欲望

The stadium lights were still buzzing overhead like distant thunder when you slipped into the private press room Sae had specifically requested. The match had been brutal—Sae dismantling the opposition with that cold, surgical precision of his, every pass a scalpel, every goal a statement. Your legs were still shaky from the press box, notebook clutched tight in your clammy hands, recorder already rolling in your pocket. You were a professional sports journalist, damn it. But with Sae Itoshi, professionalism always cracked the second the door locked behind you.

He was waiting, jersey half-unzipped, sweat still glistening on the sharp lines of his abs and the defined V that disappeared into his shorts. Those teal eyes locked onto you instantly—arrogant, hungry, bored with everything except the way your skirt hugged your hips.

“Lock it,” he ordered, voice low and flat, already palming the growing bulge in his shorts.

You clicked the door shut, heart hammering. “Sae, the interview—post-match reactions, tactical breakdown, your thoughts on—”

He was on you before you finished the sentence. One large hand fisted the front of your blouse, yanking you forward until your back hit the cool wall. His mouth crashed against yours, all teeth and dominance, tongue forcing its way in like he owned every inch of you. Because he did. You were his fuck buddy, his dirty little secret after every big game. The mic in your hand nearly slipped as his other palm shoved your skirt up, fingers hooking into your already soaked panties and ripping them aside.

“Keep talking, babe,” he grunted against your lips, biting down hard enough to draw a whimper. “Ask your fucking questions while I ruin this sloppy cunt.”

Two thick fingers plunged into you without warning, curling viciously against that spongy spot that made your knees buckle. You gasped, back arching, notebook pages crinkling against his chest. “Ah—Sae! The… the team’s formation today—fuck—how much did the midfield rotation contribute to the—ngh!”

He laughed, low and cruel, scissoring his fingers deeper while his thumb ground circles into your swollen clit. Your pussy clenched greedily around him, slick noises already echoing obscenely in the quiet room. “Rotation? I carried those idiots. Ask better questions.” He yanked his fingers out, spun you around, and bent you over the small interview table in one fluid motion. Papers scattered. Your recorder clattered but kept rolling.

Sae shoved your skirt up to your waist, kicked your legs apart, and freed his cock. Long, veiny, flushed angry red at the tip with that slight upward curve that always destroyed you. He rubbed the fat head along your dripping slit, teasing your entrance until you were pushing back desperately.

“Next question,” he demanded, voice husky.

You tried. God, you tried. “H-how… how do you feel about the critics saying your playstyle is too individualistic—Sae, oh my fucking god—!”

He slammed in to the hilt in one brutal thrust. Your walls stretched obscenely around his girth, that curve dragging right against your g-spot. A broken moan tore from your throat as your cheek pressed into the table, drool already leaking from the corner of your mouth. Sae’s hips snapped forward again, heavy balls smacking your clit with wet pap-pap-paps that filled the room.

“Too individualistic?” He laughed darkly, one hand fisting your hair to yank your head back while the other gripped your hip hard enough to bruise. “They can choke on it. Just like you’re choking on my cock right now.” Each word was punctuated by a savage thrust, pounding you into the table so hard the legs scraped against the floor. Your pussy made filthy, squelching sounds around him, cream coating his shaft and dripping down your thighs.

“Mngh—! Sae— the… the upcoming match against—ahh, fuck, right there—!” Your reporter voice cracked into a pornographic whine as he angled his hips and drilled that perfect spot over and over. Your tongue lolled, eyes rolling back. He was so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach.

“Yeah? Right there?” Sae growled, leaning over you, sweat-slick chest pressing to your back. His teeth sank into your shoulder through your blouse as he rutted harder, hips moving with that terrifying athlete stamina—relentless, precise, merciless. “Keep asking, baby. Or are you too busy getting your brains fucked out?”

You could barely form words. “T-tell the fans… what’s your… motivation—haaah— for the next season—Sae, I’m gonna—!”

He pulled out suddenly, leaving you clenching around nothing, whining pathetically. Before you could protest, he flipped you onto your back on the table, shoved your knees to your chest, and buried himself back inside with a wet slap. The new angle had his cockhead kissing your cervix with every thrust, that lewd curve scraping every sensitive ridge inside you.

“Motivation?” He smirked down at your wrecked face—mascara running, lips swollen, eyes glassy. “Fucking you stupid after every win. Watching you try to act professional while your cunt milks me dry.” His pace turned punishing, hips snapping like a machine. The table creaked dangerously. Your tits bounced with every impact, nipples hard and visible through your ruined blouse.

You reached for your notebook with trembling fingers, trying to scribble something—anything—but Sae snatched it, tossed it aside, and pinned both your wrists above your head with one hand. “No notes. Just take it.” He drove deeper, grinding his pelvis against your clit on every downstroke. The wet slap of skin on skin was deafening. Your pussy fluttered wildly around him, that telltale coil tightening fast.

“Cum for me, babe,” he snarled, voice dropping into that signature cold rasp. “Cum on the cock that just won the match.”

You shattered. A scream ripped out of you as your orgasm crashed through, walls clamping down like a vice, gushing around his pistoning length. Juices squirted messily between you, soaking his abs and the table. Sae didn’t slow. If anything, he fucked you harder through it, chasing his own release with deep, punishing strokes that made your eyes cross.

“Fuck— so tight. Greedy little pussy.” His free hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough to make stars burst behind your eyes. “Gonna fill you up. Knock you up right here so you have to interview the next game with my child in your belly.”

“Sae— please— cum inside, please—!” you babbled, voice hoarse, legs shaking violently around his waist.

With a guttural groan, he slammed in to the hilt and stayed there. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded your spasming cunt, pulse after pulse painting your insides white. He kept grinding through it, making sure every drop stayed deep, his cock twitching against your cervix. Some of it leaked out anyway, creamy and obscene, sliding down your ass to puddle on the table.

He stayed buried inside you for long moments, catching his breath, hips giving lazy little thrusts to push his load even deeper. Finally, he pulled out with a wet pop, watching with dark satisfaction as more cum bubbled from your ruined hole.

You lay there panting, utterly wrecked, legs spread, blouse torn open, skirt bunched uselessly around your waist. The recorder was still going somewhere on the floor.

Sae tucked himself away, then leaned down, two fingers scooping up some of the leaking mess and shoving it back into your pussy. “Clean yourself up. Next question,” he said with a smirk, voice perfectly calm again, like he hadn’t just fucked you senseless. “And make it a good one. I’m not done with you tonight.”

The argument started over something stupid—really, embarrassingly stupid.

You’d been teasing Gojo all day about his blindfold again, calling it his “dumb little security blanket” after he’d shown up late to your date because he’d been “training” (which you both knew meant napping in the sun like a spoiled cat). He’d fired back with that signature smug grin, saying you were just jealous he looked better in white than you did. One thing led to another, voices rising in your shared apartment, until you were both yelling about who left the dishes in the sink for the third time this week and whose turn it was to do laundry.

It was dumb. Childish. But Gojo’s ego was a fragile, towering thing, and you weren’t backing down either.

“You always do this!” you snapped, arms crossed tight over your chest. “Act like the strongest, like nothing can touch you, but god forbid I point out you’re a slob sometimes—”

Gojo’s eyes narrowed behind the blindfold, that bright blue gaze you could feel burning even when hidden. He stepped closer, tall frame looming, the air around him crackling with cursed energy he wasn’t even bothering to hide. “And you always push,” he said, voice low and dangerous, that playful menace slipping into something sharper. “Thinking you can mouth off to me like I won’t do anything about it.”

The tension snapped.

One second you were glaring at each other across the living room. The next, Gojo had you pinned against the wall, his large hand wrapped around your throat—not squeezing, not yet, just holding you there while his other hand yanked your shirt up roughly. His mouth crashed into yours, all teeth and dominance, biting your lower lip hard enough to make you gasp.

“You wanna keep running that pretty mouth?” he growled against your lips, voice laced with that signature Gojo arrogance even when he was pissed. “Fine. I’ll fuck the attitude right out of you.”

You tried to shove at his chest—half-hearted, because heat was already pooling low in your belly—but he caught your wrists in one hand and slammed them above your head. The blindfold was still on, but you could see the feral tilt of his smirk. Menace radiated off him like static before a storm.

He didn’t bother with gentleness. Gojo ripped your shorts and panties down in one harsh tug, the fabric tearing slightly at the seam. You barely had time to kick them off before his fingers were between your legs, two long digits shoving inside you without warning. You were already wet—traitor body—but the sudden stretch made you cry out.

“Already soaked,” he mocked, curling his fingers deep and mean, scissoring them roughly. “Fighting with me gets you this worked up? Pathetic.”

“Fuck you,” you hissed, but it came out breathy, shaky.

His laugh was dark. “Oh, you will.”

He spun you around suddenly, pressing your chest against the wall, your cheek smushed to the cool surface. You heard the metallic clink of his belt, the rustle of his pants being shoved down just enough. His cock—hot, heavy, and already leaking—slapped against your ass before he lined up and thrust in to the hilt in one brutal stroke.

You screamed, the sound raw as he split you open. No warmup. No mercy. Just the thick, veiny length of him buried so deep your toes curled and your vision whited out for a second.

“Shit—Satoru—!”

