#and cumming all over the bed underneath him.

[push-the-heartbrake]

𝙄 𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝘽𝙚 𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨 // 𝙎.𝙍

Summary: “Tell me what you’d like for us to do together.” — or the one where Spencer finds in himself his first serious relationship and must navigate intimacy for the first time too.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader (she/her)

Word count: 14.2k

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI ♡ Virgin!Spencer, dry humping, Spencer cums in his pants bc why not, fingering (f! receiving), some insecurities and sex used as a coping mechanism mentioned but otherwise very fluffy.

A/N: Happy (belated) Valentine! Set in the same universe as THIS, so go read that first if you want to know more about how they met and their dynamic. English is not my first language and please tell me what you think? That's all for now ♡

The early morning light seeped through the heavy curtains—thick and dark, softening the edges of the dawn—yet still, the light found its way, spilling in through the gaps, casting pale, golden shadows across the unmade bed. You stirred beneath the weight of the blanket, tangled around your bare legs, drifting in that fragile space between slumber and waking. The air was cold—the kind of raw, unrelenting cold only January could bring—lingering in the room, palpable even beneath the warmth of the sheets.

Sheets. They were Spencer’s dark green sheets. 

You stretched, finally waking up. The room was filled with nothing but the low hum of the radiator and the audible breaths from the man beside you. The world outside is still asleep. Soon, car engines would rumble to life, footsteps would slap against wet pavement, and the sky would brighten into daylight. But for now, your tired eyes had nothing else to focus on but his steady breathing. 

You shifted onto your side, the mattress dipping slightly beneath your weight. Spencer was lying there, still soundly asleep. His hair was a mess as it fell over his forehead, lips parted with the slow rhythm of his breath. Your heart did a… thing—an erratic, fluttering thing that Spencer would probably have a precise physiological explanation for. To you, it was just nerve-wracking. You wanted to reach out, to brush the hair from his face, to trace the line of his jaw, to simply exist closer. Alas, a small space remained between you, as if you’d drifted apart in the night. Cuddling wasn’t off-limits, but whatever was unfolding between you two was still new. 

So new that it was scary for you both.

New in the sense that touches didn’t come instinctively, that words didn’t fall from your lips without second-guessing yourself—that every. single. advance. felt like a make-or-break moment. 

Like—whoops—you kissed him too hard, too long, and now he was going to think that all you wanted was to sleep with him. 

You didn’t. Or you did, but it wasn’t why you liked him. 

You liked that he was smart, that he could ramble on for hours just like you could—except he usually made more sense. You liked that he was sensitive, that it felt like you could tell him anything (even though you never did). You liked that he was observant, that he noticed the small things most people overlooked. Like how he’d bring you dinner from your favorite restaurant during your evening shifts at the library. How he’d carry your bag on the way home because bringing work home with you meant lugging around a fuck-ton of books. How he knew you liked honey in your tea but couldn’t stand when it was substituted with sugar. The little things.

That he was stupidly attractive and that you had raging hormones inside of you truly came second to all of that. 

Right on cue, Spencer’s eyes fluttered open, pulling you from your train of thought. With tired movements, he stirred around in bed, finally finding you to look at. 

Your heart clenched at the sight of him. 

“Your hair is getting long, Spence,” you mumbled, your voice gruff from not having spoken yet today. 

Spencer’s lips pressed together in a small, sleepy frown as he blinked at you in slow, uncoordinated intervals. His hand moved from underneath the blanket to softly tug backwards at the hair that hung before his eyes. 

He’d gone from being terrified of you seeing him shirtless to almost always sleeping without wearing anything on his upper body. You heard yourself sigh at the view of his exposed neck and collarbones as the covers slipped down. His skin looked so soft. You knew that it was. Yet it wasn’t just yours to touch. You didn’t dare to. 

Flipping onto your stomach, you smushed your face into the pillow, breathing in the scent of the laundry detergent he used. A simple, clean, and understated scent that went up your nostrils and clouded your brain like it was a fucking drug. 

You saw in your periphery how Spencer rested his hand next to your face on the mattress, casually with his palm flat against it. It almost tickled in your fingers, wanting to reach out and touch him. 

A sound slipped from him, something between a sigh and a groan, low and strained. He shifted, but not closer. His hand twitched against the mattress, fingers flexing once before going still. Freezing, almost.

Your brows furrowed. “Why do you look so uncomfortable?” 

“No, uhm—” 

You pushed up slightly, watching his expression. “Spencer, is something wrong?” 

“Stop talking, please,” he muttered, eyes squeezed shut.

You blinked at his sudden plea, concern creeping in just as he bolted upright, sheets falling from his body and landing messily on the bed again. 

“I need to go to the bathroom,” he announced. 

You propped yourself up on your elbows, brows drawing together. “That’s all?” 

Spencer didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his hand shot out, grabbing his pillow with a clumsy sort of urgency. He held it in front of himself, almost like a shield.

Your gaze flickered between him and the pillow, realization hitting like a slow burn. “You’re taking your pillow to the bathroom—oh!”

Heat flooded your face as the truth settled. A grin threatened to pull at your lips, but you bit down on it, trying to keep your expression neutral. Spencer’s back went impossibly straighter, his grip on the pillow tightening like it had betrayed him. You fought the urge to tease him. His entire body radiated embarrassment, his cheeks a deep shade of red, and for all the things Spencer was—brilliant, logical, analytical—he was also so deeply, painfully shy about certain things.

Morning wood was a normal phenomenon. You knew that Spencer knew that. In a weird way, you felt a sense of pride because of it. It had happened while he was sleeping next to you. Sure, it was an involuntary response many times. But Spencer had also literally asked you to stop talking because you affected him. Didn’t make it any less mortifying for him, though. 

“Spencer, you don’t have to be embarrassed,” you said gently.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he all but rushed into the bathroom, shutting the door with a sharp, definitive click.

You exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking your head, falling back onto the mattress. “Did you just lock the door?” 

From inside the bathroom, you could hear rattling. His voice came, muffled but unmistakably miserable. “Can we please forget that this ever happened?” 

“I mean, yeah we could do that. Orwe could talk about it like adults.” 

Silence.

Your lips formed into a grin.

“Are you at least taking care of it in there?” 

More silence.

Then, finally, a defeated, “I’m—I’m gonna wait it out.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled up, rolling onto your side to cuddle back into the covers. “Suit yourself.”

A few minutes passed before the door creaked open again. Spencer hesitated in the hallway outside his bedroom, looking both exhausted and like he wanted to disappear. His face was still a little pink, his hair a mess from sleep and, presumably, from pressing his forehead against the cool tile of the bathroom wall. The pillow was no longer needed as a shield. No imprint could be seen through the flannel of his pajama pants, because of course, you looked. 

You tilted your head, your smile softening. “Over now?” 

“I need to get to work,” he said, rubbing a hand over his face. “But we’ll talk about it later, okay?”

You sat up fully, resting against the headboard, watching as he moved toward his dresser, already reaching for a change of clothes. “You’ll get a case and be gone for a week,” you pointed out. “I know how this works.”

His hands stilled for a moment.

“So,” you continued, “can I talk while you get ready?”

Spencer hesitated, then gave a slow nod. He kept his focus on his dresser as he changed out his sleepwear for his everyday attire. 

You took a breath. “I know that we’ve… experienced different things—” 

“I haven’t experienced anything,” Spencer cut you off. 

“You made out with Lila Archer in a pool. That’s something.” 

He huffed, throwing you a look over his shoulder. 

“Okay. Low blow. I’m sorry for that.” 

One drunken night out with the team (well, sober for you and Spencer), and you had found out so many things about Spencer that he probably would’ve never told you himself. 

You sort of knew to not make fun of him because of his lack of experience, but you also had this thing where your brain just said the first thing it could think of in every goddamned situation. It got you in trouble, but in this case it almost felt necessary to show him how casual a conversation about intimacy could be. 

You kicked the covers off of your legs and sat on the edge of the bed before you continued talking. “We’ve lived different lives, done different things, but if we want to figure us out together, then we have to talk about the sexual stuff too—” 

“But I don’t know how,” Spencer pointed out, walking around the room to face you, standing so close but not close enough. A few inches forward and his legs would be touching yours. 

You sighed. “I’m not saying we do it all right now. I guess I’m more asking how you feel about it. If you can explain it without running off to hide the next time you wake up with a boner?”  

Spencer’s face twisted at your direct use of words, and you could easily spot it. All for being casual… when your crude words might actually do more harm than good. 

He sat down next to you, still half-dressed with a button-up shirt undone and his tie in a tight grip in his hand. 

“I don’t take opportunities,” he simply stated. 

You frowned in confusion. “Yeah, you do.” 

He hadn’t reached his level of success without recognizing opportunities and pursuing them. His intellect alone wouldn’t have guaranteed anything. He had to view the world as something to learn from, to make something good or at least knowledgeable from it, which he had in your eyes.  

“No,” he corrected, turning slightly. “I mean, like social ones. I don’t put myself out there. And now I’m a grown man with no experience. That feels wrong.”

“Wrong in what way?” 

Spencer’s jaw clenched as he swallowed, his gaze dropping to where your hands rested in your lap. He exhaled, his fingers curling against his palm. “It feels like I should’ve just gotten drunk in college and gotten it over with.”

A surprised snort came from you before you could stop it. “Spencer, you were a child when you went to college.”

He huffed out a quiet laugh. “Yeah,” he admitted, “the first time.”

You shook your head, smile lingering. “Well, you still shouldn’t have done anything you weren’t comfortable with. And if you aren’t comfortable now either, that’s fine. But please, talk to me about it before you push me away.”

Spencer’s fingers flexed once before he reached for your hand, threading his fingers through yours. You liked when he was the one to initiate contact because that meant you weren’t crossing any of his boundaries. 

“I don’t want to push you away. I’ve just never felt this way before,” he murmured, voice hesitant. His grip on your hand tightened slightly. “And it scares me. Honestly. But the idea of never moving past this, of never trying for something more… that scares me even more.”

You squeezed his hand in return. 

“Okay. That’s good for me to know. We can work with that.” 

You hadn’t realized how tense the mood was until you saw Spencer visibly relax at your words, his shoulders slouching down as he let go of your hand to start buttoning his shirt. 

“I guess I should get ready too,” you murmured. 

Before your legs could even hit the floor, Spencer’s palm pressed against your bare thigh, his touch gentle but firm, halting you in place.

“You know you don’t have to leave just because I am,” he said. His gaze, soft and lingering, traced over your face. “You’re allowed to stay. Sleep some more. You’re working the night shift, right?” 

You hummed in confirmation, only focused on the warmth from his hand spreading through to your skin, creating a ball of fire in your stomach. Your little sleep shorts did nothing to cover the skin he was touching. He probably wasn’t even aware of how he was affecting you, seeing the contact as simply innocent. 

“Mhm, so stay,” he urged. “There’s stuff in the fridge to make breakfast.”

Spencer shifted, scanning the dimly lit room until he spotted his bag on the floor. Leaning over the side of the bed, he rummaged through it before pulling out his keys. With a small jingle, he dangled them in front of you.

“I’ll leave you my home keys. Lock when you leave and throw them in my mail slot.” 

Your fingers closed around them, the metal cool against your palm. He had a little keychain with the Las Vegas welcome sign. That the sweetest man you’d ever met was from Sin City was still a juxtaposition you almost couldn’t believe. 

“Spence?”  

He tilted his head, looking at you musingly. 

You smiled, your fingers treading to tug lightly on the sleeve of his shirt. 

“Kiss me before you go.” 

For a second, he just sat there. 

Then, slowly, the bed dipped as he braced himself against the mattress, his palm planting next to your waist. His nose brushed yours, and the warmth of his breath ghosted against your lips. There was a pause—a heartbeat—before he closed the space between you.

He kissed you, soft and hesitant at first. 

If you asked Spencer, he probably knew the exact amount of kisses you’d shared. Or he could at least calculate some sort of estimated number. You just knew that it was still a new, almost paralyzing feeling for you. You couldn’t even begin to fathom the nerves that he was feeling. 

But when you kissed him back with more intent, when your fingers curled lightly into the fabric of his shirt, you felt it. The way he melted, just a little.

When he pulled back, his forehead lingered against yours, breath unsteady.

Neither of you spoke. You didn’t need to.

Then, with a reluctant sigh, he straightened, stepping back to finish getting ready. You crawled back beneath the covers, letting your head hit the pillow once again. 

You watched him with quiet amusement as he pulled on a sweater, smoothing it down with precise, almost methodical movements. His hands moved quickly—buttoning his cuffs, slipping on his watch—but there was an unspoken hesitation in the air, something that made him pause every so often. 

“You’re staring,” you pointed out. 

He huffed a small breath through his nose, shaking his head as he picked up his bag. “I’m… acknowledging.”

You raised a brow. “Acknowledging what?”

Spencer didn’t answer. He simply smiled and swung the strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder, adjusting it absently before making his way to the front door. Just as his fingers curled around the handle, he hesitated.

And then, slowly, he turned back.

You were still in his bed, tangled in the sheets, looking entirely at home. He almost wanted to laugh at how it made him feel, seeing your bare foot stick out or how your hair was a little messy from sleep. 

Spencer wished he understood why his heart did a… thing every time he looked at you. The thing, where it felt like it was doing somersaults around in his ribcage. 

He swallowed, forcing himself to speak. “I don’t do this,” he admitted. “I don’t casually wake up with someone and… feel okay about leaving.”

You smiled, smushing your cheek against the pillow. “You’re not leaving. You’re going to work.” 

“You don’t mind me rushing out?” 

“I love having a big bed all to myself. Go to work, genius. I’m a phone call away.”

Spencer’s grip on his bedroom door tightened before he finally turned to leave. He stepped into the hallway but couldn’t help himself—one last glance. One last look at you in his bed, at the imprint he had left beside you, at the way you had settled into his space so effortlessly.

As he walked to the train station, a pep in his step, he had the time to reflect on what had actually happened this morning and how it was something that he had never actually experienced before. 

Someone else seeing him aroused. 

And his stupid inability to talk about sex. Well, he’d had to do it for a few different cases. But that was objective facts about the human psyche and sexuality as a concept. This was as subjective as it could be. It was literally about his own… penis. 

His inability to have sex was an even worse subject for him to think about. Inability was maybe the wrong word. Was it more about how he hadn’t wanted to? 

You were right, though. He hadn’t seen the point in doing it in college, not because he was emotionless and only focused on his studies and career, but because if he had done it, it wouldn’t have been meaningful. He needed sex to be meaningful to serve the purpose he felt like it would have in his life. 

It’d be pointless for him to have pointless sex. That was clear, and still true. 

But then you’d stormed into his life with your unapologetic way of being—your sharp wit and easy laughter. You had your own layers he had yet to peel back, but it didn’t scare him as much as it did excite him to know you that way. You, with your warmth and your patience, with the way you made him feel wanted without expectation, like he wasn’t some puzzle missing too many pieces to be worth solving.

And you were the furthest thing from pointless to him. Intimacy with you didn’t feel like something to analyze or rationalize. It felt like something to want.

Life felt futile without a sense of contribution, without the feeling that his experiences grew with him rather than passing by like scenery outside the window of a bus. The people around him changed, but he remained the same as he had been at age fifteen—only more rugged, more worn-out, and with a face that now bore the knowledge of what Dilaudid did to the body. He couldn’t let that stay the same anymore. He had to learn to see it differently.

Fuck, he needed to figure this out.

⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚ ⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚ ⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚ ⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚

Spencer turned off the engine as he parked, letting the windshield wipers go one more time to take away the last lingering raindrops. It was late in the evening, and the streetlights reflected gold through the windows. He sent you a quick text that he had arrived before stepping out of his car. The cool February air hit him as he adjusted his scarf, his own breath fogging up his glasses that he had to wear when he drove. 

He scanned the street for the house number in the address you had texted him, spotting it quickly. The building itself was a modest townhouse. A little worn down but full of character, with overgrown and leafless rosebushes lining the front of it. The windows of your friend’s apartment glowed warmly against the night, the silhouettes of moving figures behind sheer curtains. He could hear muffled voices, occasional bursts of laughter, and the faint notes of an indie song playing scratchily from a speaker. He recognized it as something you’d listen to, but nothing more distinct than that. 

He hesitated near the entrance, slowly walking up the stairs to the front door, taking in the view showing through the curtains. 

Girls' night. Spencer was no stranger to the concept. He and Morgan had been turned down plenty of times when they’d tried to tag along with the women of the BAU after work. He’d also seen them the next day—giggly, whispering, exchanging knowing looks about whatever had happened. He wondered if you’d be the same. Would you come back all giggly, or did girls' night mean something different depending on the group? He didn’t know your friends, after all.

A second later, the door swung open, and there you were—stepping out into the night, huddled in your coat. You didn’t notice him right away, busy adjusting your bag over your shoulder as you waved something off behind you, closing the door with a thud. 

Something being one of your friends that Spencer could just about see a sliver of. 

Turning around, he watched as you almost got scared of his presence, not expecting him to be standing so close. You lifted your hands to your face in mild shock, and Spencer couldn’t help but let out a little laugh. 

“Red?” he asked, tilting his head in mild curiosity.

Your nails. Newly painted a bright red color. So painting nails was part of girls’ night. For weeks after you started seeing each other, Spencer had quietly wondered how your nails were always so perfectly done. He now knew that one of your friends was training to be a nail technician and would gladly accept anyone whose fingers she could practice on. 

You glanced down at your hands as if just remembering them. “For Valentine’s Day,” you replied matter-of-factly. 

Spencer hummed, taking the opportunity to hold one of your hands in his own. Was he supposed to ask you to be his Valentine? Before he could respond with anything more, the muffled sound of laughter and movement from behind the door stopped him in his tracks. And he watched you shift uncomfortably because of it. 

“Can we walk to the car, now?” you asked, almost dragging him down the entrance stairs, your eyes flickering between the door and where his car was parked. 

“Why are you in such a hurry?” he croaked out, almost immediately clocking what he thought was embarrassment from your side. Down the stairs, he gripped your hand stronger, making you unable to walk further. “Do you not want your friends to see me?” 

The way you instantly turned to face him, eyes wide with disbelief, made something tighten in his chest.

“You really think that?” you asked, voice soft, a little breathless, like the idea alone was absurd. “Spencer, no—it’s the opposite, really.”

He blinked, lips parting slightly, but before he could ask what that meant, you sighed and pointed with your free hand up to the apartment again. “My friends are standing in the window trying to get a look at you.” 

Looking up, the sheer curtains betrayed them. All of them huddled close to the window to see… well, what were they supposed to see?  

“I’ll get a text in approximately 30 seconds where they will guesstimate the size of your penis and how you are in bed.” 

You deadpanned the words. Spencer would never understand how you did it. It didn’t faze you in the slightest, as you moved to get your phone from your coat pocket. 

Spencer choked. “What? But we’ve never—”

Sure enough, your phone buzzed with a new text message. He didn’t get another word in before you read it out loud. 

“Grower, not a shower. 4 inches soft. Probably kinky in a subtle way, like he’ll tie your hands up while asking about your day.” 

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, adjusting his glasses like that would somehow hide the way his flustered blush was spreading up all the way to his ears. He barely managed to form a coherent thought, let alone a response. 

Instead, his brain short-circuited, flashing between two equally mortifying thoughts: (1) The fact that your friends—people he had never even spoken to—were speculating about his sex life. And (2), the fact that you were standing here, repeating it all so casually, without any indication that it embarrassed you in the slightest.

Did they really think that? Did you?

And worse—could they be right?

Because, if he was being honest, Spencer had thought about it. A lot. Maybe more than was healthy. He thought about the way it would feel, the sound you would make. The way he imagined your body to look naked was some sort of fictional image burned into his mind like some old TV screen. Would he like to tie you up? Would that hurt your wrists? 

He had thought about it so much that the idea of it actually happening made him feel like his entire body would shut down.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it?

He was scared that you were so special to him, and that he could never be special enough to you. Because you’d done it all before. Even your friends knew that. To the point where they expected it from you—that your sexual endeavors were common enough that they became a casual topic of conversation. Spencer believed that Morgan might faint if he told him that he’d been thinking of having sex with you, like obsessively thinking. If it did happen, you’d always be special to him. Hell, even if it never happened, you were special enough to probably linger in his mind for decades. To you, it was possible for him to just be another number. A notch in your bedpost. Not that you’d ever describe it like that. He knew that. But still, the premise remained. 

“See?” you said, nudging him lightly, snapping him out of his spiraling thoughts. “We should’ve started walking when I said it because now you’re all embarrassed.”

“I’m not—” he started, but faltered, because clearly, he was. “Could they really guess all that from just looking at me?” 

“I don’t know, you’re the profiler,” you pointed out, trying to drag him closer to the car again, but Spencer stayed rooted. “They’re mostly doing it to mess with me because I refused to share any gossip with them tonight.” 

“Is that what girls’ night means? You just sit around and gossip?” he wondered out loud. 

You snorted, shaking your head. “Oh, like you don’t know the ins and outs of Morgan’s love life?” 

“That’s different,” he argued immediately. “I never ask to know anything, but he tells me anyway.” 

You shot him a pointed look. “And you listen.”

He opened his mouth to counter, but quickly shut it again because, well… you had a point. Instead, he huffed, looking down at the sidewalk as he let you make your way to the car. 

After a beat of silence, he glanced over at you, still holding your hand in his. “But really, do I look like I would… act like that?” 

The hesitation in his tone made you pause, turning your head to take him in properly. He wasn’t just flustered anymore—he was genuinely unsure because he had never even considered how people perceived him in a… sexual manner. 

You exhaled, tilting your head at him. “I don’t know what you want me to say—that you practically have a sign on your forehead saying virgin? Would that be better?” 

“No, no,” he said quickly. “I just…” He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know how to talk about this.”

Your expression softened. “I know that, which is why I wanted us to go immediately.” 

He opened his mouth, grasping for something to say that would make him feel like he had some semblance of control over the situation. “You didn’t have to read that text out loud.” 

“It’s impossible to lie to you. You know that.” 

By the time you both reached the car, Spencer rushed ahead, opening the passenger door for you. It was instinct, something he did without thinking. But when he turned back to see you watching him, something flickered in your expression. 

“I should learn how to talk about it, though.” He cleared his throat. “That’d be useful for when it eventually happens.” 

He watched you smile as he said it. He hinted at it actually happening. That it was something he wanted. 

“We don’t have to hurry,” you assured as you slid into your seat. 

Spencer swallowed hard, moving around to the driver’s side. He slipped into his seat, hands gripping the wheel, eyes stubbornly focused straight ahead as he started driving. He could feel your gaze on him, patient but knowing. 

You knew him. Even after quite a short time. He couldn’t exactly remember the date on which he first saw you at the library. But it had been 36 days since your first kiss on New Year’s Eve. And you knew him.

He didn’t have to hide a single part of himself from you. Because you seemed to like them all. Or, at least, understand them all. From the shy little boy who was too smart for his own good, seeing his mother get sick and his father turn absent—to the messy adult version of him who had struggled with addiction and closeness in any sort of relationship. You understood them all, though the layers. And you liked some of them to the point where it made you visibly affected. And you protected him in ways that he protected himself too. 

Spencer could only hope to get to know you well enough to understand all versions of you. That you’d let him in, even to your darkest corners. Because he liked you so much it hurt, and felt protective over you in a way that wasn’t even comparable to the most helpless of victims he’d encountered. 

“Don’t do that thing with your tongue.” 

That startled him enough to glance at you. “What thing?” 

“Poking the inside of your cheek with it and looking all smug.” 

Spencer blinked, confused. He hadn’t even realized that he was doing anything, completely lost in his own head. “Is it disturbing for you?” 

“No, it’s distracting. You look hot.” 

“Oh.” He blinked, clearly not expecting that answer. “S-should I drive to your place or mine?” 

Smooth segue, Spencer. Really smooth. 

“You’re assuming we’re spending the night together? Awfully presumptuous, Spence,” you said, placing a hand on your chest to mimic being offended. 

Spencer tried to keep his face straight, forcing a serious answer from you. 

“Drive to your place, it’s bigger.” 

“But I’ve never even seen your apartment,” he argued. 

“For good reason,” you muttered. “It’s messy.” 

“I do not care.” 

“Fine, my place it is,” you sighed, telling him where to drive. “But if you’re mean about it, I’m kicking you out.” 

Spencer only nodded. 

He saw you relax into your seat after that, turning the heat down in the car, humming along quietly to whatever was playing the radio. Spencer thought about how he could easily get used to having you next to him, especially in simple moments like this. Picking you up, or coming home from work and seeing you in his space. Or maybe him being in your space. It almost clouded his brain, the easy domesticity. He had to remind himself that he was driving a couple of times. 

And then he thought of it. A joke, really. He could do that sometimes—think of something to say in conversations long after they had ended. Usually it was to save himself from remembering something embarrassing or unfitting that he’d actually said, but this time, he just wanted to make you laugh. 

“It’s more like 5 inches soft, by the way.” 

“Excuse me?” 

You squealed, leaning forward while also staring at him with eyes wide open. Your hand gripped the car door, and Spencer was momentarily scared your nails would scratch the interior. 

He grinned, acting unbothered. “Just thought I’d let you know.”

You exhaled sharply, your hand still gripping the door, trying (and failing) at holding back a giggle. “I’ll deflower you right in this car if you want to.” 

Spencer felt the color drain from his face at the sound of your words. He couldn’t beat you at your own game. That game being dropping the most sexually charged remarks in casual conversation. 

“No?” you teased. “Then stop with the dirty talk.” 

This was going to be a very long short drive. 

.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚ ⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚ ⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚ ⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚

On Valentine’s Day, Spencer found himself at the train station after coming home from a difficult case in Detroit. It had been such a long and simultaneously hurried process that he hadn’t even realized that they were coming back home on Valentine’s Day. Garcia’s homemade pink cupcakes waiting for them at the office had refreshed his mind. 

So, now he stood at the train station in D.C., unsure of whether to go home, to the library, or to your apartment. Mostly he worried about you picking up his phone call, pacing the platform with his phone pressed against his ear. Or maybe he was worried you wouldn’t pick up at all. Your shift had just ended. You should be able to answer. He really should’ve asked you to be his Valentine instead of waiting until the 14th to even think about it, or what if you found it all to be capitalist bullshit anyway—

“Hi Spence! How’s Michigan?”

Your happy voice coming through the speaker in his phone halted his spiraling thoughts. 

“Hi—Uhm, I’m actually home, or at the station. We could wrap up early and not have to spend another night.” 

“Well, that’s good, I guess. Successful case?” you wondered, breathing heavily. He could picture you walking around the library with quick steps, which was what you were doing by the sound of it. 

“Curiosity killed the cat,” Spencer answered. He’d noticed that you were often too curious for your own good. Every time he could tell you details from a case, you regretted it afterwards, not actually wanting to know such gruesome things. “Why does it sound like you’ve just run a marathon?” 

You let out a breathless laugh. “We had a bunch of arts and crafts for the kids today, and they made a whole mess. Glue, glitter, paper scraps everywhere. And I swear, once kids figure out how to use scissors, they think they’re unstoppable.”

A faint smile tugged at Spencer’s lips as he imagined it. You were so good with the kids coming to the activities organized by the library. 

“Sounds chaotic.”

“Oh, it was,” you confirmed. “Somehow, a three-year-old managed to glue his own sleeve to the table, which, honestly, is kind of impressive.”

Spencer chuckled, rubbing at his temple. “Remind me again why you do this voluntarily?”

“Because it’s cute,” you shot back. “And because somebody has to make sure kids don’t leave libraries thinking they’re just boring old book storage units.”

His smile widened, but before he could respond, you hesitated.

“So, uhm…” you started.

Spencer picked up on it immediately. “You’re running late?”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

He glanced at the clock. He hadn’t even made it home yet, and he already knew you were going to exhaust yourself staying behind to clean up. “You know, we don’t have to—”

“But I’ll tell you what,” you interrupted, voice decisive. “Since you’re on my side of town, why don’t you go to my place, and then I’ll show up when I’m done cleaning up?”

Spencer hesitated. He still wasn’t entirely used to the casual intimacy of something as simple as waiting for you at your place. But then again, this—the way you made space for him so effortlessly—was exactly why it had never felt overwhelming.

You didn’t press him for an answer, just kept going, voice slightly distracted like you were already multitasking. “I’ll tell my neighbor to leave my extra set of keys under my doormat right now.”

Spencer nodded before realizing you couldn’t see him. “That’d be great,” he said instead. “I’ll see you later.”

There was a pause, just long enough for him to picture you—probably still standing in the middle of the library, hands on your hips, surveying the mess before sighing and getting back to work.

