lidya

morning sex with your boyfriend satoru (✿ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)⁾⁾

you wake to the weight of him already pressing into the mattress beside you, the heat of his body seeping through the thin sheet. the morning light filters through the blinds, casting pale stripes across the room, and satoru is propped on one elbow, watching you with those half-lidded eyes that make your stomach clench. he doesn't say anything for a long moment, just traces a lazy finger down your collarbone, over the curve of your breast, stopping to circle your nipple until it stiffens under his touch.

“morning,” your boyfriend murmurs, voice rough with sleep, and the word is a promise.

you shift, stretching into his hand, and he takes that as permission. the sheet falls away as he leans down, mouth replacing fingers, tongue flat against your nipple before he sucks it between his lips. a soft gasp escapes you, hand finding its way into his white hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp. he hums against your skin, the vibration traveling straight to your cunt, and you feel yourself already starting to slick up.

his free hand slides down your stomach, over your hip, fingers dipping between your legs. he doesn't rush, doesn't push, just traces the line of your slit through the damp fabric of your underwear, collecting the wetness that's already beading there. “fuck, you're soaked,” he breathes, pulling back just enough to look at you, that lazy grin spreading across his face. “been dreaming about me?”

you don't answer with words. you hook your leg over his hip, grinding your clothed cunt against his hand, and he takes the hint. his fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear, tugging them down your thighs, and you lift your hips to help. he tosses them somewhere off the bed, not caring where they land, and then his hand is back, naked this time, two fingers sliding through your folds, collecting your wetness before he presses them inside.

the stretch is sweet, familiar, and you buck into his hand as he curls his fingers, finding that spot that makes your vision blur. he watches your face, that grin never quite leaving his lips, but his eyes are dark, hungry. “that's it,” he coaxes, pumping his fingers in and out, thumb pressing against your clit in slow, deliberate circles. “let me hear you.”

you're already breathless, hips moving in time with his hand, and when he adds a third finger, the pressure makes you gasp. he's not rushing, taking his time, working you open at a pace that's almost cruel. you can feel yourself clenching around his fingers, your body begging for more, and he knows it. he knows exactly what you need, and he's going to make you wait.

“satoru,” you whine, and the sound comes out broken, desperate.

“yeah?” he leans down, lips brushing your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “want my cock, don't you?”

“yes,” you gasp, and he pulls his fingers out slowly, deliberately, dragging them through your wetness one last time before he brings them to his own lips. he curls his tongue around them, tasting you, and the sight makes your cunt clench around nothing.

“god, you taste good,” he mutters, and then he's shifting, kneeling between your legs, his cock already hard and leaking against his stomach. he doesn't bother with his boxers, just pushes them down enough to free himself, and the first sight of him in the morning light makes your mouth water. he's thick, flushed, the head slick with pre-cum, and the way he strokes himself once, twice, before lining up with your entrance is almost too much.

he doesn't push in right away. he just rests the head against your soaked folds, sliding it through your wetness, teasing you both. your hips lift, trying to take him, but he holds still, that grin turning wolfish. “what's the hurry? we've got all morning.”

but it's an entirely new level of tragic when somebody you've actually spoken to gets turned into a bot account. it's like peeking at a zombie apocalypse through the window and realizing one of the shambling corpses was your friend.

and then the zombie catches sight of you, lurches up to your window, and shouts through the glass that they accidentally reported your account to tumblr and you'll be deactivated unless you click this link.

if you get something like this ↑ they're gonna follow up by instructing you to contact tumblr support on discord and give you contact info; or they're gonna link a website that looks sort of like tumblr support and say you have to email them; or any variety of "you must now contact tumblr, here is how you contact tumblr."

whatever they send you, it Does Not lead to tumblr. it leads to the master zombie that bit them and inducted them into the ranks of the undead, and will bite you the second they have your email and password. i might be confusing zombies and vampires. anyway,

it's easier to fall for these messages because the blog doesn't LOOK like a bot blog, because it ISN'T a bot blog. it's a normal person's blog that got accessed by a bot, meaning the blog's content CLEARLY looks like a real active user when you click on it. and yes—it might even be a blog you already know. sometimes bots like this go down a blog's DMs or reblogs and message people they've previously interacted with.

𝓖.𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 🌷♡ ͏͏ is fighting demons while you hump his thigh in your sleep.

♡. 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓫. older clanhead!satoru :: age gap (40s/20s) :: arranged marriage :: smut :: wet dreams :: satoru's fighting a losing battle

⊹ ꒰ 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚎 ꒱ ⊹

"Are you scared I'll pop your hip if you let me bounce on it?"

You chirped one day during breakfast.

He choked up his mouthful of rice. Hacked with tears in his eyes while you had the audacity to rub smooth circles on his back. Hellish minx with your hands softer than heaven.

Satoru was the strongest, and you tested all forty four years of that strength.

"You are actually going to kill me," he grunted, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

Your eyes glimmered. "You've got a hefty life insurance, rightttt?"

Never in his life had it been so hard to fight a smile. You were something else. A demon and a doe, placed into his scarred hands.

You were all he was looking for and everything that he shouldn't want, even three months into your marriage.

Every day, you chipped away at a new section of his sanity. Made his slowly failing hormones surge and erect. Ahem, in more ways than one.

It was the way you spoke to him. Silk and smooth.

The way you batted those bratty, bambi eyes at him.