“Too much?” he taunted, pulling out almost all the way only to slam back in harder. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed obscenely. “You can take it. You always do. This pussy was made for me to ruin.”

He set a punishing pace immediately, hips snapping forward with enough force to jolt your whole body against the wall. Each thrust was angry, possessive, the head of his cock battering that spongy spot inside you that made your knees buckle. His hand stayed locked around your wrists, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise.

You could feel every inch of him—thick, hot, dragging along your walls with vicious precision. He angled his hips to hit deeper, grinding against your cervix on every inward stroke until tears pricked your eyes.

“Say it,” he snarled, teeth scraping down the side of your neck before he bit down hard. “Tell me you’re sorry for being a brat.”

You bit your lip, stubborn even as pleasure ripped through you. “N-no—”

Gojo’s hand cracked across your ass, the sharp smack making you clench around him. He groaned, low and guttural. “Wrong answer.”

He pulled out suddenly, making you whimper at the empty feeling, only to manhandle you onto the couch. He bent you over the armrest, ass up, face down. Then he was back inside you before you could catch your breath, fucking you even harder. The new angle let him reach impossibly deeper. His balls slapped against your clit with every thrust, the wet sounds filthy and loud.

Your brain started melting.

Gojo was relentless—long, powerful strokes that left you gasping and drooling onto the cushions. He reached around to rub harsh circles on your clit, fingers slick with your juices.

“Look at you,” he laughed, voice rough with exertion and lust. “Getting all dumb on my cock already. Where’s that big mouth now, huh?”

You could only moan, high and broken, pushing back against him desperately. The anger was still there, fueling every brutal snap of his hips, but it mixed with something darker—pure, unfiltered need. He was claiming you, reminding you exactly who you belonged to.

He leaned over you, chest pressed to your back, his white hair tickling your shoulder as he whispered hotly in your ear. “You’re mine. Say it.”

“Yours—fuck, Satoru, I’m yours—”

“Not good enough.” He slowed his thrusts to deep, punishing grinds, rolling his hips in circles that made you see stars. “Apologize properly.”

Your mind was fogging over, thoughts scattering with every drag of his cock. The pleasure was overwhelming, bordering on too much. You were clenching around him rhythmically, thighs shaking, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered, voice cracking. “I’m sorry, Satoru—please—”

“Please what?” He bit your shoulder, sucking a dark mark into your skin.

“Please… fuck me harder. I’m sorry for being a brat. I won’t—ahh—I won’t talk back again—”

Gojo’s control snapped further. He straightened up, grabbed both your hips, and railed you like he was trying to break you. The couch creaked dangerously under the force. You were sobbing now, pleasure so intense it hurt, your pussy fluttering wildly around his thick length.

“That’s it,” he growled, voice strained. “Get dumb for me. Cream on my cock like the needy little slut you are.”

You came hard—shattering, vision going black at the edges, a gush of wetness soaking his cock and dripping down your thighs. Your walls spasmed violently, milking him, but he didn’t stop. He fucked you through it, prolonging the orgasm until you were shaking and oversensitive.

Only then did he pull out, flip you onto your back on the couch, and push your legs up to your chest. He slid back in with a wet squelch, the new position letting him watch your face as he destroyed you.

His eyes—blindfold long discarded—were glowing that electric blue, pupils blown wide with lust and lingering anger. Sweat glistened on his perfect abs, his hair a mess. He looked feral. Menacing. Beautiful.

“You gonna cum again?” he demanded, thumb pressing on your swollen clit. “Gonna soak me while you apologize like a good girl?”

You nodded frantically, already climbing toward another peak. “Sorry—sorry, Satoru—I’m so sorry—please don’t stop—”

He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a messy, dominating kiss. His tongue fucked into your mouth in time with his cock, swallowing every moan and whimper.

You came again, harder this time, screaming into his mouth. The intensity made your whole body seize up. Gojo groaned, hips stuttering as your pussy clamped down on him like a vice.

“Fuck—good girl,” he rasped, finally letting himself go. He buried himself to the hilt and came deep inside you, thick ropes of cum flooding your insides, so much it leaked out around his cock as he kept shallowly thrusting through his orgasm.

For a long moment, the only sounds were your ragged breathing and the wet drip of his release onto the couch.

Gojo stayed buried inside you, forehead pressed to yours, his anger finally ebbing into something softer—but still edged with that possessive menace.

“You’re still mine,” he murmured, voice low. “Even when you piss me off.”

You nodded weakly, brain fuzzy and body limp. “Yours… I’m sorry, baby.”

He kissed you slower this time, almost tender, though his hips gave one last lazy grind that made you whimper.

“Damn right you are.” A wicked smirk curved his lips. “And we’re not done. I’ve got all night to make sure that apology really sinks in.”

You’ve always had a type: older guys. The ones with steady careers, calloused hands from real work, deep voices that rumbled with confidence, and the patience to tease you for hours before giving you what you wanted. They knew how to take control, how to make you feel small and desired in that safe, predictable way. Older guys didn’t fumble. They didn’t rush. They fucked like they had all the time in the world because they’d already lived enough of it.

But Megumi Fushiguro was the opposite of that type in every way that mattered.

He was younger than the men you usually chased—early twenties, sharp-featured, quiet, and intense in that brooding, shadows-under-his-eyes kind of way. You met him through mutual friends in the city, some late-night gathering after a long week. He didn’t say much at first. Just watched you from across the room with those dark blue eyes that seemed to catalog every movement you made. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost hesitant, but there was something underneath it. Something hungry.

You brushed it off. Cute kid, you thought. Not your usual.

But he kept showing up in your orbit. Texts at odd hours. “Are you free?” Always polite, always direct. You told yourself it was harmless flirting. Until one night you let him come over.

The door barely clicked shut behind him before Megumi was on you.

His hands—strong, veined from years of training—grabbed your waist and pulled you flush against him. No preamble. No awkward small talk. Just his mouth crashing into yours like he’d been starving for it. His tongue pushed past your lips immediately, deep and demanding, tasting you like he wanted to devour every sound you made. You gasped into the kiss, surprised by the force behind it. This wasn’t the shy boy from the party. This was someone who had been holding back for weeks.

“Been thinking about you,” he muttered against your mouth, voice rough. “Every fucking night.”

You tried to take control, pushing him back toward the couch like you did with older men who liked being guided. But Megumi didn’t budge. Instead, he spun you around and pressed you against the wall, his body pinning yours with surprising strength. His hips rolled forward, letting you feel how hard he already was through his pants—thick, hot, insistent.

“You always go for older guys, right?” he breathed against your neck, teeth grazing your skin. “I know. I heard you talking about it. But they don’t know you like I do. They can’t.”

His hand slid up your shirt, palming your breast roughly, thumb flicking over your nipple until it hardened. You arched into him, a sharp moan escaping. He was so eager, so completely focused on you. Like you were the only thing in his world. His other hand dipped between your thighs, rubbing you through your pants with firm, practiced strokes that made your knees buckle.

“Megumi—fuck—”

He didn’t let you finish. He dropped to his knees right there in the hallway, yanking your pants and panties down in one rough motion. No teasing. No slow build. His mouth was on your pussy instantly, tongue dragging through your folds like he was desperate for your taste. He groaned loudly against you, the vibration shooting straight to your core.

“Shit, you’re so wet already,” he mumbled, sucking your clit into his mouth. Two fingers pushed inside you without warning, curling hard against that spot that made your vision blur. He fucked you with them fast, relentless, his tongue flicking in perfect rhythm. You grabbed his hair, hips bucking against his face, but he only pressed harder, devouring you like a man possessed.

You came embarrassingly fast—shaking, thighs clamping around his head, a broken cry tearing from your throat. But Megumi didn’t stop. He kept licking you through it, fingers pumping slower but deeper, drawing out every aftershock until you were whimpering.

When he finally stood, his chin was slick with you. His eyes were wild, pupils blown wide. He looked almost feral.

“Bedroom,” he growled.

He didn’t wait for you to lead. He lifted you like you weighed nothing, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you down the hall. His cock pressed against your bare pussy with every step, the friction making you grind against him shamelessly.

In your room, he dropped you on the bed and stripped quickly. His body was lean but cut—defined abs, strong arms, and a cock that made your mouth water. Long, thick, flushed dark at the tip and already leaking precum. He stroked himself once, eyes locked on you as you spread your legs for him.

“You’re mine tonight,” he said, crawling over you. “Not some old guy who doesn’t even know how to make you scream.”

He pushed inside you in one deep thrust, bottoming out so hard your back arched off the bed. The stretch burned in the best way—full, overwhelming. Megumi’s head fell to your shoulder with a guttural moan, hips stuttering like he was fighting not to cum immediately.

“Fuck… so tight. So perfect.”

Then he started moving.

There was nothing slow or measured about it. Megumi fucked you like he’d been waiting his entire life for this moment. Hard, fast snaps of his hips that slammed the headboard against the wall. Every thrust dragged against your g-spot, making you see stars. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you wider as he drove deeper, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room.

“Look at me,” he demanded, voice strained. You did. His face was flushed, sweat beading on his forehead, dark hair sticking to his skin. Those intense eyes never left yours as he fucked you senseless.

“You feel that?” he panted, grinding deep, rolling his hips so his pelvis rubbed your clit. “That’s what a younger guy who’s obsessed with you can do. I’ve jerked off thinking about this pussy every night. Imagined how you’d sound when I filled you up.”

