In theory I’m a gentle dom but in practice I’m an asexual named Ace (20s). They/Them. @helloitsace0space’s side blog for nsfw stuff, mostly reblogging smut fics. Might write and/or draw my own stuff someday. Current hyperfixations: Stardew Valley, One Piece, Date Everything
Pairing: Asahi Azumane x AFAB Reader
Word Count: ~3k
Date Published: October 17, 2024
WARNINGS: 18+ Minors/Ageless get blocked, Sub!Asahi, Size Difference, Skirt+Thigh Highs Kink, Handjob, Praise Kink, Vaginal Sex, Hair Pulling, Creampie, Reader is AFAB but no gender is specified
Note: Terms such as pussy/cock/etc. get used. Reader refers to Asahi using terms like 'Sweetheart', 'Good Boy', and 'Love'. If that makes you uncomfortable, you might want to skip this fic.
Summary: Your boyfriend tries to surprise you with a cute outfit he thought you'd like, but he's over six feet tall and the skirt is much too short for him. You love it even more for that very reason.
You can also read it on AO3!
Kinktober 2024 Masterlist
Carrying a basket on your hip to your room, you knocked on the closed door before going inside. Asahi was sitting on the opposite side of the bed with his back facing you, his shoulders tensing when the door opened despite your knock to give him warning that you were coming in.
"You haven't made the bed yet?" You questioned while seeing the old sheets and blankets still on the mattress. Setting down the laundry basket, you began to put away the clean clothes in the dresser.
"Oh, uh....no." Asahi muttered while keeping his back facing you.
"What have you been up here doing then?" Your brows knit together as you picked up some folded shirts to put them away. Asahi didn't answer and instead lowered his head while fiddling with the sleeves of his sweater. "Asahi?" You watched his shoulders rise as his head lowered more.
You felt concern beginning to grow from his lack of response. Looking closer, you saw the tips of his ears were bright red. You sighed through your nose while putting away more clothes.
"If you fell asleep, there's no need to be embarrassed."
"I-I didn't fall asleep." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.
"Then what's wrong?" Your tone was gentle to try and coax the man into speaking.
"I, uh...." Asahi trailed off, going quiet again. You looked at him for a second while being patient to let him have time to respond. Whatever it was, he didn't yet have the courage to say it.
Leaning over to the nightstand, you picked up your water to take a drink while turning around to put away more clothes. You heard Asahi get up from the bed and take a few hesitant steps.
"I...." He tried speaking again until his voice cracked. You didn't know why he was so nervous, but you had learned by now that if you gave him a moment, he'd eventually say what he wanted to. "You said you liked stuff like this....but I think it's too small."
You looked to see what he was talking about only to spit out your water all over the dresser mirror. Asahi stood a few feet away while shifting on his feet and blushing so deeply that his entire face was red. His knuckles were white from how hard he was gripping the fabric of the skirt he wore while trying to pull it as far down as it would go since it barely covered anything at all. The mini skirt accented his long legs that were covered up to mid-thigh by pretty black thigh highs with cat faces near the elastic bands.
The fabric of the thigh highs was stretched thin from barely being able to contain the muscles of his thighs. His sweater was the only thing that seemed to fit his large frame, but the cute clothes and his blushing face had your brain short-circuiting.
"Is it that bad?!" Asahi began to panic at your reaction before you threw up your hands and shook your head.
"No! No, not bad! Not bad! You just surprised me!" You quickly explained as Asahi's blush deepened even more. "I wasn't expecting to see-" Your gaze dropped back down to his thighs as they were pressing together from him still trying to cover as much of his exposed skin as possible.
It was almost enough to make you rabid on its own.
Your sweet boyfriend was like a deer, so timid and flighty, but at times such as this, it made you feel like a wolf drooling and eager to sink your teeth into the flesh peeking out between his thigh highs and skirt. He was gorgeous even when he looked so nervous he might burst into tears.
"Yeah, that, uh, that's really small on you." You managed to finally speak again after clearing your throat. "Did you not check the sizes?"
"These were the biggest ones they had." Asahi shifted on his feet again and raised one hand to cover his blushing face as he averted his gaze. It took every ounce of power you had to not pounce on the man.
"And you're saying you did this for me?" You slightly tilted your head to the side while looking Asahi up and down, drinking him in detail by detail. He gave a small nod, making a smile pull at the corners of your mouth. "Then let me see." Asahi looked at you again with wide eyes.
"B-But-"
"C'mon, sweetheart. Just give me a once-around." You waved your finger in a circle to emphasize that you wanted him to turn around and let you see everything. Asahi gave a small whimper of embarrassment. "Take your time. I only want to appreciate this."
He looked at the ground before gripping the skirt tighter. Asahi slowly began to turn and your gaze went back down. You bit your bottom lip when you saw the mini skirt couldn't even cover his ass all of the way, giving you a nice peek of bare skin.
"You don't have underwear on?" You questioned with a quirked-up brow. Asahi quickly tried to pull the skirt down over his rear while looking at you from over his shoulder.
"I-I don't have any short enough!"
"Hey, I'm not judging." You waved your hand while getting closer to him. "You're just so damn sexy." Your voice purred as you grabbed his hands to pull them away from his skirt. Looking down at his ass and thighs, you couldn't stop thinking about having your head under that skirt and between his thighs or having him bouncing on your strap while the skirt fluttered.
Your hands groped the back of his thighs before sliding up to cup his ass. Asahi squeaked but didn't move away from you. Your fingers traced the crease where his rear and the top of his thighs met, making him shiver.
"You're so good to me, Asahi. I really do like this." You grabbed his hips to turn him around. His face was buried in his hands, his ears bright red as his blush was spreading down his neck. When your gaze dropped, you could see the man was already half hard with the way the fabric of the skirt was being lifted.
Smirking, you guided him toward the bed before slipping one hand between his thighs. Your fingers ghosted over his inner thigh, feeling him twitch as you went higher. Before you reached the apex of his legs, you pulled your hand away. Reaching up instead, you moved his hands away from his face.
"There's my pretty boy." You cooed while lacing your fingers with his. "Can you give me a kiss?" You asked while leaning up since Asahi was taller. He swallowed as his grip on your hands tightened. He hesitated before leaning down to bring his face closer. You smiled just before he kissed you. "That's it." A soft whine came from the back of his throat.
His big hands dwarfed yours as they shook but never let go. Looking into his eyes, you saw his pupils widening as he stared at your lips. Asahi sat down on the edge of the bed to be closer to your level.
"You wanna kiss me again, handsome?" Your smile was inviting as your voice drew Asahi closer. His thumbs brushed over yours in a comforting way before his lips met yours for another kiss.
Without pulling away, you slid your knee between his to spread his legs. You were able to get closer to him now and deepened the kiss. The scruff on his chin scratched at your skin when you slipped your tongue into his mouth. His breath was heavier, and you let go of one of his hands to cradle the back of his neck. Asahi placed his free hand on your hip.
He softly moaned, making you grin. His lips were kiss-swollen as he panted when you finally pulled away. Your kisses trailed along his jaw. Asahi whimpered while tilting his head back. Humming with approval into his skin, you then licked the corner of his jaw.
You whispered in his ear after nipping his earlobe.
"It's a good thing you didn't put the clean sheets on." Alluding to the mess you were about to make, Asahi whined and tried to close his legs. However, you were still standing in the way, forcing them to remain spread.
Kissing down the side of his neck, you then let your tongue curl over his throat as it vibrated from his voice. You glanced down to see his cock fully hard and exposed from how short the skirt was. Your mouth watered at the sight as you listened to his quickened breaths.
Letting go of his other hand, you pulled your shirt off and tossed it to the side. The rest of your clothes followed before you grabbed the back of Asahi's thighs and climbed onto the bed. He fell back with a surprised yelp as you held his legs around your hips.
"I've barely touched you, Asahi. I think you like this, too, don't you?" You ran your hands up his outer thighs while looking down at his erection. Asahi softly whined while covering his face with his arms. He was embarrassed and shy, but his body still gave away how much he enjoyed your touch and attention. "C'mon, tell me."
Ghosting your fingertips over his thighs, you saw him shiver. He hesitantly nodded.
"Use your words, Asahi."
"Y-Yes."
"Good boy." Your fingers trailed to his inner thighs and made him twitch. You traced the line between his skin and his socks, watching his muscles flex as he squirmed. Teasing Asahi this way was always fun with how he would whimper and shiver.
You finally touched his cock, running your fingertips up his length as his breath shook. Your finger brushed over his slit and you heard a hiss from Asahi sucking in a breath through his teeth as his body tensed.
"Maybe we should get you some panties to go with this skirt." You mused while slowly stroking Asahi's length. "I think some pretty lace hugging just right would look really nice." Cupping his balls and gently squeezing, you made him jolt with a moan. "Yeah? You agree?" Imagining the lace on him with his skin peeking through the thin fabric that would struggle to contain his cock made your skin buzz with excitement.
Opening your mouth, you drooled on him to use your saliva as lube while stroking his dick. Asahi's thick thighs squeezed around your hips, and when you looked up, you saw him biting his lower lip. You also saw that he'd moved his arms enough to peek and watch you touch him.
His deep red cheeks and burning ears were so cute. The desire in his eyes encouraged you to stroke just a little bit faster until he moaned. Your other hand squeezed his thigh as his hips bucked. Asahi couldn't stop himself from rocking his hips up to fuck into your hand, chasing the pleasure when you teasingly moved your hand higher with shallow strokes.
Your grip tightened around the head, making him moan as his back arched.
"If you want more, you'll need to tell me. I can do this all day, sweetheart."
"Please." Asahi said it so quietly you almost didn't hear him before he whimpered again. "Please." His face turned to the side as he clutched the front of his sweater.
"Please, what? Tell me what you want." You cooed before running your thumb over his slit and smearing the precum beading there. He moaned, squeezing you between his thighs again.
"Please ride me. Please, please, please!" He shivered as your hand kept pumping.
"Good boy. Now look at me." You heard him whine and saw his jaw clench. Throwing your legs over his hips, you straddled his lap. "Look at me." You ordered. Asahi hesitated before forcing his head to turn to look at you. "That's it." You smiled and lined his cock up with your pussy. Your leaking arousal eased the way as you sank down to the hilt.
As you sat there getting used to the stretch, Asahi's head fell back with a moan while his hands were clutching your hips with a strong grip. You couldn't move even if you wanted to with how he had you pinned against him. You couldn't stop yourself from smiling as you watched Asahi clench his jaw and groan, his chest rising and falling with each breath.
"You think you're so sly, don't you? You can't fool me, love. I know you put on this pretty little skirt just to drive me wild." Your hands slid up his torso to rest on his broad chest, his soft sweater bunching beneath your palms and warm from his body heat. You could feel his heart pounding as you waited for him to relax his grip.
Asahi's cock twitched and he whimpered at the back of his throat.
"That's it, sweetheart." You cooed when he finally loosened his grip enough for you to move. Raising your hips, you sank back down while leaning some of your weight on your hands to pin Asahi to the bed. He wasn't truly pinned, he was much stronger and could easily get up whenever he wanted, but the weight of you on top of him and clenching around his cock had him stuck in place.
He moaned and whined as you rode him, eyes screwed shut as his brows furrowed. His hair was in a bun but was getting mussed up each time his head was thrown back with each cry of pleasure. You leaned over to kiss just beneath his jaw and along his bared throat.
"Please! More."
"Oh? You want more kisses?" Your lips brushed against his neck as you spoke. He nodded, making you smile and litter his neck with kisses. Asahi jolted with a yelp when you nipped him, but how his cock throbbed and he drove himself deeper into you showed how much he liked it. "Feels good?"
"Yes!"
"You're keeping the skirt, aren't you? It looks really good on you." Sitting back up, you watched Asahi's face twist as he moaned. "Don't you wanna see me peeking out from under it with your cute little kitties on either side of my head?" You reached back to snap the elastic band of one of his thigh highs and momentarily stretched out the cat's face even more.
Asahi jolted with a sound that was a cross between a sharp gasp and a moan when the sock snapped back into place and left his skin turning red. You grinned, seeing him biting his bottom lip as his long fingers were digging into your hips. Placing your hand back onto his chest, you picked up the pace, groaning while feeling his cock deep within.
You didn't care if Asahi got overstimulated, you were already planning on going down on him once you had an orgasm. You wanted his strong legs locked around your head as those adorable cartoon cats watched him fall apart. You could also leave bites and hickeys on the exposed patches of skin just above the thigh highs without him getting too embarrassed; it was just high enough that his volleyball shorts could cover it up during practice.
Not that you cared if anyone saw, but Asahi nearly exploded with embarrassment the last time his team spotted a hickey on his neck.
But you two would know about them even if no one else saw them. And that alone was enough to excite you more at the prospect of marking up his pretty thighs.
"Fuck, Asahi!" You panted as his grip was near bruising.
"Please! Please!" He whined while pulling you closer. His wide hands slid up your back to cling to you and bury his face in your neck and shoulder. Asahi's heavy breaths warmed your skin as you listened to him moan. His whiny pleas went lower, his voice dropping as he grunted and held you tighter. "Please."
You moaned into his ear and rested your cheek against his head. Being as close to him as possible made it harder to ride him, but he helped by planting his feet on the edge of the bed to thrust up his hips. One of Asahi's hands slid into your hair, cradling the back of your skull as you panted praises and encouragement.
"That's my good boy~." Your purring voice made him groan with your breath tickling his ear. "So sweet to me." You moaned when he bucked and whimpered, sounding so desperate while pistoning his cock in and out of your wet heat. You reached down with one hand to rub your clit, making yourself clench and moan.
With Asahi balls deep and your fingers working in unison, you felt the cusp of your orgasm, knowing just a few more strokes would drive you over the edge. Asahi cried out when you pulled his hair. He couldn't take anymore and went as deep as he could to feel you clench around his cock as he filled you with his cum. Each spurt had him throbbing and his entire body shivering as he hugged you to his chest.
Your own orgasm made you pull on his hair harder, forcing out another whine from Asahi. It just felt so damn good as tears pricked at his eyes and overstimulation made his stomach flinch. Even so, he didn't want to stop feeling you all around him with your fingers in his hair and your lips brushing his temple.
You both gave a shaky breath as the last lingering waves of an orgasm had your skin buzzing. The mess of bodily fluids was dripping onto the bed, but neither of you cared.
Humming softly, you wrapped your arms around Asahi gently, hugging him while resting your weight against his body. One of his thumbs began to gently rub your shoulder blade to let you know that he was still okay but didn't want to let you go.
"I...I think I want to get more skirts." Asahi whispered and you chuckled while twirling his soft hair around your finger.
"Oh, you naughty boy. You know I won't be able to keep my hands to myself." You kissed his cheek as he laughed. His cheeks and ears were still red and his smile was so sweet.
18+ ⸝⸝⸝ 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 & nerd!reader making out for the first time (spoiler: he’s a goner) <3
part 1 below | next | part 3 | part 4 | part 5
the air is thick with it—wet, greedy kisses that sound like he’s trying to overwhelm you, even as his mouth keeps brushing yours like he’s afraid to let go.
sukuna kisses you while you’re on his lap like a starved man, lips moving with a kind of urgency that blurs the line between respect and pure want.
one hand stays firm at the back of your neck, his palm hot against you your skin. the other swallows your face, cupping your cheek with a gentleness that almost feels wrong on him. though his grip tightens as if he can’t help it—holding you there, trapping you in him.
you’ve kissed him before, sure—shy, hesitant things that barely brushed the surface since the time you’ve began dating.
he was your first boyfriend. your first kiss.
but you’d never done anything like this before.
sukuna won’t ever admit it, but you were too damn cute today—your oversized sweater, glossy lips, baggy jeans, and glasses slipping down your nose. of course he couldn’t hold back any longer.
his tongue slides against yours and you whine into his mouth, finally melting above him. your fingers twist in his shirt, he lets out a low sound against your mouth—something between a groan and a laugh.
your glasses press crookedly against his face, the cool frame digging into his cheek as he kisses you harder. he doesn’t even care. if anything, it only spurs him on. he growls a quiet curse against your lips, chasing you when you try to pull back to fix them. his hand shifts from your neck to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as if to say don’t you dare.
you try to mumble something—maybe an apology—but it’s swallowed by the next kiss.
he tastes like heat, a gatorade, and something dizzying (though that’s probably just a side effect of his lips on yours).
the way his breath shudders when you instinctively lean further into him makes your stomach flip.
it’s messy. it’s clumsy. and it’s so him.
it’s almost funny, how this even started. the two of you had always been a little mismatched—him, loud and infuriating; you, the quiet one in the front of every lecture with the best grades.
he’d tease you endlessly just to see that your flustered reaction, calling you nerd like it was your name.
when sukuna came crashing into your life, he was loud and unapologetic—the kind of guy who ruled every room without trying. but you? you were the quiet, awkward, stuck behind your laptop type. you were someone he shouldn’t have noticed, let alone liked.
but he did. somehow.
he’d lean against your table in the library during study sessions just to get under your skin, tossing out comments that made your face heat up. “you’re really gonna skip dinner to study for a test?” or, “how are you still cute with those eye bags, nerd?”
but every time, you couldn’t help but wonder what a guy like him was doing in a library and talking to a girl like you.
the teasing was constant, but something else hid underneath it—something that made your chest tighten whenever he looked at you a second too long.
it was in moments where your eyes accidentally met his across campus and you immediately glanced away, convinced he hadn’t really been looking at you. or when you caught his gaze while he was laughing with his friends and had to pretend you weren’t wondering why someone like him would notice you at all.
and now, with your glasses tilted and your lips swollen from his kisses, that same look flickers in his eyes. the one that says he doesn’t mean half the things he says because around you? sukuna’s never really been as sharp as he pretends to be.
he leans in again, and before you can think, the kiss deepens. slower this time, but heavier—like he’s sinking into it.
your fingers curl in the fabric of his shirt once more, and that’s all it takes for him to lose whatever restraint he had left. with a low sound that sends heat rushing to your face, he shifts his weight, guiding you back until your shoulders hit the mattress.
the world tilts. your breath stutters.
his hand braces beside your head, his body hovering just above yours. your dorm room feels too small now, every breath shared.
