欲望

thanks to my 4k baddies

[fayelero]

MOONEE MOONEE MOONEE MOONEE 𓏲ּ𝄢

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋moonee ᵎᵎ 20 ᵎᵎ french ᵎᵎ english’s not my first language, be indulgent ᵎᵎ .⋆♱⃓ toji’s sweetheart , choso’s wife , gojo’s favourite & megumi’s babe ! side acc @fayefavz -> looking for mootz

゛ ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆ below 18? DO NOT INTERACT ⌗ explicit content ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

COOL ENOUGH FOR YA ?

༒︎ the dealer ༒︎ guidelines ༒︎ the stuff ༒︎

[fayelero]

♯ ⋮ 𝄞 gojo’s angry dih ༉ .ᐟ ★

⋮ ⌗ ┆mdni. p in v, degradation !

The argument started over something stupid—really, embarrassingly stupid.

You’d been teasing Gojo all day about his blindfold again, calling it his “dumb little security blanket” after he’d shown up late to your date because he’d been “training” (which you both knew meant napping in the sun like a spoiled cat). He’d fired back with that signature smug grin, saying you were just jealous he looked better in white than you did. One thing led to another, voices rising in your shared apartment, until you were both yelling about who left the dishes in the sink for the third time this week and whose turn it was to do laundry.

It was dumb. Childish. But Gojo’s ego was a fragile, towering thing, and you weren’t backing down either.

“You always do this!” you snapped, arms crossed tight over your chest. “Act like the strongest, like nothing can touch you, but god forbid I point out you’re a slob sometimes—”

Gojo’s eyes narrowed behind the blindfold, that bright blue gaze you could feel burning even when hidden. He stepped closer, tall frame looming, the air around him crackling with cursed energy he wasn’t even bothering to hide. “And you always push,” he said, voice low and dangerous, that playful menace slipping into something sharper. “Thinking you can mouth off to me like I won’t do anything about it.”

The tension snapped.

One second you were glaring at each other across the living room. The next, Gojo had you pinned against the wall, his large hand wrapped around your throat—not squeezing, not yet, just holding you there while his other hand yanked your shirt up roughly. His mouth crashed into yours, all teeth and dominance, biting your lower lip hard enough to make you gasp.

“You wanna keep running that pretty mouth?” he growled against your lips, voice laced with that signature Gojo arrogance even when he was pissed. “Fine. I’ll fuck the attitude right out of you.”

You tried to shove at his chest—half-hearted, because heat was already pooling low in your belly—but he caught your wrists in one hand and slammed them above your head. The blindfold was still on, but you could see the feral tilt of his smirk. Menace radiated off him like static before a storm.

He didn’t bother with gentleness. Gojo ripped your shorts and panties down in one harsh tug, the fabric tearing slightly at the seam. You barely had time to kick them off before his fingers were between your legs, two long digits shoving inside you without warning. You were already wet—traitor body—but the sudden stretch made you cry out.

“Already soaked,” he mocked, curling his fingers deep and mean, scissoring them roughly. “Fighting with me gets you this worked up? Pathetic.”

“Fuck you,” you hissed, but it came out breathy, shaky.

His laugh was dark. “Oh, you will.”

He spun you around suddenly, pressing your chest against the wall, your cheek smushed to the cool surface. You heard the metallic clink of his belt, the rustle of his pants being shoved down just enough. His cock—hot, heavy, and already leaking—slapped against your ass before he lined up and thrust in to the hilt in one brutal stroke.

You screamed, the sound raw as he split you open. No warmup. No mercy. Just the thick, veiny length of him buried so deep your toes curled and your vision whited out for a second.

“Shit—Satoru—!”

“Too much?” he taunted, pulling out almost all the way only to slam back in harder. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed obscenely. “You can take it. You always do. This pussy was made for me to ruin.”

He set a punishing pace immediately, hips snapping forward with enough force to jolt your whole body against the wall. Each thrust was angry, possessive, the head of his cock battering that spongy spot inside you that made your knees buckle. His hand stayed locked around your wrists, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise.

You could feel every inch of him—thick, hot, dragging along your walls with vicious precision. He angled his hips to hit deeper, grinding against your cervix on every inward stroke until tears pricked your eyes.

“Say it,” he snarled, teeth scraping down the side of your neck before he bit down hard. “Tell me you’re sorry for being a brat.”

You bit your lip, stubborn even as pleasure ripped through you. “N-no—”

Gojo’s hand cracked across your ass, the sharp smack making you clench around him. He groaned, low and guttural. “Wrong answer.”

He pulled out suddenly, making you whimper at the empty feeling, only to manhandle you onto the couch. He bent you over the armrest, ass up, face down. Then he was back inside you before you could catch your breath, fucking you even harder. The new angle let him reach impossibly deeper. His balls slapped against your clit with every thrust, the wet sounds filthy and loud.

Your brain started melting.

Gojo was relentless—long, powerful strokes that left you gasping and drooling onto the cushions. He reached around to rub harsh circles on your clit, fingers slick with your juices.

“Look at you,” he laughed, voice rough with exertion and lust. “Getting all dumb on my cock already. Where’s that big mouth now, huh?”

You could only moan, high and broken, pushing back against him desperately. The anger was still there, fueling every brutal snap of his hips, but it mixed with something darker—pure, unfiltered need. He was claiming you, reminding you exactly who you belonged to.

He leaned over you, chest pressed to your back, his white hair tickling your shoulder as he whispered hotly in your ear. “You’re mine. Say it.”

“Yours—fuck, Satoru, I’m yours—”

“Not good enough.” He slowed his thrusts to deep, punishing grinds, rolling his hips in circles that made you see stars. “Apologize properly.”

Your mind was fogging over, thoughts scattering with every drag of his cock. The pleasure was overwhelming, bordering on too much. You were clenching around him rhythmically, thighs shaking, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered, voice cracking. “I’m sorry, Satoru—please—”

“Please what?” He bit your shoulder, sucking a dark mark into your skin.

“Please… fuck me harder. I’m sorry for being a brat. I won’t—ahh—I won’t talk back again—”

Gojo’s control snapped further. He straightened up, grabbed both your hips, and railed you like he was trying to break you. The couch creaked dangerously under the force. You were sobbing now, pleasure so intense it hurt, your pussy fluttering wildly around his thick length.

“That’s it,” he growled, voice strained. “Get dumb for me. Cream on my cock like the needy little slut you are.”

You came hard—shattering, vision going black at the edges, a gush of wetness soaking his cock and dripping down your thighs. Your walls spasmed violently, milking him, but he didn’t stop. He fucked you through it, prolonging the orgasm until you were shaking and oversensitive.

Only then did he pull out, flip you onto your back on the couch, and push your legs up to your chest. He slid back in with a wet squelch, the new position letting him watch your face as he destroyed you.

His eyes—blindfold long discarded—were glowing that electric blue, pupils blown wide with lust and lingering anger. Sweat glistened on his perfect abs, his hair a mess. He looked feral. Menacing. Beautiful.

“You gonna cum again?” he demanded, thumb pressing on your swollen clit. “Gonna soak me while you apologize like a good girl?”

You nodded frantically, already climbing toward another peak. “Sorry—sorry, Satoru—I’m so sorry—please don’t stop—”

He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a messy, dominating kiss. His tongue fucked into your mouth in time with his cock, swallowing every moan and whimper.

You came again, harder this time, screaming into his mouth. The intensity made your whole body seize up. Gojo groaned, hips stuttering as your pussy clamped down on him like a vice.

“Fuck—good girl,” he rasped, finally letting himself go. He buried himself to the hilt and came deep inside you, thick ropes of cum flooding your insides, so much it leaked out around his cock as he kept shallowly thrusting through his orgasm.

For a long moment, the only sounds were your ragged breathing and the wet drip of his release onto the couch.

Gojo stayed buried inside you, forehead pressed to yours, his anger finally ebbing into something softer—but still edged with that possessive menace.

“You’re still mine,” he murmured, voice low. “Even when you piss me off.”

You nodded weakly, brain fuzzy and body limp. “Yours… I’m sorry, baby.”

He kissed you slower this time, almost tender, though his hips gave one last lazy grind that made you whimper.

“Damn right you are.” A wicked smirk curved his lips. “And we’re not done. I’ve got all night to make sure that apology really sinks in.”

He scooped you up effortlessly, still impaled on his cock, and carried you toward the bedroom. The argument was long forgotten. All that mattered now was the way he planned to wreck you until the only word you could remember was his name.

[fayelero]

♯ ⋮ 𝄞 older guys this, older guys that— MEGUMI ༉ .ᐟ ★

⋮ ⌗ ┆mdni. p in v, prn w/o plot, younger!megumi !

You’ve always had a type: older guys. The ones with steady careers, calloused hands from real work, deep voices that rumbled with confidence, and the patience to tease you for hours before giving you what you wanted. They knew how to take control, how to make you feel small and desired in that safe, predictable way. Older guys didn’t fumble. They didn’t rush. They fucked like they had all the time in the world because they’d already lived enough of it.

But Megumi Fushiguro was the opposite of that type in every way that mattered.

He was younger than the men you usually chased—early twenties, sharp-featured, quiet, and intense in that brooding, shadows-under-his-eyes kind of way. You met him through mutual friends in the city, some late-night gathering after a long week. He didn’t say much at first. Just watched you from across the room with those dark blue eyes that seemed to catalog every movement you made. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost hesitant, but there was something underneath it. Something hungry.

You brushed it off. Cute kid, you thought. Not your usual.

But he kept showing up in your orbit. Texts at odd hours. “Are you free?” Always polite, always direct. You told yourself it was harmless flirting. Until one night you let him come over.

The door barely clicked shut behind him before Megumi was on you.

His hands—strong, veined from years of training—grabbed your waist and pulled you flush against him. No preamble. No awkward small talk. Just his mouth crashing into yours like he’d been starving for it. His tongue pushed past your lips immediately, deep and demanding, tasting you like he wanted to devour every sound you made. You gasped into the kiss, surprised by the force behind it. This wasn’t the shy boy from the party. This was someone who had been holding back for weeks.

“Been thinking about you,” he muttered against your mouth, voice rough. “Every fucking night.”

You tried to take control, pushing him back toward the couch like you did with older men who liked being guided. But Megumi didn’t budge. Instead, he spun you around and pressed you against the wall, his body pinning yours with surprising strength. His hips rolled forward, letting you feel how hard he already was through his pants—thick, hot, insistent.

“You always go for older guys, right?” he breathed against your neck, teeth grazing your skin. “I know. I heard you talking about it. But they don’t know you like I do. They can’t.”

His hand slid up your shirt, palming your breast roughly, thumb flicking over your nipple until it hardened. You arched into him, a sharp moan escaping. He was so eager, so completely focused on you. Like you were the only thing in his world. His other hand dipped between your thighs, rubbing you through your pants with firm, practiced strokes that made your knees buckle.

“Megumi—fuck—”

He didn’t let you finish. He dropped to his knees right there in the hallway, yanking your pants and panties down in one rough motion. No teasing. No slow build. His mouth was on your pussy instantly, tongue dragging through your folds like he was desperate for your taste. He groaned loudly against you, the vibration shooting straight to your core.

“Shit, you’re so wet already,” he mumbled, sucking your clit into his mouth. Two fingers pushed inside you without warning, curling hard against that spot that made your vision blur. He fucked you with them fast, relentless, his tongue flicking in perfect rhythm. You grabbed his hair, hips bucking against his face, but he only pressed harder, devouring you like a man possessed.

You came embarrassingly fast—shaking, thighs clamping around his head, a broken cry tearing from your throat. But Megumi didn’t stop. He kept licking you through it, fingers pumping slower but deeper, drawing out every aftershock until you were whimpering.

When he finally stood, his chin was slick with you. His eyes were wild, pupils blown wide. He looked almost feral.

“Bedroom,” he growled.

He didn’t wait for you to lead. He lifted you like you weighed nothing, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you down the hall. His cock pressed against your bare pussy with every step, the friction making you grind against him shamelessly.

In your room, he dropped you on the bed and stripped quickly. His body was lean but cut—defined abs, strong arms, and a cock that made your mouth water. Long, thick, flushed dark at the tip and already leaking precum. He stroked himself once, eyes locked on you as you spread your legs for him.

“You’re mine tonight,” he said, crawling over you. “Not some old guy who doesn’t even know how to make you scream.”

He pushed inside you in one deep thrust, bottoming out so hard your back arched off the bed. The stretch burned in the best way—full, overwhelming. Megumi’s head fell to your shoulder with a guttural moan, hips stuttering like he was fighting not to cum immediately.

“Fuck… so tight. So perfect.”

Then he started moving.

There was nothing slow or measured about it. Megumi fucked you like he’d been waiting his entire life for this moment. Hard, fast snaps of his hips that slammed the headboard against the wall. Every thrust dragged against your g-spot, making you see stars. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you wider as he drove deeper, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room.

“Look at me,” he demanded, voice strained. You did. His face was flushed, sweat beading on his forehead, dark hair sticking to his skin. Those intense eyes never left yours as he fucked you senseless.

“You feel that?” he panted, grinding deep, rolling his hips so his pelvis rubbed your clit. “That’s what a younger guy who’s obsessed with you can do. I’ve jerked off thinking about this pussy every night. Imagined how you’d sound when I filled you up.”

You moaned loudly, nails raking down his back. He hissed in pleasure, pace somehow increasing. The bed creaked dangerously. He leaned down, sucking marks into your neck, your breasts, biting down on your nipple until you cried out.

“Megumi—oh god, slower—”

“No.” He thrust harder, punishing. “You’re going to take everything I give you. I’m not like them. I don’t get tired. I can fuck you for hours.”

And he did.

He flipped you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up and slamming back in from behind. The new angle made him hit even deeper. One hand fisted your hair, the other rubbed your clit in tight circles. You came again, clenching around his cock so hard he groaned your name like a prayer.

But he kept going.

He pulled out only to flip you again, this time sitting back against the headboard and dragging you onto his lap. You sank down on his cock, taking every inch as he guided your hips. His hands gripped your ass, helping you ride him—fast, sloppy, desperate.

“Ride me,” he growled against your mouth. “Use me. I want to feel you cum all over my cock again.”

You did, bouncing on him, breasts pressed to his chest. His mouth latched onto your neck, sucking hard enough to leave bruises. Every time you slowed, he thrust up to meet you, driving himself impossibly deeper. His stamina was insane—sweat-slick, breathing ragged, but his hips never faltered.

“Gonna cum inside you,” he warned, voice breaking. “Been dying to fill this pussy up. Tell me you want it.”

“I want it—fuck, Megumi, please—”

He slammed up into you one final time, burying himself to the hilt as he came with a deep, broken moan. You felt every pulse, hot and thick, flooding you. The sensation pushed you over the edge again, your orgasm crashing through you so intensely your vision whited out.

But even after he came, he didn’t stop moving. Shallow, lazy thrusts, pushing his cum deeper as he kissed you slow and filthy.

“You’re not done yet,” he whispered, flipping you onto your back again. His cock was still hard. Still ready. “I told you. I’m better than those grandpas.”

He ate you out again, licking his own cum from your pussy while fingering you, then fucked you slow and deep on your side, one leg hooked over his hip. Then against the wall, your legs wrapped around him as he held you up like it was nothing. Then on the floor when your legs gave out.

Hours passed. He came three more times—once down your throat when you sucked him off between rounds, once across your tits, and finally deep inside you again while you rode him reverse cowgirl, his hands spreading your ass so he could watch himself disappear into you.

By the time the sun started creeping through the curtains, you were a wrecked, trembling mess. Covered in marks, thighs sticky with cum, voice hoarse from screaming his name. Megumi lay beside you, still tracing lazy circles on your oversensitive clit, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder.

“Older guys, huh?” he murmured, a rare, satisfied smirk on his lips. “Tell me again how they compare.”

You couldn’t. Because nothing had ever come close to this—raw, obsessive, endless energy that left you completely ruined and craving more.

Megumi Fushiguro wasn’t your type.

But fuck… he was exactly what you needed.

[fayelero]

hey baddies 💋

just a little heads up… i’m gonna be very very less active for a while. i just finished jjk s3 part 1 and now i’m in that weird empty phase where my brain just refuses to create anything unless i’m fully in my jjk era 😭

idk if that makes sense but like… my inspiration really comes in waves depending on what i’m obsessed with at the moment, and right now it’s kinda… buffering. so writing feels forced and i don’t wanna give you something that doesn’t hit the same.

also, to be honest, i’ve been getting some hate lately, and it kinda killed my motivation to write jjk… it made me want to step back from it for a bit.

BUT i’ll probably start watching other animes soon, so who knows… new obsessions = new fanfictions 👀

thank you for staying with me even when i disappear a bit, i love you guys more than you think 🖤

[fayelero]

BRAT TAME...REVERSAL ?

-> not your fault if your partner was a real brat...

ft. gojo, toji, geto, choso, sukuna.

cw. mdni. established relationship, unprotected sex, edging, sub!geto, sub!choso, sub!gojo, creampie, praise, degradation, cow girl.

GOJO SATORU

Gojo Satoru had been an absolute menace tonight.

He’d pinned you down like you weighed nothing, that infuriatingly pretty face smirking the whole time while he fucked you stupid—long, merciless strokes that kissed your cervix with every brutal snap of his hips. He’d laughed when you cried out, called you his pretty little cumdump, edged you twice just to watch you sob and claw at his back. Mean. So fucking mean.

But now the tables were turning.

You waited for the exact second his smug guard dropped—right after he pulled out with a wet pop, cock glistening with your cream, chest heaving like he’d won. Before he could flip you over again, you surged up, shoved both hands against his broad chest and slammed him flat onto his back. The king-sized bed bounced under his weight.

“Wha—hey—!” Gojo’s bright blue eyes widened, that cocky grin flickering for the first time all night.

You didn’t give him time to recover. You swung a leg over his narrow waist, planted your palms on those rock-hard abs, and sank down onto his throbbing cock in one slick, greedy motion.

“Fuuuuck—!” Gojo’s head snapped back into the pillows, snowy white lashes fluttering as your tight, soaked pussy swallowed every thick inch of him. He was big—stupidly big—and the stretch burned so good it made your thighs tremble. But you didn’t stop. You rolled your hips forward, grinding your clit against his pelvis, taking him to the hilt until his heavy balls pressed against your ass.

“Shit—baby—slow down, I just—ngh!” His hands flew to your waist, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, trying to force you into the rhythm he wanted.

