips. 

“I’ll buy you a new bed if you ever let me do that again,” and you shake your head, eyes fluttering open and then closed, as he nosed as the column of your neck, completely fascinated with the way your skin was glowing still after all of that, “you just gonna doze off after all of that? Such a nasty girl, we gotta clean up after all that, don’t we?” 

“Don’t wanna get up,” and he chuckles, pressing a sweet kiss to the top of your head, but the touch seems to make you whine, “fuck, but its so hot,” 

“And yet I didn’t hear you complaining when I was fucking you,” he tilts your chin up, glazed over eyes fluttering open to meet his, and how was it that your gaze alone was enough to want him to pin you down and fuck you all over again? “Told ya it was a good idea to fuck the heat away,” 

“Except when it ends up like this,” and he sighs, the creak of the mattress underneath, as he gets to his feet, “what are you—ah!” he’s lifted you into his arms, sweat soaked bodies sticking together nearly as he carries you through the living room, making a small pit stop to grab two ice cold water bottles, sounds of the TV still floating through the apartment, towards your shower. 

“Who said this heatwave was over yet?” 

A weather report was playing, a snippet Satoru caught before he shut the door. Reports say the heatwave is going to continue for the rest of the week. Residents are advised to stay inside until things finally cool down!  

“You hear that, sweetheart?” as he sets you down, turning on the water of the shower, letting the cold water soak you both, as he loomed over you, pinning you against the shower wall, “guess it’s just you and me for a week,” and he opens the water bottle, taking a sip before pressing his lips to yours, forcing you swallow the water, tongue seeking after it. 

His fingers rest below your chin, as his lips ghost over the curve of your jaw and the slope of your neck, before his teeth graze the hollow of your throat, as his fingers sneak down to tease at your aching cunt, sinking in to stuff his cum dripping down your thighs back inside, “lucky I know just how to keep you cool, right?” 

✧ a/n: its been super hot here where i live and i'm dying so i want gojo to come fuck the heat away.

✧ taglist: @mysticaltigersorceress, @kentocalls, @biblioth-que, @dreamtardisspace, @augustwinesworld, @totallytatum, @hanxyy, @sxnkuna, @spindyl, @rosiesroseas, @kxouri, @elisaj313-blog, @theelegantpotato, @peppertoastuniverse, @alwaysfreakingout, @being-me-is-not-a-sin, @pompompurin-rambles, @catsgomurp, @admirxation, @ninikrumbs, @equanimoushuman, @mysticaltigersorceress, @eightantseatingapplesss, @notgoodforlife, @satowooo, @gojo-gets-me-wetter, @ivypinsss, @fayyyrieee, @hcn-eyes, @designerpvssy, @mua-for-now, @sukunabish, @fushitoru, @spider-fan72, @suguwife, @forest-fruits-jam, @pinkyvomit, @ranatherealestsigma, @gojosbrat, @megumibrainrot, @pxppygirl

[thinkinonsense]

-cravings.

cw: feral!logan, breeding kink, pervy!logan, marking, TA/ co-workers relationship, belly bulge, oral (fem receiving), gross!logan, squirting, male masturbation, spitting, slight praise kink, slight hair tugging, pet names, slightly grinding on abs? pantie play?

summary: logan's in a rut and only his sweet girl can help him.

a/n: so i pictured dofp!logan but x trilogy!logan also works! hope you enjoy <3 also also not proof read so sorry for any errors

"scott, have you seen logan?" your delicate voice fills the study as you pass by, looking for your mentor.

logan has been missing all day, which isn't the most unusual thing but it is odd that he said he would train with you today and yet, he's nowhere to be found.

"charles said he wasn't feeling well." scott replied, barely gazing up at you. "he's probably still in bed."

you nod, turning around to head upstairs and check on logan like any good friend would.

the floorboards creek under your light foot steps down the hall. charles, hank, and storm took the kids to a lab overnight to work on their final projects. the rest of the adult were either training or lesson planning. the wooden door glowed with golden light illuminating the rim, so warm and welcoming.

one knock turned into three and four. all of them unanswered, leaving you slightly alarmed. this wasn't like logan to ignore you.

❀༉‧₊˚

meanwhile, beyond the wooden door, logan sat on his bed trying to get a grip on this feeling. it's happened before, the familiar warmth that spreads all over. a primal craving attempting to claw its way out of him.

normally, he can hide out until the rut is over but now it is different. now logan has his eyes on someone. not just someone though.

it's the girl he's been warned not to fall for. charles, jean, hank and scott have all told logan that he's not to make a move on you. the girl who's too pure for a big bad wolf like him. for once, he listened and steered clear of you, no matter how pretty you were.

until you signed up to be his teachers assistant.

now with the close proximity, logan is tortured by your scent. the sweet cherry he's become familiar with haunts his deepest thoughts. he could perfectly trace every outline on your body without even trying. honestly, he found it quite sickening how you've carved your spot in his mind.

next to him on the mattress are a pair of your panties from yesterday. he remembered seeing the slight flash of light blue from under your skirt when you dropped your pen in the hallway. there's a damp patch on them, calling his name in mocking tones.

"logan..?" your meek voice was barely audible behind the door. "can i please come in?"

a low growl hums in his chest at the sound of your voice. he wants nothing more than to let you inside and ravish you in the way he desires; but he doesn't want to scare you off.

"not now, sweetheart." he grunts almost as if he's in pain.

"a-are you okay?"

logan couldn't see you but he could picture your concerned face. scrunched eyebrows and wide bambi eyes, lips in a pout. god, he could just eat you up.

" 'm fine." his voice sounds rough, like a bark. he would never yell at you but he needed you to walk away because the feeling of his cock being suffocated in his jeans was killing him.

"alright." you whine. "see ya later then, lo."

soon enough he heard your footsteps down the hall, logan quickly strips himself of his black shirt, dark blue jeans and his boxers. without hesitation he reaches over to grab that panties he had taken from your hamper.

"fuck, smells so sweet." he groans, nose pressed against the soft soaked cotton as he tugs his throbbing cock. spreading the pearly beads of pre-cum.

with his senses clouded and a fire ignited in him, he kitten licks the patch, letting your slick dance on his tongue. picturing your legs wrapped around his head, how your tight hole would take his tongue or his fingers and the little noises that would escape you.

"that's my sweet pussy. all mine." logan mumbles possessively under his breath before spitting into the material and bringing it to his cock, using it to jerk off.

as his orgasm approaches, the fire intensifies; sweat dripping down his temples the faster his hand moves. abs also dripping in sweat as his chest rapidly moves up and down. mind swarmed with all the positions logan wants to put you in.

"s-shit." logan curses, clenching his teeth as his vision blurs and euphoria washes over him. ropes of cum spill all over his abs and happy trail, creating a sticky messy.

left alone and panting, covered in his release, logan's still unsatisfied. he knew there was only one thing that could fix this.

❀༉‧₊˚

it's near midnight when you finally hear logan leave his room. heavy boots heading towards the stairs, right by your room.

"where are you going, lo?" you ask, peaking out of your bedroom to catch him. he stops but doesn't acknowledge you. "gonna leave me here all alone?"

logan could've sworn that you would be asleep at this hour and he could leave to find some woman at the bar to help with his... situation.

"scott's around here somewhere." he dryly replies, trying to avoid your gaze.

"he left a few hours ago." you mumble, nervously messing with the bottom of your nightgown.

something was off about logan; you just couldn't figure out what it was. he wouldn't even look at you. had you done something wrong? was he upset with you? why was he avoiding you?

"i-is everything alright?" you ask, worried for the answer.

logan take a minute to respond, scratching the scruff on his face while he thinks. just because he looks strong doesn't mean he is internally. logan found his weakness in you. a woman he's known for a little over a year and yet you could bring him to his knees if you so pleased.

suddenly, logan turns and looks at you. he sucks in his breath sharply when he saw you dressed in a cute tiny white nightgown. logan was positive that you were the closest he will ever get to meeting an angel.

the material ends high up on your thighs and he swears that in this light he can see the outline of your nipples, watching how they pebble from the cool air in the hallway.

"it's just cravings." he finally answers, tearing his eyes off of your pretty shape.

the moment logan makes eye contact with you, you notice how the color changed from a light hazel to bordering black. he looked hungry. you've heard of this before, a feral state that mutants like him enter every six months or so and if you knew better, you would run.

"anything i can help you with?" you ask, batting your long lashes up at him.

"it's real dirty work, princess." logan warns, restraining himself from jumping at the opportunity.

"i don't mind." you tell him. in that moment, a familiar aroma hits him. "i wanna help you, logan."

normally, logan wouldn't let things get this far. sure, the two of you have made sly flirty comments in the past but it's never gone past just words.

he watches you walk back into your room, keeping the door open for him.

❀༉‧₊˚

your bedroom was damn near exactly how logan pictured it. soft earth toned colors, pretty sheets, messy desk with all the paperwork you two do together. most importantly, it smelled like you. not your perfume or whatever candle you lit earlier. this was different.

"logan..." your voice pulls him back to reality. "tell me what you want me to do."

so considerate. logan thinks to himself as he watches you sit with your knees against the mattress and look up at him like a dog looking at its owner, waiting for an order.

without a warning, logan crashes his lips against yours. it hot and messy how he almost swallows you whole. both of you have waited forever for this moment.

logan lays you flat on the mattress, not breaking the kiss. your teeth bite down on his bottom lip at the small thud. you go to whisper an apology but it's covered by logan's loud groaning.

he take this opportunity to grind against you, only covered in a pair of matching white panties. if he was in a clearer head space, he would've thought this was planned.

"u-uh, please." you whimper against his lips, lifting your hips a little to meet his.

it's quite cute how pathetic you look right now. struggling for more. logan latches his lips to your neck, leaving dark maroon bites behind as he moves further south.

at the waistband of your panties, logan nips at the skin on your hipbone, leaving behind a pretty mark to match the others. he craved to be closer to you. pressing his nose into the wet patch and inhaling sharply, grunting at your essence.

a loud squeal falls from your lips as you lazily try to push him away. too embarrassed by the lewd action. nonetheless, logan refuses to move until he's had enough. licking over the cotton and making out with your covered cunt.

"l-logan!" you gasp as he flips you over on your belly with your ass in the air.

the sound of the material ripping fills the room. this was better than logan could've imagined. the sight of your throbbing cunt as it cries for his attention, and only his.

"prettiest fuckin' pussy i've ever seen." he marvels under his breath. "gonna let me use it how i please, princess?"

"mhm." you nod, trying to look back at him. "it's yours, lo."

your words send him on a spiral, he sinks you down on his tongue so he can fuck you at his pace. exploring your walls and reveling in your taste. no dessert in the world could compare to you.

logan grinds against your mattress, desperately seeking relief. not that he's complaining. he's more than happy with his position; and so are you.

there will be bruises on your hips tomorrow, without a doubt because of how tightly logan's gripping your hips. keeping you right where he wants you to be.

"n-need more, please." you moan, fists balling up the sheets.

"what a greedy fuckin' baby." logan says, pulling off of a second to replace his tongue with two thick fingers, stretching you out for him.

pretty little 'uh, uh, uh's' spill from your lips every time you bounce back on logan's fingers. he's hypnotized by the way you manage to coat his finger with your slick. dripping down his palm and onto your sheets.

"look 'atcha, sweetheart." he mutters, doubtful that you can hear him over the obscene sounds coming from your pussy. "struggling to take my fingers. gotta stretch ya' for my cock. think you can take it?"

"mhm!" you answer, feeling a trail of kisses on the back of your thighs as logan speeds up his thrusts, locating your sweet spot with ease.

there's a warmth of pleasure that washes over you. it's different than anything else you've experienced. before you could even figure it out, you to gush all over logan's hand and the sheets.

"she's squeezing me so damn tight." he growls, watching as your pussy spasms from overstimulation, practically knocking the wind out of you. logan has to fight off cumming in his jeans as he licks up your release.

once logan allows you to catch your breath, you turn and say, "i've never um, never done that before."

"fuck." logan curses, smacking his palm down on your ass. "it won't be the last time tonight."

the sound of logan undoing his belt echos in the room. lining the head up to your entrance and slowly sinking into you. your eyes roll back into your head at the stretch. similar to a cat, you arch your back and purr at the feeling.

"f-feel so full." you moan as he picks up his pace.

"that's it, princess." he grunts, moving his hand down your back and wrapping it into your hair. "tell me how good it feels."

and you don't waste a single second to do so.

"you're s-so big, can feel you e-everywhere." you reply in between heavy breaths.

the hand wrapped in your hair tugs you forward so your back is against his chest. with his lips pressed against your ear, he mutters, "everywhere, huh?"

you nod, digging your nails into his thighs with each thrust. his other hand travels from your breast to your lower torso underneath the nightgown. your eyes shoot open as soon as he lightly pushes down.

"can you feel me right here?" he asks, slowing down his strokes for you to focus.

when you don't respond right away, the hand in your hair moves to your jaw, gripping it and angling your gaze down to the large bulge in your belly. you always knew logan was larger than the average man but you didn't even think this was possible.

"y-yes!" you whimper loudly, needing him to go faster.

logan's not religious by any means but in that moment, he wishes he could personally thank god for everyone being gone tonight. he can't imagine having to muffle your little moans right now while he starts pounding back into you.

"gimme kiss, please?" you whisper in between the lewd wet smacks of his heavy balls against your ass.

how could logan turn down his sweet girl? even while being ruined, you still managed to use your manners.

the two of you sloppily make out, exploring each other. he swallows all the whimpers you let out against his lips. except the one from when logan pulls back.

"what are you–?"

"open your mouth and stick out your tongue for me." logan demanded, staring down at you like a feral animal.

you obey, opening up for him like he asks. logan spits on top your tongue, feeling your tight cunt flutter around him. clenching at the taste of him.

"swallow." he says, watching you do so. "what a good girl."

"i'm so f-fucking close, lo." your head falls back against his shoulder as your vision turns white, stars behind your eye lids.

"me too." logan warns. " 'ya gonna let me fill you up, sweetheart? bet you wanna be full of me, to carry my seed? isn't that right?"

he knows you're too far gone, babbling incoherent sentences and soft pleas. the tiny, "mhm" and head nod give him the okay to cum inside you.

"s-shit!" he curses. "you're so tight, practically suffocating me, baby."

his orgasm triggers another for you, milking him until both of you are struggling for air. the room felt like the inside of a sauna and reeks of sex.

"got another one in you, pretty girl?" logan asks, slowly pulling out of you.

"y-yeah." you answer, letting him move you how he wanted.

logan slips your nightgown off of you and lays you down on your back again. this time fully taking in your form. every curve, dimple and scar. he makes sure to pay your breasts some attention, taking one in his mouth and massages the other, pinching and rolling your nipple until your whining. desperately you attempt to rub your pussy against his abs, gaining very little friction from it.

if he wasn't in this rut, he would've taken more time to appreciate this. next time he will.

you open up for him again and he slips in with ease. logan brings your thighs to your chest, folding you in half.

"harder, please." you beg, staring up at him with those wide eyes that he's a sucker for.

"i don't want to hurt you, baby." he grunts, trying to restrain himself.

"i can take it, lo." you tell him, stroking his cheek with your much smaller thumb. "i know you need it right now."

instead of answering with words, logan bends down and kisses you in a more tender way than before. as soon as he picks up his thrusts, you tug softly at his locks, making his hips stir and lose rhythm for a second.

"you like it rough, don't 'ya, princess?" he grunts in your neck while his thumb moves to rub circles on your clit. "fuck, my cum is just spilling out of you."

a tear rolls down your cheek, only further encouraging logan. licking up the salty tear before it falls off your skin. never in your life have you felt so dirty.