You moaned loudly, nails raking down his back. He hissed in pleasure, pace somehow increasing. The bed creaked dangerously. He leaned down, sucking marks into your neck, your breasts, biting down on your nipple until you cried out.

“Megumi—oh god, slower—”

“No.” He thrust harder, punishing. “You’re going to take everything I give you. I’m not like them. I don’t get tired. I can fuck you for hours.”

And he did.

He flipped you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up and slamming back in from behind. The new angle made him hit even deeper. One hand fisted your hair, the other rubbed your clit in tight circles. You came again, clenching around his cock so hard he groaned your name like a prayer.

But he kept going.

He pulled out only to flip you again, this time sitting back against the headboard and dragging you onto his lap. You sank down on his cock, taking every inch as he guided your hips. His hands gripped your ass, helping you ride him—fast, sloppy, desperate.

“Ride me,” he growled against your mouth. “Use me. I want to feel you cum all over my cock again.”

You did, bouncing on him, breasts pressed to his chest. His mouth latched onto your neck, sucking hard enough to leave bruises. Every time you slowed, he thrust up to meet you, driving himself impossibly deeper. His stamina was insane—sweat-slick, breathing ragged, but his hips never faltered.

“Gonna cum inside you,” he warned, voice breaking. “Been dying to fill this pussy up. Tell me you want it.”

“I want it—fuck, Megumi, please—”

He slammed up into you one final time, burying himself to the hilt as he came with a deep, broken moan. You felt every pulse, hot and thick, flooding you. The sensation pushed you over the edge again, your orgasm crashing through you so intensely your vision whited out.

But even after he came, he didn’t stop moving. Shallow, lazy thrusts, pushing his cum deeper as he kissed you slow and filthy.

“You’re not done yet,” he whispered, flipping you onto your back again. His cock was still hard. Still ready. “I told you. I’m better than those grandpas.”

He ate you out again, licking his own cum from your pussy while fingering you, then fucked you slow and deep on your side, one leg hooked over his hip. Then against the wall, your legs wrapped around him as he held you up like it was nothing. Then on the floor when your legs gave out.

Hours passed. He came three more times—once down your throat when you sucked him off between rounds, once across your tits, and finally deep inside you again while you rode him reverse cowgirl, his hands spreading your ass so he could watch himself disappear into you.

By the time the sun started creeping through the curtains, you were a wrecked, trembling mess. Covered in marks, thighs sticky with cum, voice hoarse from screaming his name. Megumi lay beside you, still tracing lazy circles on your oversensitive clit, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder.

“Older guys, huh?” he murmured, a rare, satisfied smirk on his lips. “Tell me again how they compare.”

You couldn’t. Because nothing had ever come close to this—raw, obsessive, endless energy that left you completely ruined and craving more.

Megumi Fushiguro wasn’t your type.

GOJO SATORU

Gojo Satoru had been an absolute menace tonight.

He’d pinned you down like you weighed nothing, that infuriatingly pretty face smirking the whole time while he fucked you stupid—long, merciless strokes that kissed your cervix with every brutal snap of his hips. He’d laughed when you cried out, called you his pretty little cumdump, edged you twice just to watch you sob and claw at his back. Mean. So fucking mean.

But now the tables were turning.

You waited for the exact second his smug guard dropped—right after he pulled out with a wet pop, cock glistening with your cream, chest heaving like he’d won. Before he could flip you over again, you surged up, shoved both hands against his broad chest and slammed him flat onto his back. The king-sized bed bounced under his weight.

“Wha—hey—!” Gojo’s bright blue eyes widened, that cocky grin flickering for the first time all night.

You didn’t give him time to recover. You swung a leg over his narrow waist, planted your palms on those rock-hard abs, and sank down onto his throbbing cock in one slick, greedy motion.

“Fuuuuck—!” Gojo’s head snapped back into the pillows, snowy white lashes fluttering as your tight, soaked pussy swallowed every thick inch of him. He was big—stupidly big—and the stretch burned so good it made your thighs tremble. But you didn’t stop. You rolled your hips forward, grinding your clit against his pelvis, taking him to the hilt until his heavy balls pressed against your ass.

“Shit—baby—slow down, I just—ngh!” His hands flew to your waist, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, trying to force you into the rhythm he wanted.

You slapped his hands away. “No.” Your voice came out low, dangerous, nothing like the whimpering mess he’d turned you into earlier. “You’ve had your fun, Satoru. Now you’re gonna take what I give you.”

You started riding him—slow, filthy circles at first, then rising up until only his flushed, leaky tip kissed your entrance before slamming back down. The wet slap of your ass meeting his thighs filled the room. Pap. Pap. Pap. Each drop made his cock disappear completely inside you, your slick coating his shaft until it glistened all the way to the base.

Gojo’s abs flexed violently under your palms. “Fuck—fuck, you’re so tight—gonna let me flip us, yeah? C’mon pretty, I’ll make it so good—”

You leaned forward, grabbed a fistful of his snowy hair and yanked his head back, forcing those glowing eyes to meet yours. “Shut up and take it.”

His cock twitched hard inside you at the command. A broken little moan slipped from his throat before he could swallow it.

You picked up the pace, bouncing on him faster, harder, letting your tits jiggle with every drop while your pussy clenched around him like a vice. The lewd schlick-schlick-schlick of your dripping cunt swallowing his cock over and over was obscene. Gojo’s mouth hung open, tongue lolling slightly, that perfect face flushed crimson.

He tried again—brat that he was. Hands gripping your hips with Six Eyes precision, he bucked up suddenly, trying to wrestle control and fuck you from below. You felt his thighs tense, hips snapping up with that monstrous strength.

You slammed down harder, pinning his pelvis to the mattress with your full weight. “I said no.” You rolled your hips in punishing circles, grinding his cock against that spongy spot deep inside you while denying him any real thrust. “You’re mine tonight, Satoru. My toy.”

“Baby—please—fuck, I’m so close already—” His voice cracked. Those legendary Six Eyes were glassy, pupils blown wide as he stared up at you like you were the only thing in the universe.

You slowed to a torturous grind, barely moving, just letting his throbbing length sit buried inside your clenching heat. Every time his cock pulsed, you squeezed around him deliberately, milking him without letting him tip over.

Gojo whimpered. Actually whimpered. “Don’t—don’t stop, I need—ngh—!”

You lifted off him almost completely, letting his cock slap wetly against his abs, angry red and dripping with your juices. You hovered there, teasing the slick head against your entrance, dipping just the tip in and out while he bucked desperately beneath you.

“Beg.”

His eyes snapped open. “What—?”

You sank down halfway, then lifted again, edging him mercilessly. “You heard me. Beg like the needy little slut you are.”

Gojo’s chest heaved, sweat sliding down the grooves of his abs. His cock was twitching violently, veins bulging, the fat head swollen and purple. “Fuck—baby, please—let me cum, I’ll be good, I swear—”

“Not good enough.” You dropped down again, taking him to the hilt and staying there, rolling your hips in tiny, cruel circles that rubbed your clit perfectly while his cock throbbed uselessly inside you. You could feel him leaking nonstop, painting your walls.

He tried one last time to flip you—hands sliding up to grab your tits, hips surging up with all that insane strength—but you pinned his wrists above his head with one hand (he let you, the desperate part of him loving it) and rode him even harder. Your ass clapped loudly against his thighs, pussy creaming so much it dripped down his balls and soaked the sheets.

“Fuck—fuck—fuck—!” Gojo’s voice broke into a whine. “Please—please let me cum inside you, I’ll do anything—wanna fill you up so bad—been so mean earlier, I’m sorry—baby please—!”

You leaned down, biting his lower lip hard enough to make him moan, then whispered against his mouth, “Say it again. Louder.”

“I’m sorry—fuck—please, I’m begging—let your good boy cum—wanna pump you full—ngh—gonna explode—!”

You finally gave it to him.

You sat up straight, planted both hands on his chest, and rode him like you were trying to break him—fast, brutal, ass bouncing, pussy squeezing him on every upstroke. The wet sounds were filthy, your slick squirting out around his cock with every slam.

Gojo’s eyes rolled back. “Cumming—cumming—fuuuuck—!”

His whole body seized. Thick, hot ropes of cum erupted deep inside you, flooding your womb in heavy, endless spurts. He kept cumming, hips jerking weakly beneath you as you milked him through it, grinding down hard to take every last drop. His cock pulsed and throbbed for what felt like minutes, painting your insides white until it started leaking out around him in creamy rivulets.

Even after he finished, you didn’t stop. You kept riding his oversensitive cock, slow and deep, watching his face twist in that beautiful mix of pleasure and overstimulation.

“W-wait—too much—baby—sensitive—ah—!” Gojo’s voice cracked again, tears pricking the corners of those brilliant eyes.

You smiled, wicked and satisfied, and clenched around him deliberately. “You can give me another one, can’t you, Satoru? After all that mean shit you pulled earlier… you owe me.”

He let out a wrecked sob-laugh, head falling back against the pillows, snowy hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. His cock—still rock hard inside you—twitched eagerly at your words.

“Yes—fuck—yes, I do—use me—ruin me—please—”

You leaned down, licked a stripe up his throat, and started riding him all over again—slower this time, savoring every inch, every desperate whimper, every broken “please” that fell from the strongest sorcerer’s pretty mouth.