“relax,” he murmurs, voice rough, but his eyes are soft—softer than you’ve ever seen them. dilated until you can barely see the crimson color of his eyes.
when he kisses you again, it’s needier, like he’s afraid the moment will end too soon. your glasses slide a little down your nose again when you move to sit up on your elbows, and he laughs quietly against your mouth—a sound that makes your breath hitch—brushing them back up with his knuckles before kissing you once more, even harder this time.
your heartbeat is wild, matching the rhythm of his. you’re flustered and overwhelmed but you don’t want him to stop. not when he’s looking at you like that. not when every kiss feels like a secret he’s been holding in for far too long.
your breath catches when his lips leave yours for only a moment—just long enough for him to look at you like he’s still trying to understand how he ended up here, above you, wanting you this much. his thumb skims your cheekbone, slow and distracted, like his body is moving ahead of his thoughts.
“y’know,” he mutters, voice low and almost irritated, “you drive me insane.”
you barely have time to process it before his mouth is on yours for the nth time—now nothing like the seemingly controlled kisses from before.
it’s like he’s losing patience with himself and with you. with the space between your bodies that he keeps trying to erase.
when he pulls back, it’s not far. just enough for his forehead to rest against yours, breaths tangling.
“you don’t even get it, do you?” he murmurs, words barely shaped.
you manage an breathy exhale, answer confused, “g-get what?”
he doesn’t answer.
instead, his gaze drags over your face like he’s memorizing something he refuses to say out loud.
and then without warning his mouth drops to your throat.
the shift is instant. rougher. desperate.
his hand curls at your hip, dragging you closer as his lips find the warm skin beneath your jaw, kissing, then biting. soft, then not soft at all. your breath hitches, fingers gripping his shoulders, and he makes a low noise against your neck like that reaction alone is all the explanation he’s willing to give.
he doesn’t stop there.
his mouth trails lower. it’s almost like he’s trying to chase every shiver he pulls from you. his nose skims your throat, breath hot against your skin.
his grip on your hip tightens, not enough to hurt—just enough to tell you he’s losing whatever control he walked in with.
you gasp when he pulls you fully against him, the closeness stealing your breath even further. that little noise goes straight to his head. his hand slides from your hip to the small of your back, pressing your chest against his, keeping you there like he doesn’t want to let go.
“stay still,” he breathes against your neck. except you can hear it in his voice, the way it cracks a little—he’s the one who can’t stay still.
his lips find a spot just beneath your ear, and when you shudder, he laughs. this time quiet and breathless, not mocking at all. like he can’t believe what you do to him.
he mouths at your pulse again, deeper, lingering like he’s trying to mark the moment into memory.
your fingers slide up into his hair without thinking, and the second you tug—just barely—his breath catches hard against your skin.
the sound that leaves him is almost pained.
he kisses down your neck again like he needs you closer than your body will physically allow.
and then, he’s grinding his hips against yours and that’s when you feel it.
a whimper escapes you and then you realize he doesn’t even know it. the movement was instinctive. heat blooms in your chest and low in your stomach, sudden and sharp, and he just hums against your skin, lost in the closeness between you.
“kuna—” it comes out as a whine as you push him back, eyes wide.
he grunts, reaching instinctively to pull you back in, “what?”
then his eyes catch where you’re looking and a flash of awareness hits him. a faint red color blooms upon his cheeks as he realizes exactly what it is.
he’s hard.
fuck.
ryomen sukuna was not a man who got hard just from just kissing.
sukuna hides himself at the crook of your neck, “just—just stop— don’t look! i-ignore it.”
did he just stutter?
>> next ch / series masterlist
this is my first sukuna fic (that i'm posting at least) and the first thing i've written since disappearing off the face of tumblr!!! i hope i wrote him well enough because this has been in my drafts for months😓
the locker room’s mostly empty, showers still running in the distance, but kageyama doesn’t care. he’s on you the second you step inside, all sweat-slick skin and trembling hands.
“can’t—fuck, i can’t wait anymore,” he pants, pressing you against the lockers hard enough they rattle. his eyes are wide, frantic, pupils blown.
“tobio—someone could walk in,” you whisper, even as your arms wind around his damp shoulders.
“don’t care,” he groans, grinding against you, cock already straining against his shorts. “need you right now. please.”
his desperation makes your stomach flip. you tug his head down, kissing him hard, letting him swallow your moan when his fingers shove clumsily past your waistband.
“shit—so wet already,” he mutters, breath hot against your lips, pumping two fingers into you fast, sloppy, like he’s racing against time.
you gasp, clutching at his shoulders. “you’re the one dripping sweat all over me. you’re a mess, tobio.”
he groans at your words, forehead pressing to yours. “yeah, messy for you. fuck, i can’t stop shaking.”
his other hand fumbles his shorts down, cock slapping against your thigh, flushed and leaking. he lines up without warning, pushing inside in one rough thrust that has you gasping loud enough to echo.
“t-too much—fuck,” you whimper, nails digging into his back.
“sorry—i’ll slow—” he lies, because his hips are already snapping forward, hard, shallow thrusts that send your body jolting against the lockers. “you’re so tight, i can’t—ahh, feels too good.”
each slap of his hips is wet, filthy, your arousal already smeared down your thighs. he buries his face in your neck, moaning loud, unrestrained.
“tobio, someone’s gonna hear us,” you gasp, though your legs hook tighter around his waist.
“let them,” he groans, fucking into you faster. “i want them to know you’re mine.”
you bite down on his ear, making him shudder. “you’re desperate. what if the team sees you like this? all needy and pathetic just to cum inside me?”
he whines—actually whines—hips stuttering. “don’t say that—fuck, i’ll lose it. please, let me—lemme cum in you.”
he’s relentless, sweat dripping from his temple onto your chest, your back slamming against the lockers with every thrust. when his fingers find your clit, rubbing messy circles, you cry out, shaking.
“tobio, i’m—fuck, i’m close—”
“cum for me. please, please cum with me. i need it—need to feel you squeeze me,” he babbles, voice breaking.
your orgasm rips through you, clenching tight around him, and he loses it, hips jerking erratically.
“oh fuck—i’m cumming—inside, inside, can’t hold it—” he moans, spilling deep, cock twitching hard as hot spurts fill you. he doesn’t stop, though, still thrusting shallowly, like he’s trying to fuck it deeper.
you whimper, overstimulated. “tobio—s’too much.”
he groans against your throat, still grinding into you, cum dripping down your thighs. “can’t stop—need to see it leaking out. wanna fuck you till it’s overflowing.”
“fuck, you’re insane,” you pant, shivering at every sloppy thrust.
he pulls out just far enough to watch his cum spill, groaning at the sight before pushing back in with a wet squelch. the sudden, deep thrust catches you completely by surprise, and a loud moan rips from your throat as he buries himself back inside you.
his cock twitches inside you, still hard, still leaking, and his hands grip your ass like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. without breaking rhythm, he lifts you, cock still buried deep, and carries you the few steps to the bench, hauling you into his lap as your legs straddle him.
“tobio—” you breathe, trying to steady yourself, “you came so much already.”
“not enough,” he growls, voice wrecked. he keeps you pressed flush against him, cock thick and pulsing inside you.
“tobio—” you breathe, trying to steady yourself, “you came so much already.”
“not enough,” he growls, voice wrecked. he keeps you pressed flush against him, cock thick and pulsing inside you.
“shit… you’re so deep,” you gasp, tilting your hips instinctively, “fuck, i can feel every inch of you inside me.”
every movement of his hips drives a shiver through you, his body so hot and heavy against yours that it’s impossible to think of anything else. the way he’s holding you, still thrusting deep and relentless, makes your knees weak, and the slick warmth coating both of you is impossible to ignore.
“ride me,” he pants, sweat dripping down his temple, hands clamped on your hips. “wanna see you bounce on me, wanna feel you milk me dry.”
“i… i’m not sure how much more i can take,” you murmur, breath hitching, but your body is already rocking forward, nails digging into his damp shoulders.
the angle shifts, deeper, and you moan loud, the sound echoing in the empty room. his eyes roll back, jaw slack as you grind down on him, your slick and his cum making every movement sloppy, obscene.
“fuck, that’s it—ahh, don’t stop,” he groans, meeting your bounces with desperate thrusts upward, the bench creaking under the force. “you feel so fucking good, i’m gonna cum again—”
you smirk through your moans, tightening around him. “already? you’re really pathetic, tobio.”
“say it again,” he begs, pupils blown wide as he stares up at you, lips parted. “say it—say i’m pathetic for you.”
“you are,” you gasp, riding him harder, the wet slap of your bodies loud in the locker room. “pathetic, desperate, only good when you’re filling me up.”
he moans brokenly, forehead knocking against your chest. “fuck—fuck, i’m gonna—”
his hands drag you down hard on his cock, grinding you into his lap as he spills again, cum spurting deep and hot, mixing with what’s already dripping out.
you choke on a moan, overstimulated as he keeps rutting, forcing you to ride out every twitch of his release. the mess seeps down your thighs, smearing over his shorts, pooling under you on the bench.
“look at us,” he pants, voice raw, staring at the slick running down between your legs. “fuck, it’s everywhere. you’re overflowing for me.”
your body trembles against him, chest heaving, and you manage a shaky laugh. “how the hell am i supposed to walk out of here like this?”
he kisses you, sloppy and needy, still rocking you lazily on his cock. “don’t care. everyone should see how much you take me.”
you pull back just enough to glance at him, smirk tugging at your lips. “look at you… all desperate and putty for me,” you tease, fingers running through his sweaty hair.
his eyes darken, pupils blown, and a low growl escapes him. “shut up… don’t make me lose it again,” he warns, though his hands tighten on your hips like he’s not going to let go.
you lean in slowly, pressing your forehead to his, softening the intensity. “i like it when you’re like this,” you murmur, voice gentle now.
he lets out a long breath, finally stilling his movements, and kisses you deeply—slow, lingering, almost tender after all the messy frenzy. you cling to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, feeling the warmth of his body settle against yours.
for a few heartbeats, it’s just the two of you, flushed and sticky and completely undone, and you can’t help but grin against his lips. “guess you’re mine, huh?”
“always,” he whispers back, voice low, desperate still, but softening just for you.
your roommate has been running her mouth to her now ex-boyfriend that you were a nerdy little virgin, and after they broke up you let kuroo find out if she's telling the truth.
starring. kuroo tetsuro x fem!reader
genre: fluff, romance, smut, timeskip!kuroo
wc: 9.7k
warning: 18+ mdni., smut. nsfw. unprotected sex. cunnilingus. some themes of exhibitionism (?). cheating. mentions foursome. detailed smut. tit play. oral (f and m!receiving). face sitting. creampie. p in v. pwp (?). kuroo and reader matches each others freaks.
You live in a two-bedroom apartment tucked away in a quieter ward of Tokyo—not too far from the city’s rhythm, but just enough to give you a breather. It's modern, clean, and honestly more space than you need. You could’ve gone solo. The rent was well within your budget, a little indulgent even, but something about sharing the space felt… right. Whether it was a leftover instinct from dorm life or just the quiet knowledge that silence in too many rooms can get heavy over time—you weren’t entirely sure.
Eventually, through a casual coffee catch-up with an old college colleague, you were introduced to someone else who happened to be in the same position: apartment hunting, strapped for time, and looking for something stable. The arrangement was convenient. She seemed easygoing enough, worked long hours like you did, and respected shared space. No red flags, no awkward tension. You didn’t overthink it.
And for a while, everything just... worked. You had your routines—brushing past each other in the kitchen during rushed mornings, the occasional shared takeout dinner in front of the TV, the soft hum of separate lives running parallel. You didn’t hang out much, but you coexisted comfortably. That was enough.
What you hadn’t expected, though, was the shift that happened a few months in. The subtle kind. The kind you wouldn’t notice at first—until a stranger’s shoes started appearing by the door on the weekends, or the low murmur of laughter drifted from her bedroom late at night.
You didn’t care.
She could do whatever she wanted, and it wasn’t your business. When she first told you she was seeing someone—some guy named Kuroo, apparently—you offered nothing more than a nod. They’d been together for a few months, she said. “He might start staying over more. Was that okay?” You told her it was. You didn’t mind. Not really.
Even the nights when the walls failed to hold their secrets didn’t bother you. You’d hear it, sometimes. Soft giggles turning breathy. The rhythmic creak of her bedframe against the wall. The occasional slip of a moan that crawled down the hallway. But it was always distant. Easy enough to ignore. You’d just turn up the volume on your music or pretend your pillow muted everything. It didn’t affect you.
You rarely crossed paths with him.
Work kept you out late, and on most nights, you slipped into the apartment quietly, careful not to wake anyone even when you knew they were still awake. Sometimes you’d see him in passing—a flash of dark hair as he leaned over the sink, his hoodie thrown carelessly over one shoulder. His voice would drift from the other room, low and teasing. But he never really looked at you. Never acknowledged you. And that was fine. You had no interest in making small talk with your roommate’s boyfriend.
He must have thought she lived alone.
And maybe she wanted it that way.
Still, there was something oddly satisfying about the way he lingered in the living room sometimes, eyes drifting over the shelves that lined the far wall. The ones filled with manga spines, collector’s editions, limited-release box sets. Hand-built Lego models positioned with the care of a gallery. You’d catch the subtle pause in his voice when he spoke near them, the shift in his tone from casual to curious.
“This stuff’s cool,” he said once, running a hand along the edge of a display. “Didn’t know you were into Legos.”
You hadn’t been close enough to see her face, but you could hear the disdain wrapped around her reply.
“God, no,” she laughed, that practiced little snort she used when she wanted to sound above something. “That’s my roommate’s. She’s like, a total nerd. Obsessed with comics and kids’ toys and whatever. I let her keep it out here. It’s, like, her thing.”
You stood just out of sight in the hallway, expression unreadable, your bag still slung over your shoulder.
You didn’t say a word. Just turned toward your room, the door clicking shut behind you as her laughter faded into silence.
Let her laugh. Let her act like it was something to be embarrassed about.
Because the way his voice had caught before she answered? You didn’t miss that.
It was subtle—the kind of pause most people wouldn’t think twice about. But you weren’t most people. You caught that split-second hitch in his voice. Like he was expecting someone else to respond. Like he had a different name on his tongue before hers came out. And once you noticed that—everything else started to unravel.
After that, your roommate’s colors started bleeding through her carefully layered persona. The kind of girl you swore you left behind in high school. Pretty, mean, passive-aggressive. The type who needed to feel above someone just to breathe easy.
She liked to act casual, like it was all girl talk. Like she wasn’t trying to sink her claws into your insecurities.
“Kuroo was so good last night,” she would say, eyes glinting as she leaned against the counter, always loud enough for you to hear. “I swear, he knows my body better than I do. He had me pinned—biting, moaning, choking. I couldn’t stop shaking.”
She’d glance at you as she said it. Smirking. Cruel.
“I mean... not that you'd know what that’s like,” she added with a fake laugh, stirring her tea like she hadn’t just thrown acid at your self-worth. “He doesn’t go for girls like you.”
You smiled. Calm. Unbothered.
“You’re right,” you said sweetly. “And I’m not interested. That’s fine.”
But inside? You were laughing.
Because she had no idea.
You’d lived that wild, messy, electric kind of life she only pretended to understand. Back in college, you’d had your fair share of boyfriends—and girlfriends. Pretty ones, sweet ones, dangerous ones. The kind who got on their knees just to worship your thighs. Who sucked on your tits like they’d die without the taste. You’d been kissed against dorm walls, fucked in music rooms, devoured in the backseat of a car while your heels dug into fogged-up windows. You’d had people beg to taste you—tongue-deep until your legs shook, until your moans echoed down quiet hallways.
You’d been wild. Reckless. Insatiable. You’d even tried a threesome with a married couple once—just to see if you could make them both fall apart. You did. Twice.
But then you graduated. Got a job. Realigned your priorities. You weren’t that girl anymore—not all the time.
You hung up the stilettos and the lipstick-stained wine glasses. You traded morning-after texts for early meetings. Nights spent tangled in sheets became nights at your desk, fingers flying across a keyboard instead of someone else’s skin.
You retired from the chaos and focused on your career.
But that girl—the one she thought you couldn’t possibly be?
She still lived within you, and she was just waiting to come out and play.
You’d almost forgotten her until that morning. The one where she sat at the kitchen island with bed hair and a proud smile, sipping her coffee like it was just another Tuesday. She didn’t just talk about her night with Kuroo—she dissected it, glorified it, sprinkled it over your morning like sugar in your tea. Not that you asked, but she offered every lurid detail anyway, like you were the best friend she never had and the enemy she always needed. He was so big. He made her gag. She choked a little—laughed as if the memory alone still lingered at the back of her throat.
You didn’t flinch. Not then.
But it didn’t stop. It became a pattern. Whenever Kuroo stayed the night—his shoes by the door, his laugh echoing in the kitchen—she’d find a way to mention it. How her throat was sore. How she could still feel him. How she couldn’t walk straight. All of it tossed out with that lazy grin and self-satisfied tone. At first you told yourself it was just her way—crude, bold, a little drunk on the attention. But something in her voice changed. Something smug. Pointed.
And then came the men who weren’t Kuroo.
You saw one first by accident. You’d woken early for work and padded down the hallway, half-asleep and still rubbing your eyes, only to nearly crash into him outside the bathroom. He was tall, wearing nothing but boxers and looking for a jacket. He blinked at you like you were the one in the wrong hallway. He muttered a soft “morning,” then disappeared into her room.
