Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
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@gojou-violin
𝐫𝐡𝐲𝐬 | 𝟐𝟒 | 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲/𝐬𝐡𝐞/𝐡𝐞 | 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 | 𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢 | 𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢-𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦
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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐖.𝐈.𝐏𝐬
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𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐒: 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝
𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐒: 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝
𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒: 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝
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waiting for megumi's class to end so they can play ૮⍝• ᴥ •⍝ა
:3
Tell them what you saw in me
uncle!toji x fem!reader “let me check your temperature.”🎀
CW: NSFW 18+, tw inc*st, dubcon, age gap, fever care used as manipulation, non-consensual undertones, inappropriate touching, pussy inspection, oral (f. receiving), handjob, grooming, authority abuse, obsessive behavior, power imbalance, dark themes, praising, pervy uncle toji
ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
you don't remember much from before your mom left.
just that one night, she dropped you off and never came back. left you with her older brother-the one who always smelled like aftershave and gunpowder and sweat, the one with rough hands and tired eyes who never smiled unless someone bled for it.
uncle toji.
he didn't talk much at first. didn't know what to do with a kid. but he fed you, bought your school books, signed your papers, showed up at parent-teacher meetings like he actually gave a fuck. and he never touched you. not at first.
but he looked. looked too long when you'd stretch in your sleep. when your chest started filling out. when you started washing your own panties but still left them drying out in the hallway like you didn't know any better.
eventually, he started inspecting you.
"ain't no one else gonna make sure you're clean," he muttered that first time, voice low as he crouched down in front of you. "you think your mom is gonna care if you're infected or sore or start bleedin' down there? she’s too busy chasing younger men. ”
his hand was already up your skirt.
"i'm just checkin', sweetheart. just makin' sure."
he always said it like that-soft. gentle. like it was a favor. like you were the one being protected. and you wanted to believe him. you were young. you didn't know better. didn't understand why your throat tightened every time his thumb brushed your inner thigh. why your stomach twisted when he'd sigh and mutter that he was "gonna have to be thorough again tonight.'
he touched you like you were something fragile.
like you were his.
you’d been feeling off all day. tired, achy. something weird in your stomach, a tightness you couldn’t name.
“probably just the heat,” you mumbled when he asked, curling into the couch with a blanket.
but he didn’t let it slide. toji never did. he crouched in front of you, calloused fingers brushing against your cheek, back of his hand pressed to your forehead.
“you’re warm,” he said, almost to himself. “gonna need to check.”
you blinked up at him, confused. “check what?”
he didn’t answer. just scooped you up—like it was nothing, like you weighed less than the gun he kept under his bed—and carried you to your room. laid you out on the mattress like you were something delicate. breakable.
“lay still, sweetheart,” he murmured. “lemme do my job, yeah?”
his job. like this was some chore. like touching you—inspecting you—was just part of the responsibility he’d inherited along with your birth certificate.
his hands moved slow at first. tugged your shorts down your legs with a soft tsk at the dampness in the crotch.
“you been sweatin’ down here, huh?” he murmured, thumb brushing the thin strip of cotton between your thighs. “can’t leave that sittin’ wet. you’ll get an infection.”
you squirmed. “but—i’m fine, really—”
he gave you a look. that one. the one that shut you up every time.
“stop talkin’ back,” he said gently. “i’m tryna help you. don’t make this weird.”
you nodded, swallowing hard. tried not to look as his hand slipped under your panties, warm and slow, fingers spreading you open with clinical precision. his thumb pressed low on your tummy, the other hand cupping between your legs.
“gotta check your glands,” he muttered. “see if there’s any swelling.”
you didn’t know what glands he meant. you didn’t ask. just bit your lip and lay still as his fingers brushed places no one else had ever touched.
and then he sighed—low, husky, like he was tired—and leaned down.
“you smell clean,” he said near your hip. “sweet, even. good girl.”
his thumbs hooked into the band of your panties, and with one slow pull, he dragged them down your thighs. he didn’t rush. didn’t leer. just watched—eyes calm, steady—like he was unwrapping something fragile.
“need to check down here too,” he muttered, almost apologetic, even as his thumbs came back to part your folds. “sometimes fever hides in the softest places.”
you blinked at him, confused. “i—what? that’s not—”
“shh,” he said, voice low. patient. “don’t get worked up. i know what i’m doing.”
his thumb pressed against your clit—not rubbing, not circling, just resting there. firm and warm.
