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head in his hands, he watches chat roll by a million miles a second, all clowning him for the one promise he made that he swore he'd never follow through with. it was a stupid bet, and your incessant laughter in his headset isn't helping, especially when he just watched his dignity disappear under the guise of shiny, fleeting tips and the rush of viewers that would only stick by for his humiliation.
on the bottom corner of his screen deck, the pop-up doesn't lie: he lost this round? he has to swallow a honey pack, whole, live on-stream with you only a room away. sure, it's the fault of you and your terrifyingly competent two-hand aim-fire, but gojo thought that you would lose for him. you always lost against him.
your laugh is sweet and reassuring in his ear, but at the mercy of thousands to hear. it's not genuine; it's the relationship you wave around like a shiny flag, knowing situations like this could have him walking out of a streaming marathon with a hundred thousand in his pocket.
"okay... fuck it— fine! this is what you guys want?!"
gojo wants to bang his head against a wall, especially when the only fleeting words he can catch on his screen are 'yes' and 'do it'.
"you guys are really freaky... you think you're gonna see my boner if i take one?! no, i'm a gentleman."
he sighs into an open palm, then drops his head again in an overwhelmed sigh when they don't let up. gojo doesn't get flustered at work, but he gets flustered for you. he doesn't want to be a further thorn in your side — overtaken with debilitating wood for the last ten hours of this stream- but he gives in, because... of course, he does.
gojo is so fucking overwhelmed. he can see his reflection in the screen deck through his peripheral vision, forehead still in his hands, breathing heavily as he stares at his feet. the entire face cam is blown up for the viewers, blinking a 'just chatting' alert at the bottom of the screen as you interact with the chat like he's not fighting for his life next to you.
almost ten hours through this marathon now, he's exhausted and horny, foot tapping as you press a hand to his knee. his eyes flick manically from his feet, then to yours, absentmindedly trailing up your calf and thigh as you wiggle in your chair. he feels like a teenager, and there are thousands of people still watching.
"how is he?" you squint at the chat screen in your LED-lit setup, squeezing gojo's knee again. "he's terrible, chat." your voice dips into that stupid little people-pleasing one that shouldn't be making gojo insane right now. "he's so bad at faking it — he's down bad."
"turn the camera off." he seethes, that palm twisting into a fist, then to fingers locked at his white roots, pulling at the hair because he can't pull at you.
"huh?" you blink over at him, barely regarding his bowed, tense body language as you talk into your streaming mic. turning back to your chat screen, you choke down a small bout of laughter as the comments keep rolling. you and gojo have been doing this for years — eating, sleeping, and living on stream for thousands to see and talk about. your relationship is your content, so of course, a bunch of touch-starved nobodies are going to put you two in these situations.
now, what they don't know is that gojo doesn't break promises. so, the camera's going to turn off, but not the stream. not when that timer is so close to hitting ten hours — halfway through.
"okay— how quick do you think you can get me off?"
"s-seriously? the stream is still on."
"they can't see or hear us." he's breathless like he just ran a marathon, standing up and lifting his loose shirt to his teeth, biting down on fabric so he can see his hands fumble in his waistband.
if this wasn't so... stupid, you'd be laughing, but all you can really do is just sit back in your chair with a sly, 'I told you so' grin on your face. "you really expect me to get you off on stream?"
"if you loved me or had a heart in the slightest, yeah." gojo's face is flush, the tent in his pants so damning that it's leaking through and staining the crotch in his dark sweats. it's the perfect opportunity to tease him to hell and back if you had all the time in the world, but you don't, and you're not a shitty partner. "please, baby."
and you give in: "yeah... sure, stand up."
now, he's always been a handful, but gojo has never... fucked your face before. it's damn-near animalistic this time — the way his hips snap forward every half-second, both hands pressed to the side of your head as he holds you still.
his moans are obscene and performative, yet totally raw — bouncing off the foam soundboards in the room, right back into his face as he treats your throat as a warm, pulsating toy.
you two abandoned the rolling chair as soon as he got you on a knee for him, just kicking it out of the way so he could pin your back to the front of the desk. the edge is digging into your back, but it's the only thing keeping you steady as he throws his head back and cries your name towards the ceiling.
chat rolls by behind you, talking among themselves and throwing around where you two are behind the 'be right back!' screen. little do they know, gojo has a leg propped up, his cock slick and dripping mess down your chin as he chases an insatiable high in the only one he trusts enough to do this with. the idea of the camera flickering on somehow feels like a further rush to his veins, blocking out all of his common sense as his hips stutter.
gagging as he bottoms out in your throat, fingernails digging into his pale hips, you... almost smile? almost as if you know this wasn't the plan all along.
twenty-hour live-stream marathons aren't fun, but you and forty thousand others were destined to make this one at least memorable.
🪄 2/8
send me some more requests to drabble out. ily forever :p
"nghh! please tell me you're all in," he avoids the question but his ears twitch.
with a slow slide, he bottoms out in you. your lips are pulled taut and thin, glistening as they're stretched wilide.
"hey short stack, you crying?" you don't even notice tears have slipped loose. he cups your face, ears flat in concern.
"does it hurt? i-ill pull out," soft whines bubble from his throat. he leans in, licking away the salt on your cheeks. poor valko, his size feels like an imposition to him.
you shake your head. "move," you tell him. he bites the inside of his cheek before he buries his head into your neck and starts rocking his hips.
you don't know if it's the result of his grueling sets at the gym or just the terrifying width of him, but you swear you feel every hot, pulsing vein running down his shaft dragging against your hyper-sensitive walls with every pump.
"s-so big..." a broken sob slips past your lips at the wet, friction-heavy slide of him.
it's only when he sees your brows drawn in ecstasy that he lets himself indulge in the tight, hot grip of you. your exhausted walls pulse around his too-heavy length.
the slick, crimson tissues cling to him, pulling outward and turning slightly inside-out as they drag along his length.
his gaze moves lower to where he pokes at your tummy from the inside. it has him trembling, halting entirely. his tail stiffens at the sight and then thumps onto the mattress eagerly
"are you going to move or not?"
that's all the permission he needs to fuck like a bitch in heat.
summary: tired of your partners being unable to keep up with your high libido during your heats, you turn to an online matchmaking service for hybrids in-cycle. when the algorithm pairs you with a gorgeous wolf hybrid boasting a 98.6% compatibility match between you, your prey instincts scream in protest, but his predator stamina may prove to be exactly what you've been looking for
Ding! The sudden digital chime cut through the quiet of your room. Your laptop was still glowing with the homepage of KnotAlone, a matching service for hybrids entering their cycles. Even now, your cheeks burned thinking of the exhaustive questionnaire you’d submitted— specifically the humiliating admission that even other rabbit hybrids didn’t satisfy your libido.
You dropped what you were doing immediately in favor of eagerly reading the match report. “Valko Ao,” you read slowly, scrolling down the profile that the website claimed you had a 98.6% compatibility match with.
Your eyebrows shot to your hairline. Not only were you compatible, but numbers like that usually indicated an ideal mate. There was just one glaring concern on his profile: he was a wolf hybrid.
Your inner prey instincts shrieked in protest. Yet, as you stared at the attached photo, your throat went dry. With his sharp jawline, striking eyes, and furry burgundy ears poking through his hair, the man was undeniably gorgeous.
Worse, his profile had a warning listed: Lupine genes present extreme rut cycles. Past cycles managed via pharmaceuticals due to high stamina projections.
So, he’s never had a partner, you thought. A pent-up predator didn’t bode well, especially not to a bunny. Even so, according to the warning, he had the exact untapped reservoir of energy that you needed to get through your insatiable heats. It certainly didn’t hurt that he was breathtakingly easy on the eyes.
A sudden, sharp throb low in your belly shattered your hesitation. The early waves of your heat were beginning to roll in, warming your skin and sending a restless twitch through your elongated ears. You didn’t have the luxury of time, especially not to second-guess the man that, admittedly, exacerbated the effects of your impending heat.
Shifting your finger across the touchpad of your laptop, you slammed the Accept Pairing button before the more logical side of your brain could talk you out of it.
In an instant, the screen flashed with a bold, celebratory notification: MATCH CONFIRMED!
A soft gasp escaped your lips. He had already accepted. Before your mind could fully process that little fact, a new interface slid into view.
KnotAlone Chatroom: Valko and You
The text bubble at the bottom of the screen was already bouncing, the three dots doing their usual rhythmic dance before disappearing, replaced by a message that was surprisingly warm for an apex predator.
Valko Ao: Hello! So glad you accepted the match. To be honest, I was worried my profile statistics would scare people off.
You blinked at the screen, intrigued. His message was devoid of the growling dominance and arrogance you had come to expect from predator hybrids. Another message came through before you formulated a response.
Valko Ao: Your profile mentioned needing someone who can match your stamina, right? That works out perfectly. My doctors always insisted that my rut cycles are too intense for a standard pairing, so I’ve just been using suppressants up until now. I’d love to help you through your heat if you’ll have me. When does your cycle start?”
You bit your lip, fingers hovering over the keyboard as a flush crawled up your neck. It was one thing to fill out personal info on a questionnaire, but it was another to openly share with another person.
You: within the next two days at least. Already feeling the warning signs :/
Valko Ao: that’s fine! I can clear my schedule right away.
His easy, accommodating response did wonders for your nerves. Over the next two days, the anticipated dread of your impending heat transformed into something entirely different. Valko texted you constantly, sending jokes, asking about your personal preferences and hobbies, and sharing bits of his own life. By the time the warning signs had become full-blown symptoms, you found that you were genuinely excited to meet him, even if the circumstances weren’t the most ideal.
