someone who likes seeing you struggle beneath him... pinning your hands above your head and watching your eyes dilate in pleasure when you realize you can't wriggle out of his grasp
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world cup au with gojo and he's a player for japan's national team but you literally dont keep up with sports or anything and you get stuck on an elevator with him and the hotel the team is in and you get to talking and he's like yeah i play football and you're like ohhh cool and then you go to swap instas and you're like wait why do you have 40 million followers??
You tell him you're too busy to snuggle on the couch and watch a movie and he pouts and whines and stomps his foot like a baby, and then he insists on holding you in his lap while you do work
18+ | suguru loves fucking your mouth with his fingers
suguru never rushes, even when his pulse is hammering.
his fingers find your chin first, tilting your face up so he can look at you properly. dark eyes trace the shape of your mouth with a patience that makes your skin burn.
"open."
you part your lips and he slides two fingers past them, pressing down on your tongue like he's testing how much it gives for him. he likes the way your lashes flutter when his fingertips press a little further.
you close your lips around them and suck, slow and earnest, eyes relaxing when his free hand comes up to cradle the side of your face.
"fuck, you're so good," he murmurs, brows drawing together.
the praise drips down your spine like honey. you pull him deeper on instinct, hollowing your cheeks, letting your tongue work against the pads of his fingers. your eyes start to burn, but you don't pull away. his gaze moves to where wetness is gathering at your lashes, and something proprietary and wanting shifts behind his expression.
he starts to move.
shallow thrusts at first, fingers sliding over your tongue and back. you go soft for him—jaw slack, breathing through your nose, eyes half-lidded and trained on his—and his mouth drops open.
he pushes into your throat.
you gag, throat fluttering around him, and the noise that leaves him is hungry. his hips shift. his hand slides from your cheek to your jaw, fingers pressing into the soft hinge so he can angle your head right where he wants it.
"there you go," he says, low and thick. "just like that. take it."
each slow drag against the back of your throat is a little deeper than the last. you don’t even try to stop the drool trailing down your chin.
you lose track of how long he keeps you there, jaw aching and throat working, the wet sounds of it filling the space between you. he hums at you like a reward every time you take him without flinching.
he pulls his fingers out slow and his hand follows, palm dragging wet across your chin and up your cheek, smearing the mess across your face like he's marking you.
he looks at you for a long, ruinous moment. you must look wrecked. you feel wrecked. but he's looking at you so adoringly that nothing else registers.
"so pretty," he whispers, mostly to himself.
wet fingertips trace the shape of your mouth, dragging across the swell of your bottom lip, pressing into the dip of your cupid's bow. his thumb hooks over your bottom teeth, pressing your tongue flat, and you let him open you up again.
he leans in close enough that his lips almost brush yours and you can't help the whine that comes out of you.
"keep it open for me."
you do. of course you do. you'd do anything he asked.
he spits into your open mouth.
it's filthy. it's so tender. it lands warm on your tongue and you moan, broken and involuntary, and before the sound is even out of you he's pushing back in, deeper this time, pressing past the resistance to fuck your mouth properly.
his other hand fists in your hair, grounding himself in you. you let him, because the sounds he's making are worth every gag and burning wave of tears.
"you have no fucking idea what you do to me."
but you do. you feel it in the tremble of his fingers. in the way they come out just for him to press his lips to your cheek, breathing hard, thumb stroking tears from under your eyes with a gentleness that doesn't match anything he just did. you whisper his name, needing more, and whatever was left of his composure empties out of him.
he kisses your lips then, tongue sliding against yours as he groans into it. his fingers close around your throat and the kiss deepens, teeth catching your bottom lip, a low sound slipping from your mouth into his. he's not done with you. not even close.
demon who tells you that he'll grant your greatest wish in exchange for your hand, but once the deal is made and you become the most beautiful woman on earth, he reveals it was your hand in marriage-
demon marriages are different, you figure out. suddenly, no human men are attractive to you, but your husband's hulking, monstrous form, with clawed hands and horned head, cock that hangs heavy again his thigh... all of him makes your body flush with heat. the things he say make you chitter like a schoolgirl and wet like a whore-
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fucking two roommates who swear they dont care about it and theres no feelings... but the quiet fucks in each of their rooms have gotten harder and louder... one keeps fingers in your mouth to keep you moaning, the other demands you reply to all his questions with "yes daddy"
one night, you're riding one on the couch, bra pulled off to the side, matching panties ripped on the floor, when the other comes home. you expect a reaction, but he just drops his things calmly. eventually, he does come over, drink in hand, and gropes a tit.
friends to lovers slowburn where you’re dating someone and they’re in love with you and then they’re dating someone and you’re in love with them and every time a breakup happens they say they wish their significant other was more [insert trait you have] and it takes you both forever to figure out you’ve been looking for each other this whole time
sukuna totally eclipses you when he catches you trying to reach something on the top shelf. he doesn’t say anything and he’s too big to be as silent as he is, and he can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips at your jolt and slight yelp at his too close proximity. he grabs whatever you’re trying to reach, places it down on the counter in front of you, but he doesn’t move.
you call out his name and his lids lower at the slight tremble of your voice. you twitch just a little, scared to look at him from over your shoulder, scared that his smile may be bloody. he hooks his sharp chin over your shoulder anyway, just to watch how you whale-eye him, like some terrified pup looking a bigger breed in the face.
he presses his entire body against yours until your hips are squished against the counter top. doesn’t say anything as he cups your flank, runs big, hot paws up and down, one cupping your chest, the other fingering your hip. he doesn’t touch you where you tell yourself you—don’t—need it most, and can’t stop yourself from squirming against him. he kisses gently at the corner of your mouth, as gentle as someone with teeth as big as your head can, and pulls away.
you hear only a slight snicker as he stalks away. only then, can you breathe—but barely so. just slightly.
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the way they whisper “I know, I know, let go” when you’re trying to tell them you’re close but you can’t get more than just a strangled gasp of their name as they thrust into you harder
when you’re whining and about how deep his cock is and each thrust is practically knocking the wind out of you yet somehow he can find more space to go even deeper plunging so deep inside of you that it really does steal your breath completely
I need the “one of us almost didn’t come back home” sex where you’re clinging to one another desperately and it’s not quite clear where you end and they begin but you’re together and not intending on parting
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