"please, need to feel you logan." you whimper and he knows exactly what you mean.

"don't worry, baby. i'm close." he says, feeling you flutter around him.

logan's gaze stays locked on where the two of you are connected, watching him slide in and out of you. almost drooling at the image of his cock in your stomach.

within minutes, you're soaking his cock like you did his fingers. slick landing all over logan's sculpted torso. your fingers gather some before bringing them to his lips, letting him lick them clean.

a loud animalistic growl signals his release, painting your walls again for the second time tonight.

both of you lay stuck together. neither ready to let go of each other just yet. on the floor, you notice something light blue peaking out of the back pocket of his discarded jeans.

"so that's where my panties went?" you giggle, capturing logan's attention.

"yeah..." his voice raspy and deeper than usual. "sorry 'bout that, sweetheart."

"it's okay." you reply. "but next time that you get these 'cravings', come to me and i'll help y–"

logan cuts you off on with the rock of his hips and the wet slosh of your ruined cunt. before you can even moan, he's grabbed your white panties next to you and shoves them in your mouth.

fuck, he should've come to you sooner.

– tags: @hazydespair @itsmemuffy @wolvndmouth @nightingale-slayer @melday0105 @collector-of-furby-furs @solistarrs @atomicmystery @milfsarefineashell @ohfourgotten @keerygal @shewolverinesworld @tezooks @spookysquids @llorentezete @actuallybridgetjones @planetxella @silversprings-mp3 @coocoocachewgotscrewed @lethallyprotected @laweona150 @sturnsvoid @emoevanafton @slowlikehoneyyy @ginnylupin @omnivirgo @shiv-r @buckyssugarchick @ayamenimthiriel @balariie @ssloveslogan @stabbedfawn @dxddyspup @leggomiegg0

[chiscaralight]

cw: shy!choso x reader, prone boning, college au. sukuna and gojo ver linked at the bottom!

college athlete!choso who’s an absolute beast on the field. everyone loves to watch him play, it’s almost like a movie every time he’s out for the game! he’s always ready to charge headfirst when it comes to his sport, and he won’t let anyone take it away from him.

college athlete!choso who doesn’t talk to anyone outside his teammates and a select few. it’s fair anyway, a lot of people only want to speak to him bc he’s deemed important, not like they want to know him.

college athlete!choso who’s also known for his aloof personality. but when you’re partnered up for an essay, you soon realize everyone is painfully wrong.

college athlete!choso who’s the most shy thing ever! it almost breaks your heart how he starts to stutter and avoid your eyes while you work out the details, just humming in agreement and you swear he almost passes out when you ask for his number.

college athlete!choso who’s practically about to fall off the edge of your bed, trying to sit as far away from you as possible. it’s like trying to coax a hostile cat to eat food you brought it, but with the way you’re looking at him, choso is sure he wouldn’t mind you putting him in your mouth just a bit.

college athlete!choso who finally warms up to you after a couple of evenings together. there’s still significant distance between the two of you, both physically and emotionally, but he’s more open now. he can actually hold a conversation with you now, and he thinks you’re the coolest! he can’t get you off his mind at all, whether he’s walking to the field hoping to spot you on his path, or secretly searching for you in this shared class.

college athlete!choso who jerks himself off to the thought of you after practice, making sure the locker room is empty as he moans out your name, wishing it was your hand wrapped around his cock instead.

college athlete!choso who forgets he’s supposed to meet up with you, cussing himself out when he sees your texts and missed calls. you’re super understanding though, and you tell him to take his time or you can reschedule if it’s better. but he assures you he can be there in less than ten minutes.

college athlete!choso who’s at your door in three minutes, panting and soaked. you can’t tell whether it’s from the shower water or if it’s sweat, but your eyes are more focused on the outline of his exposed arms and damp shirt clinging to his frame. he’s babbling, saying sorry for wasting your time, he ran because he couldn’t find his keys! but his apologies are hitting deaf ears, your mind is definitely on something else. and he notices.

college athlete!choso who’s eyes widen when you pout, shyly asking him to kiss you. this is something you’ve been trying to avoid since the first day he sat in your room, but it’s so hard to hold yourself back when he looks like this!

college athlete!choso who presses his back to the door, holding you in his arms while your tongues tangle. he’s moaning around your tongue, shamelessly feeling you up while you grind your front against his hardening bulge. he’s almost embarrassingly loud, but each sound he makes sends vibrations straight between your legs.

and you’d have to say the same for yourself, fingers dragging down his arms, around his neck, across his chest. but the real kicker is when you softly place your hand against his abs. he’s unconsciously flexing beneath your touch and it draws you in like magic. maybe he’d have good core strength? you’re the one who’s going to put college athlete!choso to the test.

college athlete!choso who passes your test in flying colors, prone boning you with an ease that has you seeing stars. you’re face first in the sheets, cries muffled by the pillow your head rests on while he slams into you like he hates you, much different from the way he asks if you’re okay after a couple of thrusts. you can’t even get your head up! and he’s getting worried but you guide his hand towards your neck, struggling to place your head in the crook of his elbow before telling him to squeeze.

college athlete!choso who gets off on the way your eyes roll back and your voice gets whinier. his hips falter just a bit when you call out his name in that voice, and if not for how good you felt, you would’ve teased him for the way his cock just twitched.

college athlete!choso who can’t face you in class the next day. you’re a little sad when you don’t see him, so you decide to check the field later in the day.

college athlete!choso who freezes up when he sees you waving from the stands. his teammates don’t miss his change in demeanor, and they start to laugh and nudge him in the side, teasing him about the cutie cheering him on from the bleachers.

college athlete!choso who comes up to you during their break, face still blazing hot from the exercise and the memories of you from last night. he says he would have hugged you but he’s insanely sweaty right now. not like you would’ve minded, that sweaty body was all up on yours last night like it was nothing!

college athlete!choso who gives you a nice long kiss before he leaves. trying to drown out the sounds of his team hollering at the two of you from a distance. you break the kiss with a laugh and tell him he can come over later if he wants.

college athlete!choso who forgets his keys and runs all the way to your place for the fourth time this week. he doesn’t mind though, he just thinks of it as prep for the calories he’s about to burn with you in a couple of minutes.

sukuna ver here!

gojo ver here!

geto ver here!

choso pt2 here!

[visdollie]

can you write a vi x f!reader where vi absolutely does not care how hard she fucks you? i figure she doesn’t realize her own strength at times, after training her whole life. and i want to be on the receiving end of that 🤤

will do cutie!!

there are a countless amount of things you love about your girlfriend, vi. you could write a novel about it, but at the top of the list it’d be her body.

it almost hurts you; her toned, beefy biceps sticky with sweat after working out (kicking peoples ass), or even just lifting you up to reach the upper cabinets.

how badly she made you wet in a simple black wife beater. how defined the curves of her abs were in a compression shirt. you couldnt handle it.

and she knew too, atleast you thought she did.

during you and your girlfriends first time, she was gentle and soft on you, and even that was too much for you to handle. her girthy thick fingers pressing into your warm, spongy walls; the way your pussy dripped onto her abs as you rode them. you came in less than 5 minutes that night.

vi didnt know realize how much of an affect sex with her had on you. you swore it was all on purpose when she’d lick you out till tears welled up in your eyes, or when she’d manhandle you on her strap thats half the size of her arm. yeah, even her strap was huge.

you weren’t complaining, though. you went back begging her to fuck you silly every single time, which got you stuck in this situation.

“baby.. please, its-“ you were cut off by a third finger being pushed into your glossy cunt, making your back arch off against her chest. she’d made you cum a good four times, to the point where your eyes were dried out of tears.

you settled between her legs with your knees propped up, your hands full of the damp sheets and one of her arms caging you down by your hip to make sure you wouldn’t run.

her thumb was focused on your clit as she rubbed at the sticky bud vigorously. it was messy; cum and spit everywhere, strings of loud whines leaving your mouth.

vi’s piercing smokey, blue eyes stared down at your cunt, grinning at your fucked out face. “dont wanna hear that mess angel, nuhuh. you better take it. you look so pretty..” her praise made you whine.

to her, it was a regular fuck. nothing too bad, but she had no idea what she was doing to you.

the deeper she pressed into you made you keen loudly n pout your lips in overstimulation. “fuck, vi.. c..cant cum anymore..” your voice grew breathier the closer you got to your fifth orgasm. she gripped your face, tilting it n bringing it close to hers as she licked up your tears from your jaw all the way down to your collarbone.

“too much? you’re okay, baby. just wanna make you feel good.” vi apologized wordlessly by pinching and rubbing at your nipples with her free hand. she selfishly stared at your hips struggling, fucking a fourth finger into you as she pounded them in like a jackhammer.

vi’s fingers were sore n cramped from fucking into you at such a relentless pace.

her fingers moved in and out of you at a speed that almost made you dizzy. you swore you’d pass out if you went on for any longer, but you handled it for her.

you could feel how soaked she was through her underwear just by your noises alone. the shifting n squirming around; your ass rubbing against her clit made soft groans leave her lips.

“gon..gonna cum..” vi sped up her rough thrusts at your whimpers, kissing down your neck.

she used her free hand to spread your thighs farther open, whispering a “dont think i wanna let you cum, pretty,” in your ear. an immediate whine left your throat.

vi loved prelonging your orgasms. she loved the thought of having complete control over your sensitive body. it was almost a misson of hers to take over your brain everytime you two fucked. she wanted to ruin you, make her your little doll.

you didnt know how much more you could take. it was just mean how rough she was being.

right before you could tap out, she pulled her fingers out of you slowly, watching a string of your creamy juices connect your pussy to her fingers.

a long, drawn out huff left your lips as you caught your breath and tried to regain your composure. “you’re a fuckin beast, vi. fuck..”

she giggled at your comment and planted a kiss on your forehead, getting off the bed and digging around in her bedside drawer. you already knew what was coming.

“vi.. please-“ “shh.” she cut you off as she pulled out her strap.

“you thought we were done baby? cute. cmon, you can handle more.”

a highly expected whine spilt from your lips— mouth opening to oppose, but you knew there was no point. you just had to listen to her.

you spread your legs, hissing at the soreness in your pussy and inner thighs, and clasped onto the sheets prepared for more hours of torture.

it was gonna be a long fucking night.

@ visdollie 2025

srry if this was bad!!

[yameoto]

SUPERNOVA CAITLYN KIRAMMAN

kpop idol caitlyn X her insatiably horny junior

"Noona is so cool!"  You mimic, voice pitching either higher or lower, depending on which of the plethora of comments you pick, at your leisure. "Caitlyn’s a CF goddess. Her talents are seriously wasted. Wah, her visuals are really otherworldly. Unnie looks so good I’m creaming my pants—" Caitlyn fixes you with a flat, unimpressed look, at that last one. “It doesn't say that.” You grin, like the effervescent angel you are. “Yeah. That was just me.”

tw; dom/sub!caitlyn, brat!reader, idolverse, girlcock, semi-public sex, sex in dance practice rooms, mirror sex, handjobs, handjobs during vlives, voyeurism, mild age-gap, age hierarchy dynamics, use of korean honorifics. idol!caitlyn x idol!reader wc; 5.1k. ao3

notes: set in modern day runeterra. ionia encompasses the entire region of asia in league which i personally find stupid but i dont make the rules. fluff/smut/humour. derivative of korean culture (kpop idol au) + pokes a lil fun at stan culture. no prior kpop knowledge is needed (though it would likely help) the sex is filthy regardless. wrote this after finding caitlyn is only a 1/4 white like hallelujah jesus

CAITLYN looks stupidly good. Like stupid, stupidly good. Her grey sweatpants are slung low on her hips, waistband of her briefs peeking out. Sweat-slickened abs glare back at you, from the floor-to-ceiling mirror. The outline of her bulge is visible. These are all observations that you latch into like an IV-drip hooked-up to your wrist, in order to stay alive—lest you die from the fatigue. And boredom.

“Please,” You grumble, head slumped on your knee as your arm drops to the floor, phone abandoned Candy Crush side, up. “Please, please, please, can we go home?” 

“No,” Caitlyn huffs, hands on her hips, looking entirely too good as she takes a momentary (and you mean, momentary) break to swig a sip of water, before she hurls herself right back into it, sweaty and stunning.

The two of you have been trapped in the practice rooms for what feels like eternity. Or, more accurately, Caitlyn has trapped you in the practice rooms for what feels like eternity. You would rather be snuggled up and content in the comfort of your dorms; rather than slogging away in the basement, like you’re still trainees clawing your way up the company ladder inch by inch—rather than the four-time daesang winners, face of Ionia’s girl-groups’, and other innumerable accolades under your belts that seemingly mean nothing to your fearless group leader. At least, at the moment.

You’ve long slunk to the floor, sleepy eyes tracing the way sweat rolls down Caitlyn’s nape as she re-runs the movements for about the zillionth time. Her shoulder-blades flex through the thin fabric of her shirt, sweat dampening into a darkened pool in a way that should be gross, but on her, it just looks sexy. The ache in your muscles has simmered to a low burn, by now. Jeez, your eyelids are slipping. Thank God you have your sweet leader to ogle. The sight of Caitlyn’s bulge peeking through those sweatpants is practically your sole motivator in keeping your eyes open.

“You know,” After what feels like a decade, you pipe up again, because time has begun to melds together. “You’ve got it. Seriously.” The swig of water that sluices down your throat is lukewarm and unsatisfactory. Fuck, you’re thirsty. “The stage is a week away. You’ll be fine.”

Caitlyn’s eyes narrow at you through the mirror, incredulous.

“When in the world has fine ever been good enough?” 

Okay, sure. Caitlyn’s right. But she’s more than fine. Almost-perfect, actually—and come seven days—her dance moves will indubitably be heaven-sent and her ending fairy will probably trend #1 on three different social media platforms, and you will most definitely tug her ear endlessly about it, like the benevolent, supportive junior you are.

Seven days prior, however—and all you are is tired, grouchy, and maybe just a little bit horny. 

“I crave the sanctity of my blankets.” You lament, hand falling over your forehead as you languish on the floor, because the sun has probably set by now and you are seriously contemplating the possibility of dying of old age in this godforsaken practice room. (Not that that would be so bad, if Caitlyn were with you).

“You can go home, you know,” Caitlyn sighs, twisting around to face you, sneakers squeaking on the glossy wooden floors. 

“How am I supposed to sleep without my favourite member as a bolster?”  You pout, snatching on the chance to act a brat, immediately. Caitlyn just rolls her eyes, but her lips twitch upwards, so negligible that if you weren't so tuned in to all-things-Caitlyn, you might’ve missed it.

“Clingy.” She mutters, like she doesn't love it. Loves being your favourite. Not that it matters, because the glimmer of hope that flickers in your chest when Caitlyn crouches down in the direction of her bag—is immediately quashed when she only taps her screen, and the speaker rewinds all the way to the start. 

You’re really starting to hate this song.

“Are you serious? That’s not enough to rouse your cold, dead, heart?” You whine, because usually Caitlyn would've caved to your grabby-hands and doe-eyes by now (especially with the way you look; lips parted and shining with spit, water trickling down your chin down the column of your throat, from the leftover rivulets of your water-bottle.) Not that Caitlyn doesn't notice. She’s just really, really determined to get this right.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

“You work yourself too hard.”