You slapped his hands away. “No.” Your voice came out low, dangerous, nothing like the whimpering mess he’d turned you into earlier. “You’ve had your fun, Satoru. Now you’re gonna take what I give you.”

You started riding him—slow, filthy circles at first, then rising up until only his flushed, leaky tip kissed your entrance before slamming back down. The wet slap of your ass meeting his thighs filled the room. Pap. Pap. Pap. Each drop made his cock disappear completely inside you, your slick coating his shaft until it glistened all the way to the base.

Gojo’s abs flexed violently under your palms. “Fuck—fuck, you’re so tight—gonna let me flip us, yeah? C’mon pretty, I’ll make it so good—”

You leaned forward, grabbed a fistful of his snowy hair and yanked his head back, forcing those glowing eyes to meet yours. “Shut up and take it.”

His cock twitched hard inside you at the command. A broken little moan slipped from his throat before he could swallow it.

You picked up the pace, bouncing on him faster, harder, letting your tits jiggle with every drop while your pussy clenched around him like a vice. The lewd schlick-schlick-schlick of your dripping cunt swallowing his cock over and over was obscene. Gojo’s mouth hung open, tongue lolling slightly, that perfect face flushed crimson.

He tried again—brat that he was. Hands gripping your hips with Six Eyes precision, he bucked up suddenly, trying to wrestle control and fuck you from below. You felt his thighs tense, hips snapping up with that monstrous strength.

You slammed down harder, pinning his pelvis to the mattress with your full weight. “I said no.” You rolled your hips in punishing circles, grinding his cock against that spongy spot deep inside you while denying him any real thrust. “You’re mine tonight, Satoru. My toy.”

“Baby—please—fuck, I’m so close already—” His voice cracked. Those legendary Six Eyes were glassy, pupils blown wide as he stared up at you like you were the only thing in the universe.

You slowed to a torturous grind, barely moving, just letting his throbbing length sit buried inside your clenching heat. Every time his cock pulsed, you squeezed around him deliberately, milking him without letting him tip over.

Gojo whimpered. Actually whimpered. “Don’t—don’t stop, I need—ngh—!”

You lifted off him almost completely, letting his cock slap wetly against his abs, angry red and dripping with your juices. You hovered there, teasing the slick head against your entrance, dipping just the tip in and out while he bucked desperately beneath you.

“Beg.”

His eyes snapped open. “What—?”

You sank down halfway, then lifted again, edging him mercilessly. “You heard me. Beg like the needy little slut you are.”

Gojo’s chest heaved, sweat sliding down the grooves of his abs. His cock was twitching violently, veins bulging, the fat head swollen and purple. “Fuck—baby, please—let me cum, I’ll be good, I swear—”

“Not good enough.” You dropped down again, taking him to the hilt and staying there, rolling your hips in tiny, cruel circles that rubbed your clit perfectly while his cock throbbed uselessly inside you. You could feel him leaking nonstop, painting your walls.

He tried one last time to flip you—hands sliding up to grab your tits, hips surging up with all that insane strength—but you pinned his wrists above his head with one hand (he let you, the desperate part of him loving it) and rode him even harder. Your ass clapped loudly against his thighs, pussy creaming so much it dripped down his balls and soaked the sheets.

“Fuck—fuck—fuck—!” Gojo’s voice broke into a whine. “Please—please let me cum inside you, I’ll do anything—wanna fill you up so bad—been so mean earlier, I’m sorry—baby please—!”

You leaned down, biting his lower lip hard enough to make him moan, then whispered against his mouth, “Say it again. Louder.”

“I’m sorry—fuck—please, I’m begging—let your good boy cum—wanna pump you full—ngh—gonna explode—!”

You finally gave it to him.

You sat up straight, planted both hands on his chest, and rode him like you were trying to break him—fast, brutal, ass bouncing, pussy squeezing him on every upstroke. The wet sounds were filthy, your slick squirting out around his cock with every slam.

Gojo’s eyes rolled back. “Cumming—cumming—fuuuuck—!”

His whole body seized. Thick, hot ropes of cum erupted deep inside you, flooding your womb in heavy, endless spurts. He kept cumming, hips jerking weakly beneath you as you milked him through it, grinding down hard to take every last drop. His cock pulsed and throbbed for what felt like minutes, painting your insides white until it started leaking out around him in creamy rivulets.

Even after he finished, you didn’t stop. You kept riding his oversensitive cock, slow and deep, watching his face twist in that beautiful mix of pleasure and overstimulation.

“W-wait—too much—baby—sensitive—ah—!” Gojo’s voice cracked again, tears pricking the corners of those brilliant eyes.

You smiled, wicked and satisfied, and clenched around him deliberately. “You can give me another one, can’t you, Satoru? After all that mean shit you pulled earlier… you owe me.”

He let out a wrecked sob-laugh, head falling back against the pillows, snowy hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. His cock—still rock hard inside you—twitched eagerly at your words.

“Yes—fuck—yes, I do—use me—ruin me—please—”

You leaned down, licked a stripe up his throat, and started riding him all over again—slower this time, savoring every inch, every desperate whimper, every broken “please” that fell from the strongest sorcerer’s pretty mouth.

By the time you were done with him, Gojo Satoru was a trembling, cum-soaked, begging mess… and he’d never looked more beautiful.

TOJI FUSHIGURO

Toji had you folded in half beneath him, thick muscular thighs pinning your legs wide open while he drilled into you like a man possessed. Missionary had never felt so fucking brutal. His scarred lip was curled, sweat dripping from his brow onto your tits as he slammed his fat cock into your soaked cunt over and over—deep, punishing strokes that punched right against your cervix and made your eyes roll back.

“Fuckin’ take it, babygirl,” he growled, voice low and gravelly, one massive hand wrapped around your throat just tight enough to make your head spin. “This pussy’s mine. Greedy little thing suckin’ me in so nasty.”

The wet pap-pap-pap of his heavy balls slapping your ass filled the room, mixed with your broken moans and the obscene squelch of your creamy cunt. He was so deep, so thick, stretching you open with every brutal thrust. His washboard abs flexed, that dark happy trail matted with your slick as he rutted into you harder, grunting like a beast.

You were close—so fucking close—but Toji knew. He always knew. He slowed just enough to keep you teetering right on the edge, smirking down at your tear-streaked face.

“Not yet, pretty thing. You cum when I say.”

That was it. That cocky, mean dominance flipped a switch inside you.

With a burst of adrenaline and the last of your strength, you hooked your legs around his waist, twisted hard, and used every bit of momentum to roll both of you over. Toji’s back hit the mattress with a heavy thud, cock still buried to the hilt inside you. You were on top now, straddling his narrow hips, chest heaving, sweat-slick skin glowing under the dim light.

Toji blinked once, surprised, then let out a deep, rumbling chuckle. His big hands immediately grabbed your ass, squeezing the soft flesh hard enough to leave marks.

“Oh? My pretty girl wanna ride?” He grinned, that scar pulling at his lip, eyes dark with hunger. “Atta girl~ Go on then. Use this dick.”

He surged up, latching his hot mouth onto your nipple, sucking hard while his tongue flicked the sensitive bud. One hand slid up your back, the other guiding your hips like he still owned the rhythm.

You shoved him.

Both palms planted firm on his broad chest, you pushed him flat back down onto the mattress. Hard.

Toji’s eyes flashed with surprise—then something hotter.

You didn’t wait. You planted your feet on the bed, lifted your hips until only his swollen, veiny tip was stretching your pussy lips, and slammed back down. Hard.

“Fuuuuck—!” Toji’s head snapped back, thick neck straining, veins popping along his throat as your tight, dripping cunt swallowed every inch of his massive cock in one go. The wet slap of your ass meeting his pelvis was loud, filthy.

You started riding him like you meant it—fast, deep, rolling your hips in nasty circles before bouncing again. Your tits bounced with every drop, pussy creaming so much it frothed white around his thick base, dripping down his heavy balls.

Toji’s hands flew to your waist again, trying to take control, fingers digging in. “Yeah—fuck, just like that, baby—ride this dick—ngh—”

You grabbed both his wrists and pinned them above his head, leaning your full weight down as you fucked him harder. The new angle made his curved cock drag right against that spongy spot inside you, making you moan loud and shameless.

Toji’s brows furrowed. That cocky smirk faltered.

“The fuck you think you’re doin’?” he grunted, voice rough, trying to buck his hips up to reclaim the rhythm. But you slammed down harder, grinding your clit against his pelvis and clenching around him like a vice every time you bottomed out.

“I’m fucking you, Toji,” you panted, voice breathy but firm, still bouncing on his cock like it was your personal toy. “You’ve been rough with me for so long… now it’s my turn.”

He let out a frustrated growl, muscles flexing as he tested your grip on his wrists. You didn’t budge. His cock throbbed violently inside you, betraying him completely.

“Brat—shit—slow the fuck down—” But his voice cracked on the last word when you started really riding him—ass rippling with every harsh drop, pussy squeezing and fluttering around his thickness. The room filled with wet, sloppy sounds: schlick-schlick-schlick, skin slapping skin, your moans mixing with his low, angry grunts.

Toji’s ego was screaming. This wasn’t how it went. He was supposed to be the one wrecking you, not the other way around. He tried again—twisting his wrists, hips snapping up sharply to impale you deeper—but you rode through it, grinding down and rolling your hips in filthy figure-eights that made his toes curl.

“Goddamn it—fuck—” He bared his teeth, scar pulling tight, eyes burning with frustration… and something darker. Something hungry. Internally, his brain was short-circuiting. The way your tight cunt gripped him, the way you used him, the sight of your tits bouncing while you took what you wanted—it was driving him insane. He fucking loved it. Hated how much he loved it.

But he’d die before saying it out loud.

“Get off me and let me fuck you proper, woman,” he snarled, voice strained, trying to sound pissed. Instead it came out wrecked, husky, desperate.

You just smiled, wicked and breathless, and rode him faster. You released his wrists only to plant your hands on his chest, nails digging into his pecs as you bounced harder. His cock kissed your cervix on every drop, veins dragging along your walls, the lewd squelching louder than ever.

Toji’s head pressed back into the pillow, jaw clenched so hard the muscles jumped. “Fuckin’—ngh—shit, you’re squeezin’ me so tight—slow down or I’m gonna—”

You clenched deliberately around him again, rolling your hips slow and deep, feeling every ridge and vein. “You’re gonna what, Toji? Cum? Like a good boy?”

His eyes snapped open, furious and glassy. “Don’t you fuckin’—hah—start that shit with me—”

But his cock betrayed him again, swelling thicker inside you, pulsing dangerously. You could feel him leaking nonstop, hot precum mixing with your cream.

You leaned down, biting his scarred lip before pulling back just enough to keep riding him mercilessly. “Then beg me to let you cum.”

Toji’s face twisted—frustration, pleasure, ego all warring across his handsome, scarred features. He bucked up hard, trying one last time to flip you, but you slammed your hips down and pinned him with your weight, grinding in tight circles that made his abs twitch and his thighs shake.

“Fuck—fuck you—” he growled, but his voice was breaking, breath coming in ragged pants. Internally he was losing it—the way you owned his cock, the way your pussy milked him, the power in your eyes—it was the hottest thing he’d ever felt. His pride screamed no, but his body screamed yes.

You kept riding, faster, wetter, ass clapping loudly against him while your cunt fluttered and squeezed. “Say it, Toji. Tell me how bad you need it.”

His hands grabbed your hips again—not to control this time, but to hold on, fingers trembling. A low, broken groan ripped from his chest as you angled just right and slammed down particularly hard.

“Shit—baby—fuck—please—” The word slipped out before he could stop it. His cheeks burned. “Don’t stop—fuckin’ ride me—gonna cum so hard—please—”

You rewarded him by bouncing faster, tits jiggling, pussy creaming all over his cock until it was frothy white. Toji’s eyes rolled back, scar stretched tight over his snarling mouth as his massive body started to shake.

When you finally clenched hard and ground down deep, he broke.

“Fuuuuck—cumming—gonna fill you up—shit—take it all, pretty girl—ngh—!”

Thick, heavy ropes of cum erupted deep inside you, flooding your womb in hot, endless spurts. Toji’s hips jerked weakly beneath you, grunting and cursing as you kept riding him through it, milking every drop while his cock twitched and pulsed.

Even after he finished, you didn’t stop—slow, lazy rolls of your hips, keeping him buried deep in your cum-filled pussy.

Toji’s chest heaved, eyes half-lidded, that usual cocky mask cracked wide open. He looked wrecked. Beautifully wrecked.

He’d never admit how much he loved being under you… but the way his spent cock was already twitching back to life inside you said everything.

You leaned down, kissing his scarred lips softly before whispering, “Good boy.”

Toji groaned, half-frustrated, half-obsessed, and pulled you down harder against him.

“Fuckin’ brat… do it again.”

CHOSO KAMO

Choso had you on all fours, strong hands gripping your hips with a desperation you’d never quite felt from him before. Usually your sweet, soft-spoken boyfriend was all gentle thrusts and whispered praises—“You feel so good, baby… so perfect around me…”—but tonight something had snapped.

He was fucking you hard from behind, hips snapping forward with powerful, rhythmic smacks that made your ass ripple. His thick cock stretched you open so deep you could barely breathe, the fat head bullying your cervix on every brutal plunge.

“Fuck—fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight,” Choso groaned, voice hoarse and low, long black hair sticking to his sweaty shoulders. One hand slid up your spine and fisted your hair, tugging your head back as he drove in deeper. “Taking me so well… my pretty girl… hah—gonna cum so deep inside you.”

The wet pap-pap-pap of his heavy balls slapping your clit filled the room, mixed with your broken moans and the filthy squelch of your soaked pussy. He was so thick, veins dragging along your walls, stretching you perfectly. You were creaming around him, slick dripping down your thighs with every punishing thrust.

But you wanted more. You wanted control.

The next time he pulled back, you spun fast, twisting beneath him. Choso’s cock slipped out with a wet pop, glistening with your cream. Before he could react, you shoved his chest and climbed on top, straddling his narrow waist. You grabbed his throbbing length, lined him up, and sank down in one smooth, greedy motion.

“Shit—baby—!” Choso’s eyes widened, those dark marks across his face flushing deeper as your tight heat swallowed every inch. His hands flew to your thighs, squeezing softly like he always did—still so gentle even now.

You planted both palms on his toned chest and started riding him hard. Ass bouncing, hips rolling in filthy circles, pussy clenching around his thickness on every downstroke. The wet slap of skin on skin was louder now, your juices coating his abs and dripping down his balls.

Choso’s head fell back against the pillows, mouth open in a silent moan. “Oh my god—yes—ride me, please—feels so fucking good—”

You leaned forward, grabbed his wrists and pinned them beside his head. “That’s right. Tonight you’re mine, Choso. Gonna use this pretty cock until I’m satisfied.”

His cock twitched violently inside you at your words. A needy whine slipped from his throat—high, desperate, nothing like his usual soft murmurs.

You rode him faster, tits bouncing with every harsh drop, grinding your clit against his pelvis on every roll. His thick cock kissed that spongy spot deep inside you over and over, making your thighs shake.

Choso’s eyes were glassy, pupils blown wide with lust. “Baby—hah—slow down a little, I’m so close already—please—”

You lifted off him almost completely, letting only his swollen, leaking tip stretch your entrance before slamming back down. Then you stopped moving entirely, just clenching around him rhythmically, milking his cock without giving him any friction.

Choso’s hips bucked up desperately, trying to chase the heat of your pussy. “No—no, please—don’t stop—need you—”

You smiled, wicked and breathless, and started riding him again—slow, torturous bounces that let you feel every vein, every ridge. “Beg for it, Choso. Tell me how bad you need to cum.”

His face flushed crimson, but there wasn’t a single trace of shame. Choso loved this. Loved being under you. Loved when you took control and used him like your personal toy.

“Please—please baby, let me cum inside you,” he whimpered, voice cracking beautifully. “Your pussy feels so good— so warm and wet— I’ll be so good for you, I swear— just let me fill you up— ngh—!”

You rewarded him by bouncing harder, ass clapping loudly against his thighs. But right when his cock started swelling and his thighs trembled beneath you, you slowed again—edging him cruelly.

Choso let out a broken sob, head thrashing against the pillow. “No—please— I was so close— I need it— baby please don’t stop—!”

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, those dark stripes across his nose and cheeks glistening with sweat. His cock was throbbing angrily inside you, leaking nonstop, painting your walls with precum. You could feel his heartbeat pulsing through every thick inch.

You leaned down, biting his neck softly while you rolled your hips in tiny, maddening circles. “You look so pretty like this, Choso. Trembling under me. Beg some more.”

“Fuck—please—ride me harder—use me— I’m yours— all yours—” He was babbling now, completely lost in it, hips jerking weakly beneath you. “I’ll do anything— just let me cum— wanna fill you until it’s dripping out— please, I can’t take it—!”

You sat up straight, planted your hands on his chest again, and started riding him with purpose—fast, deep, brutal bounces that made the bed creak. Your pussy clenched around him like a vice on every upstroke, creamy slick frothing white at his base.

Choso’s eyes rolled back, tongue lolling slightly as broken moans spilled from his lips. “Yes—yes—thank you—feels so good—gonna cum—baby I’m gonna—!”

You slammed down one final time and ground hard against him, clit rubbing perfectly while your walls fluttered and squeezed.

Choso shattered.

A loud, wrecked cry tore from his throat as thick, hot ropes of cum flooded your insides—pulse after heavy pulse, filling you so full it started leaking out around his cock immediately. His whole body trembled violently beneath you, abs clenching, thighs shaking, fingers digging into the sheets as he came harder than he ever had.

But you didn’t stop.

You kept riding him through his orgasm, slow and deep, milking every last drop while his oversensitive cock twitched and jerked inside your cum-stuffed pussy.

“Baby—hah—too much—sensitive—please—” Choso whimpered, tears slipping down his flushed cheeks, but his hips still weakly rolled up to meet you, cock refusing to soften.

You leaned down, kissing his tears away while you kept moving. “One more, Choso. You can give me one more, can’t you? My good boy.”

He nodded frantically, voice hoarse and desperate. “Yes—yes please—use me—edge me again— I love it— love when you brat tame me— please don’t stop—!”

You smiled against his lips and started riding him all over again—long, intense strokes, squeezing and grinding, pushing your sweet, submissive boyfriend right back to the trembling, begging edge while he moaned your name like a prayer.

