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more 18+ headcanons for stevie boy
warning 18+ older roommate!toji fushiguro x college f!reader he’s sad. quiet. heavy. you let him use your ass when he’s upset 🎀
you weren’t even supposed to live with him that long.
it was meant to be a temporary thing three months max. just until your lease got sorted out, or until your boyfriend found a place closer to campus. but then three months turned into five, and then midterms came, and then your boyfriend said he didn’t want a roommate after all. and you were still here. still in that quiet, cool apartment with the fridge full of protein shakes and beer, and the hallway that always smelled like his cologne.
toji was older than you. older in that hard-to-place way. he never said his age, but you knew it was somewhere between thirty and forty. maybe closer to forty. the lines around his mouth made him look tired, but his body didn’t. he worked out every day, left early, came back late, didn’t talk much, didn’t smile much either. you always felt like he noticed more than he let on. always watching, but quiet about it.
it wasn’t flirty. not at first.
just weird little moments.
like the way he’d look at you too long when you came home from class in one of your tiny skirts. or how he never asked about your boyfriend, even when you were pacing around the living room whispering into the phone at night. or how he always seemed to walk in right after you showered, towel still wrapped around your body, hair dripping down your back.
but he never crossed the line.
until tonight.
you were on the couch, like always.
your little shorts were riding up from how you were lying on your stomach, tank top thin and braless underneath. you weren’t even trying to be cute. just comfy.
your boyfriend had texted you something boring, so you were ignoring him. scrolling tiktok. humming under your breath.
and then the front door slammed.
you jumped a little. turned your head slowly.
he was standing there. fists clenched. jaw locked. breathing uneven like he just came back from a fight.
you blinked.
you okay?
he didn’t answer right away. just stared at the wall for a second like he was trying to talk himself down from something.
then, he came over. not fast. not threatening. just walked slowly to the couch and dropped down beside you, hard, his big body sinking deep into the cushions.
he was still in his gym clothes. black shirt stretched tight across his chest, sweat dried along his collar. you could smell him.
he didn’t look at you when he spoke.
fuckin bitch at work tried to make a scene.
you stayed quiet. let him talk.
snapped at me in front of everybody. like she thought i was gonna sit there and let her.
you rested your chin on your palm. glanced over at him.
what did you do?
he scoffed.
walked out. told the boss she could fire me if she wanted.
he rubbed his face.
i’m fucking tired.
you nodded. it was weird seeing him like that angry but quiet. his voice low and hoarse, like he’d been holding it in all day.
he looked over at you.
you always this quiet?
you shrugged.
sometimes.
you heard him sigh again. then he leaned back, stretching one leg out, his thigh almost touching yours.
you laughed softly, glancing back at your phone.
he stared at you for a second too long.
you don’t mind if i sit here a bit, right?
you shook your head.
you live here too.
his gaze lingered.
can i ask you something?
you nodded.
what’s your boyfriend do when you’re upset?
you paused. looked up.
uh… i guess he talks to me? i don’t know. asks what’s wrong.
toji smirked. not cruel. just… knowing.
talks.
yeah.
he leaned over suddenly, one thick palm resting on your lower back, fingers spread gently.
can i try something?
you blinked.
what?
his tone was calm. quiet. almost careful.
s’nothing, don’t make it weird. just… helps me calm down.
his leg moved, sliding up behind yours. his whole body shifted until he was hovering over your ass.
i’m just gonna sit like this for a second. don’t move.
you didn’t have time to react. he eased down, slow, his full weight settling over the backs of your thighs, his hips pressing gently against the swell of your ass.
you could feel it. thick. heavy. even through both layers.
your mouth parted.
toji…
shh. not weird. it’s not sexual.
he rocked forward, slow, grinding his hips into the softness of your ass, slow and rhythmic.
just helps me. not thinking about you. just need to relax.
his hands smoothed up your sides. then back down. you felt his breath on your neck.
you feel warm. soft. grounding.
your thighs squeezed together.
you should’ve told him to stop.
you had a boyfriend.
you weren’t supposed to like this.
but he rolled his hips again, slower this time, a soft grunt in his throat.
feels better already.
and you didn’t move.
you didn’t even breathe.
just stayed there, heavy on top of you, hips pressed into your ass, breathing slower now. you could feel the heat of him through his sweats. the way his cock had thickened, twitching occasionally against your soft shorts.
you didn’t say anything. neither did he.
for a long time, it was just the sound of the tv playing something you weren’t watching, your phone screen dimming in your hand.
then, slowly, his voice came again. lower this time. not angry. just… tired.
she took everything.
you blinked.