You woke on the third morning drenched in sweat, your skin hypersensitive to every little touch. Your panties were already soaked and sticking to your swollen folds. It was pitiful, really, how quickly you were made a slave to your own biology, no more able to fight it than you were able to count the stars in the sky.
With a shaky hand, you reached for your phone on the nightstand, shooting Valko a simple text, followed by your address.
You: I need you
He replied almost instantly, informing you that he was on his way. With a groan, you dropped your phone onto the bed, curling into yourself and wishing you could sleep away the scorching need coursing through your body. It felt like mere minutes had passed when a knock echoed through your apartment.
You stumbled from your bed to the door, unlocking it and swinging it open to see Valko standing in the hallway, his ears twitching almost nervously. Before he could even say hello, he froze. The combination of seeing you in such a vulnerable state and smelling the sweet, heady scent that seeped from your apartment had rendered him speechless, his mouth watering and his cock already hardening in his pants.
He swallowed thickly. For a fraction of a second, Valko tried to hold onto his manners, but the more of you he inhaled, the more he felt like a wolf rather than a man. He opened his mouth to greet you, fighting every urge to pin you to the wall of the entryway and take you there, but his throat constricted and his body locked up.
You could see in the rigid set of his posture that he was at least trying to be a gentleman, but you didn’t want a gentleman at the moment. You needed him rough, and you needed him now.
While he was still trying to pull himself together in the doorway, you tugged him in by the fabric of his shirt, the door slamming closed behind him. He stumbled forward, his polite composure crumbling to dust under your touch. You practically dragged him through your apartment to your bedroom, and his hand hovered over your waist.
“I’m Valko,” he finally managed, his voice raspy as his eyes locked onto the way you were already pulling your shirt over your head.
You giggled at that, and Valko thought it was the prettiest sound he had ever heard.
“I sure hope so.” He flushed, embarrassment crawling up his spine. Obviously you knew who he was. You wouldn’t have let him in otherwise. He blamed it on your intoxicating scent. It was muddling his brain and making it impossible to focus on anything that wasn’t you. You, who was now wrapping your arms around his shoulders and mouthing at his neck, pressing your body flush against his.
Before he could even think, his strong arms landed on your hips, pushing you back slightly to make space. You pouted, and he suddenly felt like a world-class villain.
“Easy, sweetheart. I’m gonna help you,” he soothed, pushing you backwards until the bed hit the back of your knees. You fell onto the plush on the mattress, bouncing slightly. Your breath quickened. Through the haze of your arousal, you were vaguely aware that you had invited a predator into your home. You were also acutely aware that even the worst of your heat cycles had never affected you as much as the hulking man that was guiding your pliant body to lie against the pillows.
“So pretty,” he murmured, his hands ghosting over your bare skin, his fingertips skimming the lacy fabric of your bra. It was almost painful, the way his cock was straining against his pants.
You placed your hand atop his, guiding it to cup your breast. “You don’t have to be sweet, you know?”
He locked eyes with you, searching for any hesitation or reservations, and found none, only pure want and need. He surged forward, capturing your lips with his. It was messy, all teeth and tongue and unrestrained instinct.
You arched your body into his, your hips grinding against the bulge in his slacks. He groaned into the kiss, his hands shooting down to hook into the waistband of your shorts and panties, pulling both down in one firm tug. Your bra followed shortly after, leaving you entirely bare beneath him. God, you were a fucking vision.
The whimper he let out was pathetic, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when a pretty little bunny was completely offering herself to him. Your hands were everywhere, sliding beneath his shirt, stroking his ears, palming his leaking cock. Wherever you could reach.
He reluctantly pulled away from you once more, just long enough to strip his own clothing. His impressive build had you salivating, and your weeping pussy clenched around nothing in anticipation as he resumed his spot above you, your legs on either side of his hips.
“Please, Valko, please I need you,” you practically sobbed, staring up at him with watery eyes. Valko’s heart thundered in his chest, a possessive pang shooting through his chest.
It was too much. Your desperate pleading, your legs spread for him, your cunt on display just for him. It was maddening. He lined himself up with your pulsing hole, and you keened, eager to finally be filled, pushing your hips up to force him deeper.
You were dripping, his thick cock stretching you with ease as he sunk all the way to the hilt. You moaned loudly, your fingers clawing into the sheets. He was so big you swore you could feel him in your throat.
“So tight,” he groaned deeply, nearly growling. He was already panting and he’d only just begun. “You feel so— ngh—good.”
You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him into you like you never wanted him to leave. “More, Valko, pleasepleaseplease,” you begged, urging him to move, to touch you, anything that would quell the wanton need that radiated from your core.
His hips snapped into yours, the blunt head of his cock molding your insides around him. It took everything he had not to cum prematurely. Your pussy gripped him like a vice, and he was sure this was as close to heaven as a man could get.
The delicious drag of his cock had you beyond words, only able to cry out with pleasure every time his hips met yours. Your breath was ragged as he pounded into your slick hole, and your fingernails left red claw marks on his shoulders that he would later marvel at in the mirror.
“So perfect,” Valko breathed. “Made just for me.” His face was flushed a magnificent shade of his red, and his eyes were heavily lidded, drawn to the juncture where your bodies met, your slick leaking around his cock and soaking the bedsheets.
You cried out his name, the edge of pleasure so tantalizingly close. His name fell from your lips like a mantra, spurring him on, his thrusts losing their rhythm and becoming frantic. He was already swelling at the base, but he’d be damned if he embarrassed himself and finished before you. Inexperienced though he was, he wasn’t a total prude.
He brought his thumb to circle your neglected clit, sending pleasure shooting up your spine. You squealed, arching into his touch, your pussy spasming tightly around him as your vision went white.
Valko gasped, his own release overtaking him. Hot spurts of cum flooded your fluttering walls, and his swollen knot kept it all plugged snugly inside you and kept you connected to each other.
Your vision was hazy, and for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, you actually felt sated, at least for the time being until your body again demanded more of him.
Quiet settled over the room, save for the twin sounds of your heavy breaths. Valko grinned broadly, a chuckle rumbling through his chest as he dropped his forehead onto yours, nuzzling his nose against your face. Behind him, his heavy tail thumped against the mattress.
It was comforting to be wrapped in such strong arms and taken care of, but the peace was short-lived; your body, in its current state, was already squirming beneath him for friction.
Valko groaned deeply, still sensitive from his release only minutes prior, but the thick smell of your pheromones was pulling him into renewed lust right along with you.
Whether it was with your knees pressed to your chest, from behind where he could watch your cute little tail twitch, or holding you on his lap to fuck up into you, he couldn't get enough of you or the sinful sounds you made when he was buried deep inside you. It was hours before he collapsed onto the bed beside you, his cum dripping down your thighs and a satisfied grin on his face as he took in how thoroughly wrecked you looked all because of him.
As your breathing finally slowed, Valko pulled you into his embrace, clawed fingers stroking up and down your back soothingly. “Are you okay? Was that alright?” he asked, his voice rough and vibrating against your skin.
“I’m perfect,” you rasped, burying your face in his chest, your heart swelling at his genuine care. “Better than perfect. I can see why your profile had a warning on it,” you laughed, recalling the words of caution on his profile.
He let out a soft, pleased sound, his arms tightening around you as if he had absolutely no intention of leaving the bed—or your life—anytime soon. It was like your scent had completely rewired the primitive part of his brain, the part that was now claiming you as his own despite the brief acquaintance. Though, to be fair, you had done more than what typical acquaintances do. He didn't think he could be satisfied being just your heat partner.
A flush crawled up his neck as he debated with himself, his wolf ears twitching nervously, but there was no time like the present. “That’s good. I’m glad I didn't disappoint.” He hesitated, the words he truly wanted to say sticking in his throat. It didn't help that you were looking up at him with wide, inquisitive eyes. Now that his more animalistic side had been satisfied and your scent wasn't sending him into a frenzy, he could take the time to admire just how delicate your features were.
“I know we still have a few days left to get through, and I’m not going anywhere, but when this is over, would you want to go on a proper date with me?”
His words had barely even registered before a bright smile lit up your face, and sweet giggles spilled from your lips. You nodded, your long ears shifting with the movement.
Valko grinned widely, his sharp teeth on display, both relieved and overjoyed that this had the potential to become more than just a means to satisfy your respective biological instincts. A playful glint flashed in his eyes as he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead, already planning where to take you. His mind filled with images of you—dressed up all pretty and soft and entirely his.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
author's note. first post in two years. wooow. anyways. i'm hella rusty so sorry in advance if it's obvious...also i only proofread the first half. but it's nice to be back ! hope you enjoy xox.
"why'd you break up with him? thought his dick was eight inches."
"eight and a half," you correct shoko automatically, staring at her phone dumbly as a video of your ex-boyfriend dragging a mic stand across a stage plays on repeat.
three months ago, you dumped satoru gojo, rockstar heartthrob and the dealer of the best sex you’d ever had. and maybe it’s because you always want what you can’t have, but fuck, has he looked good ever since. you can see the muscle definition of his arms through the black leather jacket, the ones that used to hold you down while he— nope.
you flip the phone over and set it down on the restaurant table with a soft clack, forcing away the thoughts of getting dicked down by your ex. "god, his ego was so big," you mutter, fighting to think about the reason you broke up instead of why you would’ve stayed.
"wasn't the only big thing, apparently," shoko mutters under her breath, and you give her a sullen look. "what? you're the one who said it. eight and a half," she says, mimicking your voice. her lips twitch with a smile as you groan and bury your face in your hands.