By the time you were done with him, Gojo Satoru was a trembling, cum-soaked, begging mess… and he’d never looked more beautiful.

TOJI FUSHIGURO

Toji had you folded in half beneath him, thick muscular thighs pinning your legs wide open while he drilled into you like a man possessed. Missionary had never felt so fucking brutal. His scarred lip was curled, sweat dripping from his brow onto your tits as he slammed his fat cock into your soaked cunt over and over—deep, punishing strokes that punched right against your cervix and made your eyes roll back.

“Fuckin’ take it, babygirl,” he growled, voice low and gravelly, one massive hand wrapped around your throat just tight enough to make your head spin. “This pussy’s mine. Greedy little thing suckin’ me in so nasty.”

The wet pap-pap-pap of his heavy balls slapping your ass filled the room, mixed with your broken moans and the obscene squelch of your creamy cunt. He was so deep, so thick, stretching you open with every brutal thrust. His washboard abs flexed, that dark happy trail matted with your slick as he rutted into you harder, grunting like a beast.

You were close—so fucking close—but Toji knew. He always knew. He slowed just enough to keep you teetering right on the edge, smirking down at your tear-streaked face.

“Not yet, pretty thing. You cum when I say.”

That was it. That cocky, mean dominance flipped a switch inside you.

With a burst of adrenaline and the last of your strength, you hooked your legs around his waist, twisted hard, and used every bit of momentum to roll both of you over. Toji’s back hit the mattress with a heavy thud, cock still buried to the hilt inside you. You were on top now, straddling his narrow hips, chest heaving, sweat-slick skin glowing under the dim light.

Toji blinked once, surprised, then let out a deep, rumbling chuckle. His big hands immediately grabbed your ass, squeezing the soft flesh hard enough to leave marks.

“Oh? My pretty girl wanna ride?” He grinned, that scar pulling at his lip, eyes dark with hunger. “Atta girl~ Go on then. Use this dick.”

He surged up, latching his hot mouth onto your nipple, sucking hard while his tongue flicked the sensitive bud. One hand slid up your back, the other guiding your hips like he still owned the rhythm.

You shoved him.

Both palms planted firm on his broad chest, you pushed him flat back down onto the mattress. Hard.

Toji’s eyes flashed with surprise—then something hotter.

You didn’t wait. You planted your feet on the bed, lifted your hips until only his swollen, veiny tip was stretching your pussy lips, and slammed back down. Hard.

“Fuuuuck—!” Toji’s head snapped back, thick neck straining, veins popping along his throat as your tight, dripping cunt swallowed every inch of his massive cock in one go. The wet slap of your ass meeting his pelvis was loud, filthy.

You started riding him like you meant it—fast, deep, rolling your hips in nasty circles before bouncing again. Your tits bounced with every drop, pussy creaming so much it frothed white around his thick base, dripping down his heavy balls.

Toji’s hands flew to your waist again, trying to take control, fingers digging in. “Yeah—fuck, just like that, baby—ride this dick—ngh—”

You grabbed both his wrists and pinned them above his head, leaning your full weight down as you fucked him harder. The new angle made his curved cock drag right against that spongy spot inside you, making you moan loud and shameless.

Toji’s brows furrowed. That cocky smirk faltered.

“The fuck you think you’re doin’?” he grunted, voice rough, trying to buck his hips up to reclaim the rhythm. But you slammed down harder, grinding your clit against his pelvis and clenching around him like a vice every time you bottomed out.

“I’m fucking you, Toji,” you panted, voice breathy but firm, still bouncing on his cock like it was your personal toy. “You’ve been rough with me for so long… now it’s my turn.”

He let out a frustrated growl, muscles flexing as he tested your grip on his wrists. You didn’t budge. His cock throbbed violently inside you, betraying him completely.

“Brat—shit—slow the fuck down—” But his voice cracked on the last word when you started really riding him—ass rippling with every harsh drop, pussy squeezing and fluttering around his thickness. The room filled with wet, sloppy sounds: schlick-schlick-schlick, skin slapping skin, your moans mixing with his low, angry grunts.

Toji’s ego was screaming. This wasn’t how it went. He was supposed to be the one wrecking you, not the other way around. He tried again—twisting his wrists, hips snapping up sharply to impale you deeper—but you rode through it, grinding down and rolling your hips in filthy figure-eights that made his toes curl.

“Goddamn it—fuck—” He bared his teeth, scar pulling tight, eyes burning with frustration… and something darker. Something hungry. Internally, his brain was short-circuiting. The way your tight cunt gripped him, the way you used him, the sight of your tits bouncing while you took what you wanted—it was driving him insane. He fucking loved it. Hated how much he loved it.

But he’d die before saying it out loud.

“Get off me and let me fuck you proper, woman,” he snarled, voice strained, trying to sound pissed. Instead it came out wrecked, husky, desperate.

You just smiled, wicked and breathless, and rode him faster. You released his wrists only to plant your hands on his chest, nails digging into his pecs as you bounced harder. His cock kissed your cervix on every drop, veins dragging along your walls, the lewd squelching louder than ever.

Toji’s head pressed back into the pillow, jaw clenched so hard the muscles jumped. “Fuckin’—ngh—shit, you’re squeezin’ me so tight—slow down or I’m gonna—”

You clenched deliberately around him again, rolling your hips slow and deep, feeling every ridge and vein. “You’re gonna what, Toji? Cum? Like a good boy?”

His eyes snapped open, furious and glassy. “Don’t you fuckin’—hah—start that shit with me—”

But his cock betrayed him again, swelling thicker inside you, pulsing dangerously. You could feel him leaking nonstop, hot precum mixing with your cream.

You leaned down, biting his scarred lip before pulling back just enough to keep riding him mercilessly. “Then beg me to let you cum.”

Toji’s face twisted—frustration, pleasure, ego all warring across his handsome, scarred features. He bucked up hard, trying one last time to flip you, but you slammed your hips down and pinned him with your weight, grinding in tight circles that made his abs twitch and his thighs shake.

“Fuck—fuck you—” he growled, but his voice was breaking, breath coming in ragged pants. Internally he was losing it—the way you owned his cock, the way your pussy milked him, the power in your eyes—it was the hottest thing he’d ever felt. His pride screamed no, but his body screamed yes.

You kept riding, faster, wetter, ass clapping loudly against him while your cunt fluttered and squeezed. “Say it, Toji. Tell me how bad you need it.”

His hands grabbed your hips again—not to control this time, but to hold on, fingers trembling. A low, broken groan ripped from his chest as you angled just right and slammed down particularly hard.

“Shit—baby—fuck—please—” The word slipped out before he could stop it. His cheeks burned. “Don’t stop—fuckin’ ride me—gonna cum so hard—please—”

You rewarded him by bouncing faster, tits jiggling, pussy creaming all over his cock until it was frothy white. Toji’s eyes rolled back, scar stretched tight over his snarling mouth as his massive body started to shake.

When you finally clenched hard and ground down deep, he broke.

“Fuuuuck—cumming—gonna fill you up—shit—take it all, pretty girl—ngh—!”

Thick, heavy ropes of cum erupted deep inside you, flooding your womb in hot, endless spurts. Toji’s hips jerked weakly beneath you, grunting and cursing as you kept riding him through it, milking every drop while his cock twitched and pulsed.

Even after he finished, you didn’t stop—slow, lazy rolls of your hips, keeping him buried deep in your cum-filled pussy.

Toji’s chest heaved, eyes half-lidded, that usual cocky mask cracked wide open. He looked wrecked. Beautifully wrecked.

He’d never admit how much he loved being under you… but the way his spent cock was already twitching back to life inside you said everything.

You leaned down, kissing his scarred lips softly before whispering, “Good boy.”

Toji groaned, half-frustrated, half-obsessed, and pulled you down harder against him.

“Fuckin’ brat… do it again.”

CHOSO KAMO

Choso had you on all fours, strong hands gripping your hips with a desperation you’d never quite felt from him before. Usually your sweet, soft-spoken boyfriend was all gentle thrusts and whispered praises—“You feel so good, baby… so perfect around me…”—but tonight something had snapped.

He was fucking you hard from behind, hips snapping forward with powerful, rhythmic smacks that made your ass ripple. His thick cock stretched you open so deep you could barely breathe, the fat head bullying your cervix on every brutal plunge.

“Fuck—fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight,” Choso groaned, voice hoarse and low, long black hair sticking to his sweaty shoulders. One hand slid up your spine and fisted your hair, tugging your head back as he drove in deeper. “Taking me so well… my pretty girl… hah—gonna cum so deep inside you.”

The wet pap-pap-pap of his heavy balls slapping your clit filled the room, mixed with your broken moans and the filthy squelch of your soaked pussy. He was so thick, veins dragging along your walls, stretching you perfectly. You were creaming around him, slick dripping down your thighs with every punishing thrust.

But you wanted more. You wanted control.

The next time he pulled back, you spun fast, twisting beneath him. Choso’s cock slipped out with a wet pop, glistening with your cream. Before he could react, you shoved his chest and climbed on top, straddling his narrow waist. You grabbed his throbbing length, lined him up, and sank down in one smooth, greedy motion.

