୨♡୧

-`♡´- Subby Gojo who loves getting his face slapped. He whimpers every time and gets even harder when you call him a pathetic bitch.

`♡´- Subby Gojo who opens his mouth eagerly when you spit in it. He swallows proudly with his tongue out like a total degenerate.

-`♡´- Subby Gojo who cries so easily when you edge him. The mix of praise and mean words makes him leak and sob for mommy

-`♡´- Subby Gojo who humps your leg or the vamp of your heel. He literally can't stop himself.

-`♡´- Subby Gojo who loves when you use him purely for your pleasure. He gets harder when you ignore his whimpers and just ride his face or cock until you cum.

-`♡´- Subby Gojo whose favorite is when you fuck his face with your pussy

-`♡´- Subby Gojo who'll take any opportunity to cum (with permission, ofcourse). Inside your pussy, down your throat, on your face, or on your tits. He's still hard after cause he always wants more.

-`♡´- Subby Gojo who gets embarrassingly loud when you finally let him cum. He moans "mommy" over and over while his hips stutter uncontrollably

-`♡´- Subby Gojo who gets turned on by the risk of getting caught. He’ll let you jerk him off in semi-public places and try (and fail) to stay quiet.

-`♡´- Subby Gojo who cums when you slap his cock. He even begs you to hit him harder while helplessly humping the air.

-`♡´- Subby Gojo who will beg to suck your fingers clean after you’ve been inside yourself. He treats your taste like it’s his favorite thing in the world.

-`♡´- Subby Gojo who desperately wants a collar. He wants you to pull on his leash while he eats your pussy like a good boy.

The End 🎀

His thumb finds your clit again, rubbing slow, perfect circles while his fingers keep that lazy rhythm. You’re already soaked — embarrassingly wet, like you’ve been dripping for a while.

“How long have you been…?”

“About twenty minutes,” he admits, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. “You were so fucking wet, baby. Soaked through your panties. Couldn’t help myself.”

The thought of him touching you while you slept, watching your body react, learning exactly what makes you whimper — it sends a fresh rush of heat through you.

“Xavier… feels so good—”

You’re already close, still sensitive from whatever you were dreaming about. But then his pace shifts. The lazy strokes turn purposeful, intense. He adds a third finger, stretching you open as the rhythm gets rougher, deeper.

“Oh shit— Xavier—”

“I know, baby. Just relax. Let me take care of you.”

He kicks the blankets off with his foot, cool morning air hitting your bare skin. His hand grips the thigh that’s on top and hooks it back over his hip, spreading you wide open.

“Fuck… that’s better,” he groans. “Now I can see everything. Look how pretty this pussy is, dripping all over my fingers.”

The wet, squelching sounds fill the quiet room as he pumps his fingers harder, curling them just right. Every stroke makes your breath hitch.

“Right there?” he asks, voice dropping lower, hungrier. “Yeah? You’re clenching so fucking tight around me. Gonna make a mess, aren’t you?”

“Yes—god, don’t stop—”

“Never.” His thumb presses harder on your clit, rubbing faster. “Come on, starlight. Soak my hand. You know I love when you let go for me.”

Your leg trembles where it’s draped over his hip. The pressure builds fast and sharp.

“Xavier— I’m gonna— oh fuck—”

“That’s it. Give it to me.”

His fingers curl viciously and you break — a sharp cry ripping out of you as you squirt hard, clear fluid gushing over his hand and soaking the sheets beneath you.

“Fuck yes,” Xavier groans, low and appreciative, still pumping slowly through it. “Love watching you squirt for me, baby.”

But he doesn’t stop. His fingers keep moving, dragging out every aftershock until you’re shaking and whimpering.

“Xavier— too much—”

“One more. You can give me one more,” he says, voice calm but commanding. He knows your body too well. “C’mon… drench the bed for me.”

He shifts the angle just a little and you’re gone again — gushing even harder this time, screaming his name as another wave crashes through you.

“Good girl… that’s my good fucking girl,” he murmurs, finally slowing his fingers to gentle strokes while you tremble through the aftershocks.

When he finally pulls his hand away, his fingers are drenched, strings of your release dripping down his wrist. You watch, dazed, as he brings them to his mouth and licks them clean, eyes dark with lust.

“Best fucking taste in the world,” he mutters.

Then you feel it — his cock, rock hard and pressing insistently against your ass through his sleep pants.

“Xavier…” Your hand reaches back, palming him. He’s leaking already, a wet spot spreading across the fabric.

“Can you blame me?” He grinds against your palm. “Just made you squirt twice. Got me so fucking hard.”

You don’t even think twice. You shove his pants down and he helps, kicking them off. “Then fuck me. Want your cock.”

“Greedy this early?” he chuckles, but he’s already lining up. He slides into you in one smooth thrust, both of you moaning at the tight, wet heat.

