#one moment they’re just holding hands

[fruitysmellz]

An honest wife and an easily-embarrassed husband 🥰

[eeblouissant]

I’m once again thinking about Rose & Blanche cuddled up next to Dorothy in that one scene

[quietwingsinthesky]

the amount of time i spend thinking about Even carrying the metacrisis doctor’s fob watch is really quite disproportionate to how much ive fleshed out that part of the story in my head

[trevisos]

see and i guess the thing that makes me crazy about the whole relearning intimacy is that xarrai is doing the same thing. in different ways and for different reasons they are both people who have almost never been touched if not for pain or sex or some other sort of Use. and i think that for the two of them that shared experience makes the whole thing like… almost kind of funny? here we are, two guys who are supposed to be experts at intimacy, and we’re giggling like schoolgirls after the most chaste little kiss. it’s all just another joke only the two of them are in on, another conspiratorial little moment they share. or at least it’s easier to see it that way than to see it for what it Is (being madly in love)

[chastiefoul]

how they'd react when you wanted to sleep on the couch... just because.

fluff. light-hearted ft. gojo, nanami, sukuna, suguru, toji, choso

satoru

“baby scooch over.” a whispered voice along with a gentle nudge on the shoulder woke you from your dozed off state. “hmm?” you mumbled out, blinking your terribly heavy lids open although to no avail they’re begging to keep themselves shut. satoru glanced at you with a frown on his eyes with a pillow held close to his body. “scooch over baby,” he pleaded, kneeling beside the couch you’re currently lying on.

“go back to bed toru,” you said softly, tugging your blanket closer. “but you’re not there,” he whined, intertwining his hand with yours as he attacked it with kisses, not letting you go back to sleep, especially if it’s without him. “i thought you said you’re going to be fine?” you asked, jogging the memory of him being all smug while saying you could do whatever you wanted. “that was not me, i would never say that,” he said promptly and goodness you didn’t know before someone’s lips could turned that much downward. you chuckled breathily, knowing this will happen sooner or later.

you scooted over on the big couch, leaving him the space he’d been begging for. you could have sworn you heard a squeal before you’re wrapped in satoru’s warm hold, his head resting snugly atop of yours. “no sleeping on here anymore. not without me,” he said into your hair, kissing it softly.

❀

nanami

“but why, love?” he asked, having a hard time comprehending your wish to sleep alone on the living room only because... you randomly wanted to? you chuckled looking at his bewildered face, an expression of someone who’s probably racking his brain upside down thinking that he’s done something wrong. “ken, i promise it’s just because i feel like it and no reason other than that.” you cupped his face, planting a soft kiss on his nose.

nanami looked a little relieved, albeit sullen, hesitant in asking whether he could invite himself in or you wanted a little time for yourself. and when it’s finally time to sleep it’s becoming more obvious that your lover wasn’t going to make it easy for you.

“need any more blanket honey?” he asked tapping the head of the couch as he stood there a tad nervous, knowing full well you got everything you needed since he insisted to be the one to prepare it. pillows, blanket, a hot drink, he’s got it all for you. “i’m perfect here, ken. you can go to bed,” you said with a reassuring smile, yet it did the opposite effect to the man.

“can i be here until you sleep, my love? it’s just that i feel like i wouldn’t be able to rest properly until i see you do the same.” he stroke your cheek softly with his thumb, and when you leaned into his touch he knew he’s gone for you. that there’s no way he could be asleep if he went back to the bedroom in that moment—unless you’re with him, of course. though, he didn’t say this, he just continued combing through your strands of hair, loving the peaceful expression on your face.

and unfortunately for the blond man, when it comes to these things his thoughts were written all over his face. you already caught on the fact that he wanted to lie down with you there yet his wish in prioritizing your wants refrained him from speaking his. you laughed a little, feeling a burst of fondness towards the tall man.

“on a second thought, can you sleep here with me ken?” he moved as quick as the sentence ended, already making his way under the blanket. he sneaked a hand around your waist, pressing your body closer against him. “i was kind of hoping you’d ask,” he mumbled, slightly embarrassed. you snuggled closer to his chest, feeling utmost comfort as he rubbed your back gently.

“i know.”

❀

sukuna

not even ten minutes in trying to sleep on the said couch, sukuna had already carried you back towards your shared bedroom.

“but-“

“no.”

he put you on the bed gently, then he draped a blanket over as he tucked you in. sukuna has that look of a man who’s determined in keeping you there, and you already knew it’s a fight you could not win thus, you turned for another plan instead: pouting.

even until he got beside you as he rested his big hand on your stomach, you refused to look at him, crossing your hands in front of your chest. he sighed, “give me one good reason i should let you sleep out there,” he said exasperatedly. “cause i want some me time?” you claimed. even you weren’t sure why you’re battling him so hard on this.

“then have it here in this bed with me. you’ll get all cold later and cling to me later anyways. i’m just speeding up the process.” he replied, already closing his eyes.

“what a strange way of saying you couldn’t sleep without me,” you said, with a grin on your face. the feeling of his thumb moving against your skin brought you immense comfort, your impulsive plan long forgotten.

“if you already knew that then quit making it harder for me, brat.”

❀

toji

he stared at you who’s already making yourself comfortable on the couch, amused. “looking cozy there,” he said with a grin, a face of someone who’s up to no good. “yeah, it’s actually not ba-“ the sentence was cut off was your own squeal, toji had picked you up as he took your lying down position and put you top of him.

“you could’ve just asked first!” you fumed, hitting his bicep—which did more to you and it did him, how could one even get their muscle to be as hard as that? he just chuckled in response, putting a hand around your waist. “sorry doll, got too excited,” he said lazily, already seemed all happy, like he had all he needed.

and he did, with you close to him resting your head on his chest, knowing that you loved counting his heartbeat. the man was truly content.

“we really should get a bigger couch,” you mumbled. we should get everything you wanted, toji thought. but it’d be a bit much to say in the moment so instead he just continued rubbing your sides until you dozed off, plunging into the dream land.

“sleep.”

❀

suguru

“whatcha got there baby?” he asked, an easy smile on his face. there’s really no day with you where you didn’t make him tilt his head questioningly. “’m going to sleep here tonight,” you said, fluffing the pillow before lying down on it comfortably.

“okay, where’s mine then?”

“your what?”

“my pillow. you didn’t bring mine along yours?”

“oh well i just thought you’d want to sleep in the bed anyway?” you replied, and suguru looked like you just insulted him deeply. the couch dipped, he then lied down beside you on the same pillow, making him extra close as he embraced you. “i sleep where you sleep baby, you make me this way. i can no longer rest when i don’t get to hold you close like this,” he said softly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

you have a big smile on your face as he said this, inhaling his familiar scent as you put your arms around him. “that better not be a complaint,” you said, cuddling closer to the man.

“never.” he kissed your temple.

❀

choso

it seriously look like it killed him when he had to walk away from the room, leaving you to sleep by yourself on the couch. his steps were excruciatingly slow, taking as much time as he could in case you changed your mind.

“cho?” you almost laughed looking at the way he perked up, a hopeful expression on his face. “can you turn off the light on your way?” and it almost felt too cruel the way the sparkle on his eyes dimmed, his shoulders beyond slumped. he then practically had to drag his own feet before letting out a small nod.

you chuckled, couldn’t keep up with the teasing anymore. “i’m kidding baby, do you wanna get in here?” you lifted up the blanket, patting the empty space next to you. it was the fastest you’ve ever seen him, as he’s beside you in no time.

he clinged to you tightly, like he’s making sure as much of his skin made contact with yours, a satisfied smile on his face. his hair tickled your neck nicely, as you traced the area below his eye with back of your finger.

“next time you want something just ask, cho.”

[screampied]

☆ cw. fem! reader, husband nanami, dad bod, mating press, protected -> unprotected, size kink, bręeding, praise, mdni.

it’s something hot about how husband! nanami just isn’t aware of how big he really is.

he’s insanely thick - easily stretching you with only just a few vast inches inviting its way in between your slippery entrance. the rubbery tip of the condom nearly snags against your gripping insides as he moves, hovering his soft weight above you. heavy, rushed pants of breath drag out from each lung as he looks down at you lovingly. just a mere glimpse of you, and he’s already ready to propose to you all over again.

“f.. fuck, sweetheart. hold on t’ me.” he’d grunt with two beefy arms held against either side of you.

curled twines of blond hair paint a nice bushy portion of his chest like a canvas. it starts near his neck before trailing further down toward his plump abdomen. nanami’s tucking his head into the crook of your shoulder, silently gasping at each veiny inch that disappears inside. “k- kento,” you moan, one of your legs hooking around his wide snapping waist. he’s hesitant before his hands pull your legs way up to your chest. “mmp- don’t stop, baby.”

“hah- promise,” he groans through clenched teeth, his jaw locking by the second. the stretch he creates was so good that it’s got nanami falling right into your chest. his body was practically akin to a pillow, and he’s squishing himself on top of you before your cunt squeezes around him. fuck- fuck- fuck- that same word chants in his empty brain, nearly slipping out a hoarse whimper at how slick you coated the entirety of his cock. “c’mon, sweetheart. open for me like ‘y always do. gooood, biiiig stretch for kento.”

but as he’s gradually bucking his unsteady hips into you while gently placing a hand on top of your tummy, the two of you are met with a loud abrupt ‘snaaap!’ sound, and nanami pauses.

literally - the condom pitifully snaps apart, ignoring gravity as the now ruined rubber tightens around his shaft. nanami’s panting in your neck as his entire body quivers over you before he mumbles out a raspy, “o.. oh.. shit.”

it’s rare for him to swear, but at that particular moment, you throbbed, impatiently chewing on the skin that lived on your bottom lip.

your bare heel rubs soothing circles around his tense back muscles as you suddenly meet his lustful gaze.

his eyes - they’re shining almost. the more you peer into his fawn, almond eyes, the more you got lost in his gentle, ardent stare.

“i- it’s okay,” you’d breathlessly mumble, feeling his dick retreat its way out of your sopping pussy. it’s a loud, sobbing ‘pshs’ sound that slops from your vocal pussy before you shakily whimper, “go raw, ken.”

“hah- dirty girl,” he’d groan, pressing three wet open-mouthed kisses against your temple. in immediate response, your body shudders underneath him as you hear as you feel him starting to shuffle.

with a single veiny hand, nanami snatches the snugly-fit condom off of his length before tossing it in the nearby trash bin. “ ‘m not sure if i’d last long…my lo- oh fuuuck.”

nanami’s dead silent.

shallow, shaky breath falls from his rose-colored lips as the v-shaped head of his blushing cock lightly taps against your slobbery cunt.

you’re so soaked, abundantly pouring from all sides as your legs remain prettily spread and folded. nanami himself couldn’t help but stare, openly gawking as he’s slowly creating a nasty full thrust.

just one-

a single thrust that’s making you both fall against each other at once. he’s laid right over your body, being careful not to crush you as he grunts at the occasional clenches of your cunt.

the best way to describe nanami was like a teddy bear, so soft ‘n round from all angles. with him having you in mating press, you’re feeling all of his weight plummet down onto you, each pound of his cock becoming deeper within every swallowing inch. it’s got you speechless, moaning continuously as a few strands of his chest hair collide against your skin.

“mmpf- s.. so big, ‘ken,” you’d moan, twisting your toes in anticipation at the raw friction.

he’s so big - even bigger without the rubber it seemed, and you gasped once you felt his soft foreskin slide its way inside. truth be told though, you’d never get used to his size no matter how many times he’s stuffed you full. your gummy convulsing walls merrily greeted nanami’s shaft as your arms wrapped around his rounded belly. “ugh- there, right fuckin’ thereee.”

“god- woman, you’re just.. huuh- askin’ for another baby,” nanami grumbles, blond brows creasing together as he tenderly rubs a wide palm in a circle around your tummy.

his dick’s thoroughly massaging through you perfectly, and he’s sucking his teeth at the natural feeling. your slickness coats him so good, and he’s still got you in the lewdest mating press with your knees shoved against your chest. “ ‘s that what you want, princess?” and as he speaks, his voice lowers, feeling your tummy anxiously tuck inward. “you’d look so pretty again all plump.”

with a look of meek, you cup his face, gently stroking a thumb over the crack of his parted, pouty lips. “mhm-” you’d nod, holding in a gasp once he presents your pussy with one vigorous thrust.

it’s sharp- and you whimper at how his cockhead slammed itself deep against your clit. as your thighs frantically shook, nanami holds them up before playfully tilting his head at your response.

“mhm?” he repeats your little mumble, a hiss nearly slipping through his clenched teeth as he pulls out before sloppily pulling back in.

the slimy squelches that followed were just the definition of wet. each dramatic-sounding squelch that yelped out between your legs had nanami on the verge of shooting blanks right then and there. not just there and there but inside you, too.

as dewdrops of sweat dribble from all sides of his head, nanami presses a sticky wet kiss against the crevice of your mouth. “use those pretty words, i wanna.. wanna hear my sloppy wife talk to me nice.”

“k— kentooo, please,” you’d whimper, writhing underneath his soft body. he’s pressed up against you, practically suffocating your body with his huggable warmth. each barreling inch he spent inside you had you drooling from the inside of your mouth. nanami hums, sneaking a kiss on your damp lips before feeling you claw a hand down his chiseled back. “hah- cum inside. f- fuck me.”

exactly at your sweet pleading words, you felt his dick throb inside of you. it’s more of a sporadic twitch, and it makes you let off a cute ‘ooooh!’

nanami slumps his head in between your sore jiggling breasts, sliding a tongue down the crack of your chest before groaning. “f.. fuck, when you ask me like that, can’t r- resist, honey,” and his voice dripped with such sensuous desire. nanami’s shaft greedily kisses its way against your pearled clit before his entire body erupts into vicious shakes.

he knew he wouldn’t last long at all - especially raw because once he’s starting to swell from the very tip, he’s gutturally groaning right between your tits. gluey golden strands of hair tickled against you as he’s cumming hard, whimpering into your chest.

nanami’s entire body quakes violently, and his thrusts switch from rhythmic to pathetically sloppy within seconds..

even still, you’re folded in such a pretty way, taking each slobbery drop that fills into your cunt deeply, and you moaned once his dripping tongue glides a path down toward your sensitive nipples. “mmph-” he’d grunt, muffling himself as he’s still dumping such a thick load.

nanami guides a hand down between your legs, smearing the back of his wedding ring against your flooding pussy. with a loud pop! your nipple wetly plops out between his lips and he holds still.

“take it, sweetheart. ‘s all for you,” nanami lowly whispers against your clammy chest, his heavy eyelids flapping shut. your warmth - it’s so balmy inside, and he’s already shuddering once his leaky tip sprinkles the final remnants of cum deep into your womb. it leaves a beautiful dry taste in his mouth, and nanami uses a thumb to spread a flap of your folds apart. “she’s s- so pretty.”

“f- fuck..” you’d suck in a airy moan, panting at the pitching faint spurts of wetness that echoes through your ears. gooey, thin torrents of cum run down the opening of your cunt as he pulls out, and you gasp once nanami suddenly flips you over.

now - you’re laid on your chest with your hips raised, ass arched up, and your neck most certainly raised.

“hah- forgive…me,” nanami throatily murmurs, using the back of his wedding ring once more to slither down your cream-coated pussy. his tone, it’s far lower this time—raspy with a bit of a smoky airiness to it.

oh- you were just an entire mess. he’s already licking his lips as he takes in the beauty of his wife’s backside, immediately feeling his sensitive dick twitch at the coarse, arching sight.

the way his cum just messily cascades down between your syrupy slit, splattering onto the silk white sheets in the process - he wanted more..

nanami hungrily rolls out his tongue before licking your pussy from top to bottom—shamelessly relishing in his bittersweet taste that soaks against his sizzling buds. the viscous mess glitters a sheeny filthy coat onto his pursed lips before he huffs, sitting back up.

with a soft little tap, you whine, feeling the familiar upturned curve of nanami’s hardened tip smack against your cum-slobbering entrance again and again..

“arch a bit more for me. atta girl, mhm- let’s.. hah- aim for triplets this time, my love..”

[bruciemilf]

Scary boyfriend privilege? No. Scary sons privilege.

Bruce who can’t go anywhere without his newly adopted ward. He follows Bruce like a sunny shadow, grin always in place.

“Dick, can I hold your hand when we cross the street?”

Dick, very sweetly, “No.”

Bruce sighs, but accepts easily. Some guy scoffs at that and asks Bruce if he’ll let his kid just talk to him like that. His kid. His heart hurts in a very good way.

He’s about to say something, but Dick interrupts him, his teeth bared full, “Weren’t you on the news for hitting an old lady with your car?”

Bruce freezing. Dick goes back to his gameboy. They hold hands when they cross the street.

It’s both scary and comforting how little he changes when he’s an adult.

Jason, on the other hand.

Although he refuses to admit it, he does follow Bruce around, too, when his dad actually has to leave the manor. It’s when Alfred says he needs sun.

“You signed a contract, sir.”

Bruce sighing, “I signed it when I was 4. In black crayon. Those don’t count.”

Damian gasped, as if discovering a vile fact, sending an accusing glare Bruce’s way. “They don’t?”

Bruce needs an excuse to haul ass fast and that’s how Jason ends up chaperoning his socially awkward, disaster of a father in his quest to pick up food.

He’s a titanic presence next to Bruce, glaring off whoever stares a little too long or too appreciatively, strong arms crossed and his eyes hard and sharp.

Bruce gently taps his bicep and he hates the way he melts. “Do you want the chicken nuggets with or without apple slices?”

“Without.”

“Jay.”

“FINE.”

Give Jason his “he asked for No pickles” moment. It has to embarrass Bruce enough to jump in traffic, thought.

Damian has his own league and none of them can really compete with it. I think, during parent’s night, he drags Bruce off to proudly showcase his gallery of portraits.

Bruce is very moved when he realizes they’re almost all him.

There’s portraits of Dick, too, and Alfred, and a comically bad one of Tim. “Damian, they’re very beautiful. Thank you.”

“I painted them with the blood of your enemies.”

“…Thank you.”

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you’re heavily pregnant with sukuna’s child and so desperately need to have your specific pregnancy cravings: mangoes. when you realise you’re out of them, you turn into an emotional mess.

tags. true form!sukuna x wife!female reader. fluff, sfw. pregnancy. size difference (reader referred to as small). reader gets called ‘woman, brat’ wc: 1.8k

you’re crying in your chambers, the volume of your cries overshadowing sukuna’s arrival at the estate. you hiccup and sniffle as you sit in the corner of the master bedroom. there really doesn’t seem to be an end to your mental breakdown.

you’re prone to mood changes because of your pregnancy, already being seven months along. your belly is as round as a globe as it sticks out from under your kimono.

you hold onto your lower abdomen while mumbling to yourself. “not fair,” you rub your blurry eyes with your free hand.

the bedroom doors suddenly swing open. you lift your head from your knees and make eye contact with your husband who looks rather . . . upset. more upset than you are at the moment, that’s for sure.

you whimper as his big and intimidating stature dwarfs over yours while you’re stuck in the corner. when you look up at him, you cry even louder. seeing that familiar face after two whole days of suffering in this place alone gets you even more emotional.

after sukuna entered the room, his gaze had immediately fell upon your quivering figure. he raises an eyebrow as you cry louder once you spot him, the sound breaking his ear drums. he lets out a sharp exhale, a hint of annoyance seeping into his tone.

“enough with the tears,” sukuna grumbles as he crosses the room in a few long strides. his presence is both imposing and protective as he looms over your small figure.

his eyes flicker over your body—taking in the sight of your round belly. he can’t deny that the view makes his shoulders relax, relieved to see his wife do well after two days without seeing you.

sukuna kneels down before you, his eyes narrowing as he notices the tears running down your cheeks. who knows how long you’ve been sobbing? the realisation that no one has checked on you while you’ve been crying like this irks him.

the king of curses will make sure that every single servant - and especially the ones assigned to you - pay for not noticing your sour mood sooner.

“damn it, woman,” sukuna curses under his breath, his words laden with both irritation and a sense of concern, “what’s gotten into you now, hmm? why the blubbering mess?"

you hiccup, gasping for air as sukuna kneels down to your level, something he rarely does. one of his hands reach out to wipe a tear from your cheek, his expression stoic and unreadable while he does so.