“Shit—baby—!” Choso’s eyes widened, those dark marks across his face flushing deeper as your tight heat swallowed every inch. His hands flew to your thighs, squeezing softly like he always did—still so gentle even now.

You planted both palms on his toned chest and started riding him hard. Ass bouncing, hips rolling in filthy circles, pussy clenching around his thickness on every downstroke. The wet slap of skin on skin was louder now, your juices coating his abs and dripping down his balls.

Choso’s head fell back against the pillows, mouth open in a silent moan. “Oh my god—yes—ride me, please—feels so fucking good—”

You leaned forward, grabbed his wrists and pinned them beside his head. “That’s right. Tonight you’re mine, Choso. Gonna use this pretty cock until I’m satisfied.”

His cock twitched violently inside you at your words. A needy whine slipped from his throat—high, desperate, nothing like his usual soft murmurs.

You rode him faster, tits bouncing with every harsh drop, grinding your clit against his pelvis on every roll. His thick cock kissed that spongy spot deep inside you over and over, making your thighs shake.

Choso’s eyes were glassy, pupils blown wide with lust. “Baby—hah—slow down a little, I’m so close already—please—”

You lifted off him almost completely, letting only his swollen, leaking tip stretch your entrance before slamming back down. Then you stopped moving entirely, just clenching around him rhythmically, milking his cock without giving him any friction.

Choso’s hips bucked up desperately, trying to chase the heat of your pussy. “No—no, please—don’t stop—need you—”

You smiled, wicked and breathless, and started riding him again—slow, torturous bounces that let you feel every vein, every ridge. “Beg for it, Choso. Tell me how bad you need to cum.”

His face flushed crimson, but there wasn’t a single trace of shame. Choso loved this. Loved being under you. Loved when you took control and used him like your personal toy.

“Please—please baby, let me cum inside you,” he whimpered, voice cracking beautifully. “Your pussy feels so good— so warm and wet— I’ll be so good for you, I swear— just let me fill you up— ngh—!”

You rewarded him by bouncing harder, ass clapping loudly against his thighs. But right when his cock started swelling and his thighs trembled beneath you, you slowed again—edging him cruelly.

Choso let out a broken sob, head thrashing against the pillow. “No—please— I was so close— I need it— baby please don’t stop—!”

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, those dark stripes across his nose and cheeks glistening with sweat. His cock was throbbing angrily inside you, leaking nonstop, painting your walls with precum. You could feel his heartbeat pulsing through every thick inch.

You leaned down, biting his neck softly while you rolled your hips in tiny, maddening circles. “You look so pretty like this, Choso. Trembling under me. Beg some more.”

“Fuck—please—ride me harder—use me— I’m yours— all yours—” He was babbling now, completely lost in it, hips jerking weakly beneath you. “I’ll do anything— just let me cum— wanna fill you until it’s dripping out— please, I can’t take it—!”

You sat up straight, planted your hands on his chest again, and started riding him with purpose—fast, deep, brutal bounces that made the bed creak. Your pussy clenched around him like a vice on every upstroke, creamy slick frothing white at his base.

Choso’s eyes rolled back, tongue lolling slightly as broken moans spilled from his lips. “Yes—yes—thank you—feels so good—gonna cum—baby I’m gonna—!”

You slammed down one final time and ground hard against him, clit rubbing perfectly while your walls fluttered and squeezed.

Choso shattered.

A loud, wrecked cry tore from his throat as thick, hot ropes of cum flooded your insides—pulse after heavy pulse, filling you so full it started leaking out around his cock immediately. His whole body trembled violently beneath you, abs clenching, thighs shaking, fingers digging into the sheets as he came harder than he ever had.

But you didn’t stop.

You kept riding him through his orgasm, slow and deep, milking every last drop while his oversensitive cock twitched and jerked inside your cum-stuffed pussy.

“Baby—hah—too much—sensitive—please—” Choso whimpered, tears slipping down his flushed cheeks, but his hips still weakly rolled up to meet you, cock refusing to soften.

You leaned down, kissing his tears away while you kept moving. “One more, Choso. You can give me one more, can’t you? My good boy.”

He nodded frantically, voice hoarse and desperate. “Yes—yes please—use me—edge me again— I love it— love when you brat tame me— please don’t stop—!”

You smiled against his lips and started riding him all over again—long, intense strokes, squeezing and grinding, pushing your sweet, submissive boyfriend right back to the trembling, begging edge while he moaned your name like a prayer.

Choso was in heaven. Completely, shamelessly yours. And he never wanted it to end.

GETO SUGURU

Geto Suguru had been an absolute tease all night.

At the reunion, surrounded by his devoted followers, he kept brushing his fingers along the small of your back, whispering filthy promises against your ear while smiling that serene, cult-leader smile. “Be patient, my love. I’ll ruin you later.” His hand would drift lower, squeezing your ass discreetly when no one was looking, then pull away like nothing happened. By the time you were finally alone in the lavish private quarters, you were soaked, aching, and pissed off in the best way.

The second the heavy door clicked shut, you turned on him.

Suguru barely had time to smirk before you shoved him back against the wall, fingers twisting into the front of his expensive black robes and yanking him down into a bruising kiss. He chuckled softly into your mouth, but you didn’t let him take control. You pushed him harder, walking him backwards until his knees hit the edge of the massive bed and he dropped onto it.

“Strip,” you ordered, already shedding your own clothes.

His dark eyes gleamed with amusement and heat. “Bossy tonight, wife?”

You climbed onto his lap before he could finish undressing fully, shoving the robes open so his toned, pale chest was exposed. His cock was already hard, thick and flushed, curving slightly upward. You wrapped your fingers around the base and sank down onto him in one smooth, greedy motion.

“Fuck—!” Suguru’s head fell back, long black hair spilling across the sheets as your tight, dripping cunt swallowed every inch. The stretch was perfect, his thickness filling you so completely your walls fluttered around him.

You didn’t give him a second to adjust. You planted your hands on his chest and started riding him—hard, fast, ass bouncing with wet, filthy slaps against his thighs. Pap. Pap. Pap. Your slick coated his shaft instantly, dripping down to soak his balls.

Suguru groaned, hands flying to your hips. “Shit, baby—slow down, let me—”

“No.” You grabbed both his wrists and pinned them above his head, leaning your full weight on him as you rolled your hips in deep, punishing circles. “You teased me all night, Suguru. Now you’re going to take what I give you.”

His cock twitched hard inside you. A low, pleased laugh rumbled from his chest even as his eyes darkened with lust. “Look at you… my powerful little wife. Taking control like the queen you are.” He loved this—loved powerful women, loved when you reminded him exactly who you were. The cult leader’s wife who could command a room just as easily as she commanded his cock.

You rode him faster, tits bouncing, pussy creaming so much it frothed white around his thick base. The wet schlick-schlick-schlick of your cunt devouring him filled the room, mixed with your moans and his ragged breaths.

When you felt him start to swell, thighs tensing beneath you, you slowed to a torturous grind—barely moving, just clenching around him rhythmically while his leaking tip kissed your cervix.

Suguru’s jaw clenched, hips bucking up desperately. “Don’t you dare edge me, love—”

You slammed down hard once, then stopped again, smiling sweetly. “I dare. You’re mine tonight.”

He groaned, long and low, but his eyes were shining with pure adoration and filthy want. “Fuck… you’re so hot when you’re like this. Ruling me. Using me.” His voice was husky, reverent. “My perfect queen.”

You rewarded his praise by riding him again—fast, brutal bounces that made the bed creak. Your ass clapped loudly against his pelvis, pussy squeezing him on every upstroke. Suguru’s abs flexed, veins standing out along his neck as he fought not to cum.

Right when his cock started pulsing dangerously, you lifted off him completely, letting his slick, throbbing length slap wetly against his stomach. You hovered there, teasing the swollen head against your dripping entrance.

“Baby—please—” The word slipped out, rare and delicious from the usually composed Geto Suguru.

You sank down halfway, then lifted again, edging him mercilessly. “Beg properly, Suguru. Tell your wife how bad you need her cunt.”

He let out a wrecked chuckle that dissolved into a moan when you clenched around just his tip. “Please—my queen, my love—let me cum inside you. I’ve been hard for you all night. Need to fill this perfect pussy—need you to ride me until I can’t think—”

You dropped down fully and rode him like you were trying to break him. Hard, deep, relentless. Your nails dug into his chest, leaving red marks across his pale skin as you bounced, grinding your clit against him on every stroke.

Suguru’s head pressed back into the pillows, long hair fanned out, mouth open in a silent cry. “Yes—fuck— just like that— you’re so good— so fucking powerful— hah—!”

You edged him twice more—bringing him right to the brink, then stopping, watching his cock twitch and leak helplessly while he trembled beneath you. Tears of overstimulation and pleasure pricked the corners of his dark eyes, but he never once tried to flip you. He loved it too much.

By the fourth edge, he was shaking.

“Baby—please— I can’t— I need to cum— I’ll do anything— just let me fill you— please, my queen—” His voice cracked, usually smooth tone now hoarse and desperate. His hips jerked weakly, trying to chase your heat, but you kept him pinned.

You finally took mercy.

You slammed down hard, riding him with everything you had—ass rippling, pussy fluttering and squeezing, tits bouncing wildly. The wet sounds were obscene, your combined moans echoing off the walls.

