Idk why but somehow it got stuck in my head how Neji actually would react when fucking you raw the first time.
He never was a guy who felt the urge at first to feel you without a conform. He felt good when you felt good and content with him. So this handsome shinobi would not say anything else. But when you offered?
Somehow he was more whipped even when you could not see it behind his pale lavender eyes. The way they looked hungry down to the pretty pussy between your legs.
He always groaned when he costed himself in your syrupy shiny juices. You were always so wet for him. And he was patient and restrained enough as Hyuga to admire what laid in front of him. To worship it properly.
But when he was inside? His abdomen and abs flexed as he seemed to freeze for a moment. You looked up at him tilting your head.
You were so much warmer, he felt every little pulse and how greedy your walls sucked him in. How perfectly they molded to his shape. How you gasped when he pulled your thighs wider. „Fuck…“ was all he let out and usually he never cursed so easy.
Neji overall never was the gut witting up into you. Too focused on making you cum more than you could count. It letting you bounce on his cock because he enjoyed the view. But now? The first time raw? Gods he had you folded in half, newel snarling in your ear.
„This is how you feel?“ he asked not really meant as question when he was pounding you into oblivion. The obsence sound of skin against skin was heard in the room.
„God, you feel too good. So…hm warm.“ he let out before thrusting so deep you squealed. And he looked down at you as if you would be unreal. His Byakugan scribed just to see the points where he needs to hit so you would happen to gush out on him. So he fucking could cum and spill k side you when he felt how much you lost control for him…
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Warning: FWB...?, Confession...?, Protective Sex (Wrap it up), also Unprotected Sex, Multiple Sex Positions, Squirting...?, Bratty Reader (Sometimes...), Jealous Reader!, SoftDom! Guy, Praise Kink...?, Creampie, Basically, NSFW. 🤷🏻♀️
Also, be mindful that I didn't really mention much of the reader's appearance (Besides, she's a female since I wanted to keep it vague for everyone to relate as much as possible, though it is definitely for the most voluptuous side of ladies. 😊
Please be mindful that the photos are not mine, but the making of the college is.
MINOR DNI!!!! 🔞🙅🏻♀️ If you're not comfortable with this, please ignore!
P.S. All characters are 18 and up.
The sun kissed the garden patio where the group of ladies sat — drinks sweating on the table, little cakes barely touched, and her lip gloss glinting every time she burst out laughing.
“Wait — so you're telling me Iruka had your nails done with you?”
She nearly choked on her peach bellini tea, giggling behind her fingers as her friend, now Iruka’s girlfriend, nodded with pride.
“Yes! He said if I was gonna spend an hour in a chair, he might as well sit next to me. He picked this color, too.”
She held up her hand, fingers fluttering. “He said it reminded him of coral reefs and peace.”
The curvy beauty blinked dramatically at her friend. “Girl. Be serious. That man wears a ponytail and teaches children — what does he know about nail color?”
“Apparently everything,” she said with a dreamy sigh.
Across from the curvy beauty was her other friend, Yamato’s girlfriend, sipping her jasmine tea quietly, her eyes calm, her lips curved just slightly.
“And you?” She asked her other taken friend, leaning in. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that little bruise on your neck last week. Tree boy got hands?”
She didn’t flinch. Just looked down into her cup.
“Yamato’s... thoughtful,” she said gently.
That was all she said.
But the smile didn’t fade.
She gawked at her friend. “Okay, ew. You’re both in full-on simp mode.”
“It’s not simping,” Iruka’s girlfriend said, popping a bit of mochi into her mouth. “It’s what happens when you realize nice guys aren’t boring — they’re just lowkey freaks with feelings.”
She rolled her eyes playfully. “You say that now, but I’ve seen Iruka get overwhelmed by too many side dishes at lunch.”
“And yet he still folded me like laundry last night,” she said, not even blinking.
Yamato’s girlfriend choked on her tea.
And the curvy beauty howled.
Across the table, Kaito sat stiff, arms crossed, saying nothing. And the curvy beauty was too busy laughing to notice.
“Okay, but seriously,” She said, giggling. “You two are, like... in love with kind men. Who makes soup and wears sensible shoes. This is scary behavior.”
“Oh, please,” Iruka’s girlfriend scoffed. “You spend more time with Might Guy than any of us do with our boyfriends.”
Yamato’s girl quietly added:
“You call him your ‘daily motivation.’”
She grinned. She couldn't deny that. “Because he is motivational! He got me to do four squats in heels. That’s basically a religious experience.”
Kaito’s fork hit his plate with a sharp clink.
“Do you even hear yourself?” he muttered.
Cluelessly, she turned to her boyfriend, surprised. “Huh?”
He didn’t look at the curvy beauty. Just shook his head. “Never mind.”
She blinked. Her friends didn’t say a word.
The moment passed, awkward and tight.
But she just smiled, sipped her tea again, and asked:
“Anyway, what else did the emotionally stable boyfriends do this week?”
Later that night, the takeout sat between them both, half-eaten and cooling quickly. She was talking with her hands, animated, recounting something dumb that happened on her last mission — something about Guy accidentally doing pushups into a bush and her laughing so hard she snorted through her nose.
She was still mid-laugh when she noticed Kaito hadn’t smiled once.
He was just… staring at her.
“Kaito?” she asked, smile fading. “You good?”
“Yeah.” His voice was clipped. “Totally great hearing you talk about him for the last hour.”
She blinked. “Guy?”
“Do you talk about anyone else?”
Her lips parted. “What? We’re just friends—”
“Are you?” His tone was sharper now. “Because I swear, every other sentence out of your mouth is Guy this, Guy that, Guy made me protein pancakes with a smiley face this morning.”
She rolled her eyes, still not catching the storm building. “Oh my.... You’re seriously jealous of Might Guy?”
“You don’t see it?” he said, louder now. “The way you light up when you talk about him. How you drop everything to hang out with him? The way you act like he’s your boyfriend instead of me?”
“That’s not fair!” She snapped, confused and stung. “Guy’s just always been around. He’s one of my closest friends—he makes me laugh! He gets me. That doesn’t mean I’m into him!”
Kaito leaned forward, voice trembling.
“But you trust him with everything. You talk about your day with him. You let him into your apartment at midnight because he ‘brought you a post-workout bento.’ You hold his hand when you're sad, for godsakes. And when you’re happy. And when you’re bored!”
She shook her head. “It’s not like that. We’re just—”
“You let him carry you on his back after missions.”
“He’s Guy. That’s just how we are.”
He looked at her like she’d said something ridiculous. Like she was lying and didn’t even know it.
“You don’t even realize it,” he muttered.
She crossed her arms, defensive. “I’m telling you, we’re friends. He’s like—like a puppy! With muscles. And eyebrows.”
Kaito didn’t laugh.
His voice came out quiet this time. Bitter.
“So when I touch you, it’s too much. But when he calls you beautiful and lifts you onto his lap like it’s nothing, that’s just ‘friendly’?”
“…what are you talking about?”
He shook his head. “I’m not gonna beg for space in my own relationship.”
“I’m not with him!” She cried.
“But you’re not really with me either,” he said softly.
The silence that followed was dense. Humid with disbelief.
She froze. Jaw clenched. Eyes stinging without permission.
Then, quietly, Kaito stood. Picked up his jacket. Didn’t look back.
“I hope someday you realize the difference between friendship and the person you run to when your heart hurts.”
The door closed behind him.
And for the first time… she didn’t know who to call.
Except…
One name already lingered on her lips.
But that just made her squeeze her eyes shut harder.
Because Might Guy was just her best friend.
…Right?
Might Guy opened the door to a blur of tears and shaky breath.
“Hey,” His voice was gentle but alarmed — all brightness dimmed in a flash when he saw his sweet girl trembling on his doorstep. “Oh no…”
She didn’t even get a word out before she flung her arms around him, burying her face in his broad chest. His warmth swallowed her whole. The familiar scent of eucalyptus and aftershave made her tears come faster, not once slowing down.
“He broke up with me,” she choked.
Again.
Guy didn’t say anything at first — just held her tight. His arms wrapped around her without hesitation, big palms soothing over her back as if he already understood. She clung to him like a child to a kite string in a storm, fists scrunching the fabric of his shirt as she sobbed.
His chin tucked softly over her head.
