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gojo wakes up with your hand already inside his boxers, your fingers curled lazily around his half-hard cock, stroking him with that slow, sleepy rhythm you know drives him insane before heâs even opened his eyes.
he groans, low and guttural, his hips twitching forward into your palm despite the way his voice drips with exaggerated annoyance. ânngh⊠seriously?â he mutters, voice rough from sleep, one eye cracking open just enough to glare at you through the messy white strands falling over his face. âitâs⊠what time is it? too early. youâre doing that thing again.â
you donât stop. your thumb drags across his tip, spreading the sticky warmth already beading there, and his breath hitches despite his best efforts to look put out. gojo satoru, the strongest, reduced to a mess of slow-burning want before the sun has even fully risen, and you havenât even said a word yet.
âyouâre not gonna move, are you,â he says. itâs not a question. he knows you. knows that when you wake up like thisâall heavy-lidded and needy, pressed against his side with your thigh hooked over his hipâyou have exactly one thing on your mind, and absolutely zero intention of doing anything about it besides using him.
you hum, soft and affirmative, and your grip tightens just slightly, a silent you know what i want that makes him sigh through his nose.
âunbelievable,â he breathes, but heâs already shifting, already rolling toward you, because gojo has never been able to say no to you. not really. not when you look at him like that, all sleepy and demanding, your lips still puffy from sleep and your hair a mess against the pillow. âyouâre gonna make me do everything. like always.â
you donât deny it. you just pull your hand out of his boxersâslowly, deliberately, dragging your fingertips along his length one last timeâand push at his shoulder until heâs on his back. then youâre climbing over him, straddling his hips, and he lets you, because what else is he supposed to do? throw you off? pleaseeee.
his hands find your waist on instinct, thumbs pressing into the soft skin above your hip bones, and he feels the damp heat of you through the thin fabric of your underwear as you settle against him. his cock twitches where itâs trapped between you, and he groans again, tipping his head back into the pillow.
âyouâre not even gonna take these off yourself?â he asks, tugging at the waistband of your underwear, and you shake your head, pressing a lazy kiss to his jaw.
âyou do it,â you murmur against his skin, and he laughsâa breathless, disbelieving sound.
âof course. of course i do it.â but his hands are already pushing the fabric down your thighs, already guiding you to lift your hips so he can pull them off and toss them somewhere on the floor. he doesnât bother taking off his own boxers, just hooks his thumb in the elastic and shoves them down just enough to free himself, his cock curving up against his stomach, flushed and heavy and already leaking at the tip.
you reach down to guide him, but he catches your wrist, lacing his fingers through yours and pressing your hand into the pillow beside your head instead. âno. you wanted me to do it, so iâm doing it. just sit there and look pretty.â
you pout at him, but itâs halfhearted, your eyes already glazing over as he shifts beneath you, one hand leaving your waist to wrap around his own cock, slicking the head through your folds. youâre already wetâembarrassingly wet, a testament to how long youâd been touching him before he even woke upâand he groans at the feel of it, at the way your body welcomes him without any resistance.
âfuck,â he breathes, and then heâs pushing inside, slow, so slow, because even when heâs complaining, even when heâs playing the part of the put-upon boyfriend, gojo canât bring himself to rush this. not with you. not when you make that soundâthat soft, broken little âahâ that falls from your lips as he sinks into you inch by inch, your walls fluttering around him like youâve been waiting for this all night.
he bottoms out and stops, both of you just breathing, just feeling. his hands slide up your sides, over your ribs, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts, and he watches your face, the way your eyes slip half-closed, the way your lips part around a shaky exhale.
âyou gonna do any work, orâŠ?â he asks, and you shake your head again, a tiny, lazy movement that makes him laugh even as his hips twitch up into you.
âdidnât think so.â he starts to move, pulling out slow and pushing back in even slower, a rhythm thatâs barely more than a deep, grinding rock. itâs not meant to be fast. itâs not meant to be rough. itâs morning sex when neither of you is fully awake, when the sun is just starting to filter through the curtains and the sheets are tangled around your ankles and every sensation is muffled and warm and thick like honey.
you moan, low and quiet, and your hands come up to brace against his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his sleep shirt. heâs still wearing itâof course he is, because you didnât even give him time to take it off before you were climbing on top of himâand you tug at the collar, pulling it down just enough to press your mouth to the hollow of his throat.
âmmnh⊠satoru,â you breathe against his skin, and his grip on your hips tightens, his rhythm stuttering for just a second before he finds it again.
âdonât âsatoruâ me,â he says, but his voice is softer now, the annoyance bleeding away into something warmer, something almost tender. âyouâre the one who woke me up. youâre the one whoââ he cuts himself off with a groan as you clench around him, deliberately, just to hear that sound. âcheater.â
you smile against his neck, and he feels it, feels the curve of your lips, and he hates how much he loves this. loves the way you use him, loves the way you take and take and take and give nothing back except these soft, sleepy sounds and the occasional bite of your teeth against his collarbone.
the room is quiet except for the wet sound of him moving inside you, the rustle of sheets, your shared breath. itâs slow. so slow. each thrust takes forever, a lazy drag of his cock against your walls, and you can feel everythingâevery ridge, every pulse, the way he fills you so completely you can barely think.
âyou could at least⊠nngh⊠you could at least move your hips or something,â he tries, his hands sliding around to cup your ass, guiding you in a small circle that makes you both gasp. âiâm doing all the work here.â
âyouâre stronger,â you mumble, and itâs such a non-answer, such a blatant excuse, that he laughs again, breathless and a little wrecked.
âthatâsâahâthatâs not how this works.â but he doesnât stop. he doesnât even slow down. if anything, his hips press up a little harder, a little deeper, and you feel the stretch of him, the sweet ache of being filled over and over again.
you kiss him then, not because you want to help, but because you want to shut him up. your mouths meet in a lazy slide, lips barely parting, tongues just brushing, and he tastes like sleep and something sweet, like the toothpaste you forgot to use last night. itâs messy and imperfect and so, so good.
he pulls back just enough to speak, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath warm on your lips. âyouâre so lazy. you know that? youâre the laziest person iâve everâmmphââ you kiss him again, and he makes a sound like a whine, high in his throat, and you feel it in your chest.
the pace doesnât change. it canât change. youâre both too far gone into this slow, syrupy haze to do anything but rock together, hips meeting in a rhythm thatâs more instinct than thought. gojoâs hands wanderâup your back, down your thighs, everywhere and nowhereâand every few seconds he lets out a soft, punched-out noise thatâs barely louder than a whisper.
âyouâre not gonna cum,â he says eventually, and itâs not a question. âyouâre just gonnaâahâyouâre just gonna make me do this until one of us falls back asleep.â
you nod against his shoulder, and he groans, long and loud, his head falling back against the pillow.
âi hate you,â he says, but his hips keep moving, and his hands keep holding, and his cock keeps pressing into that spot inside you that makes your toes curl. âi hate you so much.â
you donât believe him. youâve never believed him. not when he says it like that, all soft and breathy, not when he keeps fucking you with that lazy, devastating precision, not when he turns his head to press a kiss to your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth.
âmove,â he tries again, giving your hip a little push. âcome on. just a little. justânnghâjust once.â
you shake your head, burying your face in the crook of his neck, and you feel his laugh more than you hear it, a shudder that runs through his whole body.
âyouâre impossible,â he says, but heâs smiling. you can hear it in his voice. âabsolutely impossible.â
the sun gets brighter. the birds outside get louder. neither of you speeds up. neither of you finishes. itâs just thisâthis endless, gentle push and pull, this lazy morning ritual that could last for hours or minutes, you canât tell anymore. time doesnât exist here, in the warm cocoon of tangled sheets and shared breath, of gojoâs hands on your body and his cock buried inside you and the soft, constant sound of his moans in your ear.
âiâm gonna stop,â he warns, but his hips rock up again, deeper, and you whimper, and he doesnât stop. he never stops. âi mean it. iâm gonna⊠iâm gonna push you off and go back to sleep and you can just⊠handle it yourself.â
you lift your head just enough to look at him, and heâs beautiful like thisâflushed and disheveled, his blindfold long since discarded on the nightstand, his eyes bright and blue and so, so soft. heâs looking at you like youâre the only thing in the world, even as he complains, even as he pretends he wants to be anywhere else.
âplease,â you say, and itâs the first real word youâve spoken since you woke him up, and it breaks something in him, some last thread of resistance.
âfuck,â he whispers, and then heâs kissing you again, deeper this time, his tongue sliding against yours, and his hips finally, finally pick up the paceâjust a little, just enough to make you gasp into his mouth. âfuck, okay. okay. iâll do it. iâll do everything. just stay right there.â
you do. you stay right there, limp and pliant in his arms, while he fucks you slow and sweet and endless, while the morning stretches on around you, while his moans fill the room like a prayer.
itâs lazy. itâs perfect. itâs exactly what you wanted.
and when he finally stops, minutes or hours later, both of you still trembling and neither of you any closer to the edge, he pulls out slowly and wraps himself around you and mumbles ânext time, youâre doing itâ into your hair.
You had been folded over your husbandâs lap, legs dangling over his muscular thigh. One of his four hands was pressed against the back of your head, keeping you from turning back to glimpse at him. Another sprawled across your back to pin you down.
A third was currently spreading your pussy lips wide for inspection.
âIâll ask you again, have you been touching whatâs mine, brat?â He growled, red eyes focusing on your slicked cunt. You whined into your hands, âI-I havenât.â
Crack!
A sharp spank landed on your ass, followed by a tut from your husband, âDon't lie to me.â He hissed, his large hand kneading the stinging flesh of your ass.