Choso was in heaven. Completely, shamelessly yours. And he never wanted it to end.

GETO SUGURU

Geto Suguru had been an absolute tease all night.

At the reunion, surrounded by his devoted followers, he kept brushing his fingers along the small of your back, whispering filthy promises against your ear while smiling that serene, cult-leader smile. “Be patient, my love. I’ll ruin you later.” His hand would drift lower, squeezing your ass discreetly when no one was looking, then pull away like nothing happened. By the time you were finally alone in the lavish private quarters, you were soaked, aching, and pissed off in the best way.

The second the heavy door clicked shut, you turned on him.

Suguru barely had time to smirk before you shoved him back against the wall, fingers twisting into the front of his expensive black robes and yanking him down into a bruising kiss. He chuckled softly into your mouth, but you didn’t let him take control. You pushed him harder, walking him backwards until his knees hit the edge of the massive bed and he dropped onto it.

“Strip,” you ordered, already shedding your own clothes.

His dark eyes gleamed with amusement and heat. “Bossy tonight, wife?”

You climbed onto his lap before he could finish undressing fully, shoving the robes open so his toned, pale chest was exposed. His cock was already hard, thick and flushed, curving slightly upward. You wrapped your fingers around the base and sank down onto him in one smooth, greedy motion.

“Fuck—!” Suguru’s head fell back, long black hair spilling across the sheets as your tight, dripping cunt swallowed every inch. The stretch was perfect, his thickness filling you so completely your walls fluttered around him.

You didn’t give him a second to adjust. You planted your hands on his chest and started riding him—hard, fast, ass bouncing with wet, filthy slaps against his thighs. Pap. Pap. Pap. Your slick coated his shaft instantly, dripping down to soak his balls.

Suguru groaned, hands flying to your hips. “Shit, baby—slow down, let me—”

“No.” You grabbed both his wrists and pinned them above his head, leaning your full weight on him as you rolled your hips in deep, punishing circles. “You teased me all night, Suguru. Now you’re going to take what I give you.”

His cock twitched hard inside you. A low, pleased laugh rumbled from his chest even as his eyes darkened with lust. “Look at you… my powerful little wife. Taking control like the queen you are.” He loved this—loved powerful women, loved when you reminded him exactly who you were. The cult leader’s wife who could command a room just as easily as she commanded his cock.

You rode him faster, tits bouncing, pussy creaming so much it frothed white around his thick base. The wet schlick-schlick-schlick of your cunt devouring him filled the room, mixed with your moans and his ragged breaths.

When you felt him start to swell, thighs tensing beneath you, you slowed to a torturous grind—barely moving, just clenching around him rhythmically while his leaking tip kissed your cervix.

Suguru’s jaw clenched, hips bucking up desperately. “Don’t you dare edge me, love—”

You slammed down hard once, then stopped again, smiling sweetly. “I dare. You’re mine tonight.”

He groaned, long and low, but his eyes were shining with pure adoration and filthy want. “Fuck… you’re so hot when you’re like this. Ruling me. Using me.” His voice was husky, reverent. “My perfect queen.”

You rewarded his praise by riding him again—fast, brutal bounces that made the bed creak. Your ass clapped loudly against his pelvis, pussy squeezing him on every upstroke. Suguru’s abs flexed, veins standing out along his neck as he fought not to cum.

Right when his cock started pulsing dangerously, you lifted off him completely, letting his slick, throbbing length slap wetly against his stomach. You hovered there, teasing the swollen head against your dripping entrance.

“Baby—please—” The word slipped out, rare and delicious from the usually composed Geto Suguru.

You sank down halfway, then lifted again, edging him mercilessly. “Beg properly, Suguru. Tell your wife how bad you need her cunt.”

He let out a wrecked chuckle that dissolved into a moan when you clenched around just his tip. “Please—my queen, my love—let me cum inside you. I’ve been hard for you all night. Need to fill this perfect pussy—need you to ride me until I can’t think—”

You dropped down fully and rode him like you were trying to break him. Hard, deep, relentless. Your nails dug into his chest, leaving red marks across his pale skin as you bounced, grinding your clit against him on every stroke.

Suguru’s head pressed back into the pillows, long hair fanned out, mouth open in a silent cry. “Yes—fuck— just like that— you’re so good— so fucking powerful— hah—!”

You edged him twice more—bringing him right to the brink, then stopping, watching his cock twitch and leak helplessly while he trembled beneath you. Tears of overstimulation and pleasure pricked the corners of his dark eyes, but he never once tried to flip you. He loved it too much.

By the fourth edge, he was shaking.

“Baby—please— I can’t— I need to cum— I’ll do anything— just let me fill you— please, my queen—” His voice cracked, usually smooth tone now hoarse and desperate. His hips jerked weakly, trying to chase your heat, but you kept him pinned.

You finally took mercy.

You slammed down hard, riding him with everything you had—ass rippling, pussy fluttering and squeezing, tits bouncing wildly. The wet sounds were obscene, your combined moans echoing off the walls.

“Cum for me, Suguru. Fill your wife up.”

He broke with a guttural groan that sounded almost pained. Thick, hot ropes of cum erupted deep inside you, flooding your womb in heavy, endless spurts. His cock pulsed violently, body shuddering beneath you as he came harder than he had in months. You kept riding through it, milking every drop until his cum was leaking out around his shaft and dripping down his balls.

Even after, you didn’t stop—slow, deep grinds, keeping him buried inside your cum-filled pussy while he twitched and whimpered from the overstimulation.

Suguru looked up at you with glassy, worshipful eyes, chest heaving, sweat glistening on his skin. “You’re incredible,” he whispered, voice raw. “My strong, beautiful wife… ruling me so perfectly.”

You leaned down, biting his lower lip before kissing him slow and deep.

“And I’m not done with you yet, husband.”

Suguru smiled against your mouth, cock already twitching back to life inside you.

“Good. Break me again.”

SUKUNA RYOMEN

Sukuna had dared you.

The King of Curses himself—your husband—had smirked down at you after yet another night of wrecking you into the mattress, four massive hands pinning you down while he laughed at how easily you submitted. “You’re such a brat everywhere else, wife. But in my bed? You melt like a desperate little whore. I dare you to try and dominate me one day. See what happens.”

You took the dare.

That night, while he slept like the arrogant bastard he was, you carefully bound his four wrists to the reinforced posts of your massive bed using the special cursed bindings you’d prepared. Then you waited.

Sukuna woke up slowly, crimson eyes cracking open. He tugged once on the restraints, chains rattling, and let out a low, dangerous chuckle that sent shivers down your spine.

“Well, well… look at this.” His voice was a deep, velvety growl, laced with irritation and dark amusement. Four powerful arms flexed, testing the bindings. The muscles in his tattooed torso rippled as he shifted. He could snap them in half instantly if he wanted. But he didn’t. Those sharp eyes locked onto you, sitting naked between his spread thighs, and his lips curled into a fanged smirk. “You’ve got balls, woman. Let’s see how long you last before I break these chains and fuck you stupid.”

You crawled up his body slowly, dragging your nails down his rock-hard abs, tracing the black tattoos that marked his pale skin. Leaning over his face, you whispered right against his ear, voice sweet and deadly:

“Tonight you’re my toy, Sukuna. And if you misbehave… I might just leave you here aching all night.”

Anyone else would’ve been eviscerated for saying that. Sukuna’s eyes flashed with murderous heat, but his cock—thick, veiny, and already rock hard—twitched hard against his stomach, betraying him.

You smiled sweetly and wrapped both hands around his massive length. Even with two hands it was a stretch. You stroked him slowly, torturously, thumb rubbing over the swollen, leaking head. Sukuna groaned low in his throat, hips twitching up into your grip.

“Brat,” he snarled, tugging harder on the chains. “Stroke it properly or I’ll—”

You dragged your fingers away completely, leaving his cock bobbing angrily in the air, flushed dark red and dripping precum down the shaft. You smirked, watching his four arms strain, veins bulging.

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “You’re pushing it, wife.”

You leaned down and dragged your tongue slowly up the underside of his cock, from balls to tip, before pulling back again. “Am I?” you whispered, lips brushing the sensitive head. “Or are you just mad because your little wife is finally putting the big bad King in his place?”

You straddled his thick thighs and sank down onto him in one smooth glide, taking every brutal inch until your ass pressed against his heavy balls. The stretch burned so good you moaned loud, walls fluttering around his girth.

“Fuuuuck—” Sukuna’s head slammed back against the pillows, fangs bared. “Tight— so fucking tight—”

You started riding him hard. Ass bouncing, hips rolling in filthy circles, pussy creaming around his thickness with every drop. The wet pap-pap-pap of your ass meeting his pelvis echoed through the room, mixed with the wet squelching of your soaked cunt devouring his cock.

Sukuna growled, four arms yanking violently on the chains, making the bed creak. “Faster, brat— ride me like you mean it or I’ll tear these bindings off and—”

You slammed down and stopped moving completely, grinding in slow, maddening circles while clenching around him. “You’ll what?” you whispered, leaning forward so your tits brushed his chest. “Kill me? Your own wife? The only one who can handle this cock?”

You smirked right in his face as you edged him mercilessly—riding him right to the edge, feeling his cock swell and throb inside you, then lifting off until only the fat tip stretched your pussy lips before sinking down again.

Sukuna was trembling now. Not from weakness—from pure, frustrated pleasure. His crimson eyes burned with irritation and raw lust. “You filthy little—ngh—tease. I should rip you apart for this.”

But he didn’t break the chains.

You dragged your nails down his chest, leaving red lines across the tattoos, and rode him again—faster, harder, tits bouncing wildly. The lewd schlick-schlick-schlick of your dripping pussy filled the air. Sukuna’s abs flexed violently, hips trying to buck up and take control, but you pinned his pelvis down with your weight and kept the rhythm cruel.

Right when his cock started pulsing and his thighs shook, you lifted off completely again, stroking him slowly with both hands while smirking down at his furious, flushed face.

“Look at you,” you purred, voice dripping with mock sweetness. “The King of Curses, chained up and leaking for his wife. So close… but you don’t get to cum until I say.”

Sukuna snarled, fangs glinting, four arms bulging as he pulled against the restraints. “You’re dead, brat— I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk— fill you with so much cum you’ll be swollen for days—”

You squeezed the base of his cock hard, cutting off his orgasm, and watched pre-cum dribble helplessly down his shaft. His whole body jerked, a low, animalistic growl ripping from his chest.

But when you finally sank back down and started riding him again, he moaned—deep, wrecked, shameless.

You edged him four more times. Each one worse than the last. By the final edge he was shaking, sweat glistening on his tattooed muscles, long pink hair stuck to his face, crimson eyes glassy with desperate need.

“Please—” The word sounded like it physically pained him, but it still came out. “Fuck— wife— let me cum— I’ll tear you apart after, but please— let me fill that greedy cunt—”

You smirked victoriously, leaned down and bit his scarred shoulder hard while slamming down on his cock over and over.

“Cum for me, King.”

Sukuna roared.

His massive body seized, four arms yanking so hard the chains groaned as thick, heavy ropes of cum exploded deep inside you. He flooded your womb in violent, endless spurts, so much it gushed out around his cock instantly, soaking his balls and the sheets beneath. His hips jerked wildly beneath you, fucking up into you even while bound, chasing every last pulse.

You kept riding him through it, grinding and squeezing, milking him dry while he snarled and moaned and cursed your name like a prayer and a threat all at once.

Even after he finished, you didn’t stop—slow, lazy bounces on his oversensitive cock, watching him twitch and hiss through the overstimulation.

Sukuna’s chest heaved, eyes half-lidded, that dangerous smirk slowly returning to his lips despite everything.

“You’ve got one night, brat,” he growled, voice hoarse and fucked-out. “Use it well. Because when these chains come off… I’m going to remind you exactly who owns this pussy.”

You just smiled, clenching around his spent cock, and whispered against his mouth:

“We’ll see about that, husband.”

[fayelero]

♯ ⋮ 𝄞 trying to tame your husband, the king of curses ༉ .ᐟ ★

⋮ ⌗ ┆mdni. p in v, degradation, two cocks, double p !

Sukuna had always indulged his brat of a wife.

You interrupted him mid-sentence during war council, rolling your eyes when he got dramatically theatrical about executing traitors. You’d perch on the arm of his massive throne like it was your personal seat, legs crossed, filing your nails while he held court. When he reached for you expecting instant affection, you’d pull away first with a sweet little smirk, denying him just to watch his four eyes narrow. You ignored his summons some days, making the King of Curses wait for your attention like a common servant. And you decided when he got your kisses, your touches—never the other way around.

In every aspect of life, you were a spoiled, untamed brat.

Except in bed.

In bed, Sukuna had always been merciless. Four arms pinning you down, cocks splitting you open, fucking you raw until you sobbed and begged and forgot your own name. He dominated you completely, and you loved it.

Until tonight.

You were straddling his lap on the throne after everyone else had been dismissed, grinding slowly against the massive bulge in his robes while he lounged back with a lazy, fanged grin.

“Careful, woman,” he rumbled, voice deep and amused. “Keep pushing and I might let you try to dominate me for once. See how far that bratty attitude gets you.”

Your eyes lit up with wicked delight. You leaned in, nipping his lower lip before pulling back just out of reach when he tried to kiss you.

“Challenge accepted, my King.”

Sukuna’s smirk widened, all four arms settling on your waist. “Oh? Then show me, brat. Try to tame me.”

You didn’t hesitate.

You shoved his broad chest, forcing him to stay seated on the throne as you stripped him. His two heavy cocks sprang free—thick, veiny, already dripping. You wrapped both hands around the upper one, stroking slowly while you positioned yourself over the lower.

Sukuna chuckled darkly. “Ambitious little—”

You sank down onto his lower cock in one smooth drop, taking him to the hilt. The stretch burned deliciously, your soaked pussy fluttering around his insane girth.

“Fuuuck—” Sukuna growled, one set of hands gripping your hips hard.

You started riding him immediately—hard, fast, ass bouncing with loud, wet slaps against his muscular thighs. Pap. Pap. Pap. Your slick coated him instantly, dripping down to soak the throne beneath you.

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, but his cocks twitched hard inside and against you. “Bold tonight, aren’t we?”

You grabbed two of his wrists and pinned them to the throne arms (he let you, the bastard), rolling your hips in filthy circles while you stroked his upper cock in time with your bounces.

“You’re mine right now, husband,” you panted, leaning down to bite his neck. “Gonna edge you until you’re begging.”

He laughed—low, dangerous—but you felt his cocks throb. He loved this. Loved when you pushed back. Loved powerful brats who challenged him.

You rode him faster, pussy squeezing and creaming around his lower cock while your hand worked the upper one, thumb swirling over the leaking tip. The wet schlick-schlick-schlick echoed through the empty hall. When you felt both cocks swelling, his thighs tensing, you slowed to a torturous grind.

Sukuna’s jaw clenched, fangs bared. “Don’t you fucking dare stop, woman.”

You lifted off his lower cock completely, letting it slap wetly against his abs, and hovered there teasingly. “Or what?”

His eyes flashed with irritation and raw lust. One of his free hands shot out to grab your ass, but you slapped it away and sank back down, riding him hard again—only to edge him a second time when he got close.

“Brat—” he snarled, voice rough. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

But he was obsessed. The way you defied him, the way you used his cocks like toys, the fire in your eyes—it made his blood boil in the best way. He could crush you in a second, yet here he was, letting his little wife edge the King of Curses on his own throne.

You kept pushing—riding him mercilessly, stroking both cocks, whispering filthy taunts. “Look at you, my big strong husband… getting edged by his wife. Does it piss you off? Or does it make you harder?”

Sukuna’s growl turned into a groan when you clenched particularly hard. “Keep talking and I’ll put you back in your fucking place.”

You leaned in, licking the tattooed marks on his chest before pulling away again when he tried to kiss you. “Make me.”

That snapped something in him.

With a feral snarl, Sukuna’s patience shattered. Two arms grabbed your waist, another fisted your hair, the last one wrapping around your throat as he surged up. He flipped you so fast your head spun—now you were bent over the throne, ass up, face pressed into the cool stone.

“You wanted to play, wife?” he growled, slamming both cocks into you at once—one stretching your dripping cunt, the other forcing its way into your tight ass.

You screamed in pleasure, eyes rolling back.

Sukuna fucked you like a beast unleashed—brutal, punishing thrusts that made your whole body jolt. The dual stretch was overwhelming, his heavy balls slapping your clit as he railed you.

“Bratty little cunt thinks she can tame me?” He spanked your ass hard, then again, leaving red handprints. “This is what happens when you push me, slut.”

You pushed back anyway, rolling your hips to meet his savage thrusts, still challenging him even while getting destroyed. “Is that all you’ve got, my King?”

Sukuna laughed—dark, delighted—and fucked you harder. Four arms manhandling you, cocks pistoning deep, rearranging your guts while you moaned and drooled against the throne.

He edged you right back—slowing when you were close, laughing when you whined and tried to push back for more.

“See? This is your place,” he snarled, biting your shoulder hard enough to mark. “Under me. Filled with my cocks. Taking what I give you.”

But even as he said it, his thrusts grew erratic, obsessed. He loved your brattiness. Loved when you challenged him. Loved putting his fiery wife back where she belonged—impaled and screaming his name.

When he finally let you cum, it hit like lightning. Your pussy and ass clenched around both cocks, squirting messily down your thighs as you wailed.

Sukuna followed with a groan, flooding both holes with thick, endless ropes of cum until it gushed out around him, dripping down the throne in creamy rivers.

He didn’t pull out. Instead he flipped you again, sitting back on his throne with you impaled on both cocks, facing him.

You were trembling, cum-stuffed and marked, but you still smirked up at him, eyes sparkling with that same bratty defiance.

Sukuna grinned, fangs flashing, one hand stroking your cheek almost tenderly while another squeezed your ass.

“Round two, wife. Let’s see how long you last before you’re begging me to ruin you again.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically, interrupting whatever he was about to say next.

“Make me, husband.”

His laugh was pure, dangerous delight.

“Oh, I will, brat. I fucking will.”

[fayelero]

Congratulations on 4k my sweet pretty girl mwahh 🥰❤️

OMG THANKS BBYYYY KISS KISS 💋

[fayelero]

GURL CONGRATS FOR YOUR 4KKKK UOU DESERVE ITTTRRR : you’re writing is pure perfection 🙌

GURLYYYY THANKSSSSSS OMGGGG

[fayelero]

GUYSSSS OMG THANK YOU FOR THE 4KKKK ❤️❤️❤️❤️💋💋💋💍💍💍💍

[fayelero]

♯ ⋮ 𝄞 satoru’s groin messing w your clit ༉ .ᐟ ★

⋮ ⌗ ┆mdni. p in v, dirty talk, missionary, lewd description !

Gojo’s got you pinned beneath him like you’re his favorite fucking toy—missionary, but nothing sweet about it. Your back’s arched off the messy sheets, legs hiked up and spread so goddamn wide his big hands are gripping the soft backs of your thighs, pressing them toward your chest. He’s folding you in half, hips slamming down with that cocky, relentless rhythm only Satoru Gojo can pull off. Every brutal thrust makes your tits bounce under the thin tank top you’re still half-wearing, the fabric twisted up around your ribs.

“Fuuuck, look at you,” he groans, voice low and smug, those bright blue eyes half-lidded as he watches his thick cock disappear into your soaked pussy again and again. “Taking me so deep, baby. This greedy little cunt’s sucking me in like it missed me all day.”

He’s rough—always is when he gets like this. The wet slap of his heavy balls against your ass echoes through the room, mixed with the filthy squelch of your creamy walls gripping him. You’re creaming so much it’s dripping down to the sheets, shiny strings of it clinging to his pale groin every time he bottoms out. Gojo’s abs flex hard with each snap of his hips, that stupidly perfect V-line glistening with sweat. He’s got that cocky grin plastered on his face, white hair messy and sticking to his forehead as he rails you harder, the headboard banging against the wall like it’s about to break.

“Mngh—Satoru!” you cry out, nails digging into his broad shoulders, leaving red streaks down his back. Your legs tremble in his grip, spread obscenely wide, pussy lips stretched tight around his girth. He’s so fucking big, stretching you open, dragging against every sensitive ridge inside you until your eyes roll back.

“Yeah? Say my name louder, princess,” he taunts, leaning down to bite at your neck, hips never slowing. He grinds deep, stirring your insides before pulling back just to slam in again, bullying that sweet spot over and over. “Want the whole neighborhood knowing who’s fucking you stupid.”

Then he shifts.

Just a little tilt of those dangerous hips—angling downward so his groin presses flush against your swollen clit on every thrust. The first time it happens, your whole body jerks like you’ve been shocked. His pubic bone grinds right into that puffy, sticky bundle of nerves, mashing it perfectly while his cock kisses your cervix at the same time.

A wet, obscene schlick sound fills the air when he pulls back. Your aroused clit, slick and swollen from how long he’s been wrecking you, sticks to his groin for a split second before peeling away with that filthy noise.

Gojo doesn’t notice at first—he’s too busy groaning at how your walls flutter around him like crazy. “Shit—baby, you’re gripping me so tight. You close again?”

But you’re losing it. Your moans pitch higher, turning into desperate, broken whimpers. Your thighs shake violently in his hold as you instinctively try to spread even wider for him, knees pushing toward your shoulders. The pressure on your clit is unbearable—electric, sticky, perfect. Every time his groin drags over it, that lewd schlick-schlick repeats, your slick coating his skin, making the friction filthy and loud.

Gojo’s eyes widen a fraction when he finally clocks what’s happening. You’re not just taking his cock—you’re grinding your clit against him like a slut in heat. And then you do it. One of your hands flies down between your bodies, fingers spreading your puffy pussy lips even wider, blatantly offering your throbbing clit to his next thrust.

“Fuck—look at you,” he breathes, voice dropping into something darker, hungrier. “Spreading this pretty cunt for me? Want my groin rubbing all over that greedy clit, huh?”

He tests it—pulls back slow, letting the sticky strands of your arousal stretch between you, then snaps forward. Schluuuurp. The wet sound is pornographic. His groin smashes right against your exposed clit, grinding in tight circles while his cock stuffs you full. Your eyes cross. A wrecked “aaaah—!” rips from your throat as pleasure slams into you like a freight train.

Gojo chuckles, low and filthy, but there’s awe in it too. “Holy shit, baby. You’re squirting already? We’re just getting started.”

He doesn’t let up. He keeps that new angle, hips rolling with devastating precision—cock spearing deep, groin mashing and grinding your clit on every single thrust. The pap-pap-pap of his hips against your ass turns into wetter, messier slaps. Your pussy’s gushing now, clear slick spraying out around his cock with every brutal grind. You’re soaking his abs, his thighs, the sheets—everything.

“Toru—Satoru—fuck, right there—!” you sob, legs kicking uselessly in the air as he holds them open. Your fingers stay right there, spreading yourself obscenely so nothing stops that perfect friction on your clit. Every time he pulls back, your swollen nub sticks to his skin, stretching before snapping back with another wet pop.

Gojo’s panting now, that cocky grin gone, replaced by raw hunger. Sweat drips from his jaw onto your tits as he fucks you harder, faster, grinding his groin in filthy circles against your clit while his thick cock rearranges your insides. “That’s it, princess. Make a mess for me. Squirt all over my fucking cock—let me feel it.”

Your orgasm hits like a tidal wave. Your back arches clean off the bed, mouth open in a silent scream before it rips out as a guttural moan. Your pussy clamps down around him like a vice, spasming wildly, and then you’re squirting—hard. Clear, hot fluid jets out around his pistoning cock, splashing against his groin, his abs, soaking everything between you. The wet sounds are obscene, nonstop schlick-squelch-splash as he keeps fucking you through it, grinding that perfect pressure on your clit until your vision whites out.

“Fuuuuck—good girl, good fucking girl,” Gojo growls, voice strained. He’s still buried to the hilt, letting your walls milk him while your squirt keeps pulsing out in messy waves. Your legs are shaking uncontrollably, toes curled, pussy lips fluttering around him as you ride the high.

He doesn’t pull out. Instead he leans down, crushing his mouth to yours in a messy, tongue-filled kiss while he keeps shallowly grinding, letting your overstimulated clit twitch against his slick groin. “We’re not done, baby,” he murmurs against your lips, that signature smirk creeping back. “I wanna see how many times I can make you squirt before I fill this cute pussy up. Legs stay spread—let me feel that sticky little clit beg for more.”

Your whimper is all the answer he needs as he starts moving again—rough, deep, relentless—already chasing the next flood of your slick all over his skin.

[fayelero]

♯ ⋮ 𝄞 choso’s first time and he cums once he’s inside ༉ .ᐟ ★

⋮ ⌗ ┆mdni. p in v, praise, fingering !

choso was always so gentle with you, like you were made of the finest glass and one wrong move might shatter everything beautiful between you two. he treated you like his whole universe wrapped in soft skin and sweet sighs, especially tonight when it was his first time ever being this close, this deep, this raw with the woman he loved more than life itself. you were his girlfriend, his everything, and he’d spent weeks whispering how much he wanted this but how scared he was of messing it up. yet here you were, tangled in his sheets, bodies already slick with sweat and anticipation, and he was hovering above you like a man lost in a dream he never wanted to wake from.

his dark hair fell messy over his forehead, those sharp eyes of his wide and full of nervous hunger as he looked down at you. “you sure this is okay?” he breathed, voice low and shaky, barely above a whisper against your lips. his fingers trembled just a little as they traced the curve of your hip, sliding up to cup one of your breasts like it was sacred. you nodded, pulling him closer by the back of his neck, kissing him slow and deep until his tongue tangled with yours and he let out this soft, broken sound that went straight between your legs. “i want you so bad, baby,” you murmured against his mouth, guiding his hand lower until his fingers brushed your soaked folds. he groaned at how wet you already were for him, like your body had been waiting years just to take him in.

choso was so careful, so painfully patient even though you could feel his cock throbbing hard against your thigh, leaking and twitching every time you shifted. he kissed down your neck, sucking gentle marks into your skin like he was claiming you without rushing a single second. his mouth found your nipple next, tongue swirling slow and reverent while two thick fingers finally pushed inside you, stretching you open with this low, wrecked moan vibrating against your chest. “you feel so warm,” he whispered, voice cracking just a bit as he curled those fingers deep, scissoring them carefully like he’d studied every way to make you feel good. your back arched, a needy little whimper slipping out, and he looked up at you with those intense eyes, pupils blown wide. “tell me if it’s too much, okay? i don’t wanna hurt you.”

you shook your head, hips rolling against his hand, chasing the pleasure he was giving so sweetly. “it’s perfect, choso… you’re perfect,” you told him, and the praise made his cock jerk hard against your skin, a bead of precum smearing warm across your thigh. he kept working you open, adding a third finger when you started moaning louder, his thumb circling your clit in these slow, perfect strokes until your thighs were shaking and you were dripping all over his palm. he was breathing heavy now, chest rising and falling fast, forehead pressed to yours like he needed the closeness to stay grounded. “i love you,” he kept repeating between kisses, soft and desperate, like the words were the only thing keeping him from losing control. “love you so fucking much.”

when you finally tugged at his hair and begged him to fuck you, choso’s whole body tensed. he pulled his fingers out slow, bringing them to his mouth to taste you with this hungry little groan that made your pussy clench around nothing. he lined himself up then, thick head of his cock nudging against your entrance, slick and hot and so ready it was almost painful. his hands gripped your hips tight, thumbs stroking soothing circles like he was trying to calm himself more than you. “tell me again,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “tell me you want this.” you wrapped your legs around his waist, heels digging into his lower back, pulling him in. “i want you inside me, baby. all of you. right now.”

he pushed in.

just the tip at first, stretching you open so slow and careful it made stars burst behind your eyes. choso’s breath hitched sharp, a broken gasp tearing from his throat as your walls fluttered around him, hot and tight and wetter than he ever imagined. his eyes squeezed shut, forehead dropping to your shoulder, and then—then he sank the rest of the way in with one smooth, desperate thrust, burying himself to the hilt in one go like he couldn’t hold back anymore.

and he came.

instantly.

choso’s whole body jerked hard, a raw, choked moan ripping out of him as thick, hot spurts of cum flooded you deep. his cock pulsed and throbbed inside you, emptying everything he had in heavy, uncontrollable waves before he’d even pulled out once. “f-fuck—oh god—” he gasped, voice cracking completely, hips stuttering like he was trying to stop but couldn’t, couldn’t pull away from the overwhelming heat of your pussy squeezing around him. his face burned red, buried deep in the crook of your neck, and you could feel the heat of his embarrassment radiating off his skin as he kept cumming, so much it started leaking out around his shaft even though he was still fully inside.

he was mortified.

“i—i’m sorry,” he whispered, voice small and shaky, almost broken. his arms trembled as they caged you in, like he wanted to disappear but couldn’t bear to leave your body. “i didn’t—fuck, i couldn’t stop it, you just felt so good and i’ve never—i’m so sorry, baby, i ruined it, i’m such an idiot—” his words tumbled out fast and humiliated, muffled against your skin, and you felt one warm tear slip from his eye onto your shoulder. choso never cried, not like this, but the overwhelming rush of pleasure and shame hit him all at once and he couldn’t help it. his cock was still twitching inside you, softening just a little but still so full, still buried deep like he was afraid to face you if he pulled out.

you cupped his face gently, thumbs brushing away the wetness on his cheeks, tilting his head up so you could look into those dark, devastated eyes. “hey, hey, look at me,” you soothed, voice soft and full of love, kissing the corner of his trembling mouth. “you didn’t ruin anything, choso. not even close. that was so hot, feeling you lose it like that just from being inside me.” you clenched around him deliberately, making him hiss and twitch again even though he’d just finished, and a fresh wave of his cum pushed deeper. he whimpered, embarrassed all over again, but you kept kissing him—slow, sweet presses to his lips, his jaw, the tip of his nose. “you’re my first everything too in a way, you know that? first man i’ve ever loved this much. first one who makes me feel this safe and wanted. it’s okay if it’s fast. we’ve got all night. we’ve got forever.”

choso let out this shaky breath, still flushed dark across his cheeks and chest, but the tension in his shoulders eased just a fraction when you rolled your hips underneath him, grinding slow and gentle so his sensitive cock stayed nestled inside your warmth. “you’re not… mad?” he asked, voice barely there, eyes searching yours like he needed the reassurance carved into his soul. you smiled, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck and pulling him down until your bodies were pressed flush, skin to skin, hearts hammering together. “mad? baby, i’m so proud of you. you were so good for me, holding back as long as you could. felt so perfect stretching me open.” you kissed him deeper then, tongue sliding against his until he melted into it, until his hands started roaming again like he was remembering he could still touch you, still please you.

he stayed inside you for long, lazy minutes, just kissing and whispering how much he loved you, how he’d do anything to make it better. his cock softened but never fully left, and every little shift of your hips made him groan softly, oversensitive and still leaking tiny aftershocks of cum. when he finally felt steady enough, choso pulled out slow with this wet, filthy sound that made both of you shiver. he looked down between your legs and flushed even harder at the sight of his release dripping out of you, thick and creamy, but you just pulled him back down and kissed him until he stopped apologizing.

“let me take care of you now,” he murmured against your mouth, voice still a little hoarse but steadier, that intense devotion burning bright again in his eyes. he slid down your body like a man on a mission, hands parting your thighs wide so he could bury his face between them. his tongue was eager and thorough, licking up every drop of himself mixed with your slick like it was the most intimate thing he’d ever done. he moaned into your pussy, the vibrations making your back arch, and when he sucked your clit between his lips you cried out his name so loud it echoed. choso didn’t stop until you were shaking apart under his mouth, thighs clamped around his head, fingers tangled tight in his hair as you came hard and wet all over his tongue.

only then did he crawl back up, lips shiny and swollen, and press back inside you in one smooth glide. this time he lasted longer—much longer—fucking you with these deep, rolling thrusts that built slow and intense, like he was determined to memorize every inch of how you felt around him. his hips snapped harder when you begged, sweat dripping down his chest onto yours, that broken moan of your name falling from his lips every time your walls fluttered. “like this? tell me, baby—tell me how you want it,” he panted, voice raw, and you guided him with your heels digging into his back, with your nails raking down his shoulders, until he was pounding into you so perfectly it felt like he was made for this, made for you.

you came again around him, clenching so tight he almost lost it a second time, but he held on—teeth gritted, forehead pressed to yours, whispering “i love you i love you i love you” like a prayer until you were both trembling and gasping and he finally spilled deep inside you again, this time on purpose, this time with your name on his tongue and your eyes locked on his.

afterward he collapsed half on top of you, arms wrapped around your waist like he never wanted to let go, face tucked into your neck as he caught his breath. “thank you,” he whispered, still a little embarrassed but mostly just full of this quiet, overwhelming love. “for being patient with me. for letting me be yours like this.” you stroked his hair, kissed the top of his head, and held him tighter, bodies still joined, hearts still racing in perfect sync. “always, choso. you’re mine and i’m yours. every first, every time after. all of it.”

he smiled against your skin then, soft and genuine, the kind of smile that made your chest ache with how much you loved him back. and even though his cheeks were still faintly pink from that first overwhelming rush, he didn’t pull away. he just stayed right there inside you, warm and safe and completely yours, ready to learn every single way to make you feel as good as you made him feel. forever.

[fayelero]

The party at timeskip!denki's apartment was loud, chaotic, and exactly what Class 1-A needed after everything they’d been through. Years had passed since U.A.—everyone was in their early twenties now, pro heroes scraping by on patrol schedules and agency gigs—but tonight the old crew had crammed into his place with cheap vodka, louder music, and the kind of reckless energy that only came from people who’d once fought for their lives together.

You’d been nursing the same cup for an hour, half-listening to Mina and Jiro argue about whose turn it was to do karaoke, while your eyes kept drifting toward Denki. He was laughing in the middle of the living room, arm slung around his girlfriend’s waist. She was pretty—sharp cheekbones, designer top—but her laugh was brittle and her eyes always narrowed when they landed on you. She’d made a few snide comments already tonight, little digs about how “quiet” you were being, how you always seemed to hover near Denki “like a lost puppy.” Bitch.

You needed air. And your coat. And the cigarette you’d stashed in the pocket because you knew she’d pitch a fit if she saw you smoking. Denki had tossed everyone’s jackets into his bedroom earlier to keep the main area clear, so you slipped down the hallway, weaving past a very drunk Kirishima trying to arm-wrestle Sero.

His room was dim, lit only by the string lights he still hadn’t taken down from last Christmas. Coats were piled on the bed like a fabric mountain. You dug through them until your fingers closed around your jacket, then fished out the half-crumpled pack and lighter. The window slid open easily; cool night air rushed in, carrying distant city traffic. You lit up, took a long drag, and let the smoke curl out into the darkness.

The door clicked behind you.

“Shit—sorry,” Denki’s voice was a little slurry, surprised. “Didn’t know anyone was in here.”

You glanced over your shoulder. He stood in the doorway, golden hair messy from the party, black button-up half-untucked. His cheeks were flushed from drinking. When he saw the cigarette, his eyebrows rose, then he shut the door softly behind him and leaned against it.

“My girlfriend’s been… a lot tonight,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry. She gets weird when she drinks. Especially around you.”

You shrugged, turning back to the window so he wouldn’t see how your pulse jumped just from him being in the same room. “It’s whatever. She doesn’t like me.”

“She doesn’t like anyone who looks at me longer than three seconds,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. He crossed the room and stopped beside you, close enough that you could smell his cologne mixed with beer. “Can I…?” He gestured at the cigarette.

You handed it over. He took a drag, exhaled toward the sky, then passed it back. For a while you just shared it in silence, shoulders brushing every time one of you shifted.

Then the words started spilling.

“You remember that time in first year when I short-circuited during training and fried my own brain?” he asked, grinning crookedly. “You brought me water and sat with me till I stopped seeing double.”

You laughed softly. “You kept calling me ‘angel with the good vibes.’ Thought you were concussed.”

“I wasn’t.” His voice dropped. “You’ve always been nice to me. Even when I was an idiot.”

The cigarette passed back and forth. The alcohol made everything feel loose and warm. You told him about the stupid crush you’d had since the sports festival—how you used to watch him charge up and think he looked like lightning made human. He admitted he’d noticed you too, back then, but things just… happened with his girlfriend after graduation.

“Life gets messy,” he said, eyes half-lidded as he watched the smoke drift. “You get busy. You settle. Then you see someone from the old days and it’s like… fuck, why didn’t I—” He cut himself off, laughing under his breath. “Ignore me. I’m wasted.”

