SATORU GOJO :: fratjo and his curated instagram profile!
(18+) :: content – frat!gojo x fem!reader, college au, smut, switch!gojo, p in v, riding, pussydrunk gojo
frat!gojo is one of those guys with a heavily curated instagram profile.
it’s not that it’s overly nonchalant, or so quiet that it looks painfully intentional, but so effortlessly busy while maintaining an air of carelessness that he makes it look like a modern day art form.
it’s all witty captions (“siri, set an alarm for those sleeping on me”, who even thinks of that?), vaguely motion-blurred pictures of neon lights and solo cups, polo clubs and martinis, late nights at the frat house, and highlights of well-shot travel pictures and selfies.
it just seems like he always knows exactly what kind of picture to take in what setting, exactly what makes him look good in front of the many people (many.) that are hungry to see what’s going on in satoru’s life. it doesn’t even seem like he’s actively trying to show off how cool and interesting and luxurious his life is – he just fucking does it.
the cherry on top? an absolutely lethal follower-to-following ratio. satoru doesn’t even follow back half of the thousands of followers he’s got.
in short: he’s got it down to a science. you’d think you knew exactly who he was simply based on the curation of his profile.
at least, that’s what you think when your sorority friends first show you his account.
you – well, you’re the type of person who’s seen it all before.
you think you’ve got it down to a science too, because you’ve always been able to accurately predict exactly who someone is based on what their social media looks like. and the minute your friends show you satoru gojo’s instagram, you don’t know whether you should laugh, scoff, or clutch your pearls tightly.
“no. he’s definitely an asshole,” you clock immediately, shaking your head. “if I tell you guys I’m bored, at least give me someone nice.”
“he’s nice!”
“I mean, someone who isn’t the definition of ‘lights on, nobody’s home’, maybe?”
your friends look at each other like they’d expected the less-than-positive reaction, but they keep pushing anyways. “just try talking to him. if you’re bored, gojo’s the person to go to. Look at his profile: he’s rich as fuck. fine as fuck. good in pictures. he passes his classes–”
you groan. “yes, because that makes him the epitome of academic excellence–”
“–just fucking text him already!”
against your better judgment, you click on that well-curated profile, and you text.
and he texts back – quickly, you might add, for someone that chronically looks like he ghosts people simply because he doesn’t have time for all of them.
it's not just that. the thing is, you and satoru keep texting – for weeks on end.
it’s not even you holding the conversations together, but him. satoru does the most; he sends you pictures of him with his brothers, him in his car, him walking to classes you didn’t think he attended.
you wanted to stop replying. you want to doubt him, call him a slut, find him annoying. but he’s really not.
you: gojo it’s getting late yk
gojo: but i wanna keep talking to you :((
you almost scoff.
you: how many girls did u JUST text that to be honest
it’s mostly a joke, partially your own morbid curiosity kicking into action. it’s late on a friday night, you’re trying to find any reason not to be intentionally texting someone who probably doesn’t give half of a shit about you, and amidst the darkness of your own bedroom, you’re fucking entertaining this. satoru’s probably off convincing some other girl she’s the only one, calling her up, coercing her into letting him come over at this hour–
gojo: [1 attachment]
it’s just you beautiful
he sends a screenshot of his recent fucking DMs.
and he’s not lying – it’s just you (pinned?), a couple of his frat brothers’ dump accounts, absolutely nothing incriminating that could justify your premature judgments about satoru.
suddenly, you’re in it now; your lip is caught between your teeth, trying to process this revelation, and he’s still fucking typing. like he doesn’t care if it looks desperate. maybe he just thinks he’s incapable of looking desperate?
gojo: soo will you keep talking to me now
i miss you its been 30 secs
you: ur so stupid
fine
okay. maybe satoru isn’t anything like his profile at all.
one day, he finally asks you to come over. it’s not even in a weird, frat fuck, booty call way either; you get home from a pