#cupidboww

+18 Kuroo challenges you to play fighting!

cw: manhandling, playful wrestling, dirty talk, breast play, hickeys, fingering, size kink, creampie, praise kink.

note: I listened to My moon my man while writing this.

You and Kuroo had been lounging in his bed for what felt like hours, the two of you were supposed to be studying—or at least pretending to—but the textbooks had long since been shoved aside. Instead, you’d ended up tangled in his sheets, trading lazy jokes and teasing jabs. Kuroo, ever the smug captain, grinned down at you from where he was propped on one elbow, his messy black hair falling into his golden eyes.

“Think you can take me?” he challenged, voice low and playful as he gave your shoulder a light shove.

You shoved him right back, harder than expected, and that was all it took. Laughter bubbled up between you as the play fighting began. He grabbed your wrists, trying to pin you, but you twisted and pushed against his chest, both of you rolling across the mattress. Kuroo’s strength was obvious—he was manhandling you with ease, lifting and flipping you like you weighed nothing.

“Got you,” he growled triumphantly as he finally pinned you beneath him. Your arms ended up intertwined with his, wrists crossed above your head, fingers locked together in the struggle. You were both breathing hard now, chests heaving. Kuroo’s body pressed heavily against yours, warm and solid, his thighs bracketing your hips. His eyes on you as he stared you down, strands of hair sticking to his forehead.

For a second, neither of you moved. Just heavy, ragged breathing filled the space between you. Then, with a low groan, Kuroo crashed his lips against yours.

The kiss was messy and heated from the start—teeth clashing, tongues sliding desperately. He kissed intense, focused, and completely consuming. You moaned softly into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound, deepening the kiss until your head spun. His grip on your intertwined hands tightened for a moment before he released them, sliding his palms down your sides.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he murmured against your lips, voice rough. His hands roamed freely now, tugging at the hem of your shorts. In one smooth motion, he peeled them down your legs along with your top, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. Kuroo pulled back just enough to look at you, his gaze dragging slowly over your body like he was memorizing every curve.

“Shit… look at you,” he breathed, eyes hungry. He drank in the sight for a long moment, chest rising and falling.

Then, with a swift tug, he yanked his own shirt off over his head, revealing the sculpted planes of his body—broad shoulders, big, defined arms, and those sharp abs that flexed with every breath. You couldn’t help yourself. Your fingers reached up, trailing lightly over the ridges of his stomach, tracing the lines of muscle.

Kuroo hissed sharply at the touch, muscles twitching under your fingertips.

You flinched back, startled. “S-sorry—”

He laughed, low and warm, catching your hand and pressing it back against his chest. “I’m just playing, babe. Feels good. Don’t stop.” His voice dropped, teasing. “Unless you want me to stop touching you?”

You shook your head quickly, and he grinned, leaning down to capture your lips again. But this time his mouth didn’t stay there. He kissed a hot trail down your jaw, your neck, then lower—along your collarbone and down your legs , slow and deliberate. His lips brushed the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, making you squirm, before he worked his way back up. When he reached your chest, he deftly unhooked your bra and tossed it aside.

“Beautiful,” he whispered reverently before his mouth latched onto one of your breasts. He licked and sucked greedily, tongue swirling around your nipple while his hand kneaded the other. You arched into him with a gasp, fingers threading through his hair as he left dark hickeys blooming across your soft skin.

“Tetsurō… ah—!” you moaned, the sensation sending sparks through you.

He hummed against your flesh, the vibration making you tremble. After a while, one of his hands slipped lower, sliding beneath the waistband of your underwear. His fingers found your slick heat, teasing your entrance before pushing inside—first one, then two—curling just right.

“Fuck, you’re so wet love,” he groaned, pumping them slowly while his mouth found yours again in another heated kiss. You moaned loudly into it, hips rocking against his hand. He pulled back just enough to smirk down at you, eyes gleaming with mock sympathy.

“Aww, poor baby,” he cooed, voice dripping with teasing affection as his fingers curled deeper. “Making such pretty sounds for me. Does it feel that good? You’re clenching so tight around my fingers.”

Your face burned with embarrassment, and you tried to hide it behind your arm, turning your head away. “Shut up…”

Kuroo chuckled darkly, catching your wrist and gently pulling your arm away. He brought your hand to his lips, kissing your palm softly while holding your gaze, his fingers never stopping their rhythm inside you. “Don’t hide from me. I love seeing you like this—all flushed and needy because of me.”

The intensity in his eyes made your heart race. He kept fingering you until you were panting and whimpering, then finally withdrew his hand. You watched, dazed, as he sat back on his knees and shoved his pants down, freeing his cock. It was thick and hard. He stroked himself a few times, hissing through his teeth at the relief.

“Ready for me?” he asked, voice husky. You nodded eagerly, and he positioned himself between your thighs. He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, until he bottomed out with a deep groan. His head fell forward, forehead pressing against yours as his big biceps caged the sides of your head, muscles flexing with the effort of holding himself up.

“Shit… so tight,” he growled, breathing hard against your skin. “You feel incredible.”

He started moving—slow, deep thrusts at first that had you moaning with every roll of his hips. He was so big, stretching you perfectly, hitting spots that made your toes curl.

“Tetsurō—oh fuck, you’re so big,” you gasped, nails digging into his shoulders.

Your moans seemed to unravel him. His pace quickened, thrusts growing harder and more desperate. “Yeah? You like that?” he panted, voice wrecked. “Your moans sound so fucking pretty. Keep making those sounds for me, baby. I could listen to you all day.”

He drove into you again and again, the bed creaking beneath you, his heavy body pinning you down in the most delicious way. Every thrust pulled another broken moan from your throat, and each one only seemed to spur him on more, his control fraying as he lost himself in the feeling of you.

Kuroo’s hips snapped forward again, burying himself to the hilt inside you. A guttural groan tore from his throat as your walls fluttered around his thick length. He held himself there for a moment, savoring the way you clenched around him, before pulling back almost completely and driving in again with a wet slap of skin on skin.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasped, voice low and strained right next to your ear. His biceps flexed on either side of your head, caging you in as he set a steady, deep rhythm. “You’re squeezing me so damn tight. Like you were made for this—for me.”

You could only moan in response, the sound loud and unrestrained as every thrust pushed the air from your lungs. He was so big, stretching you perfectly, the slight burn melting into overwhelming pleasure with each roll of his hips. Your nails dug into the hard muscle of his back, leaving crescent marks as you tried to ground yourself.

“Tetsurō—ahh! Slow down a little… you’re so deep,” you whimpered, though your body betrayed you by lifting your hips to meet his next thrust.

He chuckled breathlessly against your neck, the sound vibrating through you. “Slow down? But you sound so pretty when I fuck you like this.” He angled his hips, hitting that spot inside you that made stars explode behind your eyes. “Hear that? Right there. You’re moaning even louder now. Don’t lie to me—you love it when I’m this deep.”

Your head fell back against the pillows, mouth open in a silent cry as pleasure coiled tighter in your belly. Kuroo took advantage, latching his mouth onto the sensitive skin of your throat and sucking hard enough to leave another mark. His pace never faltered—long, powerful strokes that had the bed frame creaking rhythmically beneath you.

One of his hands slid down your side, gripping your thigh and hiking it higher around his waist. The new angle let him sink even deeper, and you cried out sharply.

“Shit—Tetsurō!”

“That’s it,” he growled, golden eyes dark with lust as he watched your face. “Say my name again. Louder. I want to hear how good I’m making you feel.” He thrust harder, punctuating his words. “Come on, baby. Let me hear you.”

“Tetsurou—fuck, Tetsurou!” you gasped, using his name like he always loved during moments like this. Your voice cracked on the second syllable as another wave of pleasure crashed over you.