“Fuck… still so tight,” he groans, gripping your thigh tighter to keep you spread open. “Even after all that. This pussy was made for me.”

His other hand slides up to wrap loosely around your throat — not squeezing hard, just possessive — as he starts fucking you deeper, harder.

“Yes— harder—” you gasp, already climbing again even though you’re oversensitive.

“Want one more out of you,” he growls against your ear, hips snapping forward. “Want to feel you squirt on my cock this time.”

His fingers find your clit again, rubbing rough circles while his cock drags against that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. The sounds are filthy — wet slaps, your desperate moans, his low grunts.

“Xavier— gonna— fuck—”

“Do it. Squirt all over my cock, starlight. Make a mess for me.”

You shatter with a broken scream, gushing around him as he keeps pounding through it, soaking both of you and the already ruined sheets.

“Fuck— that’s it—” Xavier’s rhythm stutters. “Gonna fill you up— gonna—”

He buries himself deep with a low groan, cock pulsing as he cums hard, flooding you with hot, thick spurts.

For a long moment you both just lie there, breathing hard, bodies sticky and spent. The bed is an absolute wreck beneath you.

He presses slow, lazy kisses along your shoulder and the back of your neck, still buried inside you.

“Give me ten minutes,” he murmurs, voice warm against your skin.

You let out a tired, breathless laugh. “You’re insatiable.”

His smile curves against your neck. “Only for you.”

The End 🤍✨

Caleb who tries to go slow, who wants to make it good for you, but you feel so perfect wrapped around him that he can't control his hips. He's fucking into you with desperate, graceless thrusts, chasing the sensation.

Caleb who's babbling now, his usual control completely shattered. "So good—you're so fucking good—can't believe I'm inside you—can't believe you're letting me—"

Caleb who barely lasts ten minutes before he's coming again, but this time it's inside you. No barrier. Just his cum flooding directly into your pussy, and the sensation makes him actually sob. "Fuck—fuck yes—take it—"

Caleb who can't stop thrusting even as he comes, fucking his release deeper into you, grinding hard like he's trying to get his cum as deep as possible. "Mine—you're mine now—marked you—filled you—"

Caleb who's harder than he's ever been in his life even after just coming because he came inside you. Because his cum is inside your body. And the possessive, primal part of his brain is screaming MINE MINE MINE.

Caleb who doesn't even soften, just keeps fucking you, his previous load making obscene wet squelching sounds as he pounds into you. "Can hear how wet you are. Can hear my cum inside you. Fuck, that's so hot."

Caleb who's completely lost to it now, his hips snapping forward brutally as years of pent-up need and obsession pour out of him. "Gonna fill you so full," he pants. "Gonna pump you so full of my cum you'll be dripping for days."

Caleb who comes again barely five minutes later, adding to the mess inside you, and this time he does cry—overwhelmed by finally having you, by the sensation, by how good it feels to empty himself inside your body. "Love you—fuck, I love you so much—"

Caleb who's supposed to be this powerful Colonel, this controlled military man, but right now he's just a desperate, needy mess rutting into you like an animal. "Can't stop—I can't fucking stop—need more—need to fill you more—"

Caleb whose cum is literally leaking out of you now, running down your thighs, soaking the sheets, but he just fucks it back inside. "No—stay inside—all of it stays inside you—"

Caleb who's getting off on the filthiness of it, on how messy and wet and obscene it is. His cock is coated white with his own release, and every time he pulls out you can see the evidence of how thoroughly he's claimed you.

Caleb who flips you over onto your hands and knees because he needs deeper, needs to get his cum as far inside you as possible. "Gonna breed this pussy," he growls, and his voice has dropped to something dark and possessive. "Gonna fill you until it takes."

Caleb who fucks you brutally from behind, one hand fisted in your hair, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. The headboard is slamming against the wall but he doesn't care. Needs this. Needs you.

Caleb who comes inside you a fourth time, his hips grinding against your ass as he empties himself as deep as possible. "Yes—fuck yes—take it all—good girl—such a good girl taking my cum—"

Caleb who pulls out just to spread your ass cheeks and watch his release leak from your used, swollen pussy. "Fuck, look at you. Look at how full I've made you. So fucking perfect."

Caleb who won't move until you say it. "Say you're mine. Say this pussy belongs to me. Say I'm the only one who gets to fill you like this."

Caleb who starts thrusting again when you gasp out "yours—I'm yours—only yours—" and the satisfaction in his voice is dark and overwhelming. "That's right. Mine. My pussy to fill. My girl to breed."

Caleb who's fucking the cum deeper into you with every thrust, and there's so much now that it's coating his balls, dripping down both your thighs, absolutely soaking everything. "Love how messy you get for me. Love how well you take my cum."