“Cum for me, Suguru. Fill your wife up.”

He broke with a guttural groan that sounded almost pained. Thick, hot ropes of cum erupted deep inside you, flooding your womb in heavy, endless spurts. His cock pulsed violently, body shuddering beneath you as he came harder than he had in months. You kept riding through it, milking every drop until his cum was leaking out around his shaft and dripping down his balls.

Even after, you didn’t stop—slow, deep grinds, keeping him buried inside your cum-filled pussy while he twitched and whimpered from the overstimulation.

Suguru looked up at you with glassy, worshipful eyes, chest heaving, sweat glistening on his skin. “You’re incredible,” he whispered, voice raw. “My strong, beautiful wife… ruling me so perfectly.”

You leaned down, biting his lower lip before kissing him slow and deep.

“And I’m not done with you yet, husband.”

Suguru smiled against your mouth, cock already twitching back to life inside you.

“Good. Break me again.”

SUKUNA RYOMEN

Sukuna had dared you.

The King of Curses himself—your husband—had smirked down at you after yet another night of wrecking you into the mattress, four massive hands pinning you down while he laughed at how easily you submitted. “You’re such a brat everywhere else, wife. But in my bed? You melt like a desperate little whore. I dare you to try and dominate me one day. See what happens.”

You took the dare.

That night, while he slept like the arrogant bastard he was, you carefully bound his four wrists to the reinforced posts of your massive bed using the special cursed bindings you’d prepared. Then you waited.

Sukuna woke up slowly, crimson eyes cracking open. He tugged once on the restraints, chains rattling, and let out a low, dangerous chuckle that sent shivers down your spine.

“Well, well… look at this.” His voice was a deep, velvety growl, laced with irritation and dark amusement. Four powerful arms flexed, testing the bindings. The muscles in his tattooed torso rippled as he shifted. He could snap them in half instantly if he wanted. But he didn’t. Those sharp eyes locked onto you, sitting naked between his spread thighs, and his lips curled into a fanged smirk. “You’ve got balls, woman. Let’s see how long you last before I break these chains and fuck you stupid.”

You crawled up his body slowly, dragging your nails down his rock-hard abs, tracing the black tattoos that marked his pale skin. Leaning over his face, you whispered right against his ear, voice sweet and deadly:

“Tonight you’re my toy, Sukuna. And if you misbehave… I might just leave you here aching all night.”

Anyone else would’ve been eviscerated for saying that. Sukuna’s eyes flashed with murderous heat, but his cock—thick, veiny, and already rock hard—twitched hard against his stomach, betraying him.

You smiled sweetly and wrapped both hands around his massive length. Even with two hands it was a stretch. You stroked him slowly, torturously, thumb rubbing over the swollen, leaking head. Sukuna groaned low in his throat, hips twitching up into your grip.

“Brat,” he snarled, tugging harder on the chains. “Stroke it properly or I’ll—”

You dragged your fingers away completely, leaving his cock bobbing angrily in the air, flushed dark red and dripping precum down the shaft. You smirked, watching his four arms strain, veins bulging.

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “You’re pushing it, wife.”

You leaned down and dragged your tongue slowly up the underside of his cock, from balls to tip, before pulling back again. “Am I?” you whispered, lips brushing the sensitive head. “Or are you just mad because your little wife is finally putting the big bad King in his place?”

You straddled his thick thighs and sank down onto him in one smooth glide, taking every brutal inch until your ass pressed against his heavy balls. The stretch burned so good you moaned loud, walls fluttering around his girth.

“Fuuuuck—” Sukuna’s head slammed back against the pillows, fangs bared. “Tight— so fucking tight—”

You started riding him hard. Ass bouncing, hips rolling in filthy circles, pussy creaming around his thickness with every drop. The wet pap-pap-pap of your ass meeting his pelvis echoed through the room, mixed with the wet squelching of your soaked cunt devouring his cock.

Sukuna growled, four arms yanking violently on the chains, making the bed creak. “Faster, brat— ride me like you mean it or I’ll tear these bindings off and—”

You slammed down and stopped moving completely, grinding in slow, maddening circles while clenching around him. “You’ll what?” you whispered, leaning forward so your tits brushed his chest. “Kill me? Your own wife? The only one who can handle this cock?”

You smirked right in his face as you edged him mercilessly—riding him right to the edge, feeling his cock swell and throb inside you, then lifting off until only the fat tip stretched your pussy lips before sinking down again.

Sukuna was trembling now. Not from weakness—from pure, frustrated pleasure. His crimson eyes burned with irritation and raw lust. “You filthy little—ngh—tease. I should rip you apart for this.”

But he didn’t break the chains.

You dragged your nails down his chest, leaving red lines across the tattoos, and rode him again—faster, harder, tits bouncing wildly. The lewd schlick-schlick-schlick of your dripping pussy filled the air. Sukuna’s abs flexed violently, hips trying to buck up and take control, but you pinned his pelvis down with your weight and kept the rhythm cruel.

Right when his cock started pulsing and his thighs shook, you lifted off completely again, stroking him slowly with both hands while smirking down at his furious, flushed face.

“Look at you,” you purred, voice dripping with mock sweetness. “The King of Curses, chained up and leaking for his wife. So close… but you don’t get to cum until I say.”

Sukuna snarled, fangs glinting, four arms bulging as he pulled against the restraints. “You’re dead, brat— I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk— fill you with so much cum you’ll be swollen for days—”

You squeezed the base of his cock hard, cutting off his orgasm, and watched pre-cum dribble helplessly down his shaft. His whole body jerked, a low, animalistic growl ripping from his chest.

But when you finally sank back down and started riding him again, he moaned—deep, wrecked, shameless.

You edged him four more times. Each one worse than the last. By the final edge he was shaking, sweat glistening on his tattooed muscles, long pink hair stuck to his face, crimson eyes glassy with desperate need.

“Please—” The word sounded like it physically pained him, but it still came out. “Fuck— wife— let me cum— I’ll tear you apart after, but please— let me fill that greedy cunt—”

You smirked victoriously, leaned down and bit his scarred shoulder hard while slamming down on his cock over and over.

“Cum for me, King.”

Sukuna roared.

His massive body seized, four arms yanking so hard the chains groaned as thick, heavy ropes of cum exploded deep inside you. He flooded your womb in violent, endless spurts, so much it gushed out around his cock instantly, soaking his balls and the sheets beneath. His hips jerked wildly beneath you, fucking up into you even while bound, chasing every last pulse.

You kept riding him through it, grinding and squeezing, milking him dry while he snarled and moaned and cursed your name like a prayer and a threat all at once.

Even after he finished, you didn’t stop—slow, lazy bounces on his oversensitive cock, watching him twitch and hiss through the overstimulation.

Sukuna’s chest heaved, eyes half-lidded, that dangerous smirk slowly returning to his lips despite everything.

“You’ve got one night, brat,” he growled, voice hoarse and fucked-out. “Use it well. Because when these chains come off… I’m going to remind you exactly who owns this pussy.”

You just smiled, clenching around his spent cock, and whispered against his mouth:

“We’ll see about that, husband.”

Sukuna had always indulged his brat of a wife.

You interrupted him mid-sentence during war council, rolling your eyes when he got dramatically theatrical about executing traitors. You’d perch on the arm of his massive throne like it was your personal seat, legs crossed, filing your nails while he held court. When he reached for you expecting instant affection, you’d pull away first with a sweet little smirk, denying him just to watch his four eyes narrow. You ignored his summons some days, making the King of Curses wait for your attention like a common servant. And you decided when he got your kisses, your touches—never the other way around.

In every aspect of life, you were a spoiled, untamed brat.

Except in bed.

In bed, Sukuna had always been merciless. Four arms pinning you down, cocks splitting you open, fucking you raw until you sobbed and begged and forgot your own name. He dominated you completely, and you loved it.

Until tonight.

You were straddling his lap on the throne after everyone else had been dismissed, grinding slowly against the massive bulge in his robes while he lounged back with a lazy, fanged grin.

“Careful, woman,” he rumbled, voice deep and amused. “Keep pushing and I might let you try to dominate me for once. See how far that bratty attitude gets you.”

Your eyes lit up with wicked delight. You leaned in, nipping his lower lip before pulling back just out of reach when he tried to kiss you.

“Challenge accepted, my King.”

Sukuna’s smirk widened, all four arms settling on your waist. “Oh? Then show me, brat. Try to tame me.”

You didn’t hesitate.

You shoved his broad chest, forcing him to stay seated on the throne as you stripped him. His two heavy cocks sprang free—thick, veiny, already dripping. You wrapped both hands around the upper one, stroking slowly while you positioned yourself over the lower.

Sukuna chuckled darkly. “Ambitious little—”

You sank down onto his lower cock in one smooth drop, taking him to the hilt. The stretch burned deliciously, your soaked pussy fluttering around his insane girth.

“Fuuuck—” Sukuna growled, one set of hands gripping your hips hard.

You started riding him immediately—hard, fast, ass bouncing with loud, wet slaps against his muscular thighs. Pap. Pap. Pap. Your slick coated him instantly, dripping down to soak the throne beneath you.

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, but his cocks twitched hard inside and against you. “Bold tonight, aren’t we?”

You grabbed two of his wrists and pinned them to the throne arms (he let you, the bastard), rolling your hips in filthy circles while you stroked his upper cock in time with your bounces.