"i hate him," you mumble, voice muffled by your hands. it's not true. you just hate that you can't stop thinking about him. he's been blocked for three months since you dumped him, although that hasn't done anything for the hole in your heart...or in between your legs.
shoko raises her eyebrows back at you, fishing a cigarette out of her pocket and flicking a lighter once, twice before it catches. "sure you do. and i’m the prime minister of japan."
for a long second, the only sounds are the soft exhale of smoke from her lips and the idle, bustling sounds of the restaurant you’re sitting in. eventually, you peek at her from in between your fingers. "shoko, do you have any hot friends?"
"yeah. why?" when your eyes light up, she snorts and shakes her head, taking a drag from the lit cigarette. "oh, please. nobody wants to be the rebound after the 6'3 rockstar boyfriend. i wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy." she laughs when you groan and drop your face back in your hands.
after a long second, you mumble, "6'3 and a half."
-
when you get home, it's around midnight, and god, are you horny.
all that talk about your famous, rich, big ex-boyfriend has you pulling out your phone and opening up his instagram. it’s blocked, a souvenir of when you had more self-restraint. right now, though, you barely hesitate before unblocking him.
his page is littered with pictures and videos of him on tour, and it's like a feast for hungry eyes. him on his knees in a leather jacket, him practically moaning into a microphone, him holding a guitar above his head, and fuck, you can tell he knows he looks good. but no matter how big his dick is, it'll never get even close to the size of his ego.
you hate yourself for slipping one of your hands down and under your somehow-already-soaked panties, and you shudder at the feeling of your fingers over your clit. if he ever finds out how soaked you've gotten just from seeing a video of him dragging a mic stand across stage, he'd never let you hear the end of it.
two of your fingers circle your clit, and you let out a half-suppressed moan as you feel a growing sensation of pleasure in your core. you slip a finger inside your pussy, trying to draw out any feeling you can, but all you can really think about is how much better it felt when gojo did it.
you remember his fingers like they’re your own (which, unfortunately, they are not)—long and slender, slightly calloused from years of playing the guitar. you’ve seen them knuckle-deep inside of your pussy, soaked and sticky from drawing out multiple orgasms out of you, and you’ve licked them clean more times than you can count.
a drawn-out, slightly exaggerated gasp leaves your lips as your own smaller fingers work over your clit, as if to compensate for your hands being a sorry substitute for gojo's. you watch as his fingers expertly strum a guitar on your phone screen, and fuck, you’ve never been more jealous of an instrument in your life.
after minutes of manually forcing it out with aching, sticky fingers, your orgasm isn't satisfying in the slightest. none of them have been for the past three months. that's the bad part about ex-boyfriends like gojo. they spoil you stupid, making you feel like heaven on earth. and when they're gone, you can never really forget how good the high felt. why’d you break up with him again?
your head drops back onto your pillow as you let out a long exhale, eyes fluttering close and sore fingers stilling over your soaked entrance. after a second, you open an eye to the still-playing video of him on your phone.
oh, shit.
you scramble to unlike the video, which, somehow, had ended up liked, probably from your finger slipping while you were pathetically trying to cum to it. the red heart quickly disappears, and your heart rate increases (more than it did while you were fingering yourself, actually) as you pray he didn’t see the notification.
thirty seconds pass. he'd have to be a realllll loser to notice you liking and unliking the post in amidst his never-ending flood of notifications.
…but unfortunately for you, your ex is just as pathetic as you are. right as you start to relax, you get a notification from a contact named DO NOT ANSWER.
like what you see?
you can picture him smirking at his phone like the lowlife, good-for-nothing loser you know he is. he's probably pushing his dyed-white hair back (who dyes their hair white anyways?), since you remember it'd always get in the way of his eyes. god, he had eyes you'll never forget. ice-blue and, truthfully, a little terrifying, but the way they'd look at you while you rode him on a saturday night after a show will forever be tattooed in your heart.
you groan and click on the notification, staring at it with a mix of self-hatred and...gojo-hatred, i guess? his contact name stares back at you, a stark, bold warning set against the backdrop of your old messages with the only ex-boyfriend who could convince you to run it back, especially like this, with your fingers still on your soaked, needy entrance that’s practically aching for him inside of it.
two minutes pass with you just staring at his message. then, a second one appears.
don't be shy. i miss you too.
as if that wasn't bad enough, a third message comes soon after.
want me to come over?
since obviously you have dignity and self-control, you type out a reply you’d be proud of—no. go fuck yourself. don't text me ever again—but when you hit send, your text looks...well, a little different. gojo replies in a second.
that's what i thought. see you in 15. wear something cute for me, yeah?
-
you forgot how good he was at turning you on.
that's a lie. you didn't forget. in fact, it's all you've been thinking about since you told him you two were over. most 6'3 guys don't know how to handle all that, and think that just because they're big and tall, they're automatically good at sex (which, by the way, isn't true!), but, for lack of better wording, gojo knows his shit.
that's why you're currently getting fingered by him in your own bed, moaning his name like you weren't the one who dumped him. it's infuriating how good he is at this. two of his fingers are inside you, moving back and forth as his thumb rubs maddeningly slow circles over your clit.
and barely sixty seconds in, and you’re already ten times as loud and desperate than when it was your fingers.
"shitttt, oh, yeah, you feel so good," he groans, staring down at the way you clench around his fingers with every pump of them inside you. his pupils are blown wide, fixed on where he’s knuckle-deep inside your dripping pussy.
he groans again, unable to tear his eyes away. it feels good, so much better than whatever sorry substitute you've been trying to give yourself for the past three months. his fingers, calloused and rough, feel achingly familiar, and you have to fight to keep yourself from cumming barely a minute in.
you swallow back what was about to be an embarassingly loud moan, and barely force yourself to talk in a somewhat-steady voice. "why do you sound like that?" you manage to get out. you're only talking to distract from the fact that you're pathetically close to squirting all over his six-inch fingers.
"fuck you mean, why do i sound like that? like what?" he responds, raising an eyebrow. his eyes briefly flit to meet yours. his tongue skates over his lips, wetting them slightly, before he bites his bottom lip and presses his thumb a little harder over your swollen clit.
"ngh, fuuuck— i dunno, like, raspy,” you barely manage to get out. “have you been smoking?" it's a stupid question. you know why his voice is raspy. it's not uncommon for his voice to be like this the night after a show, and you had always said it was hot back when you were still together.
gojo knows you know, too, and that you're just asking to give your mouth something to do besides moan his name. he widens his eyes at you patronizingly. "my job requires that i fuck up my throat every other night. i get paid to sound like this," he says, emphasizing his words by spreading his fingers inside of you, pushing and stretching your walls and forcing out a lewd moan from your lips. "why do you sound like that?"
you bite your lip in a failed attempt to stop yourself from gasping as his fingers prod even deeper inside of you. "like what?"
he snorts. "like a fuckin' pornstar. swear i used to have to work harder for this," he says, curling his fingers up inside of you and drawing out a loud, breathy moan from your lips. "jesus, have you not gotten laid since we broke up?"
silence.
when you don't answer, he grins like a kid in a candy store. "y'know, i was gonna call you a slut 'cause you're sooo wet sooo fast, but turns out, you're the opposite. someone's been missing her ex, hasn't she?"
you hate him. you hate his cocky smile, the one that's his trademark as a rockstar. you hate his stupid eyes, which are annoyingly easy to get lost in. you hate that he spoiled you so bad that nothing else can turn you on quite like he could. and god, you hate that you can't think of anything but him and his long, slender fingers stretching your gummy walls wiiiide open.
"don't be shy, angel. look at me." with his free hand, he tilts your chin towards him, forcing you to meet his eyes. he holds your gaze for a couple seconds, lips quirking up into a smile as he studies your face. "won't lie, i got around in the past couple months. lots of pretty girls..." he says casually, and he suddenly pulls his fingers out of your soaked pussy, leaving you clenching around nothing.
he lifts his hand to his lips, licking his fingers clean of your slick, and you almost moan out loud from the sight. his voice drops, a hint of authenticity bleeding through the ego. "...but, shit, baby. it's just not the same. think we know each other too well."
well, fuck. you can tell he's being serious, despite the lingering amusement in his eyes as he watches you stare. you don't answer immediately, unsure what to say to that. when it's clear he's not going to do anything until you respond, you exhale softly and mumble, "i guess."
"yeah, you can't relate, you fuckin' priest," he mutters, dipping his head and spitting a wad of saliva on your glistening pussy. he drags his index finger over your entrance, pushing his spit inside of you. when your breath hitches, his lips twitch with a smile. "how long were you planning to go without getting fucked, pretty girl? your whole life?"
you choke on a gasp as he pushes a finger back inside of you, mixing his saliva with your slick. "a-are you gonna actually fuck me or do i have to call someone else?" you ask, stuttering against your will. his fingers feel good, so good, but you feel like you’ll die if you don’t get his dick inside of you.
"oh, now she wants to call up her roster," gojo deadpans, curling the single finger he has inside of you upwards and grinning as he feels your dripping pussy practically suck him in. "who's next in line, sweetheart? is it that fossil i hate, toji fishy…whatever?"
"fushiguro," you correct automatically, and gojo rolls his eyes, not caring what his name is. all he cares is that it's not him. "and no," you confirm a second later. he nods approvingly, adding in another finger, as if to reward you for giving him the answer he wants to hear.