Kuroo’s grin was feral, fangs flashing for a second before he kissed you messily, all tongue and teeth. The kiss was filthy, matching the wet sounds of him moving inside you. When he pulled back, a string of saliva connected your lips.

“You’re getting so wet,” he murmured, voice husky with mock sympathy again. “Poor thing… can’t even think straight with my cock splitting you open, huh?” He slowed his thrusts just enough to grind against you in slow circles, pressing right against that sensitive bundle of nerves. “Look at me.”

You forced your eyes open, meeting his intense gaze. Your cheeks burned hotter at the eye contact while he was still buried so deep.

“Good girl,” he praised, voice dropping an octave. He released your thigh and brought his hand between you, thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight, slick circles. “You’re gonna come for me soon, aren’t you? I can feel you pulsing around me.”

You nodded frantically, hips jerking against his hand and cock. “Yes—yes, please, I’m close… don’t stop—”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he groaned. His thrusts picked up again, faster and more desperate now, chasing his own pleasure while pushing you closer to the edge. Sweat slicked his skin, making his defined chest and abs gleam as he moved above you. You reached up, running your hands over every ridge and plane, feeling the muscles flex and shift under your palms.

Kuroo hissed in pleasure at your touch, eyes fluttering for a second. “Keep touching me like that and I’m not gonna last,” he warned, though the way his cock twitched inside you said he didn’t really mind.

The pressure built unbearably fast. Your moans turned into broken whimpers, louder with every thrust. Kuroo’s breathing grew ragged, his forehead pressed to yours as he drove into you relentlessly.

“Come on, baby. Come for me,” he coaxed, voice rough and commanding. “Let go. I want to feel you falling apart on my cock.”

The combination of his deep thrusts, his thumb on your clit, and that filthy encouragement finally pushed you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed through you hard, walls clamping down around him as you cried out his name. Pleasure flooded every nerve, your thighs shaking around his waist.

“Fuck—yes, just like that,” Kuroo groaned, his rhythm stuttering as your release triggered his own. “You feel so good—shit, I’m gonna—”

With a deep, guttural moan, he buried himself as deep as possible and came hard, hips jerking against you as he spilled inside. His big body shuddered above you, biceps trembling from the intensity. He kept moving through it in shallow thrusts, drawing out both your pleasure until you were both oversensitive and panting.

Kuroo’s weight settled more fully on you—not crushing, but comforting—as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. His arms slid under you, wrapping around your back in a loose embrace while he stayed buried inside.

“Damn,” he whispered against your skin, voice hoarse and satisfied. A lazy, affectionate smile curved his lips. “You’re incredible, you know that? The way you moan for me… I could get addicted to that sound.”

You let out a tired, breathy laugh, running your fingers through his messy hair. “You’re heavy, Tetsurou.”

He chuckled but didn’t move right away, pressing a soft kiss to your collarbone where he’d left a hickey earlier. “Five more minutes like this. Then I’ll get you some water and we can do round two if you’re up for it.”

18+ Yuji has a hard time understanding he isn't like most people when it comes to sex.

cw: overstimulation, soreness from prior sex, consensual sex while sore, grinding, lap riding/couch sex, nipple play, breast squeezing, dirty talk, begging, light dominance, multiple orgasms, creampie.

note: I thought about this in the morning. Btw maybe I’ll post some Tokyo Revenger smut since the new season is coming out and i've been waiting for thissss.

Yuji has a hard time understanding he isn’t like most people. He knows he’s stronger, faster, and tougher than pretty much anyone else his age, but the full extent of how his body works—especially when it comes to sex—still confuses him sometimes. He just assumes everyone gets this horny every single day. That the urge to bury himself inside you hits him like clockwork the moment he wakes up, the moment he sees you stretching, the moment you walk past him in nothing but his oversized shirt. He doesn’t get tired. He doesn’t get soft for long. He can fuck for hours, cum, and be ready again minutes later, over and over, like his body was built for it.

And he loves it. He loves you. He loves how you feel around him, how you sound when you cum, how your body trembles and clenches when he keeps going even after you’ve already fallen apart.

The morning after he’d railed you for nearly three straight hours the night before, you were a wreck. Your thighs burned, your core ached deep inside, and every step sent a sore, tender throb through your pussy. You’d cum—five, six, maybe more times—until your voice had gone hoarse and your legs were shaking. Yuji had carried you to bed afterward, kissing your sweaty forehead and murmuring how perfect you were, how much he loved making you feel good.

You barely made it two steps out of the bedroom before strong arms wrapped around your waist from behind.

“Morning,” Yuji mumbled against your neck, voice still raspy with sleep but already thick with want. He pulled you backward toward the couch, spinning you gently so you faced him before dropping down onto the cushions and tugging you straight onto his lap.

The second your weight settled over him, straddling his thighs, you felt it—his cock twitching beneath the thin fabric of his boxers, already swelling rapidly against your sore, covered pussy.

Your eyes widened. “Yuji… seriously?”

He blinked up at you with that bright, innocent smile, like he genuinely didn’t understand why you were surprised. His hands slid under the hem of your shirt cupping your bare tits immediately, thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples. They hardened instantly under his touch.

“What? I woke up and you weren’t there,” he said, squeezing gently, rolling your nipples between his fingers until you whimpered. “Missed you. Missed this.” He rocked his hips up, grinding his now fully hard cock against you. The thick length pressed right against your swollen clit through the thin layers of fabric, making your pussy clench involuntarily.

You braced your hands on his shoulders, breathing shakily. “Baby… I’m so fucking sore. You fucked me for so long last night. I can barely walk straight. How are you already this hard?”

Yuji tilted his head, those big brown eyes going soft and puppy-like, full of genuine confusion and desperate need. “I just am. I always want you. Every day. All the time.” He leaned in, kissing your collarbone, then lower, sucking lightly on the side of your breast. “If you let me, I’d fuck you every single morning and every single night and I’d still never get tired. I don’t know why other guys say they need breaks. I could stay inside you all day and still want more.”

His words sent a fresh wave of heat through you despite the ache between your legs. You whimpered as he pinched both nipples at once, tugging them just hard enough to make your back arch.

“Yuji… I’m serious. I’m really sore,” you protested weakly, even as your hips twitched against his grinding cock.

He looked up at you with those devastating puppy eyes, lips slightly parted, cheeks flushed. “Please? Just a little? I’ll be gentle. I promise. I just… I need to feel you. You feel so good. Warmer and tighter and wetter than anything. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

You tried to stay strong. You really did. But those eyes—those sweet, hungry, loving eyes—destroyed your resolve every single time.

“…Fine,” you whispered, already reaching down to tug his boxers down. His cock sprang free, thick, flushed dark, and rock hard, the tip glistening with precum. “But you have to be careful. I’m really tender.”

Yuji’s face lit up like you’d just handed him the world. “Thank you, baby. I love you so much.” He kissed you deeply, tongue sliding against yours as he pulled your panties to the side. He lined up his fat cockhead with your sore, puffy entrance and slowly pushed in.

You gasped sharply into his mouth as he stretched you open again. Even though you were still slick from the night before and your own growing arousal, the soreness made every inch feel overwhelming. He was so thick, so long, filling you completely in one slow, steady thrust until his hips were flush against yours.

“Fuuuck,” Yuji groaned, head falling back against the couch, eyes half-lidded in bliss. “You’re so tight… even after last night. Fuck babe...” His hands gripped your hips, holding you down on his cock as he savored the feeling. “So warm. So perfect.”

You were panting already, nails digging into his shoulders. “Yuji—ahh—it hurts a little… fuck, you’re so deep.”