Then, softer, “Mhm. Buh-bye, Spence.”

The call ended with a quiet click, and for a long moment, Spencer just stood there, staring at his phone.

Being in your apartment alone? Yeah, no. That was weird. 

* * * 

Spencer arrived at your building just as the streetlights flickered on, the city settling into early evening. A bouquet of tulips in his hand, clenched in a tight grip as he made his way up to your level. They were a mixture of red, white, and orange tulips. 

He remembered Garcia once going on a rant about how no woman had red roses as her favorite flower and that men only gave them as gifts as custom and because they hadn’t cared enough to get to know the woman’s actual favorite flower. 

At his quick stop at a flower shop, Spencer had cursed himself for never asking about your favorite flower. But he at least knew he couldn’t buy roses. If not for you, then for the sake of Garcia not being disappointed in him. 

So tulips it was. They were a symbol of affection, after all. He’d read about their symbolism stemming from the Persian tale of Farhad and Shirin. A tragic love story not too far from mirroring Romeo and Juliet. And the colors—red was for love, white was for honesty, and orange was for understanding. Spencer wasn’t sure if he’d tell you all of that. Maybe if you asked. But it was still a nice thought for him to know that his gift had a meaning as is, beyond his intention. 

He rounded the corner to your door, only to pause when he spotted an older woman standing by it, hands clasped in front of her as if she had been waiting for him. Her hair was a soft gray, pulled back into a bun, and she wore a thick cardigan. Kind eyes appraised him from behind gold-rimmed glasses, and when her gaze dropped to the flowers, her lips twitched in approval.

“Tulips?” she mused. “Good choice.” 

Spencer blinked, caught slightly off guard. “Oh—uh, thank you?”

Her smile deepened knowingly. “You must be Spencer.”

“I am, yes.”

She gave a small nod, then reached into her cardigan pocket, pulling out a keyring. “I’m Edith, the neighbor with her keys,” she explained simply. “She asked me to leave them under the doormat, but I figured I’d wait and hand them off in person.”

“Oh, right! Thank you,” Spencer said, taking them carefully from her outstretched hand.

The woman didn’t step away immediately. Instead, she studied him for a long moment, eyes twinkling with something he couldn’t quite place. And then, in a softer voice, she added, “I know it’s not my place to pry, but be kind to her.”

Spencer’s brow furrowed slightly. “Of course,” he said quickly. 

The neighbor hummed, satisfied but not entirely done.

“You’re very welcome to take care of that girl,” she said gently. “Because I don’t think anyone else does.”

It wasn’t pity in her voice. It wasn’t sadness, either. It was just an observation, simple and steady, spoken by someone who had been watching quietly from the sidelines, possibly for a long time. 

He swallowed, fingers curling slightly around the keys in his palm, not having the time to overthink what she’d said. 

“I will.” 

The woman nodded once before turning to walk up the stairs, heading back to her own apartment. 

Spencer watched her go, then turned back to your door.

He let himself inside, stepping into your space. Spencer had adored your apartment ever since the first time you had him over, that time he’d picked you up from girls’ night. 

It was a small space, crowded with your things. You’d moved in fresh out of high school. It was something about not being able to wait any longer to get out of your mother’s house. Then you’d stayed in the same apartment all through college and when you started working at the library. 

And yes, it was messy. But you were a bit of a mess yourself, so it only made sense. It wasn’t unclean in any way, but you placed things around you without any rhyme or reason. You were still able to find everything, though. Spencer had noticed that quite quickly, observing you in your own space. While he’d lounged in the bed after one of your now very casual sleepovers, he’d seen you find your sweater hung on the kitchen door and your favorite tea mug on the bathroom sink. 

There wasn’t a pattern. He had a pattern for most things in his own apartment. But this made sense to you. 

Spencer dropped your keys in a bowl on a table in your entryway. He didn’t want to feel any responsibility over them. It was weird enough to be alone in your space. 

The apartment was eerily quiet as he kicked off his shoes and took a seat on your couch, the tulips placed on your coffee table. He’d wait for you to put them in water, not wanting to go through your kitchen cabinets looking for a vase. 

He thought he could read for a while or maybe turn on the TV. But he didn’t end up doing anything. He mostly looked around the room, twiddling with his fingers as his eyes lingered on your bookshelf and on the artwork you had decided to hang on the wall. 

The blanket draped over the couch, was it handmade? The coasters on your coffee table, were they souvenirs? The Polaroid pictures blu-tacked to your bedroom door, who were they off? 

Spencer could spend hours asking you questions, he thought. He’d find your reasonings interesting even if they weren’t. 

If it had gone ten minutes or an hour when you barged in through the door with the loudest sigh he’d ever heard, Spencer couldn’t answer. You didn’t even say hi when you saw him sitting on your couch, you just dropped your coat to the floor and smiled, taking in the sight. 

“Tulips?” you exclaimed, dropping your bag on the floor too the second you noticed the bouquet lying on the coffee table. Toeing off your Converse on the way over, you looked at him, eyes wide with excitement. “I freaking love tulips!”

Spencer shifted where he sat, lips curving into a small smile. “I hoped so.” 

“But why? For Valentine’s day?” 

His face warmed, and he hummed in acknowledgment as you picked up the flowers, inhaling their scent. 

Spencer watched as you busied yourself placing them in a vase of water, moving around the kitchen like it was second nature. He was about to tell you to leave them in their wrapping to soak for an hour before cutting the stems, but you seemed to already know that. It was supposed to make them last longer. You loved tulips enough to know that. Spencer saw that as a positive indication. 

“I totally didn’t plan anything special for today,” you admitted, walking back into the living room and placing the flowers back on the table. “Did you want us to do something?” 

“Not really,” he answered. “I just got home from a case, and you have acrylic paint on your shirt. Safe to assume we’re both too tired to go out?” 

You glanced down at your stained crewneck and groaned. “Ugh. Yeah. That tracks.”

Your next move shouldn’t have surprised Spencer as much as it did. 

Standing in front of him, you lifted the sweater over your head, the shirt you had on underneath rising with it slightly. The skin of your stomach exposed to him, but what he focused on was how your belt cinched at your waist and how your slacks basically fitted like a second skin before they flared out at the legs. 

“How do you get them to fit so well?” he asked before thinking. 

With your head peeking out from the sweater as you tugged it off, hair getting messy in the process, you raised your eyebrows in amusement. “Spencer, are you staring at my ass?” 

His mouth opened, then closed again. He had definitely been looking.

You only laughed, shaking your head. “I tailor them myself.”

Spencer exhaled, grateful for the shift in conversation. “That makes sense,” he mumbled. “They look nice.”

You walked off to your bedroom, throwing the stained sweatshirt into your hamper of dirty laundry like you were the next big thing in the NBA. 

By the sound of it, you were changing out of your clothes completely. If Spencer had stretched his neck, he might’ve been able to see it through the door. But he didn’t. It didn’t feel appropriate even though he suspected that you left the door wide open on purpose. 

You tiptoed back into the living room wearing shorts and a big t-shirt, your bare feet barely making a sound across the old wooden floors. Spencer should be used to seeing you look so casual, but he was unsure if he ever would be. 

“I got you that book you were looking for, by the way. Someone returned it today,” you started to say as you bent over to rummage through your bag. “And uh… this,” you hesitated, handing him not only the book but also a bright pink slip of paper. “A very insistent little girl told me I had to make my own.” 

You’d made a Valentine’s card. For him. You’d made it for him. Holding the pink paper in his hands, Spencer’s heart squeezed at the sight—messy crayon doodles, slightly uneven letters spelling out Happy Valentine’s Day. It was simple, kind of ridiculous, and absolutely perfect. 

He couldn’t get a word out, simply staring at it. 

You plopped down on the couch beside him, sprawling out with ease, moving pillows and blankets around. At first, you bent your knees to not touch him, but then on instinct you moved them to be in Spencer’s lap as he got the book and card out of the way. 

Your toes matched the red nail polish on your fingers. He hadn’t noticed that before. 

“Why did you want it, anyway? Didn’t think it was your kind of poetry,” you asked, not bothered by his lack of reaction to the card. 

Although, maybe his silence was enough for you to see through him like glass. He’d never gotten a Valentine’s Day gift before. Garcia got everyone cupcakes, sure, but he’d never received one with romantic intentions. 

“It isn’t. But you read it and seemed to enjoy it.” Spencer straightened, finally finding something to say. Answering questions was something he could manage. “Also, the poem about being a vacuum cleaner seemed too odd to ignore.” 

You’d mentioned it once at the library. The second time you talked to each other. He’d been reading a book on Nobel Prize winners, and you’d approached him, offering him tea and questioning him about his job. A John Cooper Clarke poetry collection in your lap. There was something about a poem and a vacuum cleaner. He remembered thinking that he had to read it, no matter how stupid it sounded. 

You snorted. “Yeah, it’s… weirdly moving.”

Spencer placed the card on the coffee table, patting it with his palm like it meant something. He’d have to save it. Put it on his fridge or make a shoebox of memories with you. 

He then started going through the book. It was muscle memory for him. If he had a book in his hands, he would read it immediately. 

The poetry was so simple, it only would’ve taken him minutes to finish the entire thing. But once he read a line out loud to you, seeing a happy and content smile, he knew he couldn’t hurry through it. So, he read it to you instead. 

The couch was just big enough for the two of you—him sitting upright against the armrest, and you sprawled across the cushions with your feet in his lap, half-buried under a blanket. With nervous fingers, he’d started to trace absentminded patterns on your shin.  

The air smelled faintly of old books and lavender, your signature candle flickering softly on the coffee table next to the tulips. Every now and then, Spencer would pause between stanzas, glancing over at you like he was gauging your reaction. Most of the time you interrupted him yourself, feeling the need to question something. 

“I wanna be your vacuum cleaner, breathing in your dust.” 

You blinked at the ceiling. “What does that even mean?”

“I think it’s a metaphor.”

“For what? Codependency?”

“Or devotion,” Spencer theorized. 

“I wanna be your Ford Cortina, I will never rust.” 

You squinted. “Is that a reliable car?”

“Pretty sure they’re not. Must be irony,” he answered. 

The next interruption wasn’t your doing. You felt the shift before you saw it—his gaze lingering, the gentle press of his fingers against your shin turning more intentional.

“What?” you asked out of curiosity. “Did I miss a spot when I shaved or something?” 

“No, uhm…” He ran his thumb lightly over a faint line near your knee. “Is this a scar or a birthmark?” 

“Scar, I think.” You twisted slightly to glance down. “Might be from when I tried to pick up skateboarding.” 

Spencer’s lips quirked. Yeah, that sounded about right.

“Does it look gross?” you asked. 

He couldn’t fathom a scar looking gross. Not when it was healed. Because if he thought that about someone else’s scars, what would they think about his? 

“I’m not one to speak when it comes to scars,” he mumbled, hesitant.

“I think yours are kinda badass, from stuff you’ve lived through,” you reassured him, a light sparking in your eyes. 

“Skateboarding is cool,” Spencer tried to argue.  

“I never even managed to stand on the board,” you muttered, a smile shining through. “I have another scar on my ribs from scratching my entire side on the sidewalk.” 

He had momentarily forgotten about the book. His focus was only on the skin his fingertips traced and how the scar made a little indent from where it had been scratched open. 

“Can I see it?” Spencer asked without thinking. 

“Not without, like, flashing you my boobs,” you answered plainly. 

Spencer’s fingers abruptly stopped moving as he first thought he hadn’t heard you right. Then he realized that he had asked to see a scar on your ribs. And your ribs were close to your breasts. That was how the human body was shaped.  

“Oh—” His brain seemed to stutter, like a skipping record. “Would that…?”

“You don’t think it’d be a bad idea?” You sat up from your lying position, taking the book in your hands as you bent your legs over his lap. “I could do it. It’s not crossing any boundaries for me. I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 

“You don’t make me uncomfortable,” he murmured.

You smiled back, shifting so you could press a soft kiss to the side of his jaw. He tensed slightly beneath you—not in rejection, but in that way he always did when he wasn’t sure what to do.

“Good,” you whispered.

For a second, you just looked at him. He could sense that you were trying to read his reaction. He wasn’t sure he had a reaction. Or at least one that was reasonable.

Tucking your lower lip between your teeth, a small sigh escaped you. Spencer only briefly had time to wonder if you were disappointed, but your attention turned back to the book, a finger tracing the page to find the next line of the poem. 

“If you like your coffee hot, let me be your coffee pot.” 

You snorted. “Okay, now he’s just saying words.”

Spencer cleared his throat, trying to concentrate on something other than the fact that you basically wanted to be shirtless in front of him. 

“Isn’t that the point of writing? Putting words together?” 

“Smartass.” You scrunched your nose at him.  

He let his eyes linger on the page for a while before he read the next words. He didn’t realize their meaning until they left his mouth. 

“You call the shots, I wanna be yours.” 

You were so close to him. He could hear your breaths, feel them if he focused. The bare skin of your legs touching his covered ones, a burning sensation through the fabric. It was like his ears started ringing by how quickly his heart was beating. He could only wonder if yours was beating even half as fast. 

Spencer wasn’t avoiding eye contact—not exactly—but he was looking at you like he was working through a puzzle, like he was waiting for the right words to magically fall into place before saying them.  

“I have to start thinking rationally about this,” he murmured, almost to himself.

You furrowed your brows. “This meaning sex?” 

“I guess…” He hesitated, his lips pressing together. “It’s about you, in general.” 

“And by that, you mean?”

“It’s biology,” he stated, the beginning of a ramble. “Attraction is a chemical process driven by neurotransmitters. It releases dopamine and oxytocin that are associated with the feelings of reward and attachment. The limbic system is highly active in people experiencing romantic attraction. Essentially, the brain treats attraction like an addiction, reinforcing behavior that leads to emotional and physical closeness.” 

You tilted your head. “So… that’s what’s happening here? Biology?” 

Spencer let out a breath that was almost a laugh. “It is. That’s why you make me incapable of thinking straight and why I get so nervous. I have to realize that it’s biology even though it feels like fiction to me. Does that even make sense?” 

“Nope.” 

“Great. Well—” 

“Spencer.” You sat up fully this time, your legs folding beneath you as you shifted to face him, placing the book on the table with a thud. “There is nothing rational about love.” 

Love. You’d used the word love.

He wanted to continue explaining, but he wasn’t sure he wanted it to make sense. Maybe you were right. Even though there was a scientific explanation for everything he was feeling, there was also a reason as to why people turned to fictional stories when they searched the matters of love. The feelings were allowed to be so irrational that they felt impossible. 

“And that’s not me confessing my love for you, by the way. That’s kind of early, but we’re en route to love, right? Neither of us is in this only for sex?” you continued talking, your hand reaching out to hold his. 

Spencer heard himself laugh. It would be the shittiest sex-only relationship ever, because, well, you weren’t having sex. But then he nodded, agreeing with you—you were in too deep to call it casual. 

“Morgan called you my girlfriend today, and I didn’t even try to correct him. I used to always do that,” he said, something hesitant in the way he admitted it because he was still trying to make sense of it himself.

With an assertive move, you grabbed his hand. “Good. We’re on the same page.” 

Spencer looked down at your joined hands before glancing back up at you. He swallowed. “I’m your…” 

“You’re my boyfriend,” you confirmed, and the way his lips parted slightly, like he was tasting the word, made you squeeze his hand again.

“I’m your boyfriend.”

You nodded, smiling. “Yeah. And don’t overthink it, okay? We can just… be.”

You said it so simply. Easiest thing in the world. Spencer wanted to believe it was. His mind couldn’t accept it so easily, though. It worked overtime in general, but he wasn’t sure he had ever thought so much about the same thing. Being in a relationship, having a girlfriend, sex. He almost wished he could preoccupy his mind with other things, some difficult chess strategy or some foreign literature. But no. It was all you up there. 

And what did you think about it? He didn’t know. 

Spencer cleared his throat, saying, “I’m not sure I’ve asked you how you feel about all of this.” 

“How do I feel about sex?” 

You made a little confused face, and Spencer nodded as an answer, letting the room go quiet as you thought of what to say. You fiddled with the fringe of a blanket with your free hand, the other still holding Spencer’s. 

“I think…” you exhaled. “I think you respect me more than I respect myself.” 

Spencer found it miraculous that you were able to keep eye contact with him even though the smallest of tears formed on your waterline. 

“What’s it been? Over a month? And you haven’t seen me naked,” you continued, almost a surprised tone in your voice. 

45 days. It had been 45 days. He had to force himself to not say it out loud. 

“You haven’t asked, or just… done. Nothing. I’m not sure I know how to react to that. I feel like I should have to throw myself at you to make you like me, but you’re not like that.” 

“I like you just as you are,” Spencer whispered, unsure if it was the right moment for him to speak. 

“I know that, but it’s new for me. I haven’t done all this with someone who actually cares before,” you said, voice sounding like you were constricting the words. 

Your grip around his fingers tightened, and Spencer found himself rubbing circles on the back of your hand with the pad of his thumb. He didn’t dare to reach up and touch your face, but he wanted to. 

Your lip noticeably quivered as you continued, “I haven’t always… valued intimacy the way I should have. And I haven’t exactly been with men who saw beauty in being with me instead of just lust.

It was strange, the way those words made his chest ache. 

You’d mentioned it before—when he admitted he was a virgin, you’d said something about finding it a little amusing that someone could go so long without sex, especially when it had been a coping mechanism for you. He assumed that meant earlier in your life, but truth be told, he didn’t really know. 

Spencer thought back to what Edith had said in the hallway. She’d said that no one had been taking care of you. That didn’t necessarily mean you’d been alone, just that you hadn’t always surrounded yourself with the best people.

And yet, looking at you now, he couldn’t see it. You made it look effortless—being warm, being kind, holding him close like it was second nature. How you were so well put together that no one would ever even notice things you’d been through unless you told them. And you didn’t tell anyone. 

He struggled to picture it—the same girl who had made him a handmade Valentine’s card, who curled up against him on the couch like she belonged there, had also been the girl who once used to stumble home drunk or high, clinging to some guy whose name would be forgotten in the morning. The thought alone made his stomach twist. Someone having their way with you and your mind having convinced you that you didn’t have a choice—thinking that you were so desperate to be liked that you didn’t even mind if it was only for a moment. 

It didn’t fit. You didn’t fit with that image.

Or maybe you did, and he just didn’t know it yet. There was still so much to learn about you, so much you hadn’t yet shared.

Spencer watched as you almost turned on yourself, his silence becoming too much for you to deal with. It hadn’t been his intention to make you uncomfortable, or to make your words seem even heavier than they were because of his lack of reaction. 

“You’re not too good at talking about this either, are you? About what you want?” he wondered, keeping his eyes on you, trying to convey that his silence wasn’t judgment. It was attention. 

A soft huff of laughter escaped you. “No, I guess I’m not.” You paused for a moment before adding, “But I like taking it slow. It makes it feel… different. Special, like it never has before.”

His chest tightened. Like it never has before.

He didn’t know what to say to that, didn’t know how to put into words the way it made him feel—some odd mixture of relief and sadness. He wished he didn’t, but it was relief he felt when he realized that while everything of this was new to him, some aspects were also new to you. The blind leading the blind in a way. 

“I’m sort of scared of being too much for you,” you murmured. “Or for everyone, really.”

Spencer inhaled sharply, shaking his head almost instantly. “But you’re not—”

“And you don’t think you’re ever going to be enough, do you?” you interrupted, watching as the words hit him like a direct shot to the chest.

His lips parted, but no sound came out. He blinked at you, caught off guard, his fingers tightening around yours like he needed something to hold onto. It wasn’t a question. Not really. It was an observation. A fact. One he couldn’t even bring himself to deny. He felt inadequate in every sense when it came to intimacy. 

You reached up, brushing your fingers against his cheek. “We make an interesting pair, huh?” you mused.

Spencer exhaled a quiet laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Interesting was definitely a synonym for dysfunctional in this case. 

“Yeah,” he murmured. “We really do.”

You smiled, leaning in until your forehead pressed against his. You were curled in his arms now, your chest touching his, hand resting on his shoulders as you searched his face. His breath hitched slightly, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, his fingers came up to rest gently against your jaw, his touch featherlight, reverent.

“Tell me what you’d like for us to do together.” 

“I—” He swallowed. “I think I’d like to kiss you for a while. If that’s okay.”

You nodded gently. “Can I sit in your lap?”

Spencer couldn’t form a sentence to answer, but he lifted his hands, inviting you to move closer. Not closer than you ever had been before, but it was by far the most intimate position you’d found yourself in. 

You straddled him, knees on either side of his hips and your ass pressed against his lap. Your exposed thighs painted before Spencer like a landscape of skin. Before he could look at your face, his eyes were glued to the slight pattern of your skin, with scattered scars and birthmarks. 

Close enough, Spencer snuck in a light peck on your lips. The first of many, he hoped. 

Your hands lingered by your side before you lifted them to slowly rest around his shoulders, tickling the skin of his neck, diving your fingers in his hair to stroke his scalp with gentle tugs. He liked it so much that a little noise left his mouth as he couldn’t help but feel his body melt against yours. 

Spencer’s arms were stiff, palms pressed against the couch cushion. He didn’t know if or where to touch you. 

You started to litter his face with little kisses—on his cheeks, jaw, and mouth. He canted forward to meet you halfway, overwhelmed by the feeling of your chest pressed against his. 

Pulling back, you cupped his face, simply looking at him for a moment. “Your face should come with a warning sign. You’ve got bone structure like you were carved out of marble by Da Vinci or something,” you said, leaning back in to kiss him.  

“You’re thinking of Michelangelo,” he mumbled, although the words got lost against your mouth. 

“Huh?” You didn’t stop kissing him.

“Nothing.”

Yeah, it was nothing to bring up compared to what was going on.

He always felt like he had gotten the hang of kissing someone, but with you it was a new sensation every time. And with your tongue slipping inside his mouth, your teeth grazing his lips—an open-mouthed and messy make-out session—he might as well have been fifteen all over again.  

You teased him, and he knew it. Panting in his mouth, gnawing his lips raw. And your hands, god your hands that never stopped wandering. It was innocent, fingers through his hair or running along his arms, but still enough for Spencer’s brain to go haywire. 

He wasn’t sure it was intentional the first time you did it, but he felt your hips move against him. A slow brush forward that could’ve just been you adjusting your position. Spencer’s response was instant, a sharp breath leaving his mouth, entering yours. He was convinced it wasn’t intentional when you simply continued kissing him. But then you did it again. Not once, but repeatedly. 

Spencer was getting harder with every instant your hips ground against his, and surely you noticed it too, because he could feel you smiling through the kisses. 

“You’re allowed to touch me, y’know?” 

His head snapped up at your words, stopping the kissing. 

“But—uhm, where?” 

You gave him a look—one of those knowing, amused looks. “Anywhere. Did you want to see the scar?” 

His throat went dry. He managed a nod.

“So, touch my waist and take my shirt off.” 

He didn’t expect you to be so direct. Maybe he should always expect that from you. 

Spencer took his time, gazing at you sat on his lap. Your lips were wet from kissing, and you had mascara smudged under your eyes. He found you breathtaking, sitting there in a frumpy old t-shirt, smiling at him like he was the dumbest thing ever. 

Carefully, he let his hand settle on your thigh, fingers barely touching your skin. He saw how your eyes followed the way his hands moved, slowly upward, sinking his fingers into the skin in a way that made it spill out between them. 

When he finally reached the fabric of your shirt, he pushed it up, letting his eyes find yours as a way to reassure that it was indeed okay. You did nothing but nod, helping him slowly peel it over your head. Spencer was too busy looking at how cute your face scrunched up when the collar got caught around your head to see that you weren’t wearing a bra. When you carelessly tossed the shirt onto the floor and then let yourself just sit still in his lap, that was when Spencer took in the sight of you, bare aside from your shorts. 

Spencer was pretty sure his eyes went as wide as dinner plates. 

Taking him out of his trance, you started talking, doing a little shift with your hips and crossing your arms over your chest. “This might be the first time I’m nervous about being naked in front of someone.” 

Spencer tilted his head, talking too fast for his own good. “You didn’t mind getting undressed when you had to help me shower after my injury.”

“Wearing a bra and shorts is not the same as being naked,” you stated. 

He dared to move his hands again, finding your arms, absently tracing the skin. You relaxed, uncovering your chest again, letting him see your breasts again. Admittedly, he had a hard time focusing on your face, but he tried his best. 

“What are you nervous about?”

He watched you hesitate, your lips pressing together before you shrugged. The movement was small, but Spencer saw through it. You were trying to sound casual, but the slight tightness in your voice betrayed you.

“What if you think I’ve got weird nipples or something?” 

“T-they’re not weird,” he blurted, far too quickly, and immediately cringed at himself. He scrambled to recover. “Perfectly normal, in fact.”

“Perfectly normal?” 

“Well…” He cleared his throat, cheeks still rosy. “They’re kind of pretty.” 

You giggled in disbelief. “You think my nipples are pretty, Spence?” 

“I think you’re pretty,” he corrected. “And they’re attached to you, so yeah. Pretty.” 

“Well, why don’t you touch them, then?” 

He couldn’t argue with that. As his hands traveled up the sides of your body, he began to stroke the underside of your breasts, taking in the way you reacted to his touch. 

That was when he saw it. The entire reason you were in this position. A puny little scar on the right side of your ribs. Scratched your entire side on the sidewalk. No, it wasn’t longer than an inch. 

Spencer could feel the faint ridge of the scar beneath his touch, but he wasn’t thinking about that anymore. He was thinking about how warm you were, how soft. He was thinking about how insanely close you were to him, how his breaths hit your skin as soon as they left his mouth. 

He cupped your breasts fully, admiring the way they fit in his palms and how the ample skin felt malleable to the touch. Your nipples pebbled under his touch, and your breathing turned quicker as he twiddled them slightly between his fingers. 

“You can kiss them too, y’know.” 

Spencer took in the feeling of having some sort of control over his emotions and over the situation. Fuck yeah, could he kiss them. He started at your sternum with a soft peck, then traced down the valley between your breasts. He looked up at you through heavy eyelashes, his warm brown eyes staring you down as his lips explored. Your jaw slackened, nodding at him reassuringly.

When he took your nipple between them, he heard you hiss at how he purposely teased you. He sucked on the tender skin, mouth on one as he cupped the other. Spencer felt so lost in what was happening that he didn’t even realize he was almost biting down on your skin, grazing your nipple with his teeth until a high moan escaped you.

Your hips rutted forward again, his boner now something that couldn’t be ignored. And by the look of it, the friction was enough to cause you pleasure as well. Spencer wasn’t even sure he’d seen that as a possibility before. But your shorts were thin, and the material of his pants was rough enough to rub your heat every time you moved. 

Spencer only pulled away when his lungs burned for air, releasing your nipple with a soft, wet pop. For a moment, he stared, mesmerized by the way it glistened with his saliva, a fleeting mark of what he’d done. 

You looked at him, grinning. 

His hands found a comfortable space in the divots on either side of your waist as he watched your hands fall from his shoulders down between you. You didn’t touch, or take things any further. They just simply rested on him—on the prominent tent in his slacks. 

“Was, uhm… was this all that you wanted for us to try?” Spencer whispered. 

The air in the room had somehow turned harder to inhale. Humid.   

“I thought I’d start with something less explicit before I tell you that I want your dick inside of me.” 

Spencer now forgot how to breathe. Completely. 

A little giggle escaped you as you took his face in your hands, your palms cold against his skin. Or maybe he was just impossibly warm. He didn’t want to think about how he must have looked—hair a tousled mess, skin pinking, probably blushing all the way down to his toes.

You pushed his hair off his forehead, tilting your head as you asked, “I’ve made you all flustered, haven’t I?.” 

Spencer groaned, pressing his head back against the couch like he was seeking divine intervention. His boner, the elephant in the room, lodged in the space between your bodies, wasn’t enough for you to notice? 

“Do you enjoy torturing me?”

You laughed, hands placed aimlessly on his chest. “I don’t. I just think it’s cute.”

He opened his eyes, peering at you warily. “What’s cute?”

“You.”

Spencer let out a long breath, shaking his head. “You can’t just call me cute after—” He huffed, rolling his eyes. “Never mind.”

You bit back a smile, leaning in again, your nose brushing his. “I mean it, though.”

His hands, which had remained mostly still against your waist, flexed slightly. “Me being cute?”

“No.” You kissed the corner of his mouth. “That I want you.”

Spencer’s breath caught, and for a moment, he just looked at you—like he was trying to memorize this moment, like he wanted to capture exactly how it felt to have you in his lap, saying things that he never thought he’d hear from you. Or anyone for that matter. 