Caleb who finally, finally makes you come, his fingers working your clit while he grinds deep. "Come on my cock. Want to feel this pussy squeeze me while it's full of my cum. Want to feel you milk me for more."

Caleb who roars when your orgasm hits, your pussy clamping down on him so tight he can barely move, and it triggers his own release. He comes so hard he sees white, pumping what feels like the last of his soul into you.

Caleb who collapses on top of you, both of you absolutely wrecked, covered in sweat and cum and each other. His cock is still inside you, still twitching occasionally, and he makes no move to pull out.

The End 🍎🎀

Your thighs tremble in his hands, spread wide open on either side of his head as Kakucho looks up at you like he’s about to pray.

Not to a god. To you.

"You’re so fucking beautiful down here," he murmurs, voice low and reverent, his breath fanning warm over your soaked cunt—already flushed, already dripping. His gaze doesn't waver, eyes fixed on your folds like he’s memorizing the shape of you, the way you glisten for him.

His thumbs press into the crease of your thighs, spreading you open just a little more as he leans in. He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t dive in with hunger. No, Kakucho worships. His lips ghost over your inner thighs, leaving slow, soft kisses that make your stomach flutter.

Then—closer.

His lips brush the mound of your pussy, then down further, parting your folds gently with the flat of his tongue. He breathes you in.

“You feel how warm you are?” he murmurs, tongue dragging through your slick, slow and deliberate. “You smell so good, baby.”

He licks again—long and firm, from your dripping entrance all the way up to your clit—then does it again, a little slower, savoring it.

“You taste even better,” he breathes, voice thick with need. “So fucking sweet…”

His hands tighten around your thighs as he sinks in again, burying his face between your legs like he needs to drown in you. His tongue works in lazy, deliberate strokes—up and down, then side to side, circling your clit like he’s teasing it awake. He hums softly, the sound vibrating through your core, and you gasp as your hips jerk.

He presses you back down without a word, forearms pinning your thighs open, nose nudging your mound while his tongue flattens and drags over your clit again.

His mouth is everywhere. He kisses your folds like he’s memorizing them, tongue slipping between them to taste more, more, more—each pass a slow indulgence. He doesn’t chase your orgasm. He draws it out of you with quiet patience, soaking in every shiver, every twitch, every moan that escapes your lips.

Every so often, he’ll hum low in his throat, savoring the flavor of you like fine wine, and the vibrations make your thighs twitch harder. You don’t even realize you’ve been panting his name until his tongue swirls around your clit again and you gasp—sharp, broken.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, voice deep and husky, “just like that. Say my name again, baby. Let me hear how good I’m making you feel.”

His tongue dips back down, lapping at your entrance now, drinking you in like he’s parched. Then he fucks you with it—just barely, just enough for you to feel the obscene slide, the hot, wet intrusion that has you clutching the sheets beneath you like they’ll keep you grounded.

You’re so wet, slick pooling beneath you, dripping down your thighs, smearing his chin. He’s completely soaked in you, and it only makes him hungrier. He groans deep in his chest as he pulls back just enough to watch a string of your arousal cling to his mouth.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes. “You’re leaking. Making such a mess for me.”

He doesn’t wipe his face. He leans back in, mouth open, tongue flat and slow as he licks a wide stripe up the length of your pussy. It’s filthy. It’s worshipful. 

You jerk at the contact, nerves still crackling from his tongue, your thighs instinctively trying to close in around his head. He doesn’t let them. His hands slide up your hips, firm but patient, holding you in place like he’s anchoring you to the edge of bliss itself.

“Stay open for me,” he murmurs, lips brushing slick heat. “Let me see everything.”

He lowers again, tongue working deeper now, lapping into your cunt like he’s trying to memorize how you taste. Every stroke is slow and intentional. He’s not rushing. He’s savoring. His nose presses into your mound, his mouth sealing over you, tongue dipping in and out, slow and teasing and so wet.

You can hear it. The obscene, wet sounds of him devouring you like he needs it to breathe. Your entire body trembles, stomach tight with heat, your orgasm building low and steady and thick.

Your fingers find his hair, threading through the strands as you moan his name again, more desperate this time, more pleading. He hums again, tongue curling inside you, and that little vibration makes your hips lift from the mattress.

“That’s it,” he growls softly, dragging his tongue up and wrapping his lips around your clit again. “Give it to me, sweetheart. Come for me. Let me feel it.”

His voice is so rough, so desperate. He wants it. Not for himself, but for you. He wants to feel you break on his mouth. To taste it. To hear it.

He sucks your clit gently, tongue flicking against it with a rhythm so precise, so loving, it drives you to the edge all over again. You’re shaking now, hands tugging at his hair, back arching. Every muscle in your body is tight, heat unraveling in your stomach, your thighs, your core. You can't stop it. You don't want to.