“welcome home,” you utter, remembering to greet him properly. you wipe your own tears away and try to explain the situation without it sounding absurd. “i—i went down to the kitchen to get som-something,” you stammer, trying to spit it out before sukuna’s irritation spikes.

“but they didn’t have the food i craved—they’re out of mangoes,” your wailing starts again just at the thought of your non existent fruit. it felt like the most devastating moment in your life when the maids told you that they were out of mangoes.

sukuna’s annoyance quickly dissolves upon hearing your explanation. the revelation that you’re crying over mangoes seems so unbelievable, so absurd, that he couldn't help but let out a dry huff of laughter. an amused smirk tugs at the corners of his lips.

the pink haired man brushes the remnants of the tears away from your face. his rough fingers pause at your chin, giving it a light tap. “mangoes, huh? y’re out here bawling y’r fucking eyes out like a baby for some damn mangoes?”

despite his tough exterior, sukuna knows that pregnancy hormones often amplified emotions, making even the smallest things a cause for crying. and right now, you’re stressing and sputtering over some mangoes.

“mangoes,” you nod and cry softly, watching as sukuna rubs your cheeks with his manly fingers, enjoying his rough touch. you easily guess by just the increased toughness of his calluses that your husband has worked hard while he was gone.

though, mangoes are your current pregnancy craving and not having them meant war to you. it’s all you can focus on—even if your beloved sukuna is right in front of you.

“i need them,” you whine and pout. your hormones made it difficult for you to calm down.

you do, however, try your best to stop crying. you clean your face with the sleeve of your kimono and bite on your bottom lip to refrain from bawling your eyes out for the nth time. “i want my mangoes,” your voice is hoarse as you glance up at sukuna, “please?”

sukuna hates to admit it, but his expression softens upon hearing the hoarse tone of your pleading voice. the view of your tear-streaked face and the knowledge that you’re experiencing pregnancy cravings makes it difficult for him to maintain his usual firm demeanor.

the king of curses sighs, his annoyance replaced by a reluctant acceptance of your plight. “tsk, damn it,” he mutters, lazily resting his head against the palm of one of his hands, “y’re really gonna make me fetch you some mangoes?”

here you are, a grown woman crying and begging like a kid for a sweet, juicy mango. he’s seen you in many states - happy, sad, tired, excited - but never quite as emotionally overwhelmed just for a piece of fruit. sukuna’s large hand reaches out to pat your head in a surprisingly gentle manner, a rare display of his softer side.

you pout at sukuna and lean into his touch as he pats your head. you come up with something witty to say, as you always do. “well, you’re the one who got me pregnant,” you comment in a teasing way, sticking your tongue out at your husband.

no matter what sour mood you’re in, you can still be sassy. though it doesn’t last long before your bottom lip trembles again. “i can’t do anything about it. the baby craves mangos,” you whine as you rub your baby bump to emphasise your words.

you are eating for two people after all—for you and the baby.

sukuna’s smirk widened at your retort and the playful gesture. even in your distraught state, you had the audacity to sass him. damn cheeky little woman.

the pink-haired man chuckled darkly, his hand clumsily ruffling your hair again before pulling away. “‘n i don’t regret a thing. even if i gotta put up with y’r cranky ass.”

you roll your eyes at sukuna’s reply. you know you’re an emotional mess, but you couldn’t care less. anything for your mangoes—those juicy ones that you could eat a dozen of in one sitting.

“the maids said that the mangoes were out of stock in the towns ‘nd villages nearby,” you continue while you carefully stand up from the corner. you’re trying your best to stay rational. you’re extremely hungry and haven’t eaten ever since breakfast. that’s how stubborn you are being.

“but i’m hungryyyyy. want my mangoes,” you sigh and nearly stomp your feet out of frustration.

“yeah, yeah—fuckin’ hell,” sukuna groans, watching you slowly stand up, your pregnant belly protruding like a perfect sphere. it’s a constant reminder of the effect he has on you, and somehow, it makes him proud.

he helps you stand up by holding onto your arm, sharp eyes focused on your body to make sure you don’t strain a single muscle.

after you manage to stand up straight, you walk with sukuna to the kitchen to find something to eat—perhaps some other fruit will satisfy your cravings for now.

sukuna follows behind you, his steps long and leisurely while your shorter strides keep the pace with him. as the two of you walked towards the kitchen, he continues to listen to your repeated mantra. it’s driving him insane.

“mangoes, mangoes, mangoes. i get it, brat,” the king of curses swears he can feel the vein in his forehead throb. you’re lucky that he . . . tolerates you as his wife.

it’s something more than just ‘tolerating’ you, of course. but openly admitting to loving you, even in the slightest, is something sukuna would never do.

if someone would ask him why he goes the extra mile for you, his answer would be that it’s simply because you’re carrying his heir. however only sukuna knows the full truth, the sappy secret he’ll forever keep to himself.

before you arrive at the kitchen, you bump into uraume. they glance from sukuna to you and bow. “good day,” they greet you with as much respect as they do to sukuna. they’ve been doing so ever since you gained your title as his wife.

the king of curses folds all four of his arms over his chest. his lower pair of eyes are still focused on your impatient self, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. he just knows you’re holding yourself back from asking for your active pregnancy craving again.

sukuna clicks his tongue and nods his head at you while he speaks to uraume. “keep an eye on her while ‘m gone. feed her what she wants,” he says in his deep voice, his tone commanding and firm.

uraume remains quiet for a second. sukuna had recently came back from a mission and is once again heading out for some ambiguous reason, but they know better than to question their master.

“where are you going, hubby?”

you of course, get a free pass. you don’t hesitate at all before questioning your husband. sukuna scoffs when he hears your voice ask him that in such an oblivious manner. you should’ve known where he was departing to.

“where’d you think, smartass?” he pinches your nose, causing you to swat his fingers away out of instinct. he gives up on your nose and moves to squeeze your cheeks together in a gentle yet firm manner.

you huff at his antics. sukuna grins at your frown and pout before releasing your jawline with a faint push.

“you better hold on ‘til i come back with y’r stupid mangoes,” he scoffs while turning around to walk to the entrance, “and when i do, i don’t wanna hear ‘nother squeak, understood?”

sukuna seems to have made another mission for himself; find his heavily pregnant wife mangoes before she goes absolutely insane.

your face lights up and you nod repeatedly. your heart melts when you realise that sukuna is actually putting effort to satisfy your needs. he may be harsh and stern at times, but his actions speak louder than his words.

“okay! love you, ‘kuna!” you call out to your lover while he disappears behind the gates. as expected, your words are met by silence.

that’s fine with you. not hearing an ‘i love you’ back doesn’t hurt you as much as it did at the start of your relationship.

you know sukuna cherishes you in his own special way. if he didn’t, you’d be dead long time ago. on top of that, he would not go out on a hunt for mangoes right after coming back home if he didn’t like you.

you know sukuna would let the world burn for you.

[falesten-iw]

When I first joined Tumblr, I had no idea what I was walking into. There’s no manual for navigating this wild, untamed corner of the internet. My first moment here? I was greeted by an image completely naked, no warning, no explanation. It was just there, bold and unapologetic. That’s when I realized: Tumblr is a place where anything can happen.

But for all its chaos, Tumblr has become something far greater than I ever expected. For us Palestinians, this platform isn’t just a space to scroll through memes or vent about life. It’s a lifeline, a place where we’ve taken the raw, messy energy of this site and turned it into a battleground for survival. Here, we tell our stories, raise funds, and fight for our lives.

I’ve seen campaigns soar past their goals, bringing hope to families barely holding on. But I’ve also seen campaigns like mine, ones that fight tooth and nail for every single dollar, every reblog, every addition, and every ounce of hope. My family’s lives depend on this.

It hasn’t been easy. Zionists flood all Palestinian words with hate, twisting truths and spreading lies. They aim to discredit us, to make people doubt us. It’s exhausting. Some nights, I sit with my phone in my hands, wondering if this fight is too big for me. But then something beautiful happens: a donation comes through, a kind message appears, or someone I’ve never met reblogs my story with words that feel like a warm embrace.

And through it all, people are starting to see the truth. The hate doesn’t drown us; it sharpens our voices. Every day, more people step forward to stand with us, to say, “I see you, I hear you, and I’m with you.” It’s those moments that keep me going.

To everyone who has already helped, whether through verification, donating, wrting post , reblogging, or simply sharing a kind word: thank you. You’ve done more for my family than I could ever put into words. But the reality is, we’re not there yet. My family is still waiting for a chance to breathe, to live without fear, to fill their empty stomachs with warm food, and to wrap themselves in clothes thick enough to keep out the bitter cold. They’re hungry, they’re freezing, and I can’t do this alone.

This fight is hard, but it’s not hopeless. Strangers have become friends, and friends have become family. Some of you have shown up in ways I never imagined, treating my family’s survival as if it were your own. That kind of solidarity? It’s powerful.

Tumblr might be chaotic, unpredictable, and sometimes downright bizarre, but it’s also the place where we’ve built something extraordinary: a community that refuses to look away from injustice. With your help, we can take this fight all the way. My family’s lives are within reach, and together, I know we’ll get there.

This campaign isn’t just about me. It supports 26 people, including two orphaned children and an injured family member suffering from hemiplegia after being hit by shrapnel during a bombing. Surgery is desperately needed to replace the infected and failing plates. The needs are urgent, and the future of 26 lives depends on your support.

The video showing the injured family member is shared before in this post: Link.

Please help us ! Donate and reblog this post to spread our story.

Vetted and shared by @90-ghost: Link.

Verified and shared by @el-shab-hussein: Link

Listed as number 282 in "The Vetted Gaza Evacuation Fundraiser Spreadsheet" compiled by @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi : Link

Listed on the Butterfly Effect Project, number 957: Link

Additionally, Al Jazeera News has documented apart of my family's case: Link

If, for some reason, you couldn't donate via GoFundMe, you can donate via PayPal instead. Please keep the conversion rates in mind when donating through GoFundMe. Every 100 SEK is equivalent to 10 dollars, and 200 SEK equals 20 dollars and so on.

Note: There’s even a raffle for a handmade Palestinian thob if you want to participate : Link

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[sonarspace]

❝ BABY COME OVER HERE AND RIDE IT OUT ! ❞

꒰ synopsis. love isn’t the only thing they’re giving you tonight.

featuring. nanami. gojo. choso. geto. sukuna. toji. (separate)

warnings. mdni. nsfw. oral (f. receiving). fingering. teasing. kinda rough sex. unprotected sex. kinda overstimulation. size kink. food play (toji's)

an. made this kinda long since i haven't been posting much so i hope you guys enjoy !

❦ KENTO NANAMI

nanami asks you every year, like clockwork. it doesn’t matter that you wear his ring, that you wake up tangled with him every morning, his legs hooked around yours beneath the sheets, or that his touch is already written into your skin like a vow. he still does it. like it’s the first time.

"be my valentine."

his voice is low, rasping, the first thing you hear before you even open your eyes. the morning light spills through the curtains, catching the sharp angles of his face, his blond hair glowing in the soft haze. he’s already dressed, standing beside the bed with one knee pressed into the mattress, a bouquet of flowers in his hands. not something rushed, not a last-minute grab. he chooses them carefully, every year, arranging them with the precision he applies to everything in his life—especially you.

your fingers ghost over the petals before curling around his wrist, tugging him closer. his lips part just slightly, his jaw tightening as his eyes flick between your face and your grip on him.

"always."

the word barely leaves your lips before he’s leaning down, pressing his mouth to the inside of your wrist, then your temple, then your lips—lingering, savoring, like he’s etching the moment into his memory.

dinner is familiar, comfortable in its ritual. candlelight flickers against polished silverware, the low hum of conversation surrounding you, the occasional clink of glass. nanami sits across from you, his presence sharp even in his silence. he’s composed, refined, but his attention is heavy, a weight you feel pressing into your skin.

his hand remains firm on your thigh beneath the table, fingers kneading the fabric of your dress, thumb drawing absentminded circles against your skin. he watches you sip your wine, his golden eyes tracking the movement, darkening as your lips part around the rim of the glass, your tongue flicking out to catch a stray drop of red.

"you're quiet," you muse, setting your glass down.

his gaze lifts, sharp and unreadable. "just watching."

the rasp in his voice makes your stomach tighten, heat blooming low in your belly. his fingers flex against your thigh, pressing just a little harder. he doesn’t say anything else, but you can feel the storm gathering behind his composure.

you don’t even make it five steps past the front door before he’s on you.

"you have no idea," he growls against your throat, his breath hot, his body pressing you back against the door. his hands grip your thighs, lifting you effortlessly, and you let out a gasp as your legs wrap around his waist. he holds you up like you weigh nothing, like you belong there.

"how fucking hard it was to sit through dinner."

his lips trail along your jaw, down your throat, sucking bruises into your skin without a care. he doesn’t want you to hide them.

"kento—"

"shh."

his hips roll into you, slow, deliberate, the thick weight of his cock pressing against your core through his slacks. the pressure makes you shiver, your fingers fisting into his shirt.

"you were testing me."

his voice is lower now, a growl buried deep in his chest. his hands tighten where they grip you.

"sat there all night, acting innocent, knowing you weren’t wearing anything under that dress."

his hand slides between your bodies, fingers pressing against your slit, cupping your heat through the thin material. his jaw clenches, breath hitching as he feels the wetness seeping through.

"fuck."

he presses harder, rubbing slow, teasing circles over your clit.

"this all for me?"

you nod, whimpering, nails digging into his broad shoulders. his belt clinks, his slacks fall, and then he’s pressing the flushed head of his cock against your entrance, dragging it through your slick, teasing, torturing.

"gonna take me like a good girl?"

your body trembles, and he smirks.

"course you are."

then he sinks in.

your eyes go wide, your back arching, nails scraping down his back as he stretches you open, inch by inch.

"oh, fuck."

nanami shudders, stilling for a moment, his head falling to your shoulder, his hands gripping your hips tight enough to bruise.

"so fucking tight."

he pulls back just enough before thrusting forward, burying himself to the hilt.

your head snaps back, mouth falling open, a breathless sound caught in your throat.

"mine," he growls, his pace deep, steady, brutal. calculated, like he’s making up for lost time, like he needs you to feel him in your bones.

his hands are everywhere—gripping your thighs, holding you still, keeping you pinned against the door as he drives into you. you’re gasping, whimpering, clutching at him, and he laughs, dark and low in your ear.

"such a needy little thing."

he grinds into you, so deep you feel him in your stomach, his forehead pressing against yours, golden eyes locked onto you, watching you break apart on his cock.

"gonna cum for me?" his thumb slides down, pressing against your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles. "gonna make a mess all over me?"

your body tenses, pleasure slamming into you, your orgasm ripping through you like a live wire, leaving you shaking in his arms.

"fuck—fuck, kento—!"

"oh, fuck," he pants, his hips stuttering, losing rhythm, and then he’s spilling inside you, grinding in deep, making you take all of it.

his grip softens, hands moving to smooth over your skin, his mouth pressing slow, lingering kisses against your shoulder, your collarbone, the corner of your lips.

"every damn year," he whispers again, softer this time, like a promise.

like next year, he’ll ask again.

and next year, you’ll say yes.

❦ SATORU GOJO

when you wake up, there’s a handwritten note on your pillow. messy scrawl, a little smudged, but the message is clear.

'be mine?'

when you step into the kitchen, he’s already there, leaning against the counter, sipping from a coffee cup, watching you with that familiar smirk. his hair is still tousled from sleep, white strands sticking up in every direction, and his robe is hanging loosely off his shoulders, like he didn’t bother to tie it properly.

“so?” he tilts his head, expectant. “what’s your answer?”

you roll your eyes, setting the note down beside your mug. “who else would i say yes to?”

he hums, stepping closer, fingers grazing your waist, warm and easy, like he has all the time in the world. “smart girl.” his lips brush over your temple, soft, but there’s something heavier behind it—the way his hands slide lower, gripping at your hips like he’s already thinking about something else.

“y’know,” he murmurs, voice dropping, “i’ve been craving something sweet all morning.”

you barely have time to react before he grips the back of your thighs and lifts you onto the counter, stepping between your legs.

“satoru—”

“shh, lemme have my breakfast first.”

he kneels between your thighs, pushing them apart, sliding your panties down your legs with agonizing patience.he keeps his eyes on you, watching, waiting, his breath warm against your skin as his fingers trace up the inside of your thighs, slow and deliberate.

“fuck,” he breathes, fingertips pressing into your skin as he stares at your slick folds like he’s starving.

he parts you with his thumbs, his tongue flicking out, teasing at your clit before pulling back just to see the way you react. you shudder, hands gripping at the counter, thighs threatening to close, but he stops you with a firm grip.

“nah, sweetheart, lemme see all of you,” he mutters, holding you open, licking another slow, deliberate stripe up your cunt. your head falls back, a breathless moan slipping past your lips as he starts to eat you like he’s savoring something decadent.

he hums against you, like he’s enjoying himself just as much as you are. his tongue circles your clit before sucking it into his mouth, groaning at the way your body reacts. his fingers slide up, spreading you wider as he licks into you, wet and filthy, taking his time.

your fingers tangle into his soft hair, pulling, and he just groans into you, sending vibrations through your core.

he eats like he’s starving, sucking and licking, dragging it out, making sure to taste every inch of you. when he slips his tongue inside, fucking into you with slow, deep strokes, you let out a choked gasp, legs trembling around his shoulders.

his grip tightens, holding you still, keeping you open as he flicks his tongue over your clit again, faster now, relentless.

“satoru, i—”

“mmm, c’mon, baby,” he groans, pressing his face deeper, tongue pressing against your clit, sucking hard. “gimme what i want.”

your body tenses, thighs squeezing around his head as pleasure slams into you all at once, breaking you open. you cry out, grinding against his mouth, and he groans, licking you through it, dragging it out, refusing to stop until you’re trembling against him.

when he finally pulls away, he licks his lips, smirking, eyes blown wide as he stares up at you.

“fuck, baby,” he breathes, dragging his thumb through your slick, bringing it to his mouth just for one last taste. “you really are the sweetest treat.”

you whimper at his words, body still shaking, but he’s already standing, already pressing against you again.

his hands slide up your waist, fingers curling into your hair, tugging your head back just enough for him to whisper against your skin.

“think you can handle more?”

his cock presses against your thigh, heavy and hard, and you realize he’s not even close to being done with you.

his lips brush your jaw, as he nudges your legs wider, pressing the thick head of his cock against your entrance.

❦ CHOSO KAMO

choso wasn’t sure what possessed him to do this. he’d spent weeks overthinking every detail, from what to cook to what music to play in the background. he wasn’t good at things like this—planning dates, making moves, figuring out if someone actually liked him the way he liked them. but when valentine’s day came around, he swallowed his nerves and asked if you’d come over for dinner.

and now you’re standing in his doorway, smiling at him like he’s not completely losing his mind.

“happy valentine’s,” he says, awkwardly holding out the flowers he bought earlier that day. they’re slightly crumpled from how tightly he’s been gripping them, but the colors are nice, and he hopes you won’t notice.

you take them gently, fingers brushing his as you bring them up to your nose. “you got me flowers?”

“uh, yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “thought you might like them.”

“i love them,” you say, and his heart does something weird in his chest.

he steps aside so you can come in, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie to keep them from fidgeting. the apartment smells warm, something rich and savory simmering on the stove. it’s cozy, a little cluttered, but in a way that feels lived in.

“you really went all out,” you tease, setting the flowers down on the counter, eyes sweeping over the neatly set table. “candles, music, a home-cooked meal? you trying to impress me, choso?”

he swallows hard, avoiding your gaze. “maybe.”

dinner is nice, easier than he expected. he listens more than he talks, letting you carry the conversation, letting himself soak in the sound of your voice. you’re so comfortable, so at ease, while he’s been tense all night, too aware of how much he wants this to go well.

at some point, you must notice, because you set your fork down and tilt your head at him. “you’re really nervous, huh?”

he lets out a breath, staring down at his plate. “yeah. i—” he hesitates, then sighs. “you just seem so... calm. like this is nothing for you.”

you blink at him, then shake your head with a small laugh. “choso, i’m just as nervous as you are.”

his head lifts, brows furrowing like he doesn’t quite believe it. “you don’t look it.”