A sob escaped you, and you felt your cunt clench around nothing from the impact. His grip on the back of your head tightened, âI know what this pussy looks like, my wife. And I know when you have been interfering in my duties.â
Another spank, but this time to your cunt.
You cried out, âIâm sorry! I just missed you, my husband. You had been away for your travels for so long.â He let out an unamused laugh, âIs that so? Thatâs no excuse to have lied to me.â
His thick fingers pressed against your clit, circling agonisingly slowly on the sensitive nub. âDo you see me pleasuring myself without your presence? Do you think I do not have desires?â
He smacked your clit once more, âYou will learn how to be patient.â You yelped at the force, cowering in his lap.
A smirk began to form on his lips as he peered down at your slicked cunt, your essence dropped down your thighs and onto his rough fingers. âSo needy,â he murmured, spreading you open once more.
You shivered as cool air hit your clit. âR-RyomenâŠâ you whimpered, tears slipping down your cheeks. He hummed, signalling for you to continue as he inspected your cunt.
âPlease.â
Your voice was barely audible, but he picked it up. A wicked grin crossed his face when he heard you. âMy poor wife, so worked up over my absence.â
He slid one finger just past your entrance before retracting it and bringing it back up to your clit.
âLetâs see how pretty you sound when you beg, my wife.â
a/n: something for you guys while I work on something for nerdjo đ
riding your boyfriend satoru for the first time (o^^o)
you're already halfway down when you realize you might have bitten off more than you can handle.
satoru's cock stretches you open inch by inch, and even with all the prepâhis fingers, his mouth, the way he worked you open on the bed of his dorm room until you were dripping and beggingâit's still a lot. he's big. you knew that from the way he'd felt against your thigh, from the way he'd groaned when you'd wrapped your hand around him earlier. knowing and feeling are two very different things.
"easy," he murmurs, and his voice is lower than usual, rougher. his hands are on your hips, thumbs pressing into the jut of bone there, but he's not guiding you. he's holding you steady. letting you set the pace. "easy, sweetheart. breathe for me."
you do. shaky inhale through your nose, slow exhale through parted lips. your thighs are trembling where they're bracketing his hips, knees pressed into the mattress on either side of him. he's propped up against the headboard, shirt long since discarded, hair a mess of white silk falling into his eyes.
he looks wrecked already, and you've barely started.
"that's it," he says, and there's a strain in his voice that wasn't there before, a tightness around the edges. "you're doing so good. justâtake your time."
you sink lower. another inch. the sensation is overwhelmingâfull, hot, stretching you in a way that borders on too much. your fingers dig into his shoulders, nails leaving crescents in his skin. he hisses, but it's not from pain.
"fuck," he breathes, head falling back against the headboard. "fuck, you're tight."
you pause, breath catching. "is that bad?"
"no." he laughs, but it comes out strangled. "no, it's not bad. it'sâ" he grits his teeth, jaw working. "it's a lot. in a good way. keep going."
you push down further, and finally, finally, you're seated fully in his lap. his cock is buried to the hilt inside you, and you feel impossibly full, stretched around him, your body struggling to accommodate his size. you stay still for a moment, just breathing, just feeling.
his hands slide up from your hips to your waist, palms warm and slightly sweaty. he's looking at you with an expression you can't quite readâhunger and wonder and something softer mixed in.
"okay?" he asks.
you nod, swallowing. "okay."
"good." he shifts beneath you, and you feel him twitch inside you, making you gasp. his lips curl into a smirk, but it's strained, his composure crumbling at the edges. "now move when you're ready. however you want. i've got you."
you start slow. experimental rolls of your hips, testing the angle, the friction. each movement sends sparks through your nerves, makes your breath stutter. his hands guide but don't push, his thumbs tracing lazy circles on your skin.
"like that," he says, voice rough. "just like that."
you find a rhythm. rocking forward, grinding down, the wet sound of your bodies meeting filling the quiet room. his head falls back again, eyes fluttering shut, and you watch his throat work as he swallows.
"you feel incredible," he rasps. "god, you have no idea how good you feel."
you pick up the pace, bracing your hands on his chest. the new angle makes him hit deeper, and you moan, head dropping forward. he takes the opportunity to lean up, catching your mouth in a kiss that's all tongue and teeth and desperation.
when he pulls back, he's breathing hard. his bangs are plastered to his forehead. there's a flush spreading across his chest.
"you're doing so well," he says, and his voice cracks on the last word. "fuckingâperfect. you're perfect."
you roll your hips harder, chasing the friction, the pressure building low in your belly. his hands grip your waist tighter, and you can feel him fighting the urge to take over, to flip you and fuck you into the mattress.
"close?" he asks.
you nod, too breathless for words.
"me too." he laughs, shaky. "fuck, me too. you're gonna make meâ"
he cuts himself off with a groan, his hips bucking up into you despite himself. you gasp at the sudden depth, your walls clenching around him.
"sorry," he grits out. "sorry, i justâyou feel too good. i can'tâ"
his composure is crumbling. the infuriatingly cocky sorcerer is falling apart beneath you, his breathing ragged, his hands shaking where they hold you. he's babbling now, half-words and broken praises, telling you how good you are, how tight, how perfect.
"come for me," he gasps. "please. i need to feel youâ"
you do. the command, the desperation in his voice, the way he's barely holding himself togetherâit pushes you over the edge. you clench around him, a broken moan falling from your lips as pleasure rips through you.
he follows a second later, with a groan that sounds almost pained, his hips thrusting up as he spills inside you. you feel every pulse, every hot rush of him filling you, and it draws your own orgasm out until you're trembling and spent.
you collapse against his chest, both of you slick with sweat, breathing hard. his arms wrap around you, pulling you close, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
"holy shit," he mutters.
you laugh weakly. "good?"
he tilts your chin up, kissing you slow and deep.
"perfect."
a/n: requested by a lovely anon it was so much fun 2 write hihi
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.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
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Free to watch âą No registration required âą HD streaming
riding your boyfriend satoru for the first time (o^^o)
you're already halfway down when you realize you might have bitten off more than you can handle.
satoru's cock stretches you open inch by inch, and even with all the prepâhis fingers, his mouth, the way he worked you open on the bed of his dorm room until you were dripping and beggingâit's still a lot. he's big. you knew that from the way he'd felt against your thigh, from the way he'd groaned when you'd wrapped your hand around him earlier. knowing and feeling are two very different things.
"easy," he murmurs, and his voice is lower than usual, rougher. his hands are on your hips, thumbs pressing into the jut of bone there, but he's not guiding you. he's holding you steady. letting you set the pace. "easy, sweetheart. breathe for me."
you do. shaky inhale through your nose, slow exhale through parted lips. your thighs are trembling where they're bracketing his hips, knees pressed into the mattress on either side of him. he's propped up against the headboard, shirt long since discarded, hair a mess of white silk falling into his eyes.
he looks wrecked already, and you've barely started.
"that's it," he says, and there's a strain in his voice that wasn't there before, a tightness around the edges. "you're doing so good. justâtake your time."
you sink lower. another inch. the sensation is overwhelmingâfull, hot, stretching you in a way that borders on too much. your fingers dig into his shoulders, nails leaving crescents in his skin. he hisses, but it's not from pain.
"fuck," he breathes, head falling back against the headboard. "fuck, you're tight."
you pause, breath catching. "is that bad?"
"no." he laughs, but it comes out strangled. "no, it's not bad. it'sâ" he grits his teeth, jaw working. "it's a lot. in a good way. keep going."
you push down further, and finally, finally, you're seated fully in his lap. his cock is buried to the hilt inside you, and you feel impossibly full, stretched around him, your body struggling to accommodate his size. you stay still for a moment, just breathing, just feeling.
his hands slide up from your hips to your waist, palms warm and slightly sweaty. he's looking at you with an expression you can't quite readâhunger and wonder and something softer mixed in.
"okay?" he asks.
you nod, swallowing. "okay."
"good." he shifts beneath you, and you feel him twitch inside you, making you gasp. his lips curl into a smirk, but it's strained, his composure crumbling at the edges. "now move when you're ready. however you want. i've got you."
you start slow. experimental rolls of your hips, testing the angle, the friction. each movement sends sparks through your nerves, makes your breath stutter. his hands guide but don't push, his thumbs tracing lazy circles on your skin.
"like that," he says, voice rough. "just like that."
you find a rhythm. rocking forward, grinding down, the wet sound of your bodies meeting filling the quiet room. his head falls back again, eyes fluttering shut, and you watch his throat work as he swallows.
"you feel incredible," he rasps. "god, you have no idea how good you feel."
you pick up the pace, bracing your hands on his chest. the new angle makes him hit deeper, and you moan, head dropping forward. he takes the opportunity to lean up, catching your mouth in a kiss that's all tongue and teeth and desperation.
when he pulls back, he's breathing hard. his bangs are plastered to his forehead. there's a flush spreading across his chest.
"you're doing so well," he says, and his voice cracks on the last word. "fuckingâperfect. you're perfect."
you roll your hips harder, chasing the friction, the pressure building low in your belly. his hands grip your waist tighter, and you can feel him fighting the urge to take over, to flip you and fuck you into the mattress.
"close?" he asks.
you nod, too breathless for words.
"me too." he laughs, shaky. "fuck, me too. you're gonna make meâ"
he cuts himself off with a groan, his hips bucking up into you despite himself. you gasp at the sudden depth, your walls clenching around him.
"sorry," he grits out. "sorry, i justâyou feel too good. i can'tâ"
his composure is crumbling. the infuriatingly cocky sorcerer is falling apart beneath you, his breathing ragged, his hands shaking where they hold you. he's babbling now, half-words and broken praises, telling you how good you are, how tight, how perfect.