You come hard, pussy pulsing around nothing, slick gushing out of you as a sob escapes your throat. Your vision whites out for a moment, your whole body clenching and twitching beneath him as he keeps going, licking through every wave like he's addicted to the way you taste when you fall apart.

He groans into you again, and you can feel his cock rutting into the mattress, desperate for friction. But he still doesn’t stop. He keeps licking, slower now, softer, easing you through the comedown with tender strokes and quiet praise.

“God, you’re incredible,” he whispers against your cunt, kissing it gently. “So sweet. So good for me.”

You’re limp beneath him, still catching your breath, chest rising and falling in uneven little gasps. He presses one last kiss to your clit, then pulls away, chin wet, lips swollen, face flushed like he just finished a workout.

When he crawls up your body, he kisses your lips without hesitation, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. His cock is pressed against your hip now, hard and leaking and throbbing. But he doesn’t move to fuck you just yet.

“You okay?” he asks, brushing your hair back. “You still with me?”

You nod, too breathless to speak.

His hand cradles your jaw. “Can I make you feel even better?”

You don’t need to answer. The way you part your legs for him is answer enough.

He kisses you again, slow and deep and reverent.

“Thank you,” he whispers into your mouth. “For letting me love you like that.”

Then he shifts his weight, presses the thick head of his cock against your entrance, and slides in.

Your breath stutters.

You’re still slick from his tongue, still pulsing from your orgasm, and he sinks into you with almost no resistance. The stretch is deep, perfect, dragging a long moan from your lips as he pushes inch by inch, slow and careful, letting you feel every bit of him.

His forehead drops to yours, his breath hot and shaky.

“Fuck,” he groans. “You’re so tight. So warm.”

You can feel him everywhere—thick and heavy inside you, twitching slightly as your walls flutter around him. He stays still once he bottoms out, chest pressed to yours, just breathing. Just feeling.

“You’re still fluttering,” he murmurs, voice hoarse. “Still so sensitive.”

His hips roll forward, just a little, and you cry out softly. He swallows the sound with a kiss.

“Too much?” he asks, cupping your cheek.

You shake your head. You’re already addicted to the way he feels, the way he holds you like you might disappear. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer, and he takes that as his answer.

He starts to move—slow, deep thrusts that grind his cock into your softest spots. Each one knocks the air from your lungs, not rough, not fast, just devastating in how precise he is.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes, his voice caught between awe and desperation. “You feel like heaven.”

Your legs wrap around his waist, and he groans when your heels press into his lower back, urging him deeper. He gives it to you. Gives you everything.

The rhythm he finds is smooth and consuming, each thrust stealing a little more of your sanity. He fucks you like he’s trying to memorize this too—the way your cunt sucks him in, the way you gasp his name when he brushes that one perfect spot.

You whimper into his shoulder, nails scratching lightly down his back.

“That’s it,” he says again, that same worshipful tone he used when he had his mouth on you. “Take it. Let me give you everything.”

His hand snakes between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, already swollen and sensitive. He rubs slow circles, matching the pace of his hips, and your whole body clenches.

“I want you to come again,” he says, voice rough with restraint. “I want to feel you soak my cock.”

You’re already close, the overstimulation tipping you into something higher, shakier, more desperate. Your legs tighten around him. Your hips lift to meet every thrust.

And when he leans down to kiss your neck, breath hot and needy, everything inside you coils impossibly tight.

“Kakucho,” you gasp, the sound raw. “I’m—fuck—please, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he says, fucking you a little harder now, a little deeper. “Come on. Give it to me. Let me feel how much you need me.”

And you do.

You come with a cry, back arching off the bed, cunt spasming around him, soaking his cock as your orgasm rips through you. He groans at the feeling, biting back his own release as he fucks you through it, still rubbing your clit, still kissing every inch of skin he can reach.

When your body goes limp, trembling and slick with sweat, he finally lets himself go.

“Gonna fill you up,” he growls into your neck. “Wanna come inside this perfect pussy. Want you dripping with me.”

One more thrust, and he’s there. He buries himself deep and stills, cock throbbing as he spills inside you, thick and hot and endless.

You can feel it. Every pulse. Every drop.

He stays like that, breath ragged against your cheek, his arms wrapped tight around you as your bodies shake together.

And then he kisses you—soft, slow, grateful.

He stays like that, breath ragged against your cheek, his arms wrapped tight around you as your bodies shake together.

You can feel him twitching inside you, cock still nestled deep, his cum slowly starting to seep out around the base. He doesn't move. Doesn't pull out. He presses a kiss to your temple, then your cheek, then your lips—slow and warm, like he's still catching his breath between each one.

"You're perfect," he murmurs against your mouth. "I could stay inside you forever."