“i hide it better than you do,” you admit, reaching across the table to touch his hand. “but trust me, i’ve been overthinking this just as much as you.”

his fingers twitch beneath yours, his whole body going still as he processes what you just said. then his shoulders drop a little, the tension easing just enough for him to exhale.

somehow, after dinner, you both end up on the couch, sitting close, legs barely brushing. you’re talking about something, but choso’s focus keeps slipping, keeps drifting to the way you’re sitting so comfortably in his space, like you belong there.

and then you’re looking at him, your voice softer now. “can i kiss you?”

his breath catches, fingers tightening where they rest on his lap. “yeah.”

you lean in, and he barely has time to process it before your lips press against his. it’s soft at first, slow, like you’re giving him a chance to pull away if he wants to. but he doesn’t. his hand comes up, fingers slipping into your hair as he kisses you back, tentative but growing bolder the longer he gets lost in the feeling.

somewhere along the way, you move into his lap, straddling him, your weight pressing down against him in a way that makes his head spin. his hands settle on your hips, gripping tightly, like he’s afraid to move too much and break whatever spell this is.

then you roll your hips, slow, teasing, and choso chokes on a gasp, hands flying to your waist to hold you still.

“fuck,” he breathes, forehead dropping against your shoulder. “you—fuck.”

you do it again, and his fingers dig into your skin, his breath coming faster, harder.

“this okay?” you whisper, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

he nods, swallowing hard. “yeah. yeah, just—” he exhales sharply when you grind down again. “god, that feels good.”

his hands slide up, dragging along your sides, gripping at you like he’s still trying to process that this is happening. his hips move on instinct, pushing up to meet yours, the friction making him shudder.

he’s so warm beneath you, so solid, so desperate, making the tiniest, neediest sounds every time you move against him. his head falls back against the couch, eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched.

“you’re shaking,” you murmur, fingers threading through his hair.

he lets out a breathless laugh. “you’re really gonna act like you’re not?”

you smile, kissing him again, deeper this time, slower. his hands slide under your shirt, warm palms pressing against bare skin, not pushing, just holding, just wanting to feel.

his hips stutter beneath you, his grip tightening as he exhales sharply. “gonna—fuck, gonna cum if you keep—”

you press down harder, grinding in slow, lazy circles, and he moans, low and broken, his whole body trembling beneath you. his fingers grip tight, his breath stuttering as he falls apart, hips jerking up against you, voice catching in his throat.

you kiss him through it, soft and slow, dragging your fingers down his back as he shudders beneath you. he’s panting when he finally collapses against the couch, flushed and dazed, eyes fluttering open just enough to look at you.

you lean in, lips brushing his ear as you whisper, “best valentine’s day ever.”

he groans softly, chest still rising and falling against yours. “yeah.”

then, before you can process it, he’s flipping you onto your back, pressing you into the cushions, settling between your legs.

“what are you—”

“returning the favor,” he murmurs, lips brushing along your jaw, down your throat, his hands sliding beneath your thighs.

his breath is warm against your skin, his voice barely more than a whisper. “let me taste you.”

his hands tighten on your waist as he sinks lower, lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your stomach, parting your legs, settling between them like he belongs there.

when his lips finally close around your clit, when his tongue presses against you, slow and wet and filthy, he groans like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever had.

and when you moan his name, fingers twisting in his hair, hips rolling up to meet his mouth, he's determined to make this valentine’s day one you’ll never forget.

❦ SUGURU GETO

you don’t expect him to show up at your door.

it’s late, the night air cool against your skin when you open it to find suguru standing there, leaning against the frame like he belongs there, like he’s been here a hundred times before.

his black hair is tied up, a few loose strands falling over his forehead, and his hands are stuffed into the pockets of his coat. he looks effortless, like always, like this is just another night for him, like he didn’t just show up on your doorstep without calling first.

"you busy?" he asks, voice smooth, lazy, like he already knows the answer.

"if i was?" you challenge, tilting your head.

he hums, stepping closer, the smallest smirk tugging at his lips. "then i'd say i’ll wait."

you roll your eyes but step back to let him in, because this is suguru, because you’re used to him showing up unannounced, because part of you had been waiting for this, hoping for it, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

he shrugs out of his coat, draping it over the back of your couch before stretching, muscles shifting beneath his sweater, his movements so slow, so casual, like he has all the time in the world.

"so?" you prompt, watching as he surveys your apartment like he hasn’t been here a hundred times before.

he turns to you, dark eyes flicking over your face, taking in the way you cross your arms over your chest, trying to act like his presence doesn’t make your stomach tighten.

"figured i should at least stop by," he says. "it is valentine’s day, after all."

you snort. "since when do you care about that?"

"i don’t," he says, stepping closer, slow and deliberate, until he’s standing in front of you, close enough that you have to tip your head back slightly to meet his gaze. "but you do."

your heart stutters in your chest, your pulse quickening, because this is different. suguru has always been laid back, has always flirted with you in a way that was easy to brush off as friendly. but right now, he’s looking at you like he’s waiting for something, like he’s testing you, like he’s finally giving you the chance to close the distance.

you swallow, feeling your fingers twitch at your sides. “and what exactly are you offering?”

his lips twitch, his eyes dark with something you can’t quite place. "whatever you'll let me."

there’s a pause, heavy, stretching between you, neither of you moving, neither of you looking away.

and then, finally, you reach for him, your fingers curling into the front of his sweater as you pull him in.

he follows easily, his body pressing against yours, his breath warm against your lips. he lets you set the pace, lets you tug him down, lets you kiss him first.

but the second your lips press against his, he takes over.

his hands slide up your sides, fingers curling around your waist, pulling you in, pressing you against him like he’s been waiting for this. he kisses you slow, deep, lazy in a way that makes your head spin, like he has nowhere else to be, like he has all night to take his time with you.

you sigh against him, your hands moving up to tangle in his hair, tugging at the tie keeping it in place.

he groans softly when you pull it free, his hair falling around his shoulders, and you swear you feel him smile against your lips.

"finally," he murmurs, his voice lower now, rougher.

"shut up," you breathe, pulling him back in, kissing him deeper, harder, pressing your body against his.

he lets you, lets you set the pace for a moment, lets you take what you want. but then his hands slide lower, gripping the backs of your thighs, lifting you effortlessly, walking you back until your back hits the couch.

you gasp as he lowers you onto it, pressing himself between your legs, his weight warm, solid, grounding.

his lips trail down your throat, his teeth grazing over sensitive skin, his breath warm against your collarbone.

"suguru," you whisper, fingers digging into his shoulders, pulling him closer.

he groans, hands tightening on your hips, his body rolling against yours, slow, teasing, letting you feel him.

you whimper, arching into him, rocking your hips up to meet his, the friction sending a shiver down your spine.

his breath stutters, his grip tightening, his body pressing down against you, like he’s trying to hold himself back.

"been thinking about this for a while," he admits, his voice rough against your skin.

you smile, tilting your head to capture his lips again, rolling your hips against him, feeling the way his breath catches.

"then stop thinking," you murmur.

he groans, his hands sliding beneath your shirt, fingers splaying across your bare skin, his lips dragging over your throat, your jaw, back to your mouth.

he kisses you like he’s memorizing the feeling, like he wants to make up for all the time he wasted pretending he didn’t want this.

his hips move in slow, deliberate rolls, pressing against you, making your breath hitch, making heat coil low in your stomach.

you can feel how hard he is, can feel how much he’s holding back, his fingers gripping your waist like he’s trying to keep himself steady.

"suguru," you whisper, dragging your nails down his back.

he exhales sharply, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath warm, unsteady.

"tell me you want this," he says, his voice low, strained.

you smile against his lips, pressing your hips up against his again, feeling the way he shudders.

"i do."

his resolve snaps.

his hands grip your thighs, his lips crashing into yours, his body pressing you deeper into the couch, grinding against you in slow, deep rolls, his breath ragged, his hands trembling.

"fuck," he groans, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, his hips moving harder, faster, almost desperate now.

you moan, clinging to him, arching up to meet every movement, the friction building, overwhelming.

"sugu—"

"i want this every day," he breathes, his voice breaking, his body tensing as he loses himself in you. "i want you every day."

his hips stutter, his fingers dig into the skin of your hips as he moans against your throat, coming undone with you, his body shaking with it.

you hold him through it, dragging your hands up his back, whispering his name, pressing soft kisses against his jaw as he shudders in your arms.

when he finally catches his breath, he leans up just enough to look at you, his eyes hazy and dark, but softer than you’ve ever seen them.

he smiles, breathless, pressing his lips to your forehead. "yeah," he murmurs. "definitely want this every day."

❦ SUKUNA RYOMEN

you don’t expect anything from sukuna.

it’s not that you think he’s forgotten—he doesn’t forget things, least of all when people expect something from him. it’s that he doesn’t care.

valentine’s day is meaningless to him, just some cheap human tradition, an excuse for people to drape themselves in red and pink and beg for attention. and he’s never been the type to do something just because everyone else is doing it.

so you don’t ask, don’t even bring it up. you go about your day as usual, pretending it doesn’t sting just a little that he doesn’t even acknowledge it.

but when you walk into the room, something shifts.

he’s lounging on the couch, legs spread wide, arm slung over the backrest, posture completely at ease. the flickering light from the television casts sharp shadows along his face, accentuating the angles of his jaw, the high cut of his cheekbones. the pink strands of his hair catch the glow, almost soft if not for the way his deep red eyes flick over to you.

at first, he doesn’t react. doesn’t say anything. just stares, unblinking, scanning you from head to toe.

then, finally, his head tilts, his mouth curling into something that isn’t quite a smirk but isn’t neutral either.

"what the hell are you wearing?"

you blink, brows lifting. "a dress?"

he leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, studying you with unreadable intent.

"for me?"

"not everything is about you, sukuna," you retort, crossing your arms over your chest.

he scoffs, but his gaze never leaves you, dragging over the shape of your legs, the dip of your waist, the way the fabric clings to you in all the right places.

"you sure about that?" his voice dips lower, not quite rough, but there’s something deliberate in the way he speaks, a certain weight behind his words. "because you’re standing there, looking like that, and now i’ve got a problem."

you roll your eyes, turning toward the kitchen. "if you’re just gonna be annoying, i’ll go find someone else to spend valentine’s with."

you barely make it two steps before his hand catches your wrist, yanking you back with zero effort, making you stumble right into his chest.

"you think anyone else could handle you?" he murmurs, voice lower now, a little rougher, edged with something smug.

his other hand moves, trailing up your thigh, just enough to make you exhale a little too sharply.

you sigh, feigning boredom, your lips twitching. "big words from someone who looks like a walking valentine’s day decoration."

his brows lift, amused. "what?"

you smirk, tilting your head, your fingers lifting to brush over the pink strands of his hair. "pink hair, red eyes? loverboy, you are valentine’s day personified."

"yeah?" he muses, voice low, slow, eyes dragging over you like he’s figuring out exactly how he wants to ruin you. his hands trail up your waist, fingers pressing just enough to make your breath hitch.

"then get on my lap," he murmurs, smirking as his hands slide lower. "if you're gonna dress like a present, i might as well unwrap you."

before you can protest, he’s already pulling you down, making you straddle his thighs.

you huff, shifting in his grip, feeling the heat of his body beneath you. "if you don’t care about today, then what the hell is this?"

his smirk never fades, his fingers dragging up your back, his voice a low drawl.

"who said i cared?" he murmurs, lips brushing over the shell of your ear. "maybe i just wanna remind you who you fucking belong to."

his hands move over your waist, his touch heavier now, his palms pressing firmly as he grinds up against you, letting you feel how hard he already is beneath you.

he groans softly, head tilting back just slightly, his fingers pressing into your hips as he rolls his hips up to meet yours.

"fuck," he exhales, voice lower now, thick with something that makes your stomach coil tight. "go on, then. take what you want."

his hands drop lower, gripping the curve of your ass, urging you to move against him, to drag this out, to tease him.

"shit," you breathe, nails sinking into his shoulders, feeling every inch of him beneath you.

he chuckles, his chest rising and falling steadily, his eyes gleaming with something smug.

"what?" his voice is laced with amusement, his lips barely twitching into a grin. "can’t even handle it?"

you glare at him, breath unsteady. "if you’d just let me—"

his fingers flex, his hips snap up, cutting you off as a groan rumbles in his throat.

"quit whining and ride me properly," he growls.

you inhale sharply, lifting yourself slightly before sinking back down, rolling your hips in slow, deep motions that you know will shut him up.

his hands fly back to your waist, grip tightening, breath growing uneven as his head tips back against the couch, his jaw clenching.

"fuck—" his voice catches, his body stiffening slightly beneath you.

his usual smirk is gone now, replaced by something hazier, his brows furrowing as his body tenses.

"god, you—" his fingers tremble against your waist, his rhythm faltering as you keep pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

his control crumbles, his breathing turning shallow, his chest rising and falling in uneven waves as his forehead drops against your shoulder.

"shit—fuck, slow down," he mutters, but he makes no real effort to stop you.

his hands grasp at your skin, his movements growing sloppier, needier, a soft, broken sound slipping past his lips when you roll your hips just right.

"you said to ride you," you murmur against his ear, dragging your fingers up the back of his neck, feeling the way his breath hitches.

he groans, deep and almost desperate, his hips jerking up instinctively, chasing the feeling.

"fuck," he breathes, voice barely above a whisper, his body trembling beneath you, struggling to keep up.

you lean in, lips brushing his jaw. "then let go."

his entire body shudders, his grip on you bruising as his hips stutter beneath you, a wrecked sound breaking free from his throat as he comes apart, gasping into your neck.

his fingers twitch against your waist, his muscles tensing before finally going lax, his breath warm against your skin, his chest still heaving.

for a long moment, he just stays there, dazed, his head tilted back against the couch, eyes fluttering open just enough to meet yours.

his smirk is weak, unfocused, but still there.

"you're still gonna fucking pay for that," he mutters, voice ragged.

you grin, dragging your fingers down his chest. "happy valentine’s, loverboy."

he groans, hands still on you, already shifting beneath you, already ready to flip you over.

"shut up," he breathes, lips curving into something sharper. "you’re not done yet."

❦ TOJI FUSHIGURO

toji doesn’t believe in holidays.

at least, not ones that require effort. gifts, fancy dinners, long romantic speeches—all a waste of time, in his opinion. but that doesn’t stop you from raising a brow when you walk into the apartment and find him exactly where you expect, sprawled out on the couch, legs spread, looking like he hasn’t moved in hours.

"you’re pathetic," you say, dropping your bag onto the table.

he grunts, barely glancing at you, one arm propped behind his head. "and you’re late."

"late for what?" you scoff, kicking off your shoes. "don’t tell me you actually planned something."

he snorts, finally looking at you, eyes trailing down your legs, up your body before landing on your face.

"yeah," he mutters, stretching, shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of muscle, the deep v-line dipping into his sweats. "planned to be balls-deep by now, but here you are, runnin’ your mouth instead."

you roll your eyes, turning toward the kitchen until something on the counter catches your attention.

a small, neatly packed box of chocolate-covered strawberries sits there, next to a crumpled receipt. no ribbons, no gift bag—just the box, like he cared enough to pick them out but didn’t see the point in dressing it up.

your lips twitch. "so you did get me something."

toji groans, dragging a hand down his face before sitting up. "tch. they were sittin’ by the register. thought, ‘hey, maybe this’ll shut her up.’"

you pick one up, rolling it between your fingers before bringing it to your lips, taking a slow bite. the chocolate melts over your tongue, the juice spilling slightly at the corners of your mouth.

you hum, swallowing before flashing him a smirk. "you want one?"

toji watches you for a moment, his green eyes dark, tracking the way your tongue flicks out to catch the mess before it drips down your chin.

"nah," he mutters, pushing off the couch and closing the distance between you in a few lazy strides.

before you can react, his fingers wrap around your wrist, plucking the strawberry from your grip, pressing the juicy tip against your lips.

"bite," he murmurs.

your breath hitches, but you do, sinking your teeth into the fruit at the same time as he does. your mouths are barely an inch apart when sweet juice spills from the corners of your lips, dripping down your chin.

toji grins against the mess, teeth flashing, eyes gleaming before he licks the trail from the edge of your mouth, slow and deliberate.

"fuckin’ sweet," he mutters. he swipes his tongue along your bottom lip, sucking it between his teeth just enough to make your knees feel weak.

before you can say anything, his hand grips your waist, his other swiping the box of chocolates off the counter.

"toji—?"

he doesn’t answer. instead, he tucks the box under his arm and bends low, gripping the backs of your thighs before lifting you up effortlessly.

"toji, put me down—"

"well no," he says, smirking as he adjusts his hold, carrying you and the chocolates back toward the bedroom like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

you barely have time to process it before you feel the cool air of your shared room against your skin, and then he’s dropping you onto the bed.

before you can even sit up, he’s already pulling at your clothes.

"off," he mutters, voice rough, hands yanking your top over your head, pushing your bottoms down so fast it leaves you breathless.

your pulse jumps as he strips you bare in seconds, moving too fast for you to keep up, his own shirt already on the floor before you realize he even pulled it off.

his sweats hit the floor next, leaving him just as bare, the heat of his body pressing against yours again before you can even get a word out.

he smirks at you, running his palm over your thigh, like he knows you’re still catching up.

"dizzy?" he teases, voice dipping lower.

you glare at him, chest rising and falling, fingers curling into the sheets. "you—"

he doesn’t let you finish. his hand slides up, gripping your jaw, kissing you deep, messy, full of heat.

"shh," he murmurs against your lips, pressing you further into the mattress, his other hand reaching for the box of chocolates.

he plucks out another strawberry, dragging it over your chest, your stomach, watching as melted chocolate smears across your skin.

he keeps the strawberry on your mound, eyes flicking up to meet yours, watching the way your breath shudders when you realize what he’s about to do.

his mouth follows the trail, tongue dragging along the warm, sticky path, making sure to clean up every last drop.

and when he finally reaches the strawberry, he bites into it right where it rests, juices spilling, mixing with your own, and his mouth is on you in an instant, licking it all away.

you gasp, back arching, thighs twitching as his tongue moves slow, deep, thorough.

"fuck," he mutters against you, voice rough. "tastes better than chocolate."

his thick fingers slip inside you easily, curling deep. his tongue swirls against your clit, his pace ruthless, not giving you a second to process.

a mix of his mouth and fingers builds you up too fast, your body tightening, already spiraling toward the edge before you can stop it.

"toji—fuck—"

"mhm," he hums, sending vibrations straight through you, his fingers pressing deep, hitting the perfect spot over and over.

the orgasm rips through you before you even realize, sudden, overwhelming, your body trembling as he keeps licking, keeps working you through it until you’re pushing at his head, gasping for air.

he finally pulls away, swiping the back of his hand over his mouth.

but something’s different.

he looks down at you. his expression unreadable and jaw set tight.

"what’s wrong?" you ask, still breathless, voice hazy.

toji exhales through his nose, fingers tapping idly against your thigh. his jaw flexes, like he’s debating saying something but hesitating.

"forget it," he mutters, shaking his head.

"no," you say immediately, grabbing his wrist. "tell me."

he doesn’t look at you right away. his lips press together, like he’s chewing on the words, debating if he should even say them.

finally, he exhales. "i just—" he stops, brows furrowing. "sometimes i feel like… i don’t do enough. for you."

your chest aches at the way he says it, like he’s expecting you to agree. like part of him is waiting for you to confirm that he’s not enough.

"what, you think i need some grand romantic gesture?" you tease, running a hand through his messy hair. "toji, if i wanted candlelit dinners and corny love letters, i would’ve picked someone else."

you pull him down, kissing him slow, deep, like you need him to understand.

"you do more than enough," you murmur against his lips. "i have you. that's all i need."

he stares at you for a second, like he’s trying to believe it.

then he smirks, some of the tension melting from his shoulders.

"good," he breathes, fingers tightening on your waist. "’cause i already booked us a flight for tomorrow."

you freeze, eyes blinking up at him. "you—what?"

he chuckles, brushing his thumb over your mouth before sinking lower, pressing a kiss beneath your jaw.