he was staring at the floor in front of the couch, arms braced on either side of your waist.
the house. the cars. even the fuckin dog.
his body moved over yours, barely rocking, just enough to keep himself calm.
and megumi. she took him too. didn’t even let me fight for custody. said i was too unstable.
his voice cracked a little.
was i a bad dad?
you didn’t know what to say. you swallowed hard.
i don’t think so. you’re a kind man toji..
his breath shuddered behind you.
he leaned down a little, chest pressing against your back.
you remind me of how things used to feel before everything went to shit.
you looked down at your hand. it was trembling.
toji…
he cut you off, softly.
no, i’m serious. you’re calm. sweet. you don’t make me feel like i’m losing my mind every time i come home.
his hips rolled again. slower now. deeper.
i’m not trying to make this weird.
you squeezed your thighs together.
it’s just comfort.
you didn’t move.
you should’ve.
his hips were still rolling gently over yours, steady and quiet, like it was just breathing. like it wasn’t anything filthy, just some low, grounding rhythm he needed to stay sane. he wasn’t moaning. wasn’t panting. he wasn’t even hard yet. that’s what made it worse.
he was just calm.
and something about that scared you more than if he’d pinned you down.
his hand was still on your back. not holding you. just resting there, like he needed to feel you moving with him.
you felt so soft tonight.
you felt like permission.
he didn’t say anything for a minute. just moved slowly, the heat of his sweats dragging over your ass with every push of his hips.
his hips pressed forward just a little more that time. the drag of him against you firmer now.
you were quiet. you didn’t want to hear this.
but he kept going.
she got cold after megumi. turned into someone else. someone bitter. angry.
you closed your eyes.
and you? you’re not like that.
he reached down again, the tips of his fingers dragging over the waistband of your little shorts.
you’re still warm. you still make people feel safe even broken bastards like me.
you sucked in a breath. your legs tensed, thighs trembling.
toji…
his hand didn’t move. it just stayed there, warm and big and slow.
shhh. not doing anything. just feeling you.
he leaned down now, chest heavy against your back, breath brushing the edge of your ear.
you’re tense. don’t be. this isn’t weird.
you tried to shift your hips. his hand caught them. gently. firmly.
i know it’s hard. being touched like this by someone older. someone who’s supposed to be safe.
his voice dropped lower.
but baby, i am safe.
you let out a shaky breath. your phone slipped from your hand to the floor.
he didn’t even flinch.
you want me to stop?
you nodded.
he paused.
then pulled your shorts down anyway.
only halfway. just enough to let your cheeks spill out, bare and soft under his palms.
see? nothing bad’s happening. just skin. just you and me. you have a cute butt sweetheart.
you should’ve screamed.
you should’ve left.
but he was gentle. slow. sweet even, in a way that made your stomach flutter and ache.
his cock was hard now. you could feel it dragging thick and heavy along your ass, clothed still, but pulsing.
his hands held your hips like they were something fragile.
god… your body.
he breathed it out, low and wrecked, like he’d been holding it in for years.
so much softer than hers.
he lifted you gently. rolled his hips up against your bare ass, the thin fabric of your panties wet now, clinging.
just keep letting me.
you whimpered.
but you didn’t stop me.
he leaned in closer, lips brushing your neck.
your boyfriend still young, chasing life.. maybe he doesn’t touch you like this.
maybe he doesn’t see you like i do.
he thrust again, slow and deeper this time, grinding into the soft spot between your thighs.
your legs spread without meaning to.
fuck, he whispered. that’s it.
just let me soothe myself.
he rubbed his cock along the curve of your pussy, still covered by your soaked panties, every stroke a little longer now, a little heavier.
you felt his hand move around to your stomach, holding you still, the other sliding over your lower back, stroking you.
you’re not doing anything wrong.
his breath was so close now.
you’re just helping me.
and the worst part was..
it felt true.
he didn’t stop.
his hands stayed on your body even while he talked, like touching you helped the words come out smoother. he kept one palm low on your spine, warm and firm, grounding you to the couch, while the other slid lower, curving over the round of your ass.
he gave it a squeeze first.
then rubbed it.
then shook it once, gently, like he was testing the weight of you.
god… she never let me touch her like this anymore.
he said it like it was nothing.
like he wasn’t palming your bare ass cheeks while grinding his cock up between them.
every fake thrust was a little heavier now, cock dragging up the crack of your ass through his sweats and your panties. you were soaked. you didn’t even know when it happened. maybe sometime after his first groan. or maybe after that third thrust when he whispered you’re softer than her.
he rolled his hips forward again, this time deeper, until the fabric between you was hot and damp and clinging.