You stretch to a stand, elongated and cat-like before you slink over and sling yourself dramatically along Caitlyn’s back. Her expression contorts into exasperation. She attempts to turn her head, to face you—to no avail. Not when you’re pushing her up against the mirror and the pinning her down against glass with the power of aggressive spooning on your side. Her hand shoots out to brace against the mirror, as your fingers hook the hem of her sweats, and Caitlyn stiffens under your thumb, lips falling open against her will.

“Darling,” She inhales, in that addictive, throaty accent of hers. Caitlyn sounds almost pained, as she catches your wrists—though she neither takes them in or wrests them away. The both of you have full view of the rising tent in her groin.

“What?” You smirk, teeth grazing the shell of her ear, like the sneaky little bastard you are. “Don’t tell me you’re planning to practice with a boner, unnie. That must hurt.”

Caitlyn’s breath hitches, and her knees almost buckle, if it weren’t for the way your arms tighten around your waist and squeeze the growing problem at her crotch. Your fingers twine with the string of her trackpants, loosening them under slim, deft fingers.

“Honorifics? Really?” Her voice is tight. She’s screwed. You only ever whip those out when you want something, seeing as how you've been speaking informally to your technical senior  since your very first meeting, in trainee days, (an accident she so loves to recount on variety shows. “It’s not my fault you just looked so young and pretty, unnie.” You’d fumble in defense, eyes wide and doling out the extra sparkle for the cameras as they zoomed-in on your frantic apologies, laugh track sure to be edited in. “What was I supposed to think?”

“You’re lucky I was too kind to scold you,” Caitlyn sighs, and—in a dramatic show of theatricality—flips the inky-blue curtains of her hair behind her shoulder, much to the hosts delight. “I can be really mean, baby.” 

That had been a hit. Probably because of the way her drawl had lilted playfully and she’d cupped your jaw in the most egregious display of fan service you’d ever seen. Caitlyn’s always known how to wrap the media around her pretty fingers; and your stammer and ensuing blush had mercilessly crowded your feed for at least two weeks, afterwards.)

That’s in public, though. In private? 

Caitlyn is a puddle to the graze of your fingers along her hipbone, and the glide of your breath up her neck. Dark eyes meet hers, hooded and intent, reflected in the pane of metal in front of you. It’s certainly a sight to behold. The two of you are both dripping in sweat, Caitlyn’s cheeks flushed, bare-faced and glowing—hair tangled up in that loose ponytail that you've always found so much hotter on her, than any amount of hours in the styling chair could ever produce.

“I really need to..” Caitlyn’s protests sound weak even to her own ears. Especially when heat pools in hot, throbbing waves that rush straight to her dick, and she's cut off by her own gasp when you nuzzle in the nook between her shoulder-blades and your hands—beautiful, cunning hands—ghost over her crotch and squeeze. Her entire world lurches into a haze, body spasming upwards.

“Unnie,” You breathe, sweet and soft, like the devil in her ear, “please fuck me.”

Just like that, Caitlyn can’t take it any longer. A low, strangled noise rips from her throat, eyes fogging over and black eclipsing blue. Lithe hands coil around your wrists, and flips your positions entirely—thrusting you right up against the glass.

Her muscles are throbbing, hours of dance practice flaming up her bones; but she pins you down with the strength of a woman possessed, all the same. As far as Caitlyn’s concerned, she’s like a sleeper agent to your bedroom voice, and the fact could never shine with more clarity, than now (other than the time you’d done a Lola Shark impression in an interview and she’d gotten, to her horror, embarrassingly hard underneath the blanket thrown over her lap. She’d had to call in a bathroom break, to take care of it—much to your smug, haunting amusement).

In the mirror, you watch as Caitlyn’s breathing shallows into pants, tongue licking hot up the stretch of your neck to under your jaw. Neither of you miss the brief, smugly satisfied spark to your eyes and glowing hot between your thighs, even as both squeeze shut when you arch up against Caitlyn’s bulge. She grinds down against your ass, and you moan, so brazen she almost can’t believe it.

“Shit. You're so shameless,” Caitlyn mutters, breaths rushing harsh against your shoulder as she fumbles with the knot at your sweats, rutting hopelessly into the coil of your figure. The moment thread slips free, pants pooling to your ankles as you bend over, head thrown back—Caitlyn’s brand-name briefs soak with a splurge of pre so intense she almost thinks she’s come early.

“You want my fingers?” Caitlyn asks, just to be a bitch. Your eyes squint open to glare at her through blurry vision and through an even blurrier visage.

“Don’t joke,” You spit, voice hoarse with want. It's meant to sound demanding, but all it comes out is whiney, and Caitlyn’s laugh sends shivers down your nape.

There’s a millisecond in which your mind empties completely, and it's almost cruel how you can only see the reflection of Caitlyn’s cock curving upwards from her underwear rather than the real deal. 

Caitlyn’s grasp is like steel around your neck. She thrusts you forwards, your flushed cheeks smushing against the cool surface of the mirror as your stuttered breaths puff in grey clouds of condensation. A groan wrangles itself out of your throat from being manhandled like that, knees wobbling the moment you feel something hot, thick and so, so wet press insistently against the backs of your thighs. Arousal has already begun to drip down your legs, running down in rivulets and moistening the floor under your feet. Yours or Caitlyn’s—you don’t have the eyes to know.

“Unnie,” You breathe, shakily, voice raw. Your fingers are slippery against glass, and you whimper when the familiar stretch of two fingers sinks into your cunt. You slide open, just like that, and Caitlyn temporarily wrenches you back so that you can see your fogged-up reflection in all its full, filthy glory. 

“S’not enough,” You pant, back arching and ramming urgently against her digits she’s spreading you wide, with—so eye-wateringly slow. Maybe it’s the fact that you've been working yourself up, blatantly eyeing her down, for hours since your head checked out of training and your brain devolved into its most primitive urges in coping with your mind-numbing boredom. 

“Not enough?” She grins, sharp-toothed and devastating, adoring the upper-hand. “What? You need a third finger, baby?” The noise that tears out of you is almost like a wounded animal, and you'd be embarrassed if you weren't so overcome with need and prolonging this teasing sounds like torture.

So, you answer with the obvious, “Your cock.” You hiss through gritted teeth, because Caitlyn loves it when you beg for her dick and you’re too hare-brained and empty to do anything more than push back, impossibly deeper into her fingers. They sink to her knuckles of entirely your own volition, without her having to do so much as twitch. 

Caitlyn’s laugh is practically a goad in itself. The lush curtain of her lashes are lowered, irises swallowed up by the deep dilation of her pupils. Still, though, she takes her time in playing with you, just a little longer. Revels in the way you thrash around her fingers, fucking yourself back, desperate.

Herself is one thing. Her dick can only take so much, however. The ache becomes too much, too soon, and the second she runs her glossy head against the drenched, hot pulse of your hole—she can’t not shudder, knot in her throat, before her fingers slip out of your pussy and your consequent whimper is interrupted by the plunge of her cock.

“Hah, baby..” Caitlyn whimpers, eyes fluttering back as she fucks you against the mirror, nails dragging up your hips and digging into supple flesh. Never has Caitlyn felt so at home, submerged in the deep, velvet ocean of your cunt.

“Unnie—” You gasp. It’s the one word, echoing over and over, like an all-consuming siren song throughout your head—with each gasp that comes with every thrust of Caitlyn’s hips, motions growing sloppier as the exhaustion of hours of tireless exertion catches up to the both of you. She nips at your ear, then down the curve of your nape, to the unblemished skin of your upper back. Teeth grazing, pads of her fingers leaving scorching trails as she gropes up your body—your mind a jumbled, fuzzy mess. Her cock plunges in and out, still guided, though she never slips out more than mid-way; bodies sticking together like gum. Like she can’t bear to be apart from you for even a moment—even if it is to pummel your cunt until you can hardly take it anymore.

It’s only when the pumps and rolls begin to slow into simple, gentle rocks, to absolutely nothing but a twitch—that your mind clumsily clasps onto a semblance of clarity, hasty and brief, like you know it’ll slip away and out of reach, soon. “Wha..?” You rasp, half-slurred, even if what you really want to whinge is; What’s goin’ on? Why’d you stop? And, please, please, please. Don’t stop. Keep goin’. Fill me up. Please, don’t ever stop— and other half-baked nonsense that you’ll be glad your tongue was too thick and heavy in your mouth to spill.

“I can’t mark you,” Caitlyn grunts, and your eyes sharpen, just a little. Her tongue peeks out from her lips as her expression looks disproportionately distraught, like it’ll be the end of the world if she doesn’t stake some sort of physical claim on you, eyes darting downwards to your unblemished shoulders with a low growl of frustration.

Distantly, that part of you is still clinging onto reality, knows she’s right. That your comeback is in a week’s time and risking a hickey or a bite-mark or worse (because Caitlyn is stronger and sharper and rougher than her delicate figure should ever have been allowed to be), is a bad, bad idea.

But the larger part of you—the part of you that is currently being railed by her unnie’s cock and trying desperately not to squirt cum all over the practice room mirror—rasps out a reckless, ragged, “Who cares?”, and that’s all the permission Caitlyn needs.

Caitlyn pulls out, and slams herself in again, grip on your waist, bruising. Your hands go sliding, uselessly against the steamy surface of the mirror, long fogged-up under the slick tangle of your bodies. She’s mouthing slurred nonsense into your ear, the music speaker knocked over by one of your ankles and emitting distant sounds from where it's rolled, to the other side of the room. Neither of you could give a single fuck. 

Not the least, when Caitlyn’s hand is sliding up your throat and thumbing over your gaping lips. It feels as if a pink-hued fuzziness has descended the room and become a thick veil over everything, and when her fingers slip into the hot, wet gasp of your mouth—it's only right for you to take the digits in your tongue and suck. 

“Ahnngh—Cait—”  

“When did I say you could speak informally to me?” Caitlyn husks, fingers pressing deeper into the roof of your mouth. In your reflection, you can see the razor angle of Caitlyn’s jaw as she nuzzles into your ear. The obscene glisten of your spit, coating her fingers and coasting down your chin as her digits languish between your parted lips. You look every bit like her precious fuckdoll, right now.

“Unnie—”

“Ah-ah.”

“Sunbae.” 

“Mm. That’s better.”

Her free hand skims up your shirt, slipping up the taut lines of your body and flicking idly at one nipple. You whine, garbled around the gag of her hand, and Caitlyn lets out a moan of content when your pussy tightens around her shaft.

“Fuck,” She pants, teeth sinking down into your shoulder and you buck, even though the pain barely registers with how Caitlyn barrels her cock in you, deeper, and your eyes roll back into your skull. Your thighs are shaking. “M’gonna—hfgh—” 

Her hips draw upwards, and Caitlyn cums like a faucet. All of it, inside you. Outside of you. Dripping from your still-leaking cunt and droplets getting fucked out with each, desperate thrust as she moans, guttural. “Take it—fuck—” Caitlyn groans, harsh and insistent as she pounds, your pussy squelching—so wonderfully wet—as your fingers scramble against the glass, her fingers cramming deep inside your mouth.

“Ah-ah—fuck!”

The two of you go crashing down, sliding down against the mirror and onto the floor with a twinning, indecipherable slew of obscenities, a boneless, panting heap, still moving in tandem. 

You both slump, slippery and sticky. The song on the speakers re-starts, yet again, from the other side of the room, though it's the first time it's even pierced your ears in the past forty minutes. Caitlyn groans, pushing her nose into the crook of your neck, arms tightening around your waist. The mirror is splattered in both your cum.

“We’re gonna have to clean this up, aren’t we?”

“..Probably.” You sigh, still leaking around her cock as you angle your head, the two of you slotting together like missing puzzle pieces.

Twenty-four hours and countless Kleenex wipes later (and really, cleaning your own cum from floor-to-ceiling mirrors—with two half-guilty reflections staring right back at you—is an uniquely humbling experience); it was totally worth it to see Caitlyn appropriately red, after the crash of post-nut clarity.

It’s your one, blissfully empty day before comeback promotions launch you all into full-throttle. You intend to enjoy it while it lasts. 

“Your latest Lotte CF went viral,” You pop behind her, totally innocously if weren’t for that familiar, impish glint in your eyes. Caitlyn sighs, not even glancing up from the stove, completely nonplussed. Probably because Caitlyn could record herself taking a piss and it would chart #1 on Melon.

“The seonjiguk is simmering.” She ignores you. You ignore her right back.

“Look at those dimples,” You beam like a little shit as you wave the video in her face. “Maybe you should go into acting. The GP would go crazy.”

“No thanks,” Caitlyn snorts, hand lifting upwards to stifle a brief yawn, sleeves coming up all the way to her knuckles. “been there, done that.” 

“Oh, right. All your Piltovian film connections.” You hum, idly tracing the underneath of Caitlyn’s elbow as you lean over her shoulder to watch her cook. She’s markably improved from her humble beginnings of blackened, bubbling slag (what was once instant Buldak), or the scotchmarks that still hail the kitchen tiles, to this day.

“Mhm. I was almost poached. My mother wanted me to—what was that? Follow in her footsteps.”

“Well, I’m grateful that you didn't,” You hum, into her shoulder. You poke her side, grinning. “Then you wouldn't have met me, and wouldn't that be tragic?”

Caitlyn scoffs, but you feel her sink a little deeper into your embrace, eyes flitting to settle onto the top of your head, as you nudge into her. You both, really are grateful.

You’re pretty sure Ionia is grateful, too. 

Whatever the day, it always feels like Caitlyn’s name has taken up a permanent residence in the nation’s newsites. ICE PRINCESS. AI VISUALS. ATTITUDE PROBLEM. Her quarter Piltovian and subsequent accent injects an ‘attractive exoticism’ (or whatever management had stapled to your files, at the dawn of debut), that had made Caitlyn internationally explosive, too. 

The Kiramman surname certainly helped. Caitlyn’s debut was like, the biggest plot-twist in nepotism, ever. It was like if Nicole Kidman’s kid suddenly became Hatsune Miku. Not to mention the fact the Kirammans are the largest benefactor of Hextech, whose global rollout of leading-edge tech has gone unmatched. Of all careers for the Kiramman’s mysterious, devastatingly attractive daughter to take—this is the one that took the entire globe off-guard. Including the great and glamorous, Cassandra Kiramman.

Of course, the initial shock long lapsed underwater, with the constant roil of the media waves. Caitlyn’s fame, however, has not.

“Noona is so cool!”  You mimic, voice pitching either higher or lower, depending on which of the plethora of comments you pick, at your leisure. “Caitlyn’s a CF goddess. Ah, her talents are seriously wasted. Is she an angel? Her visuals are really otherworldly—”

“Get that away from me.” Caitlyn swats your phone away with a scowl, pretty pink flush glowing on her features.

“Don’t act all coy,” You prod her so-highly-lauded cheekbones as Caitlyn huffs in annoyance, though begrudgingly leans against the touch anyways. You squish. “We all know you’re preening inside.”

“I am not!”

“Ooh, sexy. I love it when your accent comes out like that.”

Caitlyn groans, because you’re impossible, and just twists so that she’s facing you, back against the kitchen counter. You reach behind her to switch off the stove.

She hooks her fingers into the hem of your pyjama shorts, thumbing over familiar cotton. She sighs outwardly, propping her head up on your shoulder and slumping forwards to rest the cold press of her nose into the crook of your shoulder. Her fingers skim up your shirt, absently rubbing circles into the plane of your stomach.

“You know I hate it when you read those.”

“About how you look like an eepy bunny when you’re sleepy? Or that you have moles in the shape of a giraffe on your nape.” You arch a brow, looking past her as you flick through the blurs of text in various degrees of capitalisation, on your phone. A subtle smirk lifts your lips. “Hey. Is that true? Let me check.”