“I know, I know,” he cooed, kissing your neck, your jaw, your lips. “I’ll make it feel good. I always do.” He started moving—slow, deep rolls of his hips that dragged his cock along every sensitive spot inside you. The wet, obscene sound of your joined bodies filled the living room as he gradually picked up the pace.

Within minutes you were moaning loudly, overstimulated and sore but unable to stop the pleasure from building. Every thrust sent sparks through your raw nerves. Your clit rubbed against his pelvis with every downward grind, and Yuji’s hands were everywhere—squeezing your ass, pinching your nipples, gripping your waist to bounce you on his cock harder.

“You’re getting wetter,” he panted happily, eyes locked on where his thick shaft disappeared inside you. “Even though you’re sore, your pussy still wants me. Look at you taking me so well. My perfect girl.”

“Yuji—slow down—ahhn—I’m gonna cum already,” you cried, thighs shaking around him.

“Good. Cum for me. I love when you cum on my cock.” He thrust up harder, hitting that perfect spot over and over until your vision whited out. Your orgasm crashed through you, walls clamping down around his relentless dick as you trembled and gushed around him.

But Yuji didn’t stop. He kept fucking you through it, then past it, chasing another one. His stamina was insane—sweat beading on his forehead, muscles flexing, but his cock stayed rock hard, pounding into your overstimulated cunt without mercy.

“Again,” he growled softly, voice husky. “Cum again for me, baby. I can feel how much you need it.”

You were shaking, tears of overwhelming pleasure pricking your eyes as he railed you like a sex doll on the couch. Your sore pussy fluttered helplessly around him, every thrust sending you higher into overstimulation. He flipped you onto your back on the cushions without pulling out, hooking your legs over his shoulders and driving even deeper.

“Fuck—Yuji—too much—!” you sobbed, but your hips still lifted to meet his thrusts.

“You’re so cute when you’re all fucked out,” he murmured, kissing your tear-streaked cheek as he rutted into you. “I could do this forever. I love you like this. All mine. Taking my cock so deep.”

He made you cum two more times before he finally groaned long and low, burying himself to the hilt and flooding your aching pussy with thick ropes of cum. But even then, he stayed hard inside you, grinding lazily through the aftershocks.

“Round two?” he asked breathlessly, that bright, grin returning as he looked down at your blissed-out, ruined expression. His cock twitched eagerly inside your cum-filled cunt.

You could only whimper and nod weakly, already knowing you’d let him fuck you as many times as he wanted.

18+ Osamu Miya has been fucking you for hours, and this man is still rock hard and greedy.

cw: overstimulation, multiple orgasms, creampie, oral sex, messy sex, dirty talk, loud sex, mild dominance, consensual rough sex.

note: PRAISING YES PLS!!!!!!!

The room was thick with the scent of sweat and sex, the air heavy and humid from how long you two had been at it. Osamu Miya had you pinned beneath him on the bed, his dark hair clung to his forehead, damp with effort, and his gray eyes were locked on your face like he was memorizing every twitch and gasp you made. Your legs were trembling uncontrollably around his waist, muscles burning from being spread so wide for so long. You’d lost count of how many times he’d made you cum—three? Four? Five?—but your body was a slick, oversensitive mess, pussy swollen and dripping around his thick cock as he kept thrusting deep and steady.

“Fuck, look at ya,” Osamu groaned, voice low and rough, a smirk tugging at his lips as he glanced down between your bodies. “Makin’ such a mess all over me. Soakin’ my cock, the sheets… yer drippin’ everywhere, baby.”

He punctuated the words with a particularly deep thrust, the wet, sloppy sound of your pussy taking every inch of him echoing obscenely through the room. You cried out, a high-pitched whine that broke into a moan as pleasure punched through your exhausted body again. Your walls fluttered and clenched around him, another orgasm threatening even though you felt wrecked.

“Samu—ahh—too much,” you whimpered, but your hips still rolled up to meet him, greedy despite the shaking in your thighs.

He chuckled darkly, leaning down so his chest pressed against your breasts, lips brushing your ear. “Yeah? But yer still takin’ me so well. Been fuckin’ this pretty pussy fer ages and yer still squeezin’ me like ya want more.” His breath was hot against your skin. “Want me to clean it off ya?”

You nodded frantically, barely able to form words. “Please… yes…”

Osamu let out a soft, amused laugh. He pushed his hair back from his face with one hand, the motion flexing the muscles in his arm, then slowly pulled out of you with a lewd, wet pop. You whimpered at the sudden emptiness, your pussy clenching around nothing. He slid down the bed, dropping to his knees on the floor and yanking your hips to the edge with a firm grip on your thighs. He spread you open wider, staring hungrily at your glistening, puffy folds.

“So messy,” he murmured, almost reverent, before diving in.

His tongue dragged through your soaked slit in one long, firm stroke, collecting your combined juices. You yelped sharply at the intense sensation on your oversensitive clit, back arching off the bed. Osamu’s hands tightened on your thighs, fingers digging in hard as he held you in place.

“Shh, baby,” he mumbled against your pussy, the vibration making you jolt. “I’m just cleanin’ ya up like ya wanted. Such a messy girl fer me… lettin’ me fuck ya this long and still creamin’ all over everything.” He sucked your clit into his mouth, tongue flicking rapidly, then lapped lower to push inside you, drinking down every drop. The wet, filthy sounds of his mouth working you over filled the room—obscene slurps and swallows mixed with your broken whimpers and moans.

Every little touch sent sparks shooting up your spine. You tried to squirm, but he held you firm, devouring you like he was starving. “Osamu—fuck—your mouth… ahhn!” Your hands flew to his hair, tugging as another wave of pleasure crashed over you, smaller but no less intense after so many before.

He groaned into you, the sound vibrating through your core. After several long, thorough minutes of sucking and licking you clean, he finally pulled back. His face was shiny and wet, lips swollen and glistening with your arousal. He wiped it off casually with the back of his hand, licking his lips afterward with a satisfied hum.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he said, voice husky as he stood up, stroking his still-hard cock slowly. It glistened with your juices. “Think ya can handle one more?”

You nodded, eyes fluttering shut as you braced for it, body already buzzing in anticipation.

A gentle but firm hand gripped your chin, tilting your face up. “Eyes on me,” Osamu commanded softly. “Want ya watchin’ when I fill ya up again.”

You obeyed, locking gazes with him. He positioned himself at your entrance and pushed in slowly, inch by thick inch. The stretch was delicious even after everything, your walls fluttering around him as he sank deeper. You both moaned in unison—his low and guttural, yours high and needy.

“Shit… how is yer pussy still this tight?” Osamu groaned, eyes half-lidded as he bottomed out, hips flush against yours. “Fuckkkkk, yeah baby… that feels so good.”

He started moving, building up a steady rhythm that quickly turned punishing. His hips snapped forward, the wet slap of skin on skin loud and rhythmic. Every thrust dragged against that perfect spot inside you, making you see stars behind your eyelids. Your legs shook violently around him, toes curling as pleasure overwhelmed you again.

“Osamu—oh fuck—right there,” you gasped, nails digging into his shoulders.

His moans grew louder, unrestrained groans spilling from his throat with every deep plunge. “Fuck, ya feel incredible… takin’ me so deep… gonna make ya cum again, yeah? Want ya creamin’ on my cock one more time.”

The sounds he was making were getting dangerously loud—raw, animalistic grunts and long, filthy moans that echoed off the walls. Between desperate thrusts, you managed to whimper out a warning, voice hoarse.

“Samu—someone’s gonna hear you—ahh—fuck, quieter—”

He smirked down at you, not slowing down even a little. Instead, he leaned closer, pounding harder as if daring anyone to listen. “Let ‘em hear,” he growled, voice breaking into another groan as your pussy clenched around him. “Let ‘em know how good I’m fuckin’ ya. How many times I’ve made this pretty pussy cum tonight.”