“We don’t have to be nervous,” you murmured. “I think we’re both allowed to want each other.”

“I do want you,” he admitted. “I just… I want to do this right.”

“You will. Let me take care of you, Spence.” 

He didn’t have much else to say when your lips were back on his, tongue slipping into his mouth. Your hips, god your hips, began to move with more intent, practically squeezing his bulge between your crotch and himself. And your tits, moving with every bounce you made. 

Every inch of his skin turned to goosebumps as your fingers sneaked under his shirt, ripping it from where it had been tucked in to his pants. You scratched his skin, and he could imagine the contrast between the red polish and his pale complexion.

Spencer no longer hesitated to explore you. His hands were in tight grips on your hips, wandering to the curve of your ass as he helped you move in rhythm. Glancing down between you, he swore he could see a damp spot blooming on the fabric of your shorts—but that wasn’t what captivated him most.

The best part was when you broke the kiss, gasping for air, your lips parted in a breathless moan. He could shamelessly watch how your face twisted in pleasure. You had an innocent delicacy to your facial features despite the raw need in your body’s movements.

Oh, was he really watching an angel�� 

The both of you quickly got lost in the hazy feeling of not knowing where his hands on you started and where your hands on him ended. Spencer heard how he whined with each of your movements, but he couldn’t have cared less, hips bucking uncontrollably, canting forward to meet your thrusts. 

“Does it feel good?” you murmured, grazing your teeth against his lips. 

A strangled breath was all he could reply with, his hands roaming endlessly for something to grab, something to ground him. 

“Don’t stop, p-please.” 

So he could form words, only that they were pathetic. 

It didn’t take long between when Spencer realized that the friction alone would be enough for him to orgasm and it actually happening. He’d been too pent up for too long of a time to even think about holding it back. The feeling so rushed that he couldn’t warn you, or even say something to you. All that left his mouth were stuttered moans and curse words. He normally wasn’t one to use rude words, but this was uncontrollable. 

“Oh god, oh fuck—” 

He felt a warm liquid spreading from where his cock was tucked in pants, soaking through to stain the fabric. His body froze, and he tried his best to stop his panting breaths as ropes of cum continued to leak out. Out of instinct, his hands left your body, flying up to his achingly blushing cheeks. 

You abruptly stopped moving at his reaction, taking in the sight for a second before your hands clutched around his wrists, moving his hands from covering his face. 

“No, no. I’m not even giving you the right to be embarrassed right now, Spence,” you said sternly, your eyes flickering between him and evidence of his release. “That was like the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” 

He kissed you to shut you up. Soft, gentle kisses that calmed him down and made you rest your weight back down onto his thighs. Lost in the fact that he’d just had his first orgasm in front of someone else, his mind wandered to you, and if you’d enjoyed it as much as he had. But… you hadn’t finished, had you? 

Spencer pulled away, distraught at the thought of taking but not giving. “You didn’t—” 

“No, but that wasn’t the point of this,” you cut him off, further explaining, “Sex isn’t always about making the other person cum. This time, for instance, I think it was mostly about us getting more comfortable with each other.” 

“But we still didn’t have sex.” 

“Sex is whatever you want it to be.” You let out a little sigh, not out of annoyance but out of amusement. “If this is all that you’re comfortable with, then this is sex to you.” 

That made sense, even to him. But now that he had gotten a little taste, he couldn’t wait to be comfortable for more.

“B-but I do want more,” he argued. “More of you.” 

“We’ll get there.” 

“You don’t want me to help you out now?” 

He wasn’t sure where his sudden confidence came from, and by the look of it, neither did you. Your eyes went a little wide as you struggled to answer. Spencer felt a sense of pride at the fact he could make you nervous. 

You shyly looked away, mumbling, “Only if you’re comfortable.” 

“I am. I promise you that I am,” he assured you, turning your face by a light grip on your chin. 

You could move your hips against him with all intent to make him feel good, but you got visibly flustered at the thought of him doing the same to you. Adorable. 

“How—I mean, I could continue getting off on your thigh,” you said quickly, tucking your hair behind your ears in a practiced, nervous manner. “Or you could use your fingers.” 

“Fingers. Can I use my fingers?” 

You hummed while nodding, agreeing immediately, kissing him quickly. 

Making room on the couch, you both tossed some of the decorative pillows on the floor before Spencer laid you down on your back, him halfway spooning your side so that you both would fit.

The kissing continued as Spencer thought of what to do. He’d read a lot about it. He should be able to figure it out. His hands found home, massaging the plush skin of your thighs, thinking that was a simple way to start. Your chest rose as his fingers trailed over your body. You were desperate. 

But maybe so would anyone be if they’d essentially been very close to climaxing and then having it all ripped away. 

Spencer felt so unconvincing as his fingers fumbled with the elastic waistband of your shorts. You were about to be so naked, and he was still fully dressed. You didn’t seem to mind, though. Actually, you were very quick to untie the shorts yourself, pushing them down your legs and then onto the floor. 

Your panties were a simple white with little floral lace details. And he’d been right; you’d soaked right through them. He looked at you carefully, his brown eyes studying yours as his hand played with the lacy upper hem. 

“Keep them on, just—fuck, touch me.” 

He looked at you, twisting and turning under his touch, words falling out of your mouth carelessly. 

Then his hand made contact with your warm, sticky skin. 

First over your pubic bone and then over a slight thatch of hair. 

Spencer brushed what he thought was your clit with featherlight touch, taking in your reaction before delving his fingers between your folds, a surprising feeling with how velvety smooth the pooling wetness he found was. His digits circled down over your entrance before retreating. 

You bit your lip to the point where it looked painful, keeping everything on the inside, turning your head into his chest. 

Spencer stopped moving his hand, using his free one to tilt your head right back, forcing eye contact. “I wanna hear you. Tell me what to do.”

“Move a little higher,” you said, a whine coming from your throat as soon as he followed suit. With a little calculating, Spencer concluded the little bud he was touching was your clit. “Oh, fuck—right there, Spence.” 

He used his pointer and ring finger to slowly explore, moving in gentle circles, touching a place that made your stomach tense and breathing sharpen and separate. Spencer could look at you all day as you enjoyed yourself, letting out a little floating laugh between moans, crinkling your nose as he touched the spot again and again. 

“Kiss me,” you asked between breaths, your eyelids getting heavy the faster his fingers moved. 

His free hand stroked against your jawbone before he leaned down to kiss you, not knowing if he was doing it right. But apparently he was, by the way you whined under his mouth, eyes rolling back. 

“Should I—” He swallowed. “Should I do something more? I read that many women can’t climax from penetration and that clitoral or oral stimulation is easier—”  

Your eyes went wide as he spoke, interrupted by his continued movements. “Fuck, Spence—You wanna use your mouth on me?” You shook your head, hiding into his chest again. “No, this is enough. You’re enough.” 

His fingers slipped between your folds with more ease, hearing the wet sounds he could bring from your pussy. The more he moved, the more he wanted to turn you into a sweet mess at the touch of his fingertips.

“God, you’re gonna make me—” 

You tensed up, and Spencer felt it. And then you let it all go. 

It was like you lost all stability in your bones, turning into a fluid source of warmth in Spencer’s embrace, as his fingers slid messily over your clit, losing momentum, your underwear soaked and stretched out over the back of his hand. 

Spencer had been unsure of if he could notice if you faked an orgasm or not. He now knew that there was nothing fake about you. You let out a last, long breath, and Spencer slowly circled your clit before he pulled his hand away, letting it linger on your naked stomach. 

“Was that okay?” he felt the need to ask. 

You looked up at him, breathing still uneven and your eyes slightly dopey, practically collapsing in his arms. “Okay? Spencer, you were fucking amazing.” 

As Spencer held you, right there on your couch, and you slid your palm over his his chest, resting it tight above the place where his heart was still erratically beating, he felt himself lose control over basically everything. The world narrowed down to you—your skin, your scent, your breathing. Not that much else mattered to him. He wasn’t sure it ever would again. 

“I wish I met you earlier in life.” 

The words left him before he could stop them, and maybe it was a little ridiculous—like meeting you earlier would have suddenly made life easier, like it would have changed anything at all. But still. He truly wished that.

You kissed his neck, murmuring, “We’ve got all the time in the world, Spencer.” 

His fingers skimmed along your arm before settling at your waist, holding you close. You felt so softagainst him, so warm, but after a moment, he felt the residual stickiness of sweat and everything else clinging to both of you. His nose wrinkled slightly, and he knew you caught it before he even spoke.

“Do you wanna go change? Wash your hands? Can’t imagine it’s comfortable being sticky.” 

You probably felt just as sticky as he did, but Spencer could tell—he knew—your suggestion had less to do with yourself and more to do with him, his germaphobia, and his sensory issues. Because you were always thinking about him, about the things that made him uncomfortable, about the ways you could make things easier for him without making a big deal out of it. And wasn’t that just the sweetest thing? Spencer thought so. 

“Mhm,” he hummed, helping you stand from the couch, legs looking a bit wobbly. “And you should go pee. Prevents UTIs.” 

“I know that,” you muttered. 

He rolled his eyes, but the corners of his lips twitched. Sitting up himself, he let you slip away, watching as you padded across the wooded floors. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to seeing your body being so casually naked. But he would love the future time he’d spend trying to get used to it at least. 

“You wanna watch a movie?” you asked, voice sounding almost drowsy, as you picked up your shorts and t-shirt that had been thrown on the floor. “I got The Princess Bride on Blu-ray, and we could order Indian food.” 

Spencer could do nothing but smile, his mind echoing empty of thoughts. “Sure thing.” 

Thank you for reading! Please tell me what you think ♡ And yes, for those of you who didn't know, the Arctic Monkeys song is originally a JCC poem.

[cuteandhughesy]

Tripping, Falling With No Safety Net | Matt Rempe (part 2)

summary: four weeks has passed since your adventure in the elevator, and you haven’t stopped thinking about the attractive stranger since then. just when you think you’ll never see him again, you run into matt in the most unattractive place.

7.8k

warnings: NSFW! kissing | masturbation (f) | sex toys (reader and matt use a vibrator) | smut | brief oral (f receiving) | mentions of blowjobs | unprotected p in v intercourse | cum play if you squint | mature dialogue and themes | read at your own discretion

a/n: the much requested and anticipated part 2 of no sex in the elevator! I hope I did this justice and you all enjoy the blooming story of matt and y/n :)

read part one here !

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you see matt rempe everywhere. okay, well no—not really. the physical, almost 7ft tall man who rocked your world on the carpet of an elevator almost two months ago was nowhere in sight…physically. but his name, well you see it and hear it everywhere.

the last name you've since become well aware of is sprawled across the back of jerseys—haunting you as you walk around new york—his name is heard on the tv at work, all your male co-workers raving over how much a savage matt rempe is.

if only they knew.

that night, which somehow feels like forever ago but simultaneously feels like yesterday, has yet to leave your head—or your body. matt practically destroyed you, splitting you in two with his length until it felt like you were going to cry. the hours trapped with him really had you feeling somewhat fond of giant man, and growing enamoured with his little quirks and giggles.

not only did you learn so much about him, but matt learned so much about you. but that evening, as the maintenance finally rescued you from the hot, sex smelling metal box, you were both in such a hassle that you forgot to exchange numbers.

you didn't realize the mistake until you finally got back to your apartment, nearing 3 in the morning, crawling into bed already dreading your morning shift—still fluttering between your legs—when it dawned on you. you have no way of contacting matt, and he has no way of reaching you.

you're just two strangers who fucked in an elevator.

although neither you or matt disclosed the full extent of your professions—you knew he worked in sports. but the shock you felt when you saw him in an nhl highlight reel, over your middle aged colleagues shoulder at work nonetheless, had your jaw dropping. I mean, you should've expected it just based on the muscles underneath his soft skin, and the stamina he displayed when he was pounding into—you need to calm down.

you went home that night and found him on instagram, sending him a DM before you could overthink the situation. you've started to catch feelings for him for fucks sake, you can't allow him to slip through you fingers that easily.

but you never got a response. I mean, with the amount of DMs a young, attractive professional athlete must receive, yours was bound to get lost in the abyss—but there was still a small part of you that has hope. but that hope was started to get crushed when you were meet with radio silence for weeks.

almost 4 weeks to be exact, which in hindsight isn't that long, but when the only thing you can think about or focus on is seeing matt, or talking to him one more time—4 weeks feels like a lifetime.

4 weeks of pent up sexual frustration stemming from matt damn rempe. worst of all, not even your fingers or shitty bullet vibrator are doing the trick—you can't even make yourself cum because he’s ruined you for life.

which brings you to now, 7 p.m on a thursday night. the soft blanket strewn loosely across your bed rubs your shoulder blades soothingly as you shuffle around, brows furrowed in concentration as you slide the slick, gray vibrator through your folds.

your jaw goes slack as you bump your clit, your back arching of your bed as your nerves ignite. the humming vibrations tickle your core just right, and you're getting increasingly more wet and slippery as you hold the bullet to yourself. you're not close yet, but it feels good enough—which seems to be the new motto of your lacking sex life: good enough. a breathless sigh escapes you, legs spreading impossibly wider as your body naturally searches for more—for him.

the vibrator stutters oddly, and your eyes widen at the feeling. pushing yourself up onto your elbow, you eye the slick device. it stutters again, more frantically this time before completely quitting. you whine, body falling back in defeat. you feel like you could cry, removing the device from your folds and hastily plugging it into its charger.

it's a long shot, considering you just took it off the charger, but maybe it's battery life has decreased since you purchased the toy—in fucking college. you pump your fingers in and out of your dripping entrance while you wait, but it does nothing to soothe the burning in your loins. much like you suspected, the vibrator isn't charging. it's completely dead. garbage.

"stupid piece of shit." you roll your eyes and toss it across your bedroom. it hits the lipgloss you left on your vanity before falling into the trashcan—along with the brand new tube of rhode lipgloss still in the box. you're too horny to even worry about that right now, so you get off your bed and slip on the pair of sweatpants you'd discarded the night before.

you're feeling flushed, and the white tank top you’re wearing is doing nothing but sticking to your dewy skin uncomfortably. throwing on a zip up is the last thing you want to do, but walking to the drug store in just a tank top will have you regretting not wearing one—so here you are. just before you walk out of your apartment, you grab a pair of oversized sunglasses. the last thing you need right now is getting caught by a co-worker or a friend while trying to buy a new vibrator.

as soon as you step into the pharmacy, you slip the glasses down, shielding yourself from the fluorescent lights. you make a beeline to the hygiene aisle, darting past the tampons and adult diapers until you're at the correct section. you’re so horny and determined you can’t even care how crazy you look.

"okay," you sigh, peering through the options on the middle shelf in front of you. there's more options that you were expecting, and it's making your brain go a little fuzzy. it doesn't help that you can feel your arousal dripping down your inner thigh—but you digress.

you opt for a new version of what you already had, your nimble fingers grabbing it off the shelf and quickly tucking it against your chest. you let out a breath of what feels like relief, turning on your heels and walking out of the long aisle.

about a mater away, lingering at the end of aisle 8, thumbing through body wash, stands matt rempe. your steps falter, and your stomach swoops with something you can't decipher—whether it's excitement or nerves, you’re too shocked to tell. your face pales and flushes all at once, and the grip you have on the sex toy box tightens.

matt hasn't seen you, so before he has the chance to, you turn around and dart back into the aisle. you’re fumbling, bumping into the shelf of tylenol beside the pregnancy tests, and you curse as some of the medicine clatters and falls to the ground. you can feel him moving—your body igniting like a magnet.

"shit." you curse hurriedly, gathering the medicine off the floor and hazardly throwing the bottles back onto random shelves—you’re pretty sure one even ends up with the ultra thin condoms. out of the corner of your eye you see a large pair of sneakers walk by the aisle—matt walk by the aisle. you freeze, breathing catching and hands stilling on a bottle of extra strength.

but matt doesn't stop—oh fuck, never mind, he's doubled back. you've definitely been found, you think. you clear your throat in hopes to act natural, getting off your knees and placing another bottle of medicine back onto its proper shelf, attempting to appear small and nonexistent.

he slows to a stop right beside you, large frame towering over you and casting a shadow. but you don't look. instead you pretend to rifle through the shelves like you work there or something.

matt lets out a small breath of laughter, and the sound has your heart leaping. he reaches out towards you and plucks your sunglasses off your face. fuck, you think—he's got you know. slowly, your eyes flicker up to meet his familiar brown gaze. immediately your knees feel weak.

his lip quirks up in a smirk that makes you flush. "thought that was you." matt says casually, sliding the oversized glasses back into your hair, revealing even more of your blushed skin.

"it's me." you swallow.

you feel a bit dumbfounded. you can't decide if you want to turn heel and sprint out of the store, or sprint into matt rempe's arms. he looks so good, all cozy in a hoodie and matching sweats—light gray nonetheless. subconsciously your eyes trial down to matt's crotch, and yeah, you can see his dick print. your vagina clenches pathetically—it remembers the man in front of you all too well.

you tried so hard to get in contact with matt, hell you prayed for it. and now here he is, all 6 foot 9 inches of him. standing with you in front of the tylenol and condoms in a random new york drug store.

matt's smirk deepens, and a splash of pink dusts over his cheekbones. "it's you. hey." he's got one of the body washes in his hand, the same brand he'd been looking at when you spotted him—some old spice scent that probably smells like heaven. "how are you?"

it has you remembering what you've got in your arms, and your eyes widen comically. it’s no use because matt has already seen the vibrator, but he lets you panic anyways—smirk still on his face nonetheless—fumbling with the box until it's behind your back. "i'm okay."

he nods his head, amused. "I bet."

you blink, swallowing roughly as you tilt your neck back to look up at him. your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. you've spent so much time thinking about what you'd say to matt if you ever saw him again, and now he's here and your mind has gone blank. "I dmed you..." you start lightly, trailing off, taking a shaky breath. "on instagram. I didn't know your last name but my co-worker, dylan who's a total jerk by the way—he had highlight reels on and I saw you. on the ice. matt rempe."

you laugh breathily like you can't believe what's happening—because you truly can't believe what's happening. matt's heart flutters fondly at your rambling admission and the small laugh that bubbles from you. his brows shoot skyward in surprise.once he focuses on what you said, rather than how you looked when you said it. "wait, really?"

you nod pathetically.

he hums. "damn, I should check my messages more often, huh? i'm sorry, I had no fucking idea. If I did I would've..." matt trails off, tongue swiping along his bottom lip as his eyes dart over your face. slowly. your eyes are bright and lustful, cheeks pink with embarrassment and something else, and he can see your pale purple lace bra through your thin white tank top. "I would've answered."

your breath hitches, fingers tightening on the box still hidden behind your back. "oh."

he runs his free hand through his messy, damp hair. you wonder if he had an afternoon game today, and his hair is wet from his postgame shower. or maybe matt has started his shower at home and then was out of body wash—leaving him with no choice but to come here and get some. whatever it is, you're glad matt rempe is here.

and in some sick way, you're glad you decided to masturbate tonight, and even more so that your old, shitty vibrator died.

matt's smirk is back, and for a moment you’re back in that broken down elevator, starring at him through the haze of red light as he dares you to sit on his lap. matt’s eyes dart past your shoulder for a moment, "you need help with something?"

you just know he's referring to the sex toy you'd been trying to buy, and your skin burns so hot you feel like you could ignite in flames. hesitantly, and to honestly save yourself some dignity, you bring it back around to your front. you laugh dismissively, "it fell. actually, I was just putting it back." you shove the vibrator box between a rabbit toy and some lube.

matt's brows furrow, but his small amused grin doesn’t wavers. "no need to be embarrassed, y/n. i've been inside you, remember?"

you squawk like a parrot, looking around frantically to ensure nobody is in hearing distance. matt doesn't care though, and he picks the vibrator right back off the shelf and tucks it between his bicep and forearm.

"matt." you say, looking between his face and the sex toy nestled in his arm. "you really don't need to-"

"-I need to grab deodorant and some candy, come on." he interrupts, walking further down the aisle, vibrator in his grip. you blink once, then twice, and before you can register what you're doing, you're following him. matt slows his long strides as he hears your feet slapping against the tiles quickly to catch up, a fond grin on his soft face.

matt is itching to reach out and touch you in some way—he's missed you so much it's honestly embarrassing. you look so soft and warm, looking up at him all bright eyed and long lashes, following him blindly. matt has no excuse for being turned on…it’s simply just you that does it for him.

he comes to a stop in front of the deodorants, looking through the various brands. "so, were you just coming here to get this?" matt questions without looking at you, grabbing an irish spring aerosol. he smells it through the cap, and then puts it back.

"ummm, yeah." embarrassment is lacing your words, and you clear your throat once again. but matt doesn't seem bothered, picking up some name brand deodorant that apparently smells like fresh wood and the ocean.

"really? you loose your charger or something and have to buy a new one?" he asks, popping off the cap and taking a sniff. it actually smells like shit, not wood and ocean—matt puts the lid back on and slots it on the shelf.

"ummm, yeah." embarrassment is lacing your words, and you clear your throat once again. but matt doesn't seem bothered, picking up some name brand deodorant that apparently smells like fresh wood and the ocean.

"really? you loose your charger or something and have to buy a new one?" he asks, popping off the cap and taking a sniff. it actually smells like shit, not wood and ocean—matt puts the lid back on and slots it on the shelf.

the absurdity of it all makes you laugh gently. his seemingly casual demeanour is rubbing off on you, and although matt rempe is technically a stranger, he's also not. you run a hand through your hair, which is no doubt tangled from when you'd be rolling around in your bed trying to make yourself cum. "worse, actually."

"oh yeah?" he grins curiously.

you nod. "yeah, 30 minutes ago it literally broke down in the middle of using it. so here I am."

his eyes gloss over, and matt looks right at you, deodorant forgotten. "you were touching yourself 30 minutes ago?"

you nod again.

matt shudders out a breath, a small hushed curse following. his eyes quickly dart to your boobs because he can’t help himself, and then they travel further down, briefly landing on your covered pussy before he finds your face again. he can feel his dick twitch uncomfortably in his sweats. "you're killing me."

his admission is so quiet that you're not even sure if he meant to say it out loud. you swallow your anticipation, watching as matt hurriedly grabs an old spice deodorant without smelling it, adding it to the growing pile in his arm before looking back at you. "come back to my place, y/n."

your stomach swoops, and then a shaky please follows matt's words and you're nodding quickly—desperately. his grin widens, "okay, let's go. fuck the candy." and he's dead serious.

you giggle, and it has matt joining in. one of his large hands wraps around your waist, pulling you in front of his body as you begin to walk towards the checkout. "stay in front of me," matt mumbles, leaning down and brushing his lips against your ear. "i'm half hard and if you move everyone is going to know what’s going on.”

that gets you both moving, lining up in the check out lane to purchase the collection of items—and yes, matt buys you the vibrator. the teenage boy behind the cash eyes matt and the sex toy curiously, but matt doesn't seem bothered. if anything, he seems proud, wrapping his long arms around your waist and tugging you back against his semi.

matt's place is a bit farther than yours, and you know that because you could've walked to yours in the time it takes matt to drive to his. but you don't mind—how could you when the entire drive is filled with soft conversation, and matt's thumb rubbing your knee as he grips your thigh.

there's a unspoken tension on the ride up in the elevator that lingers between you and matthew, slinking between you both and reminding you of what happened last time you were in an elevator together. kissing, laughter, breathless moaning and lewd wet noises.

your vagina is fluttering again, and it doesn't help when matt steps closer to you, gently grabbing your face between his hands and tilting your head backwards—leaning down and kissing you.

his lips are as soft as you remember, and they work yours just the way you want them too. your body is falling apart in his hands, swaying into his chest and sighing into his mouth. as you attempt to deepen the kiss and swipe your tongue along his bottom lip, the elevator doors slide open.

matt snickers when you whine, hands sliding down your body until he's grabbing at your hips. "c'mon."

matt's place is actually really fucking clean. it's a typical new york apartment, all white and modern with crisp furniture and counters that look so expensive you're scared to not use a coaster. there's small touches of matt throughout the space though. a framed photo of what looks like his family on a kitchen shelf, as well as snacks not yet put away but instead, left on the counter. it's all mostly healthy shit that makes you pull a face.

there's a few loose throw blankets on the couch and a fake plant on the coffee table. there's spare hockey sticks in the corner of the room next to a tall lamp—although you're sure if matt stood next to it, it would look miniature. there's shoes by the door, and coats on the chair. it smells like hockey puck and cologne, and matt must've left the tv on before he left, because you can hear madagascar playing.

you've been gawking at his apartment long enough for matt to have already unpacked the drugstore bag—his deodorant, body wash and your fucking vibrator lined up on his counter.

he grins, balling up the fabric tote bag and shoving it in the cupboard beside the fridge. matt's dark eyes flicker to your form, still standing in the threshold between the kitchen and living space. "you look pretty in my apartment."

his voice has you blinking out of your unapologetic stare, looking over just as matt grabs your waist, gently bringing you into the kitchen and up against his torso. "just in your apartment?" you tease—you're too horny and too touch deprived to feel embarrassed any longer.

"everywhere." matt corrects himself, his words whispered in the minimal space left between you. his large hands slide down and over your ass, giving the flesh a firm squeeze before he's lifting you off the floor and sitting you down on the counter.

your breath hitches in surprise, but soon enough you feel yourself stop breathing completely—because now you're at the perfect level to be in proper eye contact with matt. instinctively your hands slide up his shoulders before wrapping your arms around his neck, holding him close. matt's eyes flicker down to your lips, and then in a blink he's kissing you again.

this kiss is slower and more messy than the chaste, hurried one in the elevator. it's like matt's taking his time with you, his hands alternating between sweeping up and down your spine and squeezing the flesh of your ass, each time pulling you closer to the edge of the countertop—closer to him.

you moan pathetically into the kiss, fingers carding through matt's hair and squeezing the roots firmly.

reluctantly, matt pulls away from the kiss, his lips all swollen and slick. you chase his mouth desperately, but he doesn't give in. matt sighs, the sound shaky and desperate as he takes his hand off your ass—instead placing it flat on the counter just next to your hips.

"matt," you pout, eyes flickering to his in a way that has his cock hardening. "please."

you don't have to say what you're begging for, because matt knows exactly what you want. he wants it to—he wants your warm, sweet walls squeezing around his length the same way they did a month ago. but he also wants you in every other way, not just sexual—which is a surprise to him too, trust me. "I know." he says, pecking the corner of your mouth quickly.

matt watches as your eyes flutter closed at the feeling, only to snap back open when he pulls away. he continues, "but I missed you too much, and i'm fucking starving."