“I’m so sorry, my youthful flower…” he said softly. “He wasn’t worthy of your brilliance anyway.”
She sniffled, heart squeezed tight. “He said… he said I treat you like my boyfriend.”
Guy paused.
But only for a beat.
“…And how’s that a bad thing?” he said, trying for lightness.
She gave a broken laugh — equal parts watery and confused. “He said I always run to you. That every time something good happens, I call you. Every time something bad happens, I come to you. I fell asleep texting you. I let you cook for me and train me and rub my feet and—” She stopped herself, suddenly blinking. “...Oh.”
Guy tilted his head. “Oh?”
She blinked again. Slower. “...Oh my god.”
“Yes?”
“He’s right,” She said, horrified. “Oh my god, he’s right! I do all that. I—I literally came here crying over him again. I literally—I called you before anyone else. I always call you. I always come here. I—I don’t even think about it anymore.”
Her lip quivered. “I didn’t even try to go to anyone else. I came right to you.”
Guy reached for her face, brushing away a tear with his thumb.
“Hey, hey. Listen to me.”
“I’m such a hypocrite,” she whispered, more to herself than him. “I keep swearing we’re just friends, but… I’m proving his point every time.”
“No,” Guy said firmly, still so gentle. “You’re just the kind of person who gives her heart to people who feel safe. That’s not a flaw. It’s… radiant.”
She blinked up at him, still crying, overwhelmed and confused.
“I’m sorry I keep doing this to you,” she murmured, leaning into his touch.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he said quickly, smiling softly and steadily. “I’m happy to be here for you. Every time. Always.”
She hiccupped. Sniffled. Wiped her face with her sleeve.
“…You think if I were hotter, they’d stop breaking up with me?”
Guy blinked. “Huh?”
She nodded quickly, lips pouty and earnest. “It has to be that. I’m cute! But not like… hot-hot. If I had a revenge body, maybe they’d take me seriously.”
His brows furrowed. “I don't think—”
“I need to lose, like, fifteen pounds. Not a big deal! I’ll be tight and toned in no time.”
“You’re beautiful as you are,” he said sincerely, resting a hand over his heart. “Anyone who makes you doubt that is lacking in vision.”
She sniffled again. “Aw… you’re sweet.”
He gave her a lopsided smile. “I’m honest.”
She let out a weak laugh. “That’s why you’re my best friend. The best-est, ever. You’re basically a motivational poster with great calves.”
“…Thank you?” he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck.
She snapped her fingers. “Wait! That’s it! You’re strong. You’ve got stamina. You literally do 10,000 push-ups before breakfast.”
“I—Well… Not every day—”
“Guy. You’re gonna be my personal trainer.”
He looked alarmed. “Wh—Me??”
“You’re perfect!” she beamed through her tears. “You’re the one person I can trust to help me reach my hottest self. And the only one who won’t judge me when I inevitably collapse and cry for cookies.”
“…Cookies?”
“Guy,” she said gravely. “We need a reward system.”
He laughed — loud and full-bodied, but still flushed with worry. “I-I suppose I could make a training plan…”
“Yes! My best friend! My fitness sensei!”
She threw her arms around him again. And again, he held her — a little slower this time.
But with the same warmth.
The same care.
The same silent hope…
Maybe someday, she’d run to him — because of him.
Not because someone else let her down.
*A Few Weeks Later*
“I haven’t lost anything. Not a single pound.”
She glared down at the scale like it had personally insulted her, stepping off dramatically and jabbing at it with her toe.
Might Guy blinked. “But your form’s improved! You’ve been so consistent—!”
“You’ve been feeding me like a spoiled princess,” she huffed, arms crossed. “Every time I finish a workout, it’s ‘great job, now here’s a bento box’ or ‘let’s get dumplings as a reward.’”
His brows furrowed in confusion. “A reward system encourages morale and recovery!”
She pouted deeper. “It encourages me to get chunkier!”
Guy gasped, scandalized. “Never! You are radiant, powerful, and—!”
“Chubby!”
He paused. “Chubby… with charm!”
She groaned and flopped onto the floor, arms sprawled like a pancake. “Ugh. Maybe my metabolism’s just trash.”
As he knelt beside the curvy beauty—ready to launch into another rousing speech—she caught sight of a corner of her fitness magazine pile peeking out from under the couch.
With a groan, she dragged one out.
“Don’t mind these,” she muttered, flipping through the creased pages. “Just desperate girl stuff. I've tried almost everything here—except…”
Her voice trailed off.
Guy tilted his head.
“…Except?” he echoed.
She turned the magazine around and pointed to a highlighted section:
Burn 200+ Calories With Just One Round! (Yes, That Kind of Cardio 😉)
His entire body stilled.
Then: “W-What?!”
“Don’t look at me like that!” she squeaked. “I only highlighted it because it had numbers. Math is motivating!”
“I—! You—!” He gently took the magazine from her hands, squinting at the bold font and questionable diagrams. “This isn’t even citing a source!”
She burst into nervous laughter. “I mean, technically it’s exercise…”
Guy cleared his throat, clearly rattled. “Y-you would need a partner for that kind of workout.”
“Well,” she said slowly, eyes drifting toward him. “My best friend is a top-level taijutsu expert and already guides all my physical training…”
His jaw dropped. “Y-You mean—?!”
“No!” she yelped, face heating up. “I was joking!”
“Ah—ha, yes, joking!” he laughed, way too loud. “Haha! That would be… ridiculous!”
“…Hilarious,” she muttered, suddenly very interested in the carpet.
And yet, she returned the next day.
Sweaty, sore, and annoyed. Again.
Her weight hadn’t budged. Again.
And this time, Guy looked like he had something to say.
When he handed her the clipboard, she took it warily.
It wasn’t a grocery list.
It was a schedule.
Monday – Flexibility Training
Tuesday – Core + Glutes
Wednesday – Controlled Intimacy Reps (Test Phase)
Thursday – Rest
Friday – Mutual Stamina Conditioning
...And so on.
Her eyes bulged.
Her voice cracked.
“You’re not seriously suggesting we do this.”
Guy was already halfway through nervously patting his own face dry with a hand towel. “I mean—! Not unless you—! I just thought—!”
They both stared at each other.
Dead silence.
“…This is the weirdest fitness plan I’ve ever followed.”
He nodded rapidly. “It’s just theoretical! Hypothetical! Anatomical!”
She snorted. “You made a sexercise schedule.”
“It’s—science!”
“…You spelled ‘aftercare’ wrong.”
He blinked, flustered.
She flopped the clipboard against her chest, hiding her face behind it with a muffled, nervous groan. “I can't believe it. What are we doing?”
Guy rubbed the back of his neck, ears burning.
“…Something very, very responsible?”
She peeked over the top of the clipboard, face burning.
“…Guess we better stretch first.”
He nodded, face just as flustered.
“Yeah. Safety first.”
The bedroom was tidy, almost too tidy — like he’d cleaned it twice but couldn’t quite get rid of the panic.
She knelt on the edge of the bed, magazine splayed between her and Guy like some kind of forbidden scroll. Her cheeks were burning. His were worse.
“I-I think this one has the most core engagement,” she mumbled, tapping an article that definitely did not look G-rated.
Guy peered over her shoulder, trying very hard not to breathe too close. “It requires... intense coordination.”
She swallowed hard, scanning the page. “And this one’s more of a flexibility thing, I guess... good for toning.”
“Ah, yes. Hip mobility. Very important.” He nodded seriously, like this was a sparring match strategy session.
The silence stretched.
Then, shyly, she added, “…We’re really doing this, huh?”
His fingers rubbed at the edge of the magazine. “Just for the data. Your goals. Helping a friend.”
She tilted her head. “Right. Like a science fair project.”
He gave a very nervous thumbs-up.
They both stared at the page again.
Then—
“…Should we talk about, um… supplies?”
He blinked. “Supplies?”
“Y’know… protection. Safe sex stuff.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, like it was a secret code. “Even if it’s for science, we’re not trying to get other results.”
Guy made a strangled noise in his throat. “I—I—I assumed you’d bring—! I mean—! I do have—!”
He jumped up and practically sprinted to his dresser, pulling open a drawer like it was on fire. After rummaging frantically, he came back with a small unopened box.
He held it out like it might bite him.
“Are these... adequate?”
She blinked. “You have condoms?”