"come for me," he gasps. "please. i need to feel youâ"
you do. the command, the desperation in his voice, the way he's barely holding himself togetherâit pushes you over the edge. you clench around him, a broken moan falling from your lips as pleasure rips through you.
he follows a second later, with a groan that sounds almost pained, his hips thrusting up as he spills inside you. you feel every pulse, every hot rush of him filling you, and it draws your own orgasm out until you're trembling and spent.
you collapse against his chest, both of you slick with sweat, breathing hard. his arms wrap around you, pulling you close, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
"holy shit," he mutters.
you laugh weakly. "good?"
he tilts your chin up, kissing you slow and deep.
"perfect."
a/n: requested by a lovely anon it was so much fun 2 write hihi
tags 18+ minors dni !! very self indulgent hehe ⊠iâm so soft for him yâall donât understand đ„č
his lips are cold at first. always cold, like heâs been pressing his mouth to the rim of a glass full of ice just to feel something. youâve learned to expect it but it still makes you gasp every time, that first shock of chill against your warm mouth, and he loves it. you can feel him smile into the kiss, that infuriating curve of his lips that says got you.
he doesnât rush. satoru gojo could move faster than light if he wanted to but he kisses you like the world outside doesnât exist. his hands find your face first, always. long fingers spanning your jaw, thumbs stroking over your cheekbones in slow hypnotic circles. he tilts your head to the side and deepens the kiss, easing you into it, letting you feel every second of it. his bottom lip slots between yours and he just rests there for a moment, breathing you in.
then his tongue traces the seam of your lips, asking, always asking even though he knows the answer will be yes. you open for him and he hums into your mouth, pleased and low, the vibration traveling straight down your spine. he tastes like sugar and something sharper underneath, like the candy he definitely stole from your stash and the mint gum he chewed to cover it up. his tongue curls against yours lazy and thorough, exploring, and his teeth graze your bottom lip just hard enough to make your breath catch. he soothes it immediately with a soft sucking kiss that leaves your lip slick and tingling.
his mouth wanders. itâs a problem, actually, because he canât stay in one place for long. he pulls back from your lips and presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then the bow of your upper lip, then the tiny crease where your smile would be if you werenât so breathless. he kisses the tip of your nose, your cupidâs bow, your cheek. by the time heâs finished mapping your face your eyes are closed and your lips are parted.
he kisses your closed eyelids, left then right, feather-light. his lips brush your lashes and you feel them flutter against his mouth. he exhales a laugh and the air ghosts warm over your skin.
then heâs at your jaw, trailing open-mouthed kisses down to your chin, then up the other side. he finds the spot just beneath your ear and latches on, sucking gently, not enough to leave a mark but enough to make your fingers twist into the fabric of his shirt. he kisses the shell of your ear, the delicate skin behind it, the curve where your neck meets your shoulder. he breathes there, nose pressed to your skin. âyouâre so warm,â he says, âsmell so good.â
he kisses your throat. your collarbones. the hollow at the base of your neck where he can feel your heartbeat rabbiting against his mouth. he stays there for a long moment, just feeling it, and when he pulls back his eyes are dark and half-lidded and his lips are pink and kiss bitten and wet.
he kisses you on the mouth again, harder this time, less controlled. his composure slips and his hands drop from your face to your waist, your hips, pulling you flush against him. he kisses you like heâs starving, like the taste of you is the only thing that keeps him human. his tongue slides against yours and his teeth click against yours because heâs smiling again, heâs always smiling, even now. especially now.
his hands roam. up your sides, down your back, fingers splaying wide like heâs trying to touch all of you at once. they settle on your lower back and he presses you closer, impossibly closer, and heâs so warm now, all that cold burned away by the heat between you. he kisses the corner of your mouth again, your chin, the tip of your nose. a quick peck to your forehead. your left cheek. your right cheek. back to your lips.
he pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against yours, and you can feel his lashes brush your brow.
âhey.â he says, voice wrecked.
âhey.â you breathe back.
he kisses the bridge of your nose. âyouâre my favorite.â
you roll your eyes but youâre smiling, he can feel it.
other people never get it right, in his opinion. thereâs always a vowel thatâs too drawn out, or a consonant thatâs pronounced too sharply. he only ever smiles and nods when people say his name like that â itâs fine, sure. but itâs not right.
itâs become something very particular for him.
itâs not sah-toe-roo.
heâs also heard sahh-to-roo.
and some people will extend those vowels past their welcome.
but you? it glides off your tongue like honey.
sa-to-ru.
he likes the way it gets all sharp on your lips when youâre mad at him. satoru would never admit it to you, but sometimes heâll piss you off on purpose whenever heâs in the mood to hear how you sharpen the consonants like knives when you're telling him off.
âwhat?â the sorcerer sits back in your office chair, the faintest traces of a completely intentional grin on his face.
heâd come in early for once in his life for this exact purpose; satoru knew you always came in devastatingly punctual, so heâd make sure to greet you the best way he knew how to make your morning: by sitting in your office and kicking his feet up on your paperwork.
you loved things clean. itâs cute. he wants you fucking messy, though!
and youâre seething so adorably, with your face all scrunched up and your shiny eyes narrowed. âdoes this look like your office, gojo?â
nope. not what he wants to hear.
satoru sits up abruptly, making a show out of glancing around the room, before letting out an exhale of a laugh. âyou know, all the offices look suspiciously similar. might wanna bring it up with the higher-ups.â
âget out.â
âdid you get enough sleep last night?â he tilts his head, feigning concern. âyouâre being awfully rude about this.â
the way you narrow your eyes makes satoru wish he could see them glitter with crystallized tears, with his weight on top of you as he slides his tongue between your thighsâ
you suck in a breath past pretty lips. âiâm not in the mood. yaga has me on the clock. please just give me this, gojo.â
please, you say, and it makes him smile smugly. satoru loves hearing it (although heâd love hearing it beneath the dark of a particularly low-lit bedroom), but he needs more. needs your voice to wrap around his name like you own it.
âplead nicer. unfortunately for you, iâm in the mood.â
âfuck, no.â
he leans further back into your chair. âdidnât hear you. sorry?â
âsatoru.â
there it is. sa-to-ru; just the way he likes.
on other days, even when youâre rendered all sheepish and embarrassed at one of his jokes, satoru just canât get enough of the way you say his name.
this time, your tone dulls around the edges, always muttered under your breath in front of important people when heâs threatened to embarrass you with something heâs said â itâs soft and small and stern all at the same time, dancing through the air like warm fucking breeze in the winter. he just wishes you wouldnât be so quiet about it; if the sorcerer had a choice, heâd have your voice on repeat.
he already does, in a way.
itâs why satoruâs taken to teasing you specifically whenever you have faculty meetings in front of the higher-ups, or whenever youâre particularly engrossed in a lesson with your students, just to see you when youâre caught off your game and a tiny bit upset.
satoru loves you when youâre pouting, loves when your lips press flat into a thin line or when the inside of your cheek catches between your teeth, like youâve got a retort on the tip of your sweet tongue but wonât let it slip for your own sake. so fucking considerate all the time.
youâre unbelievably gorgeous when youâre so composed.
and you let that sweet little breath of his name slip from your mouth when heâd push you a little too far during your class with your first years on reverse cursed technique. your eyes fixate on the ground, lips downturned, as satoruâd just gotten all of your students to laugh at a little jab towards your explaining methods.
âsatoru.â you chastised in a small mumble, âletâs talk after my class, please.â
sa-to-ru.
god, that little whisper will be in his dreams tonight.
heâll hear it over and over again and wish youâd mumbled it right against his earlobe, because no one else ever deserved to hear your voice like that.
âthatâs awfully secretive, sensei. whatâs so important that our beloved students canât listen in on it, hm?â he knows what youâre getting at, of course.
but truthfully, he just wants to see your face contort with that fiery little expression, the same one he wanted to mouth at every inch of until nothing was left but pure bliss.
and satoruâs not shy about the way his heartbeat picks up when you nudge yourself a tiny bit closer, just to make sure heâs the only one who can hear what you say next. just so that your voice is only for him.
as it fucking should be.
the sorcererâs hand just about brushes your hip, and save him if it isnât taking everything in him to make sure he doesnât grab you and pull you into his side like he has the right to do so.
âi donât want my beloved students to hear me threaten to kill their sensei right here,â oh. satoruâs mind goes deliciously numb.
he grins, the edge of his mouth upturning slowly. âiâd love to see you try.â
you frown a tiny bit more.
âwhat exactly do you get out of pissing me off all the time?â
well.
â.á
satoru knows well enough that he adores your voice when itâs wrapped around his name.
but heâs decided that he loves it best when itâs completely breaking, paired with the gorgeously suffocating feeling of the skin of your thighs pressed into his fingertips and wrapped around his lips.
he loves when his name is exhaled, high-pitched and whiny like sugar, while his tongue paints a stripe across the wetness coating your lips, swirling circles around your pretty clit.
maybe he liked it the most because itâs how heâs always wanted to hear you say his name â itâs just that youâd always been too fucking stubborn, so insistent on hating him that youâd never stop to think how good youâd taste coating his mouth with your slick.