"figured you deserved a vacation’," he murmurs against your neck. "so we’re gettin’ the hell outta here for a few days."

your breath catches, excitement flickering through you, replacing the heat already settling in your stomach.

"where?"

he nips at your collarbone, dragging his tongue over the mark he leaves behind.

"you’ll find out when we get there."

you gasp, half-annoyed, half-turned on. "you’re such a bastard."

he grins, pressing another chocolate-stained kiss to your chest.

"yeah?" his breath fans against your skin, his voice dipping lower. "say that again when i’m making you cum for the third time tonight."

an. HAPPY LATE V-DAY LOVERS <3!

[tonycries]

Welcome To The Itadori's! - C.K.

Synopsis. Three times Choso really, really wanted to hold you without his family barging in, and the one time he actually does. 

Pairing. Best friend! Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, childhood best friends to lovers, slowburn, cameos from the Itadori’s (Yuji, Jin, grandpa, SUKUNA), smút only when they’re adults, first times, oral (female receiving), cúnnilingus, marking, rough, Choso’s a bit mean in bed, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.0k

A/N. The unc-kuna brainrot got me here, Yuji’s family tree is HILARIOUS.

“You’ve never what?”  

“I mean, yeah? So what if I’ve never…uh-” eyes darting to the erotic scene on-screen. “M’surely not missing out on that much.”

Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn’t. Whatever the answer was, Choso could only pray that no one walked into your apartment right now.

---

Choso swears his family is well and fully intent on ruining every waking moment with you. 

He’s convinced even, at this point. Because in the 13 long years of being inseparable from you - ever since you were both whiney, snot-faced brats - Choso’s racked up more interruptions than he’s seen on those k-dramas that his grandfather swears he doesn’t watch.

It was like some cosmic joke, really. All he wanted was a moment with just the two of you…and maybe a second or two to confess his undying love. But that didn’t seem too realistic when the Itadori’s were a bit of a packaged deal, unfortunately.  

Alas, Choso’s resigned himself to accept the fact that maybe - just maybe - this was the universe’s way of telling him that his pretty best friend was indeed too good for him. Something he’s suspected ever since the both of you were eight.

The realization had hit him like a semi-truck back then - five of them, in fact. And a whole zoo of animals afterward.

Of course, it’s not like that was any secret. He always thought you were perfect from the second you’d moved in - that new family next door he’d been eagerly waiting ages to arrive. And Choso, being the dutiful oldest son, was the one to deliver welcome cookies to your doorstep. Stumbling, and carefully trying to reach for the doorbell without dropping any. 

“Um, welcome to-”

“Your hair’s funny.”

Now, Choso’s never greeted neighbors before, but it surely wasn’t supposed to go like this. Why was he being insulted by some little girl - you were missing a few teeth, and his had just grown back in so obviously he was much older and wiser. All unapologetic smiles and twinkling eyes as you blink up curiously at his space buns. Pretty, even when you were tearing his heart out because hey, he thought this hairstyle was cool, okay?

Which is what had him huffing and puffing back home, running straight into the arms of his dad while he tried not to cry. That is, until you came knocking at his door with your parents. Very much bawling and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug with wet mumbles of “M’sorry, meant your hair’s very cool. Wanna match-”

And, if his cheeks burned just a bit, well, Choso blamed the tears. 

After a disaster like that, of course you’d grow to be best friends within the day. 

But what that didn’t explain was when - after hours of bickering over whether to play tag or house - you were all tuckered out and sat beside him in a corner of his room, too exhausted to talk his ear off. Head lolling once. Twice. Falling softly onto his shoulder.

Oh. 

Now, Choso might just be having the first epiphany of his entire, grueling eight years in this world - that you were very, very pretty fast asleep with your head on his shoulder. 

Why? Why were you here barging into his life and turning it upside down? Calling him your “new best friend” and dragging him along wherever you went. It made his poor head absolutely spin, not daring to move a muscle so that you didn’t wake up and see this tiny predicament.

He didn’t know why. But what he did know was that he found himself subconsciously reaching for your hand, a strange little part of himself wanting to see how much smaller they were than his. They looked so soft and warm and-

“I WANNA PLAY T- Oh.”

Oh indeed. He hastily lurches away from you like it burned, hands raised like he was caught red-handed. Feeling slightly sorry when he sees you blinking away the sleep to take in your surroundings, eyes bouncing off of a very excited Yuji and resting on the clock.

“Oh no. Mommy’s gonna be mad.” you gasp, hastily getting up. And he feels a weird pang as you quickly dust down your dress, running out the door with a laughed out, “Bye, Yuji! See ya later, Cho~!”

“Bye, crybaby.”

And then it’s quiet. Only Choso still staring after you, and Yuji staring at his older brother, somewhat awestruck and wondering only one thing-

“Big bro, why are you so red?”

Choso doesn’t think he’s gotten a moment alone with you since that first initial meeting. 

Fourteen was definitely the worst, in his opinion.

“Hey, Cho, y’know the girl sitting next to me in math said she had her first kiss today.”

“Oh.” It’s all Choso can manage to get out, paying more attention than he should to the gravel beneath him as he tries not to trip over air beside you. Hot under his uniform collar at the sudden shift in conversation from the usual after-school banter. 

Looping your arm with his, you heave out a playful sigh, “I wonder what that feels like. Have you ever thought about it?” 

No, but Choso has never thought that he’d be here - face burning at your body pressed up against his. Just knowing that his ancestors above are laughing at what a loser he is, barely able to stammer out an answer to your question. 

Okay, maybe he was being dramatic. Because it wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about kissing before - it’s just that whenever it popped into his mind, you were usually accompanying him. Along with those strange thoughts of whether your lips are as soft as they looked? Or would your heartbeat be as fast as-

“Man, are you even listening?” 

Shit. 

Your hand waving in front of Choso’s face brings him back to reality. Blinking hastily, he tries to gather his thoughts, mumbling out a quick, “Uh, yeah, sorry. Just lost in thought.” averting his gaze as he feels the heat rise to his cheeks at your intense gaze.

Your smile only widens, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you nudge his side. “Thinking so hard about kissing, huh? Cho, you lecher!” 

“Am not.”

“Am to.”

“Am not.”

“Am to.”

“Who were you imagining it with, huh? Gonna give ‘em a big smooch tomorrow?”

God, you were going to be the death of him. “N-no! I haven’t even- shut up, crybaby, it’s not like-” he sputters out useless protests over your laughter - his favorite song, even when you were teasing the hell out of him. But ah how you relish in his embarrassment, tittering out little giggles all the way until you’re steering him onto your lane. 

Choso, on the other hand, keeps wishing the ground would swallow him up more and more with each step towards his porch. He’d have broken into a sprint right then if he hadn’t known you and the way you’d race him there instead.

“Alright.” you declare once you’re stood at his front door, jolting Choso out of his reverie. And he’s barely opening his mouth to register your words before you plowing on confidently. “We’ll just have to practice our first kisses with each other.”

Perfect. Great. Wonderful. 

The final nail on his coffin. You might as well have planted a bombshell right in the middle of his already-chaotic world with the way he was reeling in- shock? Fear? Anticipation?

“Practice.” Choso whispers, more to himself than you. Yet you nod anyway, eyes locked with his like you were studying his reaction. “For…practice.”

Doubt starts to creep into your pretty features, “Well, we don’t have to if you do-”

“No no no no, I want- ahem.” he cringes at the pathetic desperation in his voice. Desperately trying to scramble back some semblance of sanity as he clears his throat, “I want to. Just-” Choso urgently looks around for- ah, there it is. 

Dragging over the brick from the side of his porch because goddammit he might be 14 but he sure hadn’t hit that growth spurt yet. “Practice, right?”

You nod with a fiery determination that, later on, would make Choso chuckle with fondness. Muttering out a firm, “Practice.” Letting the boy in front of you nervously leans closer, breath fanning your face. And shit if you were nervous then you didn’t show it, but Choso felt like he was about to spontaneously combust. 

Brows furrowing in concentration, eyes only squinting ever-so-slightly as he takes peaks at how pretty you looked. Close enough that he could count every lash as your pretty eyes closed shut, lips glistening with that strawberry chapstick you loved, puckering adorably. Only inching closer and-

Click! 

“You two are so cute! But um- dear, how do you mute this thing?”

You spring apart so fast that Choso wouldn’t be surprised if you’d teleported. He doesn’t even know what’s happening before, from the safety of about three meters away from him, you’re muttering out an embarrassed little, “Hi there, Mr. Itadori. The gardenia are coming along nicely.”

His dad smiles like he hadn’t just starred in what was likely Choso’s villain origin story. Waving happily, “Aww, thank you, sweetheart. Now, why don’t you two go back to doing your lil’ thing and I can ah- practice my photography.”

“Dad, I’m running away.”

That practice kiss never happens. And, well, if there was a proudly framed photo down the hallway of the two of you - with Choso absolutely bright red and standing comically on a brick to meet your height, faces nervously scrunching towards each other - well, neither of you ever mention it. Jin Itadori does, though - every time you come over, in fact. 

It’s only when you’re both eighteen, when Choso’s a lot deeper in his feelings - and only slightly less embarrassed about it - that he thinks that maybe not all family interruptions were that bad. 

Graduation was…something. Not exactly something that he’s sure if he’ll ever want to relive with the sheer amount of awkward photos and tears that his dad lets out. God if he has to shuffle into another-

“You alright, Cho?”

Ah. 

Traitorously, a smile makes its way onto his face, peering down at your beaming face. Both of you having made it way past the awkward early teens. Well, at least you certainly have - Choso still feels like the same awkward little boy with an even more awkward crush. “Hm? Yeah, m’great.” 

“Are ya sure? Because you look like you’re about to have an aneurysm any second now.” you raise a brow teasingly. Ah, how gorgeous you were - even when you’re picking him apart. 

“Yeah. Great. Only had this smile plastered on for the last five hours.”

“Aww, but you look so pretty smiling.” you shrug, with the audacity of someone that didn’t just have Choso’s knees dangerously weak. “Anyway- A bunch of us are gonna try to convince ol’ Yaga to let us take photos with his shades, you wanna come?”

“You think m’pretty?” he muses, embarrassingly late.

“Cho.”

“Yaga. Shades. Got it.” Choso mock salutes, drinking in the little laugh it startles out of you, eyes sparkling with mischief and looking right into his soul. Beautiful. You were always beautiful. 

And Choso can’t just stand around and do nothing about it.

“Crybaby, look, I-” Fists clenching, he takes a steadying breath. The heat only rising to his cheeks at your awaiting gaze, “I…”

“HEY, GRANDPA HELPED STEAL YAGA’S SHADES LET’S TAKE A PIC-”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP ITADORI. YOU’RE RUINING A MOMENT, LET THEM HAVE THEIR MOMENT.”

“I don’t know either of you two.”

It would be a miracle for a moment not to be ruined with two overly-energetic first-years (and a very reluctant Fushiguro) pushing their way into your little bubble. Choso bites back a groan as you’re immediately swarmed by a bickering Kugisaki and Yuji, one apologizing for “ruining your k-drama moment” and the other trying to get you to put on some sunglasses. Well, at least he could empathize with the black-haired boy, who gave him an apologetic nod. 

He’s only halfway through waving off the interruption before a voice speaks up from his side. “Why didn’t you say it?”

Whirling around, Choso comes face-to-face with the disappointed look on his grandfather’s face. Already having some idea of what you mean, “Wha-”

“I may be old but m’not deaf, yet, boy. Why didn’t ya tell her?” he sighs, tilting his head to where you were wearing those shades and taking ridiculous pictures with two animated first-years. 

“I don’t know what you-”

“M’not blind, either. Quite frankly I’m insulted.”

And, well, if there’s anyone that he can’t hide from - it would be his grandfather. So he heaves out a defeated sigh, touselling his hair while muttering out a pathetic little, “M’not- Ugh, she’s too fuckin’ perfect and I…I chickened out.”

Choso doesn’t know what he expected in response but it definitely wasn’t for his grandfather to laugh. Full, and raspy - loud enough that even you stop to stare. “Thought so, idiot boy.” he chuckles, drawing indignant protests. “Did she tell you?”

Raising a brow, “What?”

“Did she tell you that you weren’t good ‘nough for her?”

“No, but-” Whatever protest on the tip of Choso’s tongue is cut off by a rough hand smacking his back in what he thinks is reassurance, but felt more like a punishment for being such a pussy around you all these years. 

“Then go. Ya might just be surprised. After all, you’re my grandson, and all the ladies at bingo love me.”

Shaking with both adrenaline and the effort to keep that image out of his mind, he makes his way towards you. Purposeful. Pointedly ignoring the matching smirks flashed his way. 

“You really think they’ll finally get together today?” Fushiguro deadpans from where he’d snuck up beside the old man, in an attempt to escape the public nuisances he calls ‘friends’. 

Choso’s grandfather hums thoughtfully, watching the scene play out before him - Choso flushed such a delicate shade of pink as you playfully put Yaga’s sunglasses on him. Settling on a gruff, “I’ll give it a few months more. He’s my grandson, after all.”

“That’s generous. I’d give it a couple years more.”

“Wanna bet, brat?”

“...”

Safe to say, his second button ended up safely in your hands that day. But Fushiguro would be the one to really win the bet. 

Because it was only 2 years, 4 months and 3 weeks after this little incident that Choso finally had you exactly where he wanted - with no interruptions. All for him. 

Freshly twenty one, splayed out on your apartment bedroom and having a conversation that he never in a million years would’ve even dared to imagine he’d have - with you of all people. All because of that stupid R-rated film you’d put on for movie night. 

“You’ve never what?” you gape, turning down the volume to those painfully fake moans coming from the tv.

Oh, how gorgeous you looked - all shocked and batting your lashes up at him in surprise. Choso almost swoons inwardly (and outwardly) before he realizes that shit you were probably waiting for an answer.

“I mean, yeah?” he sputters out, cheeks heating up as you lean in closer to hear him. Close. “So what if I’ve never…uh-” eyes darting to the erotic scene on-screen. “M’surely not missing out on that much.”

Goddammit, some strange, carnal part of himself twinges dangerously at the little smirk that curls your lips. One that he quickly - and embarrassingly - realizes has the blood rushing straight to his cock. Humming a low, “Maybe. Maybe not.” The mattress dips slightly as you shift closer, lips ghosting his ear. “Want me to help you find out?”

Which is, well, how Choso found himself shoved against the armrest. Blanket thrown on the floor now, swollen cock leaking furiously through his pants as your pretty lil’ cunt hovers above his mouth. So wet that if he stuck his tongue out he could have you dripping all onto him. 

“Y-you sure about this, sweetheart?” he hisses despite his hands looping around your thighs, bringing you closer to him.

You raise a brow, “Are you sure, Cho?”

He should say no. He should laugh this all off as a bad joke. He shouldn’t ruin this friendship - but oh how badly he wants just a taste of your dripping pussy - see if she’s as sweet as the rest of you is. So, throwing caution to the wind, Choso nods slowly. “Yes. Want it s’bad.”

Grinning wickedly, you whisper, “Thought so.” And then he’s pulling you onto his mouth, hot and urgent.

“Oh fuck-” he groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the first taste of your sweet sweet juices. “Shit shit shit.” So sloppily licking up your swollen folds - barely moving with any method or patience, just that he’s drunk on your pussy and wants more more more-

“Hngh- f-fuck. You sure this is your hah- first time, Cho?” you gasp breathlessly. And oh your best friend was so fucking beautiful. Dark hair untied and tousled, eyes half-hooded, your slick already smearing across the bottom half of his face and trickling down his jaw because shit he was so messy. So addicted to that desperate expression on your face that he just can’t help but tease you a little bit. 

“Mhm?” he smirks, tongue swirling around your pulsing clit. Purposefully missing right where you wanted him the most because shit he loved those cute lil’ whines spilling out of you. 

You let out a huff, hips trying pathetically to inch him closer - but Choso wasn’t budging. Holding you so firmly by the hips that you’re sure he leaves bruises, licking all over your cunt except for your clit. “Cho.” you warn. Brows furrowing in frustration at the way he bats his long lashes up at you so deceivingly innocently, “What?”

“You know…”

“I don’t.” he titters teasingly into your pussy. 

“Choso.”

Now, Choso’s known and seen everything there is to do with you - but never like this. Spread open shamefully and pouting so adorably on top of him, so needy for him. It made his head spin to think of just how much the dynamics had shifted. 

Shit, he really should’ve watched that godforsaken movie with you sooner. “Tell me what you want, crybaby.”

And oh how his cock twitches at the way you manage to get out an embarrassed little, “Wan’ you to ngh- tonguefuck me properly. Wanna cum on your pretty face, Cho.”

And that’s all that’s said before he’s surging forward, glossy lips wrapping around your pulsing clit to suck harshly. Rolling his soft tongue over and over-

“Wanted this for so long.” Choso mutters, muffled as he buries himself deeper into your pretty pussy. The vibrations sending white-hot pleasure running down your spine. “You have absolutely no idea, pretty.”

And you barely even have the time to register his little confession before Choso’s moving down to bully his tongue past your folds. Nose pressing against your throbbing clit as he dips into your sloppy hole. 

“Oh shit. Jus’ like that.” For a beginner, your best friend really knew what he was doing. Eating you out like his favorite meal, tongue squeezing into your snug pussy to thrust in and out, swipe against your walls, stretching you out right to his will. Over and over-

“Use me.”

Your eyes snap down to meet the pure adoration in his eyes as he makes out filthily with your cunt. Choking out a little, “What?”

“Use me.”

There it was again - that strained little mantra. And as if to prove his point, Choso reaches out to deftly place your hands on his head, bucking into you touch. 

And, well, how could you say no to that?

Because before you know it, you’re bunching Choso’s soft strands in your fists. Angling him just right to ride his pretty face. “C’mon, Cho. Ngh- H-harder, jus’ a bit- Oh!” he just devours the way your mouth drops into an adorable little oh! as his tongue curls deftly against that one spot. Again and again. Letting himself be so used, dragging your dripping cunt harder on his mouth. 

And he likes it. Hell, he loves it even - because you’re so sweet n’ pretty on his mouth. Better than everything he’s ever been dreaming of for the past few years. And always in his dreams, you’d be clenching so deliciously around his tongue when you were close - just like right now. 

So he speeds up his movements, breathing you in maddeningly. A hand snaking down from it’s favorite place on your hips to draw quick, frenzied little circles on your poor, ravaged clit. Jaw almost aching with how filthily he was dripping in and out of your entrance - be he did give a shit. Only wanting to have you breathless and creaming all over his face.

You jerk violently on top of him, “Hah! S’too much, Cho. M’so close- gonna cum- gonna-”

And then you’re cumming. Fast, and hard. 

Plushy walls clamping down on Choso’s tongue, hips stuttering on his face as he laps up all your juices, an arm around your waist helping you ride his face through your high. 

“S’sweet. Could get used to that.” he slurs into your cunt. Tipping his head back as far as it’d go to let the last of your juices slide down his throat. “Better than I imagined.”

The words ring in your ears as you blink back your vision. Deliriously whirling down to look down at Choso - still beneath you and looking more smug and content than you’d ever seen him. “Imagination? S’that why you’re so good.”

“No.”

You’re being flipped before you know it. Manhandled so easily by your best friend as he lays you on your back, sinking into the cushion while he looms above you. “S’jus’ that…” grunting as he flings his shirt off, “Been dreaming of your pretty cunt on m’tongue for years.”

Okay, now his confession hits - more than it did when he was tonguefucking you into insanity, anyway. 

“Years, huh?” you breathe out, eyes roaming all over his sculpted torso. Taking in every dip and curve of Choso’s toned abs - all the way from his broad shoulders to the rock-hard cock straining against his pants. As if in a trance, your hand reaches out to cup his leaking erection, “S’that all you’ve been dreaming of?”

“You little minx.” he lets out a low hiss. 

Before you can even react, Choso’s fumbling with that belt - cursing because shit, he’d have worn sweatpants instead if he knew they’d end up on your floor. 

And you’re not any better, fingers popping open his buttons and tugging impatiently and oh- You always thought that your best friend would have a big dick - but this?  He was so intimidatingly long - and thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself. Fat tip flushed such a pretty shade of pink to match his cheeks, leaking down down down, all the way to his heavy balls. 