Your body is buzzing, boneless from release, but there's a dull, aching pulse between your legs that hasn't faded. You shift beneath him, just enough to feel his cock stir inside you again, still half-hard, still thick and warm.

He groans softly at the movement, his hips twitching. "Careful, baby. I'm still sensitive."

But you move again, slow and deliberate. His breath catches. His arms flex around you.

"You really wanna keep going?" he asks, voice husky, already sounding wrecked. "After everything I just gave you?"

You nod, lifting your hips just a little, grinding up against him. "You're still hard," you whisper. "Feels like you don't wanna stop either."

He growls low in his throat, and just like that, the restraint in his body slips again. He grabs your hips, pins them down, and thrusts—deep, slow, filthy.

"You want more?" he breathes, fucking into you with a punishing grind. "Even with my cum still dripping out of you?"

You moan, loud and helpless, and it only spurs him on. His cock is already stiffening again inside you, revived by the way your slick, overstimulated cunt clenches around him.

“Fuck,” he mutters, voice rasping as he thrusts again. “You’re insatiable.”

He sets a new rhythm, harder now, his hands gripping your hips like he needs to anchor himself. You’re soaked, sloppy from everything he’s already given you, and every time he drives into you, it’s deeper, messier, hotter.

He leans over you again, eyes dark and blown wide with heat.

“I’ll give you more,” he growls. “I’ll fuck you until you can’t take it anymore. Until I feel you come on me again.”

His pace picks up, cock dragging against your sore walls, forcing your body to respond even through the overstimulation. And the worst part is—your body loves it. You tighten around him again, crying out as that sharp, coiled pleasure builds once more, too raw and too fast.

Your nails dig into his back, not to push him away, but to ground yourself—because it’s too much. Too good. His cock feels like it’s everywhere, fucking you open again with thick, deliberate thrusts that make your vision blur. You’re still raw from the last orgasm, from how he licked you clean before filling you up, but that dull ache is burning into something sharp and hungry.

“Yeah,” he pants against your mouth, “you feel that? You’re sucking me in. So greedy for it, baby.”

He fucks into you harder now, grunting as your cunt clenches around him with each thrust. Wet sounds echo in the room, obscene and endless, the slap of skin against skin and the filthy squelch of your slick spilling around his cock with every deep grind.

Your legs tremble around his hips. You can’t stop twitching, can’t stop gasping, every stroke of his cock pressing so deep it knocks the air from your lungs.

“Kaku—please, I’m gonna—”

“I know,” he growls, voice rough and desperate. “Come again. I want to feel you soak me. Show me how much more you can take.”

He shifts his weight, changes the angle—deeper, crueler—and suddenly he’s right there, hitting that spot that makes your back arch, that makes your mouth fall open in a silent cry. He doesn’t let up. He won’t let up. His fingers return to your clit, rubbing tight circles, wet and messy and perfect.

Your orgasm hits like a wave, brutal and hot, your body locking up around him, cunt clenching hard enough to drag a feral moan from his throat.

“Fuck, that’s it—fuck, baby—”

He curses again as you spasm around him, as your slick gushes out around his cock. He’s still fucking into you, erratic now, rougher, desperate to chase his own release as your body trembles beneath him.

“You want it inside again?” he grits out, pace stuttering. “Want me to come even deeper this time?”

You nod wildly, whining his name, and that’s all it takes.

His thrusts snap deep once—twice—and then he’s spilling inside you again with a raw groan, cock throbbing as he empties himself into your already soaked cunt. He doesn’t stop. He stays buried to the hilt, grinding in shallow, shaky thrusts to milk every last drop, your walls still fluttering from aftershocks.

He leans in, kisses you hard and messy, full of teeth and breathless moans, swallowing the tiny noises you can’t hold in.

When he finally stills, his cock is twitching inside you, your pussy a wet, overstimulated mess around him. You’re leaking both your releases, dripping onto the sheets, both of you panting like you ran miles.

But he doesn’t pull out. He keeps his hips pressed flush to yours, keeps his body wrapped around you like you’re something sacred.

"Still wanna stay inside you," he whispers, voice hoarse. "Don’t think I’ll ever get enough of this pussy."

And from the way you cling to him, legs tangled, cunt still pulsing softly around his cock, you don’t want him to leave either.

His other hand slides down between your thighs again, fingers slipping through the mess he made. “Still fluttering,” he murmurs, watching your hole clench around nothing. “Think you’re ready to take me now?”

You whimper—something weak and wordless—as his fingers dip between your folds again, collecting slick from where it’s still dripping down your thighs. You’re raw. Still fluttering. Over-sensitive and aching. But you nod anyway.

You don’t care how full you feel—you need him now. Need more. Deeper. Thicker. Him.