his voice cracked mid-sentence.
before the baby. before the fucking lawyers.
his thumb hooked the thin waistband of your panties. didn’t pull just played with it, twisting the fabric, tugging it up slightly between your cheeks so it pressed tighter against your pussy lips.
she used to beg for it. used to say she loved how strong i was.
he tugged your panties again. then let them snap back lightly against your skin.
you stayed silent. frozen. dizzy.
now i’m just a paycheck. just a man she wants to rot.
he lifted your hips up again, forcing you to arch slightly, your ass in the air now, bare and soft and trembling under his weight.
but you… fuck, baby, you’re like a memory.
he moaned a little under his breath, grinding down harder, dragging the full length of his cock along your soaked fabric.
you’re like how women used to be. quiet. soft. grateful.
you let out a shaky breath.
his hand stroked the curve of your ass slowly, then squeezed again.
then both hands were on you palming, groping, parting your cheeks just enough to press himself between them.
you feel so fuckin good.
his voice cracked again.
i haven’t touched anyone since the divorce.
he rolled his hips again. the fabric twisted. your panties were soaked through, sticking to your slit, your clit catching just slightly with every grind.
and your boyfriend… he has no idea.
he chuckled softly. not mean. not cruel. just… certain.
you’re laying here with your shorts pulled down and your soaked little pussy rubbing against my cock.
he leaned closer, lips at your ear, breathing heavy.
you whispered his name.
toji…
he kissed the back of your neck.
not sweet.
not gentle.
just claiming.
shhh. i know, baby.
his fingers slid under the band of your panties this time. deeper. skin to skin now. not rushing. just resting them there.
you’re just helping.
and i’m gonna keep using you like this until my cock stops hurting.
his hips pressed forward hard. slow. deliberate. your clit throbbed. your thighs trembled.
just my own little remedy.
my soft little cure.
his hands started rubbing again. up and down your hips. over your ass. down to your thighs.
you’re such a good girl.
his cock dragged right over your cunt. again. again. again.
and the worst part was
you were clenching.
his hands didn’t stop.
they moved like he was sculpting you, rubbing your skin slow, gripping deep in some places, featherlight in others. he was rocking his hips now in soft, lazy grinds cock heavy and leaking behind the fabric of his sweats, dragging up and down your soaked slit through your panties like it was nothing. like it was natural.
your shorts were bunched around your knees. your panties soaked and crooked. and your ass was wide open in his lap, his hands sliding around it, shaping it, spreading it every few seconds just to watch it part.
and god, he watched.
he looked between your cheeks like it was holy.
not rushed. not desperate. just fixated.
fuck… look at this.
he whispered it like awe.
look how perfect you are down here.
his thumbs spread your ass open wider. you felt the cool air hit everything your folds, your twitching hole, the slick that made your panties stick.
you whimpered.
he leaned in. you felt his breath on your lower back.
you’ve got the prettiest lil pussy i’ve ever seen.
he let your cheeks fall back together with a soft slap. then parted them again.
and this fuckin hole… twitchin like it knows.
he chuckled under his breath. slow, low.
baby, this is insane. it’s so tight. so small.
he spread your ass again. stared. watched it clench.
god, you’re squeezin up for me.
you buried your face in the couch.
toji, please…
please what?
he closed your cheeks again. rubbed them in slow circles, then grabbed both and shook them softly, admiring the bounce.
you feel how hard i am, right? just from looking at it.
he ground his cock back between them, slow, dragging it over your pussy lips again and again.
not even fuckin you. just looking at you.
he parted your ass again. slow. careful. reverent.
your lil hole is fluttering like it wants to be kissed.
you let out a soft cry. he groaned.
fuck, you’re perfect. every inch of you. this is what real women look like. not those fake women who don’t know how to take care of a man.
his hand dragged up your inner thigh, fingers brushing the damp edge of your panties.
you’ve got folds like heaven. warmth like home.
he rocked again. slower. your panties clung to your clit now.
i could stare at this pussy for hours. never even fuck it. just rub on it. feel how soft she is.
he kissed your lower back. then kissed just above your ass.
you were trembling now. thighs shaking. face buried in a pillow.
you’re made to be held like this.
he spread you again, slowly. wider this time.
fuck. it’s twitching again.
he moaned, dragging his cock between your cheeks like it was a silk pocket.
don’t worry, baby. i won’t put it in.
he kissed the dip of your spine.
not unless you beg.
and even then, i’d take my time.
you’re not a hole to fuck.
you’re a place to rest.
he rubbed your ass again. grabbed both cheeks. shook them. groaned.
i’ll fuckin cum just like this.