"what?" you blink.

quickly, matt's eyes darken until they're almost black. he reaches up to your face, taking your sunglasses off your head and placing them on the counter—next to a fruit bowl that's only full of bananas and oranges. your hair falls in your face, but matt tucks it behind your ear before you get the chance. his hand lingers on your face when he says, "first we're going to eat, maybe watch a movie and then im going to take this new vibrator and hold it against your pretty pussy until you cum. understand?"

your mouth falls open in what can only be shock. you nod dumbly, speechless as you digest matt's dirty words—anticipation bubbling low in your belly.

he kisses your cheek and then completely pulls away from you, turning around and opening the fridge. "what do you want to eat? i've got stuff to make pasta if you want that."

you're gripping the edge of the counter so hard that you're knuckles are turning white, looking at matt's back as he stifles through his fridge. you blink again, still feeling the aftershocks of the shock that you have from matt's filthy promise. "what?" you finally speak.

it makes matt pause, looking back at you over his broad shoulder. your expression has him flattering, "are you okay?"

your brows furrow. "am I okay? no, i'm so wet it’s not even funny. god, you've turned me into a slut, matt. i'm fucking banging one out every night because of you and what you did to me in that elevator....and you want to cook for me? also yeah, I love pasta."

his lips tug in a smile at your pathetic, whiny tone. you're not actually mad, that much is seeable. sure, you're confused and so horny it's not even laughable, but matt wanting to cook for you....it just turns you on even further. there was a part of you that was worried he'd only want sex again, and as much as you hated to admit that, it would've crushed you.

you'd never had more fun or felt more comfortable than you had with matt in that broken down elevator. when you ran into him again tonight, all those feelings came rushing back, and if he only wanted to fuck you and kick you out, you don't think you would've recovered.

but here he is, all tall and handsome with ground beef in his hand, looking at you softly with an amused smirk. "I haven't seen you in a month and I didn't think i'd ever see you again. so yeah, I wanna talk for a bit before I get you naked, y/n. I missed your voice and snarky comments too much."

you release a breath you didn't realize you were holding. his words providing the relief and conformation you were hoping for. "I missed your voice too."

matt smiles then, a real smile that you can't help but mimic. he nods once, almost shyly, and tosses the ground beef on the counter—a firm smack echoing throughout the kitchen knook. "get over here so I can feel you up while I start this meat."

you laugh and slip of the counter, pushing yourself next to matt and begin help him start making dinner. and like promised, matt smacks your ass appreciatively. 

you hadn't realized how hungry you'd become until the smell of seasoned meat sauce hits your senses. when you got home from work you hadn't even eaten anything, too pent up with sexual frustration to do anything but strip your pants off and get to business.

you're stirring the curly noodles in the boiling water when matt's soft voice filters through the kitchen. "you know after you and I were rescued in that elevator…I realized I forgot to ask for you number when I was halfway home—I made my cab driver turn aorund and take me back. there was a part of me that was hoping you were still there for whatever reason, but you weren't. I was so mad at myself."

you frown gently, looking up at matt. his brows are furrowed as he drags a wooden spatula through the sauce, still bubbling on the stove next to you. you clear your throat, "I remembered when I got in bed that night, and I was so angry at myself for forgetting. I thought id never see you again—but when I saw you on tv, all sexy and famous, I had a feeling that I'd run into you again. somewhere...somehow."

he meets your eyes, and in the most deadpanned voice he mumbles, "i'm so glad I was out of body wash." you smile, and matt presses a loud kiss to your temple, making your grin grow.

once dinner is finished and plated, matt chooses to sit next to rather than across, and that really shouldn't melt your heart as much as it does. light conversation and flirtatious glances are exchanged between chews and swallows, making the coil in your stomach clench and throb pathetically.

matt begins talking about his last game, and about the fight he'd been in—which explains the small split on his eyebrow that you noticed when you were sitting on the counter top. it makes you think back to when you first saw matt on your collages computer screen. you finish your bite of pasta, "my co-workers called you a savage."

he snickers, eyes twinkling with amusement as he swallows his mouthful of food. "did you tell them that you know me?"

"no." you breathe a laugh, stabbing some noodles onto your fork. "then i'd have to tell them how I know you." matt's brows quirk in further curiosity while you take the pasta off the utensil, chewing it quickly before continuing. "my one co-worker, the one I mentioned earlier, he has some weird hard on for me, so I don't think he'd appreciate me talking about his favourite athlete pounding my shit."

it doesn't make matt laugh like you expected. instead his gaze hardens and jaw ticks as he looks at you. "want me to punch him in the face? because I will." it's only after he says it, does matt allow his lips to slide upwards into a grin.

you snort, rolling your eyes with a fond smile. "no, matt oh my god. you're crazy."

he shrugs, taking another bite of food. "for you." matt mutters through a mouthful of curly saucy noodles, waggling his eyebrows in a playful manner.

you look away. "cheesy."

"but true."

"but cheesy." you reiterate softly, gaze flickering back to matt's.

he breathes and lets a beat pass. "...yeah." and when matt's eyes flicker down to your mouth and his hand runs up your leg, your face falls—looking at matt with a soft, yet hopeful expression. your own eyes fall down to matt's lips, watching his tongue slide along his bottom lip to moisten the plump skin. you blink and he's leaning in—slowly—to not startle you.

you put down your fork, the sound a small clink against the ceramic plate—echoing in your ears. matt had already put down his utensil, you note, because both hands are on your face in an instant. despite his grip on you, he doesn't bring you in for a kiss, but rather meets your mouth exactly where it is.

he taste like pasta and the strawberries he'd been sneaking when you were making dinner—and you taste the same, because he'd been feeding you the fruit like some kind of hallmark boyfriend. you moan into his mouth, and matt's long fingers slide through your hair smoothly, eliciting another breathy sigh from you.

you've turned into complete pudding, and he knows it too. the way you let matt move your face and touch your body—the sighs and groans passing through your mouth—they're all tell tale signs. an after dinner movie is long forgotten as matt lifts you up and off the small kitchen chair, back into his strong arms. your thighs tighten around his torso, and your arms wrap further around his neck as matt brings you back to the kitchen counter-top, sitting you on the surface like he did almost an hour ago.

the kiss never stops, and if anything it deepens. there's more heart and passion in this kiss—you need him and he needs you, and your mouths are doing a good job at telling that.

"what were you thinking about? when you were touching yourself?" matt barley pulls back from the kiss as he asks, lips brushing over yours slipperily.

you moan loudly, too loudly for simply just dry humping and dirty questions. "you." you admit breathlessly, your control and filter out the window. "was thinking about you."

matt doesn't answer, but instead leans back in and resumes the kiss. this time it's more messy and hurried—clashing teeth and tongues like they're in competition. his hands slide down your back, pass the elastic waistband of your sweats and over your ass.

matt groans when he realizes you're not wearing panties and that it's only your smooth, soft skin under his calloused palms. he squeezes your ass firmly, dragging you closer to the edge of the counter. "lift your hips."

you do without question, and matt takes the opportunity to pull your sweat pants down, all the way down your thighs, past your knees and over your ankles. matt's jaw goes slack at the sight of your bare, glistening pussy—the pussy he hasn't stopped thinking about for a month.

you're so wet it's not even funny. you can't help it, you've been turned on since before you got home from work—an interrupted solo sesh combined with matt's filthy words and kisses have you feeling on the verge of combustion.

his eyes finds yours again. "you're so fucking beautiful." he spreads your legs further apart with his hands, manoeuvring your limbs until you're perfectly exposed and positioned—exactly how matt wants you. the counter is cold under your feet and ass, but you don't care. all you can focus on is matt as he reaches behind you, grabbing the vibrator box and ripping it open.

your breath hitches and matt smirks. you swallow roughly, walls fluttering around nothing as his long fingers pull the toy out of the plastic holder. "matt...please, I need it so bad."

"take your shirt off." matt demands, ignoring your whiny pleas and pouty lips. he watches through hooded lids, toying with the bullet between his fingers as you lift your tank top off, revealing the pale purple lace bra he'd seen peeking through your shirt earlier. he falters slightly, groaning at the sight of your nipples pebbled under the lace. "I thought the animal print bra killed me...but this one? fuck."

your hips jerk, buts matt's quicker, pushing you back to the counter with one hand—while the other flicks the vibrator to life. the sound of rhythmic buzzing fills the room, and your pussy recognizes the sound and begins fucking dripping. "tell me you want it."

this matt is different from the one in the elevator. he's more sure—more dominant. and maybe it's because you're too wound up to form proper sentences, but unlike the time in the elevator, you're speechless. no quips or remarks, only pure burning need. you're submitting, and it's so hot.

you nod dumbly, pushing up onto the tips of your fingers so you can nudge your nose along matt's. he presses a chaste kiss to your puffy lips simply because he can't help it, and then he smirks when it makes you whine.

"I want it." you mumble, "I want you to touch me. with the vibrator...push it through my folds and hold it on my—oh fuck." you're interrupted as matt does exactly what you need, running the expanse of the toy up your slippery lips and finding your puffy, needy clit.

you mewl loudly, arms giving out underneath you and leaving you no choice but to fall back on your elbows.

"that's it, fuck, that's my girl." matt praises softly, running the vibrator up and down your folds. the feeling is heavenly, leaving your walls clamping and fluttering as your juices spill out your entrance.

"matt." you say his name helplessly. you're close, and you've been close for hours.

he hums, licking his lips. "I know baby, let me just have a taste." matt doesn't wait for your response before he’s dropping down to his knee. he keeps the vibrator solely on your throbbing clit, and like the kind, sweet, perfect man he is, thrusts his tongue into your entrance.

you moan loudly. "oh my god! don't stop."

and he couldn't even if he wanted to. you taste delicious, and matt's lapping at your juices like he can't get enough. the way he's got you spread open with his free hand on your inner thigh, combined with the vibrations on your clit and the feeling of his smooth tongue dipping in and out of your hole has you snapping.

"i'm cumming." you moan, your body tensing as your orgasm flushes through your nerves and muscles. matt doesn't slow his pace, fucking you through the high of your climax like a starved man.

you sigh loudly, falling back against the counter top as your body goes limp. it's only then that matt takes the vibrator off your clit, his tongue slowing in thrusts as your walls clamping dies down. he kneads and squeezes your thighs comfortingly, hushed praises falling from his slack jaw as you come back to reality.

"you okay?" matt questions softly, rising back to his full height. he helps you sit back up, and your arousal is cold against your skin—but your body is still hot and desperate for more.

you nod quickly, hands dipping beneath the hem of matt's shirt and feeling up his abs. his muscles contract and jump under your touch, and when you pass over his pecks—graze his nipples—he curses lowly. "I wanna suck your cock, matty."

one hand drops down, brushing over his hardening length beneath his gray sweats. matt's lashes flutter against his cheeks, a rough groan vibrating through his chest. "oh fuck—another time baby, I need to feel your pussy."

and who are you to object that?

matt's grabbing you again, wrapping you around his torso like you’re a koala and blindly walking you over to the sofa. you giggle happily into his warm neck, pressing a few lingering kisses against his pulse point that make his dick twitch—poking your ass.

he sits down with you on his lap, and matt is instantly attaching his lips to your jaw—kissing, nipping and sucking along you skin. automatically your head tilts, giving him the access he needs to continue a path down your neck. his hands are all over you—grabbing the meat of your ass, squeezing your waist and brushing your tits.

you're grinding against his clothed core pathetically, soaking his sweatpants like you're in heat. "you're wearing too many clothes," you breathe, already tugging on the hem of matt's hoodie. he leans back, watching with a soft smile and lazy eyes. he nods leisurely and you pull off his hoodie, revealing the expanse of soft, smooth skin and muscles that is matt rempe's torso.

you grin happily, squeezing his biceps and then his shoulders. you take your lip into your mouth, shamelessly letting your eyes wander his body. it's makes matt chuckle lowly, "forgot what I looked like?" he teases, brushing your wild hair away from your face and tucking it behind your ears.

you shake your head. "mhmm, could never forget." you lick your bottom lip, meeting matt's eyes. "was just admiring."

matt's pupils dilate and then his gaze turns dark. he leans into you, kissing you roughly, one of his large hands sprawled across your neck. you didn't think that any kiss would ever beat the ones matt gave you in that broken down elevator, but here he is now, outdoing himself.

"what do you want?" matt asks you, licking into your mouth once more before you can answer.

"what do you want?" you parrot, pushing your needy core down against his.

he groans loudly, slapping your ass quickly—so quickly you don't even have time to react properly before he's speaking again. "no, it doesn't matter what I want right now. i've been replaying everything you said in that elevator for a month. every. single. thing. fuck, you've been making me hard for a damn month without even being here. I've been dreaming of pleasing you...touching you. so once again, what do you want, y/n?"

your heart jumps, and your hips still against his momentarily. you think matt must be trying to kill you with words, because it feels like you're about to die. he says your name again, spoke quietly into your neck as he licks a strip up your skin. you gasp, hands flying to matt's hair.

you're breathless and fidgety, but still you manage to say — "I want to ride you." he curses shakily, and he thrusts his hips upwards, sending you crashing into his chest. you laugh, wrapping around matt like its second nature as he uses the leverage to pull his sweats and boxers down to rest just above his knees.

as soon as matt sits back down against the cushions, you're moving, reaching behind yourself and sliding your hand down matt's hard, warm length. you feel the two prominent veins against your palm, teasing you more than they have in the past month. you both sigh at the feeling of you slowly jerking his cock in your hand, teasing his throbbing slit with a swipe of your thumb.

matt tugs your bra down, revealing your heavy chest. "missed these." he says, already fondling your boobs with his hands, attaching his mouth to one puffy nipple. your body rolls instinctively, and matt's cock nestles hot and heavy between your ass cheeks.

"yeah?" you question knowingly—teasingly—lifting your hips just enough to guide the head of matt's cock close to your entrance. you're dripping again, so wet that it feels impossible to even breathe.

matter releases your nipple with one more sloppy kiss. "fuck yeah." his hands find your hips, lifting you higher to allow his dick to perfectly prod your hole. your breath hitches, hands falling to matt's broad shoulders to steady your legs—which have already started to tremble.

the head of his tip slips inside you comfortably, and your walls begin clamping in an attempt to suck him in deeper. you whine, trying to grind down, but matt's hands tighten on your hips—stopping you. "go slow, baby. you're shaking."

"shaking with need." you retort playfully. yet you're out of breath, small hands digging into matt’s trapezius muscle as you attempt to calm your eager, adrenaline filled body.

he gives you a teasing but knowing glance before he's helping you onto his length. slowly and inch by inch he fills your needy pussy, stretching you like putty. he's more endowed than you remember—thicker and longer. you gasp, stilling halfway down his length. "you're so big. I don't know if it'll fit."

matt pouts, although you're pretty sure it's condescending. his hands squeeze the meat of your hips again, a momentary distraction from the fullness between your legs. "it fit before baby, you can do it."

you mewl like a cat at his words. this time matt lets you sink down the rest of the way, going at your own pace as you take the rest of his length. he shutters, "that's my girl." then presses a kiss to your shoulder.

you've completely taken him, clit hitting matt's pelvic bone as your walls reach the base of his cock. matt's balls twitch against you, and you've never felt more stuffed in your life. "oh my god I think I can feel you in my stomach."

matt moans, fingers flexing on your body. "yeah? shit baby."

you sigh dreamily, and slowly begin lifting back off his member, rising only half way before sinking back down. matt curses, hands firmly sliding down to your ass and giving it one quick smack. you whine, picking up the speed of your movements just enough to have your toes clenching.

"just like that." he mutters, leaning in and sucking the pulse point on your neck. his nose nudges your skin, and he inhales, moaning at your sickly sweet scent. "you smell so good." matt grunts, nipping your skin—it stings but it's also delicious.

"today, before I even saw you, I knew you were there. I could smell your fucking perfume—that floral scent i've been longing for."

you moan, picking up your speed further. "oh my god!" your legs are starting to burn, and they've begun to shake more intensely. it has your movements faltering slightly, quick bursts of air leaving you as you try and control your breathing.

you go for another minute, desperate to try and reach your climax. your fingers dig into matt's chest and arms hard, leaving small crescent moon indents along his skin. your pout comes in full force, a tired and disappointed cry leaving your parted lips. “I can't-ugh, I can't do it."

matt knew it was only a matter of time before you became exhausted, and he's honestly surprised you lasted the 5 minutes you did. he can feel your walls squeezing and fluttering around his painfully hard cock—a sign that you're close.

he coos, scooping around the backs of your thighs so you're completely held up by his hands. "you tired baby?"

"mhmm." you whine, tears beginning to prick the edges of your eyes. you're so frustrated and horny, and all you've been thinking about for the past month is jumping on matt rempe's cock, and you're too fucking weak to do it.

reassuringly, matt kisses you—firm and sweet. "that's okay, baby. I'll help you." with that, he begins moving you on his cock, slowly at first. "you've been such a good girl, y/n—fuck." soon enough you're back at the perfect rhythm, matt's cock hitting the spongy spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back.

the springs in the couch are squeaking relentlessly as matt thrusts up into you, making everything feel that much more erotic and satisfying. you slump against matt's chest, "oh my—yes." the coil in your stomach is on the verge of snapping, and matt can feel it. the way you're nothing but a whining, borderline sobbing mess—walls squeezing him rhythmically.

"you feel so fucking perfect." he grunts, thrusts increasing to an unfathomable speed as his own release approaches. one of his hands leaves your leg and comes around to your front, swiping along your neglected clit. "my little slut to ruin."

"oh shit." you shout, body freezing as your orgasm hits you at full force. the feeling of your body cumming around matt's length as him reaching his own peak, and he pulls from your warm, gooey walls. he pumps his dick three times before his load spews over your stomach, painting your skin with his cum—all while his other hand rubs your clit softly as you come down from your high.

matt's moans are like music to your ears—little breathless gasps and deep rumbling groans in his chest.your take your bottom lip between your teeth, looking down at the mess sprayed over your belly. before you can decide against it, two of your small fingers swipe over the cum, collecting it on your digits before bringing them up to your mouth and sucking it clean off.

matt watches the entire thing, breathless and jaw slack. you smirk around your fingers as his lip begins quirking up, and before you can blink, matt pulls your hand away from your mouth and kisses you.

you giggle into it, wrapping your arms around matt's neck as his lips caress yours. his hands slide up your back tenderly, pressing against your spine firmly and rhythmically—hitting your pressure points and making you melt.

his fingers slide up the base of your neck and into your hair, threading your locks through his fingers and giving them a firm tug. for a moment you're back in the elevator, matt untangling rings from your messy hair. who would've thought it would've lead to the best sex of your life.

matt smiles against your mouth before pulling away. "i'm getting your number this time." his voice and face is full of determination and love. he grabs your hand and kisses the back of it, eyes never leaving yours.

"I'd hope so." you grin.

and when matt guides you into the shower, where you blow him and then he takes you from behind—treating you to another orgasm, you don't think you ever want to leave.

[issues4him]

needy rafe = vocal rafe

cw : smut, 18+, cowgirl, choking, sub!rafe

rafe had been particularly needy today. he wasn’t sure why, but he literally just could not keep his hands off of you all afternoon. you didn’t let his clinginess go unnoticed, in fact, you were keeping track of all of his sweet touches today—like early this morning:

“rafe let me up i need to pee.” you whined as you attempted to lift your boyfriends two hundred pound body off of you.

“no.” his defiant answer was muffled into your neck. his big, muscular arms were wrapped around your waist, holding you tightly underneath of him. it felt like he was a large, scaley snake and you were the little rabbit being squeezed to death so he could eat you. obviously, instead of having your airways constricted by a slimy vermin, it was your boyfriend constricting your airways with his thick biceps. couldn’t really complain there. hm. maybe rafe and snakes were more similar than you thought.

he nuzzled his head further into the crook of your neck, making you giggle at the ticklish feeling. “y’cant move. not allowed.” he mumbled, planting small, set kisses onto your throat.

or when you were trying to get ready…

your eyebrows furrowed in concentration as you applied your mauve-colored lip liner. you heard a loud, dramatic sigh from outside the bathroom door, opening it to find rafe laying starfish position on the bed.

“you okay, buddy?” you asked, having to stifle a laugh at the site.

“jus’ don’t wanna go.” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes with his hands. you set your makeup down on the counter and stepped over to your shared bed, sitting on your legs next to him. your hands came to cup his face, feeling his stubble underneath your fingertips.

“but we need to, bubba. top’s really excited for us to meet his new girlfriend.” you reminded him, brushing out his fluffy eyebrow hairs with your index finger. his arm came to wrap around your waist, pulling you down onto his chest.

“should just stay here ‘n cuddle.” he laid his lips on your forehead, leaving soft kisses. you rolled your eyes in amusement—rafe the big, bad meanie was begging his girl to cancel their plans just to stay and cuddle with him. it was almost comical.

or when you were all at dinner…

“i’ll have the eggplant parmigiana, please.” topper said the the waitress, pointing at the entree on the menu. you suddenly felt a large, calloused hand on your thigh, just before the end of your dress. you glanced at rafe, giving him a quick smile before ordering your dinner.

“i’ll have the—oh!” you yelped out in surprise as rafe’s fingers came in contact with your pussy through your underwear. his fingers circled around, eventually finding the right spot. you looked at rafe then quickly back at the waitress with an apologetic smile. “sorry—i’ll have the baked cheese ravioli, please.”

as she left, you glared at rafe, silently telling him not to go any farther. but of course, it was rafe. he did not listen to you.

which is why you’re now here, tangled up together in the sheets of your bed:

“hmmnn…” your fiance hummed, head sinking into the pillow. his hands were tight at your hips, helping guide your movements—up, down, up, down.

his handsome face was contorted in pleasure, eyes screwed shut in pure bliss. “shit—baby y’feel so fuckin’ good,” his praises traveled straight to your tummy, the coil inside you threatening to break at any moment. “your pussy—fuck—‘s so wet sweetheart.”

you bent down to put your face into his, your hands snaked up his chest to wrap around his neck. “it’s all for you, handsome.” your grip around his neck tightened, causing his mouth to hang open in pleasure. his fingers clutched your wrist, anything to ease himself of the nearly-overwhelming pressure. rafe’s moans only got louder. “mm i-i can’t babe, i’m gonna cum.”

“give it to me, rafe, please.” you begged him, squeezing his neck harder, leaving half-moon shaped indents from your nails. your hips moved faster. your joints burned but you’d do anything to keep hearing his pretty moans.

“‘m cumming baby ‘m cumming—“ his breathless whines caused your eyes flutter shut, the intimacy and steaminess of the moment completely snapping the built up pressure inside of you.

your hips finally came to a halt and hands loosened around this throat. his dick finally stopped twitching inside of you as you collapsed beside him, absolutely worn out.

“i’m gonna need hip surgery before im 40.” you exhaled, not even able to keep your eyes open.

“poor girl.” rafe attempted to comfort you, but as he was just as worn out as you were, you had only earned a pat on the head.

the room fell silent, nothing but the sounds of your quiet, fast breaths. “thank you.” he said, his body turning to fall on top of yours.

“rafe no—it’s too hot, please get off!” you pleaded with him but, of course, it was rafe. he did not listen to you.

[theyluvpeach]

babes you ate DOWN with every sub!chris fic...now i need that same energy but with sub!matt...please i'll eyp

enjoy enjoy <3

hours and hours.

edging matt until he cries cause he looks pretty !!

warnings.ᐟ.ᐟ: edging. sub!matt. use of mama/mommy. dacryphilia.... thas abt it :)

"P...please." He hiccups. "Been..such a good boy." It's been hours since this started. If he did something that upset, he wishes you'd just tell him so he could apologize.

Every single time he twitches or bucks into your hand, you stop. The amount of pre-cum that has pooled between his legs is enough to fill up a bottle.

He whines as you stop again. He's so hard it hurts. "Mama— please—please—" You shut him up with a kiss, beginning to pump him again.

He moans into your mouth, eyes fluttering shut as you play with his sensitive head, teasing the slit, coaxing out the drops of pre-cum that bead at the tip. His legs are trembling, and his toes are curling in his socks. That's how good it feels.

"Please, Mommy— please!" He whimpers, tears welling up in his eyes as he bucks into your hand.

You stop. Matt's lip begins to tremble, tears starting to paint his face one after the other as he sniffles. "Oh, c'mon Matty." You caress his cheek, finally speaking to him after being slient for so long.

"I've been meaner to you, haven't I, baby?" His voice cracks as he sobs, "Wan' cum—" You kiss his tears away. "So dramatic." You coo. "I think you can take a little more..." You tease, stroking him softly.

He chokes on a sob. "I- Cant– I can't!" He attempts to grab at your hand. "You know your safe word." You pick up the pace, "Be a good boy and take it."

He covers his face with his arm, full-on weeping now. But that's just what you wanted. You wanted to see him crumble underneath you, see his eyes become all red and puffy. You pull his arm away from his face, wanting to the masterpiece you made.

You smile down at him, taking in the sight Matt is right now. Stray brunette locks pressing to his forehead, pouty lips, bloodshot eyes. Oh, he's too pretty.

"Mama's been mean, hasn't she?" You tilt your head at him, and he nods slowly. "Th.. thought," He hiccups, "You were mad at me." You jut your lip out. "I'm not mad.. I just wanted to see you like this." You pumping him faster, going back to teasing his slit. He gasps, "S- see me like— ah? This?"

You nod, feeling him twitch in your hand. "See you like this." He wails. "Ma– Mama– fu—k!" He grabs at the sheets, back beginning to arching off the bed. "Cum— I-I— mgonna—" He cries out.

"Cum for me Matt." He thrusts repeatedly into your hand before he's spilling all over your hand, the sheets, and his stomach.

"Happy now?"

He pants, "Mh...mhm."

tags 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚: @inspiredangel @domizzzsstuff @sosasturns @drewswife

[th3cadav3r]

NSFW JayVik Headcanons

content: mlm ship(could be m4m, m4tm, or tm4tm), penetrative sex, semi-public sex, mention of breeding kink, praise kink

author’s note: Sorry I’ve been gone for like a week, I’ve been recovering from a cold. I’m working on a much longer JayVik fic that someone requested so I figured that I’d just drop this simple little list of headcanons in the meantime. Enjoy!

Jayce’s favourite position when he’s topping is cowgirl. He always either places a pillow underneath Viktor’s bad leg or just holds it up gently for extra support. He also loves holding Vik’s tiny waist with his huge hands because it’s the hottest thing ever

His favourite position while bottoming is missionary. He loooves looking at his lover while he gets pounded like there’s no tomorrow

Viktor’s favourite position when he’s topping is doggy style, specifically him standing up while Jayce is bending over something(desk, bed, etc)

His favourite position when he bottoms is spooning. It puts no pressure on his bad leg plus this allows Jayce to moan and say FILTHY things in his ear

Speaking of Jayce saying filthy things, he will without a doubt say the most dirty things that come to mind and regret it immediately after the whole ordeal. It doesn’t help that Vik usually teases him about it

“What was it you said you’d do to me last night? ‘Breed me like a bitch in heat,’is that correct?”

“OH GODS WHY WOULD YOU REMIND ME”

Viktor on the other hand has nothing to regret because any filth that comes out of his mouth is always in Czech and he refuses to translate when Jayce asks what he said

Jayce moans really loud. He just can’t help it. Oftentimes Viktor will have no choice but to cover his mouth with his hand or make him bite down on something just to shut him up, especially when they’re fucking in the lab

Viktor on the other hand took a while to finally become comfortable with making noise. He used to stifle any noise that threatened to escape him, but nowadays he doesn’t mind letting Jayce know just how good he’s making him feel by way of whining and groaning

They were both already very familiar with each other’s bodies before their first time due to the many anatomical and biological studies that they’ve done on one another

During their first few times together, Jayce pretty much treated Viktor like he was made out of porcelain. He constantly checked in on him, asking if his leg was okay and if anything hurt etc. While it was very flattering that he was being so considerate, Viktor got a little tired of constantly having to reassure Jayce that he was fine. They talked about it afterwards and luckily Jayce is a quick learner so it wasn’t much of a problem

Sex is usually spontaneous. One second they’re going over equations and the next second one of them is bent over the desk with their ass high in the air

They’ve almost gotten caught several times by Heimerdinger and several others but does that stop them? Nope not at all

Jayce is a lot more focused on Viktor’s pleasure than his own. He’ll make sure that he cums at least three times before he finally allows himself to

It takes a lot for Viktor to cum. The only sensation that has been consistent in his life is intense pain—lots of effort has to be put in to make him feel something stronger than that. Luckily, Jayce knows him like the back of his palm—he knows how to make him feel pleasure that overrides the pain

They both definitely got emotional after their first time. It was nothing like either of them had ever experienced before, so they spent a good half an hour just holding each other afterwards

Jayce has really sensitive nipples. This is was discovered by accident, but now Viktor takes full advantage of this almost every time they get intimate

Jayce is an absolute sucker for praise. All Viktor has to do is pat his head or call him a good boy and he’ll get in the mood instantly

Aftercare is usually very light because Viktor falls asleep right after. But in the rare case that they’re both wide awake, they’ll just start building stuff together while still being completely nude

[megapteraurelia]

summary | yamaguchi tadashi got a piercing, and you have to try it out! (at his expense) warnings | graphic smut, fem!reader word count | 1480. a/n | i'm depraved. i love the idea of him being a pathetic mess, all messy and fucked out and sloppy and— i'm sorry, ok?? ahhhhh!!! i'm a LOSER AND I LOVE BABY BOY TADASHI and he would absolutely be the the whiniest boy ever also ignore any mistakes. it's late and do i look like i know how to english? please let me know what you think! -` ♡ ´-

“let me see,” you mumbled, fingers tugging on his waistband but his hands were clamped over yours, sweaty. 

“don’t, it will be too much,” he pleaded; eyes squeezed shut because fuck, he was so hard he could feel the pulse through his entire body. to have you touch him, look at you hollowing your cheeks, gaze hard and fierce on his face? fuck. “i won’t be able to take it.”

yamaguchi tadashi’s cheeks were flushed; the hand of yours hovering over his clothed dick warm, thumb daring to press down, right into the metal ring around his head.

“i’ll take good care of you, ‘dashi, mhm?” tone thick with lust, heat gathering between your legs at the thought of the piercing gliding inside of you, using it to stimulate your clit, losing your mind over it.

another weak attempt to ward you off, even though the heat in his groin licking at him from the inside was almost enough to make him break, “i won’t last that long.”