Kenma makes a soft sound—more breath than voice—as he drags his slick-coated fingers up to your clit, brushing it in a circle that makes your hips jerk and your whole body shudder.

“Still twitching,” he murmurs, like he’s just taking note. “Didn’t even calm down yet.”

You shake your head. It’s too much. It’s not enough. Your thighs are trembling, muscles already locked tight from cumming too hard, and your pussy clenches helplessly every time he touches you—still fluttering around nothing, begging for more.

He exhales through his nose—slow, steady—then slips a hand under your thigh.

“Turn around,” he says, calm as ever. “Wanna see your face this time.”

You barely register the words before he’s manhandling you—lifting you up just enough to slide you off, only to settle you back down facing him. Your legs straddle his hips now, trembling against the arms of the chair, your hands braced on his shoulders for balance. His hands settle on your hips, holding you still for a moment as he looks at you—really looks at you—with that same unreadable calm he always wears. But his gaze is heavy now. Lidded. Feral under the surface.

“There,” he murmurs, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Better.”

Then he leans in and kisses you.

Not rushed. Not rough. Just full lips pressing into yours. Slow, deep, warm. He kisses you like he has all the time in the world, like you aren’t shaking in his lap or soaked through from your own orgasm. His mouth moves over yours, coaxing it open, tongue teasing yours with a quiet sort of hunger.

It’s dizzying—soft and filthy all at once—the way he holds your hips and kisses you like he’s claiming every inch.

You whimper against his mouth, thighs trembling, and he pulls back just enough to breathe the words against your lips:

“Gonna fuck you just like this.”

He shifts under you, the leather seat creaking with the movement, and you feel the blunt head of his cock brush against your entrance. Thick. Warm. Heavy.

You gasp when he doesn’t push in right away. Just lets it sit there, nudging your entrance, teasing your already-used hole with the weight of him.

“Feel that?” he murmurs, voice low in your ear. “Not even inside yet and you’re already shaking.”

You’re past the point of embarrassment. You can’t even form words anymore. Your hips move on their own, trying to take him in, but your legs are jelly. You’re too sensitive to do anything but tremble in his lap.

He grips your hips and tilts you forward just slightly—just enough to line himself up—then sinks in, inch by inch, until your soaked cunt swallows him whole.

And you fall apart.

Your body arches tight, your mouth drops open in a silent sob, and your walls clamp down so hard it nearly pushes him out. You feel every fucking inch of him—hot, thick, stretching you to your limit—and it’s too much. Too deep. Too full. You can’t breathe.

“Oh my god—Kenma—”

“Shh,” he soothes, dragging one hand up your back. “Just take it.”

Kenma kisses your neck—soft, almost sweet—then grips your hips and starts to thrust.

Short and slow at first. Lazy little rolls of his hips, dragging his cock along every spot that makes your legs twitch. You’re still seated on his lap, so every thrust grinds right into that sensitive spot inside you. Every time he pulls back, your cunt flutters like it’s trying to hold him in.

“Fuck, you’re sucking me in,” he mutters. “Can’t even pull out.”

His hands slide to your ass, spreading you a little wider as he fucks up into you with more force. The chair creaks under the weight. Your moans get higher. Every time he bottoms out, your walls spasm—wet, greedy, still so fucking overstimulated.

And he loves it.

Your walls pulse around him like a response, fluttering helplessly. You can feel how slick it is, the way your juices squelch around his cock every time he moves even slightly. The chair squeaks beneath you both, your bodies damp with sweat and sex.

He moves again. Not fast—just deep. Slow. Grinding.

“Too much?” he asks, fingers digging into your waist like he already knows the answer.

You don’t answer. Can’t. You just moan. Cry. Shake.

Kenma laughs softly under his breath.

“Thought so.”

He pulls back and fucks in again—harder this time, sharp enough to make your breath hitch. Your hands scramble for purchase, grabbing the chair, his hoodie, anything. Your thighs clench around his, but your whole body’s useless now. All you can do is take it.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he whispers. “All full. Just like you wanted.”

You nod. Desperate. Eyes wet, jaw slack. He’s so deep you feel him in your stomach. He shifts the angle, and the second he hits that spot—

You cry out, loud now, nails digging into the armrest, tears brimming again from the overstimulation.

“C-Close again,” you gasp, back arching.

And this time?

He doesn’t stop.

He grits his teeth—just slightly—and starts fucking up into you harder, holding you in place like a toy. You’re just there to take it now. One hand on your stomach, the other pulling your hips back against his cock, forcing every stroke deep.

“Cum again,” he says, low and sharp. “Do it while I’m inside you.”

And you do.

You cum with a full-body jerk, walls clenching down so tight he groans against your ear. Wet. Loud. Gushing around him. Your pussy milks his cock like it doesn’t want to let go, and he finally loses rhythm, hips stuttering as he buries himself to the hilt.