She scowls, and then almost looks offended that you don’t know that already (You do. Caitlyn also has a darkened, heart-shaped birthmark indented in the crook of her inner thigh—but that’s just for you to know, thank you very much).

Your voice raises a pitch. “Unnie looks so good I’m creaming my pants!”

Caitlyn fixes you with a flat, unimpressed look. “It doesn't say that.”

You grin, like the effervescent angel you are. “Yeah. That was just me.”

Oh, now Caitlyn’s cheeks go red. You push valiantly past the triumphant flutter in your heart, in favour of continuing your teasing. Hey—there’s no schedule today, the dorms are all to yourselves—and you’re on a roll. 

“Look. They wanna steal your eyes and put them in a boba drink.”

Thoroughly fed-up with your antics, Caitlyn snatches the phone out of your hand, and you immediately squirm, to lunging for it. Caitlyn’s ridiculous height advantage has the one-up on you, though, and you puff out an aggrieved yelp of protest when she dangles it above your head, like a dickhead.

“Hey, what the fuck?” You complain, like your comeuppance wasn't exactly what you were hoping for. Except you were more aiming for a pin-you-against-the-fridge, fuck-the-insides-out-of-you type of comeuppance. Not a sordid reminder that you need a stool to reach the top of Caitlyn’s head. “Don’t lord your freakish Frankenstein genetics over me!”

Caitlyn laughs, eyes flickering down. “Are you on your tip-toes right now?” 

Your eyes narrow, because you do not appreciate having the tables turned on you. Your hand shoots up to cup her jaw, tilting it upwards. Caitlyn softens, putty in your hands, adorable furrow in her brow melting away along with her pride as she sinks into your palm with a soft sigh, arm falling to her side.

There we go.

“It’s not my fault you avoid socials like the plague. I’m just doing my duty to take care of my leader’s PR. Your fans are starving.”

Caitlyn grumbles, “Well, let them starve.” though it comes out pinched between smushed lips, cheeks squishing like a dumpling. So heartless, like she’s not the industry’s princess and probably makes up a total of 50% of the company’s annual income. You know exactly why, as you cradle her face in her palms and watch as she leans upwards because no matter how disgruntled Caitlyn acts, or how shockingly humble she is under that front of aloof, arrogance–she definitely preens under attention.

Just. Only yours. 

“Hey, you know what? We should go live right now.”

“What—?” Caitlyn stammers, flabbergasted by the sudden change in direction, “Don’t—“

Too late. Within seconds, you’ve swiped your phone back from her limp hands and flipped the vlive on. Recording. Like, now. Damn, you're speedy. 

“Ah..” Caitlyn’s expression smooths over to that charming, impeccably gorgeous grin of hers that shows off the sharp curves of her cheekbones and has won her the hearts of a nation. 

You pull her to the couch, and under the scrutiny of the camera—Caitlyn acquises with little more than a subtle elbow to your ribs, when the both of you go thudding into the cushions with a low oomph.

Then, you flop against her chest, and the stream of hearts that ensue are absolutely incredible, comments rolling in faster than you can read them. There’s a reason why the two of you are the most popular pairing in the group.

“Hm. Is it on?” You muse, faux confusion tugging on your pretty features. Knitted brows and a plush little pout always do the job, especially when you add a sneak of tongue. No doubt to be screenshotted and re-uploaded countless times, within the next hour. “Hello? Can you guys hear us?”

Which is, you know, the perfect time to grab Caitlyn’s dick through her pants.

A choked noise resounds beside you, and you don’t glance over, for you’re too busy fiddling with the phone and the settings and all other kinds of bullshit that is really just an excuse for you to focus your attention on snaking a hand down Caitlyn’s waistband, just out of view of the camera. “Oh! It’s working. Did you miss us?” You beam, as Caitlyn struggles not to either sock you in the stomach or throw her head back and moan.

If anybody notices Caitlyn’s pupils are suspiciously blown, it doesn’t come up. What does come up, is her ever traitorous cock that lilts immediately into your touch. Fuck. Fuck, fuck.

“Aw, little Caity’s missed me, too,” You croon, as your sneaky fucking fingers stroke idly along her girth, underneath the veil of her sweatpants and just over the thin fabric of her underwear. Caitlyn visibly bristles, because, 1. You’re jacking her off. 2. She hates that your coo instigates a flood of love-bombing so intense, that the hearts on the screen almost completely obscure the both of you. 3, and the most important one; you just gave her dick a nickname! 

“Cait.” You tease out, eyes glittering, not even bothering to conceal your amusement as Caitlyn’s hips buck upwards, her fingers pinching against your sides, lips completely shut mum, for fear she’ll let slip a moan on camera. “C’mon. Say something. You missed them too, right?”

Gods. Caitlyn hates you. She really, really hates you. Just—not enough to not shove your hand away when it starts to peel away the waistband of her underwear. If only because the feeling of precum soaking its seat, sticking to her skin, and not because she’s itching for the sweet relief of your hand around her cock.

“..Hi,” Caitlyn forces her winning, boxy grin, and the years of practice make it an admirably unstrained effort. Maybe she really should go into acting. “Mm. Long time no see, hm?” 

“Unnie’s being awkward, today.” You snark, all sly, and Caitlyn shoots you a glare. She’s rewarded by the sudden, fervent warmth of your hand wrapping around her dick, and then the harsh tug of your fist that has her knees jerking upwards and her dastard slit spurting out a shiny, hot glob of precum. She swallows back a low, strangled whine, like a dry pill. Oh, Gods. She’s supposed to say something.

“Ah, just..—we’ve—ah—”

In a rare show of mercy (because apparently, you’re not out to throw both your careers to the dogs), you swipe the phone back with the most cherubic, triumphant grin to adorn your face, literally ever. Catilyn lets slip a barely-audible hiss as your fingers coil, just a little tighter, stroking up and down—thumb running back over the swollen, gloatingly shiny cockhead.

“We just had a long time in the practice rooms for our comeback, yeah? So we’re pretty tired. Right, unnie?” 

Oh, you're really pushing it, now. 

“Mm. We’ve been—working. Really hard.” She has to lean out of the screen to release a silent, desperate gasp, nails digging into the back of the couch as she tries to rut up into your hand in a way that doesn't obviously send the sofa, trembling. You idly thumb over her slit, smearing the thick, embarrassingly copious amounts of pre down her length. It twitches in your palm, as you ramble on about schedules and the comeback and spoilers and other things that have long become white noise in Caitlyn’s ears. Her hips chase your touch, brazenly, now. She barely even realises when you’re calling it quits; early, too. Because obviously, this was all just to fuck with her.

“Caitlyn,” You sing-song—smirking (supremely unsubtly), at the camera. “Say bye-bye.”

She only just registers the comment. Barely. “Bye.” Caitlyn’s voice is a low croak, hips arching upwards off the couch just as you end the live. Just in time, too, because—

“Oh, fuck.” Caitlyn releases the longest moan of her life, cum spilling over your fist, and she collapses back into the couch. Your phone falls from your hand, and you’re practically shaking with laughter. 

(“Little Caitey,” Caitlyn grumbles, after the fact, with your head nestled between her thighs in apology, “That’s preposterous. What’s so little about her?” Nothing. But there’s no fun in that, is there? At the slow, sly smile spreading on your face, Caitlyn groans. “What?”

“You referred to her in third-person.”

“..Please just suck me off already.”)

[bouqette]

biker!vi who would deliberately speed up just to feel your arms tightening around her waist. she is a sucker for the feeling of you pressed up against her back, or any form of physical touch, really. every time she reaches a stop light, her hands would reach back to squeeze your thighs or calves, rumbling a low “you good, sweetheart?”.

biker!vi who lets you stick stickers and draw whatever you want on her helmet, proudly showing it off to everyone that her sweet girlfriend designed it. she clips the cutesy matching couple keyrings you got for her along with her motorcycle key, and it’s almost funny to see the splash of pink peeking through her black and grey gear. 

biker!vi who likes to show up unannounced, revving her engine loudly outside your house to get your attention. she mostly does this to annoy your stuck-up neighbours, who have threatened to call the cops on her multiple times for simply riding her bike down the street. but the one thing she does have to thank their pompous attitude for was the fact that you’d come running out of the house in record time. it worked like magic. you’d still be pulling your hoodie over head, frowning as you rushed up to her with a look of disapproval. 

biker!vi who would just shrug her shoulders, an infuriatingly attractive grin playing on her lips as she greets you, acting as if she wasn’t the main reason why your neighbours glare at you whenever you bumped into them. she’d greet you, cocking her eyebrows and playing innocent. pretty, princess, sweetheart — she always manages to sweet talk her way out of it.

biker!vi who’d have her hair tied back into a short ponytail. even though you’ve already seen her in this hairstyle a handful of times, it still makes your heart thump heavily against your chest. something about the way she leans back against her bike, leather jacket hugging her shoulders perfectly, tank top lifting up just enough to reveal her toned abs… and it doesn’t help that she likes to hold eye contact with you while she bites onto the tip of her glove, tilting her head to one side to pull it off. she’s a menace, and you know it too. she knows exactly how to get herself off the hook, ending her little show with a teasing wink. (inspo of vi with her hair tied back)

“miss me?”

“vi.” you huffed in exasperation. partly because you’re annoyed that you’ve already folded before you even started to reprimand her. the fire in your heart had already diminished before she had even said a single word. 

“yes, princess.” vi hums in amusement. 

you sigh, taking in a deep breath as you stepped towards her. “you know you shouldn’t do that.”

“i’m sorry.” vi said, her voice anything but sorry. she lifted her heavy boot to rest on the pedestal of her bike, pulling you in between her legs, hands rested firmly on your hips. 

“you don’t sound quite sorry.” you murmured, almost embarrassed by how weak your voice sounds. vi chuckled, her fingers trailing along the hem of your jeans, grazing the bare skin under your shirt.

“hm, maybe i can show you, then?”

you rolled your eyes, but made no effort to resist when she reached for the back of your head, pulling you into her. her lips were soft and hot, her mouth moving against yours as if she had been starving for a taste of you. your hands find their way to her hair, the feeling of you tugging at her roots making her groan into your lips. her own hands roamed down your body to the back of your thighs, pulling you impossibly close.

when you finally pulled away, she rested her forehead on yours, hot breath grazing your cheek.

“still mad?”

“yeah.” you breathed out, your voice lacking every form of conviction. 

vi tilted her head, her eyes glazed as she stared at your slightly swollen lips. “guess i’ll have to apologise better.”

biker!vi who calls her bike baby. she does in fact love her bike, but it’s more so to annoy you. the two of you were chatting in the parking lot of a supermarket, holding the drink she had just bought for you in one hand. you were about to lean against her bike when vi reached forward, a firm hand wrapping around your waist to stop you.

“easy, don’t dirty my baby.” 

you raised an eyebrow. “your baby?” you echoed. 

vi grinned, “yeah, she’s my baby.” she said, patting the leather seat of her bike. “don’t tell me you're jealous of a bike. i mean… i do ride it.” she smirked, and you rolled your eyes. 

you pushed your drink towards her chest, and she quickly grabbed ahold of it. “what are you…” her voice trailed off as she watched you swing your leg over her bike, straddling the same seat she does when she drives.

“you ride it like this?” you turned around, holding her gaze while you rocked your hips against the leather seat.

fuck. 

you had just put an image in her head that beat every single wild fantasy she ever had of you.

her lips were parted in stunned silence, making you laugh lightly. “come here, princess.” you cooed, beckoning her over with a curl of your finger.

vi’s eyes burned with desire, she placed your drink down on the floor, almost tripping over her heavy boots. but she couldn’t care less about embarrassing herself — not when you were straddling her bike with that smug grin on your face. 

unfortunately, your satisfaction was short-lived. 

vi stepped onto the footrest wordlessly, her leg pressing into yours and pining it to the bike, the pressure giving you a small taste of the friction you had been yearning for. in one powerful motion, she swung her leg over the bike, sitting on top of the fuel tank to face you. her legs were spread wide, thick thighs enveloping yours, and her smooth leather boots rubbing against your exposed calves. 

vi looked down at you, her eyes drinking up every inch of your body. a sudden warmth spread through your body, and you tilted backwards under the heat of her gaze, only for her rough hand to grab the base of your neck, her touch gentle yet firm, holding you in place. 

“why don’t you ride something better instead, baby?”

[luvyeni]

( drabble ) intoxicated ̨ ! ୨୧ 一 방찬 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ chan comes home drunk with only one thing on his mindヾ

boyfriend!chan・ reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・ sex under the influence, unprotected sex, breeding kink, pregnancy talk wc ・ ‎0.8k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

request. can you make one of Bangchan? please, he is drunk and horny after a party and he is obsessed with getting her pregnant ?

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 i loved writing this idk why i hope you like it <3

looking at the clock it was way past midnight when you heard the door open. “baby!” you heard your boyfriends slurred voice. “baby where are you!” you shook your head — shrieking when he came bursting through the door. “baby!” he yelled out. “hi baby!” you laughed at how drunk he was. “hi chan.”

“hi baby.” he smiled, face flushed as he stumbled over his own feet. “not that drunk i swear.” he said, but his actions said otherwise. “i missed you so much.” he kicked his shoes off; unbuckling his pants. “wished you would’ve came out tonight.” taking his shirt off, tossing it. “it was fun.” he clumsily climbed into bed, falling flat on top of you. “bang christopher chan!” you yelled, slapping his bare back. “get off you are heavy.”

“why.” he whined , wrapping his arms around you. “why are you being so mean?” his face pressed against your stomach. “i love you so much and you’re being so mean.” his eyes closed, you shook your head, thinking he was going to fall asleep. “chan let’s lay down now.” you tapped his cheek. “come on baby.”

it was silent; you thought he had actually fallen asleep — that was until you felt his hands lifting up your shirt. “channie what are you doing?” he hummed. “just wanna feel my girl.” he rubbed all along your waist. “you smell nice.” you chuckled. “it’s your body wash.” you ran your fingers through his hair. “i know, but im talking about your natural scent, smell so sweet.” he kissed your bare stomach. “ch-chan.” you warned.

“what?” he said softly, slurring his words. “let’s lay down.” you said, trying to get him to sleep, even though he was slowly turning you on. “o-okay.” he said, before sitting up, quickly pulling you down, your head hitting the pillow. “let’s lay down.” he kissed your neck. “ch-chan you’re intoxicated, we’re not having sex tonight.” he whined against your ear. “you’re not taking advantage of me , i know you feel how much i want you right now.” he took your hand, running it down his abs, down past his waist. “see.” he groaned, placing it on his cock.

“ye-yeah but you’re still not in your right mind.” you didn’t want to egg him on, but he wasn’t having it. “im well in my right mind to know how much i want to put a baby right here.” he pointed to your stomach. “wanna fuck you so full that it has no choice but to stick.” the air was too thick, you could still smell the alcohol on his breath. “let me finally put a baby in you.” his hand working into your panties. “chris.” you moaned. “see you’re so wet, you want this, you want to be fucked full of my babies.” he groaned. “let me do that.” his fingers slipped into your dripping cunt. “gonna get you pregnant tonight.”

chan was insatiable when he was sober, but it was nothing compared to when he was drunk. you were on your 4th orgasm, chan on his second; the clock beside you was almost at 2:30 am, but he didn’t plan on stopping — determined to have you swollen with his kid by the end of the night. “fu-fuck baby.” he groaned, his hips snapping against yours. “fuck i love this sweet pussy so much.” he groaned, his face flushed. “chan.” you moaned out. “so fucking tight , taking my fat cock like the good girl you are.”

he was pinning you to the bed as he plowed into you. the squelching noises from your previous orgasms filling up the room. “fuck you hear that baby -fuck- you pretty pussy is talking to me.” he huffed. “she wants to be bred so bad , she crying for my cock.” his necklace dangling in front of you. “you wanna cum for me?” you nodded dumbly, you were now intoxicated but not like alcohol, but his cock, you sobbed out. “so bad.”