“I’m a grown man!” he said quickly—too quickly. “With... proper health supplies!”
She stared at him, then broke into a helpless giggle. “You’re so prepared.”
He scratched the back of his head, smiling sheepishly. “You deserve safe, supported training.”
The words made her heart stutter.
She scooted a little closer, knees nearly brushing. “And you deserve... trust. So… thank you.”
Guy’s gaze softened. “You can always trust me.”
Another beat of silence.
Then, very softly, she asked:
“Should we start?”
He hesitated, then nodded. “Let’s... warm up first.”
They both stared at each other, blushing and anxious, and sitting in front of a sexercise magazine like it was a nuclear launch plan.
This was happening.
Sort of.
Maybe.
(For science.)
When the moment came, it was quiet.
Still.
Warm with tension — the kind that made her pulse race and her thoughts scatter. She stood beside the bed, eyes flicking toward the magazine still splayed open on the nightstand. It was just a fitness plan. Just a training schedule.
Just… science.
But the way Might Guy looked at her now — brows furrowed in concern and admiration both — it didn’t feel like just anything.
She inhaled shakily. “S-So… do we, um… start?”
He gave a short, tight nod, smile earnest but obviously flustered.
“If you’re ready,” he said, voice lower than normal — not seductive, not practiced. Just kind. Nervous. Real.
They both stood frozen a beat too long.
Then slowly… hesitantly…
She reached for the hem of her workout top and peeled it off.
His eyes widened.
She stood in her bra and shorts — soft, thick, flushed all over. Her arms instinctively came up to cover her belly.
“I-I know I’m not like, you know…” she trailed off, voice weak, eyes downcast.
Guy blinked. Then blinked again.
And then — with a small, stunned shake of his head — he stepped forward and gently caught her wrists, lowering them.
“Beautiful,” he said with complete sincerity. “You are… radiant. Full of strength. And softness.”
Her heart thudded wildly.
He smiled, rubbing the back of his neck, cheeks pink. “A-and… if we’re gonna start our, uh… scientific session… I should make sure your muscles are fully prepared. Right?”
She blinked up at him.
“…You’re gonna massage me?”
He cleared his throat. “W-warm-up! Very normal in any workout.”
She giggled shyly, then nodded and turned to sit on the bed, her back facing him.
A long pause.
Then his strong, calloused hands pressed gently into his curvy best friend's shoulders.
She exhaled on contact.
“Mmm—ohhh…”
His touch was heavenly — thumbs kneading along the slope of her neck, fingers working down between her shoulder blades. Slow, deliberate strokes. He lingered over every soft inch, jaw clenched with concentration.
“You’re so tense,” he murmured.
“You’re the one touching me, Guy,” she whined playfully, squirming as he hit a spot near her spine.
He chuckled low, then continued — hands gliding over her back, tracing down to her lower waist. She gasped when his fingers gently slipped beneath the waistband of her shorts.
“I-Is this okay?” he asked, voice hoarse.
She nodded breathlessly. “Uh-huh…”
He eased them down, slowly exposing her backside — plush and dimpled and glowing. His breath caught, but he didn’t say a word. Instead, his palms smoothed over the backs of her thighs, kneading tenderly, then down her legs, and back up again.
She whimpered softly, her body melting under his reverent touch.
He lingered at her hips, thumbs brushing over the soft curve of her sides, fingers grazing the subtle jiggle there. Then, without a word, he gently guided her to lie back on the bed — full cheeks, thick thighs, bare belly all exposed beneath him.
She watched with flushed cheeks as he finally pulled his shirt off, revealing his golden, toned torso. And then his pants dropped — leaving only boxers between him and full vulnerability.
That was when she saw it.
His briefs were being strained by a very clear, very hard outline.
Her mouth went dry.
Guy scrambled to cover it. “S-sorry! I-It’s reflexive! Muscle memory!”
She just squeaked and covered her face.
“It’s okay!” she said, voice high-pitched. “You—You’re… you’re just excited for the workout! Right?”
He nodded furiously. “Y-yes! Right! Extremely excited! Hah! Heh… ha…”
Still flushed, she slowly crawled into his lap.
She hovered above him, still soft and sweet from his hands — flushed from the massage, skin tingling, brain foggy with nervous delight.
And Might Guy lay beneath her, boxers gone, legs braced, condom in place… his length thick, pulsing, and absolutely not what she'd expected from her sunshine of a best friend.
“Oh…”
Her eyes widened at the sight of him — long, veiny, heavy between his muscular thighs.
“Th-That’s… huge…”
Guy flushed bright red and pressed a hand to his forehead in that classic bashful pose.
“W-We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for!” he blurted. “This is just… j-just scientific exploration! High-level research!”
But her legs were already settling around him.
She wanted this. All of it.
He noticed the tremble in her fingers as she reached down, and gently, he reached back — lacing his fingers with hers.
“Here,” he murmured. “Hold my hands. For support.”
Her heart fluttered at the gesture — so sweet and secure. She nodded, squeezing back.
“Okay… I’m gonna—just…”
She sank down onto him.
A long, shuddering gasp slipped from her lips.
“Ah—! O-Oh my god—Guy—”
His hips twitched at his sweet curvy friend's sweet voice, a deep moan torn from his throat as her heat squeezed around his girth.
“You’re doing so well,” he breathed. “S-So tight… You’re amazing…”
She whimpered, breath catching, her legs shaking as she lowered fully onto him.
His hands gripped hers tighter, grounding her as she filled herself inch by inch — his cock stretching her wide, making her feel every thick ridge and pulse.
When he bottomed out, she whimpered again — leaning forward, chest pressed to his as she panted against his shoulder.
“I-I can feel you… Here—” she breathed, guiding his hand to her pudgy lower belly. “You’re so deep…”
His eyes darkened as he felt it — the pressure beneath her skin, his cock buried to the base.
“That’s… all me…?” he whispered.
“Uh-huh…”
The air was thick with tension. With want. With awe.
Then — she moved.
She began to bounce, hips rolling gently at first, her hands still locked with his.
Slap. Slap. Slap.
Each soft smack of her thighs against his sent heat spiraling through her. She picked up speed, finding a rhythm.
“You’re doing incredible,” Guy groaned, voice low now, “Keep going—just like that!”
The more she rode him, the more confident she became — moaning louder, bouncing harder, the mattress creaking beneath them. Her hands tightened around his.
Her belly jiggled. Her breasts bounced.
And Guy watched her — eyes wide, jaw slack, like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“Y-You’re so… so sexy like this,” he breathed. “P-Perfect reps… perfect technique…”
She let out a whimpery giggle — still that ditzy, sugar-sweet tone — but her motions slowed.
It felt too good.
She gave in to the ache and started grinding instead, hips rolling in wide, sensual circles.
The friction was perfect that way — her slick folds dragging over his thick length, her belly pressing to his.
His breath caught. “Wh-Why’d you stop bouncing…?”
She bit her lip, eyes fluttering. “F-Feels so good like this… can’t help it…”
His hips bucked beneath her instinctively.
But then she whimpered — voice softer now, trembling.
“I’m… I’m tired…”
He blinked up at her, dazed and concerned. “Y-You wanna stop?”
“I don’t wanna stop,” she pouted. “I just… I can’t bounce anymore…”
She was still holding his hands — knuckles white with effort — but her body had slowed, grinding down with breathless, lazy pleasure.
And that’s when his grip changed.
Still gentle, still reverent — but now firm.
He released one hand and brought it to her belly. Gripped her pudgy stomach and hip with a strength that made her gasp.
“Then I’ll help,” he growled, voice husky and low. “We finish what we started.”
She whined his name as he guided her hips back into motion — bouncing her on his lap with controlled, strong thrusts from below.
Slap. Slap. Slap.
Her nails dug into his other hand as she cried out, head thrown back, thighs trembling.
“I-It’s so big—! I-I can’t—!”
“Yes, you can,” he whispered, holding her steady. “You are.”
Her skin was soaked with sweat. His chest was heaving. Her hips were moving again — fast and sloppy, as moans and whimpers filled the room.
Her mind went soft. Dizzy.
All she could feel was him. Inside her. Beneath her. Helping her. Encouraging her. Guiding her.
She bounced. Ground. Sobbed his name.
And then, like fire licking her spine—
She shattered.