You didn’t say a word.
But the worst—no, the most unforgettable—happened one humid night when sleep just wouldn’t come. You'd tossed in bed until frustration took over, deciding a warm glass of milk might help settle you down. The hallway was dark, the tiles cool beneath your feet. But the second you turned the corner toward the kitchen, your breath caught.
Her bedroom door was wide open.
You froze.
The sounds were unmistakable—flesh on flesh, low groans, the wet thud of skin colliding with skin. Heavy breathing, slurred moans, and the distinct slap of motion too fast to be just hands. The room reeked of alcohol and sweat. And you saw it all—every obscene detail lit by the dim glow of her desk lamp.
One man was behind her, rhythm sharp and relentless, his hands gripping her waist as she braced herself on shaking arms. Another lay beneath her, her knees braced on either side of him while he thrusted up into her from below, mouth latched to her breasts, tongue circling one nipple then the other like he couldn’t decide which to devour first. And a third—God—the third stood in front of her, hips pumping as she sucked him down, her mouth stretched wide around him, spit slicking her chin and dripping to her collarbone.
You watched as her whole body trembled under the force of it—three men, three directions, all taking turns. Her throat constricted as she took him deeper. Her back arched as the one underneath groaned into her chest. The man behind her pulled her hips back, harder, rougher. She whimpered. Moaned. Her nails scraped the sheets. And when the one in front finally shuddered and came, you saw the spill of it leak past her lips, trailing white down her chin as she let out a breathless laugh—uncaring, uninhibited, completely lost in pleasure.
None of them noticed you.
Not even when you stepped back and nearly knocked over the dish rack in your daze.
You almost laughed.
So much for good sex.
So much for Kuroo not going for girls like you.
You didn’t sleep that night.
The next morning, she confronted you in the hallway, freshly showered and still damp, eyes smug with victory. “You saw, didn’t you?”
You didn’t deny it. Just nodded once, softly.
And she beamed—fucking beamed. “I can take three cocks at once,” she said proudly. “Feels good, you know? Having every hole filled at the same time. It’s like—ecstasy. And they even took turns, babe. I lost count of how many times they came. My holes have been filled thrice as much.”
You stared at her, mouth dry, heartbeat unsteady. Her words were half confession, half performance.
And then, as if it were an afterthought, she added, “I wanted you to see it.”
Your brows furrowed. “What?”
“I left the door open on purpose. Thought it might loosen you up. But I figured you wouldn’t join anyway. Those guys probably aren’t into your type.”
You didn’t rise to it. Not yet. “How about Kuroo?”
That made her pause for a second. Just a flicker.
She shrugged. “The dick’s good. But he’s getting clingy. Talking about labels and exclusivity and all that serious shit. I don’t like that.”
Your stomach sank. “You told me it was serious.”
“It wasn’t. Until he thought it was.”
And just like that, she turned away, humming to herself as she made her coffee like she hadn’t just shattered something in the room. Something delicate. Something quiet and private and stupidly hopeful that you didn’t even realize you’d been holding on to.
You never judged her. God knows college has been a blur for you too. You’d partied, drank too much, made your own share of mistakes. But still—something about seeing her like that, twisted and shaking and laughing with a mouthful of someone else, had done something to you.
Maybe it was the betrayal. Maybe it was the performance. Maybe it was that deep, unspoken part of you that had started to care about Kuroo even if you didn’t want to admit it.
But what you never forgot—what stayed carved in your mind, looping over and over like a cruel joke—was the smirk she wore as she wiped cum off her chin and looked toward the door.
She knew.
And you’d never seen her look more pleased.
It was one of those rare, treasured off days—the kind where time stretched and slowed, unbothered by alarms or obligations. You padded out of your room with a fresh mug of coffee and a sealed box in hand: the latest Lego Architecture set you’d been dying to build. The living room was quiet, lit by soft daylight filtering through the sheer curtains, and for once, blissfully yours. Or so you thought.
You settled cross-legged on the rug, carefully opening the box and sorting the pieces into neat color-coded piles across the coffee table. The soft clink of plastic against plastic was meditative, your fingers already moving by muscle memory as you started on the foundation.
Then, the door creaked open.
You glanced up, expecting it to be your roommate stumbling in from a late-morning hangover—or another boy doing the walk of shame. But instead, it was him.
Kuroo Tetsuro.
Hair tousled in every direction, eyes half-lidded with sleep, and wearing nothing but a loose shirt and sweatpants slung far too low on his hips. He blinked at you like you were a hallucination.
“…Shit,” he muttered under his breath before stiffening like he’d been caught stealing.
You raised an eyebrow.
There was a beat of stunned silence before he scrubbed a hand down his face and cleared his throat. “You’re—wait, you're the roommate?” He pointed at you like he couldn’t quite believe it. “You’re her roommate?”
You looked back down at the half-built Lego set and calmly clicked a few pieces together. “Mmm. That’s what it says on the lease.”
Kuroo stared at you, then at the Lego box, then back at you. “Is that—oh my god, is that the Fallingwater set?” His voice pitched up slightly, boyish excitement suddenly blooming on his face.
You blinked, slightly surprised at the sudden shift. “Yeah. Limited edition, too.”
His eyes lit up in a way you hadn’t expected from someone who, until now, had only existed in your mind as a tangled mess of sex sounds and sneaky exits.
“I’ve wanted to build that one for months,” he said, stepping closer without even realizing it. “Frank Lloyd Wright is—God. His work is insane. That cantilever design? Pure genius.”
You stared at him for a second, momentarily caught off guard. “You’re into architecture?”
“I’m into Legos,” he corrected with a grin, dropping down to sit a few feet away from you on the floor. “Architecture’s just the gateway drug.”
The way he said it was so earnest, so casually nerdy, that you couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. He didn’t seem to notice he was still inching closer, eyes darting across your sorting piles with the practiced gaze of someone who had done this a hundred times before. His fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for a piece, to help build.
“You’re not usually home,” he added after a second. “She always says you’re working.”
“I usually am,” you replied, not bothering to hide the slight edge in your tone. “Today’s the exception.”
Kuroo paused, then gave you a sheepish look. “Well, I feel kind of dumb. I’ve been talking to your Lego collection like it was hers.”
You glanced at him, amusement tugging at your lips. “So you do talk to the Lego sets.”
“Only the ones that deserve respect,” he shot back easily, gesturing toward your build. “That one? Deserves a round of applause.”
There was a pause—just long enough to realize how quiet the apartment was with only the two of you in it. Just long enough for the tension to crackle faintly in the air, unfamiliar but not unwelcome.
For the first time, you were seeing him as something more than your roommate’s cocky lay. He was still smug. Still smug and way too attractive for his own good—but there was a softness there too, the kind that clung to people who used their brains for more than ego. A surprising amount of dork nestled beneath the devil-may-care smirk. You didn’t know what to do with that just yet.
Still, you couldn’t resist the tease.
“You can help sort, if you wash your hands,” you said, tilting your head.
Kuroo gave you a mock gasp. “You think I’d touch a limited edition set with dirty hands? I’m offended.”
You laughed under your breath as he stood up and headed to the sink, and as the sound of running water filled the space, you glanced back down at the instructions in front of you.
It seemed like, for once, today might actually be interesting.
And maybe—just maybe—so was he.
Eventually, you and Kuroo became close, as he sometimes helped you with your builds if you were free and he happened to be in the apartment.
It was just an innocent hangout since you two shared an interest—nerding out over collectors' sets, comparing mini-figures, debating Marvel versus DC, and even spending quiet evenings building modular LEGO cities in comfortable silence. It was never anything more than shared company, quiet companionship, and a love for plastic bricks and fantasy worlds.
But apparently, that probably hit a nerve with your roommate.
Because a few days later, you came home from work and stepped into the middle of a storm brewing in the living room.
“You always hang out with her now,” your roommate spat, her arms folded tightly across her chest. “Why?”
You froze, one foot just inside the doorway, the other still outside. You blinked at the tension in the air—at the way Kuroo stood across from her, jaw tight, like he hadn’t expected this either.
“She’s cool,” Kuroo said simply, voice calm but edged in confusion. “We like the same stuff. That’s all it is.”
“That’s all it is,” your roommate echoed mockingly, rolling her eyes. “So what, you're into nerds now? You think you're gonna build a little LEGO love story with her?”
Kuroo frowned. “It’s not like that.”
She scoffed, arms flying up in the air. “Bullshit. You’re getting soft. And since we’re airing things out—guess what, Kuroo? I’ve been fucking other people the entire time. Not just one or two.”
You watched from the hallway as she stepped closer, lips curling into a smirk. Like this wasn’t a confession—it was a flex.
“Three guys,” she said, slowly, as if daring him to react. “At the same time. And I liked it.”
She said it proudly. Like there was no shame, no remorse, no thought to how it might hit him.
And it did hit him.
You saw it in the subtle shift of his stance, the way his shoulders pulled back and his jaw clenched. He didn’t yell. He didn’t crumble. But you saw the exact moment it clicked—that he wasn’t just some convenient hookup to her, but completely disposable.
“You’re serious?” he asked, slowly.
She shrugged, unapologetic. “Dead serious. And I don’t get why you’re acting like we were exclusive. I never promised you anything.”
He inhaled sharply through his nose, glancing away like he was trying to keep his temper level. “I just thought we respected each other. I thought you gave a shit. And I thought you and your roommate were friends. That’s why I even talked to her in the first place.”
The room fell uncomfortably silent after that. You felt a sting deep in your chest—for him.
You knew Kuroo wasn’t the type to get attached easily. But he had cared. He wouldn’t have lingered around your coffee table for hours helping you alphabetize your manga, or asked you what your dream Star Wars set was, if he was just killing time between fucks.
And now, he looked like he’d just had the wind knocked out of him.
You didn’t want him to see your face, the way your brows pulled together or how your heart ached with sympathy for him. So, quietly, you backed away from the hallway and slipped into your bedroom, shutting the door behind you before the fight could escalate further.
You didn’t want to hear any more of it—not the insults, not the ego, not the unraveling of something he’d believed was real.
All you could do was sit on your bed, palms pressed to your thighs, and let yourself hurt in silence—for the boy who never deserved to be treated like a backup plan.
After that argument, you never saw much of Kuroo again. You hadn’t asked for his number or any of his socials, and he never asked for yours either. Maybe it was intentional—maybe it wasn’t—but either way, you chalked it up to a chapter that closed before it could fully begin. It was easier that way, wasn’t it? Your roommate moved on fast. So fast that the same night you’d heard her moaning another boy’s name through the thin apartment walls while you buried yourself under a pillow and turned the volume of your anime up louder than usual. You weren’t sure if it was pity or residual anger that lingered in your chest, but either way, you avoided bringing it up.
A few months passed. Your job had picked up pace, and while your calendar was often cluttered with deadlines, you managed to put away enough money to indulge yourself a little. Which is why you didn’t even flinch at the entrance fee for the local comic and toy convention—hell, you even treated yourself to priority access, determined to beat the crowd before anyone could swipe that rare LEGO Star Wars Ultimate Collector Series set you’d been eyeing online for weeks. You weren’t sure if it would even be there, but the hope was enough. And if not, there were always manga volumes to haul home, limited prints, and maybe another blind box you didn’t need but would justify with weak logic about resale value.
The place was buzzing with life. Cosplayers brushed past you in elaborate wigs and armor; booths were stacked high with colorful displays; the air smelled like plastic wrap, buttered popcorn, and overpriced takoyaki. Your bag was already a little heavier than it should’ve been—three volumes of a manga you hadn’t even started and two keychains you didn’t need clinked together at your side—but your heart was light. It was a good day. You were in your element. You were happy to be spending money that you earned doing something you didn’t hate. That in itself felt like a win.
You were crouched in front of a display, squinting to read the fine print on the LEGO box tucked in the farthest shelf corner—your prize almost within reach—when a familiar voice slid in from behind you, smooth as ever, but touched with disbelief.
You turned. And just like that, the convention disappeared for a second.
Kuroo stood a few feet away, noticeably overdressed for the venue. His dark button-up was tucked neatly into charcoal slacks, the lanyard from the Japan Volleyball Association still clipped to his belt, a blazer slung casually over one arm. His hair was a little more tamed than the last time you saw him, like he’d just stepped out of a boardroom instead of a crowd full of anime fans and collectors. And yet, his expression—wide-eyed and visibly caught off-guard—was anything but polished.
“…Tetsu?”
He grinned then, that same crooked smile that used to flash your way over unfinished LEGO builds in your living room, the kind that warmed something unguarded in your chest.
“I thought that was you. I’d recognize that laser-focus over a brick set anywhere,” he teased, stepping closer. “You stalking LEGO aisles now?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” you said, glancing pointedly at his outfit. “Did you just come from a funeral or are you here to do tax audits on people’s purchases?”
He laughed, the sound genuine. “Meeting at the JVA ran long. I was supposed to head straight home after, but I saw the convention signs on my way out and figured I’d pop in. Nostalgia, you know? Didn’t think I’d run into anyone I knew… especially not you.”
Your smile faltered only slightly, the past nudging its way in. “Yeah… I didn’t think I’d see you again either.”
For a second, neither of you said anything. The noise of the convention carried on—someone shouted about free pins at booth twelve, another person squealed over a celebrity sighting—but in that moment, it was just the two of you, standing shoulder to shoulder in front of a LEGO display that felt like a full circle too ironic to ignore.
“I didn’t get to say sorry,” Kuroo said quietly, his voice softer now, lower. “Back then. I should’ve reached out. But I didn’t even know how.”
“It’s okay,” you said, and maybe you meant it. Maybe part of you still felt the sting of that goodbye-that-wasn’t, but seeing him again like this, in the middle of a day you thought would be just another solo outing, made the ache feel a little more bearable. “You don’t owe me anything.”
His eyes searched yours for a long moment, as if trying to read between the lines. And then, with a small smile, he gestured toward the shelf. “So… you finally get it? That LEGO set you’ve been after?”
“Almost. Some guy just bought one before me. I’ve been debating if I should just fight him for it or cry in the corner.”
Kuroo smirked, like it was 3AM again and you were bickering over missing pieces. “I’ll help you strategize. Worst-case scenario, we distract him with a full-blown scene in the Gundam section.”
You laughed, and just like that, the heaviness began to lift. Maybe the past didn’t need to be reopened in full detail. Maybe there was something worth picking up from here instead—on neutral ground, between plastic bricks and overpriced manga—and maybe this time, neither of you would let it slip so easily.
You eventually started spending more time at Kuroo’s apartment—not because it was necessarily more convenient, but because the idea of inviting him over to yours felt layered with complications you weren’t ready to unpack. Your roommate still lived there, and after everything that had transpired—the awkward tension, the quiet spite, the ghost of her moaning someone else’s name just hours after things ended with Kuroo—it didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel neutral. And you didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of thinking she had any space in whatever it was that you and Kuroo were slowly building now.
He never asked questions. Just unlocked the door, let you in, and cleared space on his coffee table for your snacks and whatever LEGO set he’d been tinkering with that week. It became your quiet ritual. He’d handle the bulk of the instruction booklet while you sorted pieces by color or shape, occasionally bickering about which build deserved priority. You laughed more often than you had in weeks. Kuroo, for all his smug quips and relentless teasing, had a calming presence when he was relaxed like this—lounging in sweats, hair pulled back haphazardly, glasses perched on his nose, and a cup of instant coffee steaming between you.
It was during one of these hangouts—somewhere between building a replica of the Millennium Falcon and reorganizing his manga shelf—that he really started noticing the little things about you.
You wore glasses at his place. Not the contact lenses or styled versions of yourself that the world got to see, but the comfort version—the one with oversized hoodies, your hair tied up, and those thick-rimmed frames slipping down the bridge of your nose every few minutes. You’d wrinkle your nose every time they slid too far, push them back up with a finger, then hunch further into the build like you were preparing for battle. It was absurdly endearing.
Kuroo found himself watching you more than he watched the pieces. The way your brow furrowed in focus, the way your voice softened when you talked about your favorite arcs, how your hands hovered when he got too reckless snapping bricks together.
And the more time he spent with you, the harder it was not to remember all the things your ex-roommate used to say about you.
He hadn’t thought much of it at the time. She’d speak in offhand remarks—half-laughed criticisms and quiet jabs that he hadn’t really questioned. Stuff like, “She’s sweet, but kind of childish, don’t you think?” or “Her room’s full of toys and junk, I don’t know how she lives like that.” It sounded harmless then. Maybe even normal, like the kind of light annoyance roommates always had about each other.
But now, sitting across from you while you earnestly explained the rarity of a certain manga edition you were planning to hunt down next weekend, he realized how misplaced those comments really were.
Your roommate hadn’t been annoyed. She had been dismissive. Cruel, in subtle ways that made him feel gross now that he understood the full picture. Because if this was you—brilliant, expressive, unapologetically passionate—you weren’t someone to mock. You were someone worth watching. Worth listening to. Worth knowing.
Kuroo was starting to think he’d like to know you even better.
And he did.
The more time you spent at his place, the more the line between casual hangouts and something softer, something more intentional, began to blur. It wasn’t sudden—nothing about it was rushed or dramatic—but rather a quiet shift, the kind that unfolds slowly when two people realize they enjoy each other’s company more than they probably should.
It started with the little things.
He began walking you home instead of just waving from the doorway. He'd pick up your favorite snacks without needing to ask. Once, he texted you in the middle of the workday just to share a photo of a new LEGO architecture set he spotted in a store near the JVA office—“Made me think of you,” he’d said.
Then came the first not-quite-date, when he asked if you wanted to grab ramen after a long build session. It wasn’t phrased romantically, but when he held the door open for you with a lopsided grin and a low, “Dinner’s on me,” it lingered like a promise.