One of his hands slid down to rub tight circles on your clit, and that was it. Your orgasm hit hard, ripping through your exhausted body like lightning. You cried out, back bowing, walls pulsing and gushing around his cock. Osamu cursed loudly, hips stuttering as he chased his own release, burying himself deep and grinding against you while you milked him.

“Fuck—yes, just like that—good girl,” he panted, riding out your climax with shallow thrusts before finally stilling, spilling hot inside you with a long, satisfied groan.

He collapsed over you carefully, both of you breathing hard, bodies slick and trembling. Osamu pressed lazy kisses to your neck, murmuring softly, “You did so good for me, baby. So fuckin’ perfect.” His hand stroked soothingly over your shaking thighs as you both came down.

18+ Your boyfriend Yuji is obsessed with your ass tattoo.

cw : Rough/kitchen sex, spanking & biting, ass worship & marking, dirty talk.

note: I am officially back after finals!!!

Yuji stumbled through the front door just past dawn, the morning light filtering through the kitchen windows. His mission had dragged on longer than expected, but the second he stepped inside and caught sight of you, every ounce of exhaustion vanished. There you were, humming quietly while flipping pancakes at the stove, wearing nothing but a thin tank top that clung to your breasts—nipples faintly visible through the fabric, making them look so fucking delicious—and those cheeky panties that barely covered anything. The curve of your ass was on full display, and right there, peeking teasingly from the edge of the fabric, was your ass tattoo. That little design that drove him absolutely feral.

His knees nearly buckled. “Holy shit…” he muttered under his breath, cock already twitching to life in his pants. He loved that tattoo more than he could admit out loud. It made your ass look like it was begging to be claimed, bitten, fucked, and covered. He’d lie if he said the sight of it peeking out from your panties around the house didn’t get him rock hard on a daily basis.

You hadn’t noticed him yet. Yuji moved like a predator, quiet and hungry, dropping his bag by the door and crossing the kitchen in seconds. He fell to his knees right behind you, hands gripping your hips as he pressed his face straight into your ass, nose buried against the warm fabric covering your pussy.

You gasped, nearly dropping the spatula. “Yuji! Baby, you’re home—mmph, what are you doing?”

He inhaled deeply, groaning at your scent. “Shhh, mhpmm babe,” he mumbled against you, the vibration sending shivers up your spine. His tongue dragged slowly over the thin fabric, licking a wet stripe right over your covered folds. “Missed this pussy so fucking bad… and this ass. Fuck, look at you cooking for me like this. Such a good girl.”

You giggled breathlessly, gripping the counter. “It went okay? The mission? Yuji—ah!”

He shushed you again, biting down gently on one cheek, his strong arms locking around your thighs so you couldn’t squirm away. “Don’t care about the mission right now. Just need you.” His teeth sank a little harder into the soft flesh, then he tugged your panties higher up, wedging them between your cheeks so the tattoo was fully exposed. He kissed it reverently at first, then licked over the ink with a filthy moan. “Fuck, I love this tattoo. Makes your ass look so slutty for me. Been thinking about it the whole way home.”

You moaned, arching your back and pushing your ass back against his face. “Yuji… you’re so horny in the morning…”

“Only for this ass,” he growled. One hand slid between your legs, rubbing firm circles over your pussy through the soaked panties while his mouth devoured the tattooed cheek—kissing, licking, then biting hard enough to make you yelp. “Mmm, yeah? You like when I get like this? Filthy for my girl’s perfect ass?”

He yanked your panties down roughly, letting them drop to your ankles. Two thick fingers plunged into your dripping cunt without warning, curling instantly against that spot that made your toes curl. At the same time, his mouth latched onto your ass again, sucking and biting while his free hand slapped the other cheek, watching it jiggle.

“Fuck—yes!” you cried out, pushing back onto his fingers. The kitchen filled with the wet sounds of him fingering you and the obscene smacks of his palm on your skin.

Yuji pulled back just enough to admire his work—your ass already marked with red bites and handprints, the tattoo glistening with his spit. “So pretty when it’s red like this. All mine.” He stood up suddenly, spinning you around just enough to kiss you hungrily, his tongue invading your mouth while his fingers kept pumping inside you. Then he bent you back over the counter, your tits pressing against the cool surface through your tank top.

You heard his belt and zipper, then the heavy slap of his thick cock against your ass. He stroked himself slowly, rubbing the fat head up and down your soaked slit. “Gonna fuck you so good, baby. Need to watch that tattoo bounce on my cock.”

He pushed in with one long thrust, stretching you open. “Fuuuuckkkkk, you’re so tight,” he groaned, eyes locked on where your pussy swallowed him. “Always so wet and perfect for me. Shit—”

Yuji set a brutal pace immediately, hips snapping forward so his pelvis slapped against your ass with every thrust. The tattoo jiggled hypnotically with each impact, driving him crazier. “Look at it… fuck, that ink looks so good getting fucked.” His hand came down hard on your ass again and again, spanking you in rhythm with his thrusts. “You feel that? My cock owning this ass?”

“Yes—oh shit, Yuji, harder!” you moaned, gripping the edge of the counter as your body rocked forward. Pancakes were long forgotten.

He leaned over you, one hand tangling in your hair while the other squeezed and spread your cheeks so he could watch every inch of his cock disappear inside you. “That’s it, take it. Such a greedy little hole. Love how your ass bounces for me. This tattoo was made to be covered in my cum, wasn’t it?”

His dirty talk had you clenching around him, pussy fluttering. Yuji fucked you deeper, angling to hit that perfect spot over and over. The kitchen echoed with skin slapping skin, your moans, and his low growls.

“Gonna cum soon—shit, you’re squeezing me so tight,” he panted. He pulled out suddenly, stroking his slick cock furiously. “On your knees—ass up, baby. Want to paint that tattoo.”

You dropped down quickly, arching your back and presenting your ass to him. Yuji slapped his cock against your cheeks a few times, groaning at the sight. Then he erupted with a deep, guttural moan, thick ropes of hot cum shooting across your ass and directly over the tattoo. He kept stroking, milking every drop until the ink was completely covered in pearly white streaks that dripped down your skin.

“Fuuuuck yes… look at that. My cum all over your slutty little tattoo. So fucking perfect,” he breathed, rubbing his spent cock between your cheeks to smear it around. He leaned down and bit the marked flesh one last time, then kissed the tattoo gently, tasting himself on your skin.

You were still trembling, pussy aching to be filled again. Yuji noticed, of course. He flipped you onto your back on the kitchen floor right there, spreading your legs wide.

“Not done yet,” he grinned, that bright, feral smile you loved. His fingers dipped into the cum on your ass and brought it to your clit, rubbing messy circles. “Gonna eat this pussy until you’re screaming, then fuck you again. Want you dripping my cum all day.”

He buried his face between your thighs, tongue lapping eagerly at your folds while two fingers pushed back inside you. You tangled your hands in his pink hair, hips bucking against his mouth as he devoured you like a starving man.

“Yuji—fuck, right there! Don’t stop—” you cried, thighs clamping around his head.

He hummed against your clit, sucking harder. “Taste so good mixed with my cum.” Between licks and sucks, he kept talking.

You came hard on his tongue, back arching off the floor as pleasure crashed through you. Yuji didn’t stop, licking you through it until you were a whimpering, oversensitive mess.

When he finally pulled back, his chin was shiny with your juices. He crawled up your body, kissing you deeply so you could taste yourself, then flipped you onto all fours again.

“Round two, baby,” he said, lining up his cock—already hard again. “This time I’m filling this tight pussy. But I’m still gonna pull out and cover that tattoo again. Can’t help it… it’s too fucking hot.”