Her body clenched around him. Her voice cracked into a high wail. She clung to his shoulders and came hard.
He caught her, groaned, and thrusted once more — deep, hard, all the way in.
His hand stayed on her belly. His breath punched out in a moan.
He came too — hot, thick, still wrapped safely in the condom as he throbbed inside his curvy bestie.
Silence.
Then her arms went limp. She collapsed on top of him, cheek pressed to his sweaty chest, legs shaking.
He held her.
Neither of them said a word.
Just the soft rise and fall of breath. The afterglow. The soft squeeze of her hand in his.
Eventually, she whispered:
“…Think I burned a few calories?”
He chuckled — hoarse, dazed.
“Think we broke personal records.”
It wasn’t supposed to become a routine.
At first, they were both laughing about it. Some ridiculous fitness magazines promise calorie burn through sex positions.
“Just for science,” she joked.
“Once a week, tops,” he swore.
But now?
Now it is happening almost every day.
What started as a cheeky “fitness experiment” had turned into something neither of them could really control. Something they pretended was still just training.
The laminated “workout” chart pinned to his fridge didn’t help:
Mon – Cowgirl Core Day
Tue – Reverse Endurance
Wed – Stretch + Massage
Thu – Doggy Flexibility
Fri – Mirror Conditioning
Sat – Lap Cardio
Sun – Rest… unless requested otherwise
And tonight? Tonight was supposed to be a rest day.
She was tired. A little pouty. A little sweaty. She collapsed onto the bed after squats and flopped into his lap with a whine about her thighs still aching.
“Want me to take care of it?” he’d offered, all warm hands and soft smiles.
She didn’t even mean to end up in his lap like this. But somehow, now she was sitting on his cock, her back pressed against his chest, her legs parted wide over his knees, her hands gripping his thick forearms like they were the only thing holding her together.
Because they were.
Might Guy was doing all the work.
His arms wrapped around her middle, one hand gripping her soft thigh and the other pressing into her plush belly — firm and reverent and grounding.
“You’re doing great,” he murmured warmly into her ear, between heavy, open-mouthed kisses along her neck. “Just let me take care of you. It’s a rest day, remember?”
She wasn’t doing anything but melting. Her feet didn’t even touch the floor. Her hips were bouncing only because he moved them. He was holding her — using her — up and down, up and down, onto his cock so deep it made her dizzy.
Her toes curled as her lips parted, breathy and high and gasping.
“G-Guy, I’m not even helping—”
“You are helping,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re beautiful. You’re letting me rest you. Take care of my friend.”
His hand dragged up over her belly, palm spreading across her soft tummy, and she twitched — thighs clenching, face going hot.
“D-Don’t touch that—!”
“Why not?” he said, a little teasing now, kissing her jaw. “You’ve got the cutest tummy…”
Her thighs trembled. She covered her face with one hand, letting out a desperate little giggle-groan.
“You’re so embarrassing—!”
“And you’re soft,” he added, thrusting up hard enough to lift her halfway off his lap before catching her on the way down. “Sweet. Strong. My perfect girl.”
Her nails curled into his arms. Her thighs jerked. And then, just as her head fell back in overwhelmed bliss—
She looked up.
The mirror.
He’d put it there for form checks, for posture, for alignment. That's what he said, at least. But she knew better now.
She's been watching them for weeks.
Sometimes it was fleeting—just a glance, a flicker, a flushed face turning away. But more often, it was deliberate. Addictive.
The way his body dwarfed hers. The way he cradled her, used her, held her. The way she looked, bouncing on him, held by him. Like a woman being worshiped.
Like a woman who belonged to him.
It always made her thighs clench tighter. Always made her moans rise quicker. She even—
She remembered the first time it happened. The first time she'd squirted. Soaked him. Shocked him.
“W-Was that me?” she gasped, trembling.
He was red-faced, eyes wide, grinning. “That was awesome.”
And after that? It just… kept happening. Not every time, but enough that her body now responded to him like muscle memory. Like it knew exactly what to do the second he bottomed out. Like her cunt had memorized the shape of him. The stretch. The rhythm.
And now—
Now she was seeing it all again.
Her bare, bouncing body. His thick arms wrapped around her. Her glistening thighs parted wide as he buried himself deep, again and again.
She looked ruined.
She looked worshiped.
They looked like…
“A couple,” she whispered without thinking.
His rhythm stuttered.
Her breath caught — but his hands only gripped her tighter.
She didn’t say anything else. She couldn’t. She was too full. Too fucked-out. Too caught in the way his hips kept rocking upward, slow and deep, his lips dragging along her neck as she moans bled into each other’s skin.
“Look…” she murmured again, and reached up to cup his jaw, turning his head to face the mirror too.
His breath hitched.
She watched the moment his gaze met her reflection — her eyes, her body, the way she was holding him, clinging to him like he was hers.
Like she was his.
Neither of them looked away.
Not when she reached back to fist his hair.
Not when his mouth returned to her neck, kissing her messily, reverently.
Not when she cried out and clutched him tighter as she clenched down again.
Not even as his thrusts began to stutter, his groan loud and broken into her skin — losing himself in her with a voice rough and wrecked.
They held each other through it, panting, hot and shaking, until his arms locked around her waist and her head dropped back onto his shoulder.
The mirror was still there.
So was the reflection.
So was she.
Still watching.
Still wanting.
And for a long, breathless moment… Neither of them said a word.
It started as a sweet idea.
Just a small gesture — a way to say thank you.
She’d seen the way Guy had been looking at her lately. Felt the way his hands lingered just a little longer during stretches. Heard the subtle changes in his voice when he praised her form, or held her up just a little too long after a piggyback squat session.
He always smiled.
Always encouraged.
Always made her chest ache in that warm, dizzying, more-than-best-friends kind of way.
She was tired of pretending it didn’t mean something.
So she got up early, brushed her hair a little nicer than usual, and took herself to the market. She wanted to cook for him — something protein-heavy but sweet. A reward for everything he’d done for her. And maybe, maybe… if the moment felt right…
She’d finally tell him.
That he was more than her cheerleader, her training partner, her emotional support wall of muscle.
He was the one she’d been waiting for without even knowing it.
And now, after all those weeks of brushing off her friends’ teasing, pretending the mirror hadn’t made her heart stop — pretending he wasn’t becoming hers— the curvy beauty finally understood what they’d meant.
The way she looked at him…
The way he made her feel safe and beautiful and held.
She didn’t want another thank-you session.
She wanted to be his.
So when the sweet curvy beauty turned the corner, basket swinging in hand, and caught sight of his unmistakable silhouette at the fruit stand — tall, radiant, that green jumpsuit unmistakable in any crowd — her heart skipped a beat.
And she smiled.
This was it.
She was going to surprise him — wrap her arms around him, offer to cook, maybe drop a few flirtier lines than usual just to test the waters. She’d giggle. He’d blush. And if it went really well…
Maybe she’ll finally tell him what he meant to her.
But then—
She slowed down, smile fading.
Because standing beside him — too close, way too close — was this woman.
Tall. Pretty. Laughing too loudly. And touching him.
Right there — her hand brushing his forearm like she had a right to. Like she knew him.
Like his sweet besite didn’t.
Her steps stopped entirely.
He was smiling.
That smile. Her smile.
The one he gave when he was bashful, caught off guard, flattered.
Her stomach twisted.
What were they even talking about? Was she flirting? Was he letting her?
Her vision blurred for a second, but she forced herself forward — one step, then another — the basket handle nearly slipping from her hand before her grip tightened.
Her chest was thudding, eyes trained on her delicate, flirty fingers and his unbothered stance. Her Guy. her best friend. Standing there laughing with another woman, like she wasn’t just about to confess her stupid little feelings over chicken skewers and protein dumplings.
She hated it.
She hated her.
She hated how they looked together — like something she couldn’t unsee. Like something she wasn’t a part of.
And she hated how she was going to ruin it.
How stupid it all suddenly felt.
She should’ve known. Should’ve seen this coming. Guys like him didn’t wait forever. Not even for loving bimbos like herself, who took too long to get it.
But before the sadness could sink in too deeply, another feeling surged up to smother it.
Possession.
Not rage.
Not jealousy.
Just a fiery, reckless claim that screamed inside this girl's chest.
Mine.
And before she even realized what she was doing—
She charged.
“Oh my god, babe!”