The way you flaunted that pretty body of yours. Teases of skin with your kimono dipped below your shoulder. Or the towel you'd prance around in the room with, agonisingly slowly as you went about your morning routine.

Yeah. Satoru had accepted that he was married to a crazy girl. A young girl. Who looked like she was a second closer every day to jumping his bones and giving him more wrinkles in his thighs.

To say he didn't fantasise about it would be a lie. Satoru thought about the things he could do to your soft, tender body more times than he'd like to admit.

Were you all big talk? Would you crumble the second his worn hands slipped between your thighs?

Would you be able to take him at all?

Guess that's a thought that'll remain just that. A thought. A guilty fantasy he'll condemn himself for until the day he closes his eyes.

After much whining and those puppy eyes that his infinity had no chance against, he loosened up enough to cuddle you. Hold you through the night when you curled into him and tucked yourself under his chin like a cat. You sure were as mischievous as one.

But in your sleep, without those damning eyes and pretty smiles, Satoru could admire you without the threat of a vein popping. Or a stroke. Or a heart attack.

The tender slopes of your face. The gentleness of your brows. The softness of your lips. Angelic. You were angelic.

Well, when you weren't trying to hump his thigh.

Somewhere in the dead of dawn. On a day the gods decided to test his every ounce of patience, Satoru awoke to the softest, sweetest sound.

A moan.

Groggily, his eyes fluttered open. Halfway through a stir when he heard it again—

"toru."

His stare shot down. Hands already on your waist and a scold rising to his tongue.

Only to see that you were fast asleep.

Brows twitched in a small pinch. Face blotched in the darkness. Lips parted. Your fingers curled into him while your hips rolled in a stuttered rhythm.

He took a breath. Then two. Three. Enough for him to catch up to what was happening.

You were dreaming.

"Mm. . . Satoruuuu."

Worse, you were dreaming about him.

Stewing in guilty pleasure, Satoru watched for a selfish moment. Your scrunched up face. Your hips rutting on his haphazardly.

His breath lodged in his throat.

A damp spot bloomed on his thigh.

Fuck.

He grit his teeth. Summoned all his strength. Squeezed his eyes shut and said every affirmation under the sun.

I will not touch my wife who's half my age.

I will not help her horny dream self.

I will not drive myself crazy with her sweet moans.

I will not be tempted by her little wet pussy on my— NO.

He gulped. Hard. Glaring to the ceiling as he fought off demons while you humped him like a rabbit in heat.

Eventually, he found the strength to grip your waist. To stop you. More importantly, the strength to not pull you over his crotch and grind up into that sweet cunt.

Your moans stirred into whimpers. Stirred into shudders. Your bucking hips slowing until they laid motionless.

Peace.

Or well, as much peace as he could have with a heavy, hot throb between his thighs.

This was a comic. Fucking. Joke.

There you were. Sleeping soundly with a content smile on your face. Like your wetness wasn't smeared on his thigh and you weren't humping the hell out of his leg just a moment afo. Looking as beautiful as you were damning.

Fuck. He was gonna lose his mind.

Sucking in a breath, Satoru slowly unwinded his limbs from yours. Slipping away before he broke all of his vows. Not tonight. Not ever.

Even through the ice cold shower, he was staring at his pulsing erection. Refusing to go down. Standing high at attention.

He almost wanted to slap it.

Slap himself.

Slap whatever divine force brought him here. Strung him between all of his morals, and his sweet young wife.

"Toru?" Your petal voice called out.

He groaned. Slumping his head against the tiles. Oh yeah. You were gonna give him a stroke.

© 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒎. no plagiarism or ai training authorised. divider: @/cheriisoda.

“tell me something pretty about yourself.”

toji fushiguro has your body naked in front of the mirror and his warm hands groping your hips. he lets his pinky slide up your puffy, wet slit—just a graze, just over your clit—and he doesn’t let your eyes leave the mirror as he draws back his pinky dripping with your slick.

“go on, princess,” he rasps into your neck. “m’listening.”

but he’s not just listening. your boyfriend is still in his boxers—unfair, really, because you’re clad in nothing & the room is too warm & your thighs are trembling from both the heat and the pressure. he wraps himself around you and slides his hands up to your tits. he gropes your breast once and lets his hands fall away.

your mouth dries. “i can’t.”

but your hips are bucking into him. rolling against his clothed cockhead as your pussy drools from the anticipation. toji laughs, chest warm against your back as he pinches your clit, forcing your hips to stutter & a whine to leave your lips. “y’got a pretty mouth, dollface. wanna hear you use it.”

in the mirror your thighs are still aching, chest heaving, and toji fushiguro has slipped his cock out of his shorts. you’re not sure you heard his waistband snap but his cock is there, flushed and swollen and dripping with precum.

"you see that ?" he murmurs, breath hot against your neck as he pumps himself in his fist all heavy & slow. "see what you do to me, sweetheart? standing there all pretty and wet?”

he lets the soaked head tap against your ass—once, twice—before dragging it lower between your thighs, letting it slip through your slick folds without pushing inside. your pussy flutters at the teasing, & toji watches your chest heave in the mirror through bleary eyes.

"you want this?" he murmurs, cockhead nudging your throbbing folds from behind. "want my cock in this pussy, baby?” he lets his precum smear over the folds. “start talking.”

you swallow, eyes glazed with lust and hips stuttering as you force the courage to speak. “i…i have nice tits.”

“breasts,” toji growls into your neck. “breasts, dollface. say it properly.”