He thrust back in with a satisfied groan, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. The morning light illuminated every bounce of your ass, every shift of that tattoo as he fucked you senseless on the kitchen floor.

By the time he painted your ass with a second load, the pancakes were cold and you were both covered in sweat and cum. Yuji collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms and kissing your neck.

“Best welcome home ever,” he murmured, fingers lazily tracing his cum over your tattoo. “Love you… and this perfect ass. Don’t ever cover that tattoo up around the house. It’s mine.”

You laughed breathlessly, snuggling closer. Breakfast could wait. Yuji clearly had other plans for the rest of the morning.

18+ Boyfriend Atsumu teases you mercilessly—repeating every desperate sound you make until you’re babbling on his cock.

cw: mocking, unprotected sex, Dirty talk

note: This inspired by another smut I saw here a super long time ago about Suna but for the life of me I cannot find it again. Please let me know if you know what smut I’m talking about.

The bedroom is dim, just the faint orange glow from the streetlights slipping through the half-closed blinds. Atsumu’s got you folded practically in half—knees shoved up toward your chest, one of his big hands wrapped loosely around the back of your thigh to keep you open while the other braces beside your head.

He’s not even going that fast anymore. Just slow, mean, deliberate rolls of his hips. Deep enough that every time he bottoms out you make this broken, airless little sound you can’t control. He knows it. He’s been cataloging every single noise you’ve made since he first slid in.

“‘S’too much—‘s too much—’” he mimics in that syrupy, exaggerated accent of his, pitching his voice higher to match yours from ten minutes ago. “That’s what ya said, wasn’t it, baby? When I was only halfway in?”

You try to glare but it melts into another helpless whimper the second he grinds the blunt head of his cock right against that spot that makes your toes curl.

He grins—sharp, smug, flushed high on his cheekbones.

“‘Tsumu—please—please—’” He drops his voice again, imitating the exact hiccuping way you begged earlier. “Fuck, ya sounded so pretty sayin’ that. Almost made me come right there.”

You clench around him on reflex and he groans low in his throat, hips stuttering for half a second before he regains control.

“None of that now,” he chides, slowing down even more until he’s barely moving—just pulsing inside you, thick and hot and impossible to ignore. “Ya keep squeezin’ like that and I’m gonna have to start all over again. And ya already sound so fucked-out…”

He leans down until his mouth brushes the shell of your ear.

“Listen to this—” He pulls out torturously slow, then sinks back in with one smooth stroke that punches the air out of your lungs. You can’t help it; the sound that leaves you is high and shattered and completely nonsensical.

“—ah—hn—mmph—!”

Atsumu laughs against your throat, dark and delighted.

“Exactly. That’s the one. ‘Ah—hn—mmph—’” He punctuates each syllable with a lazy, punishing grind. “Ya don’t even know what yer sayin’ anymore, do ya? Just babblin’ on my cock like it’s the only thing ya remember how to do.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders; you’re trying to pull him closer and push him away at the same time. It doesn’t matter—he’s not going anywhere.

“‘More—more—need it—’” he parrots again, softer this time, almost sweet. “That was real cute too. Ya want more, huh?”

You nod frantically even though you’re not sure you can take more. Your whole body feels like it’s vibrating, too full, too hot, too everything.

He finally picks up the pace—just enough. Long, dragging strokes that make wet, obscene sounds fill the room every time he fucks back in.

“Say it again for me,” he murmurs, lips brushing your jaw. “C’mon, baby. Let me hear all that pretty nonsense.”

You’re already gone—words slurring together into nothing but needy little cries.

“‘Tsumu—close—g’nna—please—”

He cuts you off with a particularly hard thrust, grinning against your mouth when you choke on a moan.

“‘Tsumu—close—g’nna—please—’” he echoes right back at you, voice wrecked and teasing all at once. “Yeah? Gonna come all over me again? Gonna soak my cock while ya keep cryin’ my name like that?”

You can’t answer. You just arch, thighs shaking, and let him fuck you through it while he keeps whispering every single ridiculous, cock-drunk thing you’ve said tonight—repeating them like a prayer, like he’s never going to let you live them down.

And when you finally shatter around him, sobbing his name into his shoulder, he buries his face in your neck and groans your name like it’s the only word he knows.

“Fuck… there she is,” he breathes, still moving, still teasing even as he starts to lose it himself. “Still talkin’ so sweet even when ya can’t talk at all.”

He kisses the corner of your mouth—slow, filthy, possessive.

“Say it one more time f’me, baby. Just like that. Let me hear it.”

18+ High, horny, and neglected — you let your tattooed plug inside. Choso doesn’t waste time with cash. He wants you dripping on his fingers, creaming on his cock, and leaking his cum on your boyfriend’s sheets.

cw: cheating, fingering, rough sex, possessive dirty talk, degradation, creampie.

note: Repost from my Wattpad! I won't post work here that I already posted on my Wattpad often, but I love this smut, and I just had to share it here. (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)

You'd been texting him for weeks now, ever since your boyfriend started "working late," another excuse, another night where he'd come home smelling like someone else's perfume and collapse on the couch without even looking at you. It had been three months since he last touched you—really touched you.

You got tired of sitting in your apartment alone, scrolling through the same three apps. Choso was just supposed to be your plug—nothing more. Tall, quiet, ink-black hair always tied back in that messy half-bun, tattoos crawling up his neck like they were trying to choke him. He sold the good shit: clean edibles, premium flower, the occasional perc when your anxiety got too loud. You told yourself the late-night pickups were just convenient. You told yourself the way his dark eyes lingered on your mouth when you handed him cash was nothing.

But tonight your boyfriend was out of town for "work," and you were high already, the edible you'd taken two hours ago melting your bones into warm syrup. Your phone buzzed on the coffee table.

Choso: you still need that pack or what?

You stared at the message until the letters blurred. Then you typed back with shaky thumbs.

You: yeah. come through.

Twenty minutes later there was a soft knock at your door. You opened it in nothing but an oversized hoodie and tiny sleep shorts that barely covered the curve of your ass. Choso stood in the hallway light, black hoodie up, hands in his pockets, that same unreadable expression on his face. The hallway smelled like rain and weed and something sharper—him.

"You alone?" he asked, voice low.

You nodded, stepping aside so he could come in. The door clicked shut behind him like a gunshot. He didn't move toward the couch like usual. He just looked at you, eyes dragging slow from your bare thighs up to the way the hoodie slipped off one shoulder.

"Your man gone?" he asked.

"Yeah."

He hummed. The sound vibrated straight between your legs.

Choso pulled a fat ziplock from his pocket, set it on the counter. You reached for your purse, but he caught your wrist—gentle, but firm enough that your pulse jumped.

"I don't want money tonight," he said.

Your mouth went dry. "Then what do you want?"

Choso stepped in until the toes of his boots nudged your bare feet. His eyes flicked down to where the oversized hoodie  had slipped off one shoulder, exposing the soft curve there, then dragged back up to lock on yours.

"He still not fucking you right?" The question landed blunt and filthy, no preamble, like he'd been waiting weeks to say it out loud.

Your face ignited. You hadn't told him—not outright. But Choso wasn't the type to miss details. He'd caught the way your thighs would clench together when he leaned against your doorframe a little too long, the way your breath hitched when his fingers brushed yours passing the bag. And that one night a couple weeks back—high as hell off his own product, wine-loose and bitter—you'd let it slip: how your boyfriend hadn't made you cum in months, how it felt like he was just going through the motions, how you were starting to forget what it even felt like to be wanted. Choso had listened in silence, then exhaled slow smoke smirking and muttered, "That's a fucking crime."

He hadn't pushed then. But he'd remembered.

Now his thumb stroked once—slow, deliberate—over the inside of your wrist. "Don't lie to me," he added, quieter. 