“cum for me.” he whispered in your ear. “fuck chan!” you screamed out, you sweet juices spraying all over his abdomen. “ye-yes fuck baby.” he groaned. “fuck cum all over me.” he continued you to fuck you. “that’s it -fuck- fuck me im gonna cum again.” he moaned, cock twitching as his filled you up for the third time that night. “fuck im gonna breed you , fill you with my seed, give you a pretty baby.” he groaned. “fuck i love you so much.”

feeling his warm cum pouring inside you, he sighed falling against you, your bodies sticking together. “chan , channie get up we have to clean ourselves.” you could feel his heart beating as he softly snored on top of you. you ran your fingers through his sweaty wet hair. “told you , you were tired.” you kissed the top of his head. “you big goof, you know you can’t hold your alcohol.” he wrapped his arms around you , holding you close. “sleep now.” you chuckled. “fine.” you said, finally drifting off to sleep.

almost a week later the two of you were standing over the sink in your bathroom , a positive pregnancy test sitting right in front of you.

©️LUVYENI

[gojosprettyprincess]

First time with Yuta!! ₊˚⊹ᡣ𐭩

Not proofread, both are 19. Don’t take this seriously I wrote this while I was like half asleep :p

Yuta loses every factor of his well-being the literal second he feels your tight warm pussy enveloping his cock as he slowly thrusts it into you, feeding you inch after inch of his cock for the first time, he literally shivers as he feels your leaking hole coating his twitching dick with your essence.

You both were virgins so he kept promising you over and over that he’ll be so gentle and soft with you, he’d rather die than ever hurt you even if it was an accident. He’d question and constantly ask if you were sure that you were ready for it to happen and even though you kept reminding him that it was fine, it’s bound to hurt even if it’s a little, for the first time but he’s just so sweet and caring he had to make sure you were 100% okay with it!

But after he stuffed his cock deep—all the way into your hole to the point where the small huffs of his pubic hair planted on the base of his cock were tickling and grazing your puffy clit so deliciously, the wave of pleasure was just sooo overbearing for him. It’s something he never felt before even when he’s jerking off. The feeling is just not comparable, not even close—your pussy felt like fucking heaven to him. He whined, his breathing growing heavier as he stared down at your pretty face distorting in pleasure and pain. His eyes filled with pure lust and adoration as he wrapped your legs around his waist. “Fu-fuck! So this is what it hah!—Feels like?? Your pussy feels soo good baby, so warm and tight around my cock. You look so pretty like this” he moaned, his hand moving to slowly pull his shirt off his head, revealing his toned abs and bulging biceps. You bit your lips as you stared at the eye candy but quickly got caught off guard when he starts fucking himself in and out of you, his veiny dick dragging against your sensitive velvet walls.

You moaned out loud, he murmured a low “fuck” under his breath as he sped up the pace, feeling your pussy growing even more gushier and creamy as he opens it up with his cock. He pushes his dick so deep into you to the brim that it’s so brutal at the way his angry tip hits your cervix as if it it had personal problems everytime he forces his inches into you. You whimpered as the two of you held eye contact before his head fell back in pleasure, your cunt fluttered around his hard cock after seeing the sexy scene of your boyfriend being pleasured and fucked out. Your eyes roll back in your head as his tip nudges against your g-spot so deliciously, “Mmm baby your pussy looks so pretty being split open around my cock like this” he groaned, moving his thumb to rub messy circles on your clit.

“Ohmygosh Yutaa I love you so much, fuck! it’s so fucking good” Your back arches as you cried out, he uses that as his chance to grip your waist tighter and pound his cock into you at a deeper angle, your tight walls squeezing so snugly around his cock, threatening to milk it dry.

“Shit- I love you ngh! —too pretty girl! So so much! Love this little pussy too, taking my dick so well. You're doing such a good job baby” He moaned out, almost choking on air as he muttered curses under his breath that you didn’t even know existed.

Heavy meaty balls slapping flushed against your asshole as he bit his lips, feeling himself approaching his release. “Fuck baby m’gonna cum, be a good girl and cum with me yeah?” He basically begged, voice sounding pathetic as ever as he continues toying with your clit. You nodded, eyes screwing shut as you felt him twitching inside of you like crazy, his leaky tip grazing against your favorite spots that had your toes curled against his lower back.

“Lets—cum! Fuck yuta, cum inside of me, need you to fill me up pleaseee” you begged, Yuta gaved you a look that screamed “say less” before you felt steamy hot liquid overflowing in your tight hole, followed by your sticky cum coating his cock. A white O ring appearing at the base of his cock as he continued fucking his sticky seed back into you. “Fuckkk—Attta girl, taking my cock so well, this pretty pussy was made for me baby” He beamed a smile down at you, so innocent and sweet that you can’t believe it’s the same man making your cunt ache while he stretches it out the very second. “You look so beautiful like that my love, all pretty and stuffed with my cum”. In conclusion, after this he kept his cock stuffed inside you so you can cockwarm him while both of your cum leaks out of your overflowing hole.

[ghouljams]

what sort of body hair & body types do you think the 141 boys have

So glad you asked:

Starting with pretty boy Gaz, He's absolutely got the gym body. You know the one with the perfectly sculpted muscles, tugging his shorts up to show off the flex of his thighs for the camera as he grins, rolling his shoulders back to show off the lats, flexing for the camera. He's more lean muscle than huge body builder vibes, like it's definitely tailored to his body type, but it's that instagram influencer perfect physique. He's got a well groomed smattering of hair. Not a ton on his chest but plenty of people are eyeing that neat happy trail as he does chest presses at the gym. Lemme get a peak at that man in the sauna...

Soap is a big lad, but it's all muscle. He definitely is going for more of the body builder physique. Packs on muscle really well, and tries to manage his macros so that he keeps his abs when he wants them. The man is stacked. He's also hairy. He's the motherfucker that you're hoping to death wipes off the gym equipment because you can see him sweating through that pelt he's got. Good dark hair on his arms and legs, and chest hair you just wanna bury your face in. You're not even into that stuff but when he raises his arms to grab the lat tower bar you kinda wanna run your tongue through his underarm hair. You just know that man doesn't even trim his pubic area...

Ghost is just naturally big, but he also packs on muscle like a motherfucker. Ghost has a solid strongman look, like he definitely works out, and you've seen him bench 400 lbs without breaking a sweat, but he also looks like he never turns down a slice of cake. Olympic dead lifter type. You could watch him run on the treadmill for hours with the way his pecs bounce. Doesn't look hairy because he's blond, so it's very light wispy hair, but he's got a nice map of curls at the base of his dick that just make you wanna suck him off. Always lets his towel sit too low in the sauna, when you die, you wanna come back as the sweat dripping between his tits.

Price... You wanna talk about a man that pass up a decent meal it's Price. That doesn't mean he isn't in the gym with his men, it just means he's the one in the mess at midnight grabbing that last cookie before bed. He's good at shedding the weight though. You see him before a mission and he's trimmed up, but once he's home he's a bear of a man. That goes for the hair too. That man is so fucking hairy. Thick dark hair all over his body, to the point where you're not sure he isn't a werewolf or something. You actually checked the lunar cycle once when he wiped his face with the bottom of his shirt in the gym, and you saw the thick hair trailing down the center line of his stomach. (What a man, what a man, what a man)

[reignpage]

Homecoming

In which you welcome Simon home

Warnings: 18+ mdni, porn with a little plot, female!reader, thigh humping, fingering, spitting, brief mention of improper use of a beer bottle and a mask, spanking, mentions of masturbation, unprotected sex, a little angsty at the end

“Y’ gonna keep staring, lovie?”

That’s a fair question. You are staring a lot. But you can’t help it; your boyfriend, Simon, is manspreading in front of you. He’s got a bottle of beer in one hand; his other arm is slung over the back of the couch as he idly watches a football match on the TV. Having just gotten back from service this morning, he hasn’t had the time to change from his outside clothes — wearing tight, rough denim jeans which wrap around his thick, muscular thighs in a delectable way, and a black hoodie that would completely blanket you if you were to put it on.

His mask is still on; he takes a while to feel comfortable enough to take it off. But the bottom half is folded over to reveal his chin and lips so he can sip leisurely. 

Giving him a sheepish smile, you skip over to him, standing in the way of his view of some silly game. Wearing just a shirt, his shirt, you watch him eye your legs with barely hidden desire. It’s so easy to rile him up, but you find you’re just as bad if the wetness in your panties is anything to go by. 

“Sorry, Si.” He swings his arm around the back of your thighs, encouraging you to straddle him. “You just look so good.”

He hums, letting you get settled in his lap whilst he rubs his thumb over the skin of your hip almost as if he can’t help himself. “Can look as much as y’ want, lovie. ‘m all y’rs.” 

That is not helping. You feel bad for jumping him as he unwinds from long months of tough work, none of which he’ll ever disclose to you and that’s just fine, but he just smells so good, feels so good. Everything about him is perfect — broad shoulders, hefty arms and cuddly pecs, and oh god, his dick. Let’s not even get started. 

Rough and worn out, his jeans scratch your thighs. It’s a delicious sensation and you can’t help but shift your hips ever so slightly. Simon notices. Of course he does; he notices everything. 

But he doesn’t say anything, just continues to brush his thumb and takes a swig of his beer. When a drop runs down his lip and threatens to dribble over his chin, you don’t hesitate to lean over, licking the liquid clear off. His grip on your hip tightens, both as a reflex and as a warning. 

You’re being told off. 

Something between your legs pulses. 

“Si,” you whine. Sliding his hoodie and the shirt underneath up, you grope his abs with one hand whilst the other climbs higher feeling for the heavy muscles at the top. You grope his pecs. Simon doesn’t look impressed. “I wanna play.”

“Can’t help y’rself, can ya?” His voice is gruff, laced with exhaustion but also something deeper and darker. And even as he keeps his gaze locked on the TV, you know he’s watching everything you’re doing. 

He sees the way your thighs are cradling one of his, grinding back and forth in tight circles and feeling the material dampen with your juices. Simon doesn’t stop you, so you keep going, loving the friction. It sends dull jolts of pleasure up your spine, you want more but this will have to do for now. So, you continue, letting out low moans as you go back and forth. 

When he swings his head back to take another gulp of his beer, you rush forward to kiss him, swallowing the alcohol as you share. It’s slightly sweet but bitter, through it, though, you can taste the distinct flavour of Simon — dangerous, loving and protective. And all man. 

You pull away, some of the liquid falling down your chin and onto your lap, but he doesn’t let you go, just grabs the back of your head and smashes your lips to his. It’s a powerful clash of teeth, nipping on your bottom lip and rendering you speechless. Then he’s taking advantage of your gasp as he pushes his tongue through, searching for yours and wrestling in a merciless battle. 

“Ride me then, sweet’art.” He grunts, feeling your legs clench down on him. You’re grinding faster and faster, feeling that distant wave of pleasure nearing and nearing. It’s so close, you’re so close, and when he starts kneading your ass, guiding your movements, you grow overwhelmed. 

It's been too long, you're sensitive and everything from the scraping of your shirt against your nipples to the callouses on his hands is driving you crazy. Months of fingering yourself to the memories of his body on you and riding his pillow, imagining it was him, are catching up.

He flexes his thigh, and you tense. In a frantic whimper, you call out his name as the pleasure washes over you, grinding faster and faster as you ride it out, “Si!”

“Good girl,” he whispers against your neck, kissing the crook of it. “That feel nice?”

You nod, but then you’re frowning, brows furrowing. “Want more, Si.”

Simon knows what you need but he can’t give it just yet; you're nowhere near ready. So he slides a hand between your legs, cupping your pussy through your soaked panties. His middle finger traces the parting of your lips, from the sources of all your wetness to the little bump at the top, and he presses down. 

You jolt. 

“’ere she is,” he huffs, “let’s make y’ feel good, yeah?”

He’s not even talking to you, but you nod regardless, riding his hand as he presses harder, his palm rubbing against your clit. It’s too dull and he knows it, can see it in the way you’re shutting your eyes in frustration. Feeling particularly merciful, he pushes your panties to the side and feels your pussy in all its glory. 

“Fuck!” Simon shuffles, adjusting his cock. “Y’r soaked, sweets.”

His lips are parted, and his eyes darken, narrowing at the apex of your legs like it’s threatening him, like it’s killing him. You want him to take off the mask so you can see and feel all of him, but this is enough for now. Simon circles your clit with two fingers, rubbing tight circles just as he knows you like, pressing down hard once in a while, leaving you a spluttering mess. 

And when he dips lower, feeling your juice pool on his palm, he curls his fingers inside. Your hips jerk up and he exhales an amused breath. Still under his shirt, you dig your nails into his skin, no doubt leaving crescent indents there, but the pain only spurs him on more, and he curves his fingers against the ridges inside your walls,

“Simon!” You moan. “Yes, right there!”

He keeps pressing, letting you ride the heel of his palm. You’re being stimulated inside and outside and it’s so good. Something cold touches your most sensitive point and when you look down you find yourself clenching and gasping. Simon's pressing the half drunk bottle of beer against your clit. The change in temperature sends flashes of heat through you and you can't bring yourself to care about the mocking grin on his stupid face.

Whilst he rubs at your g-spot, you ride the bottle, all warm and slimy from your hard clit. He's holding it still, unmoving despite the aggressive circling of your hips.

"Ya like tha', dove? Gonna cum from my beer?"

Shaking your head, you whine out a reply, "No, I wanna -ngh- come from you, please!"

You kiss him, desperate to feel his lips on you again and he humours you, letting you take your time. Eventually, he discards his beer, and both of his hands are exploring your body underneath his shirt. Dragging his dull nails down the curve of your spine, you arch, pushing your tits into his chest. Your nipples are poking through and his other hand cradles one breast, enjoying the smooth skin there, and he's cupping the heavy fat, revelling in the weight.

Perhaps it’s because it’s been so long, or maybe it’s because it’s Simon and he knows your body better than you do, but you come in embarrassingly quick time. It takes both of you by surprise. You spasm around his fingers, lips parted in an elongated moan, twitching and tensing, until you fall limp on his chest. 

And then Simon is laughing. He’s actually laughing at you. 

“Simon! Please! I want more,” you beg.

“Yeah?” He seizes your wrists with his large hands pressing your hands down on his zipper. “Want more? Y’ gotta take it, lovie.”

Wasting no time, you unbutton his jeans, pulling the zipper down and then freeing his cock. It’s already fully hard, the tip red and leaking. You swipe a thumb over it and bite back a moan when he hisses. It’s been so long and he’s so big, you’re in for a tough time. 

“Fucking love these tits,” he grunts. “Missed ‘em.”

You gasp when he pinches and then pulls. 

More. 

You need more. 

Pushing your panties aside, you kneel and line his cock with your fluttering hole, wetting his head with a mix of his pre-cum and your juices. When you slowly lower yourself, you both hiss as his cock head is stretching out that tight first ring of muscle. He’s too big. 

Your eyes are shutting, face scrunching up in a little pain. It’s been months since he’s last been inside and your pussy’s almost forgotten the shape of his dick, every curve and every vein. A tragedy of the highest order. But you’re no quitter, so you keep lowering, spreading your legs as far as you can to accommodate his size. And oh god, you feel so full and he’s not even all in yet. 