You’re only jolted out of your little reverie by Choso spitting a steady stream of spit onto your quivering cunt, spreading it lazily across your pussy with his thumb. A ringed fist pumping his cock slowly, as he drags his tip across your folds, pooling your sweet juices. Muttering out a raspy, “I’ll be gentle.”

“You better not be, now jus’ fuck me-”

Well, you didn’t have to ask Choso twice. Because you’ve barely gotten the words out before he’s bullying massive cock into your tight cunt. Pressing in inch by fucking inch as you gasp and buck underneath him. 

“Shhh, s’okay, crybaby. This is what you wanted, right?” he mumbles, with all the audacity of someone that wasn’t fucking into you in rapid, mindless little jabs to fit inside your snug lil’ pussy. Struggling to hold back at this point. “Wanted to be split apart on m’cock?”

You were so full of him. Even more so when he throws your legs over his shoulders, bending all the way down and folding you in half so easily beneath him. 

He drinks in the barely-lucid squeal that leaves your swollen lips. Kissing your forehead gently, whispering against the skin, “Because I’ve wanted this for so fucking long.”

And then it was like something snapped - maybe his sanity, maybe the restraint that Choso’s been holding back for too long. Because immediately he’s plunging his throbbing cock into you - all the way till his balls, all angry and squeezing so painfully, smacks against your ass. 

“Wanted this.” he rasps into your open mouth. His hips were out of control now, thrusting you in shallow, desperate rams. Pounding into you like a man possessed, and running his mouth just as much. He laces his fingers on top of your head, pushing you down even deeper into his relentless cock - as if the bastard wasn’t fucking you dumb already. “Fuckin’ needed this needed this. Shit- so bad.”

“Ch-Choso- fuck hah-” you plead as his mouth clashes with yours. All sloppy with teeth and spit and his profanities - and it felt so damn good. 

“Yeah? Who’s fucking you silly, now?” he’s going harder now, tip hitting your poor cervix over and over. And you’d be sobbing at the burn and the stretch but all you can think of is shit this is Choso - the kid you used to play hide and seek with. And now he seems fully intent on breaking you. “Say m’name.”

A rough thumb starts toying with your clit, in time with the cute lil’ whines of his name that escape your mouth like a prayer. “Shit. Y’look so pretty like this.” he babbles. “Gonna cry, pretty girl?” smirking down at the way you were too cockdrunk to even snap back, only looking up at him with delirious, teary eyes. “Be a crybaby for my cock?”

You’re tugging on his hair, thighs shaky and bucking upwards. “Cho-”

“Mhm?”

“W-wanna cum. Need you to fill m’up till I can’t take it anymore.”

Oh if Choso was any lesser man he’d have cum right then and there. Instead settling for a guttural groan, drunk off the way you were milking his cock so hard as if to prove your point. It almost made him want to stay like this forever. But no - not right now. 

“Oh yeah?” Hips becoming sloppy now, “Need it? Shit- m’so close.” Each word slurred, punctuated by a harsh thrust, strokes long and frenzied. Using your heavenly pussy like his personal fucktoy. So hard that he’s sure you’d have embarrassing matching bruises tomorrow - his balls on your ass, your nails raking down his shoulders.

“Me too- fuck fuck fuck-” you mewl into his neck, as Choso buried his face into yours. 

“Cum f’me, my girl.”

My girl. 

And then you are - and he is. And you don’t know who cums first, just that you’re seeing stars behind your eyes and Choso’s teeth digging into your neck as he thrusts once. Twice. Before cumming and cumming so hard he might as well have seen the pearly gates of heaven. And you were an angel.

Thick, hot ropes of cum that paint your walls white, so much that it gushes out of your poor overfilled pussy. Dripping down your legs and pooling into a sinful, creamy ring at his base. 

“Mm- shit. Choso.” you moan, barely audible over the lewd squelches from below. 

“M’here, my girl.” he grits out, voice shot. And it seems that that was his new favorite nickname, because Choso keeps murmuring it over and over as he keeps fucking his seed into you. Not even thinking about it at this point - just mindless, shallow grinds of his hips. 

In the haze of your orgasm, you think you hear his quiet voice, strained with exhaustion and something that you weren’t in the right state of mind to decipher right now. 

“Shhh, m’here. “Can’t believe I waited so fuckin’ long.” Whispering against your lips, “Love this. Love this pretty cunt.” Kissing softly, “Love the way y’take me. Fuckin’ made f’me.” And maybe even a soft little, “Love you.”

And maybe - just maybe, you whisper the same into his. Kissing him softly, exactly the way you’d wanted to all these years. 

Neither of you speak after that. Not when Choso’s hips stall, body sticky and collapsing onto yours. Nor do you speak when he pulls away with a playful nip to your lower lip - a promise. Searching through your clothes for a washcloth he can wipe yourselves clean with. 

It’s only when he settles back under the covers beside you, looking at you with such dark, hazy eyes - whirling with too many emotions to name - that the silence is broken. 

“Crybaby.”

“Cho.”

“Corny.”

“You started it.”

Chuckling, Choso pulls your body close to his. Not even a hair’s breadth between you two because shit now that he’s got you, he doesn’t think he ever wants to let you go. 

“Y’know…” he starts, “I think we should- I mean- if you want…” nervous now more than he was even after all that just transpired. Cheeks flaring as he meets your amused gaze, just daring him to go on - because you saw through him. You always did. “I lov-”

“Am I late for the mov- WHAT THE FUCK I ALWAYS KNEW BRATS WEREN’T JUST FRIENDS-”

---

Itadori Family Groupchat + Two More

Dad: Hey, all. I can’t seem to get a hold of Choso to confirm tomorrow’s dinner plans. Can anyone else let me know if he’s ok? XX

-Jin.

Yuji <3: He’s probs at rhat “best friend movie night” still 

Dad: Hello, Yuji. What is a “probs”? XX

-Jin.

Kugisaki: He’s suspiciously quiet, though… Y’all think that “best friend movie night” is codeword for something else? 

Yuji <3: Better not be cuz Sukuna stole my sparw key sayin something ab crashing it idk

Kugisaki: *spare

And you just LET him?

Yuji <3: HE THREATENED TO BURN MY MEGAN THEE STALLION POSTER 

…

AND DID IT ANYWAY

Kugisaki: L

Fushiguro: L

Gramps: L

Sukuna (do not answer): DID Y’ALL KNOW THOSE TWO WERE FUCKIN????

*Fushiguro has left the chat*

Dad: :0

-Jin.

A/N. Spiritually, this is a crackfic idk.

[cathnospam]

Content Warning: College MHA AU, Oral (F! Receiving), Bakugo being Bakugo, Reassurance, SoftDom!Bakugo

You cried during sex and it freaked Bakugo out…

“B-bab—-y/n?!” The soft concerned look on his face in contrast on what he was just doing between your thighs was almost enough to make you break into a chuckle.

Not knowing what personal space is he cupped your chubby tear stained cheeks with his warm sweaty palm and rubbed the wetness away the best he could, “Why didn’t you use the safe word?!”

You blink, you could feel your high slowly wearing off if it wasn’t for his knee rubbing up against your clit. He didn’t even realize he was so close. “Huh?”

“Did I hurt you? Why —why didn’t—“

The tears just flowed naturally from your face, this was your first time with him and this new feeling of passion left you overwhelmed, his kissed, his curious touches, the groans and pants coming from you both as you rolled around in the messed up sheets of his bed.

His mouth was just as curious and intense as his hands, and in Bakugo fashion he gave it his all, looking up over the valley of your pretty breast to take notes of your reactions; to watch your face change when his tongue flicks in a new area, his lips practically made out with your lower ones which drew out a slurry “Katsuki~” and whine, which turned him on so much he kept doing so until he slid his thick muscle inside you, his ego inflated in ways he didn’t think could hearing you whine and moan for him, he grew confident, shaking his head back and fourth, in circles softly groaning while the slick mixture of his drool and your arousal. His forearm holding down your thighs to get a wider view of your his pretty pussy.

Who knew he was such a messy eater.

But he stopped, you started crying.

The blonde would first hurt himself before he ever hurts you, especially after giving him the chance to share such an intimate moment . He panicked.

“Katsuki, it’s okay.” You cut off his stammers, his voice was already cracking, you tend to forget how sensitive he really is under that hard exterior. You rose your back up on the headboard and pulled him down, his arms changing you in on the side of you, “I wasn’t in pain. It was the opposite.”

“How, dumbass you fucking—“

“Shut up.” You try to keep a deadpanned face, but the scent of your pussy on his breath made you subtly bite your lip, it was hot. “Well first off you were overstimulating me. Secondly, sometimes we can instinctively cry when something feels good or overwhelming, kinda like when you see people cry during weddings. They’re…happy tears.”

His face was pouted, small beads of sweats trickling down his forehead, and cheeks so warm and squishy you pinch ‘em to get a reaction out of him, “Tch….i knew that.”

“….I was really making you feel good?”

You smile, landing a slow kiss on his slightly thinner ones and tugging his fattier lower lip, you nod, “You made me feel really good. So good I cried. It’s a compliment.”

Bakugo ponded for a few seconds,finally relaxing his body to let you hold him for a moment, your heart beats laid in sync with each other, enjoying the quiet ambiance of his dorm , naked and comfortable.

“Do you still wanna keep going or wanna try again later?”

“Only…only if you want to—-I mean I do obviously, but I don’t wanna make it weird.”

“You couldn’t make it weird if you tried I wanna keep going….i was close.” You fake pouted at him, a crack of the smile came from Bakugo, he sighed in fake annoyance rising up,

“Then lay back,” He says as he pulls you by your thighs so you can lie flat on your back, “this time don’t cover your mouth when I eat you, okay? ….You sound hot.”

“We won’t hear the end of it in class tomorrow…”

“I don’t give a fuck.” His last words were muffed by his lips pressing against your sticky gooey pussy.

[satori-runa]

—Come and love me

Summary: Mr.Crawling has different ways to love you.

Tags: Smut, Praise Kink, Cockwarming, Body Worship, Mutual Mastubation, Female reader, fluff, Spoilers for ENDING 04

Words: 1,8k

MDNI, ADULT CONTENT UNDER CUT

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Mr. Crawling is someone who craves the comfort of human touch, but he’s always considerate of your boundaries. No matter how much he yearns for affection, he puts your comfort first, often suppressing his own desires to ensure you’re at ease.

Still, he can’t help but get a bit whiny when you return after a long day outside. On the days when you ask him to stay home, he becomes lonely and restless, waiting impatiently for you. He often lies on your bed with his head nestled on your pillow, inhaling your scent to soothe himself until he hears your footsteps approaching the front door.

The moment you step inside and praise him for being well-behaved, he lights up completely. Mr. Crawling has a serious praise kink, and it’s evident. Mr. Crawling is practically addicted to your praise; it’s like his own personal drug. The second you open your mouth and let a sweet, honeyed word slip out, he’s already trembling with delight. He reacts instantly, a visible shiver of pleasure rolling through his body, mouth going wide as he drinks in every syllable. It’s not just about the words themselves but the way you say them—soft and genuine, like you really mean it. It makes him feel so loved, so needed.

He can’t hide how badly he wants it, how desperate he is for your approval. Even the smallest bit of praise, like a simple "Good boy," can have him biting his lip, his breath hitching as if you’ve touched him in the most intimate way. The effect is almost comical; his face flushes, and he looks like he’s on cloud nine, squirming slightly like he can’t quite contain himself. He craves it so deeply that he actively seeks it out, doing whatever he can to earn your compliments. Of course he deserves a treat for his good behavior.

The treat he prefers most is one he chose himself. Nothing satisfies him more than when you settle into his lap and cockwarm him, taking him by surprise as you sink down onto his length. The sudden feeling of you enveloping him never fails to draw out a choked gasp, his hips twitching up instinctively as he tries to control himself. He loves this position more than anything—the closeness, the intimacy of it. He holds you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded, his arms wrapped tightly around you, clinging as if you might slip away if he lets go. He’s reluctant to release you unless you explicitly ask him to; he’d keep you there forever if he could.

He savors the way your body fits perfectly against his, the softness of your skin against his cooler touch. He buries his face into your neck, breathing in your scent, his lips grazing your pulse as he shudders at the feeling of your warmth surrounding his cock.

He tries so hard to stay still, knowing you need this quiet moment of comfort, but it’s almost impossible for him. His hips shift ever so slightly, his cock throbbing inside you, and he can’t help the tiny, desperate movements he makes, even if they’re unintentional.

He can’t keep his hands to himself either. His fingers are restless, wandering across your body like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you. He takes moments to worship you, pressing his lips to your collarbone, your shoulders, any spot he can reach. His kisses are soft but hungry, lips parting as he drags his tongue over your skin, tasting the salt of your sweat. He lets out a needy, broken moan as his hands cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples, feeling them harden under his touch. He’s inexperienced, a little clumsy with his movements, but the eagerness behind it is undeniable. He’s trying so hard to make you feel good, his breath coming out in hot, ragged pants as he watches your reactions intently.

It’s not always sexual, at least not in the way he intends. Sometimes he just wants to feel you, to savor the heat of your body pressed against his, to revel in the way your warmth spreads through him. He loves the sensation of your skin against his own, the soft give of your flesh under his fingertips. But he can’t help himself; even when he’s just trying to hold you, he ends up teasing you without realizing it. His hips roll up slightly, and he groans low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your chest. He’s so sensitive, so easily overwhelmed by the feeling of you wrapped around him, that every little movement you make drives him wild.

He’s not practiced or skilled, and it shows in the way he fumbles, his touches uncoordinated but full of raw desire. He pinches your nipples a little too hard, a whimper escaping his lips when he realizes it, but instead of pulling back, he leans in closer, mouthing at the swell of your breast like he’s making up for it. His hands grip your waist, fingers digging into your hips as he struggles to keep himself from thrusting up into you. It’s like he can’t decide if he wants to savor the moment or chase after more, and it leaves him caught in this desperate, needy place that only you can pull him out of.

When it comes to mutual masturbation, it’s a different kind of intimacy, one that he’s hesitant about at first but quickly grows to crave. He hates touching himself when he’s alone, but with you, it’s different. You’re right there with him, your hand entwined with his, guiding him through the motions. He watches you, excited and breathless, his own hand trembling as he mirrors your movements. There’s something incredibly intimate about the way you both touch yourselves together, a shared vulnerability that makes his heart race.

He loves it when you talk to him through it, whispering sweet nothings, telling him how good he looks, how well he’s doing. It makes the experience bearable—no, more than that—it makes it beautiful. He’s not embarrassed when he’s with you: he’s not self-conscious or insecure. He’s just caught up in the moment, in the way your bodies move together, the way your breath hitches and syncs up with his.

When your hand finds his, coaxing him to stroke himself while you do the same, he whimpers softly, his fingers twitching against your palm. It’s overwhelming for him, the sensation of his own touch combined with the sight of you doing the same. He can’t stop himself from moaning, a needy, broken sound that escapes his lips as he watches you, completely captivated by the sight. "Me like you." You might whisper, and it takes everything in him to comply, the combination of your voice and your gaze making his whole body tremble.

You can tell how much he loves it by the way he leans into you, pressing his forehead to your shoulder as he touches himself with your guidance, whimpering in between. He’s panting, mouth open, like he’s too lost in the pleasure to look at anything else. The moment you reach out and wrap your hand around his, helping him stroke himself, he lets out a desperate moan, his entire body shivering as he clutches onto you. He’s a mess, but he’s your mess, completely undone by the shared pleasure and the feeling of your touch.

Mr. Crawling can be so eager when it comes to pleasuring you in return, that it borders on frantic. He doesn’t always take his time—sometimes, when he’s overwhelmed with excitement and craving you desperately, all of his usual patience flies out the window. He’ll drop between your legs, pulling you closer with a roughness that’s uncharacteristic for him, but it’s not out of aggression: it’s pure, unfiltered need. His hands are trembling as they grip your thighs, his breath hot and uneven against your skin. He’s already panting, like he can’t believe you’re letting him do this, and it makes him that much more impatient.

He dives in without hesitation, his mouth pressing against you hungrily, almost clumsily, as if he can’t bear to wait a second longer. His tongue flicks out, sloppy and uncoordinated at first, but it’s the urgency behind it that makes it so intoxicating. He’s lapping at you like a man starved, the sounds he makes—soft whimpers and desperate groans—filling the room. He’s inexperienced, but there’s something endearing about the way he tries so hard, so eager to please you even if he’s not entirely sure what he’s doing. He’s guided more by instinct than skill, following your reactions like they’re the only thing that matters.

He keeps glancing up at you, his face excited and yet almost pleading, as if he’s searching for reassurance that he’s doing it right. When he sees your pleasure written across your face, it only spurs him on. He loses himself in it, licking at you with a feverish intensity that makes it clear just how badly he needs this. He doesn’t bother with precision: he’s messy, licking you with broad, hurried strokes, his lips sucking at your clit with a desperate fervor. He moans into you, the vibrations sending little shocks of pleasure through your body, and you can tell he’s getting off on this as much as you are.

His grip on your thighs is almost bruising, like he’s afraid you might pull away. He’s whimpering into you, his tongue moving erratically, like he’s trying everything at once, too caught up in his own excitement to settle into any kind of rhythm. It’s overwhelming for him—the taste of you, the feel of your skin under his hands, the sounds you make when he hits a particularly sensitive spot. He’s panting between licks, his mouth never straying far from you, desperate to keep going even when he’s gasping for breath.

He’s a little too rough at times, sucking at your clit with a bit too much pressure, but the enthusiasm in his actions makes it hard to fault him for it. He’s learning from your reactions, his own inexperience showing through in the way he fumbles a bit, but it only adds to the intensity of the moment. When you tug on his hair, moaning out his name, he practically whines, grinding his face into you with renewed fervor. He’s almost overwhelmed by his own need, licking and sucking like he can’t get enough, like he’s trying to memorize every part of you with his mouth.

If you try to guide him, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging gently to slow him down, he lets out a frustrated, needy sound, shaking his head as if to tell you he doesn’t want to stop, doesn’t want to pace himself. He’s too lost in the moment, too eager to please, to care about taking his time. He’s devouring you like he’s afraid this is his only chance, like he’s desperate to prove how much he wants you, how much he loves being here, between your legs, giving you everything he can.

.

[lovelivision]

꒰꒰mdni // masterlist꒱꒱

Getting double penetrated by Gojo and Geto, taking them both at the same time. Laying on top of Gojo, head pressed to his chest, unable to help the way you’re drooling onto his skin. Geto behind you, cock sat deep inside your snug cunt, alongside Gojo’s.

Pussy overstuffed and making an obscene mess, not able to move, trying to adjust to the stretch of having both of them inside you. Gojo stroking your back and cooing at you, “Too much for you, sweetie?”

Shaking your head quickly against him, panting out, “No– hah– I’m good.”

Geto lets out an amused huff and leans down to you, murmuring low in your ear, “You always take it so well don’t you?”

His voice sends shivers down your spine, biting your lip to supress the moan you almost let out at his movements and words.

Both of them groan at your reaction, Gojo breathlessly asking, “You feel that, Suguru?”

“Mhm,” Geto cruelly blows on your ear, “You like when I talk to you?”

Your hips jerk, fucking yourself on the both of them, “Please.”

Gojo laughs but it comes out wrecked, “Sounds like you’re avoiding the question.”

“Can’t have that can we?” Geto directs at Gojo.

To which he only smiles back big and evil, “No, we can’t.”

They both begin moving at once, apparently knowing exactly what the other was thinking. Your cunt making lewd slick sounds as they both thrust in and out of you. Feeling so full it’s driving you up a wall, nails digging into Gojo’s chest under you. Breaths coming fast as you struggle to think, incoherent whines being the only thing that leaves you.

Your pussy sucking them both back in, twitching and squirming between the two of them. Using your hips to fuck yourself back onto the both of them as much as you can manage.

Geto pulls himself up, hands gripping your ass cheeks to pull them apart, choking back a moan at the sight of it all. Ruined when he says, “So messy, creaming all over us.”

“Wish I could see– hnn– next time we’re swapping – hah – positions, Suguru.” Gojo rambles out, obviously feeling jealous at being deprived of the whole view, “How does it feel, hmm?” Gojo asks you, wanting you to tell him how good it feels.