After that, it became a quiet pattern—late-night meals, museum dates disguised as “research” for future builds, bookstore strolls where he let you drag him into the manga aisle even though he always ended up walking out with more volumes than you did.
One evening, he surprised you with a black box tied in yellow ribbon, smugly handing it over like he was presenting you with a Nobel prize.
You opened it to find a bouquet of LEGO flowers—intricate, colorful, and painstakingly detailed.
“I figured they wouldn’t die on you,” he said with a small shrug, but his ears flushed red, betraying just how much the gift actually meant.
You smiled so brightly it made his chest ache.
Later that night, you sat side by side on his floor, building each stem and petal piece by piece. Your fingers brushed occasionally, and each time it happened, he didn’t pull away. Neither did you.
And when you were finally finished, the vase of plastic blooms sat proudly by his kitchen window, catching the light like real blossoms might. It stayed there—quiet, permanent, and real in its own way. Just like the two of you were starting to become.
More sets of LEGO flowers bloomed forever in the corner of Kuroo's bookshelf, perched beside a manga box set he'd later surprise you with. Then another. Then a collector's figurine. A special-edition Blu-ray. It became a habit for him—dropping by a shop after work, carrying something that made him think of you. Something you’d gush over while adjusting your glasses or scrunching your nose in delight. Kuroo loved how animated your voice became when you explained the significance of a certain volume or lore from a world he only half-understood but always listened to anyway.
He loved the way your eyes sparkled when you carefully peeled away the plastic wrap, reverent in a way that almost made him jealous of the object in your hands.
“Tetsu, I told you to stop giving me gifts randomly.” you scolded him after he just handed you a new set of Lego figures.
Kuroo shrugs his shoulders and gives you a sheepish smile, “I like giving you gifts just because, okay?”
That went on and on—nights tangled in LEGO instructions and accidental laughs, meals shared over manga discussion, and growing routines that never needed to be spoken aloud. Eventually, he started asking you on actual dates. A quick dinner after helping him with his laundry. A detour to the park after a weekend spent sorting model kits. You never had to ask if it was a date—he made it clear every time he paid, every time he walked you home, every time his fingers lingered at the small of your back.
Then one night, he took you somewhere just a little fancier.
A cozy, tucked-away place with dim lighting and soft music humming underneath clinking silverware. You wore something nice—not over the top, but enough to make Kuroo smile the moment he saw you. He was dressed in a dark button-down shirt, sleeves casually rolled, a silver watch peeking from his wrist. Formal enough to make your heart thump a little harder when he pulled out your chair for you.
You talked—about work, a new LEGO release, some anime remake coming out soon, and halfway through dessert, it slipped out.
“So…what are we?” he asked, fingers absently running along the rim of his wine glass.
You paused, lips parting—but he beat you to it.
“I mean, I already know what I want us to be,” he added, voice quieter, more certain. “I’d just like to know if you feel the same.”
Your heart skipped. You didn’t answer with words—not right away. Instead, your hand slid over his on the table, your thumb brushing his wrist like it had always belonged there. Kuroo’s smile widened, soft and crooked.
That night, after he drove you home, it was meant to end the same way it usually did—warm, unspoken affection lingering in the air, a kiss on the cheek, a casual “see you soon” exchanged in the quiet of the night. Kuroo leaned in like always, one hand still gripping the steering wheel out of habit, his lips brushing against your cheek.
But this time, you didn’t let it end there.
"Stay," you said—softly but with no room for refusal—as your hand curled around the lapel of his coat and tugged him through the door. The click of the lock behind you echoed in the quiet, both of you breathing just a little heavier now.
His brow lifted, slightly amused, but when you reached for him—when you pressed your lips to his without hesitation—Kuroo dropped all pretense. He kissed you back just as fiercely, meeting the pull of your mouth with a hunger that had simmered under the surface for far too long.
You wrapped your arms around his neck as if anchoring yourself there, while his large hands settled on your waist, grounding you. The soft press of your bodies swaying closer felt like gravity had chosen this moment to pull tighter.
His mouth moved down—along the curve of your jaw, then lower to the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. When his lips found your neck, hot and deliberate, you tilted your head back and let out a breathy moan that made something flicker in his chest and spark in his eyes.
"God, you have no idea what you do to me," he murmured into your skin, voice low and gravel-thick with restraint. His hands were already wandering—sweeping over the curve of your waist, tracing the line of your ribs, bunching the fabric of your top like he couldn't decide whether to peel it off slowly or just tear through it and devour you whole.
Then, in one fluid motion, he hooked his arms under your thighs and lifted you effortlessly. You gasped, instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist, clinging to him as he carried you through the apartment like he already knew every step of the way. He nudged open the door to your bedroom with his foot and kicked it closed behind him with a soft thud.
“Are you sure about this, darling?” he asked, lips ghosting over your throat, warm breath teasing your skin. His voice was careful, velvet-wrapped concern undercut by the tension thrumming just beneath it.
“Yes,” you whispered without a second thought—breathy, aching, already burning. “Kuroo, yes.”
That was all he needed.
He set you down on the edge of the bed, fingers already working the hem of your top. He tugged it over your head, eyes darkening as more of your skin was revealed to him. “Fuck,” he breathed out, like seeing you undone just for him knocked the wind from his lungs. “You’re unreal.”
You helped him out of his shirt next, palms gliding across his toned chest as if you needed to commit every line, every scar, every warm plane of skin to memory. His pants were next, discarded somewhere along with yours, clothes tossed carelessly onto the floor as your mouths met again in a kiss that was less polite now—more heat than hesitation, more teeth, more tongue, more everything.
When he finally laid you down on the mattress and hovered above you, bare and wanting, the look in his eyes wasn't just lust. It was reverence.
“You're so fucking beautiful,” he said, almost like he was scolding himself for taking this long. “You’ve got no idea how long I’ve been thinking about this—about you.”
And then he kissed you again, slower this time, as his hand drifted between your legs—testing the waters, coaxing more of those breathy moans he was already addicted to.
“Gonna take my time with you,” he growled, “because after tonight, I’m not going anywhere.”
His voice was thick—low and rough with promise—as his mouth descended onto your chest. Kuroo's lips wrapped around your nipple, tongue swirling slow, lazy circles before he sucked hard enough to make your back arch. His free hand slid between your thighs, fingers parting your folds before his thumb found your clit with practiced ease, rubbing gentle, teasing circles that made your hips twitch.
“Tetsu,” you whimpered, threading your fingers through his dark, unruly hair, tugging just enough to draw a low moan from him.
Kuroo glanced up, eyes half-lidded but gleaming. “That’s it,” he murmured, voice vibrating against your skin. “Keep saying my name like that.”
You gasped as his fingers pressed in deeper, sliding along your slick heat, fingertips curling just right—just enough to make your thighs tremble and your breath catch.
He sucked on your other breast, taking his time, leaving red blooms along your skin like a trail he’d follow again later. The slow, wet sounds of his mouth on your tits mixed with the obscene slick of his fingers fucking you open, setting your nerves alight.
“Tetsu—fuck, I can’t—” you choked out, hips stuttering beneath his touch.
“Yes, you can,” Kuroo whispered, lips ghosting over your nipple before he kissed the swell of your breast. “You’re doing so good for me.”
He pulled back just slightly, lifting his head to watch you unravel for him—your body flushed, eyes glassy, chest heaving with every broken breath.
“Taste yourself, baby,” he said, bringing his glistening fingers up to your lips. You parted them instantly, moaning as he pushed them past your tongue. His groan was almost feral. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”
When he kissed you again, it was rougher—needier. He cradled your head in his hand, the other already stroking his cock as he lined himself up at your entrance.
“Tell me you want this,” he said, pressing his forehead to yours, voice trembling with restraint. “Tell me you want me.”
“I want you, Tetsu,” you breathed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “All of you. I’m yours.”
Kuroo didn’t hesitate. With a low groan, he pushed inside—slow and deep, stretching you open inch by inch until he bottomed out.
“Fuck,” he cursed, jaw clenching. “You feel… fuck, you feel like heaven.”
And when he started to move—thrusting slow, deliberate, grinding deep—you knew you’d never want anyone else. Not when Kuroo made you feel like this.
Each stroke was intentional, like he was mapping your body with every inch of his. One hand anchored beneath your thigh, fingers pressing into the soft underside, while the other stayed between your bodies, lazily circling your clit in time with the slow grind of his hips. The sounds he drew from you were loud, raw, almost embarrassing if they weren’t so fucking honest. You didn’t care. Not when Kuroo was whispering filth in your ear, kissing along your neck like he was claiming you with every mark.
“You feel that?” he murmured, lips brushing your skin. “That’s me. That’s all me, baby.”
When your back arched and your nails raked down his spine, Kuroo groaned—low and guttural, like the sight of you unraveling under him was too much to handle.
To say the least, Kuroo was obsessed with you in bed. He didn't expect someone so quiet, so soft-spoken and unbothered with drama, to be this wild and insatiable behind closed doors. Sometimes his stamina was off the charts—athlete-built and fueled by ego—but even he could admit: fuck, he couldn’t always keep up with you.
It drove him crazy in the best way.
You were demanding in all the right places. Greedy with your kisses, shameless when you rode him like you needed him deeper than physically possible, and vocal when you came, screaming his name like a prayer and a curse. Every time he thought he had you figured out, you flipped the script.
Kuroo used to think he was the one with the upper hand. He wasn't.
Your roommate—back when she and Kuroo were still trying whatever you’d call that—once mentioned you in passing. They were cuddling on your couch, legs tangled up in each other, when she scoffed and said, “She’s probably a virgin. You’ve seen her room, right? It’s full of Legos and manga. All that nerd shit? She’s definitely never been touched.”
He hadn’t thought much of it at the time, just hummed and nodded, though something about the certainty in her tone stuck with him.
Months later, when things with your roommate fizzled and Kuroo found himself in your bed, tangled in your sheets and catching his breath after your second round, he brought it up.
“She said you were probably a virgin,” he told you, laughing, head resting on your stomach.
You had chuckled, brushing your fingers through his messy hair.
“Yeah?” you replied, eyes gleaming. “Tell that to the guys I had in college. I practically broke one of them.”
You weren’t lying.
You proved it to him that same night. Straddling his face with that lazy smile and those goddamn glasses sliding down your nose. You rode him like you’d been waiting to prove a point and holy hell, Kuroo swore he saw the light. You had him pinned, hips grinding, thighs squeezing around his head like a vice, and he welcomed it. Happily. Drowning in your slick, drunk on your moans, Kuroo didn’t even care if he suffocated in your thighs that night.
He’d die a happy man.
You were so hot like that—uninhibited, filthy, hungry for him. And god, you looked so damn good when you sucked him off still wearing your glasses. Hair all messy from his fingers, mouth slick and eyes daring him to look away. He couldn’t. Not when your tongue ran along his shaft like you were savoring every inch. Not when you moaned around him like he was your favorite flavor.
“Fuck, baby,” Kuroo had groaned, head tilted back. “You’re gonna kill me.”
And you? You just smirked.
“I’ll make it worth your while.” He didn’t doubt it.
Kuroo had been ruined for anyone else after that.
The moment you rode him in his home office, shirt half-unbuttoned, your hands gripping the back of his chair, hair falling into your eyes and mouth hanging open when you moaned his name—Tetsurou—like it was the only thing that mattered in the world.
He never wanted to let you go anymore.
If he could marry you right then and there—naked, sweaty, your panties dangling from his desk lamp—he would’ve gotten down on one knee without a ring. Just a promise. Just you and him.
But you deserved something better. Probably something by the ocean. A quiet, golden beach proposal with the sound of waves behind you and a little velvet box tucked behind one of his science joke t-shirts. Yeah. That’d be perfect. He’d plan that out eventually.
Still, your little dates didn’t slow down.
Lego-building marathons in his living room, your legs tangled across his lap as you bickered about which minifig was better. Cuddles during movie nights where you wore his college volleyball hoodie and snuck popcorn from his bowl. Quiet mornings when you stayed over, sipping coffee and flipping through manga in nothing but your panties and his button-down shirt.
You called it simple. He called it everything.
Kuroo kept giving you things. His love language wasn’t subtle.
Whenever you were at your apartment, a box would show up. Your favorite snacks. A collector’s edition manga you mentioned only once. That limited-edition Ninjago set you joked about. Sometimes he even had them delivered while you were out—just so he could text,
"Check your doorstep, sweetheart."
And when you opened the door, it was there. Sometimes with a post-it that read, "Build this with me tonight?"
And you always did. The second you stepped inside his apartment—his real home, now that you’d practically claimed it with your spare toothbrush and the fluffy slippers he bought for you—there’d be a new set waiting on the table. Or a volume laid neatly beside your favorite spot on the couch.
You would groan playfully, “Tetsu, this is too much…”
But your eyes always sparkled. And that was all he ever needed to see.
Kuroo wasn’t a man of restraint when it came to spoiling you. He liked seeing your expression when you tore the wrapping off. He liiked hearing your happy little gasps. And he especially liked the way you thanked him—sweet kisses at first, and then crawling into his lap and grinding down until his hands gripped your thighs, his voice rasping near your ear.
"Fuck, sweetheart. Is this how you're gonna thank me every time I buy you something?"
You always gave him cuddles… or him fucking you in return.
Neither of you would have it any other way.
Most of your dates happened right there in his apartment. It was your little world. The walls full of bookshelves, scattered Lego creations proudly displayed beside framed photos of his team. Your favorite blanket always draped over his couch, because he swore it smelled like you. You’d both start watching something—some superhero rewatch, some obscure Netflix docuseries—and end up tangled on the couch, kisses turning sloppy, laughter breaking into gasps as he dragged you under him.
It was always his apartment. His couch. His bed. His office. You bent over his desk, your nails scratching at the surface as he fucked you from behind. Or on his kitchen counter, panties pushed aside as he held your thighs apart and groaned against your neck.
"You’re fuckin’ perfect, sweetheart," he’d whisper against your skin. "Can’t believe you’re mine."
And you—smirking, breathless, always ready to drive him wild—would moan out, “I’m all yours, darling.”
That was the thing about you two. No matter where, no matter what—it was always just the two of you. A little domestic chaos, a little nerdy fun, and a whole lot of love.
Kuroo Tetsuro was ruined for anyone else.
And truthfully, he liked it that way.
He liked waking up in his apartment with your leg tangled with his. He liked how your shampoo clung to his pillows and how your glasses sat on his kitchen island beside your empty mug. He liked carrying you to bed when you fell asleep on the couch with a LEGO brick half-built in your hand. He liked that you left things behind—your books, your socks, your presence.
Kuroo Tetsuro had turned his apartment into a second home for you, and he didn’t even realize it until one afternoon when you opened a drawer in his bathroom and found your toothbrush, your hair ties, and your lip balm already waiting. It felt easy with him—domestic. Warm. Comfortable. Real.
But last night, he needed more than domestic.
He’d just come back from a grueling business trip—seven days without you. Seven days of restless sleep, ignored hotel breakfasts, and staring at unread messages while stuck in JVA meetings that ran longer than necessary.
And the second he saw your text, “Door’s open. I’m still up.”
He didn’t go home.
He went to your apartment instead. And the second he walked in and saw you in your oversized sleep shirt and those thick-rimmed glasses you forgot you were wearing—his restraint snapped.
He took you right there in your bedroom.
On the bed. Then again on the floor. And once more with your thighs trembling on the edge of your desk as his name broke from your throat in loud, obscene cries you couldn’t muffle even if you tried.
Kuroo always had a thing for your glasses. Something about the way you looked up at him while you were on your knees, eyes blown out, lips stretched around him, lenses fogging up while you sucked him deep like you missed the taste of him as much as he missed the heat of your body. And he always loved how you let him fuck you in them—wanted it even—telling him how dirty it made you feel when his cum splattered your lenses or dripped down your chin as he kissed you hungrily after.
And last night?
He made you wear them the entire time. Told you he’d missed seeing your pretty face get ruined while they were still on.
So yeah, Kuroo made good on every lost second from that trip. Filled you so many times you couldn’t remember if your name or his was the last thing you said before passing out. Your inner thighs ached. Your sheets were still crumpled with drying stains. And you still felt the wet, pulsing mess between your legs as you stood in the kitchen making breakfast the next morning, robe half-open, neck blooming with hickeys.
He had left early for another JVA morning call—but not before kissing your forehead and stuffing you full one last time in the shower.
But of course—unfortunately for you—your roommate had heard everything.
At first, she brushed it off. You weren’t exactly loud usually, and she assumed you were probably a virgin or celibate by choice. But when she heard your voice—unfiltered, breathless, begging—moaning “Tetsu!” like a prayer answered through gritted teeth and slick skin, it made her stomach churn.
And it was the final straw when his voice echoed in return.
Moaning your name.
Groaning about how tight you were. How much he missed your pussy. How pretty you looked taking every drop.
It made her snap.
So when you entered the living room that morning, holding your travel mug and your bag slung over your shoulder, she was already there—arms crossed, face sour, passive-aggressive aura bleeding into the walls.
“How long has that been going on?” she asked without looking at you.
You didn’t pretend to misunderstand. You just sipped your coffee.
“Define that.”
Her nostrils flared. “Don’t play dumb.”
You leaned against the counter, hair still wet from the shower, smirking slightly.
“If you mean Tetsuro—last night was just making up for lost time,” you said airily. “He missed me. So did my thighs, apparently.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“Funny. That’s not what you said when you told me all about your foursome while dating him,” you replied, tilting your head. “One behind, one underneath, and one shoving it down your throat, right? You left the bedroom door open just so I’d see. Said you were trying to prove a point. What point was that again?”
Her mouth opened, then closed. Scoffed. “That doesn’t mean you get to snake away my ex.”
Your grin widened—sharp, knowing.
“Sweetheart, you cheated on him constantly. I just didn’t say anything because, frankly, it wasn’t my relationship to mourn.”