“you don’t last that long anyway, baby,” you smiled at him, teasing and loving, eyes lidded as you looked up at him from your knees, voice turning sinful, “though that means i’ll just have to make you cum and cum and cum all over again.”

his adam apple bobbed, strands of his hair already damp, and then a whine escaped him, half affirmative, half fearful. your hand sank down to palm him through layers of clothing, and tadashi’s chest expanded with air and a rising wave of arousal, exhale shaky as he expected the sensitivity to hit him. yamaguchi tadashi was like a little dog in heat, rutting his hips against your fingers because despite the panic, he was desperate.

so you gave him the extra pressure, the extra attention, mouth leaving little bites on his skin over the pants he wore, giving him other sensations to focus on.

“ng—hh, fu—huck,” tadashi gasped and moaned so prettily, body flushing closer to yours, eagerly rubbing his length along your hand; eyes squinted, brows furrowed and chest moving heavily. his fingers worked clumsily in tugging down his waistband, and you helped, nails scratching his flesh on accident because god, you wanted your mouth on him just as much as he wanted it. 

his eyes fluttered closed when he felt heat wrap around his tip as soon he sprung free, tongue rough and wet, gliding over his throbbing cock with ease, avoiding the piercing easily, until he was like butter under your fingers, begging, pleading, stuttering nonsense.

“plea—h-hease, ng—h,” head thrown back, neck glistening with sweat, fingers jittering as they struggled to fist your hair, his voice carrying need and embarrassment, “m—want t’feel your mmm—mouth all over.”

you allowed a breathy laugh to escape you, letting the air fan over the piece of metal pierced through the dark red, glistening tip before you carefully bit into the metal and tugged roughly.

a high-pitched, long drawn-out whine escaped him, hips thrusting up reflexively, out of his control, fingers letting go of your hair to touch the edge of the bed. the sheets curled underneath his fingers, and his mouth opened, a little line of drool trickling down his chin as he panted into the air — he was an absolute mess. the prettiest.

“oh, you like it, eh, baby?” letting a grin fool him, enveloping his dick in your mouth once again, letting him sink into wet heat, the ring rubbing against warm flesh. your tongue slid over his skin, swallowing around his length, heavy in your mouth; you wanted to drive him crazy and oh, how he had gone mad.

his arms were straining clutching the sheets, thorax heaving up and falling down hysterically, hips jerking around aimlessly, only wanting something to make him cum — it didn’t even need to be somebody. he could have rubbed his dick against the cushion and he would have gotten off in a second. 

but feeling the teeth softly graze his shaft, tongue swirling around the metal, hooking in the ring to pull—

tadashi’s face was locked into an art work, teeth biting his lower lip red and swollen, eyes squeezed shut, freckles adorning his face in the same way hickeys decorated his throat and he started twitching, shooting thick ropes of white into your mouth. the sounds coming out of his mouth were pathetic and pornographic, short and high, pants falling from his lips freely. he was so vocal, dissolving in front of you into a whimpering mess.

so much so that you couldn’t help drawing out more from his sensitive tip, the pain and pleasure intertwining in his loin at the tug on the ring, the irritated skin around it glaring an angry red; each touch eliciting a shudder, tears like pearls on his lashes, “p—plea—nhghn. i can’t, i ca—” a hiccup interrupting him, “— han…t.”

more and more, wanting to paint his dick purple, leaving galaxies all over the glistening skin, you took and took from him, leaving him with heaving sobs and drool, pink cheeked, blubbering nothings, quivering in your mouth, again and again until yamaguchi tadashi had no other choice but to come undone at your will.

having crashed backwards onto the bed, tadashi was too spent to lift his hips to meet you halfway, but you didn’t mind, thighs slick with his cum and your own, muscles burning as you heaved up and sank down again, mindlessly chasing another high, the ring dragging deliciously slow against you, little moans aimlessly leaving your mouth.

he was watching you with lidded eyes through his lashes, fingers grasping your legs weakly, abdomen spasming at the overstimulation as his cock twitched inside of you, like it was all a reflex, like he couldn’t help but react anyway. like his staring at you was a front only, not a single thought behind that cute forehead, just seeing and reacting.

your skin met his in sharp slaps clumsily, messily; wetness sounding out, sticky, and through tadashi’s open mouth came quiet noises, “h—ah, hhngh, a—aah”, like he didn’t have control over his vocal cords either, no control over the hyperventilation forcing his chest to breathe too fast; the blush on his face deepening because despite everything, his nerves were burning, his dick still so painfully hard and leaking constantly, his tip on fire, wounded, and his hips jerking at the sloppy kiss you shared with him.

“nh, ‘dashi,” your throat raw from how deep you had taken him earlier, tongue licking up his spit, his jaw, adding another bruise to your canvas, “i— hh, ‘m gonna cum.”

his freckles were going under in the pink, and his pruney fingers lifted weakly, like a command, to graze the little nub hidden, to add another layer of featherlight touch to help you, and it didn’t take long. the strain of your muscles enhanced the swapping feeling in your stomach, rising to fog your brain, to force an onslaught of sensation over you as you tipped your head back, voice cutting out into nothing when another orgasm came crashing over you.

legs having given out, you sat on his dick with his finger still caressing you, still giving you something to squirm about, until your voice resembled the whines he had given you earlier, and you allowed yourself to slump over him, to trap his hand between your bodies, limiting his movement.

“i can’t,” you murmured into his lips, and the way he kissed you back was tired and sluggish, barely responding, only “mhmm-hm” leaving his mouth.

your lips met his again, soft, sweet, kissing his mouth, their corners, his cheeks, his cheekbones, his nose, his freckles, and your voice was just as airy as your pecks, “cute ‘dashi, you’re so cute all fucked out like this.”

“s—stop,” he blushed harder than he should have, and the red looked delicious underneath the blue and purple on his throat and neck.

“we should —,” you couldn’t stop kissing him, couldn’t stop your hands from brushing his hair away from his face to see the sincere look in his eyes, couldn’t stop from sending a similar one back, his body warm and sticky underneath yours. he pulled his hand out from between you both, fingers slinging around your back to flush you close even though not a lick of air could even fit between your skin, “— clean up, baby.”

“you’re so pretty. so unbelievably pretty,” he only responded instead, voice shy and soft, and hid his face in your neck, “i’ll clean in a second, just stay like this. please.”

“cute ‘dashi.”

his protesting whine was muffled against your skin, his hips squirming when you shuffled around, body jerking as he hugged you a bit harder, embarrassment strong in his voice, “please stop moving, pretty, i can’t — “

you complied for a few seconds before moving, testing, a giggle ready burst out. a strangled, pretty whine, “ah—hhan—gh. please—”

[l3viat8an]

Putting a collar ‘n leash on Lucifer <3

[sugucide]

one thing about satoru gojo is that he's a freak.

he'll try anything once, and then three more times for good measure. anything! as long as it ends with him emptying his balls, prefer on or inside of you, he's a very happy man to entertain your weird requests.

this, though, is too weird!

"you want to have vanilla sex?" he gawks at you.

you're laying back on his bed, bare and smiling up at him as he climbs over you. he's hard, sure, but he's not flooded with the excitement of your usual ideas.

"why don't i put the collar back on?" he suggests tapping the tip of your nose. "oh! or we could play with those candles again... or you could make me squirt... no? roleplay? anal? some music, at least?"

you shake your head, and if you weren't so damn cute satoru might be more upset than he is. "you know," you start, "plenty of couples have plain sex regularly. i just want to feel you."

"we aren't like most couples," he grimaces. "im the strongest. and you're the sexiest. i don't think she's physically capable of having boring sex with you, baby."

"stop calling your dick a she," you stare up at him. "please? you said you'd try anything."

satoru kisses your lips gently, as boringly as he can do without getting too worked up. you are naked underneath him, after all. "i said that hoping you'd propose pegging me. or letting me put that dildo of yours down your throat while i—"

"just fuck me," you whisper.

and because satoru is secret a lover before he is a freak, he complies. with a gentle nod and a few seconds to line himself up with you, he pushes inside and lets you lock your legs around his waist before he starts a gentle pace with you.

it feels good, of course, it's you. but there's something sweet to the way he fucks you— no, makes love to you, that isn't there when gags and blindfolds and candle wax are in the way. it's just you and him, eyes locked as he becomes whole with you in the most intimate way possible.

he realises, when your eyes flutter shut and you pull him impossibly closer to whisper sweet nothings in his ear, that he might just like boring sex.

"i love you so much," he coos. "like having you like this. just us. god i love you, baby. i think i needed this."

the two of you cum in sync with eachother. you shake and tighten around his cock and he spills into you with sweet moans that sound a little more raw and vulnerable than they usually do. he kisses you silly, peppers his lips all over your face until you're laughing underneath him.

and he pulls back to look at your face, and nods to himself. you smile, and push his white hair out of his face with a gentle tilt of your head.

"what's that look for?" you ask.

and that's when you notice the tears welling in his eyes. the tremble of his lip as he recognises a million different feelings at once. and with a sniffle, and a shaky breath, he grins.

"let's get married."

[tonycries]

P*SSY POWER!

Synopsis. Jujutsu powers are to be used only in battle? Funny.

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

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, using their powers in bed, ratio technique, unlimited void, overstím, dúmbification, PÚSSYDRÚNK MEN, creampíes, p talking, p spánking, reverse cursed technique, MARATHONS, bIood manipulation, cúmplay, ínappropríate use of cursed techniques, cervíx kíssing, true form Sukuna, dp, SUKUNA’S SECOND MOUTH, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. PHEW I just had to…

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - SUPERHUMAN!

Toji’s powerful pounds didn’t just leave you stupid - they left you in shambles. 

Vulgar, thorough strokes where all it takes is a few handfuls before he’d already broken your creaking bedframe, your desk, your couch - and you were probably not all that far behind.

Not when Toji was still unstopping. Still not even slowing down - he needs more. 

And he’s rolling his willowing eyes with a husky tch, not even breaking a sweat when scooping up your tiredly boneless body with just a singular big, beefy arm. Scarred smirk curling, “Ya have some real cheap furniture, doll.”

“N-no I don’t-” Your barely coherent syllables aren’t as meaningful as you’d like them to be when you sounded so ruined. “You just hafta stop using your pow- ah!”

“Huh, what was that?” In mere sultry nanoseconds, he’s splaying you out unashamedly right then and there on your bedroom floor. Two engulfing palms positioning underneath your jittery thighs to throw them over his broad shoulders and bend- “Seriously- better hope I break you before I break this heh- floor.”

Before you can even open your mouth to retort, Toji’s taking all the pleasure to smear open your desperately bloated pussy lips with one prying thumb. The fat curvature of his fingerpad drawing ravenous lines up and down your bawling slit.

“Well helloooo, ma, how are ya doin’?” He’s biting down on his plump lower lip, guiding the bulky crown of his mushroomy tip to press innocent peck after peck where you were the most swelteringly hot. “Missed you these p-past…three seconds.”

“Stop teasing n’ just p-put it in, Toji–” you’re huffing out in clouded pants, dangling ankles locking around the back of Toji’s sweat-sheened neck in an effort to try and get him to do something. 

“First yer telling me ta take it fuckin’ slow, now yer begging for it-” He’s scoffing sassily, superhuman reflexes blocking the cute punches you don’t even get to think of landing on his puffed-up chest. “Seriously- ya should be more honest…like this pretty pussy o’ yours.”

And you’re just about to babble away about why he’s nodding in conversation with the saturated slurps from down below. Emanating where he was drawing leaky little hearts right on your slick-flooded entrance with the very globe of his swollen tip. Just about to.

Before you feel so full you think you’re being bludgeoned into your very lungs-

“This all you can take?” Toji’s chuckling out, but you can already see the way his handsome face beads with pearly dewdrops of perspiration. The way the edges of his sleazy smile twitch into something more simpering, more drunken. “Come on- come on come on- just one more inch.”

Blinking up at him with lashes lathered in overstimulated tears, “J-just one more?”

Well, a few more copious inches more like - but you were already too struck by the blissful massage of Toji’s bumpy veins probing into your sweetest spots to realize.

Already cockdrunk.

“Mhmm—” Toji’s nodding along, bending and jostling your body according to every whim and want. He loved how you were simply putty in his hands. Mouth watering at the lazily oozing sprinkle of cum beading out from the ends of your slit, one he can’t help but swab a few fingers along and plug into your parched mouth with a greedy plop! “S-so you jus’ sit here n’ let your ah- Toji here take care of the biiiig stretch, hm?”

Taking everything that he was giving - wanting more. You were yearning for him, and every heated fat inch of his girth bullied past your elastic ring only made your insides feel even hotter. 

Needier. 

“H-heh fuuuck yeah that’s it-” Throwing his head back, you could feel the way that every delirious ah! spilling from between your pathetically parted lips only made his rotund strawberry end twitch inside of your glutinous walls. Bumping into the excess dredges of cum sugarcoating you from just before. “-fuuuck take it l-like a good girl-”

And fuck no, Toji Fushiguro wasn’t just talk - he walked the walk and he owned it.

But it’s times like this - when your clingy walls were sticking ‘round his girthy cylindrical shaft like a soppy second skin. When your mushy pussy lips give his toned abdomen a quick mwah! Finally all inside. All surrounded by you once more.

It’s times like this when he finds his breath hitching-

Thick brows furrowing darkly, Herculean pecs hefting up and down vigorously. And if you were in any better state of mind, you’d have registered the complete n’ utter whine in Toji’s rumbling bass, “F-finally.”

SLAM!

And it’s so easy for him to let his massive palm come striking down onto your polished floor and make a crater. Barely even using a fraction of his superhuman strength, but your heavenly pussy was just driving him out of control. 

Whoops, he’s cracking a droopy eye open to gaze upon the perfect outline of each of his fingers indented permanently onto your floorboards. You really are a dangerous, dangerous-

“Oh?” That ferally cocky look on Toji’s sexy features never boded well for you or your poor cunt, and without another word he’s splaying out a few calloused fingers on top of your tummy. Huffing, “Yer close already- new record, huh, doll?”

How- how the hell did he know before you?

And at this moment you’re too far gone to even remember that Toji’s extra strength also meant extra heightened senses. 

Already feeling the tightly coiling ball building up inside your tummy when he’s reeling his slutty hips back to plant a bruising ram straight onto the bullseye of your cervix.

Hit after hit.

They’re battering.

You’re sure you’d be flying lengthy feet across your floor if it hadn’t been for one of Toji’s palms clasping onto the very top of your head and pushing you even further down all his copious inches. Feeding you with slobbering thuds gifted right into the back of your gooey pussy that you feel all the way up at your fuzzy mind.

Maw slagging open with such great difficulty to mumble, “T-Toooji- I’m-”

“Close?” He’s cutting you off, running one flirtatious thumb over the plump peak of your clit. Each and every syllable interrupted by his favorite punctuation mark - a good, vicious jackhammer of his angry cock. “Yeah yeah, I know- m’girl should be cummin’ in…three…two…one-”

Ah, right on time, Toji’s musing. Boring his half-lidded verdant eyes down at you when you’re falling apart all over his girthy length.

Spritzing geysers of your orgasm formulating a dribbling sheen all the way down to his hefty base, adhesive walls gripping around his bulk so tightly that Toji almost finds himself tutting about what a tight fuckin’ fit your pretty pussy was.

And he only gets harder - faster. Fucking you through your high until you’re crashing into more orgasms upon orgasms. 

Nails dragging red raking patterns across his heavily toned back, and he can already feel himself slowly losing his grip. 

Shaggy black bangs sticking to the tender crook of your neck once Toji lets out a gasp and lets his head loll, peeking canines digging into your heated flesh. Pistoning you with such devious thwacks and spatters of buttery pre into your most forbidden insides, the sheer force behind Toji’s heavenly gift has both of you feeling raw. 

And it’s just about all he can do right about now to look at the slight indentations on your wood-covered floors and scoff. Just in time for his blushing crownhead to dangerously twitch, “Dammit, the floor’s still not broken, ma…yet.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Target practice.

It only takes a few vulgar hits of Nanami’s thoroughly bloated cockhead into the cushy target of your g-spot before you’re rendered completely speechless. 

Utterly fucked dumb with every recoiling clash of his rounded mushroom tip, skidding along that particular geysering orifice over n’ over like he was trying to brand it with his exact circumference. 

And you can’t do anything but strain your knees further and take it-

“K-Kentooo—” You’re scrambling to burrow your nails further into the cool mahogany platform of his office table when you cum for the nth time tonight. Veins boiling, eyes sliding to the very back until they were pure ivory, splatters of saliva waterfalling never-endingly from the corners of your mouth. 

“Droolin’ again, my love?” Nanami’s cooing, engulfing palm budging upwards to smear away that overspilling lather. Clammy ends of his fat thumb pry your lips gently shut so that he can plant an innocent peck. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing- ah- nothing–” It’s a wonder you could mumble even that. Hips perking with every shockwave into an angle that might somehow help keep your sanity, might somehow have your husband’s merciless jackhammers missing- As if he would ever miss. “Just so…”

So much. Too much.

And no matter how much you’re trying to pathetically escape - it only results in you being manhandled by a gruff Nanami into every pliable position he could think of.

You feel like you could almost sob when your husband is tutting away from behind you, drawling out a long, long condensed puff of breath by your ear - before curling a hand around your throat and ramming. 

You swear you hear the crackle and pop! of cursed energy halting every atom in the air.

Blond brows knitting together at just how snug of a fit it was, “Use your ngh- big girl words, darlin’. I know you can.”

But oh, it feels like anything but with the way that Nanami was punishing you with so many heavy-handed pounds and pounds that had you whining. Babbling away, “Can’t- ngh- caaan’t-”

“Sure you can.” One more slam. Then another. And another. “You’re my clever girl, riiight?”

Your head lolls half-lucidly backwards against his broad shoulder, bumping into every ridge of his flexing muscles. Throat exposed just right for him to sink a few neat marks of his teeth. Bite after greedy bite. It makes your drunken tongue lacquer out even more stupidly thick wads of dribble before you can finally answer, “Your- your…cursed technique.”

Ah, you should’ve known that this would happen when your husband was an expert in the ratio technique out of everything. 

And, well, you did. You’d begged for it, in fact - and who was Nanami Kento to go against anything that his dear wife wished for? Whatever you wanted, you got.

Even if you found your melty mind ruined. Incoherent thoughts swirling around dizzily with every mush of his plummy, split-ended shaft right into your saccharinely sweetest spots. Such masterful motions.

“T-told you I’d be a little…rough.” Nanami’s whispering, and you can feel the deep vibrato of his chuckle against your back. Shoving you with every glissade of those sculptured pecs up and down up and down- “Don’- don’t tell me you wanna stop?”

Of course, you didn’t.

And Nanami sounded oh-so-devastated at the very idea. 

Rasping baritone tremoring with something feral…dangerous once he only hiked up one muscular thigh to leverage those powerful thrusts even more ruthlessly. Jujutsu powers pressuring your bodies and making your skin break out in goosebumps.

Like he couldn’t stop. 

Couldn’t - flexing hips out of control every time he was hitting the very backs of your candied pussy with a gummy thwack! Just that split-second of bouncy recoil enough to make Nanami hiss and sink back in ravenously for more more more-

“N-noo–” You’re gasping out once his stern mouth entraps the especially tender skin just below your ear - because with Nanami’s 7:3 powers it didn’t just mean that he knew every sweetest spot inside. He knew each and every one inside, outside, everywhere and anywhere he had to worship to drive you wild. “Jus’ feels too good th-think m’gonna cum again-”

“Awww, my pretty wife can’t heh- handle it?” Such gentle words accompanied by a rough few critical hits right into those magical spots. One. Two. Three. Pap-pap-papping away repeatedly at the velvety sponge of your walls. “S’alright, darlin’, cum.”

When you do it’s with a drawling Kentoooo that rings across his four-cornered office and his ears his favorite song. Your high nothing more than just a few tingling shockwaves that leave you breathless.

And before you can even say a word, Nanami’s shrugging off that familiar yellow tie dangling haphazardly from around his bobbing Adam’s apple. So warm and smelling of his raw masculine musk when he wordlessly tilts your pretty face and muffles you with it.

“Hngh!” You’re hiccuping, when Nanami wraps the ribbony extra fabric of his tie around one staggering hand and pulls. Arching you deliciously into an almost-perfect semi-circle against his feverishly hot front.

Tying off a cute bow at the back of your head, “Shhh sh sh- s’alright. S’alright, dear.” Nanami’s fingers work fast, but his hips are even faster. Not stuttering or slacking off for even a second when he rewards you with a few lazy probes of his veined shaft massaging into your innermost core. “Kento’s here, Kento’s here. Hold onto your Kento, m’kay?”

It’s just about all that you could do - dangling hands latching around his sweat-dampened blond locks and pulling. 

And you swear that only made him plunge in even deeper. You could count every thrumming imprint of his lightning bolted veins. You swear you could feel your knees weaken with the weight of his thick, syrupy strings of buttery pre warming up your insides. 

Only for Nanami to position his thighs directly underneath your own and push and push, fucking you until your heels were almost hanging in midair-

“Jus’ ta keep anyone from overhearin’ those beautiful noises.” He’s humming away, finally finishing up with the knot to let off one big smooch onto your lips through the muzzle. “Because now…m’not gonna go easy on ya, my love. And I plan on hitting the bullseye riiiight–” Globed end of one index straying up, up, up until he was pressing down onto your very womb. He already knew his target. ”-here”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Munchies

“Ohhh, gorgeous–” Geto’s pinkish tongue was so long swiping its way across his plumpened lips, colored with a glossy treacle of your own sappy juices. Enough of it clinging onto his pretty face that it almost makes you feel shy. “-you taste even heh- sweeter than usual. Are ya ovulating?”

You’re squirming your hips - uselessly, of course. 

Barely even able to arch your spine in even a slight degree off of Geto’s face before he’s pulling you back to sit on it with one big, beefy forearm around you’d just tried to steal away his favorite sweet treat.

“S-Sugu—”

But he’s relentless - drunk. Still eating you out through your flimsy, bunched-up mess of sheer panties with such utter greed.

Earning a hot kiss against the perked hood of your clit, twice more. Thrice. Five more times until Geto can even bear to part with a resoundingly loud smooch! “Now now, don’t tell me that pretty lil’ head of yours is fucked dumb enough ta think that you can ah- run away?”

Because the only thing meaner than Geto Suguru’s mouth was the way he made out with your cunt. In a way that no one else ever could.

Years upon years of swallowing curses always made him such an expert for when he had wrapped around his cerise lips was much…sweeter. 

Enough so that you’d caught him many, many times with his five-o’-clock shadow bleached a tawny golden because of your pussy. And he wore it like a medal of honor. 

You’re flinching at the splat! of a syrupy rivulet of saliva hitting smackdab onto the most tender parts of your slit, and the ruggedly fat part of Geto’s thumb flicks away the messy wads. Swirling around in lazy circles over and over, “Got nothin’ ta say for yourself, huh?”

“I c-can’t—” Fisting fingers rovering into the dampened roots of his long, inky locks, you only have to pull for Geto’s sharp jaw to hang slack with a barely-there mewl. “-because it feels too-”

SMACK!

“Was talkin’ to her, y’know?” He’s rolling his eyes, free set of digits curling into the rubbery orifice of your cunt and dredging out such a spraying geyser that lathers every inch of his lower face. “Isn’t that right, my girl?”

You can’t even look away, heart racing when he’s nodding and humming along as much as possible as if he was in conversation with your soaked cunt. 

Geto was ruined - eyes half-lidded and locked only down there, face veiled in a hot maidenly blush, it’s like he was on the very verge of cumming himself. 

Steady fingers lustrous and drenched with all your mess when Geto’s curling them around your sensitive nub to give a good pinch. He’s babbling away, “This turn ya on? Heh- just kidding…of course, this turns ya on.”

God, he could already feel the way something hot and melty floods his veins when your sloppy cunt only lathers in another sheeny coating of honeyed slick. Motioning in slobbering grinds up and down up and down up and down the flat plane of his roughened tastebuds.

Head thrown back, thighs burning with aching fatigue. You were milking yourself on him, and he could use this cute cunt of yours to wash out his expert mouth any day. 

Geto was in heaven. And you think you were close - very, very close. 

“Hck! Fuck—” Your maw parts into an uncontrollable oh! once Geto’s sharp button nose presses down on the soppy target of your clit. And his tongue only bullies between your folds to peak it’s way upwards, “I’m so-”

“What? Already?” He’s tugging ever-so-slightly harder at the puffed-up lips of your perfectly pouted pussy, angling even deeper. More. Slippery muscle smushing against your gummy walls and colliding repeatedly against the most tenderest spot that he could reach. “Hear that? She says- haaaah- that you’re gonna cum already. Might as well jus’ fuckin’ use me, huh.”

You’re whimpering once his jaw grinds up so far into your swivelling mounds that you think you might bruise. Extra gapingly flexible with his technique. 

A steady stream of sappy juices bubble down the slacked corners of his mouth, reaching anywhere and everywhere it could - his handsome cheekbones, his jaw, his neck-

“Oh my god-” And it’s a fucking wonder that you could even manage to formulate your spinning thoughts into coherent words. Two palms latching desperately onto his flowing tresses, your eyes latching onto him, “M’gonna- ah- Suguru, m’gonna c-”

But oh, you didn’t think that was the end of it - did you?

It never would be when he’s plopping you cleanly off of his ruthless mouth with two massive palms hoisted onto the small of your back and a sickly saccharine mwah!

Before you can even blink, you feel the delicious stretch of being split apart.

Of having Geto rip off the now-tattered remnants of your panties. Before letting his rounded, right-leaning cockhead bustle with three exact spanks to your treacly slit, sinking past your slick-flooded entrance - so hot and hefty. 

You’re being stuffed with so many inches upon bulky inches that you swear you could feel him poke into the edges of your lungs. Bloated mushroom head puffing up with greedy ounces of blood even more swollen until you can only keen. 

Grappling to fasten your nails into the cushioned padding of Geto’s generous pecs-

“Just kidding…” He’s bringing up a hand to sniff your sodden panties, and you swear there’s a raspy tremble of pure awe in Geto’s rich voice. Full lower lip being bitten at the sight of your ravaged pussy soaked and bulging around just halfway through his angrily aching length. “L-lemme stare into those pretty eyes when you hah- cum on my cock.”

You can’t help but shuffle your hips for more more more- “S-so big- fuck! Wh-what if it doesn’t fit?”

“Nuh uh, gorgeous–” Geto doesn’t know what’s louder - the waterlogged plap! of his sap-covered fingerpads gifting your stuffed hole with another thickly viscous volume of spittle, or the sound of his own heartbeat thundering. Amethyst irises so unabashedly turned into heart-eyes when he shoots you with a soft, simpering grin. And you swear the edges of his faintish scruff were already bleached copper- “-my good girl s’gonna ngh- take it.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Blood, Sweat, Tears

“C-can I please, baby-” Choso’s panting out through murked clouds of breaths, dewy mahogany eyes staring deeply up into yours. His cutely quivering lip only makes you evermore drenched, “Can we go…again?”

Oh, Choso just couldn’t get enough of you. He thinks he probably never could - not even after hours upon hours upon hours of you riding him fucking stupid like this.

Couldn’t get enough of the way your soppy walls were clinging onto his lazily softening cock with the tightest of French kisses. So warm and wet inside that he could feel your teary slit trickle down a splotchy puddle of slick and sappy cum all down his sweat-shimmered abs. 

And Choso - poor, blushing Choso - simply glazes his fingers to slip n’ slide all down the glossy load of your mess before perking his honeyed fingertips into his mouth-

Sucking - gazing drunkenly dead straight into your eyes. He was ruined. “Please- can I use…that, ma’am?”

Your fluttering cunt clenches around those probing fat veins of his, nudging his blossoming fat tip to glissade riiight across the bruised target of your pulpy g-spot. Humming, “Choso, baby, are you sure?”

Choso’s never been more sure in his entire life. 

“Ngh- yes—” Comes out the breathy slew of an answer, and Choso can’t help but let his handsome buttoned nose crinkle ever-so-slightly once numerous digits of his curl around the bulky circumference of his base. Maw falling slack when that only makes his strawberry divot overfill your goopy insides with a few more steaming hot lathers of his buttery remnants of cum. “I can- I will. N-not gonna let you ngh- down, my baby. Really wan’ just one more, p-please?”

Fuck, you loved it whenever he begged like this. 

And how could you ever say no to that face?

All that it takes for you to roll your hips a few more inches in an ever-deepening angle and nod, all that it takes for the atoms in the sickly sweet air around you to pressurize. 