“feel that?” he asked softly. “you’re a little swollen. heat collects here first. that’s why you’ve been achy.”
you bit your lip, your whole body tense. it felt wrong. too intimate. but he didn’t look cruel. he didn’t sound cruel.
just… concerned. steady. familiar.
“this isn’t anything bad,” he said, voice dipping into something gentler. his fingers shifted—spreading you wider, exposing every slick, sensitive inch to the open air. “just makin’ sure you’re not sick, baby. i’d never let anything happen to you.”
you swallowed hard. “but—i don’t think this is how you—”
his gaze flicked up, sharp but calm. “you trust me, don’t you?”
you hesitated. nodded.
he smiled. that soft, proud smile that always made you feel like a kid again. safe. stupid.
“good girl,” he said. “then let me take care of you.”
his thumb dipped lower, grazing your entrance. warm. slow.
and beneath all that calm—his other hand, the one he’d placed so casually on your thigh—was trembling slightly. you didn’t notice. not at first.
but he did.
he exhaled through his nose, shifting closer between your legs.
“you’re burnin’ up,” he murmured. “might need to check a little deeper.”
you didn’t answer. couldn’t.
his fingers were already moving again—one hand holding you open, the other sliding down, tracing the slick heat at your entrance with a kind of clinical precision that made your stomach twist.
“just need to see how far the fever goes,” he whispered, like it was some routine exam. like the pulse of his dick under his sweats wasn’t getting harder with every second he spent between your thighs.
he eased a finger in. slow. deliberate.
your breath hitched.
“shh. easy now,” he soothed. “it’s okay. i know it’s sensitive. you’re just a little inflamed, that’s all.”
his finger curled slightly. then paused.
“see? right here,” he said, pressing against the tender spot inside you. “fever always settles in the glands first. gets ’em swollen.”
you blinked, lips parting. “i… i didn’t know that.”
“’course not,” he said gently. “you’re not supposed to. that’s why you’ve got me.”
he pulled back just enough to add a second finger, stretching you open slow—his palm warm against your skin, his breath catching just barely.
“you’re doin’ so good for me, baby. lettin’ me help you like this,” he murmured, tone low and sweet, but the tension in his jaw betrayed him. he was trying to stay composed, but you could feel it—how tight he was wound. how hard.
“so warm in here,” he added, glancing up at you with something darker in his eyes now. “you’d get worse if i didn’t catch this early.”
he rocked his fingers once. slow. deep.
your hips jerked, and he held you down gently with one hand over your stomach.
“no moving,” he said, soft but firm. “don’t want you hurtin’ yourself.”
your chest rose and fell in shaky breaths. your skin prickled with sweat. you weren’t sure what he was doing anymore. it didn’t feel like anything you remembered from health class. but the way he spoke—the steady calm, the warmth in his voice—made it hard to argue. hard to think.
“you’re okay,” he reassured again, fingertips brushing your walls like they were made of silk. “you’re safe. i’ve got you.”
and then, quietly—like he couldn’t help himself, like the words slipped out without thinking—
“such a pretty pussy, even when you’re sick.”
you froze.
he didn’t.
just leaned in, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh, soft and careful. reverent.
“then we’ll clean you up real gentle. make you feel better.”
his fingers finally slipped free, coated in your slick. he didn’t wipe them off. didn’t even glance down. just rested his hand on your thigh, thumb brushing lazy circles into your skin like it was some calming gesture.
your body was trembling now—confused, flushed, warm in places you didn’t have words for.
“we’re almost done, sweetheart,” he said, reaching for the hem of your tank top. “but if you’re runnin’ a fever, your chest’ll show it too. skin gets blotchy. sensitive.”
your breath caught. “you really think—”
“shh,” he murmured again. “don’t ask questions. just trust me.”
and you did. because he was family. because he always knew what to do. because his voice was soft, his touch was steady, and you were tired. so tired.
he lifted the shirt slow. bunched the fabric under your arms. didn’t grope, didn’t squeeze—just stared for a moment, eyes dragging over your bare chest like he was committing it to memory.