"good. wait, fuck, is it that pink-haired freak?" he groans, thinking of someone else. his two fingers inside of you pulse in and out of your wet, slick-soaked walls, flexing and pushing you apart as he interrogates you on a roster that doesn't exist. "the one with the tattoos. what's his name? suck-a-nut or something?"
you gawk at him, momentarily snapping out of the sex-crazed haze his fingers have induced from you. "are you serious?"
gojo mimicks your facial expression back at you, and pulls his fingers out with a soft pop. he lifts his fingers to your lips this time, coaxing your mouth open and letting you taste a mix of yourself and him. "if you're gonna fuck someone else, they better not be unemployed or have lame tattoos. now shut up and roll over."
-
"relaaax. you're too pretty to be this fuckin' tense."
easier said than done. it's impossible for you to relax when he's pushing your face into the pillow with one hand and aligning his dick with your gushing pussy with the other. he teasingly drags his flushed, heavy tip over your wet entrance, cracking a smile when your breath audibly hitches.
your mouth drops open when he gets bored of teasing and actually pushes inside, and you remember exactly why it was so insanely hard to break up with him. you moan his name as he eases his way inside, slowly giving you inch after inch. it takes all of his willpower to not just force it all in at once, since you're all warm and sticky and so, so wet. but, for your sake, he’s determined to take his time.
"yeah, you like that, don't ya?" he grits out, biting back a low groan of his own at how you're stretched out underneath him. he has a view to die for, and he has to swallow to stop himself from drooling at the sight of all of you bent over for him, giving him the perfect view of your back, waist, and ass. he reaches over to the nightstand and fumbles with his phone for a second, opening the camera app and taking a photo from his eye-level.
you look back at him over your shoulder at the sound of the camera shutter. he cracks a lopsided smile down at you, taking another, this time with your face in it. "view's sooo nice from here, baby. had to take a pic."
he turns the phone so you can see what you look like to him. if you didn't know that was you, you could've sworn it was a screenshot of some porno.
your eyes are half-rolled back in your head, and your lips are parted slightly, glistening with the lingering traces of your slick and his saliva. from that angle, the arch in your back looks heavenly, and his camera's somehow captured all of that and the plush curve of your ass around his dick.
"pretty girl. i'm saving that for later," he says, giving the photo one last glance before shutting off his phone and tossing it back on the nightstand. "ah, shit, where were we?"
he suddenly moves his hips forward, and you moan reactively. "fuuuck, satoru," you whine, burying your face back in the pillow to muffle the embarrassing amount of high-pitched sounds that threaten to come out of your lips.
the feeling of him stretching you open is unreal. you're so full, and he's not even all the way inside. there's still a couple inches to go, and you're already a stuttering mess underneath him, mewling his name like it's the only word you know.
"jus' a little more, you got it," he groans, self-inflicted tension holding his limbs tight as he fights to not just shove himself in the rest of the way. you'd probably snap in half, and that's a lot less fun that what he has planned for you.
he pushes in the last one or two inches, now buried to the hilt inside of your sticky, gummy walls. "you feel s'good," he grits out, voice tight with restraint. "shiiiit. you good, angel?"
your face is still buried in the pillows, eyes shut as you fight to suppress the sweet, high-pitched gasps that every movement from him elicits. "y-yeah," you manage to get out, although it's more a moan than a word.
gojo laughs breathily and gives your ass a slap, just hard enough to sting. he gives the same spot a squeeze, massaging your skin before starting to move back and forward inside you, dragging his flushed length against your gummy walls.
fuck, he’s big. even though his lengthy fingers flexed you wide open before this, you still let out muffled, high-pitched whimpers against the white fabric of the pillow as he rocks back and forth, sliding in and out of your stretched-out pussy. you’re wet and so, so welcoming, fitting his length like a glove, all snug and perfect for him.
“so fuckin’ whiny,” gojo groans, hand moving to the back of your neck and sliding into your hair. he lifts your head a little, drawing your mouth away from the pillow. “don’t hide from me, baby. ‘s been three months, don’t torture me any longer.”
without the pillow to hide behind, your moans might as well come through a megaphone from how loud and how lewd they are. you haven’t been properly fucked in months, and now, you’re suddenly getting the best dick of your life.
you bite your lip as he continues ramming into you from the back, making you wobble with every thrust. “ohhhmygod,” you moan out, biting your lip to try and suppress the embarrassingly loud whimpers that keep escaping your lips. it does nothing to quiet them down, though, especially as gojo shifts the angle to push into you even deeper. “feels s’good, right there,” you gasp deleriously, eyes rolling into the back of your head.
your lips are swollen from how hard you’ve bitten them, and as he continues stuffing you full and deep, you bounce back against him, letting your pussy do the thinking.
one gojo’s hands rests on your ass while the other one remains wrapped around your hair, preventing you from burying your face in the pillow. he gives it a tug, groaning your name like a prayer when it makes you moan.
“fuuuuck, baby, taking it so well,” he grits out, and he shifts his grip on your hair and pushes your face down into the pillow as his thrusts start to become less controlled and more erratic. “‘s like you were made for me,” he says breathlessly, a half-laugh slipping out of his lips as he gets sloppier with his movements.
you hear him swallow, and although your face is currently stuffed into the pillow, you can imagine how he must look. cheeks all red and flushed, eyelashes fluttering, and his white hair’s probably slicked with sweat and sticking to his forehead. he lets out a sound that you swear is a whimper as he continues fucking you, but your lips are too occupied with making loud, high-pitched sounds of your own to point it out.
he can’t tear his eyes away from you, and the way you’re so willingly bent over and arched for him, as if you hadn’t been the one to tell him you two were over. “bet you missed this, yeah?” he says, a hint of the familiar cockiness you’ve grown to love and hate in his voice. your only reply is a lewd moan into the pillows, which he takes as a yes. “attagirl. that’s what i thought.”
the hand that’s been gripping your ass squeezes tighter as he fucks you harder and deeper, chasing the high that he remembers came from making you all dumb and pliant underneath him. you’re practically being plowed into the mattress, but you’re so inviting, legs spread wide open for him, that he can’t bring himself to care about anything but the wet hole in front of him.
you’re just as single-minded as he is, unable to form a single thought that isn’t just about him. the never-ending stream of gasps and moans from your swollen lips are like music to gojo’s ears, and as your eyes flutter shut and you fully give up any last claim you had to dignity, all you can wonder is god, how did you go without this for three whole months?
“p-please, just like that,” you whine, not caring that you’re stuttering in a way he’ll definitely make fun of you for later. you’re so stuffed full of him, core tightening as you feel a wave of pleasure coming your way in the form of the first satisfying orgasm you’ll have had in months. “‘m close, ngh—”
“yeah, baby?” he asks, feeling you tighten around him as your hands kittenishly grasp at the sheets. his dick slides back and forth against your slick walls as he fucks you into the mattress, making the springs squeal with every movement. “fuck, me too,” he groans, giving your ass another slap and watching it recoil as his thrusts become even sloppier than before.
“wait, shit, you still on the pill?” he asks, momentarily loosening his grip on your hair to let you turn your head. when you nod, his hand tightens again, and he pushes your face back into the pillow, a low groan slipping out of his lips as he continues rolling his hips again you, using your wet, sloppy mess of a pussy to chase his release.
when he pulls out an orgasm from you, it’s downright filthy. “ohhhmygod—” you moan, gasping for air and pushing back onto his length as he coaxes out your release.
the second the tension in your stomach snaps, your limbs stop working and you go limp beneath him, reduced to nothing but a pretty doll as your brain shutters off too. the stimulation has your brain going dumb, nothing in your skull but the waves of pleasure that he’s drawn out of you. even as he continues fucking you through your orgasm, moaning into the pillow, you can’t help think that you don’t care what he does, his dick’s too good to let go of again.
you haven’t came that hard in three months, and it looks like he hasn’t either.
he whines your name when he cums inside of you just seconds later. it’s hot and floods your insides as his hips continue their jerky motions, burying his white, sticky release deep inside of you. high-pitched sounds that almost sound like whimpers slip out of his lips as his eyes roll into the back of his head, lost in the pleasure that is your pretty pussy.
eventually, he stops rutting against you, chest heaving as he just stays buried inside of you for a moment longer, feeling how your gummy walls clench around his still-hard dick. his breathing is noticeably shakier than normal, and for once in his life, it seems like he doesn’t have any words to say.
after a long second of silence, where there isn’t any sounds except for your synchronized, heavy breaths, he speaks. “good girl. don’t think i coulda pulled out anyways,” he mumbles as he pulls out of your limp body and maneuvers you onto your back.
his lips are curved into a cheeky, satisfied smile as he observes your face, drinking in your fluttering eyelashes and slightly-parted lips. he looks just as sex-crazed, ears bright red and lips wet with his own saliva. he pushes your knees apart, licking his lips as he hungrily stares down at his cum dripping out of your pussy.
“we’re doing that again.” his eyes flick from the wet, sticky entrance in between your thighs to your face. after a second, he leans down, eyes fluttering closed as his lips meet yours in a sloppy kiss, tongue slipping into your mouth and pushing against yours. he moans against your lips, and when he pulls away, a string of saliva connects your mouths.
“n’ this time, i wanna see your face while i’m inside you.”
-
when he finally collapses on top of you, cheeks coated with a red blush and eyes half-lidded, your whole body’s sore beyond belief. somewhere, in the back of your mind, you wonder if you’ll have to call off from work tomorrow…or is it today? you have no idea how long you’ve been under him.
"ya know, you don't have to get off to my fuckin’ instagram feed," gojo says, rolling off of you and shooting you a lopsided grin. he pushes his sweat-slicked hair back from his forehead, chest heaving. "text me anytime. hell, just show up at my door. you're not the only one always thinking about their hot ex."
you limply lift your hand and run your fingers over your collarbone, feeling the indents of a bite mark he had left on your skin, that’ll no doubt leave a dark bruise for you to hide. “m’kay,” is all you say in response, as you close your eyes exhaustedly. after a second, you mumble, “you staying the night?”
your eyes remain closed, but you can hear gojo shake his head. "nah. i got a show today," he says with a sigh, sitting up and groaning. “if i stay with you, i’ll probably miss it.”