She launched herself at him.
Her arms flew around his neck like a lifeline, the basket thudding to the ground behind her as her plump body collided with his — clinging to him as if anchoring herself to something solid in a world that had just tilted off its axis.
Guy’s strong arms caught her automatically, but his body stiffened in surprise.
“H-Hello!” he blurted, voice far too loud and smile painfully polite.
She lowered her head just enough to look the other woman in the eye. The other woman, who was still clutching her bag of peaches, was plainly flirting and now blinking like she had just been splashed with cold water.
She paused, shifted uncomfortably, and gave the most awkward nod before turning on her heel and making herself scarce, as if sensing she had just wandered into someone else’s territory.
She should feel victorious.
But instead… Guy’s arms were already lowering from around her.
Not harshly — never harsh — but firm. Gentle.
And when he stepped back to look at his sweet friend, the expression on his face wasn’t bashful or flustered or sweetly surprised.
It was… serious.
And disappointed.
“…What was that?” he asked, voice quiet, tight.
Her stomach dropped.
“What?” she tried, laughing a little. “I—I was just teasing. That lady was all over you—”
“She wasn’t,” he said flatly. “She asked for help picking peaches. That’s it.”
She frowned, arms crossing. “You didn’t have to smile like that.”
“I smile at everyone,” he said, tone edged. “That’s me. That’s always been me.”
“Yeah, well…” she huffed, shaky. “I didn’t like how she was looking at you.”
“And I didn’t like how you grabbed me like that out of nowhere!”
She flinched.
It was the sharpness in his tone, the flash of frustration in his face. She’s never heard him speak to her like that. She wasn’t prepared for it.
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” she whispered.
“I didn’t expect that from you,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I thought you trusted me.”
“I do! I do, Guy—!” she burst out. “But I don’t want anyone looking at you like that. I don’t want you smiling at anyone else like that either.”
He stared at her.
“I don’t want to be your best friend anymore,” she said in a rush. “I want to be the woman you look at like that. I wanted today to be different. I wanted to surprise you, maybe even tell you…”
She stopped herself. Voice cracked. Eyes getting glassy.
“I was going to say thank you,” she whispered. “For everything. For all the help, the time, the attention. For you. I thought I finally got it — what my friends were teasing me about. I wanted to admit it. I wanted to tell you I want more.”
He blinked, throat bobbing.
“I was just scared,” she went on. “Scared that you’d never see me like that. Or worse… that someone would come along who’d take advantage of you. Of your kindness. And your heart. And I’d be stuck watching it happen.”
There it was.
The silence that followed cut deep — so deep it burned.
And then, she moved again. As if gravity pulled her toward him, and there was no resisting it.
She wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest, the tears coming fast now — hot and heavy and full of regret. His shirt dampened under her cheek as her shoulders trembled, small hiccups catching in her throat.
“I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “I didn’t mean to make a scene…”
Even with everything — even after the argument — Guy’s arms came around her again. One hand rose to gently cradle her head, thumb brushing through her hair, the other resting protectively at her back.
And then, soft and broken into his chest:
“…I love you.”
She said it once. Just once. Like it had escaped her heart before her brain could stop it.
Guy didn’t move.
Not at first.
And then slowly, he bent down, pressing his lips to the crown of her head — one hand still stroking through her hair.
“I didn’t mean what I said either,” he murmured. “I was scared, too.”
She looked up, glassy-eyed. “You were?”
“I’ve never seen you like that. All fired up. Jealous. Possessive.” His gaze softened. “I liked it. Too much. It messed with my head.”
She let out a broken laugh. “I was afraid you’d hate me.”
“I could never hate you.”
“I was afraid someone would take you from me.”
“They won’t.”
Her arms tightened. Her fingers curled into the back of his shirt. His hand at her soft waist pulled her closer. And even with the entire aisle’s attention still half-fixed on them, he held his sweet girl like no one else existed.
Until a familiar voice cut through the silence like a butter knife.
“Well. That’s new.”
They both turned.
Kakashi. Standing with a loaf of bread under one arm and a smirk under his mask.
“I didn’t have ‘Guy gets tackled by his secret girlfriend in the produce aisle’ on my bingo card,” he added. “Thought you two were just… friends.”
Guy’s brain short-circuited. Visibly.
“I—this isn’t—Ka-Kakashi—!!” he sputtered, hand flying out in protest, still holding her sweetly against him with the other.
Kakashi just blinked. “Didn’t peg you for the scandal type. Good for you.”
And walked off.
Guy looked like he might combust.
But his hand stayed right where it was — at her back, holding his sweet beauty close still in her hair, soothing her with each pass of his fingers.
She hadn’t lifted her head since Kakashi appeared. She didn’t want to.
So instead, she just stayed right where she was, whispering faintly one last time into his chest:
“…I love you.”
Guy swallowed hard.
Then, finally spoke.
“Let’s go,” he said, voice quieter now — but firm. Protective. Final.
“You’re not crying in public anymore.”
She looked up at him, eyes red and wet, lips parted. There was something… different in the way he said it. In the way he looked at her now. Not just like a best friend. Not like a training partner.
Like something more.
Like everything.
And without another word, he reached down, dropped the basket of groceries beside him, and laced his fingers with hers.
He led her out of that store like a man with a mission.
And she followed him like she always had.
Only this time…
Her heart was finally on her sleeve.
And his hand was holding it.
The moment they stepped into his apartment, the weight of everything finally settled.
She didn’t even make it past the entryway.
Guy closed the door behind them both, the quiet click echoing in the stillness. She turned to her bestie, eyes wide and lips trembling, trying to gather the courage to speak—to explain what had happened at the market, to say all the things that had been bubbling inside her since the moment her heart realized it didn’t want to be just friends.
But she didn’t get the chance.
His hands framed her face, calloused fingers cradling her warm cheeks with unexpected gentleness.
And then he kissed her.
Really kissed his sweet, curvy beauty.
It was deep, heated, hungry. Like he had waited too long and couldn’t hold back anymore. She gasped into it, her body softening against his chest, overwhelmed by the sudden surge of emotion and touch. His mouth moved over hers with the same fire he brought to training—fierce and focused—but with something more. Something tender.
She had to break the kiss just to breathe.
Her eyes fluttered open, her lush lips wet and swollen.
“I—” she started.
“Do you love me?” he asked, voice hoarse. Yearning.
Her breath caught. But she nodded.
“I do,” she whispered. “So much I couldn’t breathe when you looked at her the way I wanted you to look at me.”
“I’ve only ever looked at you,” he said, like it was the simplest truth. “Even when I didn’t know why.”
She kissed him again, this time slower—but with more intent. Tempting. Her fingers slid up his arms, brushing over the thick muscle beneath his uniform, shoulders that carried the weight of others with pride. His breath hitched.
She barely broke from his lips. “Then show me.”
He swept her sweetly into his arms in one swift movement—a bridal carry full of purpose, not just heat. She clung to him with all her heart, her kimono slipping slightly at the shoulders, but that didn't stop her hands fisting the back of his jumpsuit, lips brushing the underside of his jaw, nerves and heat building with every step toward the bedroom.
By the time he laid her on the bed, the air was thick with longing. The room glowed with soft evening light. The air between them was thick, buzzing.
His shadow hovered over her, tender and strong.
She looked up at him with tear-wet lashes. “I don’t want to be just your friend anymore. I want to be yours. All yours.”
“You already are,” he said, leaning down to kiss the words onto her lips.
She slipped the kimono from her shoulders, the silk falling away as his hands reverently traced the curves he’d memorized in movement and now worshiped in stillness. He pulled the zipper from his vest, then tugged off the green jumpsuit beneath—all in one practiced move. He stood there in nothing but awe, eyes raking over her body with a reverence that made her breath hitch.
He reached for protection from the drawer beside the bed, but her hand stopped him
“Don’t,” she said, voice barely audible. “I want you.”
His gaze searched hers. “Are you sure?”
“I need to feel you,” she whispered, eyes glistening. “I want it to be real.”
He paused, then leaned in, pressing a reverent kiss to her forehead before murmuring, “Then I’ll give you everything.”
And he did.
The moment he pushed inside, slow and steady, her mouth fell open in a silent moan. The stretch of him, the heat, the deep press of his hips—everything was perfect.