he buried his cock between them again, grinding hard, low, moaning softly like he was almost there.
your hole’s too cute to ruin.
your pussy’s too perfect to rush.
he dragged his tip down once more, pressing it just over your clit through the soaked fabric.
let me finish like this, baby.
just let me use it.
just a lil longer.
his hand reached back down.
this time there was no pause. no warning. no question.
he hooked his thick fingers in the sides of your panties and pulled them down, slowly, steadily, inch by inch, until they slid over the swell of your ass, your soaked folds, your trembling thighs.
he groaned softly, more breath than voice, and let them drop to your knees, then slipped them off completely, tossing them somewhere behind the couch.
then he sat back on his knees, both palms full of your ass, eyes locked between your legs like it was sacred.
fuck.
his voice came out ragged now.
you’re even prettier bare.
you didn’t say anything. you couldn’t. your face was buried, your body on fire.
he parted your cheeks again, slow and steady.
little hole’s twitching again.
he stared, quiet, fixated.
then tilted his head.
is it cause you’re nervous? or cause you like this?
he didn’t wait for an answer.
he just kept looking.
your asshole fluttered open gently with every slow breath. your pussy below was wet and glistening, folds soft and slightly parted from how swollen you were.
goddamn, baby…
he rubbed his thumbs around your hole in lazy, slow circles, not touching the center. just framing it.
your body knows what it’s doing.
he spread you wider. let your hole open, then held it. watched it.
look at her.
fuckin opening for me.
he let go slowly.
watched your cheeks fall back together.
then squeezed them in his palms and rubbed them together, fat and soft and warm like bread dough.
what kinda boyfriend lets his girl walk around with a perfect ass like this and doesn’t keep her home?
he smacked your cheeks together lightly.
then peeled them apart again.
look, look how it moves.
he leaned down, nose close, staring like it was art.
your lil hole’s breathing, baby.
he brought your cheeks together again, slowly rubbing them.
and your pussy… fuck. she’s leaking just from being open.
he reached between your thighs, didn’t touch just hovered.
do you even realize how wet you are?
you whimpered. he laughed.
answer me.
you know this isn’t normal, right?
he spread you again. tilted your hips. watched the slick drip between your folds.
what’s your boyfriend gonna think when he sees the mess you made? when your pussy’s all puffy and your lil hole’s red and twitching like someone’s been using it?
he dragged his cock slowly between your cheeks again, this time skin to skin.
you felt the wet spot of pre-cum smear.
you think he could handle seeing you like this?
you think he could keep calm? ´cause i can’t.
he pinched your ass gently and rolled the flesh in his palms.
you’re too soft to ignore.
too fuckin perfect not to look at.
he kept your cheeks parted, watching your hole open again. slow. pulsing.
do you like being looked at like this, baby?
you like when an older man like me stares at your asshole like it’s worth more than rent?
he ground forward again, moaning deep in his chest.
cause i’d pay for this.
i’d worship this.
and you’re just laying here. letting me.
he pinched both cheeks together, held them shut, then dragged them open again slowly.
your hole’s not even shy anymore.
she wants attention.
she wants praise.
he leaned down, breathing against it.
i could put my tongue here and make you lose your fuckin mind.
not even touch your pussy.
just right here.
he kissed the curve above your hole.
light. respectful. filthy.
you whimpered again. he stroked your hip.
shhh. it’s not weird.
it’s just helping me.
i’m just calming down.
his cock slid back into the mess between your cheeks.
his thrusts got heavier. deeper. slower.
and you just laid there.
open.
dripping.
trembling.
while he used you to forget his life.
and you couldn’t take it anymore.
his hands had been spreading and squeezing you for so long, his voice low and warm against your back, whispering about how soft you were, how good your little twitching hole looked, how soaked your pussy was and you were still just laying there, silent and trembling, thighs clenching, trying not to make a sound.
but now it was buzzing.
everywhere.
between your legs, under your skin, up your spine.
he had you bare and open.
panties gone.
folds glistening.
hole twitching.
and every time he moaned, every time he touched you like you were sacred, something in you lit up.
you couldn’t pretend anymore.
not with how your heart was beating.
not with how your thighs kept inching wider.
so you reached back.
you lifted yourself up, just slightly barely on your elbows and then slowly, you brought your hands behind you, palms warm, fingers curved.
your manicured nails grazed your own ass.
and then you parted your cheeks wide.
for him.
you heard his breath catch.
oh… baby girl.
he sounded broken. reverent.
you held yourself open, cheeks stretched wide with your own delicate hands, and you tilted your hips a little, just enough to give him the perfect view. your asshole twitched once, slow, deliberate. your pussy below was swollen, wet, lips parted from all the pressure and grinding.