She rolled her eyes. “He’s probably just using you to get back at me. You really think Kuroo Tetsuro would go for you? You said it yourself—he’s a career man. And you—well, look at you.”
You took another sip from your mug. Unbothered. Your petty meter had barely lifted.
“You told me he wouldn’t fuck someone who wore glasses. Now he asks me to keep them on. Funny how things change.”
She scoffed again, louder this time. “You’re seriously going to act like I wasn’t the best sex he ever had?”
“I don’t have to act. I know he’d disagree,” you replied, voice sugar-sweet. “Besides, we were just friends at first. You remember that, don’t you? He liked my LEGO builds. We bonded over manga. I still have the first limited edition he gifted me. First of many.”
“I knew something was up when he started hanging out with you more. You’re not even his type.”
“He said I’m exactly his type,” you said softly. “Smart. Funny. Loyal. And, apparently, really good at taking his cock.”
That was the one that hit.
Her eyes narrowed. “Just because you finally lost your virginity doesn’t mean you’re special.”
You laughed, really laughed, and set your mug down.
“Oh, sweetie. I’ve had a wild sex life in college. I just toned it down to focus on work. Tetsu just brought it back out. And then some. He fucks me in every corner of his apartment. Did he ever do that with you? Kitchen table? Floor? Balcony during rush hour?”
She didn’t answer.
“Didn’t think so,” you murmured.
“You’re lying.”
You stepped forward and whispered like it was a secret.
“He came in me three times last night,” you said casually. “Told me he missed seeing it drip out. Even helped push it back in.”
Her face twisted.
You raised your brows. “But if you want, I can play you the voice memo he sent me last month. He had his cock in his hand and couldn’t stop moaning my name. It’s really quite romantic.”
“Bitch.”
You tilted your head. “Always have been. Just quieter about it.”
She let out an angry shriek before stomping back to her room and slamming the door hard enough to rattle the coat hooks.
You took another sip from your mug and hummed under your breath.
Toned down? Maybe. But this?
This was your victory lap.
And you hadn’t even told her yet about the time Kuroo made you cum just from sucking on your tits while you rode his thigh—glasses on, mouth wet, his hand around your throat as he whispered that he wanted to keep you forever.
Brainstorm covered your eyes by placing a servo over your face. His other servo held onto your lap to keep you steady as you sat on his shoulder. The position was a little awkward but it was a bit better than Brainstorm holding you like a Panic Pete doll in his excitement.
You hummed a little cautious of what he was planning on showing you but still very curious.
Brainstorm has become somewhat infatuated with you. The little human aboard the Lost Light so much smaller than a minibot. It was a shock to everyone when he approached you one night at Swerve’s. He just rambled and talked while you listened. It was kind of endearing in a way.
He always seemed to find an excuse to pick you up, carry you around, spend time with you, or touch you in some way. It was honestly making Perceptor a bit nauseous watching his lab partner so lovey-dovey.
You returning his affection only made things worse. It seemed like little hearts were constantly floating around Brainstorm’s helm. It also didn’t help that Perceptor had found human pornographic magazines under one of Brainstorm’s project.
“It’s for research. When my partner and I reach that point in our relationship, I want to make sure I know what I’m doing!”
To Brainstorm’s credit Perceptor did find an actual human anatomy chart and a couple papers on human sexology with the dirty magazines but the magazines outnumbered the other items by a Long shot.
Perceptor would be working then feel the aroused pulse of Brainstorm’s EMP field as the teal bot was staring off into space. Primus help him.
It was no secret that Brainstorm wished to move your relationship past its current point. As lovely as your innocent kisses are, he couldn’t stop thinking about you spread wide on his spike. The sounds you’d make, how warm you’d feel around him, how tight your little body would be gripping onto his spike.
That was actually the biggest issue.
You barely came up to his knee plate and yet you were somehow expected to take his spike? It’s not that he doubts your abilities but he’d rather not have to go to Ratchet “I didn’t major in organics” of Vaporex to see if he can sew a human back together again.
“Ta-da!”
Brainstorm took his servo away from your face to show you what was basically a large dildo mounted on some smooth electronic components on Brainstorm’s personal desk in his habsuite.
You felt your body heat up in embarrassment. Why did he want to show you a sex toy?
“I know: too impressed to speak! I didn’t think it could be done, well I knew it could but I didn’t expect to finish it so fast!”
You slowly turned your head to face Brainstorm, a horrified and confused look on your face. He only stared back with excitement in his optics. You then looked back at the dildo.
It was the same teal and white as Brainstorm with a tapered tip and a thick middle that slimmed out near the base. It looked to have a sort of metal chord like texture to it.
Then it hit you.
“Is that your dick? Did you make a smaller version of your dick?”
Brainstorm’s engine revved in excitement at your realization. “Not only did I make a smaller you-sized version of my spike but it’s also wireless! You can take it and use it wherever you go.”
You squeezed your thighs together and covered your mouth with your hand. Brainstorm wasn’t the best at communication. He simply dove into his ideas and whims while holding you in his servo and it seems like him asking for sex was no different.
“Use?” You cautiously asked trying to make sense of what Brainstorm was insinuating.
“Yes! For vaginal, anal, and oral penetration or manual stimulation.” Brainstorm wiggled his optic ridge at the last part.
“Did you make me a dildo of your own dick?”
Brainstorm seemed almost offended by your description recoiling a little bit and putting a servo to his chasis. “Dildo? This is more than a primitive toy! As I said, it’s wireless so it’s connected to my interface panel without me having to modify my frame. Anything you do to it, I will feel.”
You flipped your attention away from the toy back to Brainstorm. His face plate was flushed blue with energon as his grip tightened on your lap. You could practically feel his spark thrumming in excitement.
“Could I try it?”
Brainstorm couldn’t help the delighted rev of his engine. The vibrations making their way through his frame and to your core. “I made it with just that in mind.”
He slid his mask off, sitting it down on the desk away from the toy before moving to kiss at your face. You guided Brainstorm so his top derma was pressed against your lips. The pliable metal surface all too familiar under your mouth. Your tongue peeking out from behind your lips to lick at his derma.
“Frag I need you so bad,” Brainstorm groaned against your mouth. He swiftly grabbed you off his shoulder before scooping up the toy from his desk and flopping on his berth with you on his chasis.
You squeaked at the sudden change in position earning an appreciative chuckle from Brainstorm. “Make more of those sounds,” he teased guiding you back to his intake.
You reached out your arms to hold his cheeks in your much smaller hands. Your lips rubbing across his dermas teasingly before finally giving in and pulling him into a passionate kiss.
His servos rested on your hips where he begun guiding you to grind your clothed pussy against his chasis. “Primus I can’t wait to feel that val-vagina,” Brainstorm corrected himself trying to use human terminology to talk about your body. You only choked out a laugh against his dermas at his verbiage.
Brainstorm pulled you away from his intake with his pride clearly bruised at your giggle.
“Is that not what your human valve is called?”
“It is but that’s like the clinical term,” you said rubbing his face plate tenderly. Brainstorm seemed to relax a little but was still a bit upset that he had gotten the phrasing wrong.
“You don’t have to try to use human terms, baby,” you said peppering kisses across his face plate. “It’s fine to call my pussy a valve.”
Brainstorm groaned having you cover him in such innocent affection while speaking about your own genitalia so casually. He’d remembered seeing nude models spreading their legs, bent over, and getting fucked in all sorts of positions within his ‘research’ magazines. Every time he imagined they were you spread out and gaping from taking a spike too big for your hole. All wet and leaking from cumming only to have your pussy plugged again by either his digits or his spike.
“I need you to get these off before I tear them off,” Brainstorm rumbled while pulling at your clothes. You considered for a minute the idea of Brainstorm tearing your clothes to shreds. While tempting you did not have an extra pair in his habsuite and Brainstorm would be all too eager to show off just exactly what he did to you.
You pulled your shirt up over your head as Brainstorm’s gentle digits ran over the skin of your chest down to your stomach. He pinched at the fat on your hips making you squeal and slap your hands down onto his chasis with your shirt still on your arms.
“You’re so soft,” Brainstorm only continued fondling your hips. “You did that on purpose,” you groaned tossing your shirt at Brainstorm’s faceplate.
Brainstorm only gave you a shit eating grin as he tossed your shirt aside. “No but I can’t say that your reaction wasn’t appreciated.” You huffed grabbing onto his servos with your hands as he fondled up and down your sides simply appreciating the flesh there.
“Don’t look at me with that face,” Brainstorm scolded tightening his grip on your hips. “I have half the mind to tear you apart on my real spike when you look at me like that.”
You couldn’t help the airy moan that came out of your mouth when you tried to speak. Brainstorm started to guide your hips to grind against his chasis. “Is that really all I have to do to make you moan?” Brainstorm teased. “Just say some dirty words and suddenly you’re leaking through your little human coverings?”
You hold onto Brainstorm’s servos as you moved your hips with the rhythm he set. “Perceptor told me he found your porn magazines,” you shot back with a mischievous smile.
Brainstorm’s servos stilled forcing your hips to stop. His optics were wide, he face flushed blue, and his lips parted like he was going to say something. For once you caught him off guard.
“Do you have a little human fetish?” You continued to tease while unbuttoning your pants. “You look so cute right now, Stormy. I wish I could take a picture of your face.”
Brainstorm’s expression changed from one of pure embarrassment to anger. He grabbed the waist of your pants pulling the fabric down your legs so fast you fell backwards. There was a slight tearing sound as he tossed your pants to the side. His servos grabbed your thighs making you spread your legs and reveal the wet spot that was growing in your underwear.
“Shut up,” Brainstorm growled as he dragged you closer to his faceplate. “Perceptor has no reason to speak to you.” His massive glossa ran over your clothed cunt. You moaned arching your hips up to his intake. “You’re mine,” Brainstorm posited his statement with another slow lick to your underwear.
You reached your hand out to hold onto one of Brainstorm’s digits as he began eating you out through your wet underwear. His dermas moved softly around your pelvis as his glossa sloppily licked at whatever he could find. “Doesn’t-fuck!,” you moaned out when Brainstorm began sucking on your pelvis area. “Doesn’t change the fact that you were jerking it to human porn on the job.” You couldn’t help but laugh at Brainstorm’s furious optics when they moved to look at your face. “Did you have this in mind when we first met?” You humped against his intake earning a pleased growl from the mech. His vocals vibrated through your entire body making you gasp out his name.
“Fuck! I’m sorry for making you wait so long! Should’ve fucked me right on the table,” you turned your head moaning and panting at Brainstorm’s treatment of your cunt.
Brainstorm moved away from your pussy grabbing the waistband of your underwear between his teeth and tearing them off your body. You had half the mind to scold him for tearing not only your pants but now your underwear but instead you were interrupted by a hot lick to your bare cunt.
“I should have,” Brainstorm agreed mulling over the taste of your pussy. “I should have spread out your little human valve right in the middle of Swerve’s. Humans stretch, if you can push another human out of this hole-“ Brainstorm rubbed his index against your pulsing hole before pushing the tip in making you arch your back and hiss in both pain and pleasure. “You could have taken my spike.”
“You would have ripped me apart!” You moan out while moving your hips against his digit.
Brainstorm looked all too pleased at you as he reached for the miniature version if his own spike. “I really would have,” he grinned. You heard a hiss like a release of air. You tilted your head back only to gawk in awe if the massive appendage before you.
His spike identical to the small version he was holding was leaking pink transfluid. Your mouth watered at the thought of licking him clean.
“Brainstorm, baby,” you said in an airy voice. “Please let me suck you. Fuck your dick looks so good!”
A shudder ran through Brainstorm that made his spike twitch. He released his grip on your legs allowing you to crawl over his chasis and to his spike. It was probably the length of your leg or just a little shorter. You couldn’t imagine trying to take him to the base but your hole pulsed at the idea anyway. Brainstorm watched appreciatively as you stood on your hands and knees just marveling at his spike. Your bare ass and pussy presented to him like a present.
“Go ahead, sweet spark,” Brainstorm moaned as he measured the smaller version of his spike against your cunt. “It’s all yours.”
You practically pounced on his spike your hands rubbing over the biolights as they pulsed the same blue light as his eyes. Your tongue traced up his shaft to his leaky head in worship. Brainstorm gasped out curling his hips forward into your eager touch. Your tongue slurped up as much of his transfluid as you could. Brainstorm nearly dropped the miniature version of his spike at the feeling of your soft mouth working his spike. It was everything he’d ever dreamed of. Those fantasies and restless recharge cycles spent thinking about your cute lips wrapped around him, your soft pussy leaking in front of him, everything was finally coming together.
Your hips wiggled so cutely in front of him he couldn’t help but press the tip of the miniature spike to your hole.
You gasped pushing your hips back at the feeling.
Brainstorm whined being able to feel both your leaky cunt and your hands at the same time. “Is it too much, baby?” You murmured with your lips trailing his spike. Brainstorm moaned out your name as he pushed the tip of the toy inside of you.
“Keep-“ Brainstorm felt his body glitch in pleasure. “Keep sucking.” He was panting at the simultaneous feeling of your pussy wrapped around him via the miniature of his spike and your lips on his actual member.
You obeyed Brainstorm’s plea kissing and sucking on the tip of his cock while slowly moving your hips against his miniature. “You taste so good, Stormy,” you moaned while licking the transfluid off your lips. Brainstorm’s servo grabbed the back of your head pushing you back down onto his spike. You squeaked out a surprised noise as your mouth engulfed the head of his spike once more.
He slipped more of the miniature into you his intake open and drooling at the feeling of both your pussy and mouth on him. Your tongue licking and teasing his slit while the wet walls of your cunt gripped him.
You squeezed your eyes shut feeling your hole being spread open over the thickest part of the miniature. You whined around his spike trying to push your hips back against the toy. It was then with a wet pop that you were able to take Brainstorm’s miniature spike to the base.
You felt stretched beyond belief. Your hole having never taken something so big. You sloppily licked around Brainstorm’s spike feeling drunk off of his spike. You needed more of him, you wanted more of him. Your hips rose and fell over the toy as Brainstorm held it to keep it steady. You were so soft, so wet. He couldn’t believe the feeling if your soft little human valve wrapped around him while you licked and worshiped his spike.
His eyes followed your pussy as his miniature slid in and out of your greedy hole with every rise and fall of your hips. The wet slapping of your drooling cunt against the metal of the toy was enough to have Brainstorm shivering and humping your mouth with his actual spike.
You moaned, hearts practically in your eyes, letting Brainstorm take from your mouth what he wanted.
“You’re so good,” there was a slight glitch in Brainstorm’s vocalizers. “I don’t think I’d be able to stop. I’m going to keep your valve stretched out like this all the time.” You shivered grinding your hips at the base of the toy. You released your mouth from Brainstorm’s spike with a wet pop as you wrapped your arms around the metal appendage. His humped against your torso while you bounced on the toy. The stimulation was proving too much and Brainstorm couldn’t hold back the cry of your name as he covered you in his transfluids.
Your face and torso were flooded with the glowing pink substance. You stood still in shock not expecting there to be so much cum. You looked over your shoulder at your panting lover. His optics half lidded and his intake open. His vents rushed air in and out trying to cool him down and the sight of your face covered in his release didn’t help.
He could still feel your pussy wrapped around him. Fluttering walls making him whine in overstimulation.
You smirked at his noise as you brought your hips up only to slam them back down. Brainstorm let out an almost pained moan but did nothing to stop you.
“Feel good?” You teased leaning forward so Brainstorm could get a better view of your sloppy cunt slobbering all over the miniature of his spike. Brainstorm nodded and for once was without words.
You eagerly bounced on his toy taking whatever you wanted from him. His optic ridges pulled together as he winced. It was starting to hurt having you fuck him after his overload but the feeling of your walls so wet and tight around him was too wonderful to stop.
“Mmmm,” you moaned arching your back. “I cant wait to use this again. I might keep it in me all day.”
Brainstorm swore under his breath his servos grabbing your hips to guide you up and down the toy. “You’d look so cute trying not to cum in front of everyone,” you teased. “No one would have any idea that your little human was using you like a toy.”
Brainstorm’s grip was bruising. You shivered knowing you’d have the imprints of his servos on your hips for days to come. Your hand wandered down to your clit rubbing the tight bundle in circles. The room was filled with the sounds of panting, gasping, and the wet plapping of your pussy as you fucked yourself on Brainstorm’s miniature.
“Fuck!” You cried tears coming to your eyes. “I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum all over your spike!”
You screamed Brainstorm’s name as a rush of fluids exited your body. Your squirt dripped down Brainstorm’s teal plating as you rode out your high. Your words were a jumbled mess of praise and Brainstorm’s name. He felt his spark flutter in pure bliss seeing his lover covered in his transfluid riding out their high on top of him.
“So good,” You muttered before feeling your knees go weak. Brainstorm’s servos kept you steady and balanced as he slipped you off the toy. A string of your slick arousal still connected your pulsing cunt to the miniature. He slowly rested your body against his helm as he carefully set the miniature aside.
You panted letting your body rest against his helm with your legs draped over his chasis. Your pussy still throbbing from your orgasm.
“I love you,” Brainstorm panted while stroking up your body with one of his servos. You turned your head pressing kisses to the side of his face plate. “Do you think you could make one of those but it’s my pussy instead?”
You had to hold on tight to Brainstorm’s faceplate as he jolted up in the berth. His eyes wide in excitement and realization. “I bet I could!” Brainstorm exclaimed his mind already running wild with ideas. You giggled holding onto his helm already excited for what he had planned.
Themes: Franky x gn!reader, angst, self worth, Franky has a little bit of dysmorphia, affirmation, fluff, smut, thigh riding, confession, body worship, praise, love, porn with feelings, mdni, NSFW, smut, 18+, non descript smut, grinding.