You were both wasted. The conversation turned ridiculous—arguing about which hero ranking was more bullshit, reenacting Bakugo’s explosion noises, debating whether Pikachu or actual electricity quirks were superior. Your shoulders touched. Then your hips. You leaned into each other naturally, like magnets that had waited years to snap together.

Denki’s breathing had changed. Shallower. Every time you laughed and your chest brushed his arm, his fingers flexed against the windowsill like he was fighting the urge to touch you. You could feel the heat rolling off him, the tension in his thighs when he shifted his weight. He kept adjusting his stance, trying to hide the growing bulge straining against his jeans, but you noticed. God, you noticed.

He was hard. Painfully so. And he was losing the battle to hide it.

You finished the cigarette, flicking the butt out the window. The silence stretched, heavy with everything unsaid.

Then Denki turned, cupped your face with both hands, and kissed you.

It wasn’t gentle. It was months—no, years—of pent-up want crashing down. His mouth was hot, tasting like smoke and vodka, tongue sliding against yours with desperate hunger. You moaned into it, fingers fisting his shirt. He walked you backward until your knees hit the bed and you both tumbled onto the pile of coats.

You ended up on top, straddling his hips. Denki groaned loud when your weight settled over the hard line of his cock, the friction immediate and delicious even through layers of denim and your skirt.

“Fuck—wait—” you panted against his lips.

He panted against your lips, eyes glassy with lust and alcohol. “Clothes stay on. If clothes stay on… it’s not cheating, right?”

You rolled your hips experimentally, grinding down on him. The thick ridge of his erection dragged right against your clothed pussy, sending sparks up your spine. “Y-yeah...clothes on,” you agreed breathlessly. “Just… this.”

Denki’s head fell back against the coats, a wrecked sound escaping him. “Yeah. Just this. God, you feel so good.”

You started moving. Slow at first, rocking your hips in long, deliberate drags that rubbed your clit along his clothed cock over and over. The denim was rough, the heat of him insane. Every roll made the fabric catch and pull deliciously. Denki’s hands flew to your waist, gripping hard enough to bruise as he thrust up to meet you.

“Shit—keep doing that,” he gasped. His cheeks were flushed dark, lips parted, eyes locked on where your bodies met. “You’re so wet I can feel it through everything. Fuck, you’re soaked for me.”

You braced your hands on his chest and rode him harder, grinding in tight circles that made his cock twitch and leak inside his jeans. The friction was maddening—too much and not enough. Your skirt rode up around your thighs, but neither of you moved to push it higher. Clothes on. That was the rule.

Denki’s hips snapped up sharply, chasing the pressure. “Been thinking about this… for so long,” he confessed between moans. “Every time she’d bitch at you I just wanted to pull you away and—ngh—do this. Feel how perfect you fit on me.”

You leaned down, kissing him again, tongues messy and desperate while your hips never stopped. The coats beneath you rustled with every thrust. The party noise outside felt a million miles away. It was just his ragged breathing, your soft whimpers, the wet drag of fabric on fabric, the obscene outline of his hard cock pressing up into your panties with every roll.

He sat up halfway, one arm wrapping around your back to pull you tighter against him. The new angle made his bulge grind directly against your swollen clit and you cried out, burying your face in his neck.

“Kaminari—”

“I know, I know,” he groaned, voice cracking. He was thrusting faster now, almost frantic, chasing the edge while still fully dressed. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop. You’re gonna make me come like this—fuck, I’m so close already.”

You rode him harder, grinding down with filthy rolls of your hips, feeling every inch of his throbbing length through his jeans. His hands slid down to grip your ass, guiding you, squeezing, pulling you down onto him with each upward buck. Sweat was starting to bead on his forehead. His golden eyes were blown wide, pupils huge.

“Clothes on,” he kept repeating like a mantra, half-laughing, half-desperate. “It’s not cheating if clothes stay on. We’re just… dry humping. Just friends dry humping. Really hard. Really fucking good—ahh, shit—”

Your thighs started trembling. The pressure was building fast, tight and electric in your core. Every drag against his cock sent you higher. You could feel how soaked your panties were, how the wetness was probably starting to mark his jeans, but neither of you cared.

Denki’s head tipped back, mouth open in a silent moan as his hips stuttered. “I’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna come in my pants like a fucking teenager if you keep—yes, right there—”

You ground down hard, circling your hips, and that was it. Denki came with a choked groan, body jerking beneath you as he spilled hot and messy inside his jeans. You felt the pulses, the way his cock throbbed and twitched against your clit even through the fabric. The sight and feel of him falling apart pushed you over the edge right after—your orgasm crashing through you in sharp, shuddering waves while you rode out every last spark against his spent cock.

You collapsed onto his chest, both of you panting, hearts hammering. His arms wrapped around you loosely, fingers tracing lazy circles on your back.

For a long minute there was only heavy breathing and the distant thump of music.

Then Denki laughed softly, a little dazed. “Clothes stayed on.”

You smiled against his neck. “Definitely not cheating.”

He kissed the top of your head, still breathing hard. “We should… probably get back out there before someone notices we’re both gone.”

Neither of you moved for a long time.

[fayelero]

will we be getting a part 2 to one of your works for naoya where he realizes he is in love with us or is it too ooc for him?

love how you write!

I’d like to, but yeah I’m kinda scared I’d get hated for doing too oc :( but if you ask, that means you want it so I’ll think about it !!!

Btw thank you babe ily 🫰

[fayelero]

bakugo katsuki's body was a goddamn weapon—chiseled like it had been carved straight out of some over-the-top superhero manga and dropped into your bed just to ruin you. Broad shoulders tapering into a narrow, cut waist. Abs so sharply defined they looked photoshopped, each ridge flexing and rippling under sweat-slick skin every time he moved. Veins stood out along his forearms, his biceps, even that ridiculous V-line that disappeared into his boxers like it was daring you to follow. And his cock—thick, heavy, flushed angry red at the tip with that slight upward curve that always hit exactly where you needed it—stood proud against his abs while you straddled him.

You were already soaked just from looking.

“Quit fuckin’ starin’ and move, princess,” Bakugo growled, voice low and rough, scarred hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks. His crimson eyes burned up at you, pupils blown wide with lust. “You wanted to ride me, so fuckin’ ride.”

You bit your lip, heart hammering as you wrapped your fingers around his thick base and lined him up. The blunt head of his cock nudged your dripping entrance, slick sounds already filling the room as your pussy fluttered around nothing, aching to be filled. Slowly, you sank down.

“Fuuuuck—” you moaned, long and broken, as inch after thick inch stretched you open. He was so big it always burned just a little at first, that delicious sting melting into pure mind-numbing pleasure once he bottomed out. Your ass finally settled flush against his thighs, his heavy balls pressed tight to your skin.

Bakugo’s abs clenched visibly beneath you, that perfect eight-pack tightening as he fought the urge to buck up immediately. “Shit, look at you,” he rasped, one hand sliding up your stomach to palm your tit, thumb flicking roughly over your nipple. “Takin’ all of me like a good little slut. That pussy’s grippin’ me so fuckin’ tight already.”

You braced your hands on his rock-hard chest, nails digging into the dense muscle, and started to move. Rolling your hips in slow, filthy circles at first, grinding your clit against his pelvis every time you dropped down. The wet, obscene squelch of your cunt swallowing his cock echoed between you. Up and down, up and down—your tits bouncing with every motion while you drank in the sight of him.

God, his body. Every ridge of those abs glistened with sweat. His pecs flexed when he squeezed your waist. The way his biceps bulged as he held you, veins popping like cords under his skin. You leaned forward, dragging your tongue along the deep groove between his abs, tasting salt and pure Katsuki. He groaned, deep and guttural, hips twitching.

“Yeah? You like ridin’ this dick while you eye-fuck my body, huh?” His voice was pure gravel. “Greedy fuckin’ girl. Keep bouncin’ then. Show me how bad you want it.”

You did. Faster now. Your ass clapped against his powerful thighs with every drop, wet smacks growing louder as your juices coated his cock and dripped down his balls. You rode him like you were starving for it—hips snapping, back arching, head thrown back so your moans spilled freely.

“Ka—Katsuki—fuck, you’re so deep,” you whimpered, grinding down hard, feeling that curved tip bully your cervix on every thrust. Your walls fluttered and clenched around his girth, milking him, trying to pull him even deeper.

Bakugo’s jaw clenched, teeth bared. He looked feral underneath you—blond hair messy, sweat sliding down his temples, that scar on his cheek pulled tight. One of his hands cracked against your ass with a sharp slap, the sting blooming hot across your skin.

“Harder,” he snarled. “Fuckin’ use me. I wanna feel this sloppy cunt creamin’ all over my dick.”

You obeyed, bouncing faster, harder. Your thighs burned but you didn’t care. The wet pap-pap-pap of flesh on flesh mixed with your desperate moans and his low grunts. Every time you slammed down, his heavy balls slapped your ass and his cock kissed that spongy spot inside you that made stars explode behind your eyes.

But you knew how this always ended.

Bakugo’s patience was legendary—until it wasn’t.

His hands suddenly locked onto your hips like iron clamps. Crimson eyes flashed with that dangerous, explosive hunger.

“Enough,” he growled.

In one brutal motion he flipped you, slamming your back into the mattress without ever pulling out. The change in angle made you scream—his cock drove even deeper, pressing right against your cervix. Before you could even catch your breath he was pounding into you.

Rough. Relentless. Animalistic.

“Fuuuuck—yes!” you cried, legs wrapping around his narrow waist as he railed you into the sheets. His hips snapped forward with terrifying power, that perfect muscular ass flexing with every savage thrust. The bed creaked violently. Headboard slammed the wall. Your tits bounced wildly with the force of it.

Bakugo hovered over you, one forearm braced beside your head, the other hand fisting the sheets near your face. Every muscle in his torso stood out in stark relief—abs contracting, obliques rippling, shoulders and arms bulging as he fucked you like he was trying to break you in half.

“Thought you could ride me all night, huh?” he panted against your ear, voice wrecked. “Nah. This pussy belongs to me. Gonna fuck it till you can’t walk.”

He angled his hips and drove upward, that perfect curve dragging right over your g-spot on every brutal stroke. The wet, filthy sounds were deafening—your cunt gushing around him, creamy white ring forming at the base of his cock.

“Shit—look at that,” he groaned, glancing down between your bodies. “Makin’ such a mess on my dick. Greedy little hole suckin’ me in like it never wants me to leave.”

You were babbling, incoherent. “Katsuki—Katsuki—oh my god—right there—don’t stop—please—”

He didn’t. He fucked you harder. Deeper. One hand slid between you, thumb pressing firm circles on your swollen clit while his cock rearranged your insides. Your back arched clean off the bed, nails raking down his back hard enough to leave red lines across those sculpted muscles.

His pace turned punishing. Short, brutal snaps of his hips that punched the air out of your lungs. Sweat dripped from his chest onto yours. His balls slapped loudly against your soaked ass. The slap of skin on skin was constant, filthy, perfect.

“Gonna cum,” you sobbed, walls clamping down around his thick length like a vice. “Katsuki—fuck—I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he snarled, teeth sinking into your shoulder. “Cum on my cock like the slutty little girlfriend you are. Milk me dry.”

Your orgasm hit like a detonation. You screamed his name, vision whiting out as your pussy spasmed violently around him, gushing slick all over his thrusting cock. Your legs shook uncontrollably, toes curling.

Bakugo growled like a beast, hips stuttering for half a second before he doubled down. He fucked you straight through it, chasing his own release with reckless, powerful strokes.

“Fuck—gonna fill you up,” he rasped, voice hoarse. “Gonna pump this tight cunt so full of my cum it’ll be leakin’ out for days.”

His thrusts grew erratic, wild. Then he buried himself to the hilt and came with a guttural groan that vibrated through his chest. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded your insides, pulse after pulse, so much it immediately started leaking out around his cock. He kept grinding deep, hips rolling lazily as he emptied himself, making sure every drop stayed buried as deep as possible.

“Mine,” he panted against your neck, still twitching inside you. “All fuckin’ mine.”

You whimpered softly, body limp and trembling beneath his solid, sweat-slick weight. His muscles still flexed and relaxed with every aftershock, that insane physique pressed flush to your softer curves.

After a long moment he lifted his head, crimson eyes half-lidded and satisfied. A lazy, cocky smirk tugged at his lips.

“Tch. Told you it always ends like this,” he murmured, pressing a surprisingly soft kiss to your jaw before nipping it. “Now be a good girl and keep all that cum inside while I catch my breath… ‘cause I’m nowhere near done with you tonight.”

His hand slid down, two thick fingers pushing his leaking cum back into your oversensitive pussy, making you jolt and moan again.

“Gonna fuck you till morning, princess. Better get comfortable.”

[fayelero]

FATHERHOOD VS PUSSY ?

-> blue balls over. now bend over.

ft. toji, gojo, higuruma, choso, nanami

cw. mdni. established relationship, unprotected sex, daddy kink, mommy kink, creampie kink, overstimulation, edging (higuruma, gojo), light bondage (nanami), degradation, hate sex, spanking, age gap (higuruma)

TOJI FUSHIGURO

The bedroom was dim, just the low glow of the baby monitor casting flickering blue shadows across the walls. It had been exactly thirty-one days. Thirty-one fucking days since Toji had been inside you, and every single one of them had clawed at him like a curse he couldn’t exorcise. You were the mother of his kids—his pretty little wife, the one who’d given him Megumi and then another on the way—and he loved you for it. But goddamn, the way Megumi had been calling for you every single night lately? The toddler’s tiny voice cracking through the monitor at the worst possible moments? Toji was losing his mind. Jealous. Actually jealous of his own three-year-old son.

Tonight, though… tonight the house was finally quiet.

You’d barely made it through the door after putting Megumi down for the third time when Toji’s big hands were on you. He didn’t even let you finish changing out of the oversized t-shirt you wore to bed. He just shoved you face-down onto the mattress, that dingy sage comforter bunching up under your tits as he yanked your panties down your thighs in one rough tug.

“C’mon, pretty thing,” he growled, voice low and mean, the same gravelly tone he used when he was done pretending to be patient. “Let’s see that ass. Show me what it’s fuckin’ made of after a whole goddamn month of blue-balling your husband.”

You whimpered, already arching for him like muscle memory, because your body remembered exactly who it belonged to. Toji’s hands—scarred, calloused, huge—gripped your hips hard enough to bruise as he freed himself from his sweats. His cock was already leaking, thick and heavy, the fat vein along the underside pulsing with a month’s worth of pent-up frustration. He didn’t tease. He didn’t ease in. He just lined up and slammed home in one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt until his heavy balls smacked wetly against your clit.

“Fuuuck,” he hissed through his teeth, head falling back. Your pussy was so tight, so fucking wet already just from the way he’d manhandled you, that it made his eyes roll. “Still grippin’ me like you missed this dick, huh? Like you didn’t spend every night cock-blocking me for that little brat.”

You moaned into the pillow, the stretch burning so good it made your toes curl. “Toji—baby—wait—”

“Nah.” His palm cracked down on your ass, the sound sharp and filthy. “You had your chance to wait. Every time I tried to get between these thighs, Megumi started cryin’ like the world was ending. ‘Mommy, mommy!’” He mocked the toddler’s voice in a low snarl, hips already snapping forward in short, punishing thrusts that made your whole body jolt. “Well guess what, mommy? Daddy’s had enough.”

He was pissed. You could feel it in every ruthless drag of his cock—thick, veiny, curved just right to bully that spongy spot inside you over and over. The wet, obscene squelch of your cunt swallowing him echoed through the room, louder than the low hum of the baby monitor on the nightstand. Toji’s tank top was already sticking to his abs, the fabric dark with sweat as he fucked you like he hated you. Like he was punishing you for every interrupted night, every time you’d slipped out of bed to soothe your son instead of letting him wreck you.

“Mngh—Toji—slow down—” Your voice cracked, but your hips pushed back anyway, greedy for more even as you tried to sound like you meant it.

“Slow down?” He laughed, dark and ugly, and slammed in so deep his tip kissed your cervix with a wet kiss that made your eyes cross. “You want slow? After you left me walkin’ around this house with blue balls for a month? Nah, baby. You’re gonna take every inch like the good little cumslut you are.”

He folded over you, chest pressed to your back, one massive hand fisting the back of your neck to shove your face harder into the mattress. The other hand snaked underneath you, two thick fingers rubbing messy circles over your swollen clit while his cock pistoned in and out, in and out, the lewd pap-pap-pap of his hips against your ass filling the room. Your pussy fluttered around him, already dripping down his balls, coating the coarse dark hair at his base.

“Fuckin’ listen to her,” he grunted, voice right against your ear. “So sloppy for me already. Missed this dick that bad, huh? Missed getting fucked stupid by your husband while our kid’s sleepin’ down the hall?”

You could only sob out a broken moan, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from how deep he was hitting, how full you felt. He was relentless—pulling out until just the fat, leaking tip stretched your entrance, then slamming back in so hard the headboard knocked against the wall. His balls slapped your clit with every thrust, the wet smack-smack-smack obscene and filthy.

First orgasm hit you like a freight train. Your whole body locked up, pussy clamping down on his cock so hard he actually snarled, hips stuttering for half a second before he fucked you right through it.

“That’s it—cum on it, mommy. Cum all over daddy’s cock like you haven’t had it in weeks.”

You wailed, thighs shaking, but he didn’t stop. He just kept pounding, harder, meaner, the wet sounds of your creaming cunt getting louder as he chased his own frustration out on your body.

Second orgasm came faster. Your eyes rolled back, tongue lolling out against the pillow as your pussy gushed around him, squirting messily down his thighs and soaking the sheets. Toji groaned, low and guttural, but he still didn’t slow down.

You blinked through the haze, vision blurry, and your eyes caught the baby monitor screen on the nightstand.

Megumi.

Your three-year-old was sitting up in his crib, little face scrunched up, tiny fists rubbing at his eyes. He looked like he was having a nightmare—whimpering softly, the sound crackling through the monitor just loud enough to cut through the filthy slap of skin on skin.