you took a breath.
you didn’t even recognize your own voice when it came out.
you can rub it there if you want.
not inside.
just… between.
if it helps you cock..
silence.
then a groan.
low and thick and wrecked.
fuck, sweetheart.
he leaned forward, chest pressed to your back, cock heavy between your hands, and you felt it the weight of it, the heat, the slow grind of fabric against your stretched skin.
you held yourself wider.
your nails digging in a little.
you wanted him to see everything.
feel better, toji.
you whispered it like a sin.
and he moaned.
you’re such a sweet fuckin girl.
you know that?
who the hell raised you like this?
his hands gripped your hips again.
his cock dragged along the dip between your cheeks, slow and thick, fabric catching on your fluttering hole.
not even gonna fuck you.
just let me feel this.
he rutted forward again, groaning, his tip catching your tailbone through the fabric, then gliding down over your hole, your folds, your clit.
you felt it.
you loved it.
you whispered again, softer this time.
does it feel good?
he gasped.
feels like fuckin heaven.
your ass is the softest thing i’ve ever touched.
and your lil hole… baby, she’s clenching just for me.
you rubbed your cheeks together gently, squeezing them with your own hands, then spreading them again.
your own fingers were still gripping the underside of your ass, stretching yourself wide while his bare cock rubbed slow between your cheeks. the room smelled like sweat and sex not fucked sex, not messy moaning porn sex but need. tension. body warmth and breath and skin dragging on skin.
you could feel everything.
the way his cockhead slipped down and caught on the softness between your folds before gliding back up. the weight of it dragging between your cheeks. the friction of slick and heat. the tip was wet he’d been leaking on you for minutes now, every grind leaving more precum smeared across your skin. your hole had started twitching from it, flinching from the pressure every time he passed over it like a nerve ending exposed.
you could tell he was trying not to come.
you could hear it in his voice, the way his breathing changed, lips parting, chest rising and falling faster as he buried his cock deeper between your ass cheeks and moaned against your back.
his hands came to your waist, then lower, thumbs hooking into the dip of your hips, pulling you back into him as he rocked forward with a sharp exhale.
fuck, baby.
i don’t even need to fuck you. this is better than anything i had with her.
you swallowed, lips parted, voice soft.
you can… put the tip there.
he froze.
what?
you kept your hands where they were, nails grazing your own skin.
not inside. just… you can press it there. if it helps.
his groan was raw.
oh fuck.
you nodded slowly.
just the tip.
just to soothe you.
he growled deep in his chest, leaned forward over your body, and whispered right into your ear.
you’re so fucking good for me.
you felt him shift one hand bracing the small of your back, the other gripping the base of his cock. his tip slid down again, lower, lower, and then stopped right against your hole.
you gasped.
the head of his cock was hot. thick. slick. and when it pressed gently against your asshole, you felt it pulse. not pushing. just resting there. full contact. your hole twitched on instinct, fluttering under the pressure. his groan came slow, heavy, drawn out from the chest.
oh baby… that’s it.
you’re holding her so still for me.
fuck, she’s reacting already. twitchin like she knows it’s me.
he didn’t thrust.
he just rubbed. slow circles of his tip over your asshole, coating it with warm precum, letting it glide back and forth, pressing just enough to stretch your rim without slipping in.
you’re not even fighting it.
you’re letting me soothe myself right on your sweet ass.
you were made for this.
this little spot right here.
he pressed the head flat against it, not pushing in, just covering you with the heavy heat of his cock.
you stayed perfectly still.
open.
offering.
not because you wanted it.
just because he needed it.
just to help.
you’re my good girl.
you hear me?
fuck your boyfriend. fuck everyone.
this is mine now.
he ground forward again, hips slow, cockhead sliding wetly against your rim, rubbing his release over you like it belonged there.
and your hole just twitched under him, again and again, waiting.
he didn’t push in.
but he wanted to.
and you could feel it in every quiet breath.
his cock didn’t leave your skin.
it was resting right there, the tip broad and flushed, heavy against your hole. you could feel every twitch of him. the way he throbbed at the base, the heat pooling inside him, the way the pressure kept building, slow and unbearable, until he couldn’t control it anymore.
then he pulled back.
not far.
just enough to let the tip hang.
just enough to slap it.
his cockhead hit your ass once right over your twitching rim.
you gasped, body jolting softly under the weight.
it wasn’t rough.
it was intimate.
another loud slap again. louder this time.
sticky now.
wet.
a ring of his precum had built around your hole, glistening. and when he slapped himself down again, the sound was so filthy it echoed in the quiet room.