“wouldn’t be the first time,” you mutter, and you swear you can hear the slightest laugh slip out of his lips as his weight lifts off the mattress. it’s true. back when you two were dating, incidents like this had definitely caused him to be late to a couple shows. he never seemed all that guilty about it, though.
there’s a soft rustle of fabric, presumably from gojo slipping back into his clothes as he starts to head out. “take care, angel,” is the last thing you hear from him before the door shuts and his footsteps fade away, and with it, your consciousness.
-
later that night, your phone buzzes.
attachment: 1 photo
thanks for the view, pretty. same time tomorrow?
if shoko ieiri were to be honest with herself, she never thought she’d unearthed these sadistic tendencies—that was before she started sleeping with you. it was supposed to be a transactional arrangement, two colleagues purely in for the release. yet, when you first asked her to put out her post-sex cigarette on your skin, her hand didn’t even waver.
her discarded bra (a new, lacy black one at that. who would’ve guessed she’d started selecting sexier ones for when you come over?) lay as a crushed heap beneath her ass as she leaned over you. shoko watched the cherry of the cigarette glow, a tiny, localised sun, before the contact and the searing pressure. you drew a sharp intake of breath, while hers remained bated. the air grew thick with the charcoal-like, acrid drift of singed flesh and tobacco, mingling with the tangy sweet musk of female sex.
shoko traced the perimeter of the fresh welt of her own making, and the dissonance made her head swim. her fingers, so intimately acquainted with the restorative flow of reverse cursed energy, hesitated briefly over the damage before snapping out of it. a healer by nature and by duty, yet she found a sick fascination in the harm she inflicted. found herself staring at the spot where the burn had been, mourning the vanished hurt, waiting for the one time you might finally catch her wrist and whisper for her to leave you scarred, to leave you hers—without the cleansing, mercy of her gift.
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⌗ 𝓼atoru gojo coos you over the edge ! (˶˃𐃷˂˶) based off this (not a p!link), unprotected p in v, whipped!gojo, praise, pet names (baby/babygirl, sweetheart, angel)
the sounds in the once quiet room are obscene— breathy moans, loud squelching with each precise thrust of gojo's hips, and the bed frame thunking against the wall.
he's so deep inside you, you feel him in your throat. all you can do is claw at his broad back desperately, leaving angry red marks in your wake. "toru– ohfuck--!" you're struggling to catch your breath, "s'too much!" his pace is unrelenting, so the least he can do is talk you through it.
"m'sorry, babygirl, i know" his breath fans over your skin as he coos at you so sweetly, a direct opposite to the way he's fucking into you. "s'big, huh?" he's practically cradling you, holding you so close to his chest that you feel his heart beating a frantic rhythm against yours.
he pulls your face from hiding in the crook of his neck all to press gentle, reverent kisses over your flushed skin. "my precious girl," he praises, "doin' so good for me, my perfect baby" he moans softly when he feels your pussy flutter around him at his sweet words.
"there you go, you like that?" his voice isn't teasing in the slightest, all genuine loving words, all reserved for you.
that familiar heat is growing low in your belly, his cock hitting your g-spot only intensifying the pressure. "m'close– g'na make me cum--" you manage to breathe out some resemblance of a sentence, through his overwhelming affection and each word coming out as a moan, talking proves to be a bit difficult.
"yeah?" his voice is low and smooth, "y'can't help it, i know sweetheart," he rubs your arm tenderly, "gonna help you, okay? can i do that baby?" you can tell just how enamored he is by you, speaking to you and loving on you like you're the only person in the world, gazing at you like you hung the stars just for him.
you nod dumbly, not caring to ask what he means with how fucked-out you are, brain a pile of mush. before you can compute, he snakes his hand down between the two of you and finds your puffy folds, spreading them. you gasp, hands squeezing at his biceps. "s'okay" he reassures you, thumb finding your sensitive clit and rubbing tight circles on the bud.
it's enough to make you cry out in pleasure, enough to make you gush around his cock. gojo groans at the feeling, watching your expression in pure awe. "i know, baby" his pace never falters, so close to the edge himself. "there you go, let it all out–" his balls tighten up as he hits his peak, still holding you close, wanting there to be no space between the two of you. he fucks into you a few last times while spilling his warm release deep inside of you, a heady feeling.
he nearly pants, not bothering to pull out when he flops down beside you and pulls you to lay on his chest. you're worn out, and thoroughly satisfied. "did so good, sweet girl" he's smiling, cooing at you and scratching your back soothingly. you simply hum in response, words failing you.
he lets out a chuckle, "my sleepy angel..." his cheesy words could make you laugh if you weren't so spent, so you settle on curling into the comfort of him further, letting him pamper you with his voice.
as you both doze off, you swear you can hear him whisper a little "love you", and you know he means it. because you're all his, and he's all yours.
sneaking around with best friend!geto is all fun and games until pretty girls start feeling up his biceps at the bar :(
“someone jealous?” gojo snickered in your ear, slinking up by your side as he waved the bartender over to order another obnoxiously fruity and brightly-colored beverage while you nursed your own suddenly bitter drink.
“yeah, you,” you sarcastically muttered, refusing to feed into his (correct) suspicions that you were sleeping with your mutual friend. the year you’d spent between geto’s sheets didn’t make you his girlfriend though.
not that you ever asked to be either.
“come on,” he goaded, his hip bumping into yours as he cocked his head towards where geto was currently getting groped by a manicured hand. “i know you want to pry him away.”
“so you can grab him next?” you teased, trying to deflect as you twisted around just for his hand to cage you in between his broad frame and the bar top. his pretty blue eyes were fuzzy though, pupils blown wide as you realized that maybe what he’d been sipping on tonight weren’t mocktails after all.
“nah,” he grinned, white teeth glinting as he leaned in lower. “think i’d rather grab you.”
“how much have you had to drink?” you exhaled, eyes drifting down to his glossy lips, lingering there a little longer than they should.
“enough to want a taste of you,” he shamelessly smirked at his attempt to be seductive, his palm sliding up your side as if it always had a place there.
you’d never taken any of his flirting seriously.
but maybe you should’ve.
considering whether or not imploding your situationship over sleeping with your other friend as gojo’s fingertips gracefully slipped down to disappear underneath your dress.
“you’re touching something of mine,” a honeyed voice interrupted with a drawn-out huff, but gojo didn’t pull away.
and a new idea blossomed, your mouth curling up as you glanced between the two men too busy glaring at each other to notice the sparkle in your stare.
what better way to punish your man by showing him just how swiftly a certain someone else would swoop in to steal you?
“boys,” you hummed, clicking your tongue. “don’t you know how nice Paris is right now?”
sukuna doesn't just like to argue with you. he likes to lose.
masterlist
wc: 5.7k
this is 5.7k words of straight porn. IN MY DEFENSE, i think about being mean to him everyday.
content: friend!sukuna, smut!!! kissing, oral (f! and m! receiving), fingering, squirting, unprotected p in v sex, choking, some overstimulation, gagging (she stuffs her panties in his mouth call it what you want), reader wants to strangle him lowkey
18+ please <3
the cabin hums with warmth, the scent of firewood and something sweet drifting through the air. outside, snow blankets the trees, and cold wind howls against the windows. inside, easy laughter and the comfortable chaos of a weekend ski trip. the kind of night that makes you glad you came along.
sukuna arrives late, kicking the door open with a gust of icy air. He drops his bag like he owns the place. he tracks snow inside, ignoring complaints, slings an arm over the couch, and gives you this stupid look like he's waiting for you to say something. so you do.
you tell him to shut the fuck up before he even has the chance to speak, and his grin only widens, eyes glinting with something sharper than amusement.
it doesn't stop there. over the weekend, he lingers in your space, testing your patience with a practiced ease. he blocks your view of the tv until you kick him. he interrupts you mid-sentence just to get a reaction. he bumps into you, unnecessary and on purpose, his hand catching your waist for a second too long before he steps back with a grin like he's daring you to push him harder.
you do. you bite back every time with sharp words, sharper looks. and each time, his smirk turns lazy, satisfied.
it's not just teasing. it's calculated. the way he watches your mouth when you argue. the way his voice drops when he gets close like he knows exactly what he's doing.
you don't plan to give him the satisfaction.
+++
the cabin is quieter now. most of the group has dispersed to their rooms or sprawled out in the living room. the only sounds are the faint creak of floorboards under your socks and the low hum of the refrigerator as you rummage for snacks.
you're barely two bites into a cookie when you hear a familiar chuckle.
"midnight cravings?"
you glance up as sukuna strolls into the kitchen, moving with his typical cockiness. he's ditched his hoodie, leaving his tattoos exposed under a plain black t-shirt that fits a little too well.
"something like that," you say, narrowing your eyes as he steps closer. "shouldn't you be asleep?"
"couldn't sleep," he replies casually as he reaches past you, unnecessarily, into the cabinet. his arm brushes against yours, just enough for you to feel the warmth of his skin. your breath catches before you can stop it. sukuna notices.
"do you mind?" you ask, crossing your arms.
"not at all," he says, watching you, amused as he leans against the counter across from you. he doesn't take his eyes off you as he opens the cookie package, inspecting the contents.