Your response is moaned, “Feels so– oh! I feel full.” Tears brimmed on your lash line.

“I fuckin bet,” he chuckles out. “Look here, look at me, pretty,” Gojo’s directing your attention to him.

It takes everything in you to look at him, he whines when you do, the look on your face making his hips jerk and stutter, pace ruined for a moment. You’re all teary eyed and mouth agape, choking on moans that don’t stop, it drives Gojo wild.

“Ohh that’s cute,” A hand reaches up and he wipes the spit from the corner of your mouth.

Geto grunts at the pace change, “You good, Satoru?”

“Oh yeah, just admiring the view,” he smirks at you.

The hum Geto lets out is low and thoughtful, his hands pulling at your ass again, “As much as I love this view, I wanna see how you cry for it, pretty.” Geto’s tone is bright, enjoying the thought of you falling apart for them. His eyes flick to Gojo’s, “Think we might have to swap positions next time after all.”

Then they’re sharing a cheeky smile with each other before drilling into you again, quicker, doubling their efforts to make you insane. The whimpers they’re pulling out of you just won’t stop, and Gojo’s holding such intense eye contact it’s making you feel bashful. Leaning into him, you plant your lips on his in a messy kiss.

Your tongue in his mouth before he can think, a loud moan caught in his chest at how insistently you kiss him. From behind, Geto clicks his tongue, hand reaching for your neck to pull you back and off Gojo’s mouth.

“Can’t have Satoru keeping all your pretty moans to himself,” he squeezes your neck lightly as a warning.

“Mm sorry,” you murmur out.

Gojo bites his lip and smiles at you, “I’m not.”

Geto gives a particularly harsh thrust, one that makes you cry out a moan and your head spin all at once.

The both of them at once just might kill you…

[screampied]

❝ IF I WAS A RICH GIRL . . ! ❞

ᡴꪫ sum. not only do you get your panties back but you get a handsome, suave sugar daddy as a gift. gojo takes you out on a date but the lavish, exquisite food isn’t what he’s exactly hungry for. hint: it’s between your legs. oh, and you.

wc. 6.6k

warnings. fem! reader, sugar daddy!gojo au, age gap (early twenties/early thirties), semi public themes, toy usage, gojo is a nasty menace, cunnilıngus, implied multiple ōrgasms, praise kink, mentions of brēeding, impact play, size kink, degradation, edging, manhandling.

➤ sd!gojo masterlist

“s- ssssatoru,” you hiss. clenching onto your fork, you squeeze your thighs together underneath a velvet red table. it was as if every area of your nerves could barely hold themselves together as they’re continuously being interrupted. interrupted by the sheer vibrations juddering your legs apart. he’s sitting beside you, humming to himself as his eyes skim through the pricey menu. acting as if he doesn’t hear your sweet faint whines, he heard them alright. loud and clear. it’s been a while—ever since that day, you’d have been a fool to not call him from the business card he gave you. accepting his precious offer to be a sugar baby. his sugar baby. and now, you were on a date with him. not just any date though, a date where he brings along a cute new bluetooth vibrator he bought for you. it’s happy new home was located right between your pretty thighs. the setting was powered on level four and you were so so close.

this was bad . . this was really really bad, the immense pressure steadily continues to arise. the bzzzing of the toy rings through your ears to where it gets stuck in your head. everything felt slow, real real slow. the entire five-star restaurant alone was quite loud. blaring with a multitude of conversations from talkative fellow guests. the vibrator makes you whine out a tiny, shrilling squeak, and you squeeze onto his pants leg. “you’re smiling. i know you can hear m- me.”

“huhhh, oh no sweet thing. ‘s just my natural face,” and he’s got a coy grin. he was definitely smiling. “let’s try one more level,” and your legs were just about to give out the moment the buzzing intensifies. so embarrassing, you keep trying to look around, in utter hopes that no one was looking your way. it felt so good, orgasmic even. you’re on your last final hinges of pleasure before he tugs against your ripped fishnets. “hold it, girl,” he directs, planting a kiss against your neck. “don’t finish, at least wait until our food comes. let’s try usin' those manners tonight, yeahh?”

“satoru jus’ let me cum,” you whine, grabbing his wrist. you feel against his g-shock. the cold, metal material making your cute fingertips shiver a bit.

out of amusement— he hums, watching as you try to drag his hand down between your heated thighs.

seeing how desperate you were for more of his beloved touch was adorable. your expanding heat only grows and that’s when you then slouch back against the fat padded restaurant booth. the fabric of your panties felt sticky—almost adhesive like with how it sticks against your mess between your lacey undergarments. just voluntarily glued against your plushed thighs. the toy’s been wavering against your pretty clit for about a good ten minutes. the waiter took you and gojo’s order quite a while ago since then—and those long ten minutes since then felt like long ten hours. “fuck, ‘toru. can’t hold it, pleasepleaseplease.”

“hmmmm,” gojo kneads a thumb against your wrist. his touch alone made you throb more. his touch, you just wanted more of it each time. it was addictive, like a drug, like candy even.

you’re so close to your release that it’s right there. at the very tip of your tongue, you could almost taste it. saliva pours into your mouth as the the inevitable pressure gradually emerges.

as people in the restaurant continue to walk by, you have to try to not be so obvious. you were failing miserably though—anyone could peer a look at you and spot the lewd expressions stretched across your face.

by now, you weren’t really trying to hide it. you were about to make a mess at a public restaurant, and maybe the simple thought of that alone made you pulse with no shame. “aw, y’r squeezin’ my wrist so tight, baby. really wanna make a mess, do ya?” and he leans right up against your neck, giving you a soft kiss. hot breath collides against your collarbone as he gives you a kiss, one simple kiss and you’re just so feral. not a single thought embedded into your mind except you were about to make the biggest nest imaginable. right underneath this table— all thanks to the stupid toy, and stupid satoru gojo, your beloved new sugar daddy. you’re nodding, tiny babbles of whimpers spewing out from your lips before he strums his fingertips against the rotating vibrator. gojo feels against the outer part of it sticking out of you, and he just wants to pull it out, making you cum himself with his tongue. he’s dirty but at least he has some kind of decorum. kind of. “so fuckin’ hot. gettin’ off at a five star restaurant like this, was supposed to be a special night but you just had to be a messy girl today, huh.”

“y- yes, ‘toru, please,” and your breathing hitches the second his frigid cold lips make contact against your skin yet again. if it was anything that could make you so weak, it was gojo’s obscene, sloppy kisses. you craved them like you craved air. “hafta cum, let me finish please. wan’ it so bad.”

with a little teasing sigh he murmurs, “okay fine,” and once he gives you the go ahead, you finally let go. the deafening music reverberating throughout the diner harmonizes over your orgasm— it was a tiny squeal but still. it silenced your own release, but you were still quite loud. you’re slump backward, feeling him turn off the toy from his phone with a simple button and he chuckles. “baby you’re so fuckin’ dramatic,” and he drags a thumb against your now soaked entrance. you’re panting, tummy heaving and heaving as your quaking legs were all sprawled open underneath the table. pried open just for him. “such a wet girl. kinda just wanna get a little taste. my own appetizer before the mea—”

“chilled alaskan king crab legs, two complementary cups of ice and herb roasted chicken—?” a waiter cuts off gojo as he’s flirting with you. with a whip of a head turn, he glances up, a bit annoyed at being interrupted. the waiter with the ordered food in hand stares at the two of you, a short petite male with a eye twitching expression. he gulped, seeing the gojo satoru and decided not to question just why his hand was literally between your thighs. “um, sorry for the delay. here you go.”

“thank you,” gojo cheeses a fake smile—yet as he watches intently as the waiter hands you both the steaming hot plates of lavish cuisine. he pops the same finger that was toying with you right into his mouth. you gaze at gojo, so filthy..

again, no shame at all—a shameless man at best. briefly, he sucks against his finger, savoring the after honeyed taste before smirking. it was as if he preferred your taste rather than the food sitting right in front of him. curling his tongue against his finger, he gives the server a coy nod. “keep the change, man.”

the waiter was stunned to see gojo reaching in his suit, grabbing out a whopping tip amount of four hundred dollars in cash—he stammers, accepting it with a grateful sheepish smile. “ah, t- thank you. please do come again.”

as the server leaves, you’re left with your own body still panting from your most recent teeth shattering release. the food was sizzling, piping hot. with hooded, partly open eyes, you dig your nails into his slacks. “you’re s- so nasty, ‘toru,” and picturing the image of him licking his finger like that . . just a few seconds ago as if it was nothing, you’d lie a bit if you said it didn’t turn you on. at least a little bit anyway. he snickers, planting a kiss against your jawline as you struggle to catch your incoming irregular breaths. “my panties are all soaked now.”

“and. let’s be real—when are you not wet, princess,” he teases, grabbing a napkin to wipe the remnants of drool seeping from the outer corners of your mouth.

gojo’s eyes were so pretty, the more you stare into his elegant, ethereal pupils— the more you wanted him. wanted more of him. swallowing, he grabs the front of your hand before kissing it. the moment his lips press against your hand, you feel your tummy swarm up with butterflies. “and don’t pout. ‘m gonna take them right off ya anyways, c’mon. let’s finish eating. got a surprise for ya back at home.”

at gojo’s mansion, secluded from other buildings to disturb his peace—his surprise for you was nothing more than his tongue.

“i need you so bad, you don’t fuckin’ understand,” he groans, and he’s making sure to take his time with you. his sweet precious time,

you’re in the master bedroom— his bedroom where it was known for having your sweet moans reverberating and bouncing off the walls. as you’re laid on your back, you let off a soft whine once he’s trailing his tongue everywhere down your body. he starts slow, making his way back up to kiss you. strands of delicate snowy strands tickle against your forehead as his lips harshly crash onto yours. you moan, sliding your tongue against his and tasting the leftover taste of what tasted like sweet, sweet tequila. he was still in his suit and tie and you wanted nothing more than to have it off. your hands roam to yank on his tie and he gradually grinds his body against you. “yeah, that’s right. ouch my body, girl. all yours.”

he’s speaking between lewd wet kisses. his voice was deep—his rhythm against your body was so passionate that it was almost carnal. you taste a bit of mint on his tongue also, separate tongues continue to dance and fight against each other all the while he’s left you speechless.

breathless even,

every few seconds he’d have to come up for air, nibbling against your bottom lip coltishly. “don’t be shy,” he whispers, watching as you hesitate to feel against his body. he finds that characteristic about you cute, how you were still shy yet slowly warming up to him. “touch me,” he repeats, his voice a bit more raspy— a bit more needy. so you do, raising your hand and you slip it underneath his dress shirt. as the cottony piece of clothing glides against your skin, he’s still compressing his lips against yours before your fingers start to roam further . . .

as they wander down the older man’s body, you feel his exact build. he was absolutely ripped, even in his early thirties—he could have easily been mistaken as a frat boy. it was no surprise, gojo practically spent his life in the gym. his personal gym anyway. you couldn’t help but take a peak at his buff biceps—only imagining what’d it be like for him to put you in a teasing chokehold.

those arms, that jacked build . .

the more you ponder about him manhandling you, the more you’re so close to making yourself more drenched. as everything progresses, you moan again. his sensual grinding against you gets more quicker and quicker over time. his hardened bulging boner rubs off on you and an arm of yours slings around his broad neck. “mhm,” he groans, feeling the soft centers of your fingertips stroke its way down toward his forbidden happy trail.

it trails and trails,

so pretty, just a beloved white trail of curled hair running down just above the horizontal border of the rest of his pubic hair. it starts near his navel and slides its way further down. a vertical strip of hair that you could never get your hands off of. as you’re still kissing him deeply, teeth gnashing amongst each other before gojo ultimately ulls away.

“fuck, ‘m gonna cum jus’ from kissing you,” he lets off a throaty laugh, trying to hide his flustered state. you had him so weak. so weak but he’d never admit that. gojo brings his swollen, dripping lips towards your neck, then your collarbone, all until he goes just a bit lower. “look at this body,” he coos, pausing to take in your beauty right underneath him. “yeah, ‘m gonna take such good care of you, sweets. jus’ lie back ‘n let me love you.”

his words were as smooth as silk— the deep, resonating pitch in it bellows all around the thin walls of his bedroom. the seductively sly baritone of his voice alone makes you pulse. if it was anything gojo had, he had a way with his fucking words. gojo purses his lips, coating your tummy with a plethora of kisses. you struggle to stay still, your expensive dress he bought you a few days ago for this exact occasion now all wrinkled and creases.

but truthfully,

he didn’t care—besides, he’d always buy you another one. his favorite motto. 

as you’re lounged back, he makes you spread your legs. “mwah,” he purrs against your skin, lolling out his tongue just a bit to create a slime wet trail. it goes all the way down until he reaches near your cute navel . . then up to your half ripped panties. they weren’t ripped before the date, but they certainly were now. “you’re so sensitive today. barely did anythin' ‘n you’re squirmin’ from my touch.”

“s- satoru, please,” you whine out a pathetic breath. a hand then grips onto his tangled strands like velcro. tightly, you didn’t let go— at least not yet anyway. his hair was were messy, and that simple detail alone made him ten times more attractive. gojo’s hair as usual was a bit slicked back but still unkempt, especially now due to your gluing grip. fingers of yours massage its way through his scalp and he almost moans. with a pouty expression, you continue to speak. “you’ve been edging me all day. ‘s no fair.”

“thaaaat’s kind of rude,” he chaffs with his white brows contorting into a furrow. “was the toy not enough?” and with a shushed tone, he whistles against your clit— giving it a soft kiss, a thumb peeling down the center. “oh, right.. probably wasn’t, forgot how greedy this pussy is. ‘s my bad.”

your back arches, and you moan once he prods two long fingers inside of you—your warmth envelops around his digits easily before he pulls it out to give it a good three second whiff. “sweet,” gojo slyly says, licking against his fingers. “would have rather ate this instead,” and you moan, watching how his mouth was practically watering from your alluring taste. such a nasty man, the nastiest. gojo leans up to you, tapping against your chin. “ah ah, open that mouth baby, before i eat. don’t wanna hog, wanna make sure ya get a taste too.”

whimpering, you part your lips— sticking out your tongue before his lengthy slender fingers tug its way into your mouth.

immediately, you suck around them, lashes of yours fluttering from your blissful arousal. “m-mhm,” you slip out an inaudible gasp, feeling his free hand grab against your twitching cunt. gojo’s staring at you with the most smug expression before he pulls his digits out, sneaking a wet kiss right on your mouth. as you taste yourself, a messy cobweb string of spit departs from each mouth before he lies you back down. “fuck, hurry ‘toru.”

“now . . baby, don’t rush me,” he teases, and with your back laid against the squishy cushioned mattress, he finally digs in. your knees poke and extend outward and a sweet whine rips out rawly out of your throat. it’s almost guttural, he’s yanking out noises from you that you didn’t even know you could even produce.

once gojo starts— it’s never ending. 

he could eat you out for hours, despite how his jaw would tense and tighten. you’re moaning at the way he starts off with sloppy kisses before just straight up digging in. nose deep within seconds. it swipes against your folds in various circular motions. the rotation of his tongue was brutal— you’re whimpering, maintaining a rough grip against his hair and he chuckles. sucking deeply against your puffy slit. you throb in his mouth, and you’re already squelching. gojo groans, reaching a hand inside of his executive pants to stroke himself off.

your pleasure was his pleasure after all. he wanted to always make that clear.

gojo wasn’t lying about pointing out how hard you made him. a thumb of his runs down the vein that remains on his dick. with his eyes closed, he allows his tongue to wander through every part of your pussy. he knew just where to go. he knew the exact spots to make you scream and whine out for more.

with ease, he locates every orifice— he doesn’t miss anywhere, more so because he can’t afford to. 

gojo loves more than anything to make out with your cunt. his most favorite thing to do was to french kiss against it.

after each obscene mwah after mwah, he even allows his own saliva to help him out— despite how you were already a practical dripping faucet. careless, saturated kisses of his had you throbbing time and time again in his mouth. his head vigorously shakes back and forth, side to side as you’re practically shoving him forward. “eh—easy on the hair, pretty,” he jibes, concisely parting his lips away. gojo stares at his thumb that’s trying to insert its way in. he grows quiet, watching the scene in front of him. within long extended seconds, your pussy’s swallowing the single digit whole and you swear under your breath at how lengthy his fingers were . . even a simple thumb. gojo’s thumb stretched you out so good that you couldn’t even comprehend the feeling in words. not like you could comprehend anything anyway, you were already stupid. all from his tongue, his touch, everything. “god, such a wet girl. the nerve to be walkin’ around this soaked, ‘n she’s quite the talker today too..”

as he’s rambling with a thumb entering in and out of your cunt, he takes a moment to spit on it. it’s shimmery, he blows against it before letting off a flirty whistle. “yeah she fuckin’ is,” he praises your folds. “oooh, bet she’s gonna give me a nice squirt or two later,” and you moan once he brings his chatty lips back towards it. your pool of heat continues to grow before he lays his tongue flat. he was always a man to make a bit of a mess. your heartbeat starts to get so rapid that you heard it’s pulse right through your ears. the firm grip you have on his hair was tight. tangled crumped up fingers combing right through his hair— it makes him a bit hard. the feeling of you dragging him back and forth against his face. you could barely keep your legs open but you didn’t want him to stop. he’s practically slobbering over your pussy before he breaks away, giving you a smug grin. “like when i make out with her more than you?”

“f-fuck, ‘toru,” was all you could mutter out in shaky lips. as he’s relishing his meal between your thighs, gojo spanks your cunt twice. you’re so soaked that a few sloshing droplets hit against his skin. “ngh, you’re teasin’ me. ‘m gonna cum if you k-keep doin’ that.”

sucking passionately against your clit, his tongue flicks against the sensitive nub. that spots has you short circuiting. “nuh uh, good girls cum when they deserve it,” and the tempo of his suckling gets quicker by the mile. you’re about to break, unceremoniously grinding your hips against his mouth so much to where he chortles. as he laughs, hot breath of his fans against your pussy and it only makes you throb ten times more. 

straight convulsions, 

you’re feeling so many sensations languidly twitch against your body all at once that you could barely keep up. everything’s fuzzy so you felt like you were on cloud eight. cloud nine or whatever people call it— honestly, your mind was far too fried to even figure it out. gojo grunts, snapping you back to reality with a soft swat against your folds. “be honest with me, sweets,” gojo slicks his tongue out of your clingy walls, peppering a playful kiss against your soddened, moist folds. “do ya deserve to cum? do ya deserve to be my messy baby? tell me the truth.”

with a cute, exasperated sigh, you sob out a needy cry. “y- yesss, i’ve been good, ‘toru. been good all day,” and his sucking against your clit grows within speed. the very cartilage of his nose against his nose prods against your entrance and you feel like you’re floating. the tip of his nose was all soaked, all because of your cunt continuously scooting up against it. as he’s propped right up between your legs, a hand of his squeezes down on your right thigh before giving it a little bite. your legs, one of his favorite things to gently press his teeth into. as well as your neck, but your legs—they were just a force to be reckoned with. you were a force to be reckoned with. “satoruuuu.”

“sweetheaaaaart,” he mocks your cute dragging of your words, slurping every lewd amount of your primal arousal. you’re so cute, barely bring able to stay still so much to where he’s got to hold you in place. “but you were bein’ a bit of a brat earlier,” he hoarsely utters, rubbing his hard on against the edge of the bed. “teasin’ me, even tried ‘ta stroke me off while we were in the diner,” and with coy eyes, he gives you a cunning smirk. as you pout, he simpers. “aww yeahhh, remember that dontcha?”

continuing to rut your sloppy cunt against his face, he playfully nibbles against your clit — you whine, biting down on your lip before spreading a plump thumb against your folds like jelly.

“dunno if she should be messy just yet,” and he’s such a tease. as he speaks, his eyes avert towards your pussy, clearly wanting you to understand he was talking to her and not you. at least not right now. you could hear the playfulness underneath his tone. your heart’s racing— it’s so intense, your legs were quavering within his hold. struggling to maintain decent breaths, you end up finishing anyway. it hits you so abruptly that it’s rude, all kinds of nerves surge through you and your mouth pries itself open. the only thing escaping out of your sweet dry throat was a desperate, wailing whimper. gojo pauses, bringing a final kiss against your pussy before smearing a thumb against his lips. “the fuck.”