“You’re mine right now, husband,” you panted, leaning down to bite his neck. “Gonna edge you until you’re begging.”

He laughed—low, dangerous—but you felt his cocks throb. He loved this. Loved when you pushed back. Loved powerful brats who challenged him.

You rode him faster, pussy squeezing and creaming around his lower cock while your hand worked the upper one, thumb swirling over the leaking tip. The wet schlick-schlick-schlick echoed through the empty hall. When you felt both cocks swelling, his thighs tensing, you slowed to a torturous grind.

Sukuna’s jaw clenched, fangs bared. “Don’t you fucking dare stop, woman.”

You lifted off his lower cock completely, letting it slap wetly against his abs, and hovered there teasingly. “Or what?”

His eyes flashed with irritation and raw lust. One of his free hands shot out to grab your ass, but you slapped it away and sank back down, riding him hard again—only to edge him a second time when he got close.

“Brat—” he snarled, voice rough. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

But he was obsessed. The way you defied him, the way you used his cocks like toys, the fire in your eyes—it made his blood boil in the best way. He could crush you in a second, yet here he was, letting his little wife edge the King of Curses on his own throne.

You kept pushing—riding him mercilessly, stroking both cocks, whispering filthy taunts. “Look at you, my big strong husband… getting edged by his wife. Does it piss you off? Or does it make you harder?”

Sukuna’s growl turned into a groan when you clenched particularly hard. “Keep talking and I’ll put you back in your fucking place.”

You leaned in, licking the tattooed marks on his chest before pulling away again when he tried to kiss you. “Make me.”

That snapped something in him.

With a feral snarl, Sukuna’s patience shattered. Two arms grabbed your waist, another fisted your hair, the last one wrapping around your throat as he surged up. He flipped you so fast your head spun—now you were bent over the throne, ass up, face pressed into the cool stone.

“You wanted to play, wife?” he growled, slamming both cocks into you at once—one stretching your dripping cunt, the other forcing its way into your tight ass.

You screamed in pleasure, eyes rolling back.

Sukuna fucked you like a beast unleashed—brutal, punishing thrusts that made your whole body jolt. The dual stretch was overwhelming, his heavy balls slapping your clit as he railed you.

“Bratty little cunt thinks she can tame me?” He spanked your ass hard, then again, leaving red handprints. “This is what happens when you push me, slut.”

You pushed back anyway, rolling your hips to meet his savage thrusts, still challenging him even while getting destroyed. “Is that all you’ve got, my King?”

Sukuna laughed—dark, delighted—and fucked you harder. Four arms manhandling you, cocks pistoning deep, rearranging your guts while you moaned and drooled against the throne.

He edged you right back—slowing when you were close, laughing when you whined and tried to push back for more.

“See? This is your place,” he snarled, biting your shoulder hard enough to mark. “Under me. Filled with my cocks. Taking what I give you.”

But even as he said it, his thrusts grew erratic, obsessed. He loved your brattiness. Loved when you challenged him. Loved putting his fiery wife back where she belonged—impaled and screaming his name.

When he finally let you cum, it hit like lightning. Your pussy and ass clenched around both cocks, squirting messily down your thighs as you wailed.

Sukuna followed with a groan, flooding both holes with thick, endless ropes of cum until it gushed out around him, dripping down the throne in creamy rivers.

He didn’t pull out. Instead he flipped you again, sitting back on his throne with you impaled on both cocks, facing him.

You were trembling, cum-stuffed and marked, but you still smirked up at him, eyes sparkling with that same bratty defiance.

Sukuna grinned, fangs flashing, one hand stroking your cheek almost tenderly while another squeezed your ass.

“Round two, wife. Let’s see how long you last before you’re begging me to ruin you again.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically, interrupting whatever he was about to say next.

“Make me, husband.”

His laugh was pure, dangerous delight.

“Oh, I will, brat. I fucking will.”

Gojo’s got you pinned beneath him like you’re his favorite fucking toy—missionary, but nothing sweet about it. Your back’s arched off the messy sheets, legs hiked up and spread so goddamn wide his big hands are gripping the soft backs of your thighs, pressing them toward your chest. He’s folding you in half, hips slamming down with that cocky, relentless rhythm only Satoru Gojo can pull off. Every brutal thrust makes your tits bounce under the thin tank top you’re still half-wearing, the fabric twisted up around your ribs.

“Fuuuck, look at you,” he groans, voice low and smug, those bright blue eyes half-lidded as he watches his thick cock disappear into your soaked pussy again and again. “Taking me so deep, baby. This greedy little cunt’s sucking me in like it missed me all day.”

He’s rough—always is when he gets like this. The wet slap of his heavy balls against your ass echoes through the room, mixed with the filthy squelch of your creamy walls gripping him. You’re creaming so much it’s dripping down to the sheets, shiny strings of it clinging to his pale groin every time he bottoms out. Gojo’s abs flex hard with each snap of his hips, that stupidly perfect V-line glistening with sweat. He’s got that cocky grin plastered on his face, white hair messy and sticking to his forehead as he rails you harder, the headboard banging against the wall like it’s about to break.

“Mngh—Satoru!” you cry out, nails digging into his broad shoulders, leaving red streaks down his back. Your legs tremble in his grip, spread obscenely wide, pussy lips stretched tight around his girth. He’s so fucking big, stretching you open, dragging against every sensitive ridge inside you until your eyes roll back.

“Yeah? Say my name louder, princess,” he taunts, leaning down to bite at your neck, hips never slowing. He grinds deep, stirring your insides before pulling back just to slam in again, bullying that sweet spot over and over. “Want the whole neighborhood knowing who’s fucking you stupid.”

Then he shifts.

Just a little tilt of those dangerous hips—angling downward so his groin presses flush against your swollen clit on every thrust. The first time it happens, your whole body jerks like you’ve been shocked. His pubic bone grinds right into that puffy, sticky bundle of nerves, mashing it perfectly while his cock kisses your cervix at the same time.

A wet, obscene schlick sound fills the air when he pulls back. Your aroused clit, slick and swollen from how long he’s been wrecking you, sticks to his groin for a split second before peeling away with that filthy noise.

Gojo doesn’t notice at first—he’s too busy groaning at how your walls flutter around him like crazy. “Shit—baby, you’re gripping me so tight. You close again?”

But you’re losing it. Your moans pitch higher, turning into desperate, broken whimpers. Your thighs shake violently in his hold as you instinctively try to spread even wider for him, knees pushing toward your shoulders. The pressure on your clit is unbearable—electric, sticky, perfect. Every time his groin drags over it, that lewd schlick-schlick repeats, your slick coating his skin, making the friction filthy and loud.

Gojo’s eyes widen a fraction when he finally clocks what’s happening. You’re not just taking his cock—you’re grinding your clit against him like a slut in heat. And then you do it. One of your hands flies down between your bodies, fingers spreading your puffy pussy lips even wider, blatantly offering your throbbing clit to his next thrust.

“Fuck—look at you,” he breathes, voice dropping into something darker, hungrier. “Spreading this pretty cunt for me? Want my groin rubbing all over that greedy clit, huh?”

He tests it—pulls back slow, letting the sticky strands of your arousal stretch between you, then snaps forward. Schluuuurp. The wet sound is pornographic. His groin smashes right against your exposed clit, grinding in tight circles while his cock stuffs you full. Your eyes cross. A wrecked “aaaah—!” rips from your throat as pleasure slams into you like a freight train.

Gojo chuckles, low and filthy, but there’s awe in it too. “Holy shit, baby. You’re squirting already? We’re just getting started.”

He doesn’t let up. He keeps that new angle, hips rolling with devastating precision—cock spearing deep, groin mashing and grinding your clit on every single thrust. The pap-pap-pap of his hips against your ass turns into wetter, messier slaps. Your pussy’s gushing now, clear slick spraying out around his cock with every brutal grind. You’re soaking his abs, his thighs, the sheets—everything.

“Toru—Satoru—fuck, right there—!” you sob, legs kicking uselessly in the air as he holds them open. Your fingers stay right there, spreading yourself obscenely so nothing stops that perfect friction on your clit. Every time he pulls back, your swollen nub sticks to his skin, stretching before snapping back with another wet pop.

Gojo’s panting now, that cocky grin gone, replaced by raw hunger. Sweat drips from his jaw onto your tits as he fucks you harder, faster, grinding his groin in filthy circles against your clit while his thick cock rearranges your insides. “That’s it, princess. Make a mess for me. Squirt all over my fucking cock—let me feel it.”

Your orgasm hits like a tidal wave. Your back arches clean off the bed, mouth open in a silent scream before it rips out as a guttural moan. Your pussy clamps down around him like a vice, spasming wildly, and then you’re squirting—hard. Clear, hot fluid jets out around his pistoning cock, splashing against his groin, his abs, soaking everything between you. The wet sounds are obscene, nonstop schlick-squelch-splash as he keeps fucking you through it, grinding that perfect pressure on your clit until your vision whites out.

“Fuuuuck—good girl, good fucking girl,” Gojo growls, voice strained. He’s still buried to the hilt, letting your walls milk him while your squirt keeps pulsing out in messy waves. Your legs are shaking uncontrollably, toes curled, pussy lips fluttering around him as you ride the high.