"you're insufferable," you mutter, shaking your head.
he chuckles at your expression, and then, just to be an ass, he reaches out, plucks the cookie from your hand, and takes a bite.
you stare at him, speechless. then irritation bubbles up, hot and sharp. "you—"
"—shouldn't eat so much sugar this late?" he finishes smoothly, chewing like he's enjoying himself. "i know. just looking out for you."
"you're a nightmare."
his gaze flickers to your mouth. "you like it."
you feel the air shift.
it's not the first time he's looked at you like this, but it feels different tonight. charged. his grin sharpens each time you snap at him, like he's feeding off it.
"you've been messing with me all weekend," you say, sharply. "why?"
"i like the way you look at me when you're pissed," he shrugs. "nothing else like it."
your stomach flips.
"what the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"exactly what it sounds like," he says, his voice low.
the casual way he says it makes your pulse quicken. you hate how your body reacts to him. hate that you're noticing the way his voice dips lower, the way the air between you feels warmer.
"you're so full of yourself, sukuna," you mutter, shaking your head.
"i've been called worse."
you should end this here. roll your eyes and walk away. instead, you stay rooted in place, staring him down.
and sukuna, predictably, steps closer.
he's obviously baiting you. but there's something real under his teasing now, something undeniable in the way his gaze drops to your lips.
your instinct is to push him back, to say something biting. but you don't. you tilt your chin up, refusing to back down.
his fingers curl at your hips.
"tell me to stop," he says, his voice softer now.
you don't.
his smirk sharpens just slightly. "that's what i thought."
then he kisses you.
it's slow at first, like he's savoring the moment. his mouth moves against yours, teasing, testing. until you pull him closer, grabbing the front of his shirt and yanking him against you.
and his composure breaks.
sukuna growls against your lips, his hands tightening on your waist as he deepens the kiss, his body pressing into yours, pinning you against the counter. he bites your bottom lip, then soothes the sting with his tongue, a low groan escaping his throat when you slide your fingers into his hair.
you're both too lost in it to notice the footsteps approaching.
choso's voice cuts through the haze, flat and unimpressed. "please don't fuck in the kitchen."
you break apart instantly, your heart slamming against your ribs. sukuna, to his credit, barely looks fazed. his chest rises and falls heavily, his lips red and swollen, but he meets choso's stare without flinching.
"then get the fuck out," he says, voice rough.
when choso exits, grabbing the bag of chips he came for, there's silence.
then, sukuna turns back to you, grinning.
"my room. five minutes," you tell him.
his eyes flicker with something dark, his grin sharpening at the edges. "five minutes?"
you tilt your head, unbothered. "if you're not there, i'm taking care of myself."
for the first time this weekend, sukuna hesitates. he exhales deeply, looks at you for a second longer, and then he grins, slow and wolfish.
"five minutes."
+++
you shut the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment. the heat in your body hasn't cooled, not even close. if anything, it's harder to ignore now.
you don't rush. you glance around the room instead, fixing little things. you smooth the blanket, push your bag further under the bed, move a hoodie that's not even in the way.
you glance at the clock. two minutes left. a smile tugs at your lips. can he even last that long?
then the door creaks open. sukuna steps inside, shutting it behind him with an almost lazy push. early.
you sit on the edge of the bed and let the silence stretch a bit. "you're early."
he leans against the door, smirk lazy but his stance tense, coiled. waiting. "got impatient," he says, voice low. already making excuses.
your lips twitch. figures.
you tilt your head, watching him. he doesn't move closer. just stands there, gaze lingering on your face like he's waiting for something.
"well?" you murmur. "you made it. what now?"
his smirk lingers, but there's something darker there. "i was hoping you'd tell me."
"shouldn't you already know?" you muse. "considering how long you've been thinking about this."
his eyes flick to your mouth before settling back on your eyes. "maybe." a pause. "but i like the way you handle things."
you hum, letting your nails drag lightly down his chest. his breath stills. "then lock the door."
he doesn't hesitate. the click echoes in the silence before he crosses over to stand in front of you.
"bossy looks good on you," he murmurs.
your lips curl. "i'll keep that in mind."
you trace your fingers up his torso, watching the way his muscles twitch beneath your touch.
"what do you want, sukuna?" you ask, voice soft but firm.
his grin sharpens, his breathing unsteady. "depends on what you're offering."
a challenge.
your pulse thrums at the thought. he's giving you an opening, one you would've made for your self had he not offered.
you rise from the bed, tilting your chin up to hold his gaze. he observes you, the edges of his lips still curled as usual, but there's something else there now. his breath has slowed, his body tense, waiting.
"how bad do you want it?" you ask, fingers tracing a slow line along his jaw.
he squirms a bit beneath your touch. "bad," he answers, his voice already rough.
your lips twitch. of course, he does.
"then do what i say," you murmur, letting your fingers trail down his neck, pressing lightly a the base of his throat. you feel his exhale stutter.
his expression doesn't waver, but you feel the way his body reacts. his shoulders are tight, chest rising slow and deep, pulse pounding against your fingers as he moves to hold your hips.
"hands off," you say, your voice quiet but firm. "if you can't keep them to yourself, we're done."
there's a flicker of something in his eyes, maybe defiance or pride. restraint. but after a moment, he drops his hands to his sides.
"now," you say, your voice calculated. "get on the bed."
the flicker of hesitation is gone just as fast as it came. he obeys, sinking onto the edge of the bed, leaning back on his elbows, his legs spread just enough to make something hot coil in your stomach.
"take off your shirt."
"yes, ma'am," he says, smile widening.
you roll your eyes. "don't push it."
he pulls the fabric over his head and tosses it aside. his tattoos stand out stark against his skin, broad shoulders tapering into lean muscle.
you step forward, dragging a finger down the center of his chest, feeling the sharp inhale he takes at your touch.
"you look good like this," you murmur, watching his muscles twitch beneath your fingers.
his throat bobs when you trace over his ribs, his jaw going tight. "i'd look better with you on top of me."
"not yet," you hum.
his smirk falters just slightly, impatience creeping in. his hands flex against the sheets. he wants to touch you.
good.
you hook a finger under his chin, forcing him to meet your eyes. "you like following orders, sukuna?"
he inhales sharply, but he doesn't look away.
"…yeah," he admits. then, after a beat, softer, "from you."
your stomach tightens. you knew, but hearing it out loud sends heat curling through you.
"then be good," you say, brushing your thumb over his bottom lip. "and follow directions."
for once, he doesn't act smart. he just nods, slow and a little dazed.
you drop to your knees, settling between his legs. a sharp inhale rattles his chest. he doesn't move, doesn't reach for you. his hands stay at his sides, fingers twitching against the sheets.
"tell me if you want me to stop," you murmur, dragging your nails lightly up his thighs, just barely touching him.
he swallows hard. "i'll let you know."
you press a slow, open-mouthed kiss to his abdomen, just above the waistband of his sweatpants. his stomach tenses beneath your lips.
"fuck," he mutters under his breath, his hands gripping the sheets.
you smirk. he's trying so hard to keep still for you.
"you're really fucking hard," you muse, pressing a soft kiss over the fabric of his pants.
his hips twitch slightly as he inhales, trying to be patient. "you're a fucking tease."
"i know."
you palm him through the fabric, slow and deliberate. he tenses, a low groan slipping free.
"what do you want?" you ask, deceptively sweet.
"i want your fucking mouth," he grits out, his hips pressing against your hand despite himself.
you snap the waistband of his pants, smiling. "ask nicely."
he huffs. he's stubborn. for a moment, his pride nearly wins. but when you slide your hand up his length, teasing, his resolve crumbles.
"please."
"please, what?"
a beat. his breath is shaky now. "please, put your fucking mouth on me."
"good boy."
his whole body tenses at that, his dick twitching, but you don't give him a second to dwell.
"take them off," you order.
he lifts his hips to shove his sweatpants down. his boxers go with them and his dick springs free, flushed and leaking. desperate.
you meet his gaze as you press a kiss to his base, dragging your tongue along his shaft. his abs tense, a soft sigh slipping free.
"fuck," he mutters, wrecked already.
"sensitive," you hum.
his hips jerk when you take him in. his response is immediate—a sharp inhale, a low, desperate groan. his hips twitch, but he forces himself still.
"fuck, just like that," he rasps, his voice strained.
you set the pace, hollowing your cheeks, working him slow, letting him feel every flick of your tongue, every shift of pressure. his breathing turns ragged, his body tight with restraint.
you pull off slightly, a thin string of spit connecting your lips to him. his jaw locks, his hands grasping at the sheets tighter.
still watching him, you let your spit drip onto his length, slow and messy.
his whole body clenches, his dick flexing against his stomach. "fuck." his voice almost shakes.
you use your hand to spread it, twisting your wrist as you stroke him. he's flushed, completely at your mercy now.
"look at you," you coo, watching the way he reacts. "all worked up, and i've barely done anything."
he groans at that, his hips rolling involuntarily.
"you're gonna be good for me, right?" you tease, continuing your movements.
"yeah." it's barely a whisper.
you take him back into your mouth, swallowing him deeper. he shudders, letting out a moan. "so fucking good," he groans.
then his hand tangles in your hair, instinctive and desperate. you pull away instantly, releasing him with a soft pop.
he whines. an honest, sharp, needy whine. his hips jerk involuntarily. "fuck, what—"
"what did i tell you?" you ask, arching a brow.
his jaw clenches. "shit."
"if you can't follow directions, we're done," you say, your voice firm.
"please don't," he groans, dick twitching against his stomach, desperate.
"then behave."
you lean in, licking a slow stripe up his length before sucking him deep. his whole body shudders.