Notes: Massive shoutout to @thenotsofantasticlifestory for listening to my thoughts and aiding me with my time on this fic. I love this man, and I adore you. First time writing for Franky.
Cogs, wires, fizzes, and snaps of electrical circuits rang and shuddered within the chambers crafted by Franky’s own hands. There was never a silence to be held within him, not a calm moment where his body was not ticking like a clock wound by a coiled winch. He was constantly on, always on.
There was not a moment where man and machine were no longer merged as one, and Franky usually had no issue with being a self-made man in more ways than simple determination and gumption. But today, he just felt unnatural. He felt those cogs, wires, fizzes and snaps of electrical circuits overtake the humanity he so desperately attempted to preserve within himself.
He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t speak. He didn’t see the body he crafted as a work of mastery, but something foreign and tainted. He couldn’t look at himself without seeing the parts of his flesh, bone, and muscle he replaced, rendered, soldered, and attached. He was no longer himself, but just those parts he forged to keep himself alive.
A pile of scrap made into the shape of a man. Flesh from his prior life stretched over a frame of humanity pushed to its extremities.
Unsure as to when the first tear fell, or whether they were tears at all, his rounded eyes swelled and poured heavy drops down his cheeks and onto his chest within his workshop. Usually when he cried, he had the sensation of an almost sting in his nose: nostrils flaring and a saltiness within his nasal cavity. The lack of this feeling within his steel nose now only made him feel more like a machine and less of a man.
A soft knock at his workshop door was barely audible over the mechanical symphony rattling within his mind and skull. He scrunched his eyes shut and focussed finding a single sound to focus on within himself to no avail. It was just too much. Too noisy. Too intense. Too overwhelming. Too-.
“-Franky?” your voice shocks him out of his spiral, truly unaware of the opening and closing of the door to his workshop. He jolted back, beginning to panic a little while his body caught up to the way his mind was spiraling.
Keeping a safe distance away from the cyborg, you took him in. Noticing how his shoulders and hands were beginning to shake, you tilted your head and furrowed your brows while assessing him further. Franky’s eyes met with yours, a soft quiver of his lip atop his tri-pointed chin matching the forlorn expression blooming over his face.
As ships’ counselor, it was your job to advise and flesh out plans for your captain. It was also within your job title to unweave the troubled thoughts and matters of the head and heart for your crew.
Franky was a friend to you, and you adored the large cyborg wholeheartedly. If he ever gave you an opportunity to see him as more than just a friend or crewmate, you would take it before your heart could skip a beat.
There was no favorites on the Straw-Hat crew, but if there was, Franky would be it for you. You truly loved him for all that he was: man, machine, or otherwise.
It did not take much more than a soft sniffle from the larger man to usher you towards the larger man, opening your arms and taking him within your embrace. Pressing his head against your chest, you cradled his face within your hands and slowed your breathing for him to join with his own. His shoulders slouched, a single hand wrapping around your back and feeling the warmth your body had to offer him in the sensors within his palm and fingers.
Gently carding through his blue hair, you felt him relax into your touch while his ear pressed up against your heartbeat. His broad hands began to clutch at you and tug you into his lap, each thigh placed atop his own at the side while he pressed more of himself into you.
“Want to talk about it, big guy?” you asked softer than a murmur, but louder than a whisper, “I’m always here to talk with you when you need it, just like you are with me. Open door, honesty policy, remember?”
Franky sniffed before a raspy chuckle rattled in his throat. Tugging you nearer to him and releasing a sigh, he moved his chin to rest on your chest while peering up into your face. Gazing down at him, you offered him a softness in your smile while peering into his unshrouded eyes.
“Just-...” he began, waiting for the words to find themselves in his throat, “...It's just… I can't quite put it to words, now you mention it.” His chuckle was more in a bid to rise one of your own, teetering off the more he drank in your smile.
Darting his dark eyes between your own, glancing briefly down at your lips, he drank in your appearance the closer he drew to your face. You and he were nothing more than exceptionally close friends, but the cogs churning in his stomach and heart desperately desired there be a moment. He leaned in just a touch more, his eyes rounded just a touch more while his jaw grew softly slack.
“Franky?” Your voice soothed him, a smile found in each syllable, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re wanting to kiss me.”
Franky’s eyes darted down to your lips, angling his tri-pointed chin up just a small shift more. His eyelids grew heavy, lashes heavy as his pupils focussed on the way your lips curved in your smile.
“Do you?” he whispered, his voice heavy and husky within his throat. His hands desperately clasped the small of your back, his receptors tingling in indicating your body heat growing warmer.
“Do I ‘what’, Franky?” you queeried, not shying away from his touch. You were curious to see how far he would take this action, enjoying the attention he was giving you and feeling secure within his embrace.
Franky’s outer hand slid down to your thigh, his other moving you closer to press yourself into his chest. The blue-haired cyborg moved his lips in a tone just above a whisper, his breath tingling against your mouth as he ascended them towards yours.
“Know any better.”
His lips immediately claimed your own, focussing his own existentialism on claiming your lips against his own. His skin felt your warmth as you opened yourself up to him. Each roll of his lips mouthing at yours was reciprocated with eager enthusiasm, and Franky began to feel just that little bit calmer.
Until he wondered if it was truly his skin touching your own, not what receptors told him it was. Was it his lips touching you, or the cogs behind him sending sparks to his mind and alerting his brain that it was truly you giving into him.
Did you even like him?
Were you attracted to the man that he made himself to be?
Did you even see him as a man, not just a creation marred with the injury of battle and reforged by his own mind?
You sensed his enthusiasm dwindle against your lips, prompting you to close off the embrace with a soft peck. As you pulled away your lips from his, you peered down at him with your eyes half-lidded and holding nothing but a slight amount of teasing pulled in a soft smirk.
“Franky?”
When you met his gaze once more, your smirk immediately fled your features.
His eyes were glassy, his expression the polar opposite of the manner he usually presented himself as. There was nothing of the boisterous, uplifting, passionate, and optimistic cyborg you had come to adore, and it's absence held you hostage.
“Franky,” you sighed, gently reaching up and cupping his cheek. “Please. There's something going on, and as your counselor, I need to know. I could leave the job at the door and just be-.”
“-What am I?” he answered suddenly, his lips toppling hurriedly over the words, “I need to know.”
Taken aback by his hasty questions, you furrow your brows at him and check him over. Darting your eyes over his face, noticing his posture becoming slightly slouched and his hands holding you in heaped fistfuls, you inhale a soft and steady breath before exhaling.
Your breathing inadvertently has him so the same, both inhaling and exhaling slowly and steadily. After a moment of you both dwelling in the silence, you answer him with a non-rehearsed speech from the heart.
“You are Franky,” you whisper, rolling the pad of your thumb against the apple of his cheek, “Shipwright to the Straw Hat Pirates, senior officer shepherding the Straw Hat Grand Fleet. Creator and master constructor of the Thousand Sunny. Former gang leader, who convinced those joining to switch from beer to cola, and-...”
Franky nodded you on, convincing you to continue to affirm him with your words. You could see it was not entirely the answer he was seeking, which spurred you on to change to how deeply remarkable you found him.
“...-You are so kind. An exceptionally intelligent person with your heart beating for others,” you nod to him, catching the hitch in his throat and paying it no mind. “The way your mind can see the mastery in machines, crafting it with your hands, and forging it into the best version of itself is a gift.” You draw your other hand up to his bare chest, feeling a fizz and beat beneath the skin while you speak.
“You don't just do this with your skilled labor, Franky.” You reassure him, glancing down to your knuckles on the back of your hand in his chest. “You see the potential in others, and coax them skillfully to bring it to the light.” A small laugh fled from your lips, prompting you to shake your head and whisper, “A remarkable skill, and I envy you for it.”
The dampness felt beneath the fingers on his cheek had you moving your eyes slowly back up to meet his own.
“You are, and will forever be, Franky: man, machine, both married as one and inseparable from the other,” you concluded, drawing your hand up on his cheek to slowly caress away his tears. “You are all of this, and you are so much more.”
Franky felt his chest soar, whichever fluid, whether cola or blood, pumped his heart and had him desperate to know more. Considering the fact you didn't pull away from the offerance of a kiss earlier, he drew his hand over your back and rested it on your hip while leaning in.
“What am I to you?”
Without skipping a beat, you spoke truthfully and from the chamber's within your own beating heart.
“And you are beautiful to me.”
Franky scoffed, rolling his eyes and almost pouting at your response. You sigh out with your brow arched high, gently perching your hands against his broad shoulders and grasping his muscles firmly.
“I mean it, Franky,” you reaffirm enthusiastically, “Everything about you is beautiful. Your heart, your soul, your mind, fuck,” you gasp, feeling the firmness of his shoulders beneath his hands.
A warm flush crept up your neck and swelled your cheeks with a vibrant fluster. Franky searched your eyes, darting down to your parted lips and back up to meet your gaze.
“What was that?” he chuckled, picking up your vocal inflection and teasing you with his smile.
“I just,” you halt yourself, slowly molding the joints beneath your palms and squeeze his muscles. “I usually… I usually focus on the mind and heart, but you're-...” Your fingers move down to his scarred pectorals, gently caressing a trail of timidity down towards his nipples.
“...-You're really attractive. Physically attractive,” you admit, pressing a little firmer against his muscles before dipping the pads of your index fingers over his pebbled buds. “Whether it was the kiss from a little earlier, confessing how I see your mind, my position currently on your lap, or the fact that there's a lot of tension between us right now…”
“Oh?” He taunts you a little more tilting his head to the side with a cheeky grin drawing up over his lips. Leaning forward, he pressed more of his pectorals against your hands and whispered coyly against the shell of your ear, “Tell me?”
“Shit,” you stutter past your lips. Eyes rolling a little, you suck your lips into your mouth to halt a moan from fleeing as you feel the tension only swell to a greater intensity.
Franky chuckles, his hands still running circles against your hips and gently ushering you in closer.
“Better yet,” he drew one hand away from your middle and drew it up to collect your chin in his grip. “Show me?”
Your breath hitched as you slowly drew your hand around in circles against his flesh. His skin felt warm to the touch, smooth and soft with coiled ringlets of cerulean fuzz shimmering against his pectorals. Moving your hands up and down his chest, your lips parted in surprise at feeling the buzz of circuitry beneath the stretch of flesh.
“Every nook you've notched into yourself is a work of art, Franky,” you exhale, rolling the pads of your thumbs against his abs and raking them towards his belly. “Each alteration and modification has just made you more you, you know?”
Franky felt his throat hitch at the admission parting from your lips. His body that he saw moments ago as a trap for his spirit, now being worshiped and praised for its mastery. As your hands ran over his skin, his receptors and skin both felt need and desire course through his circuits and veins.
Without any more prompting at your touch, he maneuvered you to straddle one of his thighs and held your pelvis flush against his own. Your hands automatically fled back up to the shoulders that held you captive as he pressed you firmly against himself.
“You like my body much?” The rasp in his voice tangibly reverberated within your chest and shot straight to your crotch, igniting it with need.
“Franky…” you gasp, his hands holding you against his thigh pressed harder, slowly rocking you over the hard muscle lurking beneath. “If you'd give me an opportunity, I'd drop to my knees and worship you like a devotee at an altar.”
Franky chuckles at the comment, using his large, metal hand gripping your waist to slowly rock you back and forward over his thigh. Your stomach bound in knots, your needs only growing higher and more incessant the more he puppetted you against his body and gazed into your eyes.
“No need for all that. I don't need it,” he laughed once more, moving forward and brushing his metal nose gently against yours, “But I do need this.”
His larger hand completely trapped your waist within his grip, knocking your knee against the bulge in his pants and grinding his clothed cock against your own body.
Manhandling you against his leg, bouncing you up to brush more of yourself against his cock, you felt trapped against him as he bore you fully against his body while holding your face gently. His metal thumb stroked your lip as you parted them to release a groan.
Soft whimpers and mewls left your throat as he held your gaze, his own gasps growing in need the longer he rocked you against himself. Your desire began to seep through your pants the longer he held you firmly and guided your motions.
“Show me,” he whispered, peering down his steel nose through half-hooded lashes. “Show me everything.” He worked you harder, his own cock leaking it's head and staining his red briefs with soft dewdrops of precum.
His abdomen tensed, feeling the need rise further in his stomach while his cogs, wires, flesh and bone felt more unified as one than ever. Humanity overtook his senses the longer his primal urge to feel more of you against himself.
You were no different, feeling your own release clench in the pit of your stomach and sizzle your eyes with the first sparks of euphoria. The need fogging your mind spurred you on to bare yourself down against him and begin rutting against him harder. As you found yourself falling over that edge, you clenched your eyes shut, earning you an immediate reprimand from the cyborg cariotting your bliss.
“Eyes on me,” he ordered firmly, “I said ‘show me’. I want to see you. Just you, baby. Gonna cum on my lap?” He rocked you harder, pinching your chin and giving it a soft shake to draw back your gaze on his own.
“Cum for me, baby.”
“Franky-!” you cried, feeling your eyes spring open as your vision blurred as your focus was marred by ecstasy. Your body flooded with endorphins, spurring within your chest and releasing the heavy knots in your belly. The damp patch below you deepened in intensity as your release seeped into his thighs.
Franky’s lips quivered as he darted his eyes between yours, finding in you that tether binding him to the mortal realm. With you anchored against him, he used your body rutting against his own to buck up his clothed cock and roll his hips against your thigh.
With a rough bark of your name, his cock began flooding his briefs with his own release. His eyes never left your face as he rode through his high while you came down from yours.
Two breaths, two hearts, two souls, two people: both enjoying their bodies while clinging to one another. That is where you found yourself, truly just intending to find his office to inform him your crew were about to make port in an island in two hours according to Nami.
As your body slouched against his chest, he cradled you in the same manner you did moments ago while reassuring him of his own body. He had never felt so secure as he did just now with his own body.
“Franky?” you whispered softly, turning your head and pressing your forehead against the crook of his neck.
“Yeah, baby?” He nuzzled against the crown of your head, “What's up?”
“We'll be making port in about forty-five minutes,” you gasp against his skin, pressing a shy kiss against his neck before hiding your gaze in his shoulder to cringe away your giddiness. Franky chuckles, reaching down and collecting your chin in his grip and turning you back to meet his eyes once more.
“Stay with me until then?” he asked softly, blinking slowly and and almost unsure of himself as you seemed to be. You found yourself drowning in his eyes, raw emotion swelling between you as you feel the chemistry fizzing up to a ruptuous tumble.
“After all that?” you scoff playfully, your smile painted over your lips and causing him to mirror it himself, “I'll remain by your side always.”
𓉸ྀི sum. his fatal cause of death? op – overly pussydrunk. the prime suspect? located right between your pretty legs. toji, sukuna, nanami, gojo, choso, geto.
satoru grunts, glassy eyes widening as he’s watching his reddened swollen tip disappear between your slick entrance. panting out soft whispering ‘hooooly shit’ ‘s and ‘fuck’ ‘s, you could already tell he’s done for. he’s been inside of you more times than you could count—but it’s like every time is the first time. riding the satoru gojo was a fatality in itself. anytime you ride him he’s weak, and he’s even weaker once you’re staring him dead in the eyes—luxuriating in his lewd contorting facial expressions. it was just the way his crystalline-colored eyes would criss ‘n cross, rolling waaaay back into the dark voids of his head each time he cums inside. satoru always loses it whenever you fuck him, scraping your frantic hips against his and quite literally fucking the brat out of him. “yeah, fuck me. don’t stop baby, don’t—fuckin’—stopp, and he glues his palms against both sides of your waist. your knees rest against his bulky thighs as you’re jerking back ‘n forth, watching his jaw go slack whilst his glossed lips part into a wheezing ‘o.’
and at that moment, he knew he was pussy drunk.
the bed creaks beneath you both. it’s creaks sounded more like groans, and the entire wooden headboard was practically about to split in half.
“mhm, eyes on me ‘toru,” you remind him, glancing at his icy blue eyes that wandered every direction but your face. that was always a habit of his. whenever you rode him, sometimes he’d stare off to the side . . or the ceiling . . or his favorite place, your bouncy tits. “not there, baby,” you tilt his chin up, watching the pout gloss across his lips. satoru claws a hand at your hip, grunting as your cunt sucks him in wholly. every time—you had quite the grip on him, and it’s enough to make him his blushing tip smear across your insides. you moan, feeling the hooked curve of his cock expand through your walls, zigzagging its way through your pasty entrance. “fuck, ‘toru. close again, yeah?”
“m- mhm,” he inhales, gnawing at the bars of his inclosure. your hips were killer . . and every single time - he falls in love with how greedy you slam back and forth against him. rutting hips of yours constantly clashing further into him before a hand wraps around his throat. satoru’s snowy lashes flutter as he glances at you, moaning once you give his neck a slight squeeze. “heh, kinky today, are we angel? usually i’m the one who does the choki—fuuck,” he croaks mid sentence. your squeeze around his throat tightens just a bit, not too much. it’s the right amount of pressure that makes his dick twitch inside of you, and you feel the sporadic pulse instantly. satoru starts to pant, and as your cunt’s still freely constricting around his lanky fat length, his head leans back. “goddd, such a naughty girl. you get y’r cockiness from me that’s for sure.”
