#thot$

of course i’ll keep my fist tightly in your hair the whole time, gripping hard so you can’t pull away. i’ll just keep bucking my hips up and up and up, forcing my thick cock deeper into that warm, sloppy throat until your poor mouth gives up completely. you’re choking everywhere. spit dripping down your chin, tears running down your face, gagging and gurgling around me like the perfect fucktoy you are.

i want to watch your mascara run while i hold the blunt to your lips between thrusts, making you inhale deep while my cock is still stuffed down your throat. every time you cough and sputter i just laugh low and push in harder. your throat convulsing around me feels too good. i don’t care if you can barely breathe.

hmmmm yes. bookstore employee kakashi who helps sell jiraiyas lil smut novels, except no one really sees him cause he always reading on the lofted ladders that help get the high shelves, but he he makes his occasional appearance to throw things at naruto when he threatens to spoil the books for a customer in rants about his disgust.

you, however, are lucky, having those rough fingertips brush past you when you try to reach for something on a higher shelf, kakashi handing the book down to you with a smile that makes your knees go weak.

he offers to ring you up so you can avoid the blonde nuisance at the register, slipping in a complimentary bookmark. when you crack open the fresh book you see a little note on the bookmark, his number, followed by "im pretty well versed with some of the positions in here."

oh jean. my first love. i love thinking about how flustered art student jean gets when he first tries to ask you, the pretty girl he sees sometimes at the other booth in the coffee shop to be his model for class. he's seen you around campus several times before, at the occasional party or two, and he can't help but wonder if he could try to do you justice if he sketches you, if he could catch the way the light hits your skin and makes you look like you glow from within and the soft warmth you seem to radiate. you've seen him get up randomly and sit down, and eventually, youre the first one to make a move, sending him a new coffee when he puts his paintbrushes absentmindedly in his mug, jean stammering a thank you and then rushing through the question at first. you blink back, taken aback by the responsibility, and jean panics, prepared to tell you to forget it but then you crack a smile and agree, handing him your number for further details.

the studio is a plain white room, housing just the two of you as jean prepares his canvas. hes stunned when you walk in with a thread bare shirt underneath the jacket you shrug off, the white linen hiding very little to the imagination, but not that jean minds, in fact, he's glad that theres a canvas that will his lower half from you. he wants to ask why, but his mouth goes dry, but once again you come to the rescue.

i think about itachi being the university's best tutor. everyone loves him, for his patience and intelligence, not mention that it helps that he's easy on the eyes. he's always booked out, but whenever you text him, he manages to squeeze sometime in for you so that physics 301 is not as much of a death sentence.

he's calm when he walks you through things, only chuckling when he sees you frustrated when you get a question wrong only to pick up the pencil from your hands to show you how its done. he always sits a bit too close, youre a breaths distance away, and you justify by saying that its so that you can both see the paper best, but when you can feel your thighs touch, and that nail polished hands of his brush against your knee, ringed fingers ghosting over the softness of your thighs,

you become very compelled to see what he knows about anatomy.