âsa-ah-toru,â you keen as satoruâs tongue dips past the edge of your soaked hole, curling inwards deliciously, moving slow like heâs savoring every fucking drop.
god, heâs hungry â but heâll die if he goes too quick and canât taste you ever again.
and if he grips the back of your thighs just a little bit harder when you sing his name like that? he simply canât help it. he waited too long for this.
sa-to-ru.
you taste just as sweet as you sound.
youâd burst into his office this morning, bemoaning the fact that satoru hadnât showed up to the previous briefing with principal yaga, of which ended with yaga blaming it on you. youâre bursting with rage, all up in his face, and itâs all a blur from there until your panties are hooked over your ankle, heâs getting on his knees in front of your office chair, wrapping your thighs over his shoulders, and lapping at your pretty cunt.
he hasn't gasped for air; heâs been too enveloped in your scent to care about breathing. heâll devour you until no one else can. until all that pretty voice of yours knows how to sound out is sa-to-ru.
satoru narrows his tongue, bullying the muscle deep and slow, down to where you couldnât have thought possible to reach. his eyes are hazy, half-lidded as you tug at his winter locks, shoving him further into your weeping pussy.
âmmphâ fuck,â you pant out, eyes screwed shut as he thrusts his tongue in and out of you at a torturous pace. âfuckâ gojo, âre going too slowââ
âhmm?â he hums into your clit, sending shockwaves straight up from your core. the sorcererâs gaze meets yours from under the glimpse of your tits beneath your unbuttoned polo.
he loves you composed, he really does â but you look perfect when youâre all messy, just for him.
his lips glisten with your wetness as he grins. âi'll go faster if you say my name properly, beautiful.â
âhâhuh?â your words trail off into a candied whine as he pads his finger just against your entrance, smearing the wetness that covers your folds and popping it into his mouth.
youâre so sweet. fuck, why are you so sweet?
âsay my name.â he repeats, his voice cheerful yet rough, the tiniest bit of grit around the edge. âremind me how much you love me, gorgeous.â
your eyes still manage to narrow, even as they glitter with needy frustration. âfuck youâ mmh!â
satoru simply frowns against the inside of your thigh as he abruptly bullies the first inch of his finger past your entrance, hissing at how tightly your walls were clamping down on him. his mind goes blurry, swirling with thoughts of how delectable youâd look with your thighs around his hips, bullied open and clamping like a vice down on his cockâ
he pulls his finger out with a shudder, cooing at the little pout that forms on your lips. âpoor baby. if you canât handle it, you know, we can stop here. if you want.â
âwâ what?â you breathe out, eyes wide and glossy like the thought was insulting. âno, please â please, need you, satoruâŠâ
sa-to-ru.
and youâve drawn out that last syllable like you want him dead.
âagain, sorry?â
âsatoru!â you squeal impatiently, and he obliged, simply because heâd never say no to you when you sound like that.
the white-haired man groans, biting down on the inside of your thigh and relishing in the way it makes you whine, all high-pitched and finally sweet on him.
his fingers thrust roughly into your aching pussy, stretching you out and moulding you to shape around his skin. youâre dripping down his palm, and satoruâs mesmerized by the sheen of slick that coats his hand as he pounds his fingers in and out of you steadily.
âshitâ so pretty here for me, huh?â satoru whispers reverently, as if speaking directly to your pussy and not to you. âjust as sweet as that mouth of yours. just as tight too.â
your hands are making a home for themselves in his hair, hips chasing his thick fingers, grinding yourself further into them like he wasnât deep enough already. your perfect fucking voice isnât helping the sorcererâs case either â he swears he loses every semblance of control he has, bit by bit, at each breath of his name leaving your lips, garbled and slurred and destroyed.
âsâtoru, satoru,â your mouth drops open, eyes screwing shut as he curls his fingers right into that spongy spot, office chair creaking as your body slumps back into it. âitâs soâ fuck, âts soââ
he laughs breathlessly. âyes, gorgeous?â
âitâs soâ oh!â
satoru cherishes everything you have to say, he swears he does.
but he also cherishes the way your lips look, all glossed with drool pooling at the corners, when he leans forward and circles his tongue over your clit in mean little motions, lapping at the sensitive skin in tandem with the rhythm of his fingers. youâre a whining, squirming mess â struggling to stay upright, thoroughly desecrated on the office chair youâd chewed him out just weeks ago for stealing.
satoru hisses as your fingertips tug at his locks, so fucking drunk on the taste of your soaked cunt amidst the lewd sound of his fingers slapping against your sex.
âlisten to that,â he rasps out, pausing to let the squelch of your pussy speak for itself before laughing dazedly against your clit. âsheâs screaming my name too, isnât she? so fuckinâ good for me, arenât you?â
your bleary gaze peeks down at him, eyes questioning amidst the pleasure. âsâsatoru, you asshole, stop talking to myâ mmh!â
before you can protest, his mouth is diving back in. soft lips latch around your clit, and satoruâs painfully hard at the sound of your voice cracking around the syllables of his name, your throat thick with pleasure at the overstimulation. he doesnât let up; the white-haired man sucks harder at the sensitive bud, all while scissoring his fingers deep inside of you as if mapping you out.
for when his dick goes inside you, of course.
âitâs tâtoo much,â you complain in a mewl, eyes blurry with forming tears, âsatoru, please, please, âm soââ
âfuck, take it, gorgeous,â satoru gasps out against your pussy, lips drenched in your taste. âkeep talking to me â shit, youâre tight â let it all out for me, okay?â
satoruâs mind had blanked out a long time ago. between the way your lips form his name in one strung out moan, and the way you taste sweeter than any candy he couldâve ever asked for, heâs starting to wonder if heâd died and gone to heaven.
your voice tangles with the filthy squelches that resound through the cramped space of your office, and he swears nothing could ever be better than this.
except for the way you sound saying his name while you cum.
âiâmâ iâmââ you gasp, and satoru takes that as a sign to clamp his lips around your clit and suck, curling his fingers up against your g-spot until â âsatoru!â
heâs never heard anything so perfect before. his gaze flicks upwards as you orgasm, watching the way your face scrunches up as your cunt tightens unbearably around every inch of his fingers. satoruâs transfixed by your stupid voice, something out of a porno curated by an angel, and if heâs hoping heâs ruined you with his fingers alone, youâve ruined him with just the sound of your voice breaking.
your breaths are heavy as you come down from the high; soft and warm, sound waves radiating off of you like sunlight. satoru presses a soft kiss to your inner thigh, and you finally peer down at him.
âstill mad at me?â the sorcerer grins.
your eyes narrow as soon as youâre back to life. âyes. yaga chewed me out for something that wasnât even my fault, satoru.â
sa-to-ru. the white-haired man pauses against your inner thigh, raising an eyebrow up at you with something hungry in his eyes. because as soon as you say his name, he decides heâs not fucking done with you yet.
âiâm sorry, gorgeous,â satoru mumbles, giving you a faux-apologetic glance before mischievously pressing a kiss to your clit, watching how your eyes widen. âi guess Iâll just keep going until you forgive me.â
âwâwait!â
satoru gojo really likes the way you say his name.
and heâll keep making you say it until you know it too.
needy choso who just canât get enough of you after you came back from a trip
warning: nsfw, minors dni
The apartment felt too large, the silence too heavy. For Choso, time without you wasnât just boring; it was an ache. Being a being built from blood meant he felt every pulse of your absence like a physical withdrawal.
When the door finally clicked open, he was already there. He didnât wait for you to drop your bags or kick off your shoes.
"You're back," he murmured, his voice sounding like it had been scraped raw by the days of silence.
Before you could even get a greeting out, he had his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply, his nose brushing against your skin as if he were trying to memorize your scent all over again.
"Choso, I was only gone for four days," you teased, though your hands immediately found their way into the soft, messy dark hair at the nape of his neck.
"Four days is a long time to be without my heart," he rumbled against your skin.
He didn't pull away. Instead, his grip tightened, his large hands sliding down your back to press you even closer, molding your body to the hard planes of his. There was a desperate, heavy heat radiating off him. Choso wasn't a man of many words, but the way he touched you? a mix of reverence and a terrifying hunger spoke volumes.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumb tracing the line of your lower lip. His eyes, usually so somber, were dark and unfocused, fixed entirely on you.
"I didn't sleep," he confessed, his thumb dipping slightly to tug at your lip, revealing the pink of the inside. "Every time I closed my eyes, I realized the bed was cold. I realized you weren't sleeping next to me."
The tension in the hallway was thick, static-heavy. You could feel the slight tremble in his fingers, the raw need he had been suppressing while you were away. When you leaned up to kiss the bridge of his nose right over that dark horizontal mark he let out a low, shaky breath that vibrated through your entire frame.
"I missed you too," you whispered.
That was all the permission he needed. His hand slid from your waist to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tilted your face up. He didn't kiss you softly. It was a deep, demanding claim, his tongue tracing your lips until you opened for him. It tasted of longing and a slow-burning heat that made your knees go weak.
He backed you up against the closed door, his body pinning you there. One of his hands moved to your thigh, hitching your leg up around his waist to bring you even tighter against him. The friction of his heavy trousers against your skin, the weight of his body, and the way he groaned into the kiss made the world outside your apartment vanish.
"Don't go away again," he muttered against your mouth, his lips swollen and red. "I don't like who I am when you aren't here."
He scooped you up, your legs locking around his hips as he carried you toward the bedroom, his kisses never stopping, marking every inch of your jaw and throat. The trip was a distant memory; the only thing that mattered now was the way Choso was looking at you like you were the only thing in the world that could make him feel sane right now.
Choso didn't carry you to the bed so much as he pressed you into it, his weight a grounding, heavy heat that finally stilled the restless ache in his chest. He came down over you, his large frames caging you in, his eyes dark with a hunger that had been simmering for every hour you were gone.
"Choso," you breathed, your hands sliding up his chest to the collar of his shirt. "Youâre being⊠intense."