“do i?” you purr, leaning in to lick a slope down his neck. satoru moans, and a barred palm of his creeps down toward the fat near heart-shaped juncture of your ass. with a stinging whack, he smacks your rear as you rut into him at a much more quicker pace. with the way your hips rolled, you were gonna hypnotize him with your pussy. you’ve still got dried splotches of cum sticking at your sides before his lips start to quiver in impatient frolic. “baby, open your mouth,” you hum, a sudden idea popping into your head.
working even thinking, the white haired man pries open his mouth before looking at you with low hooded, pussy drunk eyes. “ ‘kay,” he replies submissively, heaving each drawn out breath through his full lungs. satoru’s cock plugs you in snug ‘n fully, and each time you slam your flooding wet cunt against his lap—he’d get whiplash. “what, do i stick out my tongue too or . .” and he pauses, cocky grin fading, and within seconds—he’s growing sheepish once he sees you smugly grinning. “oh.. you’re serious, okay!”
satoru lolls out his pink clean tongue, singing out a playful ‘ahhh’ before that’s when you spit directly in his mouth. he blinks thrice, and instinctively, he swallows. after he savors your taste, a slutty moan leaves from the back of his throat as he’s squeezing your ass. “fuck, do that shit again.”
“yeahhh, more?” you whisper, wiping a thumb across his slick pursed lips. satoru broke a cold sweat, and the more you touched him—the more he started to pant like a dog. his dick ached inside of you, and every time you clamp down on him he lets out a sharp hiss. compressing his lips together again, you give him a quick chaste kiss before purring haughtily. “say ‘pretty please’.”
satoru pouts before sighing with a grousing grumble. his ego was nearly massacred, but he wanted more . . and he wanted you. “pretty . . please,” and he brings a hand toward your right breast, stroking a thumb against your nipple. satoru watches you writhe with his dick still tucked inside before his smugness shortly returns.
“spit in my mouth again,” and satoru, with his lopsided cunt-drunk grin, he puffs his lip out, giving your ass it’s final playful spank. “mommy.”
☆ TOJI FUSHIGURO
toji fushiguro’s an absolute animal whenever it comes to your pussy. straight up, and he might as well change his tittle to the ‘pussy killer.’
he practically lived between your thighs, and fuck could he eat. it doesn’t take toji long at all to get pussy drunk either—in fact, all he even has to do is just smear the buttony tip of his nose down your sopping wet clit, getting a nice whiff.
your scent – it was so strong that without even using his tongue yet, he could already taste you. his tastebuds were salivating… and with you lying pretty, legs sprawled and all, you really brought out the beast out in him. you meet his feral entranced gaze and toji’s heavily panting—already starting to drool from the cracked crevices of his lips just at staring at your cunt.
and all you knew was . .
he’s hungry, and you made him this way.
“f- fuuuck, toji,” you’d croon out a whine, wiggling your hips before he pulls your jittery legs apart from each other. your legs stuck together with such gluey sapping slick that it was cute—you felt hot the more he started to bring his face towards your teary entrance. “n-ngh,” a soft grunt leaves from you as you felt his cold stare intently focus on your poor weeping folds.
one of toji’s favorite things to do though, was to eat you out.. right after he came inside . . and oh, it was the prettiest sight he could ever see.
as toji swiftly goads a plump thumb up to your tender labia, he watches as the mess start to stream out of you – all at once.
you were putting mere waterfalls to shame with how wet you were, just profusely sopping. as he continues to have an eye contest with your sweet drenched folds for a long amount of seconds—toji finally closes the distance, leaning in and sloppily pressing a kiss your pussy.
immediately, he hears the cute ‘psssh’ ‘s your entrance makes and he darkly chuckles once he feels lustrous strings tear away from your entrance, landing onto his mouth. toji didn’t care that he was tasting himself—a sweet.. filthy mixture of you and him that’s now shamelessly coating his scarred, wry lips.
there’s a faint tang of bitterness as he starts to dip his tongue in ‘n out of your cunt—but again, he’s nasty – he’s dirty and your cunt made him even dirtier. toji made sure to thoroughly drag his tongue through every crevice, lapping up the wads of runny cum that was trying to glissade down your puffed pussy. he’s crazy, grabbing ahold of rickety unstable your hips with two bare hands. shaking his head side to side like a madman.
“toji… fuck, you’re s-so nasty,” you moan, fishing a hand through his rumpled overgrown tresses. toji groans once you give his hair a solid pull, yanking him forward. his entire face was stuffed against your pussy—and honestly, to him.. this wouldn’t be a bad way to go out.
death by pussy.
toji found it cute how you could never stay still, his tongue was that much, and you let off a sweet dragging yelp once the tip of his tongue greets itself against your pretty throbbing g-spot. “fuckkk!”
“nasty just for you, babygirl,” he hoarsely whispers against your folds. hitched hot breath waves into your entrance and you were already starting to arch toward. breathy, labored breaths of yours started to grow more ‘n more irregular as he continued eating you out. after every toe-curling movement from his tongue alone—toji moves even closer, lolling out the entirety of his long flat tongue to get an extra good enough taste. he was greedy.
verdant eyes meet yours as he creates a slow sloppy trail, starting at your fluttering hole allllll the way until he’s guiding his tongue to lick in between your slit. toji thinks it’s cute how you’re throbbing in his mouth – pulsating on his tastebuds the entire time—pulse after fuckin’ pulse. you let off a cute ‘ah!’ as you’re just shoving his head against your face and he snickers.
toji slurps you clean, creating such lewd noises from his mouth before meanly spanking your cunt, staring it dead in the entrance. “she’s my favorite girl, always” and he hums. “ ‘s funny though. she’s just like you,” and you whimper once his palm swats against your pudgy folds again, squelches getting louder. “she talks back exactly just like you, baby. wet with a smart mouth.”
your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest as you watch with glossy-doe eyes whilst toji plays between your legs. each convulsion gets stronger… and by now, you started to feel yourself short-circuiting. you were so tender, and toji loved more than anything to spank your cunt raw, kiss it, rub it—then spank it again. a feral cycle.
right then, that’s when he snakes two thick fingers inside of your cunt, watching his fingertips slowly disappear. soft shrilling moans drag from your vocal chords before he licks the remnants of his cum from your pussy before a breathy ‘heh’ fans against your clit. “god, she’s fuckin’ nasty today. no manners just like her pretty owner,” and toji pulls his fingers out, licking them before spanking your cunt again with a free hand. “oooh,” he jibes, pointed ears perking at the cute popping slosh. you’re so wet—so so wet and he only wanted more. as his hand continued to smack against your folds, a few droplets of your sheeny juices splat right near the corner of his mouth. a few millimeters away from his slashing scar near his lip. toji happily licks himself clean with his eager tongue, giving your pretty pussy another spank, and another, and a-fuckin’-nother. .
the room’s filled with nothing but loud spanks of his hand going against your cunt—you moan ‘n whimper everytime, the brief occasional sting from the palm of his hand leaving a sweet dirty taste in your mouth. at his next spank, toji hears you moan out a pretty ‘oooh’ of your own and he looks up at you.
“yeah, girl? like that one, huh? fuck, can’t tell who’s nastier,” and he spits on your cunt before lapping it up before it could dribble between your slit. “messy little girl. cute how y’r pussy’s tryna compete with you,” and as he spanking it for a while, toji maneuvers soft tenderly circles against your throbbing heat.
“my messy pussy. all mine.”
☆ NANAMI KENTO
it’s rare for nanami to get pussy drunk—but when he does, watch out. he’s a eater at heart, and the moment you tell him what to do, he’s get cunt drunk within a matter of seconds.
“sweetheart, the least you could do is let me see you while ‘m between your legs,” nanami would huff, and his eyes were completely covered by his tie. tied in a neatly loose knot, he’s buried between your legs, so so close to your sopping saturated cunt. he could practically smell you, and as he spoke it was a cute pout that decorated his thin pink lips. as his glossed lips inch closer, he brings your pulsating clit a chaste kiss. “you’re wetter than usual today,” he whispers, and you let off a moan as your head tilts back, clawing a hand through his mussed blond strands. nanami looks up, his vision still blocked—but it’s almost as he’s making direct eye contact with you. as his finger gingerly peels your soddened folds apart, his husky voice pitches deeper. “does me bein’ on my knees ‘n blindfolded turn you on—”
with a impatient sigh, you give nanami’s hair a harder tug. “kennn,” and he watches as you create a wider spreading ‘v’ of your legs, glistening folds spreading apart also. “talk too much. finish eating,” and then a sly smile pulls against your lips as your eyes glance down at his unoccupied hand. “spank it too. . while you’re at it,” and you pout. “pretty please?”
“spank it?” he repeats, nearly getting lost at the sheeny stream of slick that pours down your slavering entrance. your pussy was profusely weeping from top to bottom, and nanami brings a hand up, softly caressing your tender twitching muscle. “my, where’s this comin’ from? you know i wouldn’t wanna hurt you, princess.”
you let off yet another frustrated sigh, feeling your chest heave in and out as nanami’s lips brush up against your swollen clit. pretty, ruby lips of his were all damp—along with the lower part of his jaw that was starting to water all due to your sweetened juices freely cascading down his chin. “ ‘s not gonna hurt, kento,” you reassure him, your voice getting shakier once he goes back to delving his pointed tongue in ‘n out of your throbbing heat.
there’s a coquettish simper that twists near each sides of his lips before he uses a palm to pat your cunt. “yeah? you want me to spank you here, huh?” and you whimper, watching as he starts to swirl a plethora of shapes against your sobbing entrance with his palm. immediately, you coat his entire palm with your slick and he starts to lick against his hand. with a sudden smack, you gush right on his palm a little and you whine at the abrupt contact. “ooh, how was that, my love?”
“harder,” you moan, feeling the bottomless pits of your stomach flutter with butterflies once nanami’s ethereal caramel eyes lock against yours. you hadn’t even realized he pulled his dotted patterned tie up above his eyes, getting a pretty peek of you and your sweet greedy cunt. once he gave you that look with that sleazy lopsided grin, fuck you knew it.
nanami kento’s pussy drunk, and it makes you throb just knowing only you had the power to make him this way.
with a playful snicker, he shakes his head. “ah, ‘harder,’ she says,” he whispers, giving your pussy another spank. one turns into two . . then three, then four . . and eventually, the only sounds that fill the room is nanami’s wide palm swatting against your squelching sex. if you weren’t vocal, you definitely were between your legs because your cunt continued to spat sloshes and squelches from each direction hit from his hand. “my oh my~ she’s a bit of a chatter today, no?”
still with a pout painted across your lips, you let off a sweet needy whine. “ ‘ken, spit on it,” and his ears perk up at your carnal words. you leer down at him as the corners of his lips crease inward, showcasing his dimples and he hums. “please, spit on it kento. need it.”
“no, baby. you want, not need,” nanami corrects you, the frigid silvery band of his watch brushing up against your cunt. as the coolly air of the room fans against your twitching flaps, he gathers up a nice wad of saliva before spitting down on your plump pussy lips.
nanami stares at you the entire time—openly, relishing in your expressions and you’re shivering and pulsating at the same time. seconds later, he leans in to slowly lap up the stringy trail of his own saliva while maintaining direct eye contact with you the entire time. nanami lolls out his lengthy long tongue, curling it inside of you before he gives your tender nub a niiiice long suck. he slurps literally everything out of you, and now. . he’s starting to to spell his last name with the tip of his tongue.
n-a-n-a-m-i k-e-n-t-o and as he’s tracing each letter libidinously, you feel your own hips rock and writhe into his mouth at an unsteady pace. nanami’s growing stubble tickles against your pussy and you whimper.
after a while, he grabs ahold of your hips and his head starts to sashay back and forth. he’s fast, and he softens his voice, talking over your sweet wailing whines. “fuck, use my face, honey. ‘s okay, i don’t bite,” he purrs against your clit. but as he spoke, his soft fawn irises lock against yours before he hums, teasingly nipping his teeth against your sensitive pearled nub while giving you the most pussy-drunken grin you’ve ever seen.
“unless.. you’re into that too, sweetheart—me biting your clit, i mean.”
☆ CHOSO KAMO
with choso—he gets cunt drunk the second he gets a fresh view between your legs. so pretty, just seeing you spread eagle in front of him, teasing him with that playful look in his eyes, oh you were gonna be the death of him. but in this case—not you, but your pussy instead.
“come closer baby,” you quietly coo, watching how your boyfriend’s eyes bulged wider. you look so pretty, slouched back against his side of the bed with your legs spread. he gulps as he openly stares at your drooling cunt - weeping with honey slick that creates a trail of wet molasses. you were so soaked, and choso could tell you were playing with yourself while he was out. “chosoooo,” you hum, a smile marinating against your glossed lips as you could clearly see him nearly entranced by your spread out pussy. he barely blinks, and once he starts making his way between your legs, he lets out a soft whimper. “c’mere, give it a ‘lil kiss.”
“y- you sure?” he sheepishly says, the darkened scar that runs across the bridge of his nose creasing up. as choso brings his face between your thighs, his warm breath aerates down your slit. god, he couldn’t help but get a good whiff. you smelled so sweet—and he hasn’t seen you all day. instinctively, he runs a thumb down your sobbing cunt before feeling his lips twitch. “f- fuck, princess. were you playin’ with yourself earlier?”
in this case—you’d end up making choso an ever bigger freak than you. with an impish grin, you paw a hand through his oily raven strands before inhaling a deep breath.
“maybe jus’ a little,” and you moan once you feel his thin lips pucker, bringing your cunt a soft three second smooch. “yeah- uh huh, like that,” and as your voice starts to tremor, you give his hair a light tug. “choso, use your fingers a little. can you do that too?”
“mhm,” choso replied meekly, and you didn’t have to tell him twice. as your legs continued to sprawl themselves open, he gradually pops in a finger – immediately feeling you try to clamp down on him. choso lets off a soft airy breath, watching with big marveled eyes as your cunt’s so eager to suck in the single digit.
you squelch—then you squelch again, and you let off a moan once you feel him start to scissor his finger way past the tight ring of your gummy entrance. “s- so warm inside, baby,” he murmurs, and he can’t help but lean in, sliding his tongue against your twitching sex. “mmph,” you stare as his eyes flicker back for a moment, and you knew right away that it didn’t take long before he choso kamo was fatally pronounced entirely pussy drunk.
the moment his digit’s buried deep inside of your sopping cunt—he can’t help but add in another, and he’s moaning right with you.
choso was near the side of the bed and his hips took it amongst theirselves to start rocking against the wooden edge. “c- choso,” you mewl out, feeling an eerie stir swarm around the bottom pits of your stomach. his fingers were long, and he made sure to delve them in and out of you, coating each ‘n every inch with such slimy volumes of your sweet sap. “fuuuck, keep kissin’ it too, baby,” and as he continues to obediently follow your words, your legs begin to wrap around his neck. “fuck, fuck, don’t stop. ‘s good, good fuckin’ boy.”
“m’ your good boy,” he repeats, feeling a strain at his dick that sheaths under his jeans once he hears you. your praise—choso’s number one weakness. whenever you showered him with praises, or even degrade him a bit, he’d probably cum right through his pants. choso’s thick fingers plummet deeper until they twist around, maneuvering circular shapes to make you whimper out a desperate battle cry. you slump back, gasping before you feel your leg start to twitch. “ ‘s this okay, baby?”
with another whine running past your lips, you felt a sudden pressure gradually building up. its creeping—and the curvature of your mouth forms into a oval-like ‘o’ the second you feel him rubbing his nose against your cunt.
fuck… you were so close and choso made sure to study your body’s movements. “m’ gonna cum, ‘cho. fuck, right there, don’t stop, ngh,” and as your eyes squeeze shut, you watch him briefly pull out his slick-coated fingers. you’re panting heavily. harsh-heated breaths snatch from your lungs unapologetically, and as you’re laid back with your legs spread wide – you don’t even realized you had gushed right out… a pretty shimmering geyser that sprays out your overwhelmed pussy.
your orgasm was beautiful, and choso’s ears twitched at the melodic sound of you abruptly finishing. you ended up squirting, and it makes him moan knowing he did that. “so.. pretty,” he pouts, lapping up his wet chin with his tongue. you could feel your legs still violently shaking as you were trying to get over your teetering high, your grip in his hair loosening. “hah, good girl. did so good, a bit m- messy but good,” he cheekily jibes, raven eyes flickering up at you.
choso gives your sloppy cunt one more kiss before you moan, feeling him slither both thin fingers back in.
“more… do that again f’me,” and choso playfully nibbles at your clit, hearing your cute yelps from the tenderness. “wanna see you squirt again, and again, and again.”
☆ SUGURU GETO
you’d make him pussy drunk in the most random times — he’d be working out, and you’d be straddling him, bare ‘n all.
geto grunts, feeling your soft wet cunt just laid all out, sitting against his flexing sweaty abs. such carnal thoughts roam through his brain… imagining all types of things—like him being between your legs to start, eating you out like a starved man.
“h-heh.. now m’ startin’ to get why you love watchin’ me do my sets, sweetheart,” geto slyly purrs, raising a brow once he sees you straddling not his lap—but his chest. his perfectly chiseled chest with glistening trails of sweat tearing down his sculptured v-line.
it was true . . you indeed loved to watch geto whenever he worked out, but it always made you super aroused. how his hefty tense muscles would tightly tense at each pull of his dumbbells. how his veins in his forearms would bulge from each rough pull. but the moment you peeled your panties to the side, geto hooks a hand on your hip. “oh? is my girl feelin’ a bit nasty tonight?”
“suguuu,” a cooing whine slithers past your lips as you pout, your wet cunt sitting flat against the top chiseled row of his abs. they were so hard.. and it makes your legs clench together, feeling his chest heave in and out. he’d just gotten through a bunch of reps, but you couldn’t wait—and neither could the stream that’s starting to gloss between your stick thighs. “you’ve been workin’ out all day.”
geto darkly chuckles, brushing a thumb down your drenched pussy. “babe, it’s been three hours,” and as his hooded eyes trail down at your cracked open legs, he exhales deeply. “but. . with a pussy this pretty, i gotta give you some attention too, right?”
“mhm,” you breathe, and he groans once he feels your hands slither toward his pecs. they were so big — and they glistened with sweat, beads racing down every corner. geto leans back, bringing both bulgy arms to rest behind his head as a coy grin plastered across his face. you couldn’t wait any longer, and that’s right when you started to move your sopping cunt against his rock hard abs. your hips moved slowly, and you were going back and forth, up and down . .