“pretty,” he whispered. “even when you’re not feelin’ good.”
his palm came to rest over one breast. heavy. warm.
“does this feel sore?” he asked, rubbing slow. “your glands run through here too.”
you shook your head. “i don’t think so.”
“we’ll see,” he said, and leaned down—pressing a kiss just above your nipple. not quite on it. soft. like a father kissing a scraped knee.
“good girl,” he praised, his voice dipped in honey. “you’re bein’ real brave.”
he kissed again, this time lower. closer.
your chest rose, a shaky breath stuttering from your throat—and when he finally pulled back, he caught your gaze, eyes soft.
“you’re alright,” he said. “just a little under the weather.”
and then—like it was the most natural thing in the world—he leaned in and kissed your lips.
just a peck.
barely there.
but it wasn’t nothing.
you blinked, startled. “what—”
he hushed you with another. another soft brush of his mouth against yours. again. and again.
“don’t pout,” he said gently, like he was soothing a child. “just a little kiss. you’re my girl, aren’t you?”
your brows knit, but your body stayed still beneath him. his hand was still over your breast. his thigh warm against your hip. and his breath… it smelled like mint and something darker. something heavy.
“toji,” you whispered.
his eyes flicked up, smile too calm. too knowing.
“mm?” he hummed, thumb stroking your nipple now, slow and coaxing. “what is it, baby?”
you didn’t answer. couldn’t.
his hand moved in slow circles, cupping the softness of your chest like he was weighing something delicate—his thumb brushing over your nipple until it started to harden, traitorous and warm under his touch.
“you’re sensitive,” he murmured, almost to himself. “that’s normal, with fever. blood rushes to the surface. makes your skin real reactive.”
he leaned in again, and this time the kiss landed just below your bottom lip. soft. slow. his nose brushed yours.
“your body’s just confused,” he whispered. “doesn’t know if it needs rest or comfort. you’re lucky i know how to give you both.”
another kiss. to your jaw. then your chin. your lip again.
“see?” he murmured. “nothing to worry about.”
his hand dipped lower again, sliding across your stomach, fingers tracing your hip, then in between your legs—just resting there now, warm and possessive, like he was entitled to the weight of you.
and his other hand, still cupping your breast, gave a gentle squeeze. not rough. not fast. just… deliberate.
you made a tiny sound in your throat.
he pulled back just a little, looked down at you. his face was calm. too calm.
“does that feel good, sweetheart?”
you blinked up at him, startled. “i… i don’t know.”
his expression softened like you’d said something innocent.
“s’okay,” he whispered. “you don’t gotta know yet. you’re still young. that’s why i’m here.”
his hand between your legs shifted—palm cupping you, heat pulsing into your skin. he wasn’t moving fast. he wasn’t even rubbing. just holding. like he was claiming the right to touch you and didn’t need permission.
“it’s just comfort,” he said again, fingers stroking low and lazy. “just me takin’ care of my girl. you need this, don’t you?”
and then he kissed you again.
deeper, this time.
still slow. still soft. but his tongue slipped out, brushing your bottom lip like it was an accident.
you didn’t stop him.
he smiled into the kiss, the corner of his mouth curling like he’d won something.
“atta girl,” he breathed, breaking the kiss just enough to speak. “let me make you feel better, yeah?”
his fingers started to move again—slow circles over your pussy now, his palm firm against your heat. and when he leaned down again to kiss you, he moaned—quietly, barely there, like he couldn’t help it.
like you didn’t even notice.
but he did.
and it made him throb harder.
he let out a slow breath, palm still heavy on your inner thigh. you could feel the heat from him, his rough fingers brushing lightly over your folds, spreading slick down to your entrance like he was testing you.
“you’re burnin’ up, baby,” he murmured, voice soft but low. “gonna need to check your chest too. fever can spread, y’know.”
before you could answer, his hands were already moving—tugging your oversized shirt up over your stomach, bunching the fabric just beneath your ribs. you weren’t wearing a bra. you never did at home.
he paused.
looked.
and fuck, the way his eyes darkened made your stomach flip.
“they’re gettin’ bigger,” he muttered, like it wasn’t completely wrong for him to notice. his thumbs brushed over your nipples—once, then again, firmer when they peaked under his touch. “sensitive?”
you nodded, lips parted, breath hitching.
he hummed. “that’s normal. hormones. but i gotta make sure they’re not sore from the fever.”
he cupped one breast in his palm, warm and rough, and squeezed just enough to make you twitch.