"I have too much blood in me," he rasped, his voice dropping into a low, jagged register. He leaned down, his lips ghosting over the pulse point at your neck. "When you're away, it feels stagnant. Heavy. I need to feel you to make it move again."
He didn't waste time. His hands, usually so careful, were urgent as they slid the fabric of your clothes away. He moved with a focused, quiet desperation, his mouth marking a trail of heat from your collarbone to the swell of your breast. Every time he made contact, he let out a low, vibrating hum a sound of pure relief.
When his skin finally met yours, the friction was electric. Choso was built of broader lines and harder angles, and the way he molded himself to you felt like a physical restoration. He shifted, his thigh sliding between yours, the pressure deliberate and slow. He watched your face, his dark eyes tracking every hitch in your breath, every flush that crept up your chest.
"You like this?" he murmured, his thumb tracing the curve of your hip while his other hand tangled in your hair, pulling your head back just enough to expose your throat.
"Yes," you gasped, your fingers digging into the muscles of his back.
He moved against you then, a slow, rhythmic grind that forced a sharp moan from your lips. He wasn't rushing. He wanted to feel every vibration of your reaction, to soak in the way your body arched toward his. The air in the room was thick, humid with the scent of sandalwood and the rising heat of two people making up for lost time.
His kisses became deeper, wetter, his tongue tasting you with a possessive rhythm that matched the movement of his hips. He was worshipful but demanding, his hands roaming over your skin as if he were trying to claim every inch of you before the sun came up.
"Stay like this," he whispered against your mouth, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. "Just let me feel you. Only you." He shifted and settled between your thighs, the sheer weight of him was a sensory overload. He was burning up, his skin flushed a deep, feverish red that matched the dark intensity in his eyes. He didn't just want to be near you; he wanted to be part of you, to erase every millimeter of distance that those four days had created.
His hands slid under your hips, lifting you to meet him as he moved with a slow, agonizingly deliberate friction. Every time his skin dragged against yours, a low, guttural growl vibrated in his chest. He was watching you like truly watching you; his gaze never leaving your face as your eyes fluttered shut and your back arched off the sheets.
"Open your eyes," he commanded softly, his voice a jagged rasp. "I want to see you when I do this."
When you looked up at him, his expression was a mix of raw devotion and unbridled hunger. He reached down, his fingers tangling with yours and pinning your hands to the pillow on either side of your head. It was a position of total surrender, and the heat in the room seemed to spike as he leaned down to catch your moans with his mouth.
The rhythm he fell into was punishingly slow at first, a rhythmic, heavy press that made your toes curl and your breath hitch in broken gasps. He was savoring the way you came undone beneath him, the way your inner muscles tightened around him in a desperate plea for more.
"You're so warm," he groaned into the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that was just short of painful. "I've been thinking about this since the second you walked out that door."
As the pace quickened, the sound of skin hitting skin and the ragged, shallow breaths filled the silence of the room. Chosoâs composure was completely gone, replaced by a frantic, driving need. He let go of your hands to grip the headboard, his arms straining with the effort of holding himself over you as he drove home, each movement deeper and more desperate than the last.
The build-up was a tidal wave, a pressure in your chest that finally snapped, sending waves of heat through your entire body. Choso felt it he way you tensed, the way your name fell from your lips like a prayer and it pushed him over the edge. He buried his face in your shoulder, his body shuddering with a violent, final release that left both of you tangled and breathless in the dark.
For a long time, he didn't move, just stayed buried deep inside you, his heartbeat a frantic drum against your ribs, finally satisfied now that he had you exactly where he needed you.
A/N: Uhm first smut..IDK HOW TO WRITE EXPLICIT IN DETAILS SO I JUST ADD LOTS OF SEXUAL TENSIONđ
choso just wants to do you a favor and give into your fantasy àšà§ choso kamo x fem!reader àšà§ i need him to wake me up like this
choso remembers the first serious talk about intimacy you had. he specifically remembers you saying you wanted to be woken up with fingers buried deep inside you, why not make that reality now?
he wakes up from his slumber with a boner growing in his boxers. he assumed he had a wet dream even though he can't really remember. his skin is sticky in sweat as he sits up.
you're laying on your back, sleeping soundly. he watches you for a few minutes before remembering exactly what you said.
he lays back down next to you, kissing your cheek as he hand dips into your panties. he can feel your warmth and he nearly makes a sticky mess in his pants.
he slides a finger inside your pussy. it's not wet, you're asleep, not even close to being aroused. he doesn't want to hurt you so he pulls his finger out. he gathers spit on his fingers and dips them back into your panties.
he rolls two fingers around your clit and he feels you twitch. he stops for a second, making sure you're still asleep before continuing to roll circles on your pretty bud.
you twitch again but this time he doesn't stop. he can feel you getting wetter by the second, your body reacts to him so quickly. he watches your face, your chest heaving up and down.
he wonders if you think you're dreaming.
when you finally get wet enough, he slips one finger into your hole, reaching that one spongey spot. your chest heaves more but somehow you haven't woken up.
he slides another finger in. he can feel a stretch and he hears your breath hitch. he keeps going, thumb rubbing your clit as he fucks his fingers into you.
your pussy reacts to his every move even if you're not conscious. choso thinks it's sexy. he continues fingering your poor pussy till he feels you clench around his fingers.
you gasp, eyes opening, finally coming back to consciousness.
it takes you a few seconds to realize what was happening. choso fingering you while you slept.
a fantasy, one you wanted to experience for the longest.
you smile lazily at choso, pulling him close as he leaves his fingers in your soaked pussy.
he doesn't say anything, his thumb gently nudges your clit again and he feels you get wetter. he smirks, moving his fingers again, this time with you awake.
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Clark got back from a long stressful day at the Daily Planet. A long. Long day. Thinking all about you, how he left you that morning for work and you were wearing his shirt and a pretty little thong. He spent all day trying to focus on his work. Like he should. But how could he when you were at home.
As soon as he got through the door you were in the kitchen making a drink, Wasting no time whatsoever he walks over and you feel two arms wrap around your waist pulling you even closer to his chest and he dives kisses on your neck inhaling your scent. A soft giggle leaves your lips and you tilt your head back to kiss him, he returns the kiss deeply turning you around to face him and lifting you off the ground slightly.
He set you down gently looking at you like you hung the moon and has a boyish grin on his face and you just beam at him taking a sip of your icy drink and offer it to him, he smiles taking a sip and passes it back. "How was your day baby... get any good stories?" You asked gently always eager to hear his work stories.
"It was good , though I think I need to have another interview with superman, How was your day honey?" he puts quotes around the word superman using his fingers and you roll your eyes at him at the irony and sip your drink again before speaking up again.
"I'm sure he'll find time for you, my day was good thanks Clark..just.. rotted .. watched tv.. the usual for a day off" He leaned over and kissed your forehead still with a glint of something else in his eyes.
"Did my girl eat today?" He brushes a hand through your hair almost cooing at you gently.
"I did baby.. got something small before ... have you eaten?" You return the question knowing exactly how much he dove into his work and forgot to eat. He nods softly grinning even more "I had something small too. But I'm starving baby.. worked up an awful appetite."
Your face fell instantly. You loved taking care of your man and he was starving??? That just wasn't okay. Not happening. "Oh! Clark I'll make you something up baby , what do you feel like?" You frowned darting to the fridge and he let out a deep chuckle at how sweet you were sometimes.
"Come here sweetheart." His voice was a deep tone that immediately caused a heat between your legs. Who would refuse that. You walked over and he leaned down slightly cupping your face and kissing you deeply. Almost starved. It took your breath away as his tongue slides into your mouth dancing with your own. The taste of coffee and something minty lingered on his tongue.
He pulls away voice smug and proud "wanna eat you up baby... s'that okay?" The answer got stuck in your throat within seconds. He tilts his head sweetly almost taunting you.
"Superman got your tongue baby?" He chuckled again.
"Yes baby.. s'more than okay!" The second the words leave your mouth he's already scooping you up and placing you on the counter and taking your soaked thong off placing it in his pocket , lifting his shirt you were wearing and looking at your dripping wet folds with a proud grin. He coos tauntingly and drags his index finger up your folds coaxing his fingers and giving them a quick lick to try you.
"Awe she's soaked f'me baby.. all ready.. ..." He kneels down ever so slightly to be level with your pussy.
"Oh I missed you sweet little thing" He coos playfully at your pussy biting your thigh before looking up at you "and you honey!" He dips his head between your legs making you gasp softly as he laps at your wet folds kissing your clit. His glasses getting nudged in thr process , But my god he didn't even care. He started lapping like a starved man and humming against your pussy and throwing your legs over his shoulder, his hands gripping onto your thighs hard Enough to bruise.
He was achingly hard. He loved your pussy. Could live between your thighs for days. âShe tastes so good baby" He whimpered against your clit sucking more and lapping his tongue rapidly. He brings two fingers towards your sopping wet hole and pushes them in gently making you yank at his hair and he looks up, glasses crooked and fogged up , you could feel him smile against your pussy as he fucks his fingers into you rapidly working in tandem with his tongue flicking at your clit. And he was getting harder. You were getting closer whimpering rutting against his mouth knocking your drink over from before. The cold icy liquid hitting you makes you gasp and arch your back more pushing him deeper into your pussy.
"Oh fuck!" You squeal water splashing everywhere and he pulls off tutting making you whine from the loss of contact and how close you were.
"you're makin such a mess baby... don't worry I'll take care of it." He scoops you up so your legs wrap around his waist definitely getting your juices soaked on his shirt and kisses you deeply , you can taste yourself on his tongue and feel how hard he is. His glasses beyond crooked and he quickly fixed them.