He doesn’t pull out. Instead he leans down, crushing his mouth to yours in a messy, tongue-filled kiss while he keeps shallowly grinding, letting your overstimulated clit twitch against his slick groin. “We’re not done, baby,” he murmurs against your lips, that signature smirk creeping back. “I wanna see how many times I can make you squirt before I fill this cute pussy up. Legs stay spread—let me feel that sticky little clit beg for more.”

Your whimper is all the answer he needs as he starts moving again—rough, deep, relentless—already chasing the next flood of your slick all over his skin.

choso was always so gentle with you, like you were made of the finest glass and one wrong move might shatter everything beautiful between you two. he treated you like his whole universe wrapped in soft skin and sweet sighs, especially tonight when it was his first time ever being this close, this deep, this raw with the woman he loved more than life itself. you were his girlfriend, his everything, and he’d spent weeks whispering how much he wanted this but how scared he was of messing it up. yet here you were, tangled in his sheets, bodies already slick with sweat and anticipation, and he was hovering above you like a man lost in a dream he never wanted to wake from.

his dark hair fell messy over his forehead, those sharp eyes of his wide and full of nervous hunger as he looked down at you. “you sure this is okay?” he breathed, voice low and shaky, barely above a whisper against your lips. his fingers trembled just a little as they traced the curve of your hip, sliding up to cup one of your breasts like it was sacred. you nodded, pulling him closer by the back of his neck, kissing him slow and deep until his tongue tangled with yours and he let out this soft, broken sound that went straight between your legs. “i want you so bad, baby,” you murmured against his mouth, guiding his hand lower until his fingers brushed your soaked folds. he groaned at how wet you already were for him, like your body had been waiting years just to take him in.

choso was so careful, so painfully patient even though you could feel his cock throbbing hard against your thigh, leaking and twitching every time you shifted. he kissed down your neck, sucking gentle marks into your skin like he was claiming you without rushing a single second. his mouth found your nipple next, tongue swirling slow and reverent while two thick fingers finally pushed inside you, stretching you open with this low, wrecked moan vibrating against your chest. “you feel so warm,” he whispered, voice cracking just a bit as he curled those fingers deep, scissoring them carefully like he’d studied every way to make you feel good. your back arched, a needy little whimper slipping out, and he looked up at you with those intense eyes, pupils blown wide. “tell me if it’s too much, okay? i don’t wanna hurt you.”

you shook your head, hips rolling against his hand, chasing the pleasure he was giving so sweetly. “it’s perfect, choso… you’re perfect,” you told him, and the praise made his cock jerk hard against your skin, a bead of precum smearing warm across your thigh. he kept working you open, adding a third finger when you started moaning louder, his thumb circling your clit in these slow, perfect strokes until your thighs were shaking and you were dripping all over his palm. he was breathing heavy now, chest rising and falling fast, forehead pressed to yours like he needed the closeness to stay grounded. “i love you,” he kept repeating between kisses, soft and desperate, like the words were the only thing keeping him from losing control. “love you so fucking much.”

when you finally tugged at his hair and begged him to fuck you, choso’s whole body tensed. he pulled his fingers out slow, bringing them to his mouth to taste you with this hungry little groan that made your pussy clench around nothing. he lined himself up then, thick head of his cock nudging against your entrance, slick and hot and so ready it was almost painful. his hands gripped your hips tight, thumbs stroking soothing circles like he was trying to calm himself more than you. “tell me again,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “tell me you want this.” you wrapped your legs around his waist, heels digging into his lower back, pulling him in. “i want you inside me, baby. all of you. right now.”

he pushed in.

just the tip at first, stretching you open so slow and careful it made stars burst behind your eyes. choso’s breath hitched sharp, a broken gasp tearing from his throat as your walls fluttered around him, hot and tight and wetter than he ever imagined. his eyes squeezed shut, forehead dropping to your shoulder, and then—then he sank the rest of the way in with one smooth, desperate thrust, burying himself to the hilt in one go like he couldn’t hold back anymore.

and he came.

instantly.

choso’s whole body jerked hard, a raw, choked moan ripping out of him as thick, hot spurts of cum flooded you deep. his cock pulsed and throbbed inside you, emptying everything he had in heavy, uncontrollable waves before he’d even pulled out once. “f-fuck—oh god—” he gasped, voice cracking completely, hips stuttering like he was trying to stop but couldn’t, couldn’t pull away from the overwhelming heat of your pussy squeezing around him. his face burned red, buried deep in the crook of your neck, and you could feel the heat of his embarrassment radiating off his skin as he kept cumming, so much it started leaking out around his shaft even though he was still fully inside.

he was mortified.

“i—i’m sorry,” he whispered, voice small and shaky, almost broken. his arms trembled as they caged you in, like he wanted to disappear but couldn’t bear to leave your body. “i didn’t—fuck, i couldn’t stop it, you just felt so good and i’ve never—i’m so sorry, baby, i ruined it, i’m such an idiot—” his words tumbled out fast and humiliated, muffled against your skin, and you felt one warm tear slip from his eye onto your shoulder. choso never cried, not like this, but the overwhelming rush of pleasure and shame hit him all at once and he couldn’t help it. his cock was still twitching inside you, softening just a little but still so full, still buried deep like he was afraid to face you if he pulled out.

you cupped his face gently, thumbs brushing away the wetness on his cheeks, tilting his head up so you could look into those dark, devastated eyes. “hey, hey, look at me,” you soothed, voice soft and full of love, kissing the corner of his trembling mouth. “you didn’t ruin anything, choso. not even close. that was so hot, feeling you lose it like that just from being inside me.” you clenched around him deliberately, making him hiss and twitch again even though he’d just finished, and a fresh wave of his cum pushed deeper. he whimpered, embarrassed all over again, but you kept kissing him—slow, sweet presses to his lips, his jaw, the tip of his nose. “you’re my first everything too in a way, you know that? first man i’ve ever loved this much. first one who makes me feel this safe and wanted. it’s okay if it’s fast. we’ve got all night. we’ve got forever.”

choso let out this shaky breath, still flushed dark across his cheeks and chest, but the tension in his shoulders eased just a fraction when you rolled your hips underneath him, grinding slow and gentle so his sensitive cock stayed nestled inside your warmth. “you’re not… mad?” he asked, voice barely there, eyes searching yours like he needed the reassurance carved into his soul. you smiled, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck and pulling him down until your bodies were pressed flush, skin to skin, hearts hammering together. “mad? baby, i’m so proud of you. you were so good for me, holding back as long as you could. felt so perfect stretching me open.” you kissed him deeper then, tongue sliding against his until he melted into it, until his hands started roaming again like he was remembering he could still touch you, still please you.

he stayed inside you for long, lazy minutes, just kissing and whispering how much he loved you, how he’d do anything to make it better. his cock softened but never fully left, and every little shift of your hips made him groan softly, oversensitive and still leaking tiny aftershocks of cum. when he finally felt steady enough, choso pulled out slow with this wet, filthy sound that made both of you shiver. he looked down between your legs and flushed even harder at the sight of his release dripping out of you, thick and creamy, but you just pulled him back down and kissed him until he stopped apologizing.

“let me take care of you now,” he murmured against your mouth, voice still a little hoarse but steadier, that intense devotion burning bright again in his eyes. he slid down your body like a man on a mission, hands parting your thighs wide so he could bury his face between them. his tongue was eager and thorough, licking up every drop of himself mixed with your slick like it was the most intimate thing he’d ever done. he moaned into your pussy, the vibrations making your back arch, and when he sucked your clit between his lips you cried out his name so loud it echoed. choso didn’t stop until you were shaking apart under his mouth, thighs clamped around his head, fingers tangled tight in his hair as you came hard and wet all over his tongue.

only then did he crawl back up, lips shiny and swollen, and press back inside you in one smooth glide. this time he lasted longer—much longer—fucking you with these deep, rolling thrusts that built slow and intense, like he was determined to memorize every inch of how you felt around him. his hips snapped harder when you begged, sweat dripping down his chest onto yours, that broken moan of your name falling from his lips every time your walls fluttered. “like this? tell me, baby—tell me how you want it,” he panted, voice raw, and you guided him with your heels digging into his back, with your nails raking down his shoulders, until he was pounding into you so perfectly it felt like he was made for this, made for you.

you came again around him, clenching so tight he almost lost it a second time, but he held on—teeth gritted, forehead pressed to yours, whispering “i love you i love you i love you” like a prayer until you were both trembling and gasping and he finally spilled deep inside you again, this time on purpose, this time with your name on his tongue and your eyes locked on his.

afterward he collapsed half on top of you, arms wrapped around your waist like he never wanted to let go, face tucked into your neck as he caught his breath. “thank you,” he whispered, still a little embarrassed but mostly just full of this quiet, overwhelming love. “for being patient with me. for letting me be yours like this.” you stroked his hair, kissed the top of his head, and held him tighter, bodies still joined, hearts still racing in perfect sync. “always, choso. you’re mine and i’m yours. every first, every time after. all of it.”

he smiled against your skin then, soft and genuine, the kind of smile that made your chest ache with how much you loved him back. and even though his cheeks were still faintly pink from that first overwhelming rush, he didn’t pull away. he just stayed right there inside you, warm and safe and completely yours, ready to learn every single way to make you feel as good as you made him feel. forever.