“T-Toji—stop—Megumi’s—” You tried to push up, tried to reach for the monitor, panic cutting through the pleasure like ice water. “He’s having a bad dream—baby, please—”

Toji’s hand shot out and pinned your wrist to the mattress, his hips never faltering. If anything, they got meaner—deeper, harder, the lewd curve of his cock dragging right over that spot that made your brain short-circuit.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growled, voice pure venom and lust. “You think I’m stopping now? After a month of you choosing him over this pussy? Over me?” He leaned down, teeth scraping your ear as he fucked you even stupider, cock bullying so deep you swore you felt it in your throat. “Nah. You’re gonna stay right here and take this dick until I’m done. Until this womb’s so full you can’t even walk to his room without leaking me down your thighs.”

You sobbed, overwhelmed, pleasure and guilt crashing together as Megumi’s little whimpers filtered through the monitor. But Toji just reached over with his free hand and turned the volume down—not off, just low enough that the cries became background noise to the wet, brutal sounds of him ruining you.

“Beg for it,” he snarled, slowing his thrusts just enough to grind deep, letting you feel every inch, every vein, every throb. “Beg for daddy’s cock, mommy. Tell me you need it more than he does right now.”

You were crying, drooling, pussy clenching helplessly around him as another orgasm threatened to rip through you. “P-please—Toji—fuck—don’t stop—need it—need you—”

“Louder.” He spanked your ass hard, then gripped both cheeks and spread you open so he could watch his thick cock disappear inside your sloppy hole. “Say it like you mean it. Say ‘fuck me harder, daddy, I’m your stupid little mommy who forgot who she belongs to.’”

You broke. “Fuck me harder, daddy—please—I’m your stupid little mommy—forgot who I belong to—please, Toji, fill me up—cum in me—make me forget everything but your cock—”

He snarled in satisfaction and let go.

His hips snapped forward like a machine, brutal and unforgiving, the wet slap of his pelvis against your ass loud enough to drown out the monitor completely. He fucked you so deep, so fast, that your vision whited out. You came again—third time, harder than the others—squirting messily around his cock while he kept pounding through it, grunting like an animal.

“Atta girl. That’s my good fuckin’ mommy. Squeezin’ me so tight—gonna knock you up again just to remind you who put that baby in you in the first place.”

His rhythm faltered, hips stuttering as his cock swelled impossibly thicker. He buried himself to the hilt, grinding against your cervix as the first thick rope of cum flooded you. Then another. And another. Hot, heavy spurts that painted your insides white, so much it started leaking out around his cock despite how tightly you were stretched around him.

Toji didn’t pull out. He just collapsed over you, heavy and sweaty, still buried deep as he panted against your neck. His hand reached over lazily and turned the baby monitor volume back up.

Megumi had settled. The little whimpers had stopped; he was curled up again, breathing steady.

Toji huffed a dark, satisfied laugh against your skin, slowly grinding his softening cock through the mess he’d made.

“See? Kid’s fine. Daddy took care of mommy real good.” He nipped at your shoulder, voice dropping into that low, filthy drawl again. “Now keep that ass up. I’m nowhere near done with you tonight. Gonna fuck you full until you can’t even remember your own name—let alone his.”

He pulled out with a wet pop, cum immediately gushing out of your ruined pussy. You whimpered at the loss, but Toji just flipped you onto your back, shoved your thighs open wide, and buried his face between them.

“Gonna clean this pretty cunt up first,” he mumbled against your swollen folds, tongue dragging through the creamy mess he’d left behind. “Then I’m fucking it again. And again. Until you remember exactly who this pussy belongs to, mommy.”

You moaned, fingers threading through his messy dark hair as he ate you like a starving man—like he’d been waiting thirty-one days just for this.

And the baby monitor stayed quiet the rest of the night.

GOJO SATORU

The bedroom was bathed in that soft golden lamplight you both liked, the kind that made Gojo’s pale skin look almost unreal. Two fucking months. Nearly sixty days of blue-balled torture, and Satoru Gojo—the strongest, the cockiest, the man who usually had you bent over every surface—was losing his goddamn mind. Every single night the toddler’s tiny whimpers crackled through the baby monitor, you were up like a shot. “Mama’s coming, baby,” you’d whisper, slipping out of bed before Gojo could even grab your wrist. Overprotective didn’t even cover it. You were a helicopter mom on steroids, and he was jealous. Actually jealous of his own kid.

But tonight… tonight he’d been patient. Sweet, even.

You were on your back in the middle of the massive bed, legs spread around his hips as he kissed you deep and slow, tongue sliding against yours like he was savoring every second. His long fingers—those stupidly pretty, calloused fingers—were between your thighs, stroking your slick pussy with lazy, gentle circles. Two digits gliding up and down your folds, occasionally dipping just the tips inside to tease your entrance before pulling back to rub your swollen clit. He was rock-hard against your thigh, thick and leaking, but he hadn’t rushed. Not yet.

“Missed this so much, baby,” he murmured against your lips, voice low and husky, that usual playful lilt softened by raw need. “Missed my pretty wife’s tight little cunt. Been so good for me, holding out like this…”

You whimpered into his mouth, hips rolling gently against his hand as he dipped two fingers deeper, curling them just right against that spongy spot inside you. He was being so sweet tonight—kissing down your neck, sucking lightly on your throat, thumb circling your clit while his fingers pumped slow and deep. Your slick coated his palm, the wet sounds soft and intimate.

Then—

“Mama…”

The baby monitor crackled to life. Just a sleepy little mumble. Your eyes snapped open, body already tensing to get up.

Gojo froze.

You started to push yourself up. “Satoru, he—”

He moved like lightning.

One big hand slammed into your chest and shoved you back down hard against the cushions, the mattress dipping under the force. His other hand snatched the baby monitor off the nightstand and shoved the glowing screen right in front of your face.

“Look,” he growled, voice dropping from sweet to dangerous in a heartbeat. “He’s fucking asleep, mommy. See that? Eyes closed. Not crying. Not even moving. Just said your name in his sleep like the little cock-block he is.”

His eyes—those brilliant, icy blue eyes—were dark now, pupils blown wide with fury and months of frustration. The gentle stroking between your legs stopped. He yanked his fingers out of you with a wet pop, making you gasp.

“Satoru—wait—”

“No.” He grabbed your thighs and shoved them wide apart, so wide your hips ached. His massive cock—long, thick, flushed angry red at the tip—slapped heavy against your soaked pussy once, twice, then he lined up and rammed in with one brutal thrust.

“Fuuuuck—!” you screamed, back arching clean off the bed as he bottomed out in a single stroke, his fat cockhead bullying straight into your cervix. He was so deep it hurt in the best way, stretching you open after two months of nothing.

Gojo didn’t give you a second to adjust. He pulled back and slammed in again, harder, the wet slap of his hips against your ass echoing obscenely. “You were gonna run again, weren’t you?” he snarled, folding you in half, knees to your chest as he started pounding you into the mattress. “Gonna leave me with my dick throbbing just because the kid mumbled in his sleep? After two fucking months?”

Each thrust was punishing—deep, mean, relentless. His heavy balls slapped against your ass with every brutal snap of his hips, the lewd pap-pap-pap-pap filling the room alongside your broken moans and his angry grunts. His cock had that perfect upward curve, dragging right over your g-spot on every stroke, bullying it until your eyes rolled back.

“Mngh—Satoru—too deep—slow down—!”

“Slow down?” He laughed, sharp and bitter, and slammed in so hard the headboard cracked against the wall. “You want slow after you’ve been cock-blocking me for sixty goddamn days? Every time I even looked at this pussy, you were already halfway down the hall to ‘check on him.’” He punctuated the words with vicious thrusts, grinding his pelvis against your clit on every inward stroke. “Well guess what, mommy? Tonight you’re not going anywhere. This cunt is mine.”

He grabbed the back of your neck and yanked you into a messy, bruising kiss, teeth clashing as he fucked you stupid. His tongue fucked your mouth in time with his cock destroying your pussy, sloppy and wet and mean. You were creaming around him already, white rings of slick forming at the base of his thick shaft, dripping down to soak the sheets.

First orgasm ripped through you without warning. Your walls clamped down like a vice, gushing around his cock as you wailed into his mouth. Gojo groaned but didn’t slow—he fucked you straight through it, hips pistoning faster, harder, the wet squelching sounds turning filthy.

“That’s one,” he panted against your lips. “Give me another. I want this pussy sobbing for me.”

He pulled out suddenly, flipped you onto your stomach, and shoved your face into the pillows. Ass up, back arched deep, exactly how he liked you. He re-entered in one savage thrust, folding over your back so his chest pressed against you, one hand fisting your hair while the other reached around to rub your clit in tight, mean circles.

“Fuck—Satoru—ahh!” you cried, voice muffled by the pillow as he railed you from behind. His cock was even deeper at this angle, the curved tip kissing your cervix with every brutal plunge. He was so long he made your belly bulge slightly with each thrust—you could feel it when you reached down, the outline of his massive dick ruining you.

“Yeah? Feel that?” He pressed his hand over the bulge, grinding deep. “That’s daddy’s cock owning this womb again. Two months of nothing and you’re still this fucking tight? Greedy little mommy.”

The baby monitor stayed quiet, but Gojo still glared at it like it personally offended him. He reached over and turned the volume all the way down, then spanked your ass hard—once, twice, three times—leaving bright red handprints on your skin.

Second orgasm hit you even harder. Your legs shook violently, pussy squirting messily around his cock as you screamed his name. Gojo snarled in satisfaction, hips stuttering before he doubled down, fucking you through it with short, punishing strokes that made your eyes cross.

“You’re not done,” he growled, voice wrecked. “Not until I’ve filled this sloppy cunt so full you’ll be leaking me for days. Until you remember who the fuck you belong to.”

He pulled out again, flipped you onto your back, and shoved your legs over his shoulders. The new angle let him drive impossibly deeper. His thrusts turned erratic—wild, desperate, angry—his heavy balls tightening as he chased his own release. Sweat dripped from his white hair onto your tits, his abs flexing with every savage snap of his hips.

“Beg for it,” he demanded, thumb pressing hard on your clit. “Beg daddy to cum in you. Tell me you’re sorry for neglecting this dick.”

“I’m sorry—fuck—Satoru—daddy—please cum in me—fill me up—please—!”

That broke him.

Gojo buried himself to the hilt with a guttural moan, cock throbbing violently as thick, hot ropes of cum flooded your womb. Pulse after pulse, so much it immediately started leaking out around his shaft, creamy white mixing with your slick and dripping down your ass. He kept grinding through it, milking every last drop into you, eyes half-lidded in feral bliss.

But he wasn’t done.

Even as he softened slightly, he stayed buried deep, slowly rolling his hips to push his cum deeper. His hand moved back to your clit, rubbing tight circles again.

“Third one,” he murmured, voice dark. “You’re gonna cum on my cock while it’s still stuffed full of my load. Then I’m fucking you again. All night, mommy. Until that monitor stays quiet and you can’t even walk tomorrow.”

You whimpered, overstimulated and overwhelmed, but your hips still rolled weakly against him, pussy fluttering around his spent cock as another orgasm started building.

Gojo leaned down, biting your bottom lip hard enough to sting.

“That’s my good girl. Now take the rest like you owe me two months of this pussy.”

And he started moving again—slow at first, then faster, meaner, ready to ruin you until sunrise. The baby monitor stayed silent on the nightstand, but Gojo’s filthy groans and the wet, relentless slap of skin on skin filled the room for hours.

He was finally collecting what was his.

HIGURUMA HIROMI

The bedroom door clicked shut behind Higuruma with a soft, final sound that felt louder than it should. One whole month. Thirty agonizing nights of your five-year-old son slipping into your bed after another nightmare, tiny body wedging itself right between you and your husband like a living cock-block. Every time things got heated—every single time Hiromi’s hands had finally slid under your shirt, his mouth on your neck, cock already straining against his slacks—there’d be that knock. Or the creak of the door. Or the sleepy little voice calling “Mama…” right as your panties were about to come off.

He was ten years older than you, patient by nature, but even Hiromi Higuruma had his limits. Tonight, though, he’d played dirty.

After you’d tucked your son in, kissed his forehead, and murmured sweet dreams, Hiromi had lingered in the doorway.

“Hey, kiddo,” he’d said, voice low and calm like always. “Just saying… if you stay in your own bed all night tonight, I’ll take you to the amusement park tomorrow. The big one. All the rides you want.”

Your son’s eyes had gone wide, a squeal ripping out of him. “Yes! Please, Dad!”

Good.

Now the house was quiet. No footsteps in the hall. No baby monitor crackling with nightmares. Just the two of you.

Hiromi didn’t waste a second.

The moment the bedroom door locked, he was on you—tall frame crowding you back against the bed until your knees hit the mattress. His suit jacket was already discarded, tie loosened, the top buttons of his shirt open to reveal the sharp line of his collarbone. At thirty-eight, he still had that lean, powerful build, shoulders broad from years of sorcery work, hands veined and strong as they grabbed your waist and tossed you onto the bed like you weighed nothing.

“You’ve been teasing me for thirty fucking nights, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice deceptively calm, the way it got right before he unraveled. “Every time I finally get my mouth on that pretty pussy, our son decides he needs Mommy more. I’m done being patient.”

He climbed over you, caging you in, and kissed you hard—deep, hungry, tongue sliding against yours with ten years of experience and a month of pure frustration. His hand shoved your nightdress up to your waist, fingers immediately finding your bare cunt. You weren’t wearing panties. You’d hoped. He groaned into your mouth when he felt how wet you already were.

“Already soaked for me? After edging your poor husband for a month?” Two thick fingers pushed inside you without warning, curling instantly against that spot that made your back arch. “Look at you. My pretty young wife… dripping like a slut just from a kiss.”

You moaned, hips rolling against his hand as he pumped his fingers slow and deep, thumb circling your swollen clit with maddening precision. He knew your body better than you did. He edged you beautifully—bringing you right to the brink with those long, skilled fingers, then slowing down the second your walls started fluttering. Over and over.

“Daddy—” The word slipped out, breathy and desperate. You only called him that when you were losing your mind.

Hiromi’s eyes darkened behind his glasses. He pulled his fingers out, ignoring your whine, and stripped. Shirt tossed aside, pants shoved down just enough to free his cock—long, thick, the head already flushed dark and leaking precum. Veins stood out along the shaft, pulsing with need.

He grabbed your thighs and spread you open obscenely wide, then dragged the fat head of his cock through your slick folds, teasing your entrance, bumping your clit, never pushing in.

“You want it?” he asked, voice low and rough. “After making me wait a month? Beg, baby. Call me Daddy and beg properly.”

“Please, Daddy,” you whimpered, trying to rock down onto him. “Please fuck me— I need your cock, been so empty—”

He pushed in halfway, stretching you open, then stopped. Just the thick head and a few inches, letting you feel the burn.

“Not good enough.” He rocked shallowly, only giving you that little bit, thumb still torturing your clit. “Tell me how sorry you are for letting our son cock-block me every night.”

“I’m sorry—fuck—Daddy, I’m so sorry—please, I need all of it—”

He slammed in to the hilt in one brutal thrust.

You screamed, back bowing clean off the bed as his cock bottomed out, pressing hard against your cervix. He was so deep it made your belly bulge faintly, and Hiromi pressed a hand there, feeling it.

“That’s right,” he growled, starting to fuck you in long, punishing strokes. “Take every inch, sweetheart. This pussy belongs to Daddy. Not to midnight cuddles with our son.”

The wet slap of his hips against your ass filled the room—filthy, loud, obscene. He fucked you like he’d been holding back for years, not just a month. Deep, hard, relentless. Every thrust dragged his thick cock over that perfect spot inside you until you were seeing stars.

He edged you mercilessly.

Right when your walls started clamping down, orgasm so close you could taste it, he pulled out completely, leaving you empty and clenching around nothing. Then he’d flip you—onto your stomach, ass up, and eat your pussy from behind like a starving man. Tongue fucking into you, lips sucking your clit, scar on his lip rubbing deliciously against your folds. He’d bring you right to the edge again, then stop. Flip you back. Slide back inside. Fuck you stupid for a few minutes, then pull out again.

“Daddy—please—please let me cum—” you sobbed the fourth time he denied you, tears streaming down your face, pussy swollen and drooling all over the sheets. “I can’t— I need it— been so good—”

Hiromi chuckled darkly, sweat dripping from his brow as he stroked his glistening cock over your trembling body. “You think you’ve been good? Thirty nights, baby. Thirty nights I went to sleep hard as a rock because you chose him over me.”

He shoved back in, folding you in half, knees by your ears in a mating press. The new angle made him hit even deeper, cock bullying your cervix with every savage snap of his hips. His heavy balls slapped wetly against your ass, the lewd pap-pap-pap-pap mixing with your broken cries.

“Call me Daddy again,” he demanded, grinding deep, pelvis rubbing your clit on every thrust. “Tell me who this womb belongs to.”

“Daddy—fuck—Daddy, it’s yours—my pussy is yours—please cum in me—fill me up—”

He fucked you harder, pace brutal, glasses slightly fogged. The headboard slammed against the wall. Your tits bounced with every thrust. You were creaming around his cock, white rings coating the base, dripping down to soak his balls.

When he finally let you cum, it shattered you.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave—walls clamping down violently, squirting messily around his cock as you screamed his name. Hiromi groaned, fucking you straight through it, prolonging it until you were shaking and sobbing.

Only then did he let himself go.

He buried himself to the hilt and came with a low, guttural moan, thick ropes of hot cum flooding your womb. Pulse after pulse, so much it immediately started leaking out around his cock, creamy and obscene. He kept grinding through his orgasm, pushing it deeper, making sure every drop stayed inside his pretty young wife.

But he didn’t pull out.

Instead, he flipped you again, this time onto your side, spooning behind you. One arm wrapped around your waist, the other hand reaching down to lazily play with your oversensitive clit while his cock—still hard, still leaking—started moving again in slow, deep rolls.

“First round was for me,” he murmured against your ear, voice wrecked but satisfied. “Now we’re going to take our time. I’m edging this perfect cunt until sunrise. Until you’re begging Daddy to knock you up again just so you remember who you come home to every night.”

You whimpered, already fluttering around him, hips weakly pushing back.

The house stayed quiet. No knocks. No nightmares.

Just the wet, filthy sounds of Hiromi Higuruma finally claiming his wife—long, detailed, and intensely—until the sheets were ruined and you couldn’t remember anything but his name.

CHOSO KAMO

The bedroom was thick with tension, the kind that had been simmering for three long, agonizing months. Three months since Choso had last been inside you. Three months of him biting his tongue, jerking off quietly in the shower so he wouldn’t “annoy” you, telling himself it was fine—your son needed you more right now. The toddler had been going through a brutal phase: night terrors, separation anxiety, crawling into your bed every single night like a tiny, unintentional cock-block. Choso loved the kid. He really did. But fuck, he was only human. And his cock had been aching for his pretty wife for so damn long he was starting to lose his mind.