He lays you down on the dining table and you shriek at him. "Clark! We fucking eat on this table." You scold him and once again he leans down with a proud boyish unbothered grin. He needed you more.
"That's exactly what I'm doing baby.. I'm eating." He slams his mouth back between your thighs with more hunger than before and you shriek yanking on his hair throwing your legs around him to get him closer and he whimpers against your pussy. his air getting cut off slightly. But this is exactly what he wanted. His dick throbbing painfully already forming a dark wet patch in his pants.
For a moment he reaches his hand down to palm himself through his pants only groaning more as he laps up your juices and curlinghis tongue in and out of your hole making you whimper and thrash. You were a fucking mess. Dripping all over his face. He jerks himself off harder tugging on your clit slightly. He groans so hard and you squirm, he rapidly holds your legs down more not stopping for a moment to breathe.
"Can I try something for her baby? Think she'd like it" he coos waiting for your reply. You nod close to tears and suddenly you feel a sharp cooling sensation on your clit as he uses his freeze breath gently. You shriek louder thrashing and he reaches a hand up pushing your stomach down so you can't move.
He returns his fingers to your sopping hole and fucks you rapidly with them stretching your gummy walls out and letting you soak him and clamp around him even more still using the freeze breath and switching between that and his tongue, "HOLY FUCK CLARK" You belt out sobbing yanking on his hair even harder. He groans and whimpers against you as he completely comes undone in his pants.
The coil grew tighter and you can feel it in the pit of your stomach almost making you light headed.
"Clark! Wait ! No.. I'm gonna - " Before you can even finish you feel a gushing sensation as you squirt harshly onto his face , some of it splattering onto his glasses and all over the dining table and his pants had a massive wet patch from his own orgasm. He laps it all up. "She did so good baby.. you're so good for me"
You gasp breathing heavily and he lifts his head. His glasses fogged up and covered in your juices. He chuckles taking off his glasses and wiping them on his shirt before helping you sit up and kissing you softly wiping your tears away shushing you gently , the other hand at the back of your head.
"Fixed your appetite?" You ask sweetly and he chuckles nodding "best meal ever ,still could eat though, unfortunately eating you out isn't a balanced diet." He guides you to the bedroom and you both get changed, him in plaid pants and a white shirt and you his shirt and cozy shorts.
When you get back to the kitchen he grabs paper towels and cleaning up the kitchen counter and then the dining table. Throwing it away before turning to you.
"You feel like takeout? Everyone loves eating out" He grins smugly and you roll your eyes at him and smile.
"Takeout sounds good baby"
"Atta girl honey.. I'll pay for it" he leans over and kisses you deeply and lovingly. "Least I could do" He coos stroking your hair gently and then leaning down to rub your back as he always did.
especially when heâs got you pinned beneath him, buried so deep inside your tight, dripping cunt that you can barely think straight.
every brutal thrust has him dragging against every sensitive ridge inside you, slamming right into that spongy spot that makes your eyes roll back and your toes curl so hard they cramp.
his hips is snapping with that cocky, practiced rhythm, stretching you open around his thick cock like he owns every inch of your body.
the wet, filthy sound of him pounding into your soaked pussy fills the room, your juices coating his length and dripping down your ass with every deep stroke.
and he just canât help himself.
the moment you start clenching and fluttering around him, moaning like a whore, that feral side of him takes over.
he leans down with a wicked grin, his eyes gleaming with pure mischief and hunger, and sinks his teeth into your skin very hard.
he bites down on the junction of your neck and shoulder, teeth digging in so sharply you yelp in pain, your whole body jerking violently beneath him.
âfuck- satoru!â you cry out, but he just moans like itâs the sweetest sound heâs ever heard.
he thinks youâre screaming because it feels that good.
âshit, baby⊠youâre so loud for me..â he groans against your bitten flesh, voice husky and dripping with arrogance.
his tongue laps over the fresh, throbbing mark before he bites down again, harder this time, right above your collarbone.
the sharp sting blooms into burning heat as he sucks hard, leaving a deep purple bruise while his cock keeps bullying that perfect spot inside you without mercy.
you scream again, a raw, broken sound thatâs equal parts pain and overwhelming pleasure and it only makes him worse.
satoru chuckles darkly, the vibration traveling through your skin as he grinds his hips in slow, filthy circles, stirring his cock deep in your guts.
âyeah? right there, huh? keep screaming like that, sweetheart. youâre clenching so fucking tight every time i bite you⊠makes me think you love when i get rough.â
he shifts his angle, folding you nearly in half as he drives even deeper, another harsh bite lands on the swell of your breast, teeth grazing your nipple before clamping down.
the pain shoots straight to your core, making your pussy gush around him.
satoruâs lost in it, he pistons into you faster, harder, the headboard slamming against the wall as he chases his own high.
he bites your neck one more time, right as his fingers find your swollen clit, rubbing tight, mean circles.
the mix of pain and pleasure shoves you violently over the edge.
you shatter around him, screaming loud enough to make your throat raw as your walls spasm and flutter wildly.
satoru groans in satisfaction, hips stuttering as he fucks you through it, chasing his own release while still nibbling and sucking on your abused skin like he canât get enough.
older!neighbour! sukuna who really loves it when you decide to sunbathe.
because you don't do it in your backyard, you do it in his.
you've claimed that it's because he has a pool and 'nicer deck chairs', but sukuna knows better. and who is he to complain if you want to give him a show?
older!neighbour!sukuna who has you speared on his cock, your swim bottoms discarded on the ground next to your chosen pool lounger.
"you better be quiet doll, don't want anyone catching you like this, do you?"
"thenâ haaahâ s-slow down if y-you want me to â nghhh â be quiet. "
"nah." sukuna chuckles, pounding into you even harder. " you can take it dolly, you've taken it before. now's no different, you just." thrust "have to be." thrust "quiet." thrust.
older!neighbour!sukuna who 'tortures' you like this every time you come over to lay in the sun, whether it be with his cock, his fingers, or his tongue.
sukuna also likes to coax you into the pool, to 'cool down'. each and everytime, he ends up fucking you slow against the rough pool wall.
and when you go inside once the sun goes down? he makes you cum on his tongue in the shower, and fucks you again in his bed.
yeah, the days you decide to sunbathe are his favourite days.
i love older neighbour sukuna.... dirty old man.... plsss need him to fuck me all over his house
tried to make this gender neutral but i will tag w fem reader just in case!
for @blueberrycandymuffin bc we love unc neighbour sukuna
đđ Hopefully, youâve heard the last of surfers fucking you on the sand. But you never excluded lifeguards- especially grinning, pink-haired, insanely hot lifeguards who want to manhandle you. And you never excluded your friendâs uncle Sukuna (who just so happens to fit the bill perfectly), either!
content: smut, unckuna, pervy Sukuna, mentions of voyeurism, mentions of accidental exhibitionism, full nelsons, overstimulation (tears), mentions of male masturbation, creampies, p in v
wc: 2.3k
series masterlist
part two | part three | part four (coming tuesday <3)
Determined not to end up fucking somebody else on the beach again, the sunny few days after your little rendezvous with Suguru Geto demand a buffer zone named Nobara Kugisaki. Mainly to prevent you from making any bad decisions; like fucking a surfer behind a rock, and then letting his best friend fuck your throat the day after.
âWait, thatâs cute.â Nobara says, swirling her fingers around in the sand aimlessly beside the jumbled mess of sunglasses and tiny shards of shell resting between your towels. âTake a photo, quick, for your album.â
You smile and produce the camera. âThanks, I almost forgot- can you move your mirror to the side? Itâs reflecting into the lens-â
She does, and you squint down. âOkay, perfect.â
âGeez, itâs hot out.â Nobara huffs as you waft the photo about to develop, big sunglasses shielding her eyes while she brushes her bangs to the side. You nod sympathetically, fanning yourself as your skin tans, slipping the picture away.
Your complaining is cut off by the distant shrill of a whistle cutting through the pristine sky, your neck automatically twisting on instinct to see the source of the noise. And when your eyes lock onto it, you almost forget how to breathe.
Youâve seen Ryomen Sukuna before, at Yujiâs family gatherings and the occasional party, where he only shows up to make sure you donât all pass out on the front lawn.
But at least then heâs fully clothed.
Unlike now- bright red swim trunks sinfully low on his carved hips, official âlifeguardâ emblazoned vest slung somewhere inside the tower to allow his gorgeously sculpted chest to be on full show.
His arms are thick from all the time he spends lugging weights around in the home gym you pretend not to spy on when youâre at Yujiâs, his face devastatingly, unfairly beautiful.
Cut sharply, his features are enviously perfect. Dark ink bands around his skin like he was born with it, like heâs existed forever as the wall of muscle and tattoos you know him to be.
You arenât usually the type to throw yourself tooooo headfirst into things- especially when they concern Yujiâs uncle- but thereâs a nagging feeling at the back of your mind that wouldnât mind drowning in the pools of crimson that make up his irises.
âDonât make me whistle again!â He shouts, head of pink hair sticking out from the secluded lifeguard tower, âI need to talk to you.â The whistle rests delicately on his lips, his tongue just wetting the shiny red plastic as it dangles from the cord around his tattooed neck.
âNah, not you.â Sukuna says dismissively, âher.â
Youâre puzzled as you rise from the patterned towel, brushing the remnants of beach away from your sandals; Nobara shrugs when you look back at her, just as confused as you.
His eyes donât leave your body once as you pad across the sand, feet leaving indents behind you. You feel exposed; your bikini is skimpy enough, sure, but Sukunaâs gaze feels like heâs stripping you bare and running his hands along each swelteringly hot curve.