“Si, it’s too much,” you’re gasping, reeling. It’s like you’ve been deprived of oxygen, searching for air.  You’re gripping his head, revelling in the scratchy material of his mask, grounding you as you push through that stretch. 

Something even darker flashes in his eyes and his uncovered mouth curls into a sneer, it’s terrifyingly beautiful, a wolf stalking its prey in the woods — you wonder how his enemies feel, his menacing mask being the last thing they see. Then, with a soft voice, comforting and warm, he reassures you, “Y’ can take it, lovie. Always -ha- take it so well for me, don’t ya?”

And you do. Somehow, despite the impossible stretch and his daunting, never-ending length, you always take him to the very hilt. With his hands guiding you, you feel his cock head scrape all the way inside, reaching your belly button and you’re overwhelmed. Every part of you has been filled up and you clamp down on him. 

You both hiss.

“Good girl. Such a good fucking girl for me,” he grunts. “Take y’r time, yeah?”

Nodding, you circle your hips slowly, desperate to adjust. Simon grabs the back of your neck in a possessive hold, firm and final as he smashes his lips into yours again, like he can’t help himself, like he needs to taste you, need to feel your tongue wrap around his. You lift just an inch and drop down. 

“So good,” you mumble against his mouth. His stubble is growing in and the friction sets your skin alight. “Si, I missed this.”

Groaning, he thrusts up into your tight cunt, his cock head kissing your cervix and it robs you of your breath. His hands urging you, you lift and slam down again and again, going higher and higher with every thrust, and slamming down harder and harder to wring out those shallow breaths out of him, to drive him to maddening pleasure just as he’s driving you over the edge.

This isn’t just hot and rough sex, this is love. With every kiss, every bruising force and every smack of his heavy balls against your ass, you feel his frustrations at having been so far away from you for so long. All the lonely nights, the time differences that got in the way of phone calls, and all the times he had come close to returning home in a casket. 

“Fuck, lovie.” He’s trying to breathe through his nose, to maintain his cool, but every squeeze, every clench from your sopping wet pussy is tearing apart his sanity thread by thread, and he’s being rendered powerless. “Too damn good, Christ.”

“Si! More, please,” you’re practically screeching as he meets you thrust for thrust, bracing both of you for the pummelling up of his thighs. Even when you’re on top, he has the control, the ultimate authority. When he grinds your hips down when skin meets skin, you’re reminded of how easily he can wrestle you into place. 

You grow wetter. 

Simon doesn’t know where to look; your pussy is drenching his cock and his jeans, leaving a tantalising ring of cream around his base and your mouth is parted, eyes rolling to the back of your head, and gun to his head, he wouldn’t be able to say which is more beautiful. Both are certainly making his cock throb. 

“I love you, Simon!” You repeat over and over as you slam down on his cock, moaning and whining at the stretch, at the way he’s hitting that spot inside of you that’s making you see stars. “I love you so much.”

He buries his face into your neck, sucking and nipping at the skin. “Shit, y/n, don’t say tha’. Gonna make me cum.”

Somehow, he’s growing even bigger; he’s threatening to bulge out of your pussy. You feel him in your stomach, hell you feel him in your lungs. A growing pressure inside of you is screaming for him to stay in there forever, it’s building and building, and the crash is going to be magnificent. 

“Fucking missed this pussy, y’know? Had to wank in the toilets at night -shit - and bite my fist to keep quiet when I remember how -ngh-  fucking perfect this tight little cunt is.”

It doesn’t even register what he’s saying, you’re too lost in the pressure. And you don’t even know if he’s talking to you, he’s just muttering whilst he thrusts up, hugging you to him. You’re both soaked in sweat, still clothed and your shirt is clinging to you uncomfortably, but you don’t care. 

“Watched our videos, the old ones -ha- and the new ones you sent.” He bites your neck, and you arch into him, pumping your hips harder and ignoring the ache manifesting already. “Jesus, lovie. You petting this cunt, my cunt, whilst stuffing one of my masks in your mouth -fuckkk- made me cum like a goddamn teenager. Made an arse out of me.”

He spanks your ass, feeling it bounce and ripple under his hand and he can’t get enough. Smack after smack, you’re being abused inside and outside whilst he whispers sweet nothings in your ear. 

“That dildo ya bought didn’t do shit, did it?” He’s pushing out a rumble of a laugh when you shake your head frantically, still bouncing on his lap. “Nah, course not. Greedy fucking pussy only wants me, yeah?”

“Only you, Si!”

His thumb finds your clit, rolling the little bud with his callouses, hard and fast just as he’s thrusting inside. Your filthy moans, the sound of skin slapping, squelching of your combined juices, and the low breathy groans coming from him fill the room, a choir from the dirtiest circle of hell.

“Open.”

You slack your jaw so you can take that glob of spit he drops in your mouth and accept the sloppy kiss that soon followed, savouring each other’s tastes. 

You’re both meeting each other’s thrusts harder and faster, with no particular rhythm, letting the desperate desire and the months of frustration and isolation wash away with every kiss against each other’s sweaty skin, tasting the salt and the sweetness there. 

“Cum for me, lovie. Milk my cock, yeah? Been saving up my load for ya.”

And you want it so badly, wanting everything he’s willing to give you. You need to have it inside, need to be branded with Simon’s essence. So, you clutch him to you and slam down just as he thrusts up. 

Your orgasm drowns you. Eyes crossing, head thrown back, and body spasming, you lose track of time. It feels like you’ve been stuck in a purgatory of utter euphoria. Your hips are still churning, trying to ride out your pleasure as you steal back air, gaping like a fish. 

"Yes! God, fuck fuck fuck fuck," you scream.

"So fucking tight," he growls.

Simon’s cock is being milked hard by your pussy clenching down and wringing every last drop as he shudders against you. His cum paints your walls and you’re both savouring the feeling — for too long the both of you have had to make do with just your own hands, or, in your case, cheap and weak replacements of his dick. Now you’ve returned to the real thing, you’re not sure you could part away again. But that’s a conversation for a different time.

Instead, you comfort his head through his mask, right before he takes you down with him, slumping against the couch. You bury your head in his chest, enjoying each other’s warmth as you both catch your breath.

“Fucking love ya, y/n,” he whispers. It’s somewhat broken, the extent of his physical and mental exhaustion leaking through and your heart breaks. “Can’t keep leaving ya for months. It’s doin' my fuckin’ head in.”

There isn’t really anything to say when Simon contemplates his occupation. You will never know what he truly does and the extent of his fatigue, and he’ll do everything he can to keep it that way. So that your light will never be dimmed by his darkness, by the things he’s seen and done, and never be dirtied by the blood on his hands. Not if he can help it. 

“All those times I wanted to see y’r face, to hear y’r voice and fucking couldn’t cause I’m in the middle of nowhere and y’r sleeping. Times when I wanted to know what y’r doing, if y’r alright and couldn’t cause ya can’t fucking reach me.” 

Simon brushes your hair with one hand whilst the other soothes your back, feeling your deep breaths and finding deep satisfaction in your weight grounding him, keeping him tethered. 

His hold on you tightens. “What am I gonna do if you get hurt and I can’t do fuck all? I’ll lose my fucking mind.”

“I’ll be fine, Si. Don’t worry about me.”

He’s the one that goes off into war torn lands, fights bad guys and has to wear a bulletproof vest and wield weapons on a daily basis, and yet he’s worried about you being here, in the civilian world, where your biggest danger is a splash of oil on your hand or slipping in the shower. Though you can’t fault him; the distance creates a sense of unknown that leaves your stomach all twisted up, and sometimes when you haven’t heard back from him in days, you can’t sleep. 

“Always gonna worry, love.”

There’s a finality in his words and you can do nothing but listen to his steadying heartbeat and clench down on his softening cock to remind yourself that Simon’s home. 

Not Ghost or Lieutenant Simon Riley.

But Si. 

Your Si. 

Always.

[malereadermaniac]

Moon Cycles ~ Alpha!Bokuto x Omega!Male!Reader

1 fic split into two! p1: Bokuto's ruts & p2: Your heats word count: 2.7k Nsfw / MDNI ~ amab m!reader / FDNI

Bokuto's Rut(s):

Entering your apartment, all of your senses were immediately overwhelmed and dominated by your alpha's intoxicating pheromones making every particle of air in your apartment feel heavy and thick. Luckily, you were smart enough to have placed scent patches over your scent glands before going home to an alpha who had to take the day off due to his rut; preventing Bokuto's musky scent of sweat and leather from triggering your own heat early, however that didn't prevent the inhalation of his strong scent, which had already started to make you feel woozy. Quickly throwing your keys onto the counter and stripping off your jacket, you make your way urgently towards the bedroom - your inner omega screaming to aid your poor, hormone-ridden alpha.

The moment you had opened the door, the intensity of your Alpha's pheromones had doubled, forcing a blush to hit your face and your blood to rush to certain areas. Your eyes darted to the naked volleyball player on your bed, a discarded and leaking fleshlight tossed beside him while the muscular man laid on the bed in a starfish position; his body sweating profusely as the alpha was panting, lightly pink in the face. It didn't take long for Bokuto to notice you, or rather your comforting scent which you hadn't even noticed you were releasing. You smiled at your exhausted looking alpha as he perked his body up, using his built arms as leverage to hold him up, a lovestruck yet lustful smile on his face; the alpha's veiny, hard dick twitching at the sight of you.

You both let instinct drive you to the position you were now in, your bottom half completly naked with your dress shirt unbuttoned, your smaller body laying on top of Bokuto's, your body cooling off the Alpha who had been boiling alive since this morning. The usually strong and effortlessly dominant alpha was reduced to a trembling, hot mess as the pit in his stomach was eating away at him, his eyes begging you to do something instead of his mouth; as the only words he were capable of barely saying were "O-mega", "Fuu-ck" and "Good". You gently ran your hands over Bokuto's muscular, olive body, soothing him as you grind your dick against his much larger one - The alpha groans as his masculine, rough hands are almost magnetically pulled towards your soft ass, gripping at the plush skin and pushing you to grind against him harder; desperate for any form of pleasure from the omega he had been craving all day, his omega.

"Shhhh... I'm here, alpha" you coo as you gently lick at Bokuto's very wet scent gland when the man tries (and fails) to string a sentance together, too overwhelmed by the burn of his rut.

The sounds that erupted out of Bokuto when you re-ajusted so that your slick-leaking ass was grinding against his alphan cock were to die for. Along with the usually spikey hair of your alpha, which was now drenched in sweat and sticking to his forehead, and his panting, sexy face, the sight was heavenly.

Again, you're ever so glad for that scent patch on you, because you get to consciously remember Bokuto's ruts, and boy were you lucky to experience them. The first round is always the most effort for you, the alpha worn down by his useless attempts at pleasuring himself throughout the day, along with his intense rut, having tired him out; meaning that you have to do all the work for your cute alpha as to not keep him in discomfort any longer. Riding him was always fun though, despite how tiring it could get; Bokuto's firm grip on your ass and waist grounding you and him as you ride his massive cock like no tomorrow, the veiny thing pounding against your prostate and kissing your walls so nicely as your dick bounces onto Bokuto's abs - you give him quite the show, pity he barely ever remembers it after his cycle. After the alpha finally knots your tightening hole, his body finally starts to cool down, the gnawing ache in his stomach dissipating as he locks his body within yours and absolutely fills you with his thick, fertile cum - but that's just the start of his rut, not only do you have more rounds that day, but you have an average 4 more days left in the week! Nevertheless, after Bokuto falls asleep and finally slips out of you, you use up the rest of your energy to make the starving alpha something to eat; your silly alpha having spent the day trying to relieve his rut rather than eating! And after the Alpha wakes up conscious and digs into whatever delicious meal you'd prepared for him, that's when the roles reverse. The rest of the rounds that night pretty much go the same, the alpha manhandling you into multiple different positions as you let Bokuto fuck you absolutely senseless, his knot having locked the two of you together at least 4 more times that night alone and your neck and body looking like they've been mauled by a dog from the amount of lovebites and hickeys all over you.

short Bokuto-rut headcannons:

His nests are made really poorly (like most alpha's are), just a shit ton of your clothing spread around the bed with various bodily fluids soaking them - not even a blanket in sight... Typical of alphas, only thinking of what gratifies them rather than their comfort or their omega's comfort!

Bokuto's a real kisser during his ruts as well. He's a clingy alpha who just wants to show his love for you, and that love is multiplied by 100 when lust is mixed into it! That man will be thrusting into you while your in an uncomfortable mating press with cum on your face and his will still kiss you deeply with tongue - you can't be mad though, it is quite sweet, and it relaxes your body, which is very needed after what this flexible man puts you through during his cycle!

Breeding. Kink. Need I say more? Yes I do. Of course, all alphas want to breed their omega, especially during their rut. But holy shit does Bokuto not stop mentioning it during his - whether he's doing the deep and whispers in your ear "Gonna get you full of my pups, pretty boy", or roaring "Take my fucking cum, babe! GET FUCKIN KNOCKED UP" as he's knotting you, or even during aftercare as the man rubs your abdomen gently and blurts out baby names; Bokuto is always mentioning knocking you up

Near the end of his Rut, Bokuto likes nothing more than laying you in his shitty nest and eating you out for hours... His thick tongue making you cum as he devours plenty of the tasty slick you just keep on producing

Oh and after his rut? Bokuto is literally the perfect boyfriend, more than he already is! You need an icepack? Done. Food? He's whipping ten meals up in the kitchen. The volleyball player apologises if he was too rough as he kisses you gently and gives you a massage. And when this man returns to practice, fucking hell does he look like he's glowing, professing to everyone how he has the best omega in the world which he loves more than anything (and gloating that he gets the best action ever, but he doesn't mention that part)

Your Heat(s):

Bokuto can always tell when your in pre-heat, he knows his omega too well, so he's already taken the week off work even though you deny the fact that you're going into heat - despite your constant, slightly flushed complexion and your lack of control over your pheromone. So when you start to nest, Bokuto is ready to go! That man has breakfast bars and 6 bottles of water ready in your nightstands and has started releasing a comforting scent of leather and musk before you even start to call for him!

Once the muscular alpha hears your whiny call for him, Bokuto gets instantly hard; making his way towards your shared room as he struggles to strip his joggers and shirt while walking. But just because the man is eager to pleasure you until you pass out, that doesn't mean he wants to rush things - and that includes his teasing.

"Aw... are you okay, baby? What do you need?" The volleyball player would coo at you in a very slightly mocking tone as he makes his way towards your nest. Bokuto would gently hold your searing face in his huge hand and caress your cheek with his thumb as he smiles at your pout, holding back a laugh.

"Shut up... please just hurryy~" You whine, reaching out to touch your alpha, rubbing your hand down his naked abs and towards his cock which was standing loud and proud.

After a little more teasing, Bokuto decides to show mercy, noticing how your panting increases in pace, how your scent of sweet, intoxicating caramel fills the room, and how your knees trembles on the bed as slick gushes out of your hole. Because of your rapturous heat, your vision is hazy and time slows down yet speeds up at the same time, so you had really no clue to how you ended up with your legs up on Bokuto's broad, muscular shoulders, his dick already in you and moans spewing out of your mouth as if you were in pain. But you sure as hell didn't mind that, as long as your alpha was soothing the pain searing across your body and making you feel pleasure beyond that of this world - you really couldn't give a fuck if you knew what was happening or not.