“jesus,” he breathed, almost to himself. “so soft. so fuckin’ perfect.”
you tried to cover your face, but he caught your wrist and pinned it down beside you.
“none of that,” he said. “don’t hide from me. not when i’m takin’ care of you.”
his fingers flicked your nipple, rolled it between calloused pads until you were arching up into his hand without even meaning to. your thighs clenched. your breath came out shaky.
his fingers slipped out of you with a wet sound, sticky strings of slick still connecting them to your cunt. he watched it stretch—wet and glistening in the low light—before rubbing it between his fingers and smearing it over your hip, slow and deliberate.
“you’re way too hot,” he muttered, half to himself. “not just down there either.”
you blinked, dazed. “what…?”
“fever travels, baby,” he said, already tugging your shirt up higher, exposing the soft curve of your stomach, then your ribs, then—“i need to feel if it’s spread to your chest.”
your mouth parted, but no words came. and even if they had, he wouldn’t have stopped.
his hand cupped under one breast—gentle, heavy—and then the other, thumbs brushing over the soft, flushed peaks.
“jesus,” he breathed. “you feel like fire all over. that ain’t normal.”
you whimpered when he pinched one nipple lightly between his fingers, rubbing the soft bud until it peaked tight and pretty.
“glands here can get tender too,” he said, like it was a medical fact. “especially in girls your age.”
he rolled the other one between rough fingers, watching the way your breath hitched, the way your back arched just a little into his palm.
“you ever feel sore here before?” he asked, tone dark and knowing.
you shook your head, but your body was already betraying you—thighs squeezing, hips twitching when his thumb flicked your nipple again.
“hm. just sensitive, then.” he leaned closer, breath hot against your ear. “nothing wrong with that. means you’re growin’ up.”
he paused—eyes dragging over your body, his hand still gripping your tit like it belonged to him.
“but what was i supposed to do? ignore you? pretend you weren’t gettin’ prettier every damn day?”
you looked up at him, blinking slowly, lips trembling.
his fingers were back between your legs again—slow, patient, filthy.
“uncle’s gonna take care of you, baby. even if no one else ever will.”
he moaned into your mouth again—barely audible, more breath than sound—but it made your stomach twist. not with fear, not exactly. just… confusion. something unnameable.
and then he kissed you harder.
not rough, but deeper. fuller. his tongue slipped past your lips like it had every right to be there, coaxing your mouth open with soft strokes and a hand that held your jaw steady, thumb brushing under your chin.
“shh, just let me,” he murmured, breaking the kiss for a second to breathe. “you don’t have to do anything. just let me take care of you.”
his other hand hadn’t stopped moving—still stroking you down there, fingers tracing slick, warm circles that made your thighs tense without permission. your body didn’t know how to react. you didn’t even understand why it felt good. it just did.
he shifted, his thigh pressing tighter to your side now—and you felt it.
his cock.
hard.
throbbing.
resting against your hip through the thin fabric of his sweats, thick and unmistakable.
you blinked, heart jumping.
but he didn’t move away.
he didn’t apologize.
instead, he let out a shaky breath, like he was the one overwhelmed.
“don’t think about that,” he whispered. “just a reaction. it’s not your fault.”
his fingers dipped lower, rubbing between your folds now, slow and steady. “your body’s callin’ for comfort. mine’s just… answerin’.
his lips brushed your ear. “you’re not dirty for needin’ touch, baby. it’s human.”
you whimpered, overwhelmed, but he kissed you again—soft and lingering.
then another.
and another.
short little pecks like he was trying to calm you down.
his hand on your chest squeezed softly. “fever’s still there. you’re flushin’. it’s alright. we’re just gonna ride it out.”
and then his voice dropped. quiet. dark. almost like he forgot to censor it.
“feel so fuckin’ warm down there…”
you stilled.
he didn’t.
just shifted his hips, grinding slightly against your side now—barely, but enough for you to feel how badly he wanted it. how hard he was trying not to move more.
his mouth brushed yours again.