Your thighs almost squeeze together as you walk, an urge thatâs only made worse as you climb the steps and he keeps staring at you. What you donât know is why heâs staring- Sukunaâs almost affronted at how much of your tits youâre casually offering to him with your choice of bikini.
Of course, heâs seen your cleavage before, as you chat drunkenly with his nephew in the backseat, bottle still clutched forgotten in your palm; but itâs different like this, when he can really see the supple flesh you hide behind fabric.
When itâs not past midnight on the lawn of somebodyâs house, your limbs splayed out and tangled with Nobaraâs as you laugh at absolute nothing and giggle when he pulls you to your feet. Itâs sunny now, the rays lighting the beads of sweat clinging to your nape.
But you donât notice the way his eyes curve on your bare skin, too busy opening the door to the lifeguard tower.
âYouâre gonna get sunstroke.â He deadpans when you step inside, ânot even a fucking hat.â
Bypassing the comment, you muse, âhuh. I didnât think anybody actually worked here.â
He kisses his teeth before continuing, playing with the whistle between two thick fingers. âI like it that way.â
You scoff. âYeah, sure- itâs not because you get to perv on all the girls?â Youâre only joking- obviously, Yujiâs uncle isnât a perv- but Sukuna knows otherwise.
Only on you, he thinks briefly, teeth clacking into a little grin.
âNah. But you see a lot if youâre quiet enough.â
You stare at him and the way heâs started to knowingly cock his head like he knows something incredibly funny. âLike what?â
Sukuna grins, lazily tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear; suddenly, you become aware of just how cold it is in here and just how thin the material of your bikini is. His eyes drift to your chest and his mouth quirks, but he doesnât comment.
âHad a shift a few nights ago. And one the day before that, around noon.â
âSo?â You say, affronted, âif I wanted to know your schedule I wouldâve just asked-â
âOh, you donât get it, do you?â He grins devilishly, the feeling of his calloused palms suddenly gripping your arms enough to make your head spin. âLook.â
You squint against the sun through the glassy window, past where Nobara is lolling about on her beach towel and reaching for the cooler, and to- oh.
The lifeguard tower, especially from the angle Sukuna has you held at, provides a perfectly clear, perfectly elevated and, above all else, perfectly hidden view straight down to the smooth gap behind a certain rock youâve become accustomed to.
Oops.
âOkayâŠâ you say, feigning calmness like he didnât just admit to being a willing voyeur to your coastal escapades, âwhatâre you gonna do? Ban me from the beach? It wasnât public indecency, there was nobody else around-â
âMaybe I could file a noise complaint.â Sukuna murmurs, his voice low in your attentive ear. âAll those pretty noises, I had to sit in here and fuck my hand so I could think straight about rules and regulations instead of how your face would look when you cum.â
You gasp sharply. âI knew you were a perv.â The insult carries no bite, the insult whispered breathlessly through your lips as a big palm gently travels over your bare collarbones and down to cup your chest.
He grins against your cheek, tongue licking a flat stripe across the skin. âYou wouldnât believe it, baby.â
Now, you knew Sukuna was strong- as does everybody else- but the sheer pliability he manages to work into your flesh is almost unreal. Thighs spread out easily, the thick muscles of his forearms tensed as he holds you, the toned ridges of his chest pressed flat to your curved spine-
Ryomen Sukuna has you in a full nelson, and youâve never felt more stuffed.
âOh-â you splutter, âoh, fuck-â
âYeahhh, feels good, doesnât it?â He breathes gruffly into your ear, cock swiping across something devastatingly soft inside you. Teeth nip sharply at your skin and you keen. âKnew you could take it fâme.â
The curve of your spine struggles to fully come into alignment, your movements hazy and sluggish as two of his fingers work to rub across your clit. âBetter than the beach?â
âHuh?â You slur, eyes half lidded and your swimsuit completely discarded somewhere, waterproof strings and patterned fabric strewn into a corner alongside Sukunaâs trunks.
He laughs meanly, tightly rolling the little ball of nerves between his finger and thumb; your back arches away on instinct, the sudden burst of pleasure too much- but Sukuna moves first, clamping you down and pressing your reeling body to his.
âShit!â You wail, shuddering in his grip as his cock relentlessly drags over your most sensitive patches. âKuna-â
âThatâs new.â He notes casually like heâs observing a magazine instead of fucking you filthily on the floor of his lifeguard tower, âI thought it was âSukunaâ or maybe âYujiâs uncleâ, right?â
You sob, a nasty guttural heave that makes him grin and dig his canines into your shoulder. âSukuna-â
âNah, keep saying Kuna.â Any word that couldâve protested blanks totally from your melty brain, âsâcute.â
Itâs mocking, you know that- the noises being expelled from your mouth are downright needy and pathetic, mewls pitched octaves above Sukunaâs low groans.
You try so hard to stay quiet, to not give him the satisfaction. But Sukunaâs fucking you with the pent up sexual frustration of a man whoâs been forced to watch you fuck two separate guys right in front of him while heâs left to his fist.
I mean, you canât blame him, you guess.
Your mind, as hazy and fucked-out as it is, manages to drift to what he said earlier. Heâd got off to your noises, to the mere imagination of your bare skin; had he moaned into his palm to muffle it? Had he brushed his thumb over the tip and gasped, big pearls of pre slipping down his length to the patch of hair you're soaking?
Youâre more interested in how heâd looked, if his cheeks had blushed furiously while he worked his cock and hid himself from straggling beachgoers to fantasise about his nephewâs pretty little friend.
You bet he looks gorgeous right now, strands of salmon hair sticking in damp tufts to his forehead, black tattoos glistening with sweat as the muscles in his back, arms and thighs flex to hold you hostage.
Heâs so deep like this it should be illegal, his hips jostling you however he wants to the point of tears; tears you donât even register falling from your eyes until theyâre being swiped away by Sukunaâs tongue.
âYouâre so pretty like this.â He hisses, a thumb rolling over your peaked nipples and circling the buds until youâre whining out even louder. The stimulation in this position is everywhere- inside, outside, your ears, your kiss-bitten mouth, and itâs blindingly good.
Tears well up in your eyes, pinpricks of water that trickle across your brightened cheeks and get lapped up by Sukunaâs tongue. Heâs so nasty it makes you feel squirmy, pressed against his chest as slick drips down between your spread legs.
âIâm gonna cum.â You moan desperately, âplease-â
Sukuna doesnât respond, only speeds up the fingers between your painfully spread thighs and thrusts in deeper. The pressure is suffocating, instant and delicious; heâs spurting constant little coatings of pre inside your tensing pussy you canât wriggle away from.
âDo it then.â He demands, voice lilting into a slight tone of need at the end. Sukuna desires your orgasm just as much as you do, since he saw you throw a thigh over Gojoâs shoulder or drop to your sandy knees for Geto.
And, on a deeper level- maybe heâs wanted this for as long as you have, since the first time Yuji spontaneously introduced you both last summer on this very beach, your tits spilling out of your swimsuit and your hair splayed out over the towel.
You cum almost violently, body twitching as Sukunaâs palms keep slamming you down onto his cock even after the orgasm subsides and youâre weakly lolling against him.
âJustttt a lilâ more, baby.â He heaves out, cock throbbing as more swathes of pre drip between your legs. âJust- fuck!â
You gasp in unison when he spills inside, ever so thankful for the little strip of birth control you take religiously every morning; thereâs so much it almost shocks you, thick wads of alabastrine smearing messily down your skin.
He pulls you off with an obscene pop! sound that makes you grimace, reaching to tie your bikini back on shaking legs. âYou seriously canât expect me to go back outside like this?â
Sukuna shrugs lazily, eyeing up the shiny mess on your inner thighs and tossing you a spare towel to half heartedly clean up. âIâll carry you back if your legs hurt that bad, baby.â
You glare at him. âAbsolutely not.â
âIâll walk you, then.â Youâre ready to reject him and bounce back outside yourself onto the sand and back to Nobara, whoâs head is visible now youâre raising to your feet- but your knees buckle embarrassingly and he grabs onto you. âYeah, thatâs what I thought. Iâm walking you.â
He does, sort of- helps you down the stairs, readjusts the sunglasses on your face to cover the slight fucked-out heaviness to your eyelids and ties a towel around you to hide the reams of bruises decorating your waist. âOh, before you go-â he says casually, patting your shoulder, âtell Yuji I say hi.â
âAsshole.â You groan under your breath, waddling towards Nobara and trying to ignore the uncomfortable amounts of cum pooling in the middle of your bikini bottoms.
Nobara eyes you up suspiciously. âYou were gone for a while.â
You sigh dramatically. âHe lectured me on, uh, sunstroke. Iâm swearing off this beach for life.â
She laughs, already standing up- easily, you notice enviously- and rolling her shoulders. âI really hate sand anyway. Works for me.â
You only remember to check your phone when you flop backwards onto your bed later, breathless and sticky- but just a few minutes of scrolling before you get in the shower isnât too bad, you figure; thereâs a little budding notification on your messages, and you thumb through to find the sender.
Megs :)
yuji wants to go out
we were thinking this weekend
local bar?
You smile.
You
yeah sure
see you both then!
series masterlist | check out the photo album! | regular masterlist
a/n: thank youuuu for reading- reblogs/ comments super appreciated!! + bets for whatâs gonna happen at the weekendâŠ?
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satoru is so mean! (â„ïčâ„)
(nsfw under the cut!)
your boyfriend is evil.
not in the way youâre thinkingâno, he doesnât kick puppies or steal candy from children (as tempting as that sounds). he just finds creative, deeply personal ways to ruin your day for his own amusement.
like when youâre running late for work and you open your sock drawer to find every single pair has been replaced with mismatched ones. you stand there, staring at the chaos, while satoru leans in the doorway with that insufferable grin.