Your breath caught. Shame and arousal twisted together so tight you couldn't tell them apart. you whispered, "My boyfriend—"

"—ain't here," Choso cut in, smooth as a blade. He tugged you forward a half-step so your chest brushed his hoodie. "And he ain't been taking care of what's his. That's why you keep texting me at 1 a.m. That's why you answer the door looking like this." His free hand lifted, knuckles grazing the bare skin of your thigh just under the hem of the shorts—high enough that if he crooked a finger he'd be touching slick. "You been starving, baby. Starving for someone who actually knows how to feed you."

He was right. Fuck, he was right. Your boyfriend fucked you like he was checking a box—two minutes of missionary, a grunt, done. Choso looked like he'd ruin you and thank you for it.

You didn't answer with words. You just rose up on your toes and kissed him.

The second your lips touched, something snapped. Choso groaned into your mouth like he'd been holding it in for months. His hands slid under the hoodie, palms rough and hot against your bare waist, yanking you flush against him. He tasted like mint and the faint sweetness of the pre-roll he'd probably smoked on the way over. His tongue pushed past your lips, claiming, and you moaned so loud it embarrassed you.

He walked you backward until your ass hit the counter. The ziplock crinkled under your hip. Choso didn't care. He lifted you like you weighed nothing, set you on the granite, and shoved the hoodie up to your neck. No bra underneath. Your nipples were already hard from the cool air and the way he was staring.

"Fuck," he breathed. "Look at you."

He ducked his head and sucked one into his mouth, tongue swirling, teeth grazing just hard enough to make your back arch. You threaded your fingers through his hair, knocking the tie loose so the black strands spilled over your knuckles. He switched to the other nipple, sucking harder, one big hand kneading your tit while the other shoved your shorts and panties down in one rough motion.

You were soaked. Embarrassingly soaked. The fabric stuck to your pussy for a second before he peeled it away.

Choso pulled back just enough to look down between your spread thighs. "All this for me?" His voice had dropped another octave. "Your man know you get this wet for the plug?"

"Don't—don't talk about him," you gasped, but the shame only made you wetter.

He smirked, slow and filthy. "Too late, baby. You let me in here knowing you got a boyfriend. That makes this pussy mine tonight."

Two thick fingers dragged through your folds, spreading the slick. He circled your clit once, twice, then pushed both fingers inside you without warning. Your walls clenched around the sudden stretch. He curled them immediately, stroking that spongy spot that made your toes curl.

"Oh fuck—"

"Yeah? Right there?" He pumped faster, thumb pressing firm on your clit. The wet sounds filled the kitchen—obscene, loud. "Listen to that. Greedy little cunt sucking my fingers in. Bet he never makes you sound like this."

You couldn't answer. Your head fell back against the cabinet, mouth open, hips rocking into his hand like a slut. He added a third finger, stretching you wider, and you cried out.

Choso watched your face the whole time, eyes half-lidded, lips parted. "You gonna cum already? Just from my fingers? Go ahead. Cum on my hand."

The words hit like a slap. Your orgasm crashed over you so hard your vision whited out. You clamped down around his fingers, gushing, thighs shaking. He didn't stop—kept stroking through it until you were whimpering, oversensitive, trying to close your legs.

He finally pulled his hand free, glistening to the knuckles. Without breaking eye contact he brought those fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean, groaning like your taste was his favorite drug.

"Bedroom," he ordered.

You didn't argue. You slid off the counter on shaky legs and let him follow you down the hall, his hand possessively on the back of your neck the whole way. The second you crossed the threshold he spun you around, yanked the hoodie off, and shoved you onto the bed.

Choso stripped fast. Hoodie tossed, shirt yanked over his head, jeans shoved down with his boxers in one impatient motion. His body hit the dim bedroom light like a threat—lean, corded muscle under pale skin, black tattoos snaking across his chest, ribs, and down into the sharp V that disappeared below his waist. When his cock sprang free it was already thick and heavy, veins standing out, the flushed head slick with pre-cum that beaded at the slit and dripped slow.

Your mouth watered. You couldn't help it.

He climbed over you, knees sinking the mattress on either side of your hips, arms caging your head. His dark hair fell loose around his face, half shadowing those unreadable eyes as he stared down at you like prey he'd finally cornered.

"Spread wider," he ordered, voice gravel-rough. No question, no please.

You obeyed before your brain caught up—thighs falling open, knees bending, offering yourself like you'd been waiting for this exact command.

He didn't tease. He just hooked your legs over his elbows, folded you in half until your knees nearly kissed your shoulders, and lined himself up. The blunt head nudged your soaked entrance, parting your folds, smearing your slick along his length as he dragged it up and down once—twice—coating himself.

"Beg for it," he said. Low. Flat. Like it wasn't even a request.

"Choso—"

"Beg me to fuck you while your man's gone."

Your pride cracked in record time. Heat flooded your face, your cunt, everywhere. "Please," you breathed, voice shaking. "Please fuck me. I need it—need your cock—please—"

He didn't wait for the rest. One brutal snap of his hips and he buried himself to the hilt.

The stretch was immediate and overwhelming—thick enough to burn in the best way, filling you so completely your back arched off the bed and a raw scream tore out of your throat. He bottomed out hard, pubic bone grinding against your clit, holding there for a long second so you could feel every pulsing inch stretching your walls.

"Fuck, so tight," he growled. "Squeezing me so good."

Then he started moving—hard, punishing strokes that made the headboard slam against the wall. The wet slap of skin on skin mixed with your broken moans. He watched his cock disappear inside you, watched the way your pussy creamed around his shaft.

"Look at that," he panted. "Messy girl. Making a puddle on your boyfriend's sheets."

 Every slam of his hips punched the air out of your lungs, every grind against your clit sent sparks up your spine. You were too full, too stretched, too taken to feel anything except the filthy heat building low in your belly.

"Cum," he ordered. "Cum on my cock right fucking now. Show me how much better I fuck you than he ever did."

You couldn't answer with words—just a choked whimper as he angled deeper, hitting that spot inside you over and over until your thighs shook.

He smirked, dark and mean. "Yeah. C'mon baby."

He reached between you and rubbed your clit in tight circles. Your orgasm hit like a freight train, walls fluttering around his cock so hard he cursed.

"Shit—gonna cum inside you if you keep doing that."

You locked your ankles behind his back. "Do it. Please—fill me up—"

Choso's rhythm stuttered. He buried himself deep and came with a guttural groan, cock pulsing as thick ropes of cum flooded you. You felt every spurt, hot and endless, leaking out around his shaft because there was too much.

He stayed inside you while you both caught your breath, forehead pressed to yours. After a minute he pulled out slowly, watching his cum drip from your swollen pussy onto the sheets.

Then he smirked, dark and satisfied.

"Round two in the shower?" he asked, voice rough. "Or you want me to eat it out of you first?"

You were already nodding before he finished the sentence.

18+ Boyfriend Yuji is too focused on his game—until you decide he’s ignored you on his bed for long enough. Teasing him by touching yourself and cockwarming him.

cw: unprotected sex

note: First post here kinda nervous

You sprawl across Yuji Itadori’s bed like you own it—because tonight, you kind of do. The room is dim, lit only by the blue glow of his monitor and the faint strip of light under the door. His oversized black T-shirt rides up your thighs, the hem barely covering the curve of your ass, and nothing underneath. You’ve been lying here for forty-three minutes, watching the way his broad back flexes under his tank top every time he leans forward to shout into the headset.

“Bro, Megumi, left side—left! Inumaki, where the hell are you?!” Yuji’s voice cracks with that bright laugh that always makes your stomach flutter, but right now it just pisses you off. His fingers hammer the controller like the game is the only thing in the world worth his attention. You’re right here, thighs pressed together, heat already pooling low in your belly, and he’s too busy yelling at pixels to notice.