“fuck, look at you,” he whispers in a raspy hum, trailing a bare hand toward your the cute curving slope of your ass. geto gruffly groans, feeling his dick twitch in his black tight compression shorts. his noticeable bulge vigorously throbs and aches beneath the cottony fabric and you grinding your sweet cunt against his chest wasn’t exactly helping. geto’s sinister-dark eyes remain fixated on you the entire time, flickering towards your cunt from time to time—and within a blink of an eye, he swats a hand against your ass. “faster baby, don’t slow down now. ride ‘em good. make my fuckin’ abs just as dirty ‘n messy as you, yeah? use that pretty pussy. all for me.”
you start to pant - sharply, and as your eyes meet his, and oh, was he was feral. geto can’t help but strum a few fingers down your clit, bringing his fingers back up toward his lips for a shameless taste. as soon as he got a single taste of you, he was done for.
“sugu, m’ gonna cum,” you whimper, feeling your back starting to arch to a certain degree. slender fingers of yours rummage through his strands, tickling near his scalp before giving it a firm tug. geto groans, and you’re still jerking your cunt against his abs. it’s a lewd snail-trailing slope. you made sure to coat half if not all of his abdomen with your honeyed slick. “suguru, hng. gonna c- oh fuuuck!”
“c’mon then, make a mess. be my messy baby,” he whispers, his tone getting more and more huskier. each word he spoke in such a filthy sultry manner makes your pussy twitches. geto brings a hand down between your legs, ghosting a swollen fat thumb down your needy clit. throb after throb, you were getting closer toward your teetering edge—so much so to where you could almost taste it without actually tasting it. it was becoming inevitable, and right when you end up cumming, you let off the cutest seven-second mewl.
your jaw stupidly hangs open as you end up finishing against his core ripped stomach—geto flexes his pecs underneath you and he huffs. “fuck, good girl,” and as you’re creaming on a row of his washboard abs, geto combs a hand through his hair. your cunt pulses against his skin and he hisses out a breathy needy ‘fuck.’ glancing down with low hooded eyes, he sees your clit dilating. so cute, you were convulsing right on top of him and your hips fatally come to a crashing stop. breath after breath leaves from your lungs as you’re a mess, watching his glossy his entire lower chest glisten with your own arousal to blame. “god, made such a mess on me,” and geto reaches in his boxers as you straddle him, phewing at how hot you looked on top of him.
but right as he sits up, you lightly push him back against his cushiony weight bench, hearing him land with a gruff ‘ugh.’ you pout, dragging a finger down his sharp sculptured v-line before stopping at his black faded happy trail. “s- suguru, let me lick it off you too.”
“atta giiirl,” he croons, giving your ass once final spank. geto leans back, his eyes following you as you lean your head down, still quietly whimpering from your recent release. geto groans, giving your hair a ruffle before sighing. once your tongue starts to trail its way down his sheeny slick abs, he sucks in a breath. “fuck, lick everywhere sweetheart. don’t miss a—hah, don’t miss a drop, fuck.”
☆ SUKUNA RYŌMEN
“tch. what’s with . . the weird look, woman,” sukuna would pant, and he’s heavily out of breath. he sits back on his throne and oh, he’s flushed. you rode him to a point where he’s nearly speechless for a few seconds. you straddle on top of him with his cock stilled inside of you, feeling all various arms of his wrap around your waist. a pink slit brow furrows before he sighs. “quit looking impish, it’s.. irritating.”
“ ‘kuna,” you remain still, nearly slipping at a moan once you feel his flaccid cock rest between your folds. he’s stretching you out so good as shaky, rickety thighs of yours ached and burned. every vein within your body. he sucks in a breath once your hands feel down his bare, exposed chest. sukuna’s wearing nothing but a kimono on, it’s slit open and you felt all down his body. he’s warm, way warmer than usual and as you continue to touch the curse’s skin, you stop at his oversized pecs. “mhm.” sukuna’s got such a wide chest—but you weren’t so much focused on that, you were focused on his nipples.
his pink, perked nipples that you knew were always so sensitive. he told you about it . . once, and never again because it was well, embarrassing. even air brushing against his skin makes him shiver, including with causing his nipples to shamefully twitch. “can i suck on ‘em again?”
“suck on—oh..” his gruff voice trails, and you can see a splash of bashfulness paint his pale face like a canvas. sukuna ryomen’s embarrassed.. and oh how he wished he could wipe the smug smirk off your face. sukuna scoffs, but it doesn’t take long before he finally caves in. “fine, get it over with.”
your smile never falters, and as he’s still idly buried deeply inside your cunt with such salaciously thick inches, you bring your lips toward his pecs. sukuna inhales deeply, mentally preparing himself before fuck, you cup your lips around his right nipple. “hah, such a weird one you are,” he breathlessly groans, an arm gently clasping under your head to support it. your eyes close, and you suck on it—until he lets off another raspy groan. sukuna’s dick twitches and he’s so tender, so . . . sensitive.
the demon scrapes a few claws down his meaty thigh as your tongue lies itself flat against his perked nipples. “mhm,” your lashes flutter close, and at that exact moment, you start to ride him again. it was sudden, his eyes widen before he lets off a needy husky moan, squeezing a portion of your ass tightly before his crimson eyes roll back. he’s pussy drunk – entirely, especially since he was still trying to get over his most recent orgasmic orgasm. sukuna tried to keep up his façade, but with a cunt as hypnotic as yours, he might as well be buried six feet fuckin’ under. a vein twitches on his cock and its sporadic pulses make you pulse.
he’s just big inside, easily rearranging your insides without even having to move an inch. his lazy downward curve of his dick made you drool—sukuna reached far inside of your pussy, never forgetting to bruise and kiss against your sweet beloved g-spot. “ ‘kunaaa,” you repeat his name, and he could feel his entire body heat the more you whisper his title through those pretty glossed lips. as you briefly depart your lips from his nipples with a loud ‘pop!’ sound echoing through his eerie domain, strings of saliva detaching from your mouth. “hah, can you lactate?”
“you did not just ask me that,” the curse angrily pouts, and you feel his pecs tense. sukuna remains sat on his throne before scoffing. “you humans and your weird fantasizes. no, i don’t lacta—”
“wouldn’t hurt to try,” you titter, and he groans the second your mouth goes back to sucking against his tender skin like a leech. so good, a fang of his pokes beneath his lip as his mouth hands open. you’ve got him right where you wanted him. sukuna grunts from the sensitivity and you thought he was gonna push you away, but instead—he does the opposite. sukuna pulls you closer with one arm, digging his sharp keen fangs into his bottom pulled out lip to suppress his incoming whimpers.
your tongue swirls it way around his nipples, making sure to wet everywhere—he groans, sucking in individual sharp breaths before he feels his cock tightening. fuck, he felt something approaching quickly. his reaction time was devastatingly slow and his look of cockiness suddenly forms into . . neediness.
“ugh, such a nasty girl. but shit— don’t stop,” he snarls, one of his feet thumping against his regal glass floor. he’s chewing on salty anticipation and it’s never tasted sweeter. sukuna’s dick that stills itself inside of you aches for more, and as he watches as your own saliva lewdly race down the corners of your lips, he grumbles. “have some c- class, woman.”
oh, you’re making him stutter now.. and it’s cute— sukuna ryomen was flustered, and he’s so lost in his brief fantasm that he doesn’t even realize he’s cumming inside of you yet again. but at the same time, he starts leaking from his pecs. there’s a sweet taste that trickles on the flatness of your tongue as you hum. at the same time, a raw hot load pours into your womb deeply and he lets out a growl that echoes ‘n resounds through the soundproof walls of his domain. “fuck,” he hisses, veins prodding all through his thick neck. your cunt wholly accepts every drop, and you teasingly grind against him as your pussy flutters around him. then it dawned on him, sukuna came… just from you sucking on his nipples. you were about to say something as you try to get up, but he pushes you right back into sucking on his pecs, wrapping an arm around you.
“y’er .. a fuckin’ weirdo,” sukuna grumbled, still shuddering from his intense release. sukuna felt both of his nipples grow hot, and he’s shaking as he’s never felt more sensitive. velvety ropes shoot into you rawly and he huffs, lazily slouching all the way back on his throne.
“so you can lacta—”
“shut up, woman,” he snaps at you, but you can hear the cute shiver in his voice. sukuna’s eyes were droopy and he’s still heavily panting, moaning as you suck on his tender nipples. as you start to move your hips again, relishing the candied taste in your mouth—he’s still dumping hefty amounts of sweltering hot cum until it dribbles past your thighs. you’re overflowed, you’re overflowed and he’s undeniably pussy drunk.
“but… phew, didn’t say you could stop. do it again,” and sukuna’s vermillion-bloodshot eyes narrow at your smug grin before he curses under his breath, eyes rolling back eyes again,
Featuring G1! Shrapnel, Bombshell and Kickback, smut/fluff/humor, CW: stretch marks fetish too(?), insect courting (goes with the mech I guess?), oral (receiving), the Insecticons do it like insects and you rock their world moving, Bombshell is into gore (caution).
Most wildlife on Earth are optic catching, sometimes colorful or dull, they have come to realize it is sometimes due to the species and the regulations of their environment or to attract a mate.
They've been on Earth for so long, they've seen it all and eat it all, stripes and dots, wings and long legs, Kickback can't stop to compare those with the ones of his alt-mode, but also notices the lack of other patterns, he likes the stripes, for example, the way they look pretty and he has seen insects with them, shiny colors as they follow a possible mate around, flying and showing themselves to prove worthy of continuing their primitive organic coding.
He felt jealous, he won't lie about it, looking at the two things canoodling, immersed in their world, interfacing could be good, but Shrapnel is mean, he likes to zap him, and Bombshell would pluck out his wings in his version of foreplay.
So when he finds you he can hardly stop his antenna and wings from picking up at the sight of you. Suddenly understanding the reason cicadas sing at dusk, and male mantis let their female eat their head, his alt-mode may be a grass jumper, but his song makes your hands hold your little audials in distress, he promises to practice more when Shrapnel tells him to shut up. He should tell them, they are his partners, but he is also sure Shrapnel will try to steal you away, Bombshell, Primus no, he could cut you open to see how you worked from the inside.
Too much risk, it was better to see you on the outskirts of their hideout, where they wouldn't see you, and to get you away from any other Decepticon, oh, but if Autobots dared to see you he was promising to snap their helms from their frames, such is the insecticon’s way.
Not much progress was made, and Kickback understood, that maybe you only mate in certain seasons or had to eat something nourishing, it was fine, he was good with holding your tiny hands, letting you sleep above his chassis, and even changing colors slightly, one day, after your session of sunbathing, he noticed.
Could have been the warm season, could have been the necessity to show off, but his optics centered over your exposed skin so much that his visor was glowing, how could you blame him? He just saw something he never expected to see in you.
Something that he never knew would make his spark bloom with excess energy.
“Kicky, dim off the lights I can't see”
You had stripes, pretty ones at that, of a slightly different color than the rest of your skin, his spark started to cycle along his biolights, and you smiled while asking a happy “What?” when his servos and digits started to roam over the different textures on your stripes, “stop it” There was no ounce of malice as you pushed him away by his helm, his sharp denta gripped at your wrist in a playful nip.
Maybe you were entering your mating season, or not, as you just continued to sunbathe above him, not minding where his servos roamed over more exposed skin as days passed by and the heat started to rise, more stripes started to appear, Kickback counted them as a way to pass the time, solar panels doing their work as you indulged in a collection of sheets done with plants, it was another day basking in your presence.
Until he felt the change of static in the area, a single designation popping on his processor as he tried to rush you out of their territory.
Shrapnel found out about you, most likely with Bombshell tailing behind him.
It was no surprise when his fits of protection did nothing more than give him a beating as you tried to get away as soon as possible, his leader reminding him of the no humans rule, to think with his tank was one thing that Shrapnel understood, but to think to mingle with a human was another different, still, that didn't stop Kickback to try and explain his case with the obvious interest from Bombshell.
Things were laid out clearly and strictly, no biting, no killing, no dismembering, “I’m serious, Bomb”, and if you said no, Kickback was sure to protect you even if he was the youngest, assuring you to come back, his partners wouldn't do you any harm, what's more, they would like you and you, them, little by little.
But Shrapnel wanted to try, showing off his alt-mode just as Bombshell did the same, “Are not all organics attracted to these displays?”, turns out, you don't, and it was agonizing, “How can you look at my frame and feel nothing but lustful desire?”
Unsaid rejection became common, but also did the scratches, and the collective sunbathing, sooner than later Shrapnel wasn't so opposed to the idea of you near and even eating with them, fruits were reserved for your consumption once you showed up, Bombshell stopped looking at you strangely and in change started to be attracted to your stripes in the same way Kickback did, just that his servo stopped from being pulled way sooner than later.
When or how you finally caught your place in their hierarchy was a mystery, as one day you came back as always, the sun was bright and the wetness promised rusty plating and achy joints, Bombshell was in his usual sunbathing spot when you plopped next to him and kissed a side of his helm.
Kickback was thrilled to finally see an accepting gesture on your part, Shrapnel was mad for not being the first.
But you let him be first, expecting on the ground over towels and blankets you didn't want to ask their origin, his servos roamed over your body, and a bolt of electricity was evident before his digit pressed over your ribs, Bombshell hissed in warning, earning a growl from Shrapnel, attempting to calm himself, but he couldn't while watching your face so close, when he rolled you over your first thought was that he liked this position.
Nothing could have prepared you when he penetrated, pumping greedily as his arms hugged you to him, pressing you a little to the front, ass up, chattering as he always does, “so nice and full, such great Earthling, earthling”, Shrapnel mouthed over your neck once he finally slammed home.
He didn't move for a while, and it made Kickback retain a whimper, imagining for himself how nice it would be to lay his transfluid inside your body, did you have a forge? If you did and it was active, then all their problems about being outnumbered would be gone.
But humans work differently from insects, “huh, who could've thought”, Shrapnel said after he growled over your squirming body, trying to keep you close and immovable as he mounted you from behind, finally letting go of the stiffness as you, the innovative, delightful creature that you are, started rocking your hips against him, earning a different kind of growl, words chocked on his glossa as he began to move too, “Wait, Earthling, wait, wait” feeling all the crevices inside, your innermost flesh pushing and turning over his nodes just right as he was a mess, sprawled over your rear, holding to you, dripping noises could be heard, Bombshell only watched, calculative as always, apparently impressed by the way Shrapnel seemed so lost in you, eagerly waiting for his turn, Kickback wasn't so lucky, last in the hierarchy meant last to be served, he was soon to reach a newfound limit while watching you pursuit release, moving and working hard for it, ready to overload as your face showed nothing but pleasure once Shrapnel started to move too.
His painful and hot array was noticed by Bombshell, but he only watched for a second before returning his optics to his leader and you, whimpering almost in silence as your face contorted in full bliss as Shrapnel dumped loads inside you.
It was messy, the way Shrapnel’s spike was drenched by transfluid and whatever your body secreted was nauseating but also made them go and clean both with purring content, Kickback was soon to start cleaning his leader but Bombshell stopped him, servo over his midsection and throwing him next to your trembling body, “go first” is all he said while tending to his leader, who almost overloads again, Kickback didn't have to be told twice before holding your hips with his servos, massaging over the stripes on your rear and the beginning of your leg struts, purring so hard at the surprised sound you made once the clarity came back to your foggy mind, just to find him grinning like a maniac between your legs, showing off sharp fangs, dermas soon touching over your array panel, or lack thereof, glossa soon following, cleaning transfluid that has already dripped away and pushed what he can save inside once again, content at the sound you make as he frags you with his glossa and the way your hips can hardly move, held back by his servos as he has dropped to the floor, kneeling to let you have some leverage, your hands come to his helm, trying to rut against his faceplate, his chuckle makes you moan by how it vibrates to your tender flesh, “told you they would like you”.
.
The G1 Insecticons always was a soft spot for me, I like their madness and whole destructive factor, but there is little of them in the series or the fandom, praying this little work gets people more worked up on them because damn, they're so fine.
Watching/reading any transformers media makes me believe that I should be there, smooching Cybertronians. But instead I’m stuck here, on this shit ass version of earth with chronic pain and unmedicated ADHD
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Your voice, so sweet and tender, rings through your apartment as he finishes putting your bookshelf together, “Good job, Nero!”
Such a simple statement, yet his cheeks are flushed as though you’d walked across the room and grabbed his ass. He rubs the back of his neck in an attempt to hide his shyness with boyishness.
“It’s nothin’ really,” he shirks off the praise.
“Awh, I didn’t know you were so easily flustered,” you tease him when you notice the color on his cheeks. With a click of the tongue, he turns away from you and busies himself with cleaning up the packaging. He’s shaving plastic wrapping into the box, muttering under his breath that he needs to get his shit together.
“Want me to take this to the dumpster on my way out?” he asks.
“That would be great!” You smile and before he knows it he can feel your breath on his neck. “You’re so sweet. My hero,” you coo.
His pants feel just a bit tighter, and he hopes you can’t see the way he’s squeezing his eyes shut to try to once again ‘get his shit together.’
“Cut it out,” he scoffs.
“Cut what out?” You wrap your arms around him from behind, hugging him close and resting your head on his back. “Can’t I tell my boyfriend how cute and adorable and sweet he is?”
“N-no, I don’t need to hear all that,” he shivers.
You fake pout as your hand moves down his toned tummy then underneath his shirt. Your fingertips brush through the snowy white hair leading into his pants. He groans softly at the feeling.
“But you’re so perfect,” you giggle and nip at his neck. “Such a good boy.”
Just hearing those two words make him weak in the knees. You shove your hand down his pants and palm at his cock.
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