"whatâs wrong, baby?" he asks, all fake innocence. "canât find a match?"
you throw a sock at his head. he dodges, laughing. "youâre the worst," you mutter.
or when youâre trying to study, your notes spread across the kitchen table, and he decides itâs the perfect time to test your focus.
he sits across from you, silent, watching. you ignore him for twenty minutes before you finally look up. "what?"
heâs holding a single grape between his fingers. "nothing," he says. then he flicks it. it bounces off your forehead.
you stare at him. "did you justâ" another grape. you duck. "satoru gojo!"
heâs already reaching for a third. "what? iâm bored."
you slam your book shut and chase him around the apartment, your highlighter in hand like a weapon. he lets you catch him eventually, laughing as you tackle him onto the couch. "youâre insufferable," you pant, straddling him.
he grins up at you. "but youâre smiling, aren't you? i'd do anything to make you happy."
or when youâre on the phone with your mother, trying to have a normal conversation, and he decides to make it impossible. youâre sitting on the edge of the bed, your phone pressed to your ear, when you feel his hands on your waist.
"satoru, not now," you whisper, covering the receiver.
he doesnât listen. he drops to his knees in front of you, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your shorts.
your eyes widen. "mom, uh, can you hold on a secondâ"
he yanks your shorts down in one smooth motion. youâre trying to kick him away, but heâs stronger, his mouth already pressing hot kisses to your inner thigh.
"sorry, mom, i justâi need toâ" his tongue drags over your panties and you nearly drop the phone. "iâll call you back!" you hang up, breathless, and glare down at him. "youâre going to get me in trouble."
he looks up, his eyes gleaming. "it'd be worth it."
or when youâre trying to cook dinner, following a recipe, and he keeps stealing the damn ingredients. you turn around for two seconds and your onion is gone.
you turn back and your garlic has vanished. "satoru," you warn, spinning around to find him leaning against the counter, chewing.
"what?" he asks, mouth full. "iâm hungry."
"iâm trying to make us dinner," you snap, reaching for another onion. he intercepts, his hand wrapping around your wrist.
"or," he says, pulling you closer, "we could order takeout. and i could eat you instead."
you stare at him. "that was terrible." he grins.
"and yet, youâre smiling again."
but the worst part is when he gets you into bed, because thatâs when his particular brand of cruelty really shines.
heâs got you on your back, your wrists pinned above your head with one hand, and heâs been teasing you for what feels like hours. his fingers are inside you, two of them, curling against that spot that makes your vision blur. youâre closeâso closeâand he knows it. he always knows.
"t-toru, please," you beg, your voice cracking. "i needâi need to cumâ"
"yeah?" he murmurs, his thumb brushing your clit in the lightest, most maddening touch. "you need it? is my pretty girl all worked up?"
you nod frantically, your hips rolling, trying to chase the sensation. he pulls his hand away entirely. you sob. "no, n-no, pleaseâ"
"aw, baby," he coos, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "you're so pathetic. itâs cute." he brings his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean while you watch, helpless. "you taste good when youâre begging."
he starts again, his fingers sliding back inside you, his pace agonizingly slow. youâre panting, your thighs shaking, your mind going fuzzy at the edges. "toru! i canâtâi canât take itâ"
"yes, you can," he says, his voice calm, almost gentle. "you'll take whatever i give you. you wanna be good, don't you?" he curls his fingers, pressing hard, and you nearly scream. "thatâs it. feel that? thatâs mine. your pleasure is mine. i decide when you get it."
youâre crying now, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes, your body trembling. he leans down, his lips brushing your ear. "youâre so pretty when youâre dumb like this. canât even think, can you? just a pretty little toy for me." he adds a third finger, stretching you open, and you wail. "thatâs okay, baby. you donât need to think. iâll do it for you. all you have to do is take it. you can do that, can't you?"
he brings you to the edge again, and again, and again. each time, he pulls back just before you can fall. your mind is gone, your body is on fire, and all you can do is sob his name like itâs the only word you know.
"satoru, p-please!!" you whimper, your voice hoarse. "iâll do anything. please lemme cum, i-it hurts!"
he smiles, that sharp, wicked smile that means heâs nowhere near done with you. "it hurts?" he asks, his fingers still moving, still torturing you. you nod desperately. "poor baby," he mocks. "we can't have my sweetheart in pain, now can we?"
he presses his thumb to your clit and curls his fingers one last time, and you shatter. your orgasm crashes over you so hard you canât breathe, your vision going white, your body convulsing. he doesnât stop. he keeps his fingers moving, dragging it out, forcing you through it until youâre shaking and sobbing and begging him to stop.
"too muchh!!" you gasp. "s'toruu! itâs too muchâ"
"shh, hush now," he says, his voice low and dark. "you can take it, you're doing so well."
he shifts, his cock replacing his fingers, and you barely have time to process before heâs pushing inside you, filling you completely. youâre so sensitive, so overstimulated, that the stretch is almost painful. you cry out, your hands fisting the sheets.
"thaaatâs it," he groans, his hips snapping forward. "take my cock. take it like the good girl you are. youâre soâshitâ so fucking tight after you cum, baby. feels so good." he fucks you hard, his pace relentless, his hand sliding between you to rub your clit again. "you still with me?"
youâre babbling now, your words slurring together, your mind completely gone. "satoruâfuckâi canâtâi canât!!â"
you cum again, your walls clamping down on him so hard he groans, his rhythm faltering. he fucks you through it, his hand still working your clit, and youâre sobbing, your body shaking, your mind nothing but static and pleasure and him.
"thatâs it," he praises, his voice rough. "good girl. such a good girl for me. look at you, so stupid. canât even speak, can you?"
he cums with a groan, his hips stuttering, his cock pulsing inside you. you feel the heat of it, the way he fills you, and it sends you over the edge one more time, your third orgasm ripping through you like lightning. youâre crying, your body trembling, your mind completely blank.
he collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his breath hot against your neck. for a long moment, neither of you moves. then he rolls off you, pulling you into his arms, his hand stroking your hair.
"you okay?" he asks, his voice soft now, gentle. you nod, your face buried in his chest.
"youâre mean," you mumble.
he laughs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "yeah. but you love me."
you donât answer. you just press closer, your body still humming, your mind still fuzzy. and yeah. you do.
Toji abused the shit out of your apartmentâs amenitiesâespecially the gym. Ever since he moved in with you, heâd been in that luxury gym, day and night. It was open 24 hours, and he took full advantage of that. By all means, Toji was never a small man. He just never had a proper place to work out and truly build on his already established physique. You noticed itâthe gradual change, the way his biceps got fuller, his chest widerâand you could never take your eyes off him. Like at this very moment. You watched as he walked out of your shared bathroom, steam billowing out behind him. He was wearing just a dark blue towel, wrapped around his hips and hanging dangerously low.
He grabbed his white tank top and slipped it on. You watched the fabric stretch across his broad, defined chest. You were staring. He rummaged around in the closet and grabbed his shorts. Your eyes darted down, his towel coming loose, and you smiled softly to yourself at the sightâhis thick, muscular thighs on full display. He caught you staring. âMy eyes are up here, doll,â he said with a chuckle, and you felt your face heat up.
âMmâa girl canât shamelessly ogle her own boyfriend?â you said as nonchalantly as possible. You rolled out of your queen-sized bed and walked toward him. He met you halfway, his large hands wrapping around your waist and pulling you in close. âAs long as you let me stare back at youââ he said. âYou already do that, Ji,â you quipped with a soft, breathy chuckle.
Your hands started to roam his body, he was searing hot from his shower. âYouâve been staring at me a lot more latelyââ he whispered as he leaned down, his own pair of hands trailed down until they rested against your plush backside. âYouâve gotten biggerâŠâ you explained with a soft smile, your nose brushing up against his. âYeah? Wanna feel some more?â He asks, his tone cocky as he stood back up to his full height and flexed his arms, your fingers ran down his forearms, then his biceps. Your hands gripped each large and strong armâ slowly that goofy, satisfied smile appeared on your face âMm so strong Ji,â you whispered, eyes darting up to his face.
âAll for you baby.â he replied grufflyâsatisfied. You stood onto your tippy toes and pressed your lips against his, using his biceps as leverage to hold yourself against him. It was supposed to be a light peck, but Toji being Toji, deepened the kiss, his arms slipping down and sliding around your body, pulling you flush against his chest. His tongue slid against the seam of your lips and you parted them slowly. You let out a soft sigh of bliss and contentment as your arms wrapped around his neck and your fingers ran through his sable locks.
âJi,â you gasped softly into his mouth as he suddenly lifted you up and carried you back to bed and laid you down. You could feel itâ his cock, pressing against you through your cotton shorts. He pulled away, a string of pearly saliva attaching you both for a moment before snapping. âCmon doll, you canât just feel me up and expect me to not want moreââ
âI only grabbed at your biceps and chest Ji,â you said with a laugh. Your giggle dragged out into a soft whine as he started to grind against you once more, âJi, ahâyou keened.
âyes pretty girl?â He whispered against your soft skin, his voice sounding smugâ he kissed down your jaw and neck, making you shiver. Your hands trailed up and down his broad back, feeling every ridge and dip of pure muscle. âKe-keep goingâŠâ âmm whatever you want dollââ he whispered. You could feel his smirk against your neck, you lit a flame in him that wasnât going to go out for a long time tonight.
a/n: erm I donât like how dis turned out but! Itâs what I have done, and lowk might abandon my suguru fic⊠I donât know yet