fuck, baby.
listen to her.
he slapped again.
you’re clenching every time i hit her.
you like that, don’t you?
you whimpered.
you didn’t say yes.
but your body did.
he pressed the tip back into your rim, slow and heavy, then dragged it down between your folds and back up again.
he could’ve slid in.
you both knew it.
but he didn’t.
he rubbed.
slow, sticky circles, cockhead grinding soft on your asshole, sliding down, collecting slick, dragging it back up like he was painting with it.
then the moan came.
thick.
guttural.
and then..
the first hot spurt.
right on your hole.
it landed heavy.
wet.
thick.
his cock twitched hard in his fist.
you held yourself open tighter.
the next spurt hit the curve of your cheek, then down the split between them, dripping into the mess of your folds.
fuckfuckfuck… your ass takes me so well.
she wanted this.
he was groaning through it, thrusting shallow, rubbing his cockhead through his own cum now, smearing it over your hole, circling it slowly while your body stayed arched, spread, obedient.
he didn’t stop moving.
even as he came, he kept rubbing.
cockhead swirling over your rim, dragging slick into your soft skin.
massaging it in.
you’re mine now, sweetheart.
you’d let me do this again.
no one else gets to see this hole twitch like this.
no one else gets to paint her.
he gave one more slow slap, thick with cum, letting it drizzle down your crease.
you stayed exactly where you were.
hands on your ass.
hole dilated.
pussy throbbing.
his breath on your back.
and he just kept rubbing.
soothing.
like it was never about the sex.
just the comfort of being buried in your warmth.
his calm.
his good girl.
his favorite place to break.
≧∀≦ this little filth has been rotting in my notes for literal months and i finally gave in.🎀
thank you for reading this💗💗
onlypinkslut
gojo satoru is obsessed with hitting your g-spot
the first time it happens, it’s an accident. a happy, filthy accident that rewires his entire brain in a single, shuddering second.
you’re beneath him, a mess of sighs and sweat-slick skin, his name a broken prayer on your lips. he’s fucking you with a relentless, possessive rhythm, the kind that leaves you breathless and seeing stars. his large hands are everywhere—gripping your hips, thumbing your nipples, tangled in your hair—because he can’t not be touching you, not be claiming every inch of you. he’s murmuring nonsense into the shell of your ear, a stream of obscene praise and degrading filth that makes you clench around him.
“so good for me, takin’ me so deep, fuck—gonna ruin you for anyone else, sweetheart, you know that? gonna make sure you only ever come on my cock.”
he shifts his angle, just slightly, trying to get even deeper, to bury himself in your heat until there’s no part of you he doesn’t own. and that’s when it happens. the head of his cock grinds against a spot inside you that makes your entire body seize. it’s not just a moan that tears from your throat; it’s a raw, guttural sound he’s never heard before, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure so intense it borders on pain.
your eyes, hazy with lust, fly wide open, but they don’t see him; they’re rolled back, seeing something else entirely. your back arches off the bed violently, and your nails dig into his shoulders hard enough to draw blood. you clench around him like a vice, a sudden, pulsating tightness that has him seeing white, his own rhythm stuttering.
and he freezes. completely. his hips still. his breath hitches. his infinity, a constant, subconscious hum around him, flickers and dies for a full three seconds. all the air leaves his lungs in a sharp, quiet hiss.
“what,” he whispers, the word a blunt, shocked thing in the humid air between you. “what was that?”
you’re still trembling, aftershocks wracking your frame, too far gone to form words, just mewling softly. he pulls back almost all the way, his gaze locked on your face, on the tear tracking through your temple, and then he pushes back in, slow, deliberate, aiming for that exact same spot.
he finds it.
the reaction is even more devastating. your mouth drops open in a silent scream, your body bowing up to meet his, a fresh flood of wetness coating him. a choked sob escapes you. “t-there, oh god, satoru, there—”
a switch flips in his head. a dark, possessive, ravenous switch he didn’t even know existed. his pretty blue eyes, usually alight with lazy amusement or arrogant power, go utterly black with a new kind of hunger. his lips curl into a smile that isn’t a smile at all—it’s a baring of teeth. a predator’s grin.
“oh,” he breathes, the sound dripping with a horrifying, beautiful realization. “oh, baby. there you are.”
from that moment, it’s all he can think about. his entire world narrows down to that one specific, devastating patch of flesh inside you. finding it, owning it, ruining you with it. he becomes a man obsessed.
he’ll fold you in half, your knees pressed to your chest, just so he can watch his cock slide in and out, his eyes glued to the point where your bodies meet, studying the way you clench, the way you gape for him, all so he can memorize the perfect angle.
he’ll spend hours, literal hours, teasing you with the tip of his cock, circling around that spot until you’re a sobbing, begging mess, before he finally, cruelly, grinds into it with a brutal precision that shatters you.