Sweat, musk, cum and a harmonious mix of your pheromones and Bokuto's filled the air, adjacent to the sounds of sweaty skin slapping against sweaty skin. All that was coming out of your mouth were the words "Alpha" or "Good" or "Yes" along with plenty different whines, and moans and whimpers which sounded straight up pornographic, and your sounds worked beautifully well with Bokuto's loud roars of pleasure and groans and moans - his dirty talk on another level as he drills his dick into you in missionary. After making your vision go white, your infertile cum shooting all over your body and Bokuto's rock-hard abs, your alpha ensured that you caught your breath and forced you to drink some water - the sweet, caring man not even giving a shit about the fact that his dick was still hard as shit and that he hadn't cum yet; which was a surprise by the fact that your sloppily, slicked-up hole, tight, boiling walls and sexy moans and look was usually a cocktail for disaster with Bokuto. But Bokuto would experience the immense pleasure of knotting an omega in your next round - and not just an omega, but you, his bonded, mated omega which he loved more than life itself.

With that said, once you had caught your breath and the heat began to pool in your stomach once more, Bokuto took that as a sign to use his rough, massive hands to re-position you. With your arms hugging one of the many pillows in your nest and your chin resting on it, Bokuto was kneeled on the bed behind you; both of his massive arms wrapped around your waist as he pounded into you like a fucking animal. With your knees spread and your back arching downwards towards the bed as Bokuto's fat dick drilled against your pleasure spot, you moaned and cried out your alpha's name like a mantra - your dick dangling below you, your dickhead lightly rubbing against the best, sending shivers down your spine. All you could hear were Bokuto's rough grunts and moans of your name in your ear along with his hips smacking against your plump ass in the background - your voice raspy and airy from how much you had been using it. Along with some dirty talk (along the lines of "Fuck baby, so fuckin' good and tight for your alpha aren't ya?") Bokuto would raspily groan out an "FUCK- Gonna fuckin' cum-! Gonna knot you- omega- my fuckin' omega-" - Bokuto would become the opposite of his cute, gentle self when he was so close to his orgasm, and fuck, you loved it. You could feel the alpha's knot swell, his already huge cock becoming even harder to take, but your heat was helping you make space for him - but you still couldn't just idly sit and take it!

"HAAAA~ Soo big, alpha! TOO- BIG!~" You cry whorishly, the immense pleasure flooding your body at an alpha knotting you making you overwhelmed, forcing your body to move around and try to escape the overstimulating pleasure - however that is a) not easily done and b) painful as shit for the both of you.

"SHIT-! Don't move while I knot you, (Y/n)!" Bokuto groans, the pain and pleasure of his knot forcing into you pushing him over the edge.

To keep you in place, the massive alpha pushes his whole arm down on your neck and his massive, rough palm on the arch of your back to keep you in your place, to take his viscous seed like a good omega. With Bokuto's knot swelling to full mast, the man's grip tightens around you as he shoots his huge load, filling you up and cooling your heat down to a mild kindle despite the searing temperature of your alpha's cum. You on the other hand were screaming your head of with moans from the immesne pleasure of an alpha knotting you (especially during your heat), your cocklet shooting ropes of thin jizz onto the bed below you as your walls clamped down on Bokuto even tighter. Panting was all that could be heard in the room as the two of you lied down together, your massive alpha crushing you beneath him, but you couldn't complain. Bokuto gently started to kiss you once he was able to think of anything other than the pleasure of cumming inside of you, nipping at the bite's he'd left on you and licking at your exhausted scent gland, admiring the mating mark on it.

short Heat headcannons:

It's a basically instinct for the two of you to like the fact that, as an alpha, Bokuto is larger than you as his omega - which isn't hard with the man being fucking huge. But my lord does that little size kink go fucking haywire during your heats - Bokuto loves to look at how his hands hold your waist, not entirely but just enough, while you in your heat-drunk haze think about how the massive man could literally crush you in his grip - the though making your dick twitch. The man isn't even that much larger than you! But give him an inch and he'll talk a mile (or whatever that saying is)

Scenting is one of your big things during heat. In an sfw work you scent everything that Bokuto owns before you go into heat, and you grab anything that smells remotely like him for your nest. But when the man is fucking you until your last breath, you can't get enough of your alpha's scent - practically begging him to rub his scent gland against yours

That's another thing, your usually snarky or even bratty behaviour goes out the window during your heat, your body controlling your words and behaviour; resulting in pretty begs from your mouth which stroke Bokuto's ego ever so nicely, who's he do deny you of whatever it is that you desire?

Bokuto's aftercare is also top notch, In between round the man is cooling you off and cleaning you while ensuring that you eat and drink. And near the end of your heat, when it's more lukewarm, Bokuto draws a bath and bathes with you, caressing your body softly and scrubbing the smell of sex off of your skin. But your heat is forced into its final hurrah when Bokuto uses his long, masculine fingers to clean your loosened up hole of his thick cum, his comments of knocking you up sending you over the edge and into the final hour of your cycle~

[verysium]

attractive things bllk characters (unintentionally) do?👀

i received this ask and decided to write this entire thing through a caffeine-powered fever dream. may have gone a little overboard. please pray for both your sanity and mine. thank you anon for your strong sense of imagination (or delusion, whichever you prefer.)

nagi lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face, and you accidentally (or not so accidentally) get a good look at the droplets running down his abs and v-line. he also does the doorway lean while waiting for you to get ready. since he's so tall, he puts his one arm up on the top of the door frame while scrolling through his phone. when he feels drained of energy, he clings to you like a koala, face buried into the crook of your neck.

rin pushes his hair back when his bangs get in the way, and it shows off his ridiculously sharp side profile. sometimes you have to pause mid-conversation because the direct eye contact gets too intense. he has the brightest turquoise eyes in existence, and they stare right into your soul. pair that with the height difference and him towering over you. hang onto your ovaries because this man is about to snatch them. if isagi or sae are anywhere remotely close within your vicinity, he will personally drag your chair closer over to him. you know, the whole nick jonas chair pull thing? he also unintentionally clenches his jaw when pissed, the vein popping out and everything.

barou is polite to his elders. he holds the door open for others. he tips extra at restaurants. he is kind to service workers. he's just a gentleman overall even though he likes to act tough. he rolls up his sleeves while cleaning or cutting up vegetables, and you can see the veins bulging in his forearms. wears those form-fitting aprons where you can see the outline of his waist and the muscles in his back. he is not immune to raging pit bull moments, but he will calm down immediately when you ask him to.

kaiser requires physical touch to function. all concept of personal boundaries goes poof in his little ego-driven brain. he holds your chin so you look up at him while he's talking. also has that husky growl when he wakes up in the morning. he speaks german. what else is more attractive than that? if you stroke his ego, he will puff his chest out like an emperor penguin and flash that movie star smile. does not slow down his pace for you, and will laugh at your expense when you trip in heels and fall. but then he feels guilty about it and begrudgingly picks you up and carries you home. however, before that he will make you swear on everything holy to never tell isagi about his moment of weakness. (tbh kaiser is a menace and has some serious self-esteem issues. pls avoid dating a man like him in real life until he is fully mature. i still love him tho.)

reo mansplains but not in the condescending way. he does so in the "omg i'm so excited to finally get to share something with you and you're never going to believe it" sort of way. rambles on and on about his interests and gets that little glint in his eye when he's passionate about something. also not sure if this counts but he gets extremely depressed when you don't message him back within five minutes. what do you mean you were busy? he was out here dying from a literal famine. he needs your affection to survive. last but not least, he is good at styling. he knows what colors work best for you, and he will put together three new looks for you in record time.

hiori dreams that you left him for good and wakes up crying with his arms around you. will refuse to let you leave the bed even if it is just to get a glass of water. his rare moments of emotional vulnerability are what gets to you.

shidou does not condone any of your bad decisions. you want to get shit-faced and party until early morning? no complaints from him. you want to wear sexy outfits to the club? say less because he's about to enjoy the view and knock out the front teeth of every guy who dares to ogle you. i don't know if this qualifies as being attractive, but he would never be the controlling type. you can dress and act however you want. unfortunately for you though, this is also a textbook case of the blind leading the blind. if you get horrendously hungover, so does he. if you get pulled over, he's going to be too blackout drunk to even comprehend the officer's words. you can count on him for a good time, but not anything else. do not take any of his advice at face value.

oliver likes to show you off even if he doesn't notice it himself. any talk with his team, and he will find a way to make the entire conversation about you. at this point, the entire u-20 team is done with him. they placed bets that you two wouldn't last more than a month due to his philandering reputation, but the universe seems to think otherwise because you and oliver hit the six-month mark and are still going strong.

ness guards your drink with an unnecessary amount of protection. while you left to go use the restroom, he was looking left and right, and the hairs on the back of his neck were prickling every time someone even came close to your cup. he also shoos away any person who opens their mouth while standing next to your drink because apparently the condensation from their breath could be dangerous. definitely covers your cup with both hands even if it has a lid. no suspicious shit is happening on his watch.

yukimiya is well-read, and he wears glasses. he has a copy of every single classic out there in existence and will fangirl along with you over your virginia woolf collection. he was written by a woman with two cats and a wine glass. not much else to say.

loki absolutely clears the entire carnival/arcade game. you want that giant teddy bear that costs over three hundred ticket points? say less because he's about to win the whole damn pot. of all characters, i would say he's one of the only green flags. like celery green.

isagi always looks for you when he enters the room. intentionally or not, he always seeks your presence. if someone says a funny joke, he turns to you to see if you're laughing or not. also does that somewhat creepy stare thing where he just looks at you quietly while you do mundane tasks. internally he is screaming cus what do you mean you actually like him?

chigiri gives you that thankful little smile whenever you stand up for him. i feel like people don't understand how goofy he can get as he's canonically good at doing impressions/impersonations. also has the prettiest laugh. if he ever cuts his hair, i think i'm going to get a nosebleed.

noa unconsciously says yes to every question you ask of him. he'd be giving bastard münchen a hard time (and denying isagi's requests) but then immediately once you come over, he's automatically acquiescing to everything you say. the rest of the team is low-key shocked you can win him over so easily. when they confront him about it, he just shrugs and goes "y/n is always right."

kurona's entire existence is attractive. he's just perfect. nothing is ever wrong with him. will let you check out his shark teeth and lightly pokes your finger to leave an imprint. hopefully you'll always remember him that way. he's also quiet so he will listen to everything you say and give ample weight to your words.

sae is my baby girl so he gets a whole section dedicated to himself:

absentmindedly plays with your hair. when you're sleeping in his lap, he'll gently run his fingers along your scalp. sometimes in the morning when you're sitting up on the edge of your bed to do your makeup, he'll come up from behind you and brush back your hair. might also press a kiss to the back of your neck.

helps you put on your face mask. when he's shopping, he will buy you lotion along with his own skincare products. says that it was just a convenient store run but you know he personally made sure to get you the best quality ones.

this is canon because i said so: when he gets out of the shower, he slings the towel over his neck or his shoulder. he also involuntarily flexes his biceps when he bends down to grab something. has the world's most defined deltoids.

when you're stuck in large crowds at the airport, he puts his hand in your back pocket to keep you two from getting separated. if the TSA pat-down is anywhere too personal for his liking, he will openly glare at the officer once you've passed the security checkpoint.

bonus point: when you two brush your teeth early in the morning, he has that little bed head where his shorn-off bangs stick up in cute little tufts here and there. will have a dead look on his face, but his eyes soften when he catches your gaze through the mirror.

[cheonstapes]

Nothing in my mind but nerd! Miguel and titties.

I'm going back to sleep.

miguel o’hara stars in… ‘YOUR BOOBS LOOK HEAVY, LET ME HOLD ‘EM FOR YOU” ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ

a/n ~ i am so downbad for nerd miguel, what the fuck. titties, titties, titties, titties, rocking everywhere! thank you nonnie!!!! love you !! creds to @nymphomatique 💗

summary; you let miguel sleep over for the first time, and it definitely won’t be the last.

wc; 1.3k+

pairings; nerd!miguel x fem!reader

cw; SMUT!!, titties, body worship basically, switch!miguel, switch!reader, reader has pierced nipples, spanking, anal play, slapping, anal fingering, breeding kink/impregnation kink, cumming in pants, cumming kinda untouched?, biting, dry humping, they’re in love idc, nawt proofread - why did this take me like a week

miguel had been such a good boy for you, making sure you passed all your exams for this semester - you decided that he deserved a little treat

you invited him over one weekend to your dorm, telling him he was allowed to sleep over

he’s never moved faster with the way he packed up his bag and ran to your dorm which is on the other side of the campus

when he got there he was all sweaty n panting heavy, it was a little pathetic how eager he was but you let him in, making sure he went a took a shower asap

to be honest, you didn’t expect it to be hard for you to keep your hands to yourself, especially when your little boytoy is walking around your dorm in that combo - grey sweats and a tight wife beater, you can even see the outline of his abs

he followed you around like a lost puppy, it was cute at least. he couldn’t go two seconds without latching onto you in some way

he was just so excited! getting to spend time with his not-yet-but-almost girlfriend, seeing you in all your natural glory. you thought you had it bad? try hiding a hard-on whilst the woman of your dreams is walking around in booty shorts and a braless cami

speaking of that, miguel could just about make out your puffy, little, nipples through the fabric of your thin shirt - hello kitty barbells piercing your nipples

fuck, he was hard. and those sweats he was wearing weren’t making it any less obvious

miguel loves your tits. period. kneading the soft flesh, sucking on then, biting them. sometimes, whenever he cums inside, he imagines them filled up with milk - he would do anything to get you knocked up

you knew how horny he was, you could be wearing a trash bag and he’d still be as smitten for you as he is every second

so you made a decision - you told him to sleep on the floor.

you almost felt bad, almost

he looked like a kicked puppy, your 6’9 almost-boyfriend pouting like a child

i mean, you gave him a pillow and a blanket at least - plus, you have heated floors. it’s not that bad

he slept right on the side of your bed, making sure to face you directly so he could watch you sleep (not in a creepy way, he just loves you T^T)

you even made sure you were hanging just a little bit over the edge of your bed, an arm hanging over the side - a silent invitation for him to hold your hand

he was sleeping fine for a good while, hands still laced tightly with yours - but he was getting restless not touching you for so long

he stood up, as quietly as his huge ass feet would let him, walking round to the other side of the bed and sliding in

it creaked loudly but you were fast asleep anyway, so he moved closer

he wrapped a beefy arm around your middle, hand coming to rest on your chest

oh. yeah, your tits.

now he was hard again

he pressed himself against you, completely spooning you, large hands sliding under your cami and groping your tits

you weren’t an idiot though, you knew this was gonna happen - having calculated every possibility before he came. you would rather die than admit you were a bit nervous about him sleeping over too

you purposely wore the cami cause you knew it would rile him up, n he always took such good care of his mommy’s pretty tits

you turned to look at him, smiling teasingly - “why’re you in my bed, hm?”