Tonight, though, you were the one who snapped.

You’d put your son down after another hour of rocking and stories, finally closing the nursery door with a soft click. When you stepped back into the master bedroom, Choso was already in bed—shirtless, dark hair messy, sweatpants doing nothing to hide the thick, heavy outline of his neglected cock. He looked up at you with those tired, blood-red eyes, soft and patient like always, ready to just hold you and fall asleep.

But you were done waiting.

You crawled onto the bed without a word, shoving the blankets down and yanking his sweatpants low enough to free his cock. It sprang up, thick and veiny, the flushed head already glistening with precum after months of nothing. Choso’s breath hitched.

“Baby— you don’t have to—”

“Shut up, Choso.” Your voice was husky, needy. You wrapped both hands around his massive length—still not enough to fully circle it—and leaned down, dragging your tongue slowly up the underside from base to tip. He groaned, low and broken, hips twitching.

You took him into your mouth like you were starving. The fat head stretched your lips wide as you sank down, tongue swirling, sucking hard. Saliva dripped down his shaft as you bobbed, taking him deeper each time until he bumped the back of your throat. Choso’s hand fisted the sheets, the other gently threading through your hair, not pushing—just holding on for dear life.

“F-fuck… so warm… your mouth—ahh—” His voice cracked, thighs trembling. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking him messily, gagging softly when you forced more of his girth down your throat. The wet, obscene gluck-gluck-gluck sounds filled the room as you worshipped every inch—licking the thick veins, sucking on his heavy balls, then diving back down until your nose pressed against his pelvis.

Choso was panting, muscles tight, trying so hard not to thrust up into your throat. “Baby… gonna cum if you keep—ngh—”

You pulled off with a wet pop, strings of spit connecting your swollen lips to his cock. “Not yet.” You stripped fast—nightdress tossed aside, panties soaked and flung across the room. Climbing on top of him, you straddled his hips, gripping his throbbing cock and rubbing the fat head through your dripping folds.

You were soaked. Three months of frustration had left you aching and empty, pussy clenching around nothing as you finally sank down.

The stretch was brutal. Delicious. His cock was so thick it split you open, inch after veiny inch disappearing into your tight heat until you were seated fully on his lap, belly bulging slightly from how deep he was. You both moaned—loud, raw.

“Choso—fuck, you’re so big…” You started riding him immediately, hands braced on his toned chest, rolling your hips in deep, needy circles before bouncing. Your tits swayed with every movement, ass slapping against his thighs. Wet squelching noises echoed as your creamy pussy coated his shaft, dripping down to soak his balls.

Choso’s hands rested on your waist at first, eyes half-lidded in bliss, watching the way your cunt swallowed him over and over. “So tight… missed this pussy so much… been so patient…” His voice was wrecked, low and raspy.

But after three months, patience snapped.

His fingers dug into your hips—strong, bruising grip—and suddenly he took over. He planted his feet on the bed and started thrusting up into you like a man possessed. Hard. Fast. Relentless. You didn’t have to move at all. He was fucking you from below, yanking your hips down to meet every brutal upward snap of his pelvis.

“Choso—ahh! Fuck—slow down—!” you cried, but your walls fluttered greedily around him, gushing fresh slick.

He didn’t slow. Couldn’t.

His hips pistoned up like a machine, cock slamming into your cervix with every thrust. The wet pap-pap-pap-pap of skin on skin was deafening, your ass rippling from the force. He held you in place, forcing you to take every thick inch as he railed you, the curved head of his cock bullying that spongy spot inside you mercilessly.

“Three months,” he growled, voice deeper than you’d ever heard it, eyes glowing with feral need. “Three fucking months I waited. Jerked off thinking about this tight cunt every night while you were busy being Mommy.” He slammed up harder, grinding deep on every thrust so his pelvis rubbed your swollen clit. “Now you’re gonna take it. All of it.”

You could only sob and moan, body jolting violently on top of him. Your hands scrambled for purchase on his chest, nails digging into his skin as he fucked you stupid. The bulge in your lower belly appeared and disappeared with every savage thrust, his cock rearranging your insides.

First orgasm hit you like a freight train. Your pussy clamped down hard, squirting messily around his cock as you screamed, thighs shaking uncontrollably. Choso didn’t stop—he fucked you straight through it, hips snapping even faster, the wet sounds turning sloppier, filthier.

“Good girl—cum on it—fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight—” He flipped you suddenly without pulling out, putting you on your back and folding your legs up to your chest in a deep mating press. The new angle let him drive even deeper, cock kissing your cervix with bruising force on every stroke.

He was panting against your neck, dark hair sticking to his forehead, sweat dripping onto your tits as he pounded you into the mattress. “Gonna fill you up. Been saving so much cum for this pussy. Gonna make it drip out for days.”

You were babbling, incoherent— “Choso—daddy—please—too much—cum in me—!”

That word broke him.

He snarled, hips stuttering before he buried himself to the hilt and came with a guttural moan. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded your womb—pulse after heavy pulse, so much it immediately overflowed, creamy white leaking out around his cock as he kept grinding deep, pushing it further inside you.

But he stayed hard. Still throbbing.

He pulled out only long enough to flip you onto your stomach, ass up, face down. Then he mounted you again, sliding back into your cum-stuffed pussy in one smooth thrust and starting that brutal pace all over again. His hands gripped your ass cheeks, spreading them so he could watch his thick cock disappear into your wrecked hole, cum frothing at the base with every thrust.

“Again,” he growled, voice hoarse. “Ride wasn’t enough. I need to fuck you until you can’t walk. Until the only thing you remember is how deep I can get.”

He railed you like that for what felt like hours—switching positions whenever he felt like it, but always taking control, always making your body move exactly how he wanted. You came again and again—second, third, fourth time—until your voice was raw and your thighs were trembling nonstop. Each orgasm milked more cum out of him until the sheets were absolutely ruined, soaked with sweat, slick, and his seed.

By the time he finally collapsed on top of you, cock still buried deep and twitching with aftershocks, you were a limp, drooling, cum-filled mess. Choso pressed soft kisses to your shoulder, breathing hard, arms wrapped possessively around your waist.

“Never letting it go three months again,” he murmured, voice soft now, but still edged with that raw hunger. “Next time you’re frustrated… you come to me. Understand?”

You could only whimper and nod, pussy still fluttering weakly around his spent cock.

The baby monitor stayed blessedly quiet all night. And Choso finally got to hold his wife the way he’d been aching to—full, claimed, and thoroughly fucked.

NANAMI KENTO

The front door clicked shut with a decisive sound that made you glance up from the kitchen counter. You were still in your loose tank top and panties, hair messy, timer set for when you’d have to leave to pick up your toddler from kindergarten in less than an hour. Nanami wasn’t supposed to be home for hours. Yet there he stood in the doorway—tie already loosened, jacket slung over one arm, blond hair slightly disheveled, jaw tight with something dark and hungry in his usually composed eyes.

“Kento?” you asked, surprised, a small smile forming. “You’re home early—”

He crossed the room in three long strides, dropped his things, and cupped your face with both large hands. The kiss wasn’t soft. It wasn’t the gentle, reverent press of lips you’d grown used to over the years. This was starving—teeth clashing, tongue demanding entrance, a low groan rumbling from his chest as he backed you hard against the counter.

“A year,” he growled against your mouth, voice rougher than you’d ever heard it. “Over a fucking year, sweetheart. I’ve been patient. I was gentle when you were pregnant. I waited when you were exhausted with the newborn. I held back every single night the toddler climbed into our bed.” His hands slid down, gripping your ass and lifting you onto the counter in one smooth motion. “No more.”

Your breath hitched. Nanami had always been soft—slow, deep thrusts, whispered praises, eyes locked on yours while he made love to you like you were something sacred. But the man pinning you now looked like he was about to snap.

He didn’t give you time to respond. He yanked your tank top up and off, mouth latching onto one breast, sucking hard enough to make you moan sharply. His other hand shoved your panties aside, two thick fingers plunging straight into your cunt without warning. You were already wet—just from the intensity rolling off him.

“Kento—ahh—!”

“Quiet.” He curled his fingers, stroking that spot inside you with ruthless precision while his thumb ground against your clit. “You’re going to take everything I give you today. No gentleness. Not after I’ve been walking around with a hard-on for months because my own child cock-blocks me every night.”

He finger-fucked you right there on the counter until your legs shook, then pulled his fingers out and sucked them clean with a dark, satisfied hum. Before you could catch your breath, he threw you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing and carried you to the bedroom.

The door slammed shut. He tossed you onto the bed face-down, the mattress bouncing under you. You barely had time to push up on your elbows before he was behind you, stripping off his shirt and slacks. His cock sprang free—heavy, thick, flushed dark at the tip and already leaking. He’d always been big, but right now he looked almost painfully hard.

“Hands,” he ordered.

You obeyed instinctively, wrists together behind your back. Nanami grabbed his silk tie from the discarded pile of clothes and bound your wrists tightly, knotting it with practiced efficiency. The silk dug into your skin just enough to make your pussy clench.

He shoved a pillow under your hips, forcing your ass up high, back arched deep. Then he gripped your bound wrists with one hand like a handle and lined up.

No teasing. No slow push.

He slammed in to the hilt in one brutal thrust.

“Fuuuuck—” you screamed into the mattress, eyes rolling back. The stretch burned deliciously after so long, his thick cock forcing your walls apart, bottoming out so deep you felt him in your stomach.

Nanami groaned, deep and guttural, hips flush against your ass. “So fucking tight… still my perfect little wife.” He pulled back almost all the way, then drove in again—harder. The wet slap of his hips meeting your ass cracked through the room like a whip.

He set a punishing pace immediately. No warm-up. No mercy. Just raw, animalistic fucking. Each thrust was deep and mean, his heavy balls slapping your clit on every inward stroke. The curved head of his cock battered your cervix relentlessly, the lewd squelch of your soaked pussy echoing obscenely.

“Year and a half of nothing,” he snarled, yanking on your bound wrists to pull you back onto his cock. “You’re going to feel every single day I waited.”

Backshots like this—ass up, face down, wrists tied—had never happened with him. He was relentless. Hips snapping forward with powerful, controlled force, every thrust making your ass ripple and your toes curl. The pillow under your hips kept you perfectly angled for him to destroy that sweet spot inside you over and over.

You came embarrassingly fast—the first orgasm ripping through you without warning, walls clamping down around his thick shaft as you squirted messily around him.

Nanami didn’t slow. He fucked you straight through it, pace brutal, sweat already glistening on his chest.

“That’s one,” he grunted. “Give me another.”

He released your wrists only long enough to flip you onto your back, then immediately tied them to the headboard above your head. Now he could see your face—tears of overstimulation already streaking your cheeks, mouth open in constant moans. He shoved your thighs wide apart and drove back in, folding you nearly in half.

The new angle was even deeper. His pelvis ground against your clit on every savage thrust, cock bullying your insides until you were babbling.

“Kento—too much—fuck—slow—ahh!”

“Not slow,” he growled, leaning down to bite your neck hard enough to leave a mark. “You’re going to cum again on this cock. Then again. Until you remember exactly who this pussy belongs to.”

He pounded you mercilessly, the headboard slamming against the wall with every thrust. Your tits bounced violently. The wet pap-pap-pap-pap of skin on skin mixed with your broken cries and his low, ragged grunts. When your second orgasm hit, you screamed, back arching clean off the bed, pussy gushing around him.

Nanami pulled out suddenly, flipped you back onto your stomach, and yanked your hips up again. He re-entered in one brutal stroke and gave you the best backshots of your life—hips snapping like a machine, one hand fisted in your hair, the other slapping your ass hard enough to leave red handprints.

“Look at this ass,” he groaned, voice wrecked. “Bouncing so pretty for me. Taking my cock like you were made for it.” Another hard slap. “Say it. Tell me who fucks you this good.”

“You—Kento—fuck—only you—daddy—please—”

The honorific made him snarl. He reached around and rubbed your clit in tight, mean circles while railing you even harder. Your third orgasm crashed over you so intensely your vision whited out, body shaking violently as you soaked the sheets and his thighs.

Only then did Nanami let himself go.

He buried himself to the hilt with a deep, broken moan, cock pulsing violently as thick, hot ropes of cum flooded your womb. Pulse after heavy pulse—months of pent-up frustration emptying into you until it overflowed, creamy white leaking out around his shaft and dripping down your thighs.

He didn’t pull out. He kept grinding deep, slow and possessive, pushing his load further inside while you twitched and whimpered from overstimulation.

“Thirty minutes left before you have to pick him up,” he murmured against your ear, voice still dark. He reached up and loosened the tie just enough to free your wrists, but stayed buried inside you. “That’s enough time for one more round.”

He pulled out only to flip you onto your side, spooning behind you. One strong arm hooked under your knee, spreading you open as he slid back in and started thrusting again—still rough, still deep, but now with the added grind against your clit.

“You’re going to walk out that door leaking my cum down your thighs,” he promised, teeth scraping your shoulder. “And tonight, after the toddler’s asleep, I’m taking you again. Properly. Until you can’t remember a single day we went without this.”

You could only moan and push back against him, pussy fluttering around his still-hard cock as another orgasm started building.

For the first time in over a year, Nanami Kento wasn’t gentle.

And you loved every brutal second of it.

[fayelero]

can u make nerd choso where theyre doing a project tg and things get spicy spicy🥹

nerd!choso's voice is a low, studious murmur behind those thick black-rimmed glasses, his messy dark hair falling over his eyes as he leans closer to the open textbook between you two. the campus library’s quiet hum wraps around your corner table on the third floor—dusty shelves, faint scent of old paper, and the occasional distant cough from some other poor soul cramming. he’s been explaining the same damn metabolic pathway for twenty minutes now, pointer finger tracing diagrams like it’s the most important shit in the world. nerdy as hell, but fuck, the way his long fingers move makes your thighs press together under the table.

you’re not listening. not really. your foot slips out of your loafer and slides up his calf under the table, slow and teasing, toes brushing the hem of his baggy black jeans. choso stiffens instantly, those pretty violet eyes flicking up to yours mid-sentence. “—and the enzyme kinetics follow michaelis-menten, so if we—ah.” his breath catches when your foot climbs higher, pressing right against the growing bulge in his lap. “b-babe, focus. exam’s in two days.”

you bite your lip, all innocent-like, but your eyes are anything but. “you’re so hot when you talk science, choso. look at you… all serious and smart. makes me wanna climb across this table.” you cut him off smooth, voice dropping to a whisper that only he can hear. your foot rubs firmer now, feeling him twitch and thicken under the denim. poor guy’s cheeks flush deep red, spreading all the way to the tips of his ears, that scar across his nose standing out sharper.

he swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing, trying to adjust his glasses like that’ll hide how hard he’s getting. “y-you’re distracting me. we need to finish this section.” but his voice cracks, betraying him. your toes curl against his cock, stroking the thick outline that’s now straining obscenely. choso’s thighs tense, one hand gripping the edge of the table while the other fumbles with the highlighter.

you sigh dramatically, squirming in your seat. your short pleated skirt rides up your thighs a little as you shift, crossing and uncrossing your legs so your foot can keep working him. “babeeee,” you whine softly, leaning in so your tits brush the table’s edge, nipples already pebbled under your thin top. “i want you. right now. this stupid project can wait… i can’t.”

choso’s eyes dart around the library—empty rows nearby, no one in sight for at least a few tables over. his blush deepens, but you see the way his pupils blow wide, that nerdy restraint cracking. “we can’t… not here. someone could—” he tries, voice a hushed rasp, but you just squeeze your foot against him harder, feeling a wet spot start to form where his tip’s leaking already. he groans low in his throat, biting it back. “fuck… okay. just… quiet. please.”

you grin, victorious. choso pushes his chair back just enough, those long legs spreading under the table as he sinks lower. slowly—so fucking slowly—he leans in first, one big hand cupping the back of your neck. his lips brush yours, soft at first, almost shy like the nerd he is. but then he deepens it, tongue sliding in lazy and wet, tasting like the mint gum he always chews during study sessions. quiet smacks fill the tiny space between you, his breath hot and shaky against your mouth. he pulls back just enough to nip your bottom lip, eyes half-lidded behind those glasses.

then he’s sliding down. choso’s tall frame folds awkwardly under the heavy wooden table, knees hitting the carpet as he disappears beneath your skirt. his hands—those big, veiny hands that were just pointing at equations—push your thighs apart gently but firmly. the cool library air hits your already damp panties, and you feel him hook two fingers into the crotch, tugging them to the side with a wet little sound.

“so pretty,” he mumbles, voice muffled under the fabric, breath ghosting over your slick folds. “already this wet for me? just from teasing?” his tongue comes out flat and broad, dragging a long, slow stripe from your entrance up to your clit. you jolt, thighs twitching, but bite down hard on your lip to stay silent. the library’s too quiet—every tiny noise feels deafening.

choso doesn’t rush. he’s thorough, nerdy even in this. he laps at you like he’s studying every inch, mapping your pussy with that hot, wet muscle. slow circles around your clit first, then dipping lower to push inside your hole, tongue fucking in and out in shallow thrusts that make your walls clench greedily. “mmph—” you whimper, barely audible, one hand flying down to grip his hair under the skirt. his messy locks feel silky between your fingers as you tug, urging him deeper.

he grunts softly against your cunt, the vibration shooting straight to your core. those wide hands spread you wider, thumbs parting your puffy lips so he can bury his face fully. loud, obscene slurps echo quietly under the table—wet schlick-schlick-schlick as he sucks on your clit like it’s candy, then releases it with a pop before diving back in. his nose grinds against your mound, glasses probably fogging up and slipping down his face, but he doesn’t care. choso eats you like a starving man, tongue swirling, lips smacking, sucking up every drop of your slick like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

your free hand clutches the textbook edge, knuckles white, pretending to read while your hips rock subtly against his mouth. “choso—fuck,” you breathe, so low it’s almost nothing. but he hears, doubling down. one long finger joins his tongue, sliding into your dripping heat knuckle-deep, curling right against that spongy spot that makes your eyes roll back. he pumps it slow, then faster, adding a second when your walls flutter around him. the stretch is perfect—his fingers thicker than most guys’, calloused from all that pencil-gripping.

the sounds are filthy. your pussy’s so sloppy now, creaming all over his chin and those pretty scarred lips. he moans into you, low and needy, “taste so good, baby… so fuckin’ sweet. squeeze on my tongue like that—yeah.” his words vibrate right through you, pushing you closer. you’re squirming harder, skirt draped over his head like a curtain, thighs clamping around his ears as the pressure builds.

choso’s other hand sneaks up, palming your tit through your top, pinching the nipple just hard enough to make you gasp. he doesn’t stop devouring you—tongue flicking rapid over your clit while his fingers fuck in and out, curling, scissoring, stretching your tight walls. your juices drip down his wrist, soaking the sleeve of his hoodie, but he’s lost in it. nerdy choso, usually so composed, is making out with your cunt like it’s his last meal, groaning and slurping without shame under the table.