“is this it?” he’ll purr, his voice a low, wicked thing as he fucks into you with shallow, punishing thrusts that do nothing but abuse that single, perfect place. “this the spot that makes my good girl scream? this the spot that makes you forget your own name? fuck, you get so wet just from this, don’t you? just from me right here.” he’ll lean down, licking a stripe up your throat. “say thank you, satoru.”
he becomes a creepy, perverted bastard for it. he’ll corner you in the kitchen, pressing against you from behind, his hand sneaking between your legs while his mouth is on your neck. “shh, just wanna feel it,” he’ll murmur, fingers working you open, searching for that specific texture, that specific ripple, just to feel you come apart on his hand because he can.
because it’s his. he’ll wake you up in the middle of the night with his head between your thighs, his tongue imitating the exact corkscrew motion of his cock, lapping at you until you’re crying into the pillow, all because he had a dream about finding your spot.
he talks to it. he praises it. “such a good little spot, just for me. nobody’s ever found you before, have they? just me, only me.” he’ll kiss your stomach, right above where his cock is buried deep inside you, fucking into that place with a reverence that is fundamentally obscene. “gonna live right here, baby. gonna make you cum until you’re stupid with it. until the only thing you know is my name and this feeling.”
he’s obsessed with the way your face changes when he hits it—the way your pupils blow out, the way your jaw goes slack, the way you look not just pleasured, but utterly destroyed. owned.
he’s addicted to the sounds you make, sounds he’s convinced no one else has ever pulled from you. he records them sometimes, on his phone, just the audio, and plays it back for you later, watching you blush, his finger tracing your lips. “listen to that, that’s my good work. that’s me.”
he’s a freak for it. his greatest pride isn’t his limitless technique, his title, his strength. it’s the fact that he is the only person on the planet who knows how to break you like this.
the only one who knows the exact pressure, the exact angle, the exact pace to make you see god. he’ll hold you down and whisper, “you’re mine, all mine. this sweet, filthy little part of you… it has my name on it.” and he’ll prove it, over and over and over again, until you believe it too. until the only thing you crave is the filthy, nasty, dirty way your obsessed freak finds that perfect spot and ruins you with it, completely and forever.
Imagine having a perverted ghost obsessed with exposing you. They gradually turn you into the town whore.
It starts with your clothes disappearing. You go to your closet and all you have for bottoms are skirts. Your panties and bras disappear one by one until you just stop wearing them.
Whenever you walk by a man in public, your skirt blows up whether there's wind or not. Every man in town has seen your pussy by now. Many of them see it daily.
If you're wearing white, you can guarantee you'll have water spilled on you at some point during the day. People like to joke about your free wet tshirt contests.
Your shirt unbuttons itself while you talk to people. Most people don't mention it anymore. They just stare at your bare tits until you realize.
People in town trade the best stories of seeing you naked. That time your bikini fell off at the beach and you couldn't find it and the day the wind blew your sundress fully off at the town fair are top favorites.
Eventually, people get bolder. They start taking photos of your clothing mishaps. The ghost is always sure to hold your skirt up long enough for them to get a good shot. Pictures of your ass, tits, and pussy are everywhere.
Not only do they not tell you when your shirt falls open, people start to grope you. It's not even worth fighting it. You let them feel you up until they've had their fill. Eventually, people don't even pretend they need to talk to you. They come to see you just to play with your tits.
The ghost doesn't even need to lift your skirt anymore. People in town will lift it up just to squeeze or slap your ass.
You get used to being fingered out in public. On the bus, in line at the store, even at work. Everyone has seen your pussy anyway.
People start licking your pussy every time you ride the bus. You sit with your legs open so people can taste you on their morning commute. You don't remember what it was like to ride the bus without a tongue inside you.
Every man in town as fucked you at some point. Most of the women too. Instead of paying at the store, you bend over and let anyone present abuse your pussy. You lose count of how many men shove their dick inside you daily.
Your porn becomes the town's main export. Videos of you being fucked in every possible location are all over the internet. People travel to town just to fuck you. Instead of shaking hands, you introduce yourself by spreading your legs.