—————————————————————————————————

miguel felt like he was in deep shit, he knew how easily you could flip on him despite that pretty smile. he immediately retracted his hand, stammering as he tried to sit up. “s-sorry, i just missed you. i…i couldn’t sleep, ‘n you just look so gorgeous when you sleep and i couldn’t help myself-“ god, he always talks so much. with a tight grip on his bicep, you drag him back down to the bed, pushing him down on the plush pillows as you straddle his waist.

he was so pretty beneath you. glasses laid somewhere on the floor, curly hairs framing his face. his hands gripped your ass, whining quietly as he ground up against you. “mommy…” you placed your hands on his chest, keeping him pinned to the bed as you leaned forward. he felt like he couldn’t breathe, your tits were resting just above his face, hard nipples grazing his lips. yeah, he was definitely gonna fuck a baby into you one day.

his hands moved up to your hips, squeezing the flesh before he placed a hand on your upper back pulling you down completely. miguel’s tongue snaked out to lick at your hard nipples, the sensation of the cold barbells on his tongue making his hips jerk up against the crotch of your tight shorts. “shit...when d’you get them pierced?”

you rolled your eyes, lifting up your shirt and grabbing the back of his head - pushing his mouth to your tit, grinding salaciously against his clothed cock. “none of your fuckin’ business. if you wanna suck on my tits, then shut up and suck.” you didn’t have to tell him twice.

he sucked hard, unable to resist imagining them filled up with milk, all swollen and heavy, you round with his kid- SMACK. his head whipped to the side, lips slipping off your spit-soaked nipple as he stared up at you in shock. his cheek was stinging, but his cock was straining even harder against the fabric, twitching as his face thrummed with pain. “stop thinkin’, and suck harder. you should even be grateful i’m lettin’ you sleep here, so worship mommy’s tits like you mean it.”

miguel grasped your ass once again, large hands digging into the flesh as he caressed your soft skin through your skimpy shorts, sneakily pulling the waistband down as he ran his fingers down to your cunt. ‘course you were wet, slick staining his sweats. he collected some on his fingers, dragging it back up to your puckered hole, thrusting two wet fingers inside as other hand controls your movements.

“f-fuck, wait, you dickhead.” he continued to suckle on your breasts, flicking and teasing your nipples, tugging on the barbell’s softly as his fingers sped up. your body was quivering in pleasure, his free hand spanking your ass occasionally whenever you would pull yourself away from his mouth - massaging the reddened flesh soothingly afterwards.

his mouth and tongue were downright sinful. the sensation racking over your whole body as your orgasm steadily approached, the swirling fire in your lower belly lighting up. you weren’t the only one, though. miguel was hardly keeping himself together, thick thighs trembling as he tried to keep himself from spilling out his cum in his boxers, the tip of his cock peeking out of his waistband. all he wanted to do was see you writhe in pleasure, see that beautiful face of yours glowing in ecstasy after your release.

you would always let out this adorable, whiny moan when you were close, lips parting, small breathy pants - he knew you better than he knew himself. he was more motivated than ever, fingers moving a bruising speed, tongue relentless. he tugged on your piercing hard, a hand coming to rub your engorged clit through your thong. “m-miguelll - shit, baby - ugh.” creamy liquid coated your panties, not your cum - but his. the red tip spurting out thick loads all over his stomach, the sticky mess tangling with his happy trail ‘n pooling in his navel.

“t-thank…fuck- thank you, mommy.”

you pushed him back to the floor, curling up in the blankets - cheeks heating up as you muttered. “yeah, whatever. shut the fuck up and go to sleep.”

“goodnight, sleep well p-pretty.”

“…night, miguel.”

yeah, you were falling for him - hard.

- my titties are small but he’d hold them like they weighed the world

[lalalunel]

Game Movie Night

lowkey.. based on this twt link .... it had to be done i fear

wc: 1406

cw: leon and reader are perpetually horny, lil tit gropping, dry humping, lil overstimulation, cum-stained clothes (gross)

enjoy?

Movie night never just ends when the movie does, no matter how much you and Leon say it will. 

Cuddled up with a bowl of popcorn and other various snacks and your drink of choice, you two get through the first two movies with little to no interruption. But sitting still so close has never been a good idea for you two. The same couple who could barely keep from sucking each other’s faces off after only being apart for 2 hours. 

It starts with an innocent kiss against your temple from Leon, his hand on your waist drifting to your hip and then just a bit lower, your hand suddenly resting comfortably on his thigh. It starts off innocent, yet it never stays that way for long.

You’re halfway through the third movie when you feel Leon’s thigh shift beneath your hand. It’s a sudden shift forward so he can lean back, that ends with your hand just shy of the.. tent in his pants. Well that wasn’t there before. 

Your eyes trail from his very apparent hard-on to his face. He’s staring forward at the TV as if nothing was amiss, but you notice the unmistakable red hue that graces his ears, the way he bites the inside of his cheek. You know him. 

You decide to play along if he wants to play the ‘I'm hard for you but I'm not going to show it because it's movie night’ game. You’re so damn good at that game, so it's no skin off your back as you slide your hand to rest completely over the tent in his pants, palming him almost as you snuggle comfortably into his side and ‘watch’ the movie. 

You know your touch has an effect on him from the way he stiffens, his grip on your hip flexing. You can see Leon look down at you out of the corner of your eye, yet you pay the attention no mind. This is a game of playing it cool, isn’t it? 

Leon catches on to what you’re getting at pretty quickly and decides he won’t be shown up in a game he started. His hand, which had been resting basically on your ass before, slides up. He slips his hand under your arm and your shirt to cup your left tit. Maybe that affected him more than you though. 

You weren’t wearing a bra. Of course you weren’t wearing a bra, you were in your own place and comfortable watching a movie with your boyfriend. It made sense, but god did it make him twitch in his boxers all the same to feel it hand first- first hand. Oops. Same thing. 

He isn’t shy about it as he tenderly massages the soft mound, his thumb brushing over your nipple over and over until it hardens under his ministrations. It brings him a different sense of pride when you tense, relax, and let out a string of curses under your breath, trying hard to act like it didn’t feel as good as it did. 

You return his groping by fully palming your hand against his dick, feeling the outline of his length through his sweatpants. His grip on you flexes and he swears softly as his eyes slip shut for a beat. You’re suddenly struck by a realization that makes this all seem really stupid. 

You both don’t even know (or care about) what movie you’re watching, and you’re both really horny. What does it matter if you get a little (or a lot more than a little) touchy?

Leon seems to be struck by the same realization as he mutters a ‘fuck this’ and loosens his grip on your tit, instead hooking a hand under your thigh to pull you onto his lap. He wastes absolutely no time in grinding you down against his hard on, pulling a moan from you and him as he nudges firmly against your clit through your thin shorts from the motion. 

He repeats the motions over and over again sharply, swearing as he tips his head back against the couch and bites his lip, feeling dizzy from the pleasure. His fingers dig into your hips, surely leaving his hand print in the form of bruises from how tightly he’s holding on to you. 

You can’t bring yourself to care about the pain when everytime he pulls your hips, he rocks his own up against you, giving you the friction you wanted in large enough doses to make everything seem like nothing. The dull ache is a little added bonus if you really think about it anyway.

The friction, while good for a while, just isn’t enough though. Feeling Leon through his sweatpants and your shorts, while so damn good, just isn’t enough. 

Leon sure seemed to feel the same way when he’s reluctantly lifting your hips away from his and working your shorts off your legs. It’s clumsy, and you can’t stop yourself from giggling when he mutters about how you should never wear clothes again if it takes this much effort to take off, but he does eventually get the stupid shorts off. He’s met with the delightful reward of seeing you in your panties, and he has to fight the urge to come in his boxers when he catches sight of the wet patch that graced the front of them.

He’s all caught up in admiring the sight (and thinking about what you taste like) when he feels you tugging at his sweats, tugging down the waistband to expose his boxers. If you couldn’t straight up bounce on his cock (mainly because you’re both a little too lazy at the moment), at least you could grind on each other with minimal clothing. 

Nothing like a little dry humping to spice up movie night, right? 

He eagerly leans back as he pulls your hips down against his again, hissing softly when he pulls you down in that same grinding motion from before and you both buck in response. Fuck, just a few layers less and it feels like heaven. 

Over and over and over and over again, he drags your hips in a hard roll against his stiff cock, driven utterly insane by how good it feels and how sweet you sound moaning in pleasure, leaning in towards him so the head of his cock nudges more consistently against your clit, pulling even more moans from your lips and his.

His mind feels blank as his grip tightens on you, pulling you faster against him as a pit forms deep in his stomach. He can’t take it. His boxers grow damp from all the friction with your soaked panties, though he’s sure his precum is also the source of the wetness. Lube source aside, It’s getting harder and harder for either of you to resist the burning heat flooding your stomachs. 

You’re the first to cave to the pressure, head dropping forward against Leon’s shoulder as your body tenses, your thighs shaking lightly as your body throbs. A string of curses follow your orgasm as Leon keeps your hips in motion against him. 

He mutters a low string of praise against your ear, something along the lines of ‘fuck, you feel so good baby’ and ‘m so close, gonna come so hard’. It all melts together in your mind when he’s still rutting against your throbbing and aching clit, overstimulating you as he chases his own orgasm using your body. 

He doesn’t hold you pleasure-hostage for much longer when he’s suddenly bucking up sharply against you, groaning lowly as his cock throbs and twitches in his boxers as he finishes and he finally lets you still. 

You spend just a moment laying against each other, catching your breath and trying to let the fog pass from your minds. The forgotten movie fills the silence along with your breathing, a sudden burst of clown music jolting you from the post-coital haze and making you laugh a little.

Leon can’t help cracking a smile as well, though the moment of amusement was cut short when you shifted and immediately reminded both you and him of the sticky mess you now had to attend to. Cold, cum-stained panties/boxers are a sensory nightmare, and a shower is in the cards for you both. Showering together to fix the mess wouldn’t hurt..

Made the mess together, might as well clean up in the shower together too, right?

~~~

actually made with re4 Leon in mind for once (maybe also DI leon tho...)

[plumiechim]

Fuck the pain out [JJK] [m]

PAIRING: Jungkook x female reader

GENRE: Halloween party, smut, angst if you consider, pwp

WARNING: masked shit (ghostface), he is masked, unprotected sex, oc is js sad, he likes her, blowjob, lil fluff talk and blah blah

SUMMARY: Maybe ghostface will fuck your sadness away tonight.

W.C: 1.3k

A/N : Halloween and yet no man masked as ghostface to fuck me so why not write about it. Enjoy!

I was so broken by that point I didn't even give a fuck who the man kissing my neck was. He told me he'll make me feel good, treat me good tonight, maybe help me forget that I'm a fucking shattered piece of soul.

I can't even tell how he looks because his face is concealed by an intimidating mask. "I'm ghostface." was how he'd introduced himself to me while I was alone by myself smoking a joint at this halloween party my friends brought me to.

Having to see a person you've always loved deep down in your heart for years with another girl feels like shit even though I know I have no right to feel that way.

We're in the dark, now that his mask is off, I can't really see his face but I can feel the jewel on his lip momentarily graze my neck-

Wait.

I know who that jewel belongs to.

My eyes shoot open and my hands slide to his shoulders. I croaked, "Are you sure you wanna-." His lips shut me off before I speak any further.

A soft whimper leaves my mouth as his lips delve deeper into my mouth, "So broken, so needy." His lips graze against mine. "It's okay baby, I'll make you forget him tonight."

The way he assured me, gosh. I softly slipped my hands cupping the girth of his neck, I could feel him looking at me. I took my lips down his jaw as I slipped my palm to the back of his head and trailed kisses up to the corner of his lips.

"Kiss me." His whispers were all that I needed to press my lips against his. His hand roughly grabbed me by my neck as he hungrily devoured my lips.

His passionate kiss kept me busy as he slowly lowered us onto the mattress, him nestled between my legs as he trailed kisses from my lips to my chin, my jaw down to my cleavage.

"You need someone to worship you." His murmur tickles my skin and I suck in a sharp breath. "Understand you." A stinging sensation of his teeth slightly nipping on my skin, yet I love it. "Validate you." He continues his abuse on my skin. "Love you." Maybe its the joint that's heightening my senses and making me extremely sensitive to everything I was feeling. I wanted him. Bad. "You need commitment." He tugs onto my pants.

Oh my.

I push him off of me as he stands at the edge of the bed. Even though I can't really see I can sense him. I can sense him looking at me. A little surprised, confused at the same time. I can feel his chest raising and falling rhythmically with his loud erratic breaths.

I undid the buttons of his shirt one by one ascending, while his fingers tangled and played with my hair.

It was as if he was sculpted, body so perfect, muscles in right places. My tongue brushed over his abs leaving wet kisses as I went lower and tugged on the band of his Calvin Kleins.

As I pulled down his boxers, I could feel him tightening his grip on my locks. I get off the bed down on my knees as I spit on his cock and sensually lick the tip then proceed to slowly put him in my mouth.

His tatted arm fists my hair. His girth barely fitting into my mouth, but I still make an attempt to bob my head. His moans were so pretty, so hot, made me wanna go deeper and harder. The vibrations of his vocalization revert to the back of my throat.

I'm loving the fact that I'm making him feel good. I slowly get used to his girth and start working my mouth on him in all the ways I can. The way he's tugging on my hair kinda stings but that is something I can easily overlook.

"Fuck, you're so good." I can feel my own arousal spasming through my insides as i can feel him twitching in my mouth. "I'm not gonna last much." He moans as he pulls out of my mouth and grabs my hair, not by extreme but strong enough to yank me to the bed. He crawls, spreading my legs open and resting between my thighs.

I let out a small whimper as my back meets the surface of the mattress. He wastes' no time in ripping me off of my clothes and throwing them across the room. "I'm not going soft on you." He whispers as his thumb plays with my lower lip. I gently wrap my lips around his finger and flick it out. "I don't want that either." I breathe out.

"Baby, I wanna fuck you mad. Like an animal."

"You better do."

I physically jerk at the feeling of his fingers grazing my glistening cunt. I bite my lips as he slides his hand up my folds and slowly inserts his finger in me.

He goes slow at first but then shows no mercy, plunging his fingers in and out of me. His lips press against mine as he swallows my moans.

"I want you. Please." I breathe out and that's all he needed to pull his fingers out of me and reach out for the piece of latex.

I stop him. "I want you raw in me."

"If you do that then I can't fucking pull out-"

"I want you to not." I cut him off and I can see his silhouette, his neck cranking sideways putting on the mask he possessed, and I feel his girth in me and his tatted arm presses me down to the pillow by my neck.

"Baby you feel so good." He reaches down to kiss my thigh from under the mask as he starts with his thrusts.

Divine is what I would like to call this feeling. He felt so good I couldn't help but let out obscene noises. He felt divine. His moans, his breath, his thrusts, him inside me. It was all so hot.

My back arched as his thrusts got insanely deep and hard. His grip on my neck tightens and I feel our arousal dripping down my thighs.

"Mine." he grunts. "You're mine."

This was unusual for me. Cumming so fast like this. But I could already feel the tightening sensation and I can no longer assure that I am sane. My eyes roll to the back of my head as I take full pleasure of the feeling of him inside me, shaking vigorously underneath him syncing with his animalistic thrusts. As he leans down, I lift his mask a little to let him peck my neck. I can see veins popping on his neck, from the illumination from the window. His face and neck flushed pink.

"Baby you gonna cum?" I nod. He slows down. I whimper. "I need words, love." He smirks on my skin. "I'm gonna cum." I blurt out, my hips desperately trying to create some sort of stimulation.

But my pathetic attempt fails as he grabs my hips, restoring his thrusts. And I no longer am able to hold it in me. I unfold shaking under him, clenching hard. "Yeah baby, come all over my cock." He coos, his thrusts again going gentle.

But that was short lasted as he started chasing his own orgasm. Overstimulating but I loved the way he was desperately snapping his hips against mine. "Fuck if you clench on me like this- fuck." and with the hottest moan, he cums in me. His mask now off of him, hot sweaty body pressed against mine, his wet strands tickling my breasts. and his lips on my skin.

He takes a few minutes to regain his breath. "So you staying for the night or not." He says as he turns on the dim lamp from the nightstand.

His expression soon turns into a slight disappointment seeing the uncertainty in my face.