And Kenma doesn’t stop.

He holds you through it—arms tight around your waist, fucking you through every clench and twitch, every tear-streaked sob.

“Good girl,” he murmurs against your temple. “You take it so fucking well when you’re falling apart.”

Your legs don’t work anymore. Your whole body’s shaking. All you can do is hold on while he uses your cunt like it’s his—stretching you wider, fucking you deeper, until your brain’s nothing but static and sensation and the sound of slick, filthy skin.

“Shit—fuck—fuck—”

Kenma cums hard inside you, cock twitching deep, filling you with thick warmth as you pulse around him.

You feel it in the way his entire body tenses beneath you—thighs locking, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. His cock throbs deep inside you, twitching with every spurt of thick, hot cum that floods your cunt in waves. So much. So deep.

He buries himself to the hilt, grinding in just slightly as he cums—like he’s trying to make sure you take every last drop.

And you feel it.

Every pulse of his cock sends another flood of warmth inside you, thick and messy, forcing your oversensitive walls to flutter around him helplessly. You gasp—soft, broken—when the first wave hits you, and your cunt clenches around him like it’s trying to hold him in.

He groans, low and guttural, forehead pressed against your shoulder, and you feel his breath—hot and ragged—ghost across your skin.

“Fucking hell,” he whispers, voice cracking.

He doesn’t move. Just keeps you pinned there in his lap, stretched wide around his cock as it jerks and pulses and spills everything he’s got into you. His hands slide up your sides—slow, trembling—palms spreading wide across your back like he doesn’t want to let you go. Like he can’t.

His thighs twitch beneath you. Your legs are useless, your muscles jelly. All you can do is sit there, open and spent, leaking around him while your body spasms with aftershocks.

And still—he stays inside you.

No pulling out. No rush. Just the sound of both your breaths—shaky, uneven—and the soft squelch of your bodies pressed together, his cum slowly beginning to seep out and drip down your thighs.

Kenma finally lifts his head, lips brushing your neck as he exhales. He’s flushed. Damp with sweat. Eyes half-lidded, gaze glazed over with that slow, satisfied haze.

“Shit,” he breathes again, softer now. “You feel so fucking good.”

He shifts—just barely—and you both hiss from the sensitivity. His cock twitches inside you again, and you swear you feel more of his cum trickle out, thick and warm against your overstimulated skin.

“Stay like this for a second,” he murmurs, arms tightening around your waist. “Don’t move yet.”

You couldn’t if you tried.

The End 💗

The blindfold’s still hanging loose around his neck, half-forgotten in his desperation.

He’s flushed pink all the way up to his ears, lashes fluttering with every shaky breath as you keep your hand around his throat. Not squeezing—just resting there. Just enough to remind him who’s in control.

“Please,” he pants, hips twitching up from the bed, desperate for friction. “Been good. Haven’t touched myself in days, I swear.”

“Didn’t ask,” you say, voice calm. Cruel. He whines.

Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer in the world, reduced to a squirming, needy mess under you. Sprawled across the sheets like a dream undone. Shirt half off. Sweat dampening his hair. Cock flushed and leaking against his stomach. You’ve edged him twice already—and he’s trembling.

“Thought you liked being in control,” you murmur at his ear.

He chokes on a laugh, breathless. “I do. Just... not right now. Not with you.”

His voice drops, rasps. “Want you to ruin me.”

You do.

You slide down between his legs, licking a slow stripe up the underside of his cock. He gasps, thighs twitching, one hand fisting the sheets.

“Ah—f-fuck—” He arches when you take the head into your mouth, tongue swirling, watching him through your lashes. That cocky grin he always wears? Gone. Replaced by something real. Raw. His bottom lip trembles. He’s biting it, trying not to cry out.

You pull off with a soft pop—and he actually whimpers.

“Satoru,” you say softly, “use your words.”

“I wanna come,” he whines, hips bucking. “Please. Feels so full, I can’t—just let me—please, please, I’ll do anything—”

You reach up and slap his thigh lightly. He moans.

“Stay still.”

He nods quickly. “Yes. Yes. I’ll be good. I’ll behave. Just please—”

When you finally sink down on his cock, slow and tight and hot, his whole body shudders. His fingers grip your hips like he’ll fall apart if he doesn’t hold on.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. You feel so good.”

You ride him with a slow, deliberate grind, watching him come undone. His head’s thrown back, throat bared, sweat glistening on his chest. The kinds of sounds you never thought you’d hear from him—soft, needy, desperate—fill the room.

You drag your nails down his chest, watching his muscles twitch beneath your touch. His cock twitches too, still sheathed inside you, unbelievably hard despite everything you’ve already done to him. He’s sensitive—you can tell. Every grind of your hips makes his mouth fall open like he’s about to cry.