Farmboy Fuck Session -C.K
Synopsis: Clark’s back in Smallville helping Ma on the farm. You visit him midday, and he’s shirtless, sweaty, and pissed you wore that little sundress. He bends you over the tractor and fucks you until your knees give out. “You wore this tiny thing on my family’s land? Oh, you’re getting bred.”
cw: Explicit smut. Unprotected sex. Semi-public sex (in barn). Breeding kink. Dom!Clark Kent. Rough sex. Possessive behavior. Spanking. Light degradation. Dirty talk. Creampie. Manhandling. Reader wears a short sundress with no bra/panties. Rustic setting (tractor sex). Mild dumbification.
The sun was high and brutal over the Kent farm, and Clark was glistening—shirtless, forearms flexed, hay sticking to his skin, and sweat dripping down the line of his spine as he hoisted another heavy crate off the back of the truck.
You were not supposed to be staring. But there you were, leaning against the fence post in a tiny yellow sundress with absolutely no business being that short, pretending you didn’t wear it on purpose.
“You lost?” Clark called across the field, teasing, squinting against the sun. “This ain’t the city, sweetheart.”
You grinned and waved. “Thought I’d stop by. See how the world's strongest farmhand was holding up.”
“Strongest?” he laughed, brushing hay off his shoulder. “You’re lucky Ma’s not here. She’d put you to work just for saying that.”
“Please.” You pushed off the post and started walking toward him. “Like she’d put this in a field.” You twirled once, the hem of your dress fluttering dangerously high.
Clark’s smile faltered. “You wore that here?”
“Mmhmm.” You batted your lashes. “Too much?”
“On my family’s land?” he snapped, dropping the crate with a heavy thud. “What, you trying to kill me?”
You blinked innocently. “You don’t like it?”
“I love it,” he growled. “That’s the goddamn problem.” The next thing you knew, Clark was on you—backing you into the barn, lips already claiming yours, hands grabbing at your waist. your dress was already hiked up around your thighs.
“C-Clark—someone might see—”
JOE KEERY as STEVE HARRINGTON Stranger Things 5 Trailer
being best friend with rafe cameron in s1 means having your chest stared at constantly. sorry to say, but this boy gets no play whatsoever, and he’s absolutely shameless with the way he watches.
it doesn’t matter what you’re wearing — bikini top, a thin little tank top, even a cute little dress — rafe’s eyes drop. every time. he’ll act like he’s listening, nodding along with whatever you’re saying, but he’s not. he’s distracted. zoned out. zoning in. his gaze lingers just a second too long, his tongue pressing to the inside of his cheek like he’s trying to behave, but failing.
he’s the worst when you stretch. or lean over. or sit cross-legged in the grass with your arms behind you, supporting your weight and pushing your chest out just a little too much. he doesn’t even try to be slick about it anymore. sometimes he makes a little noise under his breath — barely audible, like damn — and then he looks away all innocent, like he wasn’t just mentally undressing you while sipping a capri sun.
and you don’t think much of it, honestly. it’s just rafe being rafe — always a little too much of a guy, always a little too obvious.
he’ll offer you his hoodie half the time, not because you’re cold — because he needs a goddamn break. he’s losing his mind.
and the worst part? he finds himself constantly adjusting his shorts around you, every time you turn away from him.
YES u are absolutely right
"you good, baby?" as he thrusts into me in a swift movement.
From three years of being the greatest chums, the firmest of friends, part-time lovers and occasional time-travellers.
Hi fun Doctor Who thought: I think if the show ever wanted to be Super Clever, then the season leading up to a regeneration should have 1 episode that has some EXTREME plot holes, like to the point fans are like "how did they ever fix x they never explained that". Like even the Doctor is like "yeah I'm not really sure what happened to that". HOWEVER that episode should also feature one of the companions bumping into a couple of people that are walking past. It should look like a cameo, at least one of the actors should be semi-well known. A couple weeks after that, the semi-well known actor should be announced as the next doctor.
AND THEN IN THE NEXT SEASON: the regenerated doctor and the new companion land in the same spot (cause we know damn well the Doctor loves to visit the same time periods and places over and over) and the Doctor realizes "oh wait. I'm who cleaned that up" and like half the episode should just be them trying to avoid the past incarnation. If possible these episodes should be filmed at the same time.
Whatever the title of the first episode was, the episode in the next season is called pt. 2.
THEY WILL NEVER DO IT BUT I THINK IT WOULD BE NEAT.
Doctor Who The Doctor, The Widow, and the Wardrobe | 2011
james potter was born to be a girl dad. period.
“If I am in fact thick, my god, that’s the dream. Because when I was a kid I was the opposite, I was a streak of piss as you might say. So any thickness, or anyone claiming thickness, I appreciate.” - Andrew Garfield [x]
i want to- *remembers suicide jokes only worsen my mental health* kill someone else