She was soft, plush, and so wet for him—her thick thighs trembling, her hips arching up in offering, desperate to feel him all. He groaned, eyes fluttering at how tightly she squeezed around him, at how her warmth pulled him deeper.
“Goodness… You’re amazing,” he murmured, lips brushing her ear. “So tight, so soft. You feel like… like victory.”
Her back arched, her hand over her mouth to quiet the sob of pleasure building inside her. “G-Guy—”
“I’ve got you,” he whispered, kissing down her jaw. “My beautiful girl… my strong girl. You take me so well.”
At first, the rhythm was slow and reverent, as if he was admiring her entire body. His body rolled against her, thick and firm, stretching her with each deep thrust. She whimpered, her arms sliding around his back, claws digging in his flesh, and then back up to his hair, raking her fingers through it.
Each stroke made her more delirious. Each whisper of praise only pulled her closer to the edge.
“You’re… you’re making me—”
“I know,” he breathed, forehead pressed to hers. “I can feel it. You’re clenching around me like you want me to lose it—ah—”
He suddenly pulled out, panting hard, sweat dampening his brow. “I-I have to stop, just for a second,” he said, voice trembling. “You’re too good. I’m losing focus—!”
But she whimpered, eyes wide and glassy, face twisted with need.
“No,” she cried, hands grabbing at his waist. “Please, I need you back inside—”
He stared down at her, chest heaving, lips parted. The way she looked—spread out for him, soft curves glistening with sweat, her thighs slick and shaking, tears pricking her lashes from the overwhelming pleasure—it undid him.
She was a mess. His sweet best friend. His now-lover. The woman who always smiled brightly, always teased him during workouts, always dressed modestly but made his thoughts immodest anyway. Now, she was squirming beneath him, completely undone.
He groaned as she guided him back in, her walls clenching again the moment he filled her. His hips jerked forward, driven by the way she welcomed him so desperately.
“Oh my—You’re… goodness, woman!” he gasped, voice breaking as he sank to the hilt. “You’re gonna ruin me!”
“Then let me,” she moaned.
She was already trembling, body jolting with every thrust, her breath hitched, her hands locked around his shoulders as her cries filled the room. She felt everything. The slick slide of his cock, the way he hit the deepest parts of her, the delicious friction of his skin against her thighs.
Her eyes rolled back, mouth open in silent rapture as she felt the wet burst of her climax drench his hips. She came hard, a gush of release splashing between them, and he moaned her name like a prayer.
“Sweetheart—!”
He thrust a few more times, rougher, less controlled—then stilled, buried deep. His whole body shuddered above her.
She clung to him, messy and wet and overwhelmed.
Her lips brushed his ear, voice barely coherent: “I love you. I love you so much. I’m all yours, always.”
Guy pulled back just enough to look at her, utterly love-drunk, heart in his eyes.
“You’ve always been mine,” he whispered, kissing her lips, her cheek, her temple. “And I swear on every training log and every sunrise… I’ll never let you go.”
She smiled tearfully, laughing through her exhaustion. “You’re such a dork.”
“And you,” he grinned, cradling her body close to his, “are the most radiant, powerful, curvaceous goddess I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
She giggled, burying her face in his neck.
“Might Guy’s eternal rival has just been defeated,” he murmured dramatically. “By the unbeatable force that is you.”
And as he held her, still buried deep, still whispering praises against her skin, she knew without a doubt:
This was the love she's always waited for.
And now it was hers. Forever.
Bonus Epilogue – The Tea After the Storm
It was a clear afternoon, the sun soft overhead as the curvy beauty sat nestled into her usual seat at the little tea spot the three of them had unofficially claimed years ago.
Across from her was Iruka’s girlfriend and Yamato’s girlfriend — two women who had known her long enough to smell drama from a mile away. And unfortunately for her, they were already locked in with their tea cups raised, eyes gleaming like predators about to feast.
She took one sip of her drink and knew she wasn’t getting out of this alive.
“So…” Yamato’s girlfriend began, stirring her tea with far too much grace for the chaos about to unfold. “Do you want to explain what the hell happened in the produce aisle of the market last week?”
“I heard there was crying,” Iruka’s girlfriend chimed in with a smirk. “Loud crying. Like, full-on emotional meltdown in front of the peaches.”
She stiffened, grip tightening on her cup. “It wasn’t that dramatic.”
“She was crying,” Yamato’s girlfriend said, turning to her. “In front of the peaches. Saying ‘I love you’ over and over. Might Guy just stood there, shell-shocked, holding a basket of whatever, like his whole life flashed before his eyes.”
“And apparently,” Iruka’s girlfriend added with a laugh, “there was a crowd. No one moved. Everyone just stared. Some people even made comments!”
“I didn’t see the crowd! I was… emotional!” She cried, squirming in her seat.
Irukia's girlfriend tilted her head. “Funny. This is coming from the same woman who gave us hell about being whipped for our men.”
“Right,” Yamato’s girlfriend snorted. “You used to roll your eyes every time we brought up Iruka’s little lunch notes or how Yamato picks flowers for no reason.”
She pouted. “That’s different.”
“It is,” Iruka’s girlfriend agreed. “Because you were worse.”
She gasped, not believing her friends. “I was not!”
“You disappeared for weeks,” Iruka’s girlfriend accused, pointing her chopsticks like a weapon. “We thought you got abducted.”
“Abducted by love,” Yamato’s girlfriend corrected. “Or maybe just that green jumpsuit.”
She hid her face in her hands with a whine. “I miss him.”
Both of them cackled.
Iruka’s girlfriend leaned forward. “Where is he, anyway? Is the man generous enough to return our friend to us?”
She peeked through her fingers with a dramatic sigh. “On a mission. Training his students. He left this morning.”
Yamato’s girlfriend arched her brow. “This morning? It’s only been a few hours.”
“Exactly!” The curvy beauty groaned. “And it already feels like eternity!”
Iruka’s girlfriend clutched her chest in mock pain. “Oh no! Not eternity! However, will you survive without your beloved bowl-cut beefcake for one afternoon?”
Yamato’s girlfriend grinned. “She’s not even sore about the market incident. She’s sore because he gave her a goodbye gift this morning.”
She slouched in her chair, fanning herself. “I hate how accurate that is.”
Iruka’s girlfriend smirked. “You’re lucky he’s always been soft on you.”
“He has,” she sighed dreamily. “Even back when we were just ‘workout buddies.’ Remember how I said he used to help me stretch before every session?”
“Oh god, I remember,” Yamato’s girlfriend said, rolling her eyes. “You’d come back looking freshly wrung out and say it was just warm-ups.”
“He’d massage my legs,” she admitted with a naughty smile, “rub out my calves, stretch my hips with those big calloused hands. And the whole time, he'd be so sweet—telling me to breathe, praising me for how flexible I was…”
Iruka’s girlfriend cackled. “You were already getting dicked down and still denying it.”
“I wasn’t denying it,” she muttered. “I was… processing.”
“You roasted us for getting soft over our boyfriends,” Yamato’s girlfriend teased. “Then went and fell harder than both of us combined.”
They both howled with laughter.
She narrowed her eyes at them, cheeks warm. “Fine. Laugh it up. But I bagged my best friend. A handstand-obsessed, bowl-cut-wearing, thumb-up-throwing, green spandex-wearing himbo who makes me breakfast after sex and calls me radiant while I’m drooling into his chest.”
Yamato’s girlfriend smirked. “So you’re saying…?”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, alright? I get it now.”
Irukia's girlfriend leaned forward with a grin. “Say it.”
She bit her lip, cheeks flushed, but she finally surrendered.
“…Nice guys do it better.”
Both girls raised their tea cups triumphantly.
“To the nice guys.”
“To the bowl cuts.”
“To the thick thighs that save lives.”
She laughed, breathless and glowing, still warm from his touch, still aching from his absence.
And despite all the teasing, one thing was clear:
You were absolutely, shamelessly, and fully loved.
༄𝒯𝒲／𝒞𝒲：18+ mdni, established relationship, fem!reader, pwp, choking, not proofread, possible dacryphilia, p in v sex, unprotected sex
𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: pent up after a mission, sasuke just needs some stress relief <33
ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶ ✦ . . ˚ . ★⋆ . ˚ . ★⋆. ࿐࿔
Sasuke fucking you from behind while you were practically trembling underneath him from how hard he’s been fucking you, was truly a sight to see. Him coming home from a mission and being kind of pent up was nothing new, but today the usual greeting at the front door of your shared home that consists out of a big hug and countless kisses, ended up in you on your shared bed on all fours.