Enough.

You shift slowly, deliberately, letting the mattress creak just loud enough to carry across the room. Your hand slides down your stomach, fingers tracing the waistband of the shirt before slipping underneath. The first brush of your fingertips over your already slick folds pulls a soft, breathy sigh from your lips—quiet, but not quiet enough. You circle your clit lazily, eyes locked on the back of his head, on the way his pink hair sticks up in every direction under the headset band.

Another slow stroke. Your hips roll into your own hand, and this time the sigh turns into a low, needy hum.

Yuji’s shoulders tense. His controller clicks once, twice, then stills.

“…guys, hold up,” he mutters into the mic, voice distracted. You hear the faint crackle of Toge’s muffled reply—“Tuna mayo?”—and Megumi’s flat “What’s wrong?” before Yuji yanks the mic away from his mouth just enough to glance over his shoulder.

His eyes find you instantly.

You’re on your back now, knees bent and spread, shirt rucked up to your ribs so he can see everything. Two fingers glide through your wetness, parting your folds, showing him how shiny and ready you already are. Your other hand cups one breast, thumb flicking over your nipple until it pebbles tight. You bite your lip and moan again, louder this time, letting it roll out of you like you can’t help it.

“Shit,” Yuji breathes. His gaze is wide, pupils blown black, the game completely forgotten for a second. The controller sits loose in his lap, but he doesn’t mute the call.

You smile, slow and wicked, and push two fingers inside yourself with an obscene, wet sound that carries across the quiet room. “You’ve been playing for almost an hour, Yuji,” you purr, voice husky. “What are you even doing over there when you’ve got me on your bed like this?”

He swallows hard. You watch the bob of his throat, the way his tank top clings to the sudden rise and fall of his chest. On the headset you hear Megumi’s deadpan “Itadori?” and Toge’s confused “Salmon?” but Yuji just stares, lips parted.

You crook your fingers, curling them against that spot that makes your back arch off the mattress. A real moan spills out this time—loud, shameless. Your thighs tremble.

That does it.

Yuji rips the headset off and slams it onto the desk, mic still half-open so his friends can probably hear the wet sounds and your breathy little gasps if they’re listening hard enough. He spins in the chair, chair wheels squeaking, and the look on his face is pure hunger. “Babe… you’re killing me.”

“Good,” you whisper, still fucking yourself slowly with your fingers, eyes never leaving his. “Come here and do something about it, then.”

He’s across the room in two strides, knees hitting the edge of the bed. His hands—big, warm, calloused from training—grab your thighs and yank you toward him until your ass is right at the edge of the mattress. But you sit up before he can dive in, pushing at his chest until he sits back in the gaming chair again, legs spread wide. The bulge in his gray sweatpants is obscene, straining against the fabric like it’s trying to escape.

You climb into his lap, straddling him, and hook your fingers into the waistband of his sweats. “You’re not turning the game off,” you tell him, voice sweet and filthy. “You’re gonna keep playing. And I’m gonna warm you up while you do.”

Yuji’s breath hitches. “Fuck… you’re serious?”

You answer by tugging his sweats and boxers down just enough for his cock to spring free—thick, flushed dark at the tip, already leaking. Fuck, he’s so hard it looks painful. You wrap your hand around the base, giving him one slow pump that makes his hips jerk. Then you rise up on your knees, line him up, and sink down.

The stretch is perfect. He fills you inch by inch, hot and heavy, until your ass is flush against his thighs and he’s buried to the hilt. You both groan—his low and wrecked, yours high and satisfied. You clench around him deliberately, once, twice, feeling the way he throbs inside you.

“Shit—babe, you’re so tight,” he rasps, forehead dropping to your shoulder. His hands grip your waist like he’s trying not to move.

You grab the headset from the desk and settle it back over his ears, then lean in and whisper against his mouth, “Play your game, Yuji. I want to feel you twitch every time you try to focus.”

He curses under his breath but picks the controller back up. You hear Toge’s voice crackle through the earpiece—“Mustard leaf?!”—and Megumi’s suspicious “Did you just… never mind.” Yuji tries to answer, voice strained. “Yeah, I’m—uh—I’m here. Just… had to do something.”

You start rolling your hips in tiny, torturous circles. Not enough to ride him properly, just enough to keep him buried deep, to let your walls flutter and squeeze around his cock like a velvet fist. Every little shift makes him hit that spot inside you that sends sparks up your spine. You bury your face in his neck, lips brushing his racing pulse, and moan softly right against his skin so the sound stays between the two of you.

Yuji’s thumbs slam the controller buttons like he’s trying to punish them. “Left—left, damn it—Megumi, I can’t—fuck.” His hips twitch up once, involuntary, and you feel it all the way in your belly. You clench harder in response, milking him, and he chokes on a groan.

Minutes drag by like that. You cock-warming him slow and filthy while he tries to play, sweat beading on his temples, voice getting rougher every time he talks to his friends. You kiss along his jaw, lick the shell of his ear, whisper every dirty thing you can think of.

“Feel how wet I am for you? All that time you left me waiting… I was dripping on your sheets.”

“You’re so big, Yuu. Stretching me so full. Bet your friends can hear how bad you want to fuck me right now.”

Every word makes him throb harder inside you. His breathing is ragged, controller clicks erratic. Megumi finally snaps, “Itadori, what the hell is going on over there?” and Yuji just growls, “Gotta go—emergency—bye,” before ripping the headset off and throwing it across the desk.

The controller clatters to the floor.

His hands are on your ass in the next heartbeat, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. “You win,” he snarls, voice low and dangerous in a way that makes your pussy clench around him again. “You fucking win. Now I’m gonna make up for every goddamn minute I left you on that bed.”

He stands up with you still impaled on his cock, strong arms holding you like you weigh nothing. Two steps and your back hits the mattress. Yuji doesn’t pull out—he drives in deeper, hips snapping forward in one brutal thrust that punches the air out of your lungs. Then he starts fucking you like he’s mad at you for teasing him.

Hard. Fast. Deep.

The wet slap of skin on skin fills the room, louder than the forgotten game menu music still looping on his monitor. He hooks your legs over his shoulders, folding you in half, and the new angle makes him grind against your cervix with every stroke. You cry out, nails raking down his back, leaving red lines under his tank top.

“Fuck—yes—right there,” you sob, head thrown back. He leans down and catches your mouth in a messy kiss, all tongue and teeth, swallowing every moan while he rails you into the mattress.

“You wanted my attention?” he pants against your lips, hips never slowing. “You got it. Gonna fuck you so good you forget I ever picked up that controller.”

He shifts, one hand sliding between your bodies to rub tight, relentless circles over your swollen clit. Your thighs start shaking. The pressure builds fast—white-hot and overwhelming—until it crashes over you. You come hard, walls fluttering and squeezing around his cock, soaking his sweats where they’re still bunched around his thighs. Your vision whites out; you scream his name loud enough that the whole building floor probably hears.

Yuji doesn’t stop. He fucks you through it, growling praises against your neck—“That’s it, baby, soak my cock—good girl, so fucking good for me”—until the overstimulation turns into another building wave.

Only then does he pull out, flip you onto your stomach, and yank your hips up so your ass is in the air. He slams back in from behind, one hand fisting your hair, the other spanking your ass hard enough to leave a handprint.

“Still think I should’ve kept playing?” he taunts, voice wrecked. Another sharp thrust. “Huh? Answer me.”

“N-no,” you whimper, pushing back to meet him. “Don’t stop—please, Yuji—”

He laughs, low and breathless, and starts fucking you even harder, the headboard banging against the wall in a steady rhythm. You can feel another orgasm building, coiling tighter and tighter with every drag of his thick cock against your walls.