“toji—”
“shh,” he hushed, gently cupping your face, pressing a kiss to your lips. “i know. i know it’s weird. but it’s just me. you know me. i’d never hurt you.”
another kiss. slower. longer.
“we’ll stop soon,” he promised. “just a little more. just need to… make sure you’re okay.”
his fingers pushed in again. two of them this time. slow. thick. deep.
your lips parted, a tiny sound slipping free.
and he smiled.
like that was all the permission he’d ever need.
his smile stayed, soft and warm like it always was—but something behind it had shifted. you could feel it. in the weight of his gaze, the heat of his fingers still buried inside you.
he rocked them slowly, curling them just enough to hit something that made your legs twitch. your breath hitched again.
“there it is,” he murmured. “your body’s relaxin’ now. s’okay. that’s what it’s supposed to do. ”
his other hand slid down, past your ribs, across your stomach—then lower, until it rested on the back of your thigh, pulling your legs open a little wider.
his head dipped again, lips brushing your jaw, then trailing lower. a kiss to your throat. your collarbone. soft little pecks that felt sweet and wrong all at once.
“you’re helpin’ me too, you know,” he murmured. “feelin’ you like this… s’calming. reminds me what i’m here for.”
you blinked up at him, dazed. “but… i thought you said i was sick.”
he chuckled softly, hand moving between your thighs again, fingers spreading you open like you were nothing more than a patient on a table.
“you are,” he said. “but sometimes, touch helps both ways. calms your nervous system. helps regulate mine, too. it’s called bonding.”
you weren’t sure that was true.
but then he took your hand.
gently. slowly.
brought it to the hard bulge in his pants.
your eyes widened.
“feel that?” he asked, voice low, breath warm against your ear. “s’nothing to be scared of. just… tension. it’s what happens when i focus too hard. body holds onto it.”
he guided your fingers over him, pressing your hand firmly against the thick outline beneath the fabric. he was hot. twitching. too big.
“you don’t have to do anything,” he whispered. “just let me hold your hand there. that’s enough. it’s comfort. we’re just helping each other.”
your lips parted. you didn’t pull away.
his hips shifted slightly, pressing into your palm.
“fuck,” he breathed. “see? already feelin’ better.”
his lips found yours again—another slow, open kiss, his tongue sliding against yours like it was second nature now. his fingers didn’t stop moving inside you, pumping gentle, steady strokes that made your thighs tremble.
he broke the kiss only to whisper against your lips:
“you’re so good for me. always knew you would be.”
his fingers finally slid out of you, soaked and warm. he rubbed your thigh, your hip, soothing like you were still trembling from a fever—not from what he’d done. and then he shifted lower, dragging his mouth across your stomach in slow, damp kisses.
“we’re gonna cool you down,” he murmured, lips brushing the crease of your thigh. “gonna help the swelling. can’t let it get worse.”
he knelt between your legs like it was some sacred ritual—his hands spreading you again, thumbs parting you open so gently it made your skin burn. and then he leaned in.
and kissed you.
right there.
your whole body jerked.
but he didn’t stop.
his tongue slid through your folds, slow and warm, almost lazy. not rushed. not hungry. devoted.
like it was medicine.
“fever’s high,” he whispered, breathing against your pussy. “you’re pulsin’ down here, baby. poor thing.”
he kissed you again, right on your clit this time—soft, suckling pressure that made your back arch. his hands gripped your thighs, grounding you, holding you open like this was necessary. like this was love.
“toji—”
“shh,” he murmured, licking deeper. “i know it’s a lot. but you need this.”
his tongue pressed into your entrance, flicking gently, then licking a long stripe up to your clit again.
“see?” he said, voice husky now, lips wet. “your body’s respondin’. that means it’s workin’. i’m helpin’ you.”
he kissed you again, over and over, mouth worshiping you like it was a treatment. like it was holy. and in between those wet, slow licks, he kept talking—kept guiding.
“you’re too young to know, but real men… real cocks…” his breath hitched as he ground against the mattress under him, hips twitching. “they get like this when they love somethin’ soft. warm. pretty.”
he looked up at you from between your legs, chin slick.
“you ever seen one, sweetheart? a real cock?”
you blinked, dazed. “no…”
he smiled. slow. dangerous.