To him you just looked too fucking pretty, even from behind. The way you just arched so perfectly for him taking ever last inch of his thick cock into your drooling cunt until you couldn’t take him any further, the way your cute pussy clenched around him and even gripped his cock while creating a white circle of your juices on the base of it and even the way your ass shaked with each of his hard thrusts. He loved it. No, he savoured it. The feeling of your warm gummy like walls tightening and clenching around him made his mind just go blank, and you could feel it. His large hands that were holding you in place by your hips and occasionally smacking your ass, with fingers that were now digging even deeper into your soft skins than before.
sasuke started ramming his cock even deeper into your warm walls, his one hand traveling from your waist to your neck, forcing you up as he lowers himself down so that he’s next to your ear. Whatever filth hes whispering into your ear right now, you didn’t hear tho, you didn’t even register it because of how cock drunk you were. You were a complete moaning mess, lewd sounds escaping your plump parted lips with each of his sharp thrusts. His huge dick bullying his way into your pussy just felt too good, his cock filling you up to the brim making every single thought that was left in your head completely disappear.
With each sound you made, each one of his thrusts and each time your pussy clenched around him so harshly, sasuke felt his own release getting closer and closer. Planting kisses alongside of your neck, your tear stained cheeks pressing against his head he picked up his pace one more time until he was practically railing you as if there was no fucking tomorrow.
You were a moaning mess already but the fast pace of sasukes hard thrusts and the sensation of his lips against your neck, his balls that were slapping against your poor clit ultimately sent you over the edge. With a loud moan that escaped your lips and your legs on the verge of giving up, your pussy clenched one last time around him, drenching his thick cock in your juices as he fucked you through your orgasm. As he fucked you through your high, his own released finally washed over him. With one last thrust he came inside of you letting out and almost guttural groan as he does, painting your walls white with his thick creamy cum as he nuzzled his head into the crook of you neck.
Warnings: Dub!con, yandere themes, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of baby trapping, Stockholm syndrome, manipulative Itachi, pregnancy of breeding!kink. Itachi is still soft because yeah >\\< and fluffy if you squint
It's the ridiculously delectable way, her doe-eyed self cowers down beneath him whenever she loomed in his presence. He adores her, watching her fidget every time Itachi says something, every time he glances at her unmomentarily. She is akin to a deer, and Itachi- a lion, a ruthless, sadistic lion wanting nothing more but to tame his prey, but no- he doesn't just want to prey on her, he wants to love her. He wants her to love him, to subdue everything she can for him.
It's the way he always excuses his behavior with the sentence that chains her neck, boiling down her very core. "It's all to protect you, to keep you safe." When he addresses her as an 'Angel' she loses a little faith in god, because no angel's wings should be pinned down as hers, the way Itachi does it.
No, he does not hurt her, but he does make sure she doesn't hurt herself, sometimes confinement and solitude is the most amicable way to stem down the essence of a punishment and a lesson. Treason, if you will.
He still feels insanity grip the very nerves of his self when she approaches him, slouching as if she'd break if she stood tall. He would break her for standing tall & sniveling at him to let her go. "Hmm, maybe bestowing you with some responsibility will help, you've become quite air-headed, dear Y/N."
Oh, it desolates his perfect, controlled mind when he imagines her tiny self inflated with his seed, having trouble pacing around, needing Itachi with every little beck and call, the vulnerability which will come with her last semester, how she will struggle to hold her urine when the little Uchiha would kick and eagerly wait to see Mother and Father... how adoring.
It starts slow, after months of living together with Itachi, she knows how to read him, how Itachi's eyes glint towards the impending, she wouldn't be unjust, Itachi treats her kindly when he demands something, especially when it needs his fragile, male ego stroked and petted.
So she complies, as he spreads her apart naked, pupils visibly dilated as his gaze turns tender, more subtle. As if she'd break under him, a vile part of him wants to break her instantly. Itachi is a paradox, after all. "It's okay, my angelic little thing." You're doing so well for me. His luscious, long hair tickles her tender breasts as Itachi leans in, kissing her neck, scraping at the sensitive, irritated skin & deviously marking her up. "Oh no, don't cry, I'm going to be gentler." He dotes on her being a sensitive crybaby, can't handle his length, can't handle him.
Oh but the little being Itachi owns, is ferocious on her own, knowing most ardently she has him in her grip, "Wa-ant to go out after this." She manages to barely choke out when Itachi's member ravishes her cunt, thrusting, rutting his hips inside, churning them up to his shape. Itachi couldn't say no to that face, the future mother of his kids. "Anything... Angel."
"Will you let me fill you up?" Itachi asks though she doesn't have any choice but to, Itachi is a master, a sorcerer of illusions and to earn her goodness, to pretend she owns the decision of freedom, ever so fleeting choices that are nothing but a mirage; Itachi loves that.
She nods, biting her lip like an anxious child, the background thoughts all super setting the imagery of her being pregnant, she's too far gone now though. Stockholm Syndrome hugs her every night along with the slender arms of her lover. She wants to please him, simultaneously hating herself for the same as she nods, feeling the thrusts slow down, sloppy and then the warmth of his seed deep inside her gummy walls.
my favorite troupe is teasing/taunting itachi sm sm sm calling him a soft dom vanilla dom over and over and over until he just snaps and now you borderline love and hate it. “shouldn’t have gone that far, angel.” now its his turn to taunt on how you can’t take it when hes mean by pointing the tears in your eyes. “chew more than you can swallow and this is what happens”
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I've beeen having this thrist stuck in my head...hear me out...
Naruto sneaking into your room at night to fool around with you 🙈 but trying to keep quiet and not wake up your household??? Oof....SEND HELP SOS.
Wow this spoke to me on a spiritual level
~~~~~~~~~~~~
“What’re you—“
Naruto shushes you as he continues to slither in through your window. You sit up in your bed, watching him as he lands quietly on his face, way more gracefully than you’re used to for the boisterous blond. “Had to come see you… Missed you…” He murmurs as he crawls on your bed, his body hovering over yours without preamble. He’s already nuzzling at your neck, forcing your head back to give him access to the bare flesh there.
“Gotta be quiet, baby,” he mutters before beginning to trail open mouthed kisses over your neck, making you sigh in pleasure. “Don’t wanna wake anyone up, do we?”
The feeling of his lips has whatever questions or protests you may have had. His hands are already moving up from your hips over your breasts, and god with that low, raspy instance, how can you deny him?
You nod in agreement, and Naruto takes the invitation without hesitation. He nips at your neck before harshly sucking at the skin there, making you gasp and hiss, but he’s quickly shushing you with a kiss. His mouth presses against yours, hot and needy, and he doesn’t even bother working up from something slow and sweet. His tongue is quickly forcing its way into your mouth, and its all you can do to keep up. Just as your hands are threading into his hair, holding on for dear life, his hands are forcing their way up your shirt. His fingers quickly find your nipples, pulling and tweaking in the way that you like, and it has you mewling into his mouth.
“Quiet, baby,” Naruto shushes you, but you keep feel the way he smirks against your lips. He’s doing it on purpose. Does he *want* you to wake up the whole house?
“Want you,” you whisper, unthreading your fingers from his hair to try and grope him over his basketball shorts. “Wanna touch you…”
Naruto removes one hand from where its playing with your hardening nipples to grab both your small hands in his large one. He pins both your hands above your head. His movements are aggressive and rushed. He’s needy, *really* needy, and he doesn’t want to waste anytime.
“Nu uh,” he growls against your lips. “Don’t want foreplay… Wanna be inside you.”
The hand that’s no holding yours trails to your pj bottoms. He shoves them down and his fingers return to play with the string of your thong. You think he’s going to pull it down next, but he doesn’t bother. Naruto’s gotten his own shorts and boxers kicked off, and he only pulls your thong aside before he’s shoving his cock inside you.
You moan out instantly, but Naruto’s big hand goes over your mouth, muffling the noise. “Shh,” he hisses as he begins shallow, rough thrusts that have your breasts bouncing against the confines of your shirt.
“Be quiet…” Naruto grunts with another hard thrust, his head dropping down to the crook of your neck. “Be quiet, and. Just. Take. It.”