“Come on, baby,” he growls, reaching around to pinch your clit. “One more. Give it to me. Want you creaming all over me again before I fill you up.”

It hits you like a freight train. You shatter, sobbing into the pillow, pussy pulsing around him so hard he curses and buries himself to the hilt. His hips stutter, and then he’s coming too—hot, thick ropes flooding deep inside you, so much it leaks out around his cock and drips down your thighs.

He collapses over you, chest to your back, both of you panting and sweaty and trembling. For a long minute the only sounds are your ragged breathing and the distant, tinny game music still playing from the monitor.

Yuji presses a soft, lazy kiss to the back of your neck. “Next time you want attention,” he mumbles, voice hoarse and satisfied, “just climb in my lap sooner. I’ll ditch the game in two seconds flat.”

You smile into the pillow, still feeling him twitch inside you. “Noted,” you whisper. “But I kind of liked making you suffer.”

He chuckles, nipping your shoulder. “Evil. I love it.”

18+ Megumi is a sore loser and you have to make him feel better.

cw: Teasing, grinding, lap riding, dirty talk, light dominance, creampie.

note: draft #4? Hope you guys are enjpyng the daily post! i've had these sitting in the drafts toooo long

megumi fushiguro is such a sore loser.

You knew it the second his kart crossed the finish line dead last—again. The group had exploded laughter and everyone roasting him, and yeah, you’d laughed along with the rest. How could you not? Megumi, the guy who could summon something as powerful as Mahoraga, reduced to eating dust behind Yoshi and a bunch of blue shells. But while the others kept piling on, you caught the subtle tick in his jaw, the way his fingers tightened around the controller just a fraction too hard. He didn’t yell. He didn’t pout. He just set the controller down, muttered something about “stupid game,” and left the room like it was nothing.

You followed him back to his dorm anyway.

Now the door clicked shut behind you, and Megumi was already sprawled on the edge of his bed. The room was dim, only the desk lamp on, casting long shadows across his messy black hair and the sharp lines of his face.

“You didn't have to follow me, I don’t care,” he said before you could even speak, voice flat. “It’s just a game. Doesn’t matter.”

You bit back a smile. “Mhm. Sure.”

He shot you a sideways glare. “I’m serious. Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” You stepped closer, slow and deliberate, until you were standing between his knees. He didn’t move away. You leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, right where his jaw clenched. “Like I know you’re pissed?”

“I’m not pissed.” Another kiss, this one closer to the corner of his mouth. His skin was warm. “It’s Mario Kart. Who gives a shit?”

You kissed his other cheek, then his temple, letting your lips linger. “You do. A little.” Your voice dropped, teasing. “Everyone was clowning you and you just sat there pretending it didn’t sting.”

He exhaled through his nose, trying to look unbothered, but his shoulders were tense. “Move.”

You didn’t. Instead you swung a leg over his lap and settled down, straddling him, your thighs bracketing his hips. The bed creaked softly under the added weight. Megumi’s hands twitched at his sides like he wanted to push you off but couldn’t quite commit. You cupped his face with both hands and kissed him again—his forehead, the bridge of his nose, the sharp line of his cheekbone—slow, affectionate little presses that made his breath hitch.

“Stop,” he muttered, but there was no heat in it. His eyes flicked away from yours.

“Make me,” you whispered against his skin, then kissed the corner of his mouth. He turned his head just enough that your next kiss landed properly on his lips. It was chaste at first. Then you tilted your head and deepened it, tongue tracing the seam of his mouth until he opened for you with a reluctant little sound. His hands finally moved, resting on your waist.

You could feel him starting to harden beneath you, the growing bulge in his sweats pressing up against your core. Heat pooled low in your belly. You rocked your hips once, experimental, grinding down against that stiffening length.

Megumi grunted, low and rough, breaking the kiss. “Fuck… don’t.”

But he didn’t stop you. His fingers flexed on your waist, gripping tighter as you rolled your hips again, slower this time, dragging your clothed cunt along the ridge of his cock. He was getting fully hard now, thick and insistent, and every grind made his breath stutter.

“You’re such a bad liar,” you murmured, kissing along his jaw. “Acting like you don’t care when you’re this worked up already.”

“I’m not—” His words cut off into another grunt as you pressed down harder, circling your hips. His head tipped back against the wall, exposing the long column of his throat. You took advantage, sucking a mark just below his ear. His mouth parted, lips wet and shiny, and his eyes fluttered half-shut, dark lashes casting shadows on his flushed cheeks. The angry scowl he’d been wearing since the race had melted away, replaced by something needy.

You kept grinding, steady and relentless, feeling the damp spot growing in your own underwear. His cock twitched under you, straining against the fabric. Every little roll of your hips dragged your clit against him just right.

“Shit… you’re really—” Megumi’s voice was rough, strained. He swallowed hard. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Yeah?” You nipped at his lower lip, then soothed it with your tongue. “Because you lost? Or because you’re letting me use you like this?”

His hands slid down to your ass, squeezing as you rocked faster. A low moan slipped out of him before he could bite it back. His hips jerked up to meet yours, chasing the friction. The pleasure on his face was gorgeous—eyebrows drawn together, mouth open, that usual stoic mask completely shattered.

You reached between you and tugged at the waistband of his sweats. “Lift your hips.”

He did, without argument, letting you push them down just enough to free his cock. It sprang up, flushed dark and leaking at the tip, hard and heavy against his stomach. You wrapped your hand around him, stroking once, twice, thumb spreading the bead of precum. Megumi hissed, hips bucking into your fist.

“Fuck… wait—” But his protest died when you lifted up, shoved your own shorts and panties to the side, and lined him up with your slick entrance. You sank down slowly, inch by inch, both of you groaning at the tight, wet heat. He stretched you perfectly, filling you until your thighs met his hips again.

For a moment you just sat there, breathing together, his cock buried deep inside you. Then you started moving—slow rolls at first, grinding your clit against his pelvis on every downstroke. Megumi’s hands were everywhere: gripping your ass, sliding up under your shirt to palm your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they pebbled.

“You feel so good,” you breathed against his mouth, kissing him messy and deep. “So fucking hard for me. Stop pretending you didn't want this”

“Shut up,” he growled. His voice cracked on the next thrust as you bounced harder, the wet sound of skin on skin filling the room. “Just—ah—fuck, keep going.”

You did. You rode him with purpose now, hands braced on his shoulders, using the leverage to take him deeper. His head fell back again, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in a silent moan. Every time you sank down he met you with an upward snap of his hips, driving into you with growing urgency. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his black hair sticking to it.

“Look at me,” you whispered. He did, eyes heavy-lidded and glassy with pleasure. The sore loser from earlier was gone, replaced by this wrecked, desperate version of Megumi who could only gasp your name between thrusts.

You leaned forward, changing the angle so his cock dragged against that perfect spot inside you on every stroke. Your own orgasm was building fast, coiling tight in your core. “Gonna come,” you panted. “Want you to fill me up, Megumi.”

“Shit—yeah,” he groaned, fingers digging hard into your hips. “Come on me. Let me feel it.”

You ground down hard, clit rubbing against him, and came with a broken moan, clenching tight around his cock. Your thighs shook, waves of pleasure crashing through you as you kept riding him through it. Megumi followed right after, burying his face in your neck with a muffled moan as he spilled deep inside you, hot pulses that seemed to go on forever. His hips stuttered, thrusting up through the aftershocks until he was spent.

Eventually you pulled back enough to look at his face. His expression was soft, dazed, the usual scowl nowhere to be found. He met your eyes, then looked away, cheeks still flushed.

“…It was still a stupid game,” he muttered.

You laughed softly and kissed his sweaty forehead. “Sure it was. Sore loser.”