“then maybe it’s time i taught you.”
he kissed her again—softer this time. slower.
his tongue circled her clit, warm and steady, and then he dipped lower, dragging it down until his lips found her folds, kissing along the slick seam before gently sucking one side between his lips.
he moaned softly. content.
his teeth grazed your labia—just enough to make you flinch, but he soothed it instantly with his tongue.
“s’just me,” he breathed, lips still brushing your pussy. “just makin’ sure everything’s healthy. no pain, right?”
you whimpered, thighs shaking. “n-no.”
he smiled, nuzzling lower, tongue lapping slow and deliberate.
“good girl. your little pussy’s learnin’ how to take care of real men.”
you blinked, dazed, heat flooding your chest. “real men?”
he nodded against you, mouth pressing more kisses—this time wetter, more possessive.
“mhm. real men don’t act like those boys you’ve seen on tv. they don’t fumble around. they don’t ask permission every second like they’re scared.”
he sucked your clit again, slower this time—his fingers gripping your thighs tighter as he rutted his hips once against the mattress, trying to control himself.
“real men know how to handle a girl. make her feel safe. make her feel good.”
you whimpered, trying to close your legs, but he kept you wide open, spreading you further with both hands now, his thumbs brushing your swollen folds like he was showing you off.
“see how your pussy looks?” he murmured, tongue sliding between your folds again. “this is what a man wants to come home to. soft, warm, drippin’ for him.”
he kissed your labia again—open-mouthed, wet kisses—then bit down gently, sucking the skin between his lips like he was marking it.
“don’t squirm,” he chided softly. “can’t help it, baby. you’re just so fuckin’ sweet down here.”
his hand moved then—reaching down between his own legs, tugging his sweats down with one rough pull.
and then you saw it.
thick. veiny. flushed dark and angry against his stomach. heavy, drooling with precum. huge.
he watched your reaction with a soft smile.
“you’ve never seen one, huh?” he murmured. “c’mere. it’s okay. just look.”
he took your hand again—guiding it toward him—and wrapped your fingers around the base.
it pulsed.
you gasped.
“that’s what a real man’s cock feels like,” he whispered, groaning softly as your hand closed around him. “hot, right? heavy. full of need. it’s what you do to me, baby. just by lyin’ there.”
he guided your hand slowly, helping you stroke him—your tiny fingers barely wrapping around him, moving up and down over the slippery length.
and all the while, his mouth went back to your pussy.
kissing.
biting.
moaning.
his voice was ragged now, deeper, cracking with arousal as he licked you like it was his only purpose.
“fuck, you’re perfect. softest little cunt i ever tasted. and now your hand on my cock, fuck—feels like heaven.”
his cock throbbed in your hand—thick and slick with heat, twitching against your palm like it had a heartbeat of its own.
toji moaned low in his throat, forehead resting against your thigh as he licked another slow stripe up your pussy. his voice was muffled, strained.
“just like that, baby,” he breathed. “hold it steady. you’re doin’ so good for me.”
you looked down, dazed, lips parted. his tongue circled your clit again, slow and wet, making your legs shake—your other hand gripping the sheets while he rocked against your grip.
“this is… weird,” you whispered, voice cracking. “i thought i was—i still feel sick…”
he chuckled, lifting his head to kiss your inner thigh. “you’re not sick, baby. not like that. your body’s just… overwhelmed. fever’s just your nerves catchin’ up.”
his hips pushed into your hand again, guiding it with his own. slow strokes, from the base to the leaking tip.
“this helps me feel better too, you know,” he murmured, lips brushing your mound. “you’re takin’ care of me now. like a real good girl.”
his voice dropped, lower, throatier, needier.
“fuck—you feel how hard you got me? just from touchin’ you, tastin’ you…”
his breathing hitched. his hips started to rock harder into your grip, cock flexing with each pass of your hand.
and still, his mouth was on you.
kissing.
sucking.
devouring.
“look at me,” he growled softly, lifting his head. his lips were soaked, beard damp with you. “look at what you’re doin’ to me.”
you did.
watched his hand wrap over yours, stroking faster now, his cock glistening and thick—his veins bulging, his jaw clenched.