Stilling your body like it was stuck in molasses before that sexy line tattooed across Choso’s fucked-out features grows-

“F-fuuuuck-” He’s groaning out, baritone timbre cracking with something pained. Desperate. And positioned deliciously on top of him like this, you could practically feel the jujutsu power Choso uses to make himself harder. 

“Will it-”

“Trust me- trust me, baby–” Spitting out through hiccuping swabs of all his staggering length inside you, “I-it’s gonna work- it- ngh- has to…need to fuck you again, baby. Need to be inside–”

It only takes a few more filthy strokes before bit by bit - inch by inch - your tautly stretched walls were being stretched to their limits once more.

“Cho-”

“Jus’ a liiittle more-” He chokes out, “-a little- harder.”

Feeling the throbbing weight of Choso’s shaft only get thicker. So swelteringly hot and girthy when he’s mazing open the gluey orifices of your drooling cunt, rounded tips of his soft digits latching onto your waist and mushing your hips in languid circles round n’ round.

It was a damn good thing that Choso’s technique was just as lecherous as he was. And you almost wondered if he could go on for days - because he was exactly pounding into you like he could.

“Shiiit, Cho-” Your head tumbles backwards with a delirious gasp! when the fleshy mounds of your hips plap! plap! plap! down with sticky stings after each and every battering ram. Nails clawing precariously onto the mountainous curve of his well-defined deltoids, “Th-think you’re even harder than you were ngh- before.”

Ah, he’s slipping out a thickly viscous few gumdrops of pre already down the slippery ends of your cervix. Toned hips jittering up so viciously into yours that you can almost spy the reddening marks formulating across his slender waist like a permanent branding.

“So- so it feels good?” He’s breathing out, like a mantra. You’re being bored at with complete and utter loving in Choso’s tear-welled eyes. “D-does my pretty baby feel gooood w’me inside?”

Tangling your fingers into the silken strands of chestnut brown plastering all over his smooth forehead, ever-perspiring with just how much Choso was focusing his energy. His power. 

You crane your spine into the perfect curvature to plant a saccharine peck right here, something that only makes him whimper. “Mhm– feel s-so good, Cho. You’re doing so well.”

“Really?” He’s blinking those teary lashes in a way that makes you coo at how adorable he was, “M’I hard enough? The blood manipulation is- good?”

“More than hngh- good, baby–” Chuckling at the way that every word only makes his rounded, cum-filled balls thwack! up into you even more riotously. Tight globes of fat squeezing so solidly that Choso has to suck on your blemished lips to even keep his fucking sanity. But that never stopped you. “I love it.” 

Fuck- fuck.

What you certainly didn’t expect was for that little comment to have Choso’s entire Herculean body stiffening, his eyes twinkling with bulbously pearly tears of overstimulation. Sprinkles of sheeny drool sloshing out of the pouty corners of his lips when he’s letting his hang open with a cry of, “N-nooo- wait-”

You’re intertwining your hands with his and it makes his heart race, damn near sending him over the edge. But what really does it are your next words, “I love you, Choso.”

Bumping spheroid of his bloated mushroom cockhead curving up right into the knocking entrance of your womb before he’s heaving. Hunching. 

Before he can only cum-

“Wh-why are you s-soooo–” Choso’s letting his coral pink lips pull back into something that looks almost as feral as a snarl. Is as feral as a snarl. Lolling head faltering into the tender crook of your neck, you almost flinch at just how steamily warm the feverish blush on his cheeks were. Accompanied by the drizzle of something wet n’ warm that you’re sure were delicate tears, “-why do you- d-do this t’me.”

And the abuse of his blood manipulation only made Choso’s tipping point even higher. 

Such massive torrents of cum already flooding into the bottom of your slobbery pussy until you were much, much more than completely filled till and past your puffed-up pussy lips. 

“L-love you-” He’s hissing at the extra sensitivity, sparks of white and heaven and you exploding with bliss behind his scrunched eye-lids. “Love you love you- ngh-”

Choso’s basically melting into you, bulging biceps wrapping around your body so tightly you could count every copious bump and flex of his muscles. You were so stuffed that you felt fit to burst, and Choso’s only managing out husky breaths watching the goblets of creamy ribbons paint rings upon rings around his seething red cock. 

Almost as if on autopilot when he dips down one hand to smear across the decorative slather of ivory white, popping it with a wet fwop! into his greedy mouth. He couldn’t help it.

And by the bolting voltage of jujutsu busting in the heady air, and the rugged twitch of Choso’s treacly-topped head - you already knew what he was about to ask next.

“Baby…just one more?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - BOAF?

“Both? Both?” And despite just how sleazily mocking Ryomen Sukuna’s smirk was, you could hear the way his rumbling bass lilted at the end. Octaves higher. You could feel the tight swell of his breeder balls perk up against your drooling pussy at those particular words, “Keh…so the lil’ human wants both, huh?”

And oh, your sickly saccharine mind had no idea how he was so agile even when towering well above seven feet. 

So staggeringly large - with four big, beefy arms, and two angrily swollen cocks that were more than matching. A monstrous second mouth slashed across about halfway down his incredibly toned abs, drooling and licking its greedy lips just at the heavenly sight of you.

So big. 

So…extra. 

Sukuna was made to ruin you.

Rendering you dizzy already when he flips your positions to splay-out like such a slut underneath you on the king-sized bed. The king of curses giving you power over him. 

The only one he would give it to - not that he would admit it, of course.

Pastel pink hair crowning out like a halo on the decadent silken sheets, Sukuna’s jerking his handsome chin at you like a challenge. One thick brow raising, “So?” Barely even giving you the time to register being letting off a solid spank on the rounded curve of your ass, “Fuckin’ show her t’me.”

“S-so mean…” you’re grumbling, though it’s more to hide the steaming burn of your cheeks when you’re jostling your knees to strain around his waist even further. To show him exactly the heated core he wanted.

Shit, if this was anyone but Ryomen Sukuna then he thinks he could’ve fucking cum from just this. 

The sight of your pretty pussy all puckered and ready to give his cock a big smooch, your swollen folds positively trickling with a neverending rivulet of sticky sap.

He can’t help but drag out a few thickened fingerpads along your syrupy slit, the sharpened textures of his elongated nails making you whimper. 

“Phewww- what a slutty pussy.” Sukuna grins - grins at the way you’re squirming and twitching all on top of him. How cute. “Now, stretch her wiiide open f’me, brat. Lemme see if she can really take heh- both.”

You can see the way that Sukuna’s strawberry-red divots start bawling the very moment you’re plunging in a few trembling fingers past your flooded entrance to present just how badly you wanted him - both of him. Warm, streaming dredges of creamy pre forming a slippy cap on both mushroomed tips. 

Ones that drag slowly between your soppingly wet lips when Sukuna curls a singular hand around his bulky bases, messy and painting your pretty pussy soaked. And another hand to latch onto his favorite spot at your waist.

“Hmmm, fine-” There’s something dark in his hiccuped words, something that makes your toes curl at the way that Sukuna’s boring up at you with devilishly red eyes. “You’ve proven yourself- heh- now ride me, woman.”

You didn’t know who wanted your sloppy pussy to take up every one of Sukuna’s inches more - you or him. 

Because you’re only letting your snug ring of muscle slip n’ slide a drenched trailway only about half an inch down Sukuna’s cylindrical girths before he’s doubling over with a gasp. Before he’s choking out a shaken, “Oh- Ohhhh shit s’tight-”

You’re flinching at the sloshing pool of something so sweltering hot that weighs down your drooly entrance - thick, ribbony spurts of what you thought was precum. What you thought.

But a singular sneaking glance downwards made your heart stutter, a fucked-out little smile of smug satisfaction breaking out across your features when you’re spotting those voluminous ounces of creamy white. Pulpy goblets of white that seep down into a settled ring at the dual bases of Sukuna’s achy lengths. 

You’re breathing out in disbelief, “Did- did you-”

“Shut the fuck up.” Sukuna snarls, elongated canines beared from both sagging maws before his secondary tongue lolls out and slurps up every stringy wad of cum with a deafening squelch. Pushing and pulling to alternate between letting it sliiiide all down his throat and fucking it back into your leaky hole.

So nasty - tasting himself. Tasting you. 

How you loved his cursed body.

You can only gape as he plants numerous other spanks onto the fleshy mounds of your ass with a sharp thwack! thwack! thwack!

“Shut up and-” And you can’t help but ogle the way every perfectly defined muscle on Sukuna’s Herculean body flexes when he jerks his hips and bucks. “-and- t-take it- all- ride me.”

“Kunaaaa–” You’re still feeling the swashing splotches of seed trickle out from you with every one of Sukuna’s dabbing thrusts just to fit inside. More and more - he always came so much. But with two cocks? It was double the torrential waves taking over your steaming insides. “-s’okay to cum earli-”

But, oh, whatever Sukuna wanted - he got. And right now all he wanted was for you to shut that pretty lil’ mouth of yours.

Manifesting his cursed mouth onto one of his free palms before covering the lower half of your face and making out with you. Swabbing the lustrous muscle into the heated cavern of your mouth, you can only gurgle and suck-

“Remember yer talkin’ to yer king, ya puny thing-” Letting him lick up spattered excesses of spittle bubbling from the drunken corners of your mouth with each inch after incredible inch that you were milking. “Shut up and- ride me. Milk me.” More. More. Until you felt like the bustling stretch of your adhesive-like walls would end up with you exploding. “-so ya better be a good fuckin’ girl f’me. And if ya are…”

Sukuna’s tone was just dripping with barely-held back desperation, words tight. Deep.

And the only thing deeper was just how thoroughly inside he was rummaging your gooey channel, pressing an innocent peck against the pulpy exterior of your cervix with a heaving ram. 

Battered and bruised over and over when he sinks in-

“O-oh–” Sukuna’s ravaged lips fall open ever-so-slightly, delicate wires of saliva formulating and snapping from his own mouth now. Brows furrowing, he huffs out a sudden gasp at the sight before him, “If- if ya- ohhhh–” 

But, shit, he was so fucking pussydrunk now.

From the way your slobbering cunt was taking up all of him - he didn’t even think it would be possible. But you always did manage to surprise him. 

Your bulging cunt stretched widely agape around the gleaming lengths of his thickened cocks, all the way until your perked clit was bumping into his wildly tufted happy trail. Slowly glittering a sappy little snailtrail where he was buried until his rotund hilts, a treacly coating of your slick sticking his hefty balls againsts your ass.

And Sukuna’s in heaven - utterly on cloud nine when he rolls his powerful hips upwards with a ringing pap! Shovelling all the way until your rubbery hole was just kissing his ruby red cockheads goodbye, and all the way back-

“S-since you’re my ngh- good girl-” He’s letting his palm part with your lips with a sopping mwah! waterfalling volumes of spittle following right after. “-you should hah- know that…”

Pound after pound. 

He only needed one hand to move you up and down those thirteen-inch shafts like his own personal ragdoll. Another two more to guide them in making sure they poke and probe every one of your most tender spots.

And his final one? Rovering your hands upwards to squeeze one of Sukuna’s generous pecs. So large and cushiony. He’s snickering out, “-that if you squeeze hard ‘nough, you can get milk.”

♡ INO TAKUMA - I lose control.

“I-is this really okay…” Ino’s voice wobbles so cutely - so pathetically that he’s forced to sink his teeth into his peachy lower lip. “-don’t wanna lose-”

“But I want you to, baby—” Your cooing tone is enough to make Ino’s blushing fat head pump out a steaming hot mess of velvety pre between your inner thighs. Thick and sticky. And he lets you - encourages you - to do as you please when your greedy fingertips lather in the slippery puddles of translucent ribbons.

Eyes half-lidded and glossed over with such primal need, a bright burning blush overtakes his cheeks. Maw falling parted when you’re popping your soppingly wet digits inside his mouth. 

He sucks on them like his favorite gummy candy, looking right into your eyes whilst hanging onto every single syllable of yours. “I want you to lose control.”

Oh. 

Oh.

And you never realized that it would mean this-

“G-gonna break you-” Ino’s hiccuping out, overstimulated globs of his tears lathering his long lashes with a fresh coating all over again when one more trembling ram past your slick-filled entrance makes your clingy channel squeeze. Makes Ino’s softened palm plant down a harsh spank right onto your drooling clit, “-fuck- fuck m’gonna break this cute cunt oh-”

Head tumbling lecherously backwards, it’s all he can do to glissade one eager thumb over those extra tender spots of your pretty pussy and work his reverse cursed technique. 

Making you flinch at the axioms and crackles of cursed energy sprinting in white-hot streams down your arched spine. Your words are oh-so-breathless, “Shit- d-didn’t know you could do ngh- this, Taku.” 

“Don’ wanna hurt my pretty girl- n-no matter how rough I get.” 

Years and years of training making your poor bedframe sing out in resonating creaks, and your cunt cry out even louder. 

Saturated squelches emanate all around and make him jut his plump lips out in a pout. Brows raising once a sneaking glance downwards between your filthy thighs shows off such a filthy mess. 

You’re getting wetter and wetter by the second, gushes of your geysering juices spraying out across his rippling abs sinfully. And Ino’s just awestruck when he throws your legs on top of his toned shoulders and bends. Into the meanest mating press ever possible. “But you’re g-getting turned on by this, huh, sweetness?”

Shit- you can’t lie. Not when Ino had his inflated length stuffed so deeply inside you, touching each and every sweetly hidden spot in a syrupy swab. So long n’ girthy that it almost had you cockdrunk already, “Y-yes…”

And the sleazy grin that smears all down his drooling lips is so sexy. Head tilting downwards at you from his best angle, “S’that so?”

Before you can even blink - before you can even register your beloved boyfriend’s response - he’s trekking his mean fingers down to press another one of his mean smacks onto your puffed-up pussy lips. And another. And another-

“My f-filthy girl–” Ino’s drawling out, grin wider than ever when his rounded fingerpads pinch around your plump clit and buzz. Flickering with spasms of vibrating jujutsu that make you squeal, “-wan’ me to go…rougher?”

You’re nodding - nodding and nodding and nodding when that pillaging staccato grows wilder. Bumping Ino’s rounded crownhead into the fleshy parts of your cervix. Balloony curve skidding out ribbony slathers of pre across your soaked g-spot in a way that’s heavenly.

“Harder-” your fingers encircle Ino’s tender throat and squeeze. “You can do it- haaah- harder, Taku.”

“Mhm–” he’s humming, one hand guiding to your trembly wrist and helping your sultry digits tighten. Enough so that his skin burns with the crescent indents of your nails, marking. He’s shifting his hips to jostle a few bumpy veins into your softest patches, “Anything- anything for you, h-heh.”

Enough to make his hips snap! with copious thundering hits that tenderize your melty insides. So many, many times - so harsh that it has Ino’s slender waist reddening. Bruising with every pap! against yours-

“Ch-choke me more, pretty.” Ino’s spitting out, mouth stumbling into yours in a messy, messy French kiss that’s all teeth and lips and sheer need. “Your turn to go harder.”

And when you do, Ino doesn’t give a shit about his blossoming marks and grazes. In fact, he’s slamming! down one hand to leverage himself into an ever-deepening angle. It’s like he was spearheading open every single nook and cranny of yours - no sweet orifice left unturned. 

Ruining himself on your soppy pussy. 

Through your fucked-out heart-eyes you can already see the way cursed energy is rolling off of him in flickering bolts of lightning. Out of control. Burying his head into the crook of your neck with a keening ah! ah! ah! after every second fucking you into the sodden blankets of your bed.

Fuck, and he doesn’t even seem to notice. Smoothing his palms over your stinging mounds with even more overpowering reverse cursed technique. 

Part of him was proud at just how well and thorough he was fucking you, and that other part of him was letting his kiss-bitten lips part with a low whine at how badly he wanted all that evidence to just…stay there.

“S-swear m’gonna break you…” Ino’s mahogany brows furrow together when your gluey walls cling onto his generous girth, something powerful churning behind those droopy lids fighting to stay open. 

“Mhm–” you’re batting your lashes up at him in a way that makes him blush. Teeth glinting in the dim lighting as he snarls, and you’re chuckling as you gift him a slow kiss.

“D-don’t tease me, sweetness- swear m’gonna- haaaah- gonna make sure you don’t forget that I can’t use my ngh- reversed curse technique riiiight–” Knees shuffling apart to widen your own boneless legs, to leave a fat drag of Ino’s leaky mushroom tip in a straight line across your cervix. Slow. Solid. Knocking at your readily pliable womb- “-here.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - “Cum…dump?”

Those were the first words repeated out of Gojo Satoru’s pretty mouth tonight - and they might as well just be his last…ever. 

Because as soon as they’re spilling out into the headily warm air, Gojo can feel his slender fingers twitch at the curve of your hips. Can feel them buzz with such sheer fucking power and need-

The need to give his dear Mrs. Gojo exactly what you’ve been yearning for. 

“H-heh-” Something in Gojo’s lilting voice hitches, cracking just as his mind was right now. Hovering above you as if on autopilot, you catch the way that Gojo’s eyes flicker with something glowing. Prominent Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he gulps, “Ohh– Christmas came early, huh?”

And times like this, you can’t forget that your husband is the strongest.

Because it only takes all of two nanoseconds for you to find your perspired back laid out cozily against Gojo’s toned front in such a filthy full nelson. Your shoulders mushed up against the curvaceous mounds of his sculptured pecs, head lolling back beside his-

“T-Toru–” you’re squealing when he doesn’t give you even a word of hesitancy or warning before sinking in inch by fucking inch. Unstopping. “-did- did you just fucking teleport–?”

And it was meant as a half-joke - something to get your cottony mind off of the dizzying stretch of Gojo’s thoroughly swollen, rotund head working your glutinous walls open. Mapping in only a few inches from his neverending length before hitting the bullseye of your forbidden sweet spot and making you yelp-

So sinfully good that you almost don’t hear his breathy, rasped-out answer. “Maybe.”

“Wait- what?” You’re snapping open your weighty lids, head jostling over to sneak a glance at Gojo’s pretty features. “You don’t know if you telepor-”

But nothing could have prepared you for just how feral Gojo Satoru looked right about now. Just how gone. 

His cerulean eyes widened and crazed; leering grin plastered all over his face until you couldn’t even see his delicate dimples. Breaths coming out in pants - heaves - until your own body was being motioned up and down with his own like your very own rollercoaster. 

“I don’t know, sweetheart.” Rumbling voice so pained - it sends a shuddering bout of shivers that wrack through your entire body. Gojo’s tilting his head to nuzzle your clammy cheek, “All I know s’that the h-haaah- view is prettyyyy.” 

You startle as the dim bedroom light flicker once he plants a thundering French kiss onto your fleshy cervix with a deafening plap! Then another. And another. And another and- “And my wife? Even prettier.” 

Only a few vulgarly deep hits against the feverish depths of your cunt and Gojo was already pussydrunk.

“G-gonna be my…” Words straining out midway like he couldn’t even bear to finish his sentence, he’s rolling his hips. Hard. Fast. “The prettiest- gonna make you- make you my ah!”

You feel something drenching plat! plat! plat! the curve of your shoulder, and with a sharp jolt you’re realizing that he’s crying. 

Big, fat tears crinkling at the corners of Gojo’s hazily half-lidded eyes, streaming down right along with the honeyed wads of drool trickling from between his lips. 

“Satoru…” You’re craning over a few trembly fingers to brush over the dampened curtains of white blocking his forehead. “-are you-”

It’s only then that Gojo gasps-

Eyes flying open as if he’d been shocked by a burst of electricity the very moment your sensory pads had made mere contact with him. Bucking his hips in such a flexible degree upwards- with such staggering power that you think he’s fucking out any and every thought inside your melty mind right now.

In a flash, Gojo has your hands clutched with one of his; pressing his mouth onto your heated skin in a tender, tender kiss. Murmuring with broken vibrato, “I- I want you. I need you, Mrs. Gojo. R-really need you as my…cum…dump-”

Oh.

Fuck- this was what had him crazed. Depraved. 

“Gonna f-fuck you with ngh- unlimited void–” he’s sputtering into your ear, free hands leaving buzzing spank after spank on your perked clit. Powerful. And you swear you could feel the cursed energy on his fingertips, “-g’na be my cumdump forever then. H-hehhh forever and ever and oh!”

Gojo’s catching his delirious gaze onto where he was greedily disappearing from between your puffy lips. And with a mewl, you’re realizing that the corners of his eyes were just trailing with flickers of bright blue lightning. 

Locked on where you were pursed and poised to take every hit after hit. He leaves your slick-sheened entrance molding open even wider, and your sultry g-spots all battered and bruised. But that wasn’t what had Gojo entranced, no- 

He’s letting off a snicker, “Awww- would ya look at hah- that. Yer so close ta cumming, sweetheart.”

“H-how do you know-” You’re rambling away, only to realize that shit, this was what had Gojo bludgeoning his rounded cockhead with almost scary accuracy. This was what had your head spinning after every sticky thwack! of Gojo’s hips. “-y-you’re using your six eyes, Toru?”

“Ohhh, much more than that, my girl-” Followed with a slippery swat right onto your pulpy nub that leaves your eyes rolling to the back of your head. And Gojo’s bloated pinkish balls soaked through with another fresh wave of your sappy arousal, “M’gonna do exactly as you asked-” 

Watching and watching - Gojo’s mouth waters at that perfect picture of his cylindrical length ruining your insides. How he wished you could see just how perfectly your dewy walls were milking him.

Sighing - oh, he’s so in love. “Gonna be my- my h-heh- ohhh! Here she comes…”

And it’s just as Gojo predicted. 

Just as he saw - you’re falling apart underneath him with just a few more fat thuds right into all your favorite spots. Shooting up such heavenly bliss all throughout your veins; you’re grappling onto Gojo’s shoulders, his hair, his forearms-

“M’cumming-” Just about all that you can strangle out from your straining throat, hips jerking up and down in vicious gyrations to drag your peaks out for even longer. “Cumming- ah- m’cumming m’cumming–”

“I already know.” Gojo’s rolling his eyes - yet, you don’t see. Hell, you don’t even see the way that he’s twitching his free fingers into a hand sign that looked so familiar. “L-let’s see if the strongest fucks- e-even stronger.”

All you know is that the lights shatter. 

All you can hear is the creaking drag of furniture as they drag loosely towards where you and Gojo were ricketing the bed - as if attracted by some sort of magnetic force field. 

And the only thing you can feel is every atom in your body has been supercharged to the max. Pure energy flashing red and white behind your eyes when Gojo hooks a thumb into your elastic ringlet and makes just enough room for the sheer torrentials of cum he’s flooding you with.

“S’gonna b-be a biiig stretch, sweetheart–” He’s musing out, sweat-shimmered head tilting into yours like he could barely even manage to keep himself upright. He couldn’t. “Deep breaths- deeep breaths, m’kay? Take it allll f’me.”

You couldn’t waste a single drop.

And it was so hard to breathe when it felt like you were being filled to the very brim. Even more than that, in fact. Long, viscous-like rivers of his treacly cum being pumped into you with every needy rut.

Gojo’s slurring out wet streaks of his sobbing cock down your innermost core, frosting out such a weighty coating of seed that sloshes around like a gluey second skin. Smearing it round n’ round until you could only babble stupidly following every one of his pokes into your tenderest spots.

So much. He was cumming extra tonight, the slightest massage of your sweltering walls overworking his overstimulated mind into cumming again. And again.

And again until you were wondering how your snug cunt even had the-

“-space?” Gojo’s finishing off your thought for you. And you’re not sure if you’re prattling them out loud or whether he could read minds. You’re not sure if Gojo himself knew. “Let’s j-just say I- ahhh- used a little- ngh- unlimited void…”

Unlimited void? 

“Ngh- what- you really used unlimited void to-” you’re squealing pathetically, only to be shush-ed delicately by a reverent Gojo Satoru. His hips still jackhammering away sloppily into yours-

His cock softening - just for a split-second until he clasps a stray hand around his sap-coated base and radiates a few emissions of power. Tugging in filthy jerks until he was once more achy and rock-hard. Using reverse cursed technique on himself - then on you to make sure you don’t break any bones…yet.

Oh god, you’re not making it out of tonight alive.

“J-jus’ a little ah- experiment.” He places one lingering peck at your temple, and then another one drilling into your g-spot. “-but experiments always hafta have t-twenty-five trials, right?”

A/N. No Higgy this week, sowwy Higuruma nation <3 Hope you all have a lovely week!

Plagiarism not authorized.

[screampied]

‘ DICKMATIZED !? ★

☆ sum. dick • matized. [dehk-mah-tized] verb. when he’s rearranging your guts oh-so good that you’re just left utterly dumb ‘n stupid! toji, sukuna, gojo, geto, nanami, choso, ino.

wc. 5.8k

warnings. fem! reader, dick-drunk reader, balls… cum … balls, pwp, unprotected, dumbification, tf! sukuna, feral pússydrunk men, implied multiple rounds, backshots, mating press, cowgirl, nerd! nanami - college au, pússy talk, size kink, first time squīrt, mirror sēx, cervix mentions, spīt, tummy bulges, ‘till the bed breaks, breedīng kink, spanks, petnames.

an. elaborating more from this ask :p

✩ ˛˚ . SUKUNA RYŌMEN.

his dick? literally life-altering. life changing.

not only was sukuna ryomen the king of curses, but he was also the king of dumbing you down with just a few deep vulgar strokes. “attaaaa girl,” he’d grumble—one hand gripping your hip, another clawing near the top crown of your head. but as he’s raising your head, all you see is your dumb, drooling reflection through his stained century-old mirror.

through murky hazed peripherals, you spotted sukuna’s sly grin, with fangs poking through each lip… sinister red eyes zeroing down your body. he was mean but his hips were even meaner. as his hips relentlessly bucked into you, you let out a shrilling shriek once you feel his bulging tip swab its away around the insides of your slobbering cunt. he reached each ‘n every spot, pinpointing every slick dribbling orifice and you could barely even formulate words let alone proper sentences.

“that’s it, look at y’rself,” and a puddle of drool waters past the corners of your lips once sukuna grabs your chin. “hah- look at how dumb you get,” and you let off a moan once sukuna starts to thoroughly punctuate each individual thrust against your aching core. “allll. because. of. me.”

you glance at yourself in the mirror once more, peeking at the notoriously cursed silhouette that’s stood directly behind you. sukuna’s unapologetically ruthless, driving such sharp hips into you with little to no mercy and you only wanted more.

“suh- ooooh! sukuna,” you moan, getting whiplash from the vicious sharp pounds of slamming-ridden flesh. each pap stung against your skin and you’re just trying to keep up with his crazed pace. once his angered cockhead bullies its way near the fluttering opening of your cervix though, your eyes prettily roll. “o- oh my god, r- right th-”

“yeaaah, i know,” he replies gruffly, cutting off your tone by placing an enlarged palm over your wet-glossed lips. followed by a cute muffled, ‘mmmpf’ he scoffs in disgust once he feels you damping the center of his hand with treacly saliva. “keh. how repulsive,” and you whine once sukuna makes your back arch even more against his velveteen-made sheets. trailing a whetted claw gently down the slope of your back, he grunts. “wonder who’s nastier. you—” and he pauses, surprising your cunt with a brutal ricocheting thrust. “—or this sloppy worthless pussy. hnnnm.”

you’re tremoring underneath him, heedlessly trying to count each loud slap of clashing bodies in your head but you end up losing count anyway. his cock’s just as mean as he was, but his girth was far more rude. sukuna ploddingly runs his nails down your spine as he’s just impaling his weighty dick inside of your clamping, sopping walls. “mng- ‘s fuckin’ good. ‘kuna fuck me, fuck m—mmph,” and you moan against a palm that now smacks over your mouth again.

you could hear sukuna scoff behind you, feeling the wetness of your tongue slither its way around his bare hand. “y’er a nasty one,” he groans, glancing at your stupid reflection in the mirror. it was almost cute—how your eyes were all hooded, barely even open but visibly crossed. you’re seeing galaxies of stars as he pounds into your pussy, invading his way past the tight tight ring of your entrance. you’re so wet that your cunt sobs on his length, creating sticky globs of slick that glue against both fleshy mounds. “mhm. keep that pretty mouth shut. all i wanna hear is how fuckin’ messy you get under here,” and you let off another muffled whine once sukuna spreads your knobbly thighs further apart.

he’s so fast, his speed’s as quick as lightening—

and your hand cups over the one that’s currently placed over your mouth. sukuna feels your saliva starting to spill between your lips, wetting down his wrist and he titters. “spit’s supposed to stay in your mouth, dumb girl,” and you could feel yourself reaching closer and closer toward your blissful orgasmic edge. fuck- it was right there, literally arms-reach away and you were already starting to short-circuit. your thighs struggled to stay open and you were sure—just one more single hard thrust and you’d probably break. “aw, your legs are gettin’ weak. tappin’ out, princess?”