“s- sorry,” you pant, but truth be told—you weren’t. in fact, if he squinted just enough, he could see the little smile trying to stretch itself against your guilty, sheeny lips. you’d only last a few minutes with his tongue, featuring his long fingers, but still. 

first and foremost, your powerful orgasm had you feral, a cooling air suddenly sets down against your skin as your legs tremble before your pussy gets slapped with a mean smack. one turns into two, then three, then four . . 

“f- fuuuck, ‘toru,” you gasp, hearing the wet swats against your cunt. you’re still sensitive, your swollen folds all dampened with nothing but your slick, soaking arousal. so wet, so sloppily wet and only wet just for him.

“we talked ‘bout this, sweets,” gojo grumbles, giving your folds an almost disappointed kiss. “but ‘s like ya never listen, guess y’r pussy needs more training,” and as you’re trying to collect as much gasps of air as you can through your full lungs, he squeezes your cunt with his entire wrist. unzipping his slacks, he leans into you before pulling you into a kiss. the entire spacey room was dim lit, velvety shaded rose petals scattered everywhere onto the crinkled sheets. gojo knew how to set the mood. as he shoves a tongue down your throat, still getting a good grip of your cunt with his palm, he then makes you flop right onto your back. “mch,” he hastily pulls away, a tongue savoring your sweetened lip gloss that smothers itself against your twitching mouth. “can’t look at ya right now. face that way, yeah. face down ‘n ass up. jus’ like i taught ya, pretty.”

with unsteady hands sinking into the bed, you do as he says. a soft whine ferociously snatches out of you once a big hand of his caresses your left ass cheek. his touch, you were always so weak for it. ever since you first met the man, your first encounter which was about approximately almost two weeks ago. you started to get deeply attached, well, at least your body was . . 

as you arch forward, you feel a soft scratchy material plop against your back. gojo doesn’t waste time, tugging down his own brand of boxers with his last name stripped in bold letters near the stretchy hem. grunting, he springs his aroused dick out, aligning himself against your achy, drooling entrance. the feeling of material was just gojo throwing a few wads of cash near your back. “bratty but gorgeous,” he scoffs, feeling you wriggle your ass against him. oh, you were gonna be the death of him. the fifty dollar bills trail and slide down your spine— the view of it was so sexy, he wanted to savor this moment. you’re his favorite girl, he already knew it. a hand of his grips near your hip. “needy ‘lil thing. just gotta move that ass against me,” and as he’s speaking, he gifts your ass with another impolite spank. “ugh, pussy’s to die for.”

“s- satoru, fuck me,” your plea came out of your mouth in such a small tone. it was cute, your knees that dug into the mattress remain to grow shaky and wobbly before nearly giving out. the size difference amused him.

the delicious size of his fat cock was pure bliss. you don’t think you could ever get used to it. every time with him always felt like the first. with two clingy big hands glued to your waist, he’s easing his way in slowly. his fat tip ploddingly opens up the outer sloppy walls of your entrance and you’re so slick for him that you’re already coating gojo from the very base down. growing a bit frustrated that it seems like he’s taking forever, you creep a hand down between your thighs to touch yourself but he only spanks your wrist away.

“girl—please, let’s not touch my pussy today,” he warns slyly, catching your hand with quick reflexes.

you moan, feeling his girth expand throughout your walls. he’s just so fucking big, your mouth stretches itself open and a tiny squeak escapes. “so wet, mhm, listen to how sloppy you get for me,” and you end up falling face forward into the bed. with your ass still up in the air, he’s easily emitting such filthy moans from your throat. your pussy doesn’t take long to constrict around his hefty length. gojo always fits nice and snug inside, you wholeheartedly take him inside, drooling from how your cunt grips around him in such a secure way. just one thrust, a single thrust from gojo and you were already limp. “thereee we go, take it, pretty.”

“i-i’m gonna cum,” you whine, speaking in an almost breathy way. fat callused fingertips of his run down your spine, sending you various shivers before he spanks your bass again. the dollar bills that lay against your back start to fall right off of you from the quick paced movements. “s- sirrrr,” and with another smack, he corrects your sweet tone so you can rephrase and address him the right way. “i— i mean satoru, fuck you’re s’big. ‘m gonna cum again.”

“oh, don’t be dramatic sweetheart,” he purrs in a rich tone, feeling you already start to gape around him. your pussy flutters from his thick entrance, and once he starts up a pace you’re frantic for more. a hand of his wraps around the back of your throat like a necklace before the ruthless drilling eventually starts. the sticking cacophonous pap pap paps against each jerking limb paps was so loud. skin against skin, body against body, you felt your jaw tighten. he’s so precise and rigorous with his sharp hips that it gives you whiplash. you’re never prepared—even if you try to be. gojo knows how to hit every part of your cunt in such a way to make you squeal out in pleasure, in ecstasy. he’s got an upward curve that wanders all inside of your caved love areas. just a few thrusts and you were already salivating. “mhm,” he huffs, hearing the stickiness your cunt sings against his base. already, it’s a wet trail coating around his dick with each time he pulls out before back in. “don’t get lazy on me, pretty. i need to see a better arch. even i can do better than that.”

with a pout at his maddening cockiness, he spanks you again. you arch your back forward a bit more and he coos, “good fuckin’ girl,” and he grabs a nice chunk of your ass. burying your head into the crook of your elbow, it takes him barely any time at all to locate your forbidden g-spot.

once he hits it exactly, the sound that escapes from your lips was adorable—it was a little shriek, it sounded so beatific and harmonious it was as if he was listening to a song. a song he never wanted to end, your sweet voice. “goddamn,” he groans, feeling your ass thwack its way back against him in salacious rapture. oh, but despite that all, he knows you’re nothing but a tease. especially with your movements against him, happily moving your hips in sync with his. you’re fucking back against him and it makes him kiss his teeth. “maybe this ‘s what ya needed all along, wanted ‘ta spoil you today but all you wanted was dick, ‘s that right, sweet thing?”

“n- no,” you lie through your teeth, your own voice muffled with how you’re speaking inside of your elbow. your voice was shaky, trembling on every dragging syllable before the bed starts to get rickety. it creates sound with you both— making its own types of lewd harmonies. gojo’s weight pressing against you makes you throb, you were feeling all kinds of pleasure at once. whimpering once more at how he’s stuffing you full of thickset inches, you try to reach down to touch yourself. 

“don’t play with me,” he catches your wrist again, an almost snicker departing from his lips.

damn, so close.

holding onto your wrist, he notices you squeeze his hand, rubbing a thumb against his fingers. “aw, does the baby wanna hold my hand?” and as you struggle to nod, he gently pins your arm back.“you’re somethin’ e-else.”

his words start to cut off a bit as he’s keeping up a decent tempo—the frame of the king sized bed starts to get jittery. all from the weight and his sloppy hips rigorously pounding into you. the bed’s creaking, it’s almost deafening with how it screeches aloud from the massing pounds of hefty pressure crushing against it. “d-don’t stop, please,” and he’s just fucking you into his pillow. even the satiny rich sheets of his pillows smell like him. his signature musky scent of his gojo satoru cologne.

. . speaking of,

his pillows even have his last name bedazzled on them. literal cursive letters of ‘gojo’ written in blue. if you weren’t so fucked out, you’d roll your eyes. he’s so deep, a hand of his explores the entire curvature of your hips. your curves were one of his favorite parts of your body, he could touch you all day long if he really wanted. the loving warmth that body provided him had him wanting more—yearning for more, more of you. gojo always relishes in how you respond to just a few of his fingers of his dancing against your skin. you were so sensitive and it was a real sight to witness. one of his favorite sights. “fuck, ‘toru. right there, riiight there, fuck.”

as his hips become more sharper, he hits against that same spot that causes a short circuit in your brain. you’re gasping—holding your breath before whining, he’s so thorough. hands of yours slide underneath your barely unclamped bra, fondling against your jerking tits. “good girl, play with y’r nipples for me like that,” and he swats another discourteous spank against your ass. this time it’s harder, it stings for a second and you whimper out from the sudden contact. after he spanks it, he always caresses it, rubbing the soft palm of his hand to make the sudden sting subside. “y’r so fuckin’ hot, pussy’s gonna make me fall for y—”

and he stops his words right at that last bit. your heart flutters— or maybe that was just your pussy, but you were no idiot. you knew what he was gonna say. or maybe you were delusional and misheard what he was saying. 

gojo satoru was a filthy man, he steals out orgasm after orgasm out of you like it’s nothing. he was a little older, which meant that he was a bit more experienced.

quite a lot more than you by a long shot, he made you feel ways in where other men never could. couldn’t even come close. maybe that’s why you were so attracted, why you wanted more . . 

a well known businessman, but downright nasty in the sheets. he couldn’t help it, nor did he even really care. gojo had you wrapped around his rich finger, just like how you had him wrapped around yours. 

with him,

the passionate intimacy lasts for many many hours. timeless, numerous until your legs were sore, until you’re just being a cum dump for him. you’re pumped full until it’s leaking out of your cunt. so stuffed, with your panties still lazily pulled to the size, some remnants of his cum coats against it. he’s lost count of how many rounds it was— maybe four, five, or was it eight. 

all you knew was that your legs had been gave out. you were now flat on your back and he’s fucking you in missionary.

beloved, iconic missionary,

the perfect position to stare you right into your eyes. he grows a liking to grab your chin right when you’re about to cum, peeling your bottom lip down, only to then shove a tongue down your throat. speaking between breathy sentences, he groans—rocking his fit body against yours. “kiss me, baby, suck my tongue,” and as he’s swaying back and forth, washboard abs poking through his shirt, your legs lock around his slim waist. a hand of yours slides its way through his dress shirt and tux, feeling against his faint chest hair and washboard abs before you part your lips. you only then start to gradually suck against the tip of his tongue. his heart beats speedily, synchronizing with yours entirely. he’s dizzy, the static that your body produces against him makes his head throw back as he pulls away. glancing up at the ceiling, still presenting your cunt deep solid strokes—he knew you were gonna be a problem. 

his prettiest problem,

perhaps he wasn’t starting to think of you as just his sugar baby, maybe even something more . . but he buried that thought into the very back of his mind. all he really cared about was your pleasure. 

pulling away for a moment, still buried into your sopping wet cunt, he grips your chin. whispering in a weary tone, smiling at you, he sighs. “. . tell me,” and he gifts your wet lips a chaste kiss. “you wanna finish with me, pretty?”

“p- please,” you moan, your legs tightly locking around his waist, never letting go. everything was a mess— the entire room had a balmy aroma of love and passion. the both of you were sweating, beads of sweat coating each body. more so gojo, this was a mere work out for him. although, he was actually used to using his body on a daily, so physical activity never bothered him in the slightest. your stomach continues to seize from his fat length and he inches his mouth toward your neck again. his lips were so soft, gently sucking against your tender skin throughout each intimate moment.

viscous amounts of cum race down your thighs as if it’s some kind of lewd competition. as it’s slowly trickling down between your legs slowly, a hand of his slithers down your shaky limbs to feel it. to make sure it doesn’t go to waste, to make sure it doesn’t spill.

gojo satoru’s cum was priceless—quite literally probably. plugging it back in before you whine. “wanna cum with you, ‘toru.”

“can never say no to you, baby,” he hums, bringing another kiss to your lips. despite his raspy worn out tone—he’s still so gentle with your body in his hands. gojo’s zealous hips slow down a bit before his lips capture against yours again. a hand swiftly wraps around your throat, briskly oscillating back against your body before another hand grabs the headboard. you glance up, spitting the veins poke out through his sleeves that were peeling down. he’s giving you slow, sensual thrusts. “fuuuck . . me,” and his words were delayed by a few seconds. he’s mercilessly grinding against your heat so good to where it becomes sloppy. he’s so close again—he knows that feeling all too well. you didn’t know what to focus on. gojo’s length, the girth that keeps your walls sweetly captive, or his voice but it was all so appetizing. so . . flavorsome.

he couldn’t help but slow down his hips a bit. with a single hand, he reaches down to pull his leaky dick out right before he came. he shot into you already—dozens of times actually, but he felt like being a tease again.

“ugh,” he groans, feeling his base swollen itself up. as you finish on your own, your body transmitting into a shockwave of a wave of rapturing rhapsody he mimics you before a stringy amount of ropes splat right onto your folds. it’s so much, so viscous and goopy that paints the entrance of your cunt to where it’s as if your pussy was a mere canvas for him. “look at thaaaat,” and as he licks his lips, you’re shaking right underneath him. gojo leans in to kiss you and that’s when the bed suddenly jitters. it’s rumbling but he ignores it— bringing you into the nth kiss for the night. “atta girl.” he whispers between kisses.

as you’re leaning into his touch, your anklet erotically rubs down the muscles of his back in such a sensual way. with tongues tangling together in corresponding harmony, the expensive wood on the headboard suddenly breaks. it’s a ear-splitting noise, an almost creak. noticing the noise, you break away from his lips before sheepishly muttering. 

“did the bed just . . break?”

“perhaps,” gojo whispers, but he was totally unfazed. you had him pussy whipped, he didn’t even look tired.

pretty cerulean irises gaze into your all—so pretty that it almost could be mistaken for a solid pigment of green. a jade loving kind of green that you only see in jewels. his intense, needy stare longs into you for a few more seconds before he makes you flip over. you gasp, still feeling his cum ooze out of you from the inside. it was so feverishly warm, sweltering hot with bulks of his sticky seed. all that and you just wanted more, you didn’t care how greedy or needy you came across.

snickering, gojo picks up the money that’s scattered everywhere on the bed only to put them right back on your back where it belongs—

he then sticks a single fifty dollar bill between your lazily stuck-to-the-side panties before letting off a dry laugh.

“let’s not worry about that though. let’s worry ‘bout how ‘m gonna try ‘ta get you pregnant, tonight sweetheart. nowww, let’s practice that arch again one more time, my love. bend over just for me, yeah. atta fuckin’ girl.”

[plutotheplum]

XO

akaashi keiji x fem!reader

summary: being the manager of the msby black jackals is stressful, but when a handsome stranger shows up, you think you might’ve stumbled upon a hidden perk.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, post-time skip, kissing, oral sex, blowjobs, p in v, smut, fluff

wc: 5.3k

a/n: watched the movie last night and i cried (if you saw this post before, no you didn't) <3

also on ao3!

Six months in, and you think you might be ready to quit your job.

Sure, securing a job as the MSBY Black Jackal’s manager was one of your proudest achievements, but no one had told you that you’d be dealing with men like this. You understood that you were in the presence of some of the finest sporting talent in Japan, but these men were wildly immature.

It’s why you’re here now, glaring at the man who had made fun of his teammate.

“What were you thinking?” you hiss, pointing your pen at the offending man.

Atsumu groans, his head tipping back against the wall of the locker room. “I was only having a little fun.”

“A little fun,” you reply, nodding along, “right, and that’s why Bokuto is off sulking in who knows where!”

“C’mon!” Atsumu protests, leaning forward, staring at you desperately, “I made a comment on the color of his shoes! How was I supposed to know that was gonna set him off?”

You can feel a headache begin to set in and you sigh, pointing towards the door of the locker room.

“Just go warm up, okay? I’ll try and find Bokuto.”

Atsumu nods, and has the grace to look at least a little apologetic as he pats your shoulder and leaves.

You follow him soon after, out of the locker room. Bokuto’s sulking most likely meant he wasn’t going to perform as well. You knew about his bouts of being discouraged, had seen it during the occasional game when something would set him off. People are milling about, and you quicken your pace, turning a corner to finally find Bokuto sitting on a bench.

“Bokuto!” you call out, the relief in your voice clear.

The outside hitter looks up at you, a pout on his face. 

“You ready for the game?” you ask, putting on a wide smile to try and make him feel better.

“Do you think they’re ugly?” 

“W- what?”

“My shoes,” he says, pointing at them, “do you think they’re ugly?”

You have half the mind to tell him that they’re just shoes and that he should grow up, but the look of utter despair on his face has you holding back. A quick glance down at his shoes and from what you can gather, they look relatively… normal. You were definitely going to kill Atsumu later.

“They look fine,” you say, pausing when you see his frown deepen. Your fingers tighten around the clipboard clutched against your chest and you put on a cheery smile, voice pitching up. “I meant they look totally great! And they really suit you!”

Bokuto makes no attempt to move, simply stares down at his shoes and traces one of the stripes absentmindedly. You’re at your wits end, growing antsy as you check your watch and realize there’s only 10 minutes before the game starts.

“I could get you some new-“

“You doing okay?”

A voice breaks in through from behind you and your head turns, brows furrowing when you see an unfamiliar man. The lanyard around his neck has a card attached to it, bold letters spelling out VIP . 

“Akaashi!” Bokuto sits up, his eyes lighting up for a moment, “do you like my shoes?”

You stare at the pair of men, bewildered. The man, Akaashi, pats Bokuto’s shoulder and lowers his voice to whisper some words to the pro-volleyball player. In what you think might be the quickest change of mood from Bokuto yet, the volleyball player stands up and gives a hearty laugh, his chest puffing out. 

You’re even more stunned when he pats your back happily and jogs off in the direction of the court.

“How did you do that?” you blurt out, eyes flitting towards the man who was now standing beside you.

“I used to play with Bokuto in highschool,” Akaashi replies, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “Fukurodani. I was the team’s setter so I had to get used to Bokuto's little slumps.”

Huh. That did make more sense. You narrow your eyes, examining the man a little more. He’s handsome, sure, his glasses sitting on the slope of his nose as he shifts on the spot. Akaashi stares back down at you expectantly.

“Uh- well, thank you,” you say, holding your hand out and giving him a sheepish smile. “I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to get him onto the court at all today.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says, his hand shaking yours. 

You introduce yourselves and he follows you onto the stands, both of you overlooking the two teams as they line up on the court. Nervousness makes you restless, your teeth biting into your lower lip as you watch the players get into position. You really wanted the Jackals to win.

“Relax,” Akaashi murmurs, his head lowering to speak directly into your ear to help you hear better over the roar of the crowd.

Your eyes meet his and he stares back at you intently, his hand squeezing at your shoulder gently. You think some sort of magic might be laced into his words with the way your body loosens slightly, your tense shoulders dropping.

“Thank you,” you mumble, giving him a faint smile.

Akaashi smiles back and squeezes your shoulder one more time before his hand drops away. You nearly protest against it, wanting to feel the heat of his body near yours again, but you can’t because you’ve only just met the man and you aren’t that desperate.

The game goes perfectly well, thankfully, and you’re up on the tips of your toes cheering for the Jackals as they shake hands with the other team. Your previous nervousness has all  melted away, leaving only a feeling of pure giddiness. Akaashi claps with you, his reaction much more toned down compared to yours.

“You can come down with me,” you say breathlessly, flicking through a few pages on your clipboard to find the schedule for the post game press conference.

Akaashi nods, his eyes drifting over you for a moment. “Yeah, I’ll come. I need to congratulate Bokuto anyways.”

You beam up at him and against better judgment, hand him a copy of the schedule before giving him a wave and disappearing off to meet the team. Akaashi watches as you flutter away, skirt swaying, the piece of paper clutched tightly in his hand. 

- 

“No talk of shoes, okay?” you warn Atsumu as you had him a bottle of cold water. “We can’t have Bokuto breaking down on national television.”

“You worry too much,” Atsumu complains, pressing the bottle of water against his flushed cheek.

“My job is on the line!” you argue, giving the man a glare.

Atsumu only gives you a pout and you thank Meian when he comes to get his teammate, grateful for the captain’s unwavering leadership.

You slip into the conference room before long, making sure to give the Jackals an encouraging smile and a thumbs up before you sidle up to the wall, watching as the various reporters ready their questions.

A few bottles of water sit on a table beside you and you reach for one, twisting at the cap. The stupid plastic burns across your skin harshly, making a glare settle on your face as you narrow your eyes at the bottle of water. You try again but to no avail, the cap latching on stubbornly tight. A soft curse gets muttered under your breath before someone’s hand reaches out, grabbing the bottle of water from you.