“fuck, baby—don’t stop,” he groaned. “i’m so close. just—keep touchin’ me. just like that—”
his eyes rolled back.
his whole body tensed.
and then he came.
hot, thick ropes of cum spilled across your hand, his stomach, your hip—sticky and warm, painting your skin as he groaned through gritted teeth, burying his face in your thigh.
“fuck… baby girl…” he panted, voice wrecked. “you took such good care of me…”
he kissed your hip. your stomach. your trembling fingers.
“i’m never gonna forget this,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. “never.”
ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
thank you for reading, this one was sticky, slow, and wrong in all the right ways, hope you liked it🤭💌
© honeyslutpoetry
♡ happy birthday to the one and only johnny suh! ♡
↳ johnny according to tumblr tags
writing? oh, i’m definitely writing. in my head. during the most inconvenient times. like in the shower or when i’m about to fall asleep. actual typing? no, no, we don’t do that here.
johnny // 250119 nct 127 4th tour 'neo city: seoul - the momentum'
hey ik u have a new acc now but I adore ur fics🥹❤️
aw thank you! <3 i'm around, i just write for a diff fandom now~~
He finally fell asleep in the arms of his big teddy bear
S
cuteness aggression
Bath time
🕯 🕯 🕯
🕯 May you have the 🕯
🕯 absolute thirstiest 🕯
🕯 of thirst dreams of 🕯
🕯 whatever fictional 🕯
🕯 character you’re 🕯
🕯 hyper-fixating on at 🕯
🕯 the moment 🕯
🕯 🕯 🕯
˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷ 𝑀𝒴 𝒫𝑅𝐸𝒯𝒯𝒴 𝐵𝒜𝐵𝐼𝐸𝒮 ꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ
i’m truly not really active on here but i wanted to take a moment to appreciate my cutie mooties🥺🌱
✩ @emomanswhore @st4rbwrry @smiley-babe @tojiscumdumpster @thebimbopalace @torawro @angels-interlude @ramonathinks @pswrld @playgrl0 @prettyboykatsuki @f4irycafe @garoujo @gojou-violin @jaeggerbombb @luvkun4 @c0pkiller @creampz @backwzzds @merakidoll @maginxlia @magxnoria @chrollohearttags @dorkfilmz @br4tphobia @sosaaist @luvacookie @indiecursor @kanekisfavoritegf @dimepdf @chosovixen
{🌿} if i missed you, im sorry😣 i don’t know how many mutuals i truly have. i just know some from the top of my head! and if you don’t think of me as a mutual…then this is embarrassing☝🏽and you can ignore it.
warnings: dub con ? (cursed speech), nsfw 🔞, virgin inumaki and reader, (inumaki is aged up to 19)
boyfriend!inumaki who accidentally groans ‘fuck’ as you guys makeout and before he can stop you, you’re already pulling his cock out of his boxers, slipping your loose shorts and panties to the side and sitting on it till the hilt before you snap out of your daze.
your eyes drop to examine your connection, and even though you seemed to have initiated it, you’re still taken aback by the sight. his cursed speech had never been used against you before and honestly it kind of scares you how powerful it is.
“y—you’re inside me—” you gasp out, shock and terror in your expression and tone. his hands fly to dig his fingers into your hips to keep you from moving as he grunts.
Damn Nobara back and suddenly my entire twt timeline saying they never doubted gege. yall fake as fuck
Happy Fanfic Writer Appreciation Day
This goes out to all the people who take time out of their day to write and give us readers a piece of their soul when they share their fic with us. All the writers who write long fics, multi chaps, one shots, drabbles, thirsts, or simply day dream What Could Be with the characters they love and promise to put dream to paper one day. Thank you for sharing with all of us. Thank you for all the smiles and laughs, tears, the hurt we sometimes need to feel, and for all the Fix It and Comfort fics.
This one’s for all the people who stare at blank documents hoping inspiration they once had will find them again. It may take time, but you’ll get there ❤️
This is for all the writers who never make it on rec lists. Your fics are important. They still matter regardless of what list they appear on. Thank you for all the time and love you put into your stories :)
This goes out to the writers who write for rare pairs or side characters who don’t get enough love. Someone out there is searching for something so specific, and they’re going to find your fic and enjoy the hell out of it because that’s exactly what they needed.
A special shout out to the people who leave comments screaming about their favorite parts or try to work out what will happen next.
You all make the fandom what it is 💖