“ ‘kuna, ‘m cummin’,” you’d blurt once he removed his hand from your slick mouth. strings of glowy drool depart from your lips, sticking against his fingers before he thrashes the swollen pink head of his cock against your pussy.

repeatedly, it’s not just once or twice—hell, not even thrice!

it’s dozens of times. you let off a plethora of sweetened whines as his reddened tip scrapes its way through your gummy walls before you abruptly squall. “f- fuuuuck!”

a pretty, shiny geyser sprays out between your thighs, and your expression is priceless.

sukuna remained inside as he watched you whine out those needy raw sobs with his shaft still stuffed inside. you couldn’t think straight—you could only taste the treacly sweet tang of your release on your buds as your head flops onto the bed. “o- oh my god,” you’d puff, feeling your wobbly thighs soak with slimy molasses of your sweet. “again,” you moan out, looking up at the mirror to see sukuna staring straight at you.

he’s amused - and your eyes widen once he brings a hand underneath his heavy cock that was stacked with not only one but two..

he was only fucking you with one of his shafts—but now that you see his barred hand wrapping around both, you gulp once he nips his sharp fangs near his teeth. “fine,” he grumbles, and sukuna starts to align each between your sappy opening. sooo wet- it’s a pearly coat that runs down your cunt and he growls under his breath, bedaubing both creamy tips against your tender folds.

“but while we’re at it, little one. let’s see if you can squirt with two of me in you.”

✩ ˛˚ . INO TAKUMA.

first time inside and not only does he make you dumb but he ends up making himself dumb too.

“holy . . shit angel,” ino would lowly moan, reclining fully back against the couch. you’re gradually hovering over his lap while he’s got a clammy hand sneakily creeping at the left side of your waist. “g- god,” and darkened eyes lazer near your cunt. you were so slick. your entrance prettily sobbed with such dewdrops of sap that it had him whipped. ino wanted more, and the more he witnessed your pussy swallow his cock, the more his mouth grew drier than the sahara.

“relaaax, baby,” you invade the corner of his mouth with wet kisses. with how soft your voice was, the sound of your voice alone was enough to make ino’s dick throb — and it did.

his abs tense through his white tank as he feels one of your palms leisurely slide up his sculptured v-line. your touch - it was one of his many, many weaknesses. his first weakness being you . . second, your pretty dripping pussy. “ah, look at me. eyes up here, ino.”

“mhm-” ino grunts, nearly melting at the sickly sweet pounds of flesh clashing amongst each other. once your body started to move, it was game over. slosh after slosh and it only gets louder. ino’s nose cutely wrinkles the second he hears that squelching ‘pop!’

now, he’s bottomed out and it was just a few lengthy seconds after he’d eased himself all the way in. ino was snug - nicely snug and timid heart-filled irises meets yours right away. “you’re s…so gorgeous,” he’d slur, watching his chest deflate at each sloppy thrust of your unsteady hips. “m- might just cum from lookin’ at your face, angel.”

fuck- you rolled your hips in such a way that it had gears turning in his empty, hollow brain.

ino’s flushed, and eventually, two hands grip your waist tightly. he’s trying to reel you into him but you playfully give him a shove, staring as his back collapses back into the pillow. “ngh- ino, there baby. there,” you’d weep out in a sweet whimper. his dick greedily explored through your insides like a maze. almost like it was lost - desperately trying to find its way around before eventually smooching near your cervix. “a- ah!” you’d moan, feeling a vein that ran down his cock throb inside you merely milliseconds later.

the movements of your rutting hips hypnotize ino.

you’re tossing them around in a circle as your arms throw over his broad shoulders. the entire time, he’s getting lost in your eyes. his tip’s an angry red, blushing inside of your tight gripping walls as you sloppily bounce on his lap. perspiring hands squeeze against your waist before you watch as his dark mousy brows crease into a furrow. “baby-” he grunts hoarsely, tilting his head fully back.

it’s cute—and a bit attractive. you spot his neck muscles tense before you suddenly feel ino’s impatient fingers crawl at the pretty curvature of your ass. with a firm grip, he grabs a nice handful of your jerking flesh before hissing under his breath. “o- oh fuck, ‘m gonna cum. keep ridin’ me, ride me good—use me, fuh- fuck me,” and ino’s voice pitched whinier the more your wet cunt sucks him in - vacuuming each ‘n every inch.

the noises were just sloppy. each ‘plop!’ and ‘pap!’ that echo from both bodies sends a wave of chills down ino’s spine. it was a feeling he’s never experienced—and you might have just made him fall in love with not only you but your slickly, wet cunt.

“ ‘s okay, ino. you can c- cum inside,” you whisper breathlessly against the crook of his neck. ino wraps his arms around you, holding you close as your hips rut into him quicker. both bodies moved against each other rhythmically, dexterously twirling your ass back and forth against his lap. ino’s just as dumb as you were—and if you squinted, you could see heart eyes forming in his dilated pupils.

“god- ‘m cummin’ . . fuck- ‘m cumming,” he hiccups, and his entire body erupts.

ino grows limp the minute he feels his leaking tip spurting out rope after rope. it’s hot - you slow down as he’s finally pumping you full, spurting out such thin, miry amounts.

ribbons drizzle inside of you and ino gets quiet, burying his face into your shoulder. babbles of whine fall into the crack of your neck and you smile, skimming a finger down his undercut.

tender, fawn eyes lock onto yours before ino grabs your chin softly. with a pout, he bedaubs a thumb across your wetly parted lips before sighing. he’s in love. “s-soooo . . what are we?”

✩ ˛˚ . TOJI FUSHIGURO.

“awwwh, is the pretty girl gettin’ shy on me?” toji would gruffly croon, feeling your dripping cunt clench tightly around him.

you’re bent over and chewing on the bottom of your lip like candy whilst he’s going in and out of you. masses ‘n wads of milky knots ooze out of your pussy and he takes a moment to gawk at the mess he gifted you. “fuuuck- look at ‘er, ‘m floodin’ her up so good,” and toji grunts, his flushed tip smearing shapes around your runny entrance. “ya take it well every time too, baby.”

“hnng- toji,” you’d whimper, cutely trying to shimmy your hips against him. you always loathed how right after he’s dumping you with the nth load of the night, toji just has to tease you.

with a wide hand, he slaps his fat cockhead against your slobbering slit three times. in a dirty, carnal way though—it’s pretty.

with wrinkles creasing underneath his leafy eyes as he squints, toji drags a thumb down your swollen puffy folds. it’s a loud wet splat! that resounds through his perked ears and you could hear that smug snicker as clear as day. your tummy was already heaving - you wanted more, and toji hummed at the sight of you arching further for him. “don’t stop- f…finish fuckin’ me.”

“how cuuute,” he’d gruff, and you moan once he re-aligns his sweltering hot tip. it’s freshly coated with splotches of cum that was still gradually seeping from the center. messily, it leaks out, and you gasp once he starts to insert his way back in. it’s a sloppy pop! that sends you carnal chills and even a bit of throb. doing so makes you nip a few teeth near the inside of your cheek.

and oh- toji’s so thick.

he’s fat from the inside, along with his girth that delves deep inside of you - disappearing between your folds like an unrevealed magic trick.

every bulky inch that enters inside of your cunt makes your toes shrivel up into a cute, aching curl. every time, you’re left utterly speechless as you hear his husky rasps from behind you. toji runs a hand through his oily scalp before brusquely grunting. “hah- take it then, open nice ‘n wide for me, pretty. let’s see that biiiig stretch one more fuckin’ time,” and a cold sweat races down your back. one thrust! just one cruel, mouth-watering thrust, and you’re left stupid.

dewy remnants of cum streamed out the corners of your thighs and he was practically fucking his cum back into you. loads of it, creamy milky loads that pumped you full, keepin’ you warm—always.

the slanted hooking curve that his dick had swerved its way through your pussy, bruising your g-spot lovingly. but oh- toji doesn’t just fuck nasty, he fucks you stupid with a capital ‘S’.

“fuuuuck, right there, r- right hng- thereeee,” and the way you’d drag your words were so cute. toji’s hips were oh-so mean though, harshly snapping into you and each time the friction whams into you—you’re dumbfounded.

toji spots you trying to crawl away and he raises a brow, hooking a hand near your hip. “goin’ somewhere, girl?” and you moaned, feeling him drag you right back toward his cock. with your mouth idly hung open—you start to feel the slick muck of syrupy juices that globs down the flaps of your cunt. you’re soaked, and toji grunts the second you end up squeezing around his dick. measly thick fingers roam through his scalp as he watches your ass weakly buck back into him. “mhm- that’s it, park that pussy allll on me,” and he leans up close against your back.

you could feel his faded bushy happy trail tickle against your ass as he’s drilling into you deep, splaying your legs further apart with a single hand. toji wraps a hand around your throat, feeling every whiny syllable die out of your throat before he lifts your hips.

“such pretty hips. look at ‘em go,” and you moan, feeling his palm hit against your left ass cheek. it’s sharp, and the brief sting makes you get dumber whilst his mushroomy tip’s just tapping its way against your tender clit.

you’re at a loss for words—the lazy downward curve of toji’s cock runs all through you, and he feels your body underneath him cutely growing weak. he’s got the type of dick that makes you get a bit woozy, drooling for more and more inches until you’re stuffed to capacity. you were through, and toji’s just sternly slamming his hips into you so good that you don’t even hear the poor splitting wood of the headboard.

with a husky crack! it ends up splitting into two, falling right before your eyes and the boxspring ends up collapsing. toji doesn’t even flinch though, and his callused fingertips remain deep into the prints of your back. “heh. shit,” he mumbles, still buried inside of your puffed cunt.

you were still panting - heavily, but you crane your head around to a certain degree and glare at him.

“what? oh, don’t look at me like that, doll,” and you moan, facing back in front of you once he pulls out, smacking his cream-coated tip over your weeping sleek-covered cunt. “ ‘s her fault. isn’t that right, messy baby?” as you’re whimpering, toji grows mute at the sounds of your sloppy squelches.

his round tip smears itself in and out between your slobbering hole before he nods as if he actually understands what your pussy’s saying. “see. she even said sorry,” and toji leans down, spitting right on your cunt before giving it a praising pat.

“good giiiirl. seems like ya got more manners than y’r messy owner.”

✩ ˛˚ . SATORU GOJO.

“ahhh- don’t hide that gorgeous face, i wanna see ya,” satoru pouts, grabbing your hands.

you were utterly stupid, whimpering as you continued to mindlessly bounce on his lap. his shaft’s ridiculously thick, expanding throughout your walls like a domain whilst attacking your cervix with individual kisses.

it scratched an itch in your brain that makes you gasp—feeling his bare washboard abs rub against your back. satoru’s hot, but the sweltering pounds of flesh that smack and crash into his meaty thighs from your unpredictable movements were even hotter.

he leans right up against the left side of your cheek, pressing a wet chaste kiss near the corner of your twitching lip. “i wanna see my wifey get all dumb ‘n stupid while she’s ridin’ me, heh.”

“ngh- satoru,” you’d moan, feeling one of his hands sneak up your blouse. lanky fingers roam up your body as he’s mercilessly slamming you back down on his cock. satoru’s flushing capped tip swirls its way through your cunt, churning effortlessly rearranging your guts and your jaw dramatically drops.

it’s cute the way your mouth freely dangles, pink tongue lolling fully out as satoru presses a hand near your bare tummy. there, he could feel the ongoing stretch and so could you.

it’s a tiny bulge that wholly prints its way through you, and you could hear his breathy snicker air against your earlobe. “well look at that. such a pretty good girl takin’ allllll of me. look at that cute ‘lil tummy bulge,” and satoru runs a free hand through his hair. with tight clenched abs, his entire core was squeezing up—your moving hips had him gnawing the inside of his cheek.

but it’s a long deadly silence between the two of you that suddenly occurs. satoru’s icy bright eyes shine into yours as you cup his face, weakly trying to keep up your grinding.

timidly, satoru strokes your bottom lip gingerly. “keep starin’ at me like that ‘n i might get’cha pregnant, sweetheart.”

“do it.” you whine. “make me p… pregnant, ‘toru.”

famous last words,

because not only does he fuck you stupid until you’re chewing on your own sweet, pathetic whimpers—satoru ends up dumping load after load into you. buttery wads of cum tear their way out of your folds as he’s now got you folded in a nasty mating press.

satoru overflowed your cunt, panting heavily as he watches the hefty, velvety masses of cum ooze down between your stuffed entrance.

with a single hand, he spreads your legs wide to get a better view and he kisses his teeth. “fuck- what a mess,” he’d groan, and he’s still deeply inside of you. your brain was empty — and all you could even register let alone think about, was the ropes of hot cum that flooded deep into your womb.

you’re still moaning, feeling satoru’s hungry gaze peer into your soul before he snickers. “would be a shame if this all hah- went to waste.”

and as he’s still trying to catch shallow breaths, satoru leisurely wipes a thumb down your leaking pussy. immediately, his digit gets coated with milky remnants of cum. “s- satoru,” you’d whimper, watching as he pressed a soft kiss to your ankle. you remained in the same position—

he had your legs spread wide into an eagle ‘v’ shape before bringing his finger up to his naturally glossed lips. satoru laps up his own mess right off his thumb whilst his cock’s plugging you utmost full. “you’re s- so nasty.”

“not nastier than this sweet girl,” satoru whispers in a raspy tone, taking out his dick before watching as his cum freely pours between your folds. velvety loads and loads sob between your folds and he hums, leaning in for a quick kiss.

satoru rocks his toned body against you, pinning both arms above your head before a hand placed on your tummy. you moan into his lips—wrapping a feeble leg around his slim waist before his free hand grabs at your neglected tits.

“mmp-” he muffled between kisses, feeling your hand trail a path down his sculptured abs. satoru presses his forehead against yours—devastatingly pulling away before whispering against your lips.

“got a feelin’ it’s gonna . . be a girl.”

✩ ˛˚ . NANAMI KENTO.

“fun fact sweets,” nanami grunts as a bare palm wraps around your throat. his grip was soft - the mere opposite of his accurately shaped thrusts.

your moans harmonically sing and bounce through the thin walls of his office as labored breaths continue to snatch out from the pits of your lungs. he’s big, easily allowing the bulbous head of his cock to run through every part of your gummy walls. he nudges through every corner, pounding into your core so good that it makes you choke on inaudible sentences. “we’re burnin’ about probably hundreds of calories right now. hah- all from me bending you over my desk like . . . this.”

you let off a sweet whine, gasping as he’s just leisurely reaming your insides. nanami’s dick dragged its way through each slickly wet nook perfectly, studying every orifice like an equation before solving it with a single thrust. “f- fuck, ‘ken,” you’d mewl out a sweetened sob, the scent of freshly printed review papers filling up your nostrils. never in a million years would you have expected the campus nerd to fuck so nasty.

he’s rigorous - just drilling his honed hips into you until you’re entirely stupid with that pretty pink tongue of yours fully lolled out of your mouth.

his dick was insanely long too, and he grunts at the feeling of his plump tip rudely thwacking against the opening of your cervix. “such a pretty thing. even prettier inside, ‘s like she’s trying to answer for you,” and the wooden worn-down desk continued to rumble from the rickety pounds of weight. the stability of your hips was far too weak.. and nanami brings a hand toward your waist. his touch was soft, and you moaned at the feeling of his stubby fingers dancing up and down your skin before a single strenuous thrust reels you back into reality. “hah- tell me, pretty,” he moans between thrusts, the slickness of your cunt glossing down near the lower base of his full shaft. “why is a woman orgasm important, hm?”

“u- um,” you moan, your brain completely fried. his hits were so good - too good, and you’re just dumbly wordless.

nanami’s hips went askew as he made you arch further into his desk, deepening his angle. your face is lightly planted against the papers and you could hear him sneer from behind you.

one second turned into two . . then three . . then seven . .

a weeping whine rips out of your throat once he pivots even deeper, guiding a big hand between your legs. a thumb swirls around your sopping stuffed cunt and he leans in to kiss near your shoulder. “ ‘um’ isn’t a valid answer, dummy,” and your eyes were already mindlessly rolling to the backs of your empty skull.

but oh- the stretch.

he’s jabbing his hips quicker ‘n quicker as greedy hands grab at your bare skin. “c’mooon, use that pretty brain. my smart girl’s gotta be in there somewhere,” and nanami playfully knocks at the top of your head. “at least i hope she is.”

“t- the woman orgasm’s important because it helps out with the uh- pelvic floor muscles and activity.”

“and.”

“and . . it helps boosts fertility.”

“aaand?”

“a- and ‘m cumming!”

“wha- oh,” nanami lowly chuckles, feeling your cunt tighten around him. the clingy wet claps of skin grew louder - violently ricocheting against both pounds of flesh as he scoots your ass up further.

he’s deep, jackhammering his thick cock into you while occasionally fixing his glasses. every few seconds, they’d slide down the bridge of his nose. it irritates him, and you’d hear him scoff under his breath while he’s still ramming into you senseless. “c’mooon then, show me how orgasms help strengthen pelvic floor muscles, sweetheart.”

as you’re just being fucked stupid into the countless marked sheets of your papers, you gasp. stuffed at the very hilt - at least. a single tap of his cockhead against your cervix and that’s a wrap for you. within a blink of an eye—you’re shamelessly creaming down his cock with a wide shaped mouth.

he’s still thickly stretching through your walls, kneading at every compressing wet corner as you’re releasing and you start to whine. “fuck- fuuuck,” you’d whimper, feeling his jagged hips abruptly halt against you. the cold metal buckle of nanami’s belt rubs against your skin as you moan, seeing nothing but mere stars. competing to catch your breath, you huff out a sweet genuine, “did . . did i pass?”

“hmm,” he kisses near your shoulder blade, readjusting his glasses. glancing down, nanami looks at your panties that were lazily pulled to the side and he makes you arch further.

as you’re still panting, nanami clicks his tongue. “ ‘m afraid not. i think we need to learn more about the clitoris,” and nanami takes off his glasses, bringing them towards your slick opening, witnessing it fog from your dripping mess.

with a low titter, he brings them back up to his curved lips before licking the wet lenses, giving your pretty pussy a ‘lecturing’ spank. “specifically yours.”

✩ ˛˚ . SUGURU GETO.

if it’s anything nastier than suguru geto’s tongue, it’s his thick fat cock.

it’s the epitome of sloppy, especially with how it rummages through your insides, roughly circling his tip around the opening of your slick cunt. prone bone would almost always be his favorite too. it was just the way his crushing body weight would hover over yours—nearly suffocating your backside with just a bit of pressure. “sugu- ngh. suguruuu,” you’d croak out, each stinging slap of skin sending swarms of butterflies inside the inner pits of your tummy.

“quiet, doll,” he’d groan, curling a few fingers around your neck. geto’s thumb traces down your exposed nape before he licks at your ear. “fuck- what did i tell you about speakin’ out of turn?” and as your eyes start to wander to the dark abyss depths of your cranium, you whine. he’s in so deep, massaging every sloppy orifice as his fat tip drags its way through your spongey insides. “you speak after she gets a word in,” and you let off a needy sob once geto gently lift your leg. he’s still pressed into you as you’re being rammed into from behind, and that’s when he slides a hand between your legs. gurgling sloshes leave your pussy once he starts to maneuver circles around your entrance and you whine. “uh huuuh. listen to that pretty back talk with me. i know- i know.”

geto’s palm instantly got moist from your dewy juices spurting on his hand—not that he even minded anyway. you were just perfect like this, and each snap of his hips made you lose your mind ten times quicker. you’re already drooling from the mouth too, lazily sticking out your tongue as your arms start to grow feeble. “f- fuck, suguru. spank it. hng- spank it.”

“myyy, isn’t my girl bein’ extra dirty today, hm?” geto huskily purrs against the lobe of your ear. his rhythm was purely ruthless. your eyes were bulging, akin to the size of pinballs once your mouth started to pry open wider once the stretch continued..

his dick’s so fat - from all curving angles, stuffing you entirely with all nth inches of cock. geto could hear your airy pants grow more breathy and he gutturally sighs, smearing faster shapes against your dripping cunt. “ohhh- don’t shy away now,” he snickers, making you raise your head from the pillow you rested on. “not when you’re so fuckin’ wet. repeat what you want me to do, sweetheart.”

he’s a mere tease. you weren’t even facing him directly, but you could tell from just his smug tone alone that he was cockily grinning ear to ear. with a belting whine departing from your lips, you moan out a needy, “s- spank it suguru.”

“pretty please.”

“p… pretty please.”

geto brashly hums, running his free hand down your spine that glosses with sleek sheets of glistening sweet. his cock’s got you arching perfectly, and every inch pumps its way inside of you with occasional wet ‘pops!’ squelching from both sloppy mounds.

“good girl,” he gruffly whispers against your neck, feeling your hectic hips sensually rock back into him. “yeah- like that, princess. throw that cute ass against m . . me, fuck-” and seconds later, you feel the sharp brief sting of a slap against your teary folds. you’re so wet, wetting up his palm as your moans fill the entire room.

one slap turns into two, then three, then four.

you lost count—it was probably around that number, but you were far too dumb from his dick that’s currently got you in such a trance.

“ ‘m gonna..” you gasp out, the bucking of his hips getting more and more nasty. geto’s body rubs off against you and you then feel his palm swat against your ass. smack! and you hear him groan from behind. your cunt’s sucking him in and spitting him out — and the view was godly. all he saw was a pretty, slick mess as you start to dribble clear syrupy sap between your thighs. “cum- gonna cum suguru.”

“you remember how?” geto teases and your chest heaves once he gives your wet pussy a squeeze. not a single thought was in your mind, just how he was destroying your insides inch after fuckin’ inch. .

the flat of your tongue starts to salivate and you whine, nodding cutely before feeling geto’s thrusts deepen. “silly girl. bet you forgot how- should see your face right now,” he huffs, covering your spit-glossed mouth with his wide palm. you end up drooling on his hand and he tchs, smudging your saliva all over your mouth with his palm.

“c’mon then, gimme a show,” he grouses, slowing his hips down for you. geto does this purposely so you could physically feel how much of a stretch he’s barreling inside of your cunt. it’s huge - and you don’t even realize that after you finally came, you were even stupider.

cottony fuzz coils at both of your ears from the inside as your mouth remains open. you’re just whining, babbling out sweet ‘thank you's’ — even though you don’t even know exactly why you’re thanking him.

“hah- you’re welcome.” geto cunningly coos against your neck, planting a thumb on your throbbing clit. you’re so tender, shaking underneath him as you’re still seeing splotches of utter white. his dick had you unable to create coherent words, and geto brings his thumb up to your mouth before dragging it across your lips. “mmh. messy girl. still gotta work on that mouth.”

✩ ˛˚ . CHOSO KAMO.

“o- oh fuuuck,” he’d swallow, peering his eyes down toward your wet cunt.

it’s pretty - drippin’ with masses of slippery slick that soaks the entirety of his cock.

sucking in a sharp gasping breath, choso grabs onto your hips before flashing a sheepish grin. he wasn’t in fully in and choso’s already a mess. lazily leaning back against the futon—warm, drowsy eyes meet yours with darkened bags hanging underneath his pretty eyelids. choso can’t keep his eyes off you. his eyes flicker from up to your face, then back between your thighs. “mngh- you’re squeezin’ down on me, baby. don’t think ‘m gonna last.”

“you can last, ‘cho,” you whisper, letting off a sweet moan yourself once his cock smugly barrels itself between your puffed folds. you leave a lustrous shine that glimmers over his aching shaft. with achingly slow hips, you start to jerk forward and you can already see choso’s adam’s apple bobbing. “mmh- that’s it, hold me. touch me choso, ‘s okay.”

with choso though—he didn’t realize just how big he was. his dick stood tall, and its height expanded throughout your gummy walls entirely.

piercing the honed edges of your nails into his shoulders, you whine out a breathy gasp. his cock’s rude, sloppily towering inside of your pussy before starting to puncture a few delicious hits into your slick-flooded core. you’re rocking back ‘n forth, staring into his half-open eyes before burying your face into his neck. “nono-don’t do thaaat. wanna see you,” he’d pout, lifting your face.

choso’s already sweating — dewy droplets face down each side of his forehead before he feels the elastic stretch. he could almost taste it, the sugary sweet stretch. the way choso’s mushroomy tip drags its way up down and round your cunt leaves a tender feeling arising in your tummy. precisely, he marks an ‘x’ through your goopy insides with the crown of his dick like it was some kind of sacred treasure. a far more lewd kind though.

and not only did your hips make him stupid, but your pussy did too. “c- chosoooo,” you’d belt out a three-second whimper, sliding a few fingers down his bare chest. he’s hot, and the more your touch ghosts down his skin, the higher his body temperature rises. “right there- ooh! k- keep fuckin’ me there, baby.”

“god- when you whine my name, ‘s so hot,” he’d sheepishly admit, clawing a hand through his black loose strands. choso’s entire abdomen tightens at the sudden quickening speed of your hips. you’re frantic, slamming your ass up and down on his veiny cock while swerving your hips in a plethora of addicting swerving circles.

a beefy arm of his reaches for the headboard and he grabs onto it tight. you moan, staring as the veins and muscles flex through choso’s bicep. you’re riding him so good that he’s literally got to hold onto the bed for support. “ ‘m gonna fuckin’ cum. s- shit, your pussy’s gonna…..fuck.”

the loud paps of jerking skin only increase, and once you lean in to kiss choso—he submissively leans into your touch.

right away, teeth violently clash together as tongues hungrily delve into each mouth, competitively fighting for their fair shares of dominance. choso moans, sliding a palm toward the edge of your jolting ass. you’re riding him to straight oblivion, and he’s already rolling his eyes back. “mmpf-” he’d let off a gargled moan, bringing a swatting smack towards your rear. “fuckmefuckfuckmeee,” he’d whine into your ear, and now he’s got both hands clinging onto your ass. choso’s dragging you firmly back against his pelvis, making sure you feel him deep inside of your compressing walls.

oh- he was entirely pussy drunk, with you being dick drunk.

choso could see the sleazy smile forming against your lips as your back started to arch. he’s damn big, and you moan the second his fat tip keenly thrashes its way against your pulsating g-spot. that was all it took for you to squeal out a needy ‘ah!’ before your legs ended up locking around his waist.

languidly, he’s digging his fingers into your hips before you end up nibbling on his bottom lip. “ ‘m cummin’ baby. hah- cum with me, be my messy girl. c’mon,” and as he’s rambling, choso wraps his strong arms around you. he’s giving you a gentle bear hug, cutely whining into your chest as his head buries itself in between your soft tits. “mmmph.”

as your hips continued to roll, you eventually ended up finishing - hard. your orgasm had you sobbing out wantons of whimpers as his dick’s plugged you very, very full. glittery ribbons spray into you at the same time, and it’s fiery hot.

choso’s shivering underneath you, still having his arms wrapped around you—never wanting to let go. “f- fuck, choso,” you’d breathe out, hearing his tremoring sighs aerate between your tits. choso rolls out his tongue, licking a stripe down the valley of his chest as he’s still pumping you with miles ‘n miles of sultry hot seed. you hum, coddling his head with one arm as your ass slowly comes to a stop.

a clammy hand of yours grabs at your ass as you turn around, glancing at the ivory oozing clods of cum that dribbles down your pudgy opening. “not . . done,” choso heavily huffs, and you moan once he pushes you to lie on your back. with a soft thud! you land against the cushioned furniture before looking up at him.

choso looks hungrier than ever, and before you knew it — he’s slowly sliding your knees up toward your chest. “f- fuck,” he whines, taking a peak at the strings of cum that continue to race down your lustrous-coated slick.

so pretty,

but in choso’s mind, it could be even prettier.

choso leans in, pressing a kiss between your breasts before sliding a thumb down your cunt. a wet psh! shrieks out of your pussy and he lets off a quivering breath. “you can be a little messier, baby,” he’d whisper, and his tone’s a bit more hoarse now. choso hears you gulp, and once he starts to shove your knees up to your chest, he re-aligns his leaky cream-glossed tip. “ ‘m gonna stuff you fuller,” he pressed his final wet kiss against your lips.

“maybe even give you a baby . . or two . . six, h- heh.”