"fuck," he gasps, voice breaking.
you work him harder now, your pace quick and steady, your hand stroking his base as you take him deeper. his moans are distraught, raw.
"shit, i'm close," he warns, his voice wrecked. you only hum, the vibrations making him shudder.
"fuck, please, fuck—"
his body locks up, and then he's gone. his dick pulses as he spills onto your tongue. a deep, broken moan rips from his chest, his fingers twisting into the sheets as he shudders through it.
you swallow every drop, sucking him through the aftershocks. he twitches, his breathing uneven, thighs shaking beneath your hands. "fuck," he mutters.
you pull back slowly, dragging your tongue over his tip one last time before sitting up. you tilt your head, watching him recover. "you look good like this."
his lips twitch. "yeah?"
you hum, trailing a finger along his cheek, tilting his chin so he meets your gaze.
you know he's still recovering, but that doesn't mean you're done with him.
+++
sukuna sinks back against the mattress, arms lax at his sides, his chest still rising and falling unevenly. his eyes are heavy-lidded, his lips slightly parted, but his smirk is back.
you tilt your head, observing him.
"tapping out already?" you muse, letting your fingers trace his ribs.
his muscles twitch under your touch, but his grin sharpens. even now, ruined and spent, he has the nerve to look cocky.
"not a fucking chance."
he shifts, watching as you stand, as you move toward the dresser and hook your thumbs under the waistband of your shorts, sliding them down slowly.
by the time you're fully bare, sukuna is staring.
"fuck," he whispers, the word slipping out before he can catch it.
you let him have the moment. let him drink you in, let him feel the anticipation build until it's suffocating him.
then you tilt your head at him. "get on your knees, sukuna."
for a split second, something like hesitation flickers in his expression. then it's gone.
he slides off the bed, moving to where you are and sinking to his knees before you. his breath is warm against your skin, you watch his his hands flex.
"can i touch you?" he asks, his voice rough.
you tilt his chin up slightly. "ask nicely."
his jaw tightens in frustration, his pride clearly hanging by a thread. he licks his lips, blows out a breath, and gives in. "please."
you hum in consideration before threading your fingers through his hair, tugging just enough to make him inhale sharply. "you can touch me."
his hands snap up instantly, holding your thighs, fingers pressing into them like he's been starving for it. his lips part, his breath warm and hot, and he leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the inside of your knee.
it's so different from how he usually is, calculated and cocky. he takes his time, committing it to memory, dragging his mouth higher, higher, each kiss heavier than the last.
you exhale softly as his hands slide up, parting your legs, his movements careful. he's waiting for you to pull him closer.
"don't tease me," you murmur, your voice coming out softer than you intended.
he smirks against your skin, teeth grazing your inner thigh. "go ahead. stop me."
you grab his hair, tilting his head up, forcing him to meet your eyes. "watch your fucking mouth, sukuna."
he falters, just slightly, but there's something fierce in his gaze now. "let me keep going."
you nod, anticipation coiling inside you.
his fingers part you, a quiet sigh escaping as his eyes land on your core. he licks a broad stripe along your slit, and a shudder rolls through you.
his tongue moves slowly at first, savoring, like he's learning you. his groan is low, vibrating through you.
his restraint is obvious in the way his grip on you lingers rather than bruises, in the way his exhale stutters against your skin. he's holding back.
you tug lightly at his hair, testing. he whimpers. "don't hold out on me," you murmur, breathless.
he exhales sharply, his fingers flexing as he finally gives in. he moves with purpose, licking through your slick before his lips close around your clit, sucking, pulling a gasp from your throat.
sukuna groans, guttural, and it hits you. he's starving for this.
heat floods through you. he wants you so bad. his fingers moving up to your hips, his desperation obvious in the way he works you, messy and unhinged.
you tip your head back, breath ragged, hands threading through his hair.
"fuck, you're so good," you murmur. you feel him moan. a deep, broken sound muffled by the way he's devouring you.
he growls against you, his hands flexing, and then—
you're moving.
he sets you onto the dresser with an ease that makes your stomach flip.
your back hits the mirror, the cool glass biting into your skin, a shocking contrast to the heat of his mouth. you blink down at him, dazed.
he grins against your skin.
"what the fuck do you think you're doing?" you snap, but there's no bite to it.
his lips brush your inner thigh, his breath hot against you. "shh," he murmurs, licking higher. "let me have some fun."
you should shove him off. push him back. say something mean.
instead, you spread your legs wider.
he sighs, drunk on the sight of you.
his mouth is back on you quickly, lapping through your slick, his grip bruising now, holding you open.
"fuck," you gasp, writhing under him at the way he works you.
he groans like he's getting off on this, and then you feel his fingers press against your entrance.
"you taste so fucking good," he mutters, voice muffled as a thrill rushes through you
"sukuna—"
he pushes in, slow and deep, and your composure shatters.
his fingers curl immediately, perfectly, pressing into the spot that makes you jerk against his mouth.
he chuckles against you, dark and satisfied. "that's it," he mutters. "take it."
his pace is measured, his fingers stretching you open, pushing deeper, fucking you slow and devastating.
his mouth never stops. his tongue flicks against your clit, matching the rhythm of his fingers, and pleasure coils tight in your stomach.
"fuck, you're squeezing me," he mutters, his voice thick with awe.
you grind against his face, basically riding his fingers now, and he lets you.
"so needy," he teases.
"shut up and keep going," you pant, your whole body trembling.
his pace quickens. his fingers stroke, curl, push, driving you higher. you sit up straighter, your breath catching, your nails digging into his scalp.
his eyes flick up to yours, burning. hungry.
"don't look away," he rasps. it sounds like a plea. "tell me how good it feels."
"sukuna—"
"tell me," he growls, the sound vibrating against your core.
"so fucking good," you moan, pleasure mounting. "it feels so fucking good."
your orgasm hits fast, pleasure splintering through you, your body arching, tightening, breaking apart.
sukuna moans, licking you through it, his fingers fucking you through every second.
"fuck—" your thighs tremble, your hands clutching at his hair, trying to pull away.
it's too much. too much.
but he just tightens his grip, locking you in place, still working, pushing you deeper.
"sukuna," you plead.
he knows. he can feel the way you tremble, can hear your sharp inhale, can feel the way your thighs try to clamp around his head.
but he doesn't let up.
"you can take it."
"fuck." your legs shake. "wait—"
he sucks your clit into his mouth again, harder, his fingers pushing deeper, curling just right.
the heat coils too fast, too intense. you whine, your nails scrape the mirror behind you.
"sukuna, i—"
he groans, dragging his tongue through your slick, addicted.
"c'mon, sweetheart. let go."
your whole body tenses. teetering. and then the tension snaps.
you gush. your hips jerk violently, pleasure ripping through you as you soak his face, his hands, the dresser beneath you.
"oh, fuck—"
sukuna growls, holding you open, watching, taking in every second. he looks drunk, reverent. his fingers keep stroking, slower now, dragging out every aftershock.
"fuck, baby, you're still going."
your head tips back helplessly, your thighs twitching. he licks you through it, relishing every drop.
"look at you," he hums, his voice thick. "full of surprises."
he presses a soft kiss to your thigh, sucking a mark there, claiming you before he leans back, staring at you like he's never seen anything as beautiful.
you watch as he pulls back fully, that hungry look still on his face. his hands tense at his sides like he's fighting the urge to pull you back on him.
"get up," you murmur, your voice light.
he meets your eyes. you see the flicker of hesitation, but he obeys, pushing himself up. his gaze is heavy as you move slowly off the dresser and toward the bed, as you grab your panties from where they were previously discarded.
"come lie down."
you watch him settle with his back against the headboard, his dick hard and leaking against his stomach.
"i want you to be quiet, sukuna."
his eyes flicker with something darker. hungrier.
you ball up your panties. "open your mouth."
his lips part before he can even think about it. you press the soaked fabric between them, stuffing it into his mouth.
"like i said," you murmur, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "don't make a sound."
he's looking at you like you hung the stars, his dick twitching underneath you.
you hold his shoulders to lift yourself up, and when you sink down onto him slowly, his whole body trembles.
he moves immediately, almost desperately, his hands gripping your waist, sliding up your back, pressing you against him. his face buries into your chest, his breath hot against your skin.
you cradle his head between your arms, running your fingers through his hair, allowing it. allowing him.
you roll your hips, testing, feeling the way his jaw clenches like he's physically biting down a sound. his whole body jerks, his forehead moving to press against your shoulder as he breathes through his nose, sharp and uneven.
"you can hold on, can't you?"
he nods, but it's shaky.
you smirk, dragging your nails down his back, feeling his muscles ripple beneath your hands. you start a rhythm, grinding against him slowly.
his nails dig into your back. you can feel it. he's breaking. he's clinging to you, his hold desperate, his body taut with restraint. he needs to hold it together for you.
"mm," you hum, rolling your hips. "you're doing so good for me. such a good boy, sukuna."
his whole body tenses at the praise. his grip tightens. and then you pick up the pace, riding him faster, harder, feeling him tremble beneath you.
his arms lock around you, his body shaking with the effort to keep quiet as you bounce in his lap. he's struggling.
"don't break," you murmur against his temple, your nails dragging along his scalp. "i know you can take it."
his breath stutters, his hands clenching on you. but he's so quiet. until he isn't.
a deep, muffled groan breaks through the fabric in his mouth.
you immediately stop moving. his whole body goes tense.
his fingers dig into your skin, panicked like he already knows what's coming.
you grip his jaw, forcing his head back against the headboard, making him look at you. his eyes snap open. he looks distressed. undone.
you drag your thumb across his bottom lip, watching the way his eyes close as his face follows the movement.