Each word is emphasized by his hips smacking into yours with such force that your head board is hitting the wall. All you can do is moan and whine behind his hand that’s forcing you to stay quiet.
“Take it, baby. Take my cock. *Fuck,* you feel so fucking *good.*”
Naruto’s the one who’s telling you to keep it down, but he’s making all the noise. His whispers are getting louder, the headboard hitting the wall with *smacks* now.
“Yeah baby. Good. So good. So fucking good… Fuck baby, I’m gonna cum. Do you want me to cum? Tell me you wanna cum!”
The hand over you mouth moves down to your neck, and his fingers wrap around it, squeezing.
“Y-yeah,” you gasp the best you can, your eyes rolling back as he angles his hips upwards. His dick hits that spot that has you seeing stars, and you’re practically begging now. “Yeah, baby. Cum. Please cum, I want it!”
You’re cumming as soon as the words leave your mouth, spasming and clenching around him tightly with a cry.
Naruto’s hips stutter against your own. They stop as he bottoms out, then pick up again. One, two, three more thrusts and he bottoms out one last time, hips resting completely against yours as he cums. You can feel him pulsing inside of you as spurt after spurt fills you up. The pulsing lasts seconds, and until it finally stops. Warmth fills you, and you can feel him beginning to leak around where he has you plugged.
Naruto is panting hard, catching his breath. He picks his head up finally to look down at you, and he gives you a sheepish, goofy grin, so different from the harsh, dominant figure he just was.
“Fuck,” he breathes out. You grin back up at him, but before either of you can say a word, a banging comes at your door.
Naruto freezes, eyes wide, as you flush with embarrassment.
Which Naruto characters do you think are most likely to have a daddy kink?
Oh, anon... what a thought!
My head went straight into detective mode as I sussed out who would be leashed by such a kink. There were a few others I was on the fence about, but the ones listed at the bottom I'm pretty convinced about! ^^
tw: daddy kink, mating press, dirty talk, overstimulation, unprotected sex
Daddy Thirst
“That’s it, baby. Feel good, hmm? You like my cock buried in your cute little cunt?”
No man should sound so damn sexy as he spouts the filthiest of words, but he manages it with ease.
You can only whimper as the burn in your thighs intensifies from the mating press you’re been held in for what feels like an eternity. Your knees dig into your chest, squishing your tits together with taut nipples straining for attention.
He is relentless with his thrusts, deep and powerful to hit that special spot in your front wall over and over. This is no jackhammer pounding, oh no, he knows how to treat you right.
How to ensure tears will cloud your big doe eyes, little sniffles emitting as you whine about how it’s too much. So fucked out from his cock and the endless stream of orgasms he has ripped from your sweat-soaked body.
“Who fucks you this good, baby? Tell me,” he grunts coarsely.
A thumb wipes away the trickle of tears to paint your skin, a conniving smile decorating his lips as his hips never falter.
His release is near; pressure rising like molten lava in the pit of his stomach, balls heavy and aching to turn your insides entirely white.
He knows what he needs to hear to tip him over the edge, to end your overstimulation at his hands. Your cunt clenches around his stuttering shaft as you mewl, your head rolling back on the pillow as you find enough of your voice to finally answer.
hi jordan 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 i saw ur ask and i swear ilysm and i will answer it don’t worry ! i wanna see how many more people send me an ask👀 i really love all this attention and wanna wake up to a flooded inbox :( BUT before i forget i was wondering if you can indulge a thirst of mine as a mini present, it’s okay if you can’t !!!!
but im wondering how obito would act when my birthday come around?🥺 talking about him earlier got me in a mooood and i still haven’t gotten out of it
26/09/22 | obito x sosa
synopsis ↬ obito just wants your special day to be exactly that; special.
themes ↬ fem! reader, nsfw, 18+, fluff, smut, soft sex, unprotected sex, raw sex, birthday sex, missionary, creampies, breeding, soft boy obito, he’s a whole mess, but in the best way possible, he loves you lots n lots
word count ↬ 0.8k
a/n ↬ i know that i’ve already sent birthday wishes to you, but here are some extra special uchiha forehead taps to go along with this thirst. sorry for spamming your dms about this,, i just wanted to make sure that it was right bc i was just so excited when i received your request. i really hope that you not only enjoy the read, but i also hope that you’re having a wonderful birthday. this one is from me, to you, sosa
obito, admittedly, has been so busy with preparing for your birthday that when the day finally dawns, he actually forgets.
he’s spent the last two weeks stressing about what gift to buy, because, fuck, he’s never done this before, and although kakashi has told him that he’s pretty sure that you’d be happy with just about anything that obito would give you, when the eve of your birthday had arrived, he’d rushed to buy something, anything that would somehow convey just a fraction of his love for you.
he’d been picky, and after the longest three hours of kakashi’s life, he’d finally settled on a dainty chain, decorated with a simple leaf-shaped charm.
the night before, he’d double and triple checked the plan for tomorrow’s evening, the morning kept free due to the fact that he already knew that you’d want to lounge in bed until at least noon. and whilst you’re busy showering after dinner, he takes the time to carefully wrap the velvet-lined box that he’d purchase earlier, and manages to write a message in the best hand that his messy scrawl can produce.
he goes to bed that night, nervous, but confident that he’s ready to share your special day with you, only, when he wakes the next morning, you’re already peering at him, wide awake. your soft smile greets him, and he instinctively returns it with the lazy upturn of the corner of his mouth. his limbs stretch, and as a groan is expelled from his lungs, he reaches for you, just like he does so every morning. you curl into him, giggling when he releases a low moan of protest when the cold of your toes press to his shin.
his lips seek yours, fingers tilting your chin towards his as your thumb comes to lovingly stroke over the scarring of his right cheek. it’s taken several years for him to grow out of the habit of flinching whenever you touch him like this, and so when you do so this time, he’s all but purring under your attentions.
it doesn’t take long for his cock to stir, the length already engorging with blood as it rests upon your thigh, and he’s soon shifting to lie atop you, pressing his weight in all of the right places as he cages in on you.
this morning, he makes love to you with sleep hazing his thrusts that are uncharacteristically languid, and whilst he’s usually quite vocal in bed, this time, each sigh and moan of your name is sweetly murmured into the crook of your neck, his lips latching onto the sensitive skin. the length of his cock idly glides and teases at the soaked walls that eagerly suck him in with each forward cant of his hips and he rolls his groin against yours, balls pressed tight to the plush of your lower cheeks, his smooth, rounded tip kissing at your cervix with each thrust that steals your breath.
and when you moan so prettily like that, what choice does he have but to spill into you, stuffing your cunt until his seed claims it as his own?
heart hammering away in the depths of his chest, his lips mould to yours, and he kisses you so softly that it makes you feel giddy with excitement. your face feels warm when those dark orbs lock onto yours. his mouth stretches into another of those smiles that have yet to fail to make your stomach twist with nerves, and your breath is stolen from your lungs when his nose bumps to yours, his eyelids drooping shut.
‘love you.’
the words aren’t unfamiliar to you—you’ve heard him say them plenty enough. but to have him say it today, of all days, makes the corners of your eyes crinkle as you beam back up at him.
‘love you too, ‘bito.’
he’s still buried within you as you return the sentiment, and thus, you’re able to feel the twitching of his length as it reawakens, slowly filling your white-stained walls once more. your index finger crooks as it strokes down the bridge of his nose, and you hum a gentle titter of laughter that has his cheeks reddening.
‘don’t think i’ve ever had birthday sex before,’ you’re hiding a yawn with the back of your hand, only noticing the way that his entire body stills against yours, his eyes widening. there’s a pause, and upon squinting at the look of sheer horror that comically plasters itself onto his face, your brows raise quizzically. ‘’bito?’
the bedsheets are suddenly flying in the air, and his cock is harshly tugged from your pussy in a way that actually makes you squeal aloud. he pauses his rush in order to press a quick, apologetic kiss to your mouth, ‘sorry, sorry, sorry—‘m so fuckin’ sorry—’
and then he’s tripping over his own feet in order to scramble from the bed, door almost thrown off of its hinges as it ricochets from the wall behind it. you are left tangled in a mess of sheets, and you can only gawk at the sight of his very naked behind hurriedly disappearing down the hallway.