“close—‘m so close,” you whisper desperately, hips grinding down onto his face. he sucks your clit hard between his lips, humming, fingers speeding up with wet pap-pap-paps that echo too loud in the quiet library. your vision whites out, teeth sinking into your arm to muffle the moan as you cum—hard. pussy spasming around his digits, gushing slick all over his tongue. he drinks it all, lapping greedily through every pulse, not stopping until you’re trembling and oversensitive, whimpering his name like a prayer.

choso finally pulls back, face glistening with your mess, lips swollen and shiny. he wipes his chin with the back of his hand, glasses crooked, breathing ragged as he peeks up at you from under the table. “project’s not done yet,” he murmurs, voice hoarse and wrecked, that blush still burning. but his eyes are dark with promise, cock still straining in his jeans. “but… we can take a break. if you stay quiet.”

his tongue darts out to lick his lips again, already hungry for round two.

[fayelero]

BEAST !

-> the last client of the day bends you over the counter and fucks you stupid right in front of the windows

ft. ryomen sukuna x fem!reader

cw. mdni. unestablished relationship, unprotected sex, size kink, barista!reader, power imbalance, semi-public sex, exhibitionism kink, dirty talk, oral (fem!receiving), creampie, overstimulation.

The bell above the door gave a lazy jingle, cutting through the quiet hum of the espresso machine you’d just shut off. You sighed, rag still clenched in your hand, wiping down the counter for the third time. The shop was dead—had been for the last hour—and you were already counting the minutes until you could flip the sign to CLOSED and drag your tired ass home. Tokyo nights were cold enough without having to play nice with one last customer.

But you couldn’t exactly bark at him to leave.

He stepped in like the place belonged to him. Tall. Broad. Ink-black tattoos slashed across his face in sharp, deliberate lines—four sharp eyes, two of them narrowed like he was already bored with the world. Pinkish hair pushed back messily, black jacket hanging open over a tight shirt that did nothing to hide the ridiculous muscle underneath. The tattoos continued down his neck, disappearing beneath the collar, and something about the way he moved made the air feel heavier. Dangerous. Like a predator who’d decided to stroll into a fucking café.

You swallowed, heart giving a stupid little kick, and slipped behind the counter.

“Uh… welcome,” you said, voice softer than you meant it to be. “What can I get for you?”

Sukuna’s gaze dragged over you slowly. Those extra eyes—if you were seeing things right—seemed to flicker with amusement. A low, lazy smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, the scar-like marks on his face shifting with it.

“Black coffee. Large. Hot enough to burn.”

His voice was gravel and smoke, deep enough to settle low in your stomach. You nodded quickly, cheeks already warming under that stare, and turned to the machine. Your hands felt clumsy as you grabbed a fresh cup, the scent of fresh grounds filling the small space. You could feel him watching you the entire time—those eyes burning holes into your back, tracing the curve of your hips, the way your apron tied tight around your waist.

When you slid the cup across the counter, your fingers brushed his. Just for a second. His skin was fever-hot.

“Here you go,” you murmured, pulling your hand back like you’d been shocked.

Sukuna didn’t say thanks. He just took the cup, turned, and dropped himself into the chair at the exact table you’d wiped down minutes ago. The one right in the middle of the shop, like he wanted to take up as much space as possible. His long legs stretched out, thighs thick under those dark pants, boots planted heavy on the floor. He took a slow sip, eyes never leaving you as you fidgeted behind the counter.

You wiped your hands on your apron, pulse hammering. He was… stupidly hot. In that terrifying, can’t-look-away kind of way. The kind of man your friends would warn you about. The kind you secretly thought about late at night when the apartment was too quiet.

You glanced at the clock. Ten minutes until close.

Steeling yourself, you stepped out from behind the counter, approaching his table with your hands clasped in front of you. Your voice came out shy, almost embarrassed.

“Um… we’re closing in about ten minutes, sir.”

Sukuna lowered the cup slowly, that smirk deepening into something sharper, meaner. Two of his eyes—fuck, how many did he have?—locked onto yours while the others seemed to drink in the rest of you. He leaned back in the chair, the wood creaking under his weight, and let his gaze drag down your body like he was sizing up a meal.

“Works for me,” he rumbled, voice low and dripping with something filthy.

Your face burned. You shifted on your feet, thighs pressing together without meaning to. The way he said it—like the shop closing early was exactly what he wanted—sent a confusing rush of heat through you. Confusion twisted in your chest, but it was drowned out fast by the way your stomach flipped. He was staring at you like he already knew exactly how you’d taste.

“I—I mean, you can finish your coffee, of course,” you added quickly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Just… yeah.”

He chuckled, a dark, amused sound that vibrated straight through your ribs. Sukuna set the cup down and crooked a finger at you, slow and commanding.

“C’mere, pretty thing.”

Your breath hitched. Your feet moved before your brain could argue, carrying you closer until you were standing right beside his table. Up close he was even bigger—shoulders wide enough to block out half the shop’s light, tattoos stark against his skin, that scar on his lip pulling when he grinned.

“You always this polite when you’re trying to kick someone out?” he asked, tilting his head. One of his large hands rested on the table, fingers drumming once, lazily. “Or is it just for me?”

You swallowed hard, heat crawling up your neck. “I… I’m just doing my job.”

“Mhm.” His eyes—those extra ones too—narrowed with clear hunger. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, and the scent of him hit you: something dark, like smoke and warm metal and pure male. “You’re blushing, girl. Real cute. Makes me wonder what else gets you this flustered.”

Your lips parted, but nothing came out. The shop felt smaller. The air thicker. Ten minutes suddenly felt like both too much and not nearly enough time. Sukuna’s gaze dropped to your mouth, then lower, tracing the line of your throat, the rise of your chest under your work shirt.

He licked his lips, slow.

“Lock the door.”

It wasn’t a suggestion. His voice had dropped even lower, rough around the edges, like he was already imagining how you’d sound saying his name. Your heart slammed against your ribs. Part of you screamed this was insane—he was a stranger, covered in tattoos that looked like curses, radiating danger like heat off pavement. But the other part… the part that had been staring at him since he walked in… was already imagining those big hands on your waist.

You hesitated, cheeks burning hotter.

Sukuna’s smirk turned wicked.

“Don’t make me say it twice, sweetheart. Clock’s ticking.” His tongue flicked over one of the tattoos near his mouth, eyes gleaming. “And I’m not nearly done looking at you yet.”

The rag slipped from your fingers, forgotten on the floor. Your thighs trembled as you took one shaky step toward the door, his low chuckle chasing after you like a promise.

This was going to be a long ten minutes.

Your back hit the glass door with a soft thud, the cool surface bleeding through your thin work shirt as Sukuna stalked forward. Each step he took was deliberate, heavy boots eating up the distance between you like he owned every inch of the empty café. Those four eyes—two pairs, sharp and glowing with something feral—never left yours. The black tattoos across his face seemed to sharpen under the dim overhead lights, the markings on his neck and wrists pulsing like living ink as his muscles flexed beneath his jacket.

Gangster? Some kind of yakuza guy who’d wandered in for coffee and decided you looked like dessert instead? Your mind spun, pulse hammering so hard you could feel it in your throat. But the way he looked at you… it wasn’t murder in those eyes. It was hunger. Raw, unfiltered, terrifying hunger.

He stopped just inches away, towering over you. Heat rolled off his massive frame, that broad chest nearly brushing yours. One of his large hands came up, palm slapping flat against the glass beside your head, caging you in without even touching you yet.

“Lock it,” he repeated, voice a low, guttural growl that vibrated straight down your spine.

Your lips parted, breath shaky. “What… what do you want?”

Sukuna’s smirk widened, slow and vicious, the scar at the corner of his mouth pulling tight. He leaned in closer, lips hovering just above yours, his breath hot and smelling faintly of the black coffee he’d barely touched.

“You.”

The single word punched the air out of your lungs. No games. No pretense. Just raw possession.

“Now lock the door.”

Your brain short-circuited. Reason screamed at you—this was insane, dangerous, stupid—but your body had already betrayed you. Cheeks burning scarlet, thighs clenching together under your skirt, you reached behind yourself with trembling fingers and twisted the lock. The deadbolt clicked into place with a final, heavy sound that sealed the two of you inside the quiet shop.

The second it did, Sukuna moved.

His mouth crashed down on yours like a claim. No gentle buildup, no soft coaxing—just pure, bruising dominance. His lips were scorching, demanding, the slight roughness of that scarred mouth grinding against yours as he forced your head back against the glass. You whimpered into the kiss, hands flying up to grip the front of his jacket, and he growled in approval, the sound rumbling through his chest and into you.

He kissed like he fought—violent, relentless, devouring. His tongue shoved past your lips without asking, thick and hot, stroking deep into your mouth like he was already fucking it. You kissed him back just as desperately, shy at first but quickly melting, tongues sliding and battling as saliva already started to slick your chins. One of his hands gripped your jaw, tilting your head exactly how he wanted it, thumb pressing hard into your cheek while the other dropped to your waist, yanking your body flush against his.

Fuck, he was huge. Solid muscle everywhere, abs like carved stone under that tight shirt, thighs thick and powerful as they pinned you harder to the door. You could feel the obscene bulge of his cock already straining against his pants, pressing hot and heavy right against your lower belly.

“Mmph—!” you moaned into his mouth as he bit your bottom lip hard enough to sting, then soothed it with another filthy swipe of his tongue. He pulled back just enough to let you gasp for air, a thin string of spit connecting your swollen mouths, before diving back in even rougher. His extra eyes stayed open, watching every twitch of your face, every flutter of your lashes, drinking in your submission like it fed him.

Sukuna’s hand slid down from your jaw to your throat, not squeezing—just holding, possessive, feeling your frantic pulse under his palm. He ground his hips forward once, slow and deliberate, letting you feel exactly what you’d done to him.

“Pretty little thing,” he rasped against your lips, voice wrecked and dark. “Locking the door for a stranger. Bet that shy pussy’s already dripping just from a kiss, huh?”

"D-don't say that!" you whimpered, embarrassed heat flooding your face, but your hips rolled against him instinctively. He chuckled, low and mean, and kissed you again—deeper, filthier. His tongue fucked into your mouth in heavy strokes, mimicking exactly what he clearly planned to do to the rest of you. One big hand palmed your ass, squeezing the soft flesh hard through your skirt, fingers digging in as he lifted you slightly, forcing your legs to part around one of his thick thighs.

The position pressed his muscled thigh right against your core. You gasped sharply, grinding down on it without thinking, the friction making your eyes roll back. Sukuna ate every sound you made, swallowing your moans like they belonged to him.

He pulled back with a wet pop, breathing hard, lips shiny with your spit. Tattoos stark under the lights, pink hair messy from your fingers, he looked every bit the dangerous beast he was. Those four eyes burned down at you, pupils blown wide with lust.

“Gonna ruin this tight little body,” he growled, voice dripping sin as he rolled his thigh against your soaked panties again, feeling you tremble. “Right here on the counter. On every fucking table. Till you’re screaming my name and can’t walk out that door without my cum running down your thighs.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. His mouth claimed yours again, rougher this time, teeth nipping at your tongue, lips sucking bruises into your neck as his hands roamed—groping, squeezing, owning every inch he could reach. Your back arched off the door, fingers clawing into his shoulders, lost in the overwhelming heat and power of him.

Ten minutes had turned into forever. And Sukuna had only just started.

Your back was still pinned to the locked door, lips swollen and tingling from Sukuna’s brutal kisses, when you finally gasped out a shaky protest.

“S-Stop… talking like that,” you whimpered, face burning crimson. Your voice was barely audible, embarrassed heat flooding every inch of your skin. “It’s too dirty… I can’t—”

Sukuna’s four eyes gleamed with dark amusement. That wicked scar-lipped smirk only widened as he slowly dropped to his knees right there in front of you, massive frame still somehow dominating the space. His broad shoulders nudged your thighs apart without effort, hands gripping the hem of your skirt and yanking it up to your waist in one rough motion.

“No—” you started, mortified, trying to close your legs, but his iron grip kept them spread. “You don’t have to—”

“Shush~,” he growled, voice low and hungry. “This pretty pussy’s been teasing me since I walked in. Smells fucking desperate already.”

Before you could argue again, Sukuna buried his face between your thighs.

His hot tongue dragged up the soaked crotch of your panties in one long, filthy stripe, tasting you through the fabric. You cried out, hands flying to his pink hair, fingers tightening hard as your knees buckled. He ripped the panties aside with a sharp tear, exposing your dripping cunt to the cool shop air, and then his mouth was on you—raw, ravenous, no mercy.

“F-Fuck—!” The moan tore out of you before you could stop it. His tongue was thick, hot, and inhumanly skilled, lapping broad and messy from your leaking hole up to your swollen clit. He sucked the sensitive bud into his mouth with obscene wet sounds, tongue flicking rapidly while two of his eyes stared up at your flushed, shocked face. The other two were half-lidded in pleasure, focused entirely on devouring you.

You’d never felt anything like it. No man had ever gone down on you, and Sukuna wasn’t just doing it—he was feasting. Sloppy, loud, greedy slurps echoed through the empty café as he ate your pussy like a starving beast. His scarred lips sucked and kissed, his tongue fucked deep into your clenching hole, curling and stroking against your walls while his strong nose ground against your clit.

“Ahh—! Sukuna—!” Your thighs shook violently around his head. Embarrassment melted fast under the overwhelming pleasure. You couldn’t stop moaning, loud and broken, hips grinding against his face like a whore. He groaned into your cunt, the vibration shooting straight through you, and doubled down—sucking harder, tongue plunging faster, two thick fingers suddenly shoving inside you and curling ruthlessly against that spongy spot that made stars burst behind your eyes.

Your back arched hard against the glass door, one hand clawing at his hair, the other slapping against the door for balance. “Oh my god— I’m— I’m gonna—!”

He didn’t let up. Sukuna growled like a demon against your soaked folds, fingers pumping brutally while his tongue lashed your clit without pause. Your orgasm crashed into you like a freight train—hard, sudden, blinding. You screamed, thighs clamping around his head as your pussy gushed all over his tongue and chin. He kept licking through it, drinking every drop, groaning in satisfaction as your walls fluttered and squeezed around his fingers.

Only when you were a trembling, whimpering mess did he pull back, lips and chin glistening with your cum. He rose slowly, towering over you again, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand like he’d just finished a meal.

“Good girl,” he rumbled, voice wrecked. “Now bend over the counter.”

He didn’t wait. Sukuna grabbed your waist and spun you around, shoving you forward until your chest and stomach pressed flat against the cold countertop. Your ass jutted out toward him, skirt bunched uselessly around your waist, legs shaking. You looked back over your shoulder just in time to see him shove his pants and boxers down.

Your eyes widened in pure horror.

His cock sprang free—thick, veined, monstrous. Longer than you thought possible, with a slight upward curve and a fat, angry-red tip already drooling precum. The base was even girthier, heavy balls hanging beneath, and those black tattoos trailed down his pelvis like they were pointing straight to the weapon between his legs.

“It… it won’t fit,” you breathed, voice small and panicked, thighs pressing together instinctively. “Sukuna— that’s too big— there’s no way—”

He chuckled darkly, stepping close. One big hand gripped your ass cheek, spreading you open while the other guided his massive cock to your dripping entrance. The blunt head nudged against your soaked folds, hot and heavy.

“It’ll fit,” he growled, voice dripping with smug confidence. “This tight little cunt was made to take me. Relax, pretty thing.”

He pushed in slowly.

The stretch was insane—burning, overwhelming, delicious. Inch after thick inch sank into you, forcing your walls to part around his girth. You moaned loudly, fingers scrambling against the counter, mouth falling open as he filled you deeper than anything ever had. Halfway in and you already felt stuffed full, cervix kissed by his tip.

“Fuuuck— so goddamn tight,” Sukuna groaned, head tipping back. His hips rolled forward steadily, feeding you every inch until his heavy balls pressed against your clit and his pelvis was flush with your ass.

You were panting, drooling against the counter, eyes glassy. The fullness was almost too much—borderline painful but so fucking good. When he started moving—slow, deep drags that pulled almost all the way out before sinking back in—you couldn’t hold back the moans anymore.

“Ah—! Sukuna— oh my god—”

That was all the permission he needed.

His pace snapped harder. Faster. The wet, filthy slap of his hips against your ass filled the shop as he started pounding you properly. Each brutal thrust shoved you forward against the counter, your tits squishing against the surface, nipples hard and sensitive through your shirt. His cock bullied your insides, rearranging you, hitting that perfect spot over and over until your eyes rolled back.

“Take it— fuck, that’s it,” he snarled, one hand fisting your hair to keep your head up while the other gripped your hip hard enough to bruise. “Scream for me. Let the whole fucking street hear how well you’re taking my cock.”

Your eyes flicked toward the large front windows. The street outside was dimly lit, occasional passersby visible in the night. Anyone could look in—see you bent over, skirt up, getting absolutely railed by this tattooed monster. The thought mortified you… and made your pussy clench harder around him.

You hoped nobody saw.

But you kinda hoped they did.

Sukuna noticed. He laughed low and mean, slamming into you even harder, the wet pap-pap-pap of his heavy balls smacking your clit driving you closer to the edge again.

“Dirty fucking girl. You like the idea of them watching, don’t you?” He leaned over your back, teeth grazing your neck as he pounded deeper. “Let ‘em see who this pussy belongs to now.”

Your moans turned into broken sobs of pleasure, body shaking violently under his relentless assault. Sukuna showed no signs of slowing down—only fucking you harder, claiming every inch of your trembling body right there on the counter where you’d served him coffee barely twenty minutes ago.