"you just couldn't help yourself, could you?"
he looks up at you, something dangerous flashing across his features.
you roll your hips again, just slightly, to punish him.
his chest rises fast beneath you. you watch his jaw tighten, his throat bobbing. then, with a slow, deliberate tilt of his head, he spits the fabric onto the mattress.
before you can even speak, his tongue flicks out, swiping over your thumb, sucking it into his mouth. he wants to give you a second to process, to feel the shift. but he can't. his patience is gone.
his grip on you tightens fast. in one sharp motion, you're flipped on your stomach, hips lifted into the air.
his hand settles firmly on the back of your neck, holding you there.
"stay down," he murmurs. "so fuckin' pretty like this."
he drags his knuckles down your back, along your thigh, but he doesn't touch you where you need him.
a shiver runs through you, frustration and arousal curling in your stomach, but you don't fight him, don't say anything.
"been teasing me all night," he mutters, his voice low, sharp, cutting through you. "think it's cute to test me?"
you try to lift your head to answer him, but his hand presses firmer against your neck, pushing you back down into the mattress.
you suck in a breath, your pulse thrumming, anticipation curling tight inside you.
his grip locks onto your hips. one pull and he's all the way inside you. your cry is instant at the stretch, the way he fills you all at once. "fuck," he says, his voice dark. "there she is."
he holds you tight, his breath uneven. for a moment, he just stays there, buried inside you, feeling you flex around him.
then he pulls back, almost all the way out, before slamming into you again.
your fingers claw at the sheets, a sharp gasp ripping through your throat.
his chuckle is dark, satisfied. "that's what the fuck i thought."
he sets a brutal pace, deep thrusts knocking the air from your lungs. his hand tightens at the back of your neck, keeping you pressed into the mattress, his breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts.
he's holding you there like he's afraid to let go. his voice is rough against your skin. "fuck, baby—"
you whimper as he slams into you again. your whole body arches at the feeling, heat licking at the base of your spine.
his hand slides down, fingers wrapping around your throat, pulling you up against him. his lips press against the shell of your ear, his breath hot, chest heaving against your back.
"feel so good like this," he murmurs, almost in awe of you. "taking me so well, sweetheart."
you moan and shudder, reaching back and digging your nails into his bicep, your head tilting back against his shoulder.
his other arm tightens around your waist like he can't bear to have any space between you.
"you're so fucking sexy," he exhales, his voice thick with something real. "been thinking about you all fucking weekend."
his next thrust is deep, punishing.
you cry out and his hand moves instantly. not to restrain you, but to cradle your throat and jaw, tilting your chin back so he can kiss you.
it's hungry, desperate. his teeth catch at your lip, his tongue sweeping into our mouth, his groan low as he drinks you in.
"tell me you want this," he murmurs, voice thick.
you clench around him, your breath breaking. your brain doesn't process exactly what he said, just that he wants you to speak. so you do.
"you're so fucking deep inside me, 'kuna," you gasp, your voice raw. "want you to fill me up, please keep fucking me, don't stop—"
he groans loudly, his hand on your throat tightening, his restraint cracking completely.
"fucking hell," he mutters, like he's about to lose himself, like you've just broken him.
"please," you gasp, your voice breaking, "want it, give it to me, make me cum on your dick—"
sukuna snaps.
"my god—"
his pace turns merciless, his hand moving from your waist to press on your lower stomach, his thrusts hitting deeper, harder, chasing the high that's so close you can taste it.
your eyes squeeze shut, a cry slipping from your lips.
"so fucking good, sweetheart," he mutters, his voice feverish. "you're taking me so well, so perfect—"
his hand slides lower, rubbing tight, perfect circles around your clit.
his pace stays punishing, long, sharp thrusts that make your whole body tense.
"fuck," you gasp, your voice breaking.
he feels it the second it happens.
your whole body tenses, your walls clenching down on him so hard it nearly makes him stutter.
"fucking cum all over my dick, baby," he mutters, his voice thick. "god, look at you."
he doesn't stop. your legs tremble violently, pleasure slamming into you in sharp, rolling waves.
he fucks you through it, not slowing, dragging it out until it's unbearable.
"sh-shit, sukuna—"
your thighs snap shut around his hand, trying to push him away, too sensitive.
"fuck, you're still cumming, huh?" he murmurs, his voice ruined.
you can't stop trembling, gasping, the aftershocks still rippling through you.
he groans loudly, burying himself deep.
"fuck—fuck, take it," he groans, his own orgasm barreling into him.
his breath catches, and his body tenses hard as he spills inside you, his sigh rough and satisfying against your ear.
the air between you is thick with heat as you both come down, your breaths ragged and uneven, bodies drenched in sweat. sukuna stays inside you for a long moment, his weight solid and grounding, his forehead pressed against the curve of your shoulder.
neither of you speak at first.
your heartbeat is still erratic, your body still trembling slightly, every muscle loose.
his hands soften, wrapping around your torso as he holds you to him, feeling your short, uneven breaths. he exhales, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. soft. reverent.
"breathe, baby," he murmurs, voice quiet now. "i got you."
you close your eyes for a second, exhaling and letting yourself melt into him. a long moment passes.
then, slowly, he pulls out, the loss making you hiss. you barely have time to process his absence before he lays you down and the bed shifts. your eyes flicker open as he disappears to the bathroom.
you just hum softly, too exhausted to move, stretching your legs out and feeling the faint ache between your thighs.
you feel a little dazed, like your brain hasn't quite caught up yet.
the mattress shifts again, and a cool, damp towel presses between your thighs.
"jesus—" you flinch slightly at the sudden temperature change, but sukuna just huffs a quiet laugh.
"hold still," he mutters, his touch careful. you blink at him, surprised.
"didn't take you for the aftercare type," you tease, your voice softer than usual.
his lips twitch, his brows furrowing slightly, but he doesn't fire back immediately.
"yeah, well," he mutters after a pause, tossing the towel aside and settling beside you. "for you, i am."
you study him for a beat. the tension is gone from his body now, the sharp edges of him softer in the low light. his fingers graze your cheek, his eyes lingering on the redness at your neck.
"you okay?" he asks, quieter.
he watches you for a second, smiling softly when you nod.
you feel warm and content, the weight of exhaustion starting to pull you under. your eyes slip shut just as he shifts closer, his arm draping lazily over your waist.
+++
you wake up to warmth, to soreness, to sukuna's arm heavy around your waist. for a moment, you just lie there, the weight of last night settling over you all at once.
you sit up abruptly when reality kicks in, ignoring the ache in your legs. sukuna grunts in protest, burying his face into the pillow.
"relax," he mutters, his voice thick with sleep. "no one cares."
but once you're both dressed and stepping into the kitchen, you know he's full of shit.
conversations pause.
gojo is the first to look up, grinning like a menace. "oh, look who's finally gracing us with their presence."
you groan.
utahime hums over her coffee, "sleep well?"
"we heard everything," yuki deadpans.
choso barely looks up. "cover each other's mouths or something next time."
your face burns. behind you, sukuna strolls in like he owns the place, reaching for the coffee pot like nothing happened.
"you guys are acting like you're surprised."
"oh, we knew," gojo says. "just didn't think it'd take this long."
your glare could kill. "don't start."
gojo just grins, all teeth. "whatever you say, sweetheart."
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he looks down in shame. and ryomen sukuna is never ashamed of anything he’s done, and he’s done a lot of shit.
“that asshole was putting his hands on you” he huffs and looks at your chest instead of your eyes “so yes, again” you’ve never looked this visibly annoyed, and what was scaring him even more is how calm your voice was.
“look at me, not my tits ryomen” you narrow your eyes, he immediately looks up “yes ma’am” you grab his collar and the security turns a blind eye(he’s been getting on their nerves also)
“when I say no stupid shit, that means no-” you give him a hard slap “-jail, got it?” he just nods his face didn’t even budge, of course you don’t intend to harm your husband and you’re not abusive. sometimes with ryomen sukuna you literally need to smack some sense into him.
“yes ma’am” he nods again, “can you bail me now?” you roll your eyes “im not picking you up again, call choso” ryomens eyebrows knit together in annoyance “but i want you to pick me up” if anyone didn’t know any better, he’s whining for you to pick him up.
“no ryo” he tilts his head and subconsciously pouts then leans in “cmon woman, stop being a brat” his words have no bite, but when you smile he scowls.
you take a deep sigh and close your eyes, “last time” “i promise baby” he smirks.
you both know this definitely isn’t the first, nor the last.
ps. ok pinky promise this is the last drabble after this ima finish two more request than boxer choso is coming😭 taglist : : @in-aa @chewiebee @applelite @crybabylulu @yassifie-d @ai-no-tegami @silverwfern @oksukuna
sleepy lazy morning sex w sukunaaaaaaaaaauuhhhhhhhhhhh 😩 one minute you’re blinking away sleep with your cheek against the pillow and him poking hard and needy into your back, the next he’s got you on your side with one leg hiked up and your pyjamas tugged down around your thighs. he’s treating you with slow lazy thrusts, big hands groping at any fleshy part of you that he can reach, voice thick with sleep as he groans, the sound gravelled and low between the sticky ‘plap!’ ‘plap!’ ‘plap!’ of him working you open. it doesn’t take long before your breathing gets a little ragged at the edges, and you’re whining and moaning softly along with him. the sheets are still warm and he’s still half asleep, and it’s just so easy for you both to roll into a collective brain melting orgasm, to ride it out while he noses at your hair and murmurs filthy little slips of praise there, breathing in the soft scent of your shampoo…
turnnoffyourmind
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