[makismei]

thinking about toji with a sensitive girl who runs away before she cums, saying it’s too much and she can’t take it! cw: hints of sadism & machoism, unintentional edging, squirting, he’s pretty sweet ^.^

“baby, c’mon, you’re making this harder for yourself.” he chides, dragging your twitchy hips back. your thighs stay shut and he sends you a pointed glare, “what’s this?”

“toji,” you sniffle, “s’ too much, i can’t do it.”

with your teary eyes and quivering legs, toji can’t help but be mean. you’re so cute. it might be the death of him.

“want to use your special little word?” he asks lowly, already knowing your answer.

you shrink in on yourself, “n-no…”

he hums, a sick grin tugging on his lips. “i’m gonna need something more convincing than that, baby.”

you pout. he’s teasing you. he likes to see you like this.

shyly, you open your thighs, revealing your soaked cunt to him. his eyes lock in on your needy hole, twitching and drooling all over the bedsheets. “please, toji, make me cum..”

“aw, how sweet. saying please too, how can i say no?” he mutters, thick hand caressing your thigh, trailing closer to where you need him.

“you’re not gonna run this time, right?” he pats your pussy, entertained by the way you tense and how you force your legs to stay open.

“m’ not!” he knows you’re lying. but it’s fine, he likes testing how far you can go.

he thumbs your clit, watching you intently. you’re staring down at his hand, anticipating his next move. slowly, he pushes two fingers inside, groaning to himself when you squeeze down on his digits, “what a slutty cunt,” he grouses, “see doll, she’s begging to cum, but you’re not letting her.”

toji prods around, still thumbing your clit and you think you’re going to cry.

“hold your legs back,” he doesn’t even bother looking at you, “your legs are trying to close on me.”

you know what’s gonna happen if you hold your legs back. but also, what happens if you don’t. you shake your head, defiant. “i don’t wanna…”

the man hums, amused. “you’re gonna be like that?” you nod, testing him.

“hmm, i think m’ done being nice to you.” your pupils morphing into hearts at his words, barely even realizing that he’s putting a hand on your thigh, pushing it down to make room for him. he locks your other leg underneath him.

his fingers know exactly where to poke, thumb still on your clit. he’s so precise, aiming for that one spot again and again.

naturally, because he’s already tried to make you cum a few times, it doesn’t take long for you to know you’re gonna cum.

“don’t.” he scolds, already knowing what you’re up to, “don’t hold it, cum.”

it’s overwhelming, you’re not sure if you’re holding it intentionally, but you like it when he forces you to cum anyway. “i c-can’t, toji, toji no!”

you’re trying to squirm away. away from the onslaught of pleasure. toji glares at you and then you hear it.

a soft buzz and you look down, mortified. he’s still fingering you, despite the fact you’re clenching down so hard he can barely move his fingers.

“wait.. wait toji, baby, please,” you beg, “i’ll cum, i’ll cum now. but plea—easeeee!”

“i’ve given you enough chances,” he frowns, pressing the little toy against your clit, he continues driving his digits into you. “c’mon baby, make me happy.”

you’re sobbing hysterically, unable to get away from the pleasure. toji laughs, “let go, i dunno why you’re doing this to yourself.”

writhing on the bed is useless because you can’t escape his hold—teetering on the edge of orgasm is making your mind go numb.

“n-no, m’ gonna cum, toji i can’t hold it! it’s gonna come ouuuttt!” he doesn’t let up, shaking the toy and watching your back arch up.

“hands.” he scolds and you immediately withdraw your clammy fingers from his own, “that’s good, now c’mon, you know what i want.”

it’s paralyzing, left leg shaking uncontrollably underneath him while you babble incoherently. he keeps a watchful eye, working you to it. he feels his cock drooling pre at the sight of you—the feeling of you falling apart on his fingers is making his mind hazy.

your vision whites. toji whistles lowly, watching you splash liquid all over his lower tummy, soaking his boxers. he tosses the vibrator aside, thick fingers gently working you through it.

you’re practically screeching, becoming so fidgety that toji has to use his free hand to scoop up your wrists, keeping you at his mercy.

“shh, baby, that’s good. that feels good, don’t it?” when your body relaxes, he pops his fingers out, shamelessly putting them in his mouth. he leans over you, pressing his weight onto you.

burly hands hold your face, grinning at your bleary eyes and tear soaked cheeks. “hey, gorgeous,” he hums sweetly, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek. you’re panting, trying to catch your breath and he doesn’t want to overwhelm you, but it’s in his nature to be a little mean.

pressing his tongue into your open mouth, you moan, unable to keep up and he breathes out a laugh, pulling away. he knocks his nose against yours, praising you quietly.

weak arms throw themselves over his neck, keeping him close to you. you can feel his bulge twitch, a familiar warmth beginning spread over your body.

“tojiii~” you tease, “i think your little friend wants some attention too.”

he’s amused, grinning wolfishly. “haven’t you had enough, lady?”

you pretend to ponder, “i can’t say for sure.”

“you started this,” he pulls away, manhandling your body so you’re on your knees, face smushed into the pillow, “i think you’re biting off more than you can chew, doll.”

more pleasure dom!toji here ^.^

[yemmuis]

thinking about roommate!choso, who, after fucking you for the first time, decides its the only thing he likes anymore.

besides spending time with you, and watching movies with you, and smoking with you.

you know those “physical needs, physiological needs, spiritual needs” pyramids you learn about in highschool? yeah, chosos goes fucking you in bed, fucking you in his car, fucking you on the bathroom counter, fucking you on the couch, and then—and only then—comes eat, sleep, drink.

he cant stop himself. i mean, really—when you’re walking around with your ass practically hanging out of your shorts, tight shirt with no bra underneath, how can you blame him for bending you over the nearest surface and barely taking the time to pull your panties off? (he doesn’t, just pushes them to the side or pulls them down enough to expose your wet cunt. just for his stupidly big cock to bully into your cervix as usual.)

and how can you blame him, when hes so sweet to you when hes quite literally pounding you over the back of the couch? all that comes out of his mouth is “i’m sorry, baby, ‘m sorry, but you know how i get when you tease me” and “i love you, thank you” over and over and over until hes pumping you full of his cum and then dropping to his knees to watch while he stuffs you full of his fingers to make sure you cant fake cummin’ for him.

so what, he’s a little anxious. what is he if he cant please you, though?

and maybe he has a bit of a…disregard for protection. it just feels so much better when he isnt hindering himself with a condom, obviously!

and maybe he likes watching you drool into his chest when hes done with you; watching his nut ooooze out of your cunt and make a mess wherever hes fucked you this time.

sure, you scold him after every time— “you gotta use protection next time, cho, i don’ wanna get pregnant.” you grumble, even while your lips are locked with his and just by his half-lidded eyes and dilated pupils you know hes not quite done with you yet.

deep down, you know maybe you wouldn’t mind having chosos babies.

not that you’ll tell him that. he’s very weak to your suggestions, and you don’t know what you’d do if he got it in his head that he wanted to marry you and pump you full of his kids.

…maybe you two should have a talk on where this whole roommates-to-fuckbuddies thing is going.

note :: i have something big in the works i proooommmyyy i jus need 2 find the time 2 write ☹️☹️ soon u shall have ur fix my babies i promise

[cumironi]

just imagine, your boyfriend, nanami kento, coming home all needy and hard, a tent underneath his dress pants, horny for the last few hours after the little video you sent while trying a new dress that shows too much while he’s trying to fight for his life, purposely teasing him.

nanami is not a needy person, so when he’s all whining and begging, that means he is at the bridge of cumming just by putting the tip of his cock into your heavenly cunt. fighting the curse all day makes him sick, and as soon as he got home and saw you— in bed dressed in his blue shirt with just panties underneath— he’d pounced on you like a madman.

“please, baby, please, please, pleaseeee,” he’d whine into the crook of your neck, his hips rutting against yours, his uneven and ragged breathing ghosting the shell of your ear. “just the tip, i promise.” his panting grew heavier, the sound of him unbuckling his belt filling the room.

you moan softly as nanami ruts against you, your hands roaming over his back, feeling the hard muscles beneath his shirt. you tilt your head back, giving him better access to your neck as he pants heavily against your skin.

“mmm, baby...” you breathe out, arching up into him, “you’re so desperate for me tonight. what’s gotten into you?” your fingers find their way under the hem of his shirt, tracing patterns along his lower back. you can feel the heat radiating off his body, the tension coiled tight in his muscles. he grinds harder against you, his hardness pressing insistently against your core through our clothes.

nanami lets out a low groan at your teasing words, his hips bucking more urgently against you. his hands slide down to grip your thighs, pulling them further apart as he settles between them. “fuck, fuuuck, you know exactly what you do to me,” he growls, nipping along your jawline. “i’ve been thinking about this sweet pussy all fucking day. dreaming of sinking my cock deep inside you.”

one hand slips between your bodies to cup your breast roughly through your shirt. he pinches and tugs at your nipple, making you gasp. his other hand slides up your thigh, pushing aside your panties to delve between your folds.

nanami groans as his fingers slip through your slick folds, finding you already wet for him. he circles your clit with his thumb while two fingers plunge knuckle-deep into your dripping cunt. “look how ready you are for me, you insatiable minx,” he rasps, pumping his fingers in and out. “bet you’ve been touching yourself all day too, haven’t you? dirty girl...”

he captures your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as he finger-fucks you faster. the obscene sounds of your arousal fill the room. nanami breaks the kiss, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

“gonna make you cum on my fingers first,” he promises darkly. “then ’m gonna bend you over and fuck this needy pussy raw until you’re screaming my name. gonna fuck you in every surface in this house for teasing me while i’m on mission, you better pray to god for a mercy because i have none.”

[outerhills]

buzzcuts 𐙚₊˚⊹♡

rafe cameron + insatiable!kook!reader

warnings: mdni 18+, smut, buzzcut rafe, p in v, making out, cumming inside, cocky rafe, slapping (it happens like twice), use of "daddy" (only once), choking, squirting, reader and rafe live together

word count: 1.3k

you had been suggesting he get a haircut for about a week now, and of course he avoided listening to you to piss you off. he knew you were a spoiled little princess who always got what she wanted, and always thought she was right about shit.

which is ironic because he spoiled you along with everyone else.

there you sat in a silky pink nightie that sat just at the top of your thighs, leaving almost nothing to the imagination as you watched television on the flatscreen of your bedroom. of course you sat around all day doing nothing, you could afford to when your boyfriend wanted to do everything in order to stroke his ego. paying the bills, buying all of your clothes, whatever he could to make sure you couldn't shit talk him for anything.

considering he was out this late, you knew he was with his friends; he wasn't stupid enough to cheat on someone like you, he knew better.

but he also had been gone all day.

there wasn't much he could have been doing, since the last time you saw him was early the morning of before he left the house.

so, where the fuck was he all day?

you weren't crazy, you had better things to do than to blow up his phone and track his every move; but he'd definitely hear an ear full once he got home.

and of course you were more than prepared to talk his ear off once you heard the slam of a truck door, mouth practically watering to complain.

you'd lay in the bed, arms crossed, letting him come to you.

though that wasn't the case anymore once rafe stepped into the dimly lit bedroom with a freshly buzzed haircut, arms almost too large for the sleeves of the polo he wore.

your demeanor had completely shifted, shifting from a thick irritation, to a dying thirst, the folds of your cunt practically pooling at the sight.

not only did he look delicious, but you loved being listened to.

no, you weren't gonna let him win so easily.

"you've been out late," you coughed, rolling your eyes as your arms remained crossed. he gave a scoff, a smirk on his face. "don't start your shit, you know I was with topper and kelce." you gave a short huff, looking away from him.

it was hard maintaining the attitude when all you wanted to do was give him the sloppiest sucks of his life.

he walked over to you, his large hand holding your chin with a tight grip, forcing you to look into his eyes, but of course that smug smirk tugged at his lips when he saw how your eyes dilated.

"you play pretend, but you can't resist me."

rolling your eyes, you spoke softly. "i see you listened to me."

"mhm. don't get too used to that."

he walked into the bathroom of the master bedroom, the door open as he turned on the light and slipped off his shirt, revealing his toned body underneath, his arms even more visible as you looked out of your peripheral. rafe ran the shower, not before he caught the little side glances you gave him, a self satisfied grin on his face.

- - - - -

as the water turned off and rafe wrapped himself in a towel, he stood in the bathroom shaving off any amount of stubble he could find on his face.

there you stood, a sultry look in your gaze as you leaned against the bathroom doorframe.

"fuck..." was all that passed through your thoughts as you looked at him and his haircut. it sharpened his features even more, giving him an intimidating, almost mean appearance. instinctively, your legs squeezed together, the wetness of your folds damping your legs as there no barrier to keep it from dripping slightly.

"you're staring princess," he spoke in a husky tone, cutting off your thoughts. you walked over unfazed, standing in front of him as his broad figure towered over you, his bottom half still wrapped in his towel as he pulled you close to him by your waist.

you didn't speak, but your gaze said everything as you ran your manicured nails through the prickly strands of his buzzcut, slightly biting down on your bottom lip.

"i take it you like the haircut," he smirked, his free hand lowering to grip onto your ass.

"shut up." you didn't want to boost his ego even more than it already was, the tension building as you stood close enough to feel his body heat, your eyes drifting to his toned chest as your hands remained in his hair, the tip of your tongue darting out to lick your lips.

without a word, you pulled him by his hand to the bedroom, sitting him onto the edge of the bed as you straddled on top of him.

immediately, you captured his lips with your own into a heated, wet kiss. his tongue forced his way into your mouth as his hands found the curves of your waist, holding you in place.

"you look so fucking sexy rafe." the praise was breathy and brief as you grazed your wet lips over his before capturing him in another heated kiss.

"mhm, im knowin' it," he said lowly, smirking into the make out you were having. out of impulse, his fingers trailed between your legs as your straddled on his lap, his breathing heavy as he pulled back to see the sweet wetness you left all over his hand.

"look at this, all wet fa' me," he taunted, his other hand gripping your chin as he forced you to look at his drenched fingers.

"that's what happens when you listen to me you fucking idiot." it was in a flash that you felt a harsh sting to your cheek, rafe grabbing your chin once again forcing you to stare back into his darkening eyes, his jaw tightened.

"i don't think you have the right to be smart with me angel, when you're the one soaking up my lap."

"dont fucking sl-", and he did it again. "it's the only way to shut you up baby."

you definitely didn't want to egg him on, but the sheer force he used against you had your cunt dripping, the towel wrapped on his waist collecting the droplets.

and the feeling was mutual, as his swollen hard cock was constricted by the soft towel on his waist.

it was then that you removed the towel from his waist, almost moving to kneel before him until he restricted you by your thighs.

"don't bother." with a swift movement, he sinked your cunt fully onto his thick cock, giving you no time to adjust as he practically ripped you apart with his harsh thrusts. both of you let out breathy moans, rafe letting out a low groan as he gripped onto your neck.

"move princess, don't make me do all the work," he scoffed, his grip on your throat tightening.

you let out a small cough as he choked you, bouncing on his hot cock as the veins of his thick length scraped at your tight walls.

it was nothing unusual to go from such a soft intimacy to his cock now kissing your cervix as you rode him, your slick cunt gushing against him as he held you by your throat.

he pulled you close to him, capturing you into a passionate kiss as his hands rested on the jelly like curves of your pillowy ass cheeks.

you had pushed him back onto the bed, your manicured nails scraping his chest, causing him to let out a deep groan.

"fuck, im gonna-"

"do it baby, come all on me."

but it wasn't just cum as you threw your head back.

"ahhh, fuck~" you moaned, your body convulsing as you squirted all over him, his own cum mixing with your juices as your cunt clenched around him.

softly, you fell back onto the bed beside him as you pulled off his cock.

he let out a faint chuckle, his tongue licking his bottom lip as he looked at the juicy mess you made. "if i knew a haircut would have gotten me pussy, i woulda' done it sooner."

"that's what happens when you listen daddy."

[nanaslutt]

insatiable

ʚ synopsis: Choso accidentally discovers that you can squirt and he’s determined to make you do it over and over again

ʚ cont: fem reader, rough sex, multiple orgasms, squirting, mating press, dirty talk, he talks you though it, inexperienced choso, unprotected sex, cumming inside

ʚ note: another brilliant ask from 🌱 anon <3

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

The position he currently has you folded in is one that has you seeing stars behind your eyes. Your legs are folded against your body while Choso drops the weight of the bottom half of his body down onto your pelvis with each thrust, making his cock assault your sweet spot deep inside you to no end. It felt like your organs had molded to make room for Choso's cock.

His hard pelvis crushed yours each time he thrust into you, his hot skin smashing against your clit, making your walls spasm and squeeze around him ruthlessly. "God, you're so tight-" Choso gritted through his teeth, his hot breath tickling your neck as he whined and groaned against your skin. Each time he bullied his cock into your walls, you felt something coil itself tighter and tighter in your stomach.

It felt deeper and more intense than your usual orgasms, but you were being fucked with such force that you were unable to utter any words, only able to squeeze your arms tightly around your boyfriend's neck and cry choppy moans as he humped into you ruthlessly. "O-oh shit-" Choso's eyes twitched and his eyebrows furrowed as your jaw fell open, mouth forming a big O shape as the ball of tightness in your pelvis burst.

Choso placed his hands on the undersides of your knees and pushed his body up, allowing him to look at the mess you were making on his cock. His eyes opened in shock, his hips not even slowing a bit as he fucked streams of a white liquid out of your cunt. The feeling of you gushing out around him made him bite his lip between his teeth, his balls throbbing as he watched you have an orgasm like you never have before.

You gasped and breathed heavily as you struggled to come down from such an intense high. You placed your hands over your face, mortified and aware of what you just did. Choso paused his hips, relishing in the feeling of your tight cunt throbbing around him in the aftershocks of your orgasm as he struggled to comprehend what just happened. You'd never cum like that before.

A bead of sweat dripped down the side of Choso's face, sliding down his bare neck. His eyes were wide as he stared at your ruined cunt, a little swollen on the outside the force of his thrusts. His abdomen and balls were coated in your cum from when you squirted all over him, the liquid dripping down onto the mattress and joining the wet mess under your bodies.

"What… what was that?" Choso asked, slightly out of breath from how rough he was going. He kept you folded in that intense position, just using your cunt to cockwarm him as he waited for you to respond. Choso stared at your cunt for a few beats longer, and when you didn't respond he dragged his eyes up your body to find your face, which was covered by your hands. "Hey," Choso spoke, releasing the hold he had on one of your thighs, letting it fall over his own as he grabbed your wrist, trying to pull your hand away from your face.

"Baby, what was that? It was so hot, can- can you do it again?" Choso asked, replaying the moment you squirted on him over and over again in your head. You dropped your hands from your face and grabbed his wrist, averting eye contact. You felt your face burn with embarrassment at the thought of explaining what squirting was to him. It wasn't his fault he had little experience in bed and had never watched porn before.

"I just came… that's all." You tried to lie, not wanting to face the mortification of the conversation. Choso cocked his head to the side and looked down between your legs again. The wet spot underneath you had grown as your liquids had seeped into the sheets, making your mess look even worse. "I've never seen you cum like that," Choso responded, a bit skeptical. He felt his cock throb inside you, he wanted to make you do that again, he needed to.

"Fuck Cho…" You cursed, your face scrunching in discomfort. Choso wrapped his arms around one of your legs and placed it over his shoulder, keeping your appendage snug against his body. His cock jolted inside you as he pressed himself deeper, making sure the two of you were as close as possible. "Then, you can do it again right?" You reached out and placed your hands on his lower hips, resting them there.

You shook your head in embarrassment, not wanting to squirt again. "Why not?" Choso asked, almost sounding like he was pouting. "Cho, I squirted, that's what that was." Even after your explanation, Choso still had no idea what that meant, but he did know that both he and his dick liked the sound of it. "That's only happened one other time… when I was touching myself. It's so messy and embarrassing." You explained.

Choso's eyebrows furrowed together, he didn't understand why you thought it was embarrassing. You sure looked like you were feeling good when it happened, so why was it so bad? And the mess? Choso was never one to care about something like that, especially in bed. He fucked sloppily and came buckets all over you every time you had sex.

There was another thought Choso was having though. He was irritated that you had squirted without him, and hadn't told him you had done or could do such an amazing thing. "Well, I think it's hot. I wanna see you do it again please." Choso said, not giving you any time to respond before he pulled his hips back and fucked half of his cock back inside you.

Your nails dug into his hips at the unexpected stimulation. The man above you started at a quick and fast pace, the same one as before. "W-wait Choso-" You tried to cry but your moans fell on deaf ears as Choso's arms wrapped tighter around your leg, keeping you sturdy and close in proximity as he abused your cunt with his cock. You threw your head back against the pillows in pleasure, already feeling something start to well up inside you again.

Choso turned his head against your leg and opened his mouth to press sloppy kisses and lickes on your skin. His eyes were shut tight, eyebrows furrowed together as he molded your pussy to shape his cock. "A-ahhh-" Choso groaned in pleasure against your leg, biting the flesh there before pulling away and cracking his eyes open, looking down at your disheveled form.

"H-how, how do I make you squirt again? Will this help?" Without warning, Choso used one of his hands to rub quick, sloppy circles against your clit with his thumb, his other fingers and palm spread out on your thigh. "God wait- Choso not there-" You gasped, shaking your head back and forth against the pillow, gritting your teeth together.

Choso's choked moans could be heard in his throat, his ragged breathing making you feel dizzy from how hot he sounded. "Y-you're getting tight again, are you gonna squirt?" Choso asked, leaning forward over your body. He placed his hand next to your head to stabilize himself as he continued fucking into you, his thumb ruthlessly rubbing back and forth against your sensitive clit.

"Choso f-fuck, c-choso-" You could do nothing but cry and whine his name as he fucked you in that deep angle again, your one leg folding over his shoulder and dangling weakly by his head, your body limp from all the pleasure he was giving you. "Please squirt again, I wanna see it, I need it." He begged, adjusting his hips against yours so his cock was drilling impossibly deeper inside you.

"Don't be embarrassed i-its, okay, I got you, please just cum." Choso's words were doing wonders on your body. The same feeling of that tight, deep ball was forming inside your pelvis, reading to be released all over Choso and his cock once more. Your eyes could barely stay open as your body took in all the pleasure your eager boyfriend was forcing on you.

"Oh god- oh god-" You winced when you felt it ready to release, you bit down hard on your teeth, your lips parted to show your strained expression, your body going rigid against him all the while Choso kept fucking into you, working you right up to your breaking point. "Yeah, y-yeah yeah-" Choso groaned along with you, fighting the urge to not blow his load before you came.

His eyes were glued to where the two of you were connected as he waited to see that liquid gush from your cunt again. His jaw fell open in a silent scream when your cunt constricted tighter than the first time and that same liquid from before squirted out from around his dick. "Goddd- yesyesyes-" Choso groaned from between his teeth, shaking his head back in forth in disbelief as you squirted all over him.

Not long after you came, Choso followed your lead. His hips stuttered and paused against your cunt, pushing his cock as deep inside you as possible as his balls throbbed and he released load after load of his cum inside you. You shook and spasmed against him, feeling your insides grow warmer as he filled you up with his seed. Your leg slipped off of his shoulder, allowing him to collapse fully against your body as the both of you shook in the aftershocks.

You wrapped your arms around Choso's neck and whined when he weakly thrust his cock in and out of you, using your cunt to milk his balls dry. You were just starting to catch your breath before you heard Choso mumble something against your neck quietly. "Huh?" You managed to force out, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion when Choso pushed himself off your body and placed his hands on either side of your body, looking down at you.

His hair was disheveled, his face all the way down to his chest bright red, and his chest heaved as he fought to catch his breath. "Again." He said, louder this time. Your eyes widened in shock, surely he couldn't be serious, your body felt like jello, you didn't know if you had anything left inside you to give. "N-need you to do that again, just one more time." You swallowed harshly, trying to mentally prepare yourself for Choso's unsatiable cock to drill you all over again.

You felt him twitch inside you, already back to life even though it felt like he had released all he could give you from his balls. You winced and whined when Choso slowly pulled his cock out before pushing it back inside you, relishing in the warmth and gumminess of your now cum soaked walls.

The mess on the bed underneath you was not twice the size, and it was about to get worse when you felt Choso's cum force itself out from around his cock and drip down your ass, joining the mess. Choso found your eyes with his and waited for you to say something as he continued slowly pushing himself in and out of you "One more time." You whispered, holding your finger up in front of you, trying to look stern, but failing. A satisfied grin spread across Choso's features. "One more time." He repeated.

[eloquentlytired]

Logan with a breeding kink fic? 😉

18+ mdni

— raw.

pairing: logan howlett x fem reader

word count: less than 900

tags: unprotected sex — breeding — logan is feral — just filthy smut — risky sex — dom/sub undertones

author’s note: hi anon I hope this was a good read for you. logan having a breeding kink is so incredibly canon honestly

ৎৎৎ

“lo.” you moan as you lie facedown on the bed, legs straight, hips slightly raised. logan enters you from behind and the way he stretches you in this position has you whimpering. one of his large hands puts weight on your head and forces you to bury it against the bedsheets as you sob beneath him. his other hand stays on your middle to kind of support himself as he fucks you, driving his veiny cock into your deepest parts. the bed creaks beneath your moving bodies but you don't seem to care. logan grunts as he feels your pussy clenching around his cock, coating it too with your arousal. “still taking your pills like a good girl?” the shake of your head makes his hips slow down and gradually stop. you tilt your head at an awkward angle to stare at him and he stares back. “w—we ran out.” you whisper, voice still laced with arousal and need. logan weighs his options as his eyes drift downwards where his cock is completed soaked by your wetness and even his pubic hair drip with the doings of your pussy. his bare cock twitches inside you and you moan. “not safe,lo. let's just—”

there's not much you can do in this position when logan starts thrusting again. you take what he gives you and your eyes roll back when the fat head of his cock kisses your sweet spot, making your entire body shake all over. tears of pleasure slide down your cheeks and he leans down to kiss a tender spot on your shoulder before biting down. he grounds his hips in circles and you almost scream. “there— there,lo.” you beg him and he repeats the motion again and again. when your pussy tightens around him as you cum, logan growls into your shoulder and you can sense him growing more feral over you. your hands grip onto the bedsheets for dear life as you drool and cry against the mattress. logan drives his cock faster inside you and a few more thrusts later he fills you up, leaning the weight of his lower body on yours that his cock nudges impossible places within you. it makes you squirm and logan offers you a reassuring kiss as he pants against your shoulder, trying to process the raw feel of your walls around his bare girth.

“fuck.” you hear him curse minutes later and when you look back, your eyes widen. logan slips his softening cock out of your pussy and watches as his own come drips out and over your cunt. you exchange a silent and long stare and then logan is moving you again. you don't know what's happening or why but you're about to.

you've lost count and you've also lost any sanity left for the time being. you drag a hand over your belly as logan pumps his load inside you again, making your thighs shake from where they sit atop his own. you're laying on your back this time while he gets comfortable between your spread legs, breeding you until the late hours. “one last time. I swear,baby.” he lies through his teeth again and you allow it. logan slips his hands underneath your legs and shoves them back until your knees are nearly touching your chest. his cock is still hard and leaking — he'd really done it this time — and he wants to blame your bare cunt for wrapping around his cock so perfectly. you're tired and your pussy feels a little sore but you can't help but reach a wandering hand to your clit and rub it as logan fucks you mercilessly. his balls are heavy and drag against you with each shallow thrust. your entire body shakes and your other hand remains atop your stomach; you're full, so full, and your toes curl when you think about how much of logan’s seed you've stored in your womb.

“lo—” you're letting go again, your entire body spasming as your fingers shake against your swollen clit. logan’s eyes narrow when he watches you squirt beneath him and one of his hands is moving down to toy with your pussy, his fingers moving past yours and past your clit to tease the source of your squirt. it makes you cry and nearly scream. logan feels his balls tighten and before you know it he's already giving it to you again, spilling everything inside your pussy to make it full. to make his seed take place. “lo.” by the time you call for him he's already slipping a hand around your nape, clutching it, while his other hand joins your own on top of your stomach.

your lips meet and logan soothes you. “so pretty, so sweet. you took so much in ya, princess.” and his whispers make you tremble even more as you kiss him back slowly. his kisses are nothing like the way he fucks you; they're slow, patient and gentle. logan hums into your mouth as you wrap your arms around his neck. his fingers flex upon your stomach, even doing so much as squeeze it. he loves it. “how ‘bout we forget about those pills?” logan growls.

his cock doesn't stay soft for long and when his hand presses into your tummy possessively, you know exactly what awaits you.