You blink in surprise when you realize it’s Akaashi, his hand twisting at the cap effortlessly and breaking the seal. 

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“That’s the third time today,” he whispers back, his eyes glimmering with mirth, “should I keep sticking around for more of your thanks?”

A smile pulls at your lips and you glance up at him to find him smiling back. 

“Don’t be an asshole,” you mutter, elbowing him in the side lightly.

Akaashi hums in response, his warm hand grasping at your elbow to hold you in place. You freeze for a moment, surprise flitting across your face but then you lean into him slightly, avoiding his eyes as you press into his side. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything, just stands there with you, his eyes trained on the little notes you scribble on paper as the players speak.

To your relief, Atsumu manages to steer clear from the topic of shoes, answering the reporters’ questions thoroughly with a bit of humor thrown in, to lighten the atmosphere of the press conference. You find that you can’t really be all that mad at the man, he knew how to get the job done when it came to it.

The press conference comes to a close half an hour later and Akaashi trails after you as you usher the men back into the main foyer.

“Good job everyone,” you announce before flicking through a few pages of your clipboard. “The Chairman has been impressed with your performance this season, so he’s personally sent a congratulatory cake.” You stare pointedly at Atsumu and Bokuto. “Please make sure to not make a mess.”

The men are gone in a rush before you can say anything else and you smile fondly, shaking your head.

“You gonna let me get in on this cake thing?” Akaashi asks, raising his brows.

“You’re welcome to join,” you reply, shooting him a smile as you try to not sound too eager. “You do have VIP status, after all.”

Akaashi smiles back and you think it might be a miracle that your legs haven’t given out under the soft gaze he sends you. 

Thankfully, Atsumu and Bokuto don’t make a mess although you do spot them bribing Hinata to bring them a few more slices, the orange-haired man utterly oblivious to the fact.

“Hey,” Akaashi murmurs, stepping in beside you as you finish off your piece of cake. “You’ve got a little something.” He motions to the corner of your mouth.

“Oh!” you flush with embarrassment, wiping at the corner of your mouth with a napkin. “Gone?”

“Just a little more,” he says, watching as you try and fail to get rid of the chocolate icing that’s smudged over your lips and the corner of your mouth. “Just- here, let me.”

You freeze when he reaches out for you, his thumb swiping over your lip and skin gently, cleaning you up.

“Napkin?” you ask weakly, offering it to him so he can clean his thumb.

“No need.”

Akaashi keeps his eyes on you as he licks the pad of his thumb, your hazy eyes following the motion of his tongue, a rush of heat pooling in your lower stomach.

“Do you-” you begin, clearing your throat when you hear how airy your voice has become, “do you do this often?”

A smile pulls at his lips and he leans in a little closer, his breath fanning across your skin as his mouth opens to murmur something into your ear.

“Hey, hey, hey!”

You jolt, half-lidded eyes snapping open when you find Bokuto slinging his arm around Akaashi’s shoulders. Irritation flashes through Akaashi’s eyes but it seems to fade when Bokuto begins to speak animatedly, detailing the past events Akaashi had missed.

Part of you would’ve liked to speak to Akaashi more, but you can’t find it in yourself to fault Bokuto, deciding to busy yourself with getting another slice of cake. A heavy arm slings itself around your shoulders and you roll your eyes when you realize it’s Atsumu, the wide grin on his face making you feel uneasy.

“Saw you getting real chummy with Bokuto’s friend,” he whispers conspiratorially, trying to swipe at your cake slice. 

“I was being friendly,” you retort, glaring up at Atsumu.

“You look like you wanna fuck him.”

“Your observations are not appreciated,” you grit out, trying to squirm away from under him when he steers you into a corner.

“Good news is, I think he wants to fuck you too,” Atsumu says smugly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“ Why are you doing this?” you groan, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“Because you, my lovely manager, deserve happiness!” he says cheerily.

Your eyes narrow, taking in the smile on Atsumu’s face, suspicion flaring. “What did you do?”

“What?” Atsumu’s smile falters. “Nothing. Why do you always assume I did something?”

“Because you usually do something, Atsumu,” you reply exasperatedly, trying to peek out from behind him to catch another glimpse of Akaashi.

Atsumu rolls his eyes, moving to the side so as to block your view of Akaashi.

“Let’s hear it then,” you say, peering up at him. 

He beams at you, his head lowering so he can whisper into your ear. “Just make sure you take charge. Guys like that sort of thing. Yank him by the shirt or something and kiss him. My advice is foolproof .”

Was the advice really foolproof if the fool himself was giving it to you?

You shoot Atsumu a skeptical look, waving him off before he puts any more ridiculous ideas into your mind. 

As the night passes, the amount of players reduces, deciding to make their way back home. Atsumu shoots you a wink in passing and you glare back at him, fighting the urge to swat him.

“Heading home?” 

You blink up to find Akaashi standing beside you, his brows raised.

“Yeah,” you say, a wistful smile coming across your face, “it’s been a long day.”

“I could drive you home?” Akaashi offers, falling into step beside you as you both exit the volleyball stadium.

You had been planning to just catch an uber or something, but when Akaashi stares down at you like that , his gaze soft and lips looking sickeningly inviting, you nod immediately.

A few stolen glances later coupled with you biting back an inappropriate remark at the way his lithe fingers wrap around the steering wheel, you find yourself standing opposite Akaashi in the open doorway of your apartment.

“I guess I’ll see you around?” you say, peering up at Akaashi.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Akaashi murmurs, his hands shoving into his pockets.

Akaashi shows no signs of leaving however. Silence passes over you as you both just stand there, staring at each other. Your gaze dips down to his shirt, trying to stop Atsumu’s obnoxious voice from blaring through your normally rational decision making.

Yank him by the shirt or something and kiss him.

Eyes flitting up again, you decide to take your chances. Your hand curls into Akaashi’s shirt, yanking him towards you, lips crashing onto his. Several seconds pass and Akaashi stands there limply, his lips unmoving and non-reciprocating. 

“I’m so sorry,” you blurt out, feeling utterly mortified as you let go of him. “Atsumu said you wanted to fu- I mean- he said guys liked that sort of thing!”

At the same time, Akaashi begins to speak. “Bokuto said you weren’t interested.”

“ What? ” you sputter, eyes widening. Frustration sets your nerves alight and you fish out your phone, dialing Bokuto’s number, ready to give him an earful. 

“Hey,” Akaashi says, plucking your phone from your hand and setting it down onto a nearby dresser, “think you could do that after I kiss you?”

Your flurry of movements pauses, breath hitching when he steps inside your apartment, the door shutting behind him softly. He smiles down at you, arm wrapping around your waist to pull you closer.

“Oh,” you breathe out, eyes fluttering as he spins you around, pushing you up against the door gently, “y-yeah, I can do that.”

“Yeah?” he whispers, the tip of his nose brushing yours. One of his hands slips up higher, smoothing over the length of your neck to cup your cheek.

You let out an incoherent noise, managing out a jerky nod. Akaashi laughs, tilting your head to the side as he places a soft kiss on your cheek. Your eyes flutter shut, heart racing uncontrollably in your chest as he drags his lips across your skin, planting another kiss to the corner of your mouth.

His glasses dig into your skin but you can hardly find it in yourself to care, pulling him closer desperately when he slots his lips over yours. Akaashi kisses you heatedly and you whine, arms wrapping around his neck to return his kisses eagerly. His tongue gently parts your lips, hands slipping back down to squeeze at your waist and move you flush against him.

A few stumbles later and you’re pushing his chest, watching as he falls back onto the couch. Akaashi grins, his thighs spreading invitingly as he gets comfortable.

“Come sit on my lap, baby.”

You don’t have to be told twice. You scramble up onto his lap, straddling his hips, lips finding his again. Akaashi groans when you run your fingers through his hair, hips rolling across his lap as he spreads his fingers over your skirt, groping at your ass.

“So- so you do wanna fuck me?” you ask breathily, unable to resist yourself from leaning forward and stealing another kiss.

“I thought I made myself obvious,” Akaashi replies, his hands slipping under your skirt to feel the warm, bare skin of your thighs.

A soft hum leaves you, fingers tracing across his cheek before reaching out to take his glasses off, setting them down. You smile down at him hazily and Akaashi smiles back, maneuvering your body so that you’re laying down, head nestled in the cushions.

You bite your lip when he kisses down your neck, sighing softly when he undoes the buttons of your shirt, pulling it apart. Akaashi’s eyes darken when he sees the swell of your breasts in your bra, his hands reaching out to grope at them greedily. You fumble around, unclasping your bra, tossing it behind you.

“So pretty, baby,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your lips before kissing down your body.

You gasp when his tongue swirls around your nipple, squirming underneath him as his hot mouth envelops it, sucking and licking, even nipping gently making your body twitch. Back arching, you moan, fingers tugging at his soft hair. Akaashi lets out a hum, mouth opening wide to suck your breast into his mouth, groaning when he feels your hips buck underneath him.

“ Fuck ,” Akaashi hisses, his fingers rubbing at your clothed cunt, panties utterly drenched, “you’re dripping. How long have you been like this?”

You flush, looking away. Akaashi clicks his tongue, grabbing your chin to turn your gaze back onto him.

“Tell me,” he coaxes, rucking your skirt up before he tugs your panties up, watching the hard press of the fabric outline your puffy folds.

“Maybe- maybe since you opened that water bottle for me,” you mumble, blinking up at him innocently. 

Akaashi’s grip falters, his brows shooting up in surprise. Your cheeks are hot, eyes dropping to find his cock straining against his trousers, the bulge making you lick your lips.

“That long?” he whispers, leaning in.

“Mhm,” you nod, arms looping around his neck to pull him into a sloppy kiss, tongue and all.

“If I knew it was that easy, I would’ve done it the moment I saw you,” Akaashi smiles, his nose nudging against yours as he continues to rub your pussy through your panties.

“Shut up!” you laugh, pushing at his chest.

He laughs with you, smacking a quick kiss to your cheek before slinking down, pulling your thighs apart. A contented sigh leaves you when he licks up over your ruined panties, mewling softly when he pulls them to the side to get a glimpse of your slick pussy.

“Such a pretty pussy. All of you is so pretty,” he murmurs, pulling your panties off. 

You don’t miss the way he tucks them into his pocket.

Akaashi’s mouth encloses around your clit, sucking with fervor. You let out a strangled moan, fingers fisting his hair roughly, thighs twitching. 

“A- Akaashi,” you whine, hips rolling up to meet his mouth needily, “ hah- oh fuck!- ”

His nose nudges into your clit when he stops suckling on your clit, licking up a wide strip along the length of cunt, a low moan slipping out of him as he watches your cunt clench and flutter around nothing.

“Taste so fucking good,” he rasps, arms curling around your thighs, thumbing apart your folds to press his tongue in deeper, licking over the velvety flesh of your cunt.

You moan again, breath catching in your throat when his thumb finds your clit, rubbing tight circles into the sensitive bud before his tongue presses into your aching pussy, thrusting in and out of you. He makes an obscene sound and you tug at his hair roughly, pushing his face deeper into your cunt, squealing when he shakes his head, tongue swiping all over you.

“Don’t stop,” you whisper, beginning to chant drunkenly, “don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

Akaashi grunts into your pussy, spreading apart your folds against to spit on your cunt, his tongue swirling around your swollen clit before sucking it into his mouth. He suckles on it hard ; the sensation making your toes curl and eyes squeeze shut tightly. 

“Gonna cum?” he asks, a hoarse laugh leaving him when you push his head back down.

You nod rapidly, hands squeezing at your breasts, pinching and tugging at your own nipples. Akaashi slips his fingers up past your chin and your mouth opens obediently, hips rolling up as you suck on his fingers. 

A whimper escapes you when his teeth graze your clit, his tongue laving over it again as he sucks desperately, driving you further and further to the edge.

“Cum on my tongue, baby,” Akaashi whispers, “wanna watch you cum all pretty and needy.”

You don’t need any more encouragement, back arching as your body draws taut. You cum with a cry of his name, squeaking when he licks over your oversensitive pussy, thighs clamping around his head while your fingers tangle in his soft, black hair. 

Akaashi pulls away with one final suckle to your clit, peppering kisses up your body before slotting his lips over yours again. You whine softly, cupping his cheek to return his kisses feverishly, feeling the press of his clothed cock against your inner thigh.

“Take your clothes off,” you say softly, pecking his lips sweetly.

You squirm out of your skirt and top when he gets off of you, watching with hazy eyes as he pulls his shirt up over your head. The flex of his biceps has you letting out a low whine, fingers slipping between your thighs, unable to help yourself, rubbing your clit unabashedly.

Akaashi doesn’t miss the movement, shooting you a lazy grin, his hand smoothing over his trousers, squeezing at his bulge.

“Enjoying the view?” he murmurs, unbuttoning his trousers, “hm, baby?”

“‘m enjoying it a lot,” you reply airily, entranced by the motion of his hand as he grasps himself through his boxers.

Your breath catches in your throat when he pushes his boxers down, tongue feeling heavy as you watch the bob of his cock, heavy and thick. The hardened length twitches when he wraps his hand around himself, pumping his cock, pre-cum beading at the tip.

“T-taste?” you mewl, slipping off the couch and crawling towards him, “wanna taste, ‘kaashi.”

“Needy baby,” he whispers, running his fingers through your hair, brushing it out of your face.

Your eyes flutter shut when he bends, meeting his lips in a short kiss. Akaashi presses the head of his cock against your lips soon after, a moan slipping out of him when he sees the way his pre-cum spreads across your lips.

You lick your lips, mewling at the taste of his pre-cum, mouth opening wider, tongue lolling out.

“Want it,” you whisper, fingers digging into thighs, “please?”

“‘m gonna give it to you,” Akaashi rasps, grasping the base of his cock to smack the head of it against your tongue a few times. “Go ahead, pretty.”

You hum happily, mouth wrapping around his cock, hand curling around the base of it. Akaashi groans, his head tipping back as you squirm on your knees, fingers finding your slippery clit again.

“Just like that,” he whispers when you begin to bob your head, tongue swirling around the head of his cock, suckling gently.

Akaashi’s thighs twitch, the hand tangled in your hair tightening when you shuffle closer, mouth stretching open to take more of him into your mouth. 

You suck and lick, practically dripping onto the carpet beneath you as you hear the grunts and groans that leave Akaashi. He sounds pretty, the little airy gasps and stutters of his breath giving you the encouragement to try and take him deeper, your nose pressing into the black tufts of coarse hair at the base of his cock, before you pull off with watery eyes.

“I might have a hard time letting go of you after this,” Akaashi says, watching as you blink up at him with starry eyes, stroking his hand over your hair as you mouth lazily across the length of his cock. 

“So don’t,” you whisper, laving your tongue across the head of his cock, tasting his pre-cum.

You land a soft kiss to the tip, tilting your head to kiss at his heavy balls. Akaashi stops you before you can suck them into your mouth, dipping his head down to kiss you instead.

“‘m gonna cum if you do that,” he whispers against your lips.

“That’s sort of the point,” you smile, hand stroking along his length.

He snorts, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you up onto your feet. His throbbing cock presses against your stomach as you wind your arms around his neck, pulling him down for another kiss. Akaashi gropes at the fat of your ass appreciatively, both of you standing together as you makeout languidly. 

You pull away for air soon after, hands roaming across his firm chest, eyes growing hazier with the way the muscles of his abdomen flex under your touch. A glob of pre-cum beads at the tip of Akaashi’s cock and you grasp his hand, rocking up to kiss his cheek before pulling him after you.

“Wanna ride my cock?” he whispers, teeth nipping at your earlobe gently when you lead him into your bedroom.

“Y- yeah,” you reply airily, crawling up onto his lap when he sits down, his back against the headboard of your bed.

You rock your hips, grinding your cunt against his hot length, mewling softly when the tip of it nudges against your clit a few times. Akaashi catches your chin, pulling you forward for another filthy kiss, his hands smoothing up and down the length of your back.

“Sink down on it, baby.”

A soft whimper escapes you at his low voice, hands gripping his shoulders as you rise up onto your knees. Akaashi wraps his hand around the base of his cock, holding it for you. His head tips back, a guttural groan leaving him when you sink down on his cock, your nails digging into his skin.

“ Oh- ” you whine, “‘kaashi- hah- ”

“Keiji,” he replies, fingers dimpling the fat of your hips, trying to gain some semblance of control with the way your cunt’s clenching around his cock, “call me Keiji, baby.”

You let out a dazed sigh, rolling your hips and whining again, your own head tipping back.

“K- Keiji, you feel so good.”

Akaashi moans appreciatively in response to your words, landing a spank to your ass to urge you to move. You hiccup, cupping his cheeks, mouth dropping open in a silent moan as you roll your hips one more time and begin to rise and fall on his cock.

He keeps his eyes on you, letting out soft pants as you mewl and whimper out his name, hips swaying back to meet his thrusts when he begins to move his hips too.

“Good girl,” Akaashi whispers, head dipping to suck your breast into his mouth, “gripping me so tight, baby.”

“Keiji,” you mewl, dragging out his name in a needy call.

“‘m right here, pretty,” Akaashi murmurs, arms wrapping around your waist more firmly. 

You squeal when he lifts you up and begins to drop you down onto his cock himself, his face pressing into your chest, leaving desperate, heated open-mouthed kisses against your sweaty skin as he makes you take his cock.

“Oh fuck-,” you begin to gasp out, eyes squeezing shut, “ oh fuck! ”

“Take it,” Akaashi hisses, hands drifting down to grip the fat of your ass tighter, “fucking take my cock, baby.”

A surprised squeak leaves you when he lays you down, his cock pushing into you almost immediately after. Your legs wrap around his hips, hand reaching for his as he fucks his cock into you, the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoing lewdly throughout the room.

You scrabble at the bedsheets, trying to find some purchase as Akaashi drives his cock into you harder and faster.

“Gonna make me cum,” he grunts, face pressing into the crook of your neck, his body dropping to be flush against yours, hips rolling to a slow grind.

“‘m gonna cum too,” you say weakly, eyes fluttering as he mouths at your breast lazily. 

Akaashi peers down at you when he pushes himself up, bullying his cock into your cunt, balls pressed snugly against your ass.

“Can I cum inside?” he asks softly, brushing your hair out of your face.

“You’re a terrible influence,” you sigh, giving him a dazed smile as you pull him down for a kiss, “but yes, you can.”

Akaashi grins, mouth slotting over yours again, thumb rubbing at your clit. He groans when he feels you clench around him, his hips stuttering jerkily when you dig your heels into the backs of thighs, forcing him to push his cock in deeper. 

“Brat,” he hisses, head dropping forward as he lets out a low whine, cock jerking inside of you as he cums.

You squirm, back arching as his thumb rubs harder, thighs twitching as you fall apart on his cock. Akaashi pants against your chest, his eyes squeezed shut as he lets out a few more whines, thick cum filling you up.

He rolls off of you so as to not crush you with his weight, running his hand through his hair. You curl up into his side, leaning forward to kiss his jaw.

“‘m gonna go clean up,” you whisper.

Akaashi nods, patting your hip affectionately, his eyes trained on the sway of your hips as you disappear into the bathroom.

You tug on a fresh shirt and a pair of panties, crawling back into bed to find Akaashi’s pulled his boxers back up over his hips, the manga volume you had been reading last night in his hand.

“It’s good,” you inform him, pressing into his side, head resting on his shoulder as you look over the little panels of drawings.

“I’d hope so,” Akaashi says, his hand rubbing at your side absentmindedly.

“Why?” you ask, brows furrowing.

“I happen to be the editor.”

You stare at him blankly, eyes flitting from his towards the manga. “No way.” You snatch the manga from him, flipping through towards the large page. His name is there in the little lettering, plain as day.

Editing: Akaashi Keiji

He smiles at you, nuzzling into your cheek, pressing several kisses here and there.

“Well,” you say, setting the manga down and wrapping your arms around his neck, “now you have to tell me what’s to come.”

“My lips are sealed,” Akaashi replies, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“Keiji!” you whine, pouting up at him.

“Not happening, baby,” he says, shaking his head before leaning forward to kiss the pout off of your mouth.

You let out an irritated huff, pushing his head away when he tries to kiss you again.

“Look at that,” he muses, “you get all sulky like Bokuto.”

“Please don’t insult me.”