“S-So close,” he breathes. Eyes wet. Voice catching. “Please let me come. I’ll do anything.”

Your hips roll slower. Deeper.

“Anything?” you murmur, trailing your fingers up his chest, wrapping around his throat again.

He nods so fast it's pathetic. His hands tremble on your thighs. “Yes. Fuck, yes. Just wanna come inside you. Been dreaming about it. Waking up hard and aching and thinking about your cunt. Please, let me fill you up, let me make you feel it—”

You clench around him.

He gasps, loud, like the air got knocked from his lungs.

“God, you're so tight,” he moans. “You're gonna make me—fuck, I can't—”

“You’re not allowed to come until I say so,” you say, dragging your hips back with cruel slowness. “You want to fill me up? Beg for it.”

“Please. Please, baby, let me come in you. Let me fuck it deep, let me feel you milk me dry. You’re so warm, so wet, you’re perfect, I’ll be good—I'll behave, I swear, I’ll be such a good boy for you—”

You cut him off by grinding hard against him, your clit catching on the ridge of his pelvis, and he cries out. Loud. Uncontrolled. Desperate.

"You sound so pretty when you're desperate," you whisper, leaning down to press your mouth to his ear. "So much for the strongest sorcerer."

He whimpers.

One of his hands flies up to your waist, the other fisting the sheets. He’s trying to hold back. You can feel it in the way he trembles under you. His cock throbs inside you, his body stiff with tension as he fights not to spill.

“Please,” he whispers again, raw and reverent. “Let me come for you. Let me fill you up. Let me make a mess—”

You pull him into a kiss just as you grind down hard again, and his mouth opens helplessly against yours. You can feel it in the way he trembles under you. His cock throbs inside you. His whole body tense, fighting not to spill.

You don’t let him finish.

You swallow the rest of his begging with your tongue, kissing him hard—wet and messy, biting his bottom lip until he moans into your mouth. His hands scramble at your hips, fingertips pressing into the flesh like he’s trying to ground himself, like he’s going to float out of his body if he doesn’t anchor himself to you.

And you’re not even close to done with him.

You roll your hips again, deeper this time, deliberately grinding your clit against the base of his cock. The friction sparks through your body like electricity. You shiver. He breaks.

“F-fuck,” he sobs, thighs twitching beneath you. “Please—I can’t—I’m so close, I’m right there, please let me come—”

You pull back just enough to look at him.

He’s a fucking mess.

Hair plastered to his forehead, mouth swollen from your kiss, sweat beading down his neck. His eyes are glassy, barely focused, lashes fluttering as he looks up at you like you hung the stars. You drag your hips forward again, slow and filthy, and watch his jaw drop, a high, helpless moan spilling out of him.

"You gonna cry for me, Satoru?" you whisper, voice like velvet wrapped around a knife. "Is that how bad you wanna come?"

His head tips back, exposing the long line of his throat. “Yes. Yes, I’ll cry—I'll do anything—just don’t stop, please don’t stop—”

He’s babbling now. Barely coherent. You can feel the way he’s pulsing inside you, how close he is to coming just from being inside you, no hands, no rhythm—just you using him like a toy.

“You sound pathetic,” you murmur, grinding down hard, pinning his hips to the bed when they jerk up. “And you love it, don’t you?”

His hands fist the sheets again, white-knuckled.

“I do,” he chokes. “I fucking do, just—please, let me come, let me fill you up, I need to feel it, I need to feel you take it—”

You don’t answer.

You ride him harder.

Your own breath starts to hitch now, the drag of him so deep inside you, hitting perfectly with every roll of your hips. Your clit throbs against his skin, slick dripping down where your bodies meet, making every grind messier, wetter. The sound of it—skin on skin, your cunt squelching around his cock—fills the room, filthy and raw.

He’s shaking under you. His heels are digging into the mattress. His chest rises and falls in shallow, panicked bursts.

“I’m gonna come,” he gasps, voice cracking. “Please, I need—”

“Not yet,” 

He lets out something between a sob and a moan, head tossing side to side.

“I can’t—I can’t hold it—fuck, fuck, you’re gonna make me—”

“Then take it,” you say, leaning in to kiss him again, slow and deep. “Come for me, baby. Ruin yourself for me.”

He shatters.

The second you give him permission, his body tenses under you, his back arching as he cries out your name—loud, needy, broken. His cock jerks inside you, thick spurts of cum spilling deep, and he clings to you like it’s the only thing keeping him from floating away.

You keep moving.

Keep grinding through it as he trembles and moans, oversensitive and twitching, cock still pulsing helplessly inside you. You don’t stop until his voice goes hoarse, until his hands go limp, until he’s gasping like he can’t catch his breath.

And even then, you’re not done.

Not until your cunt’s full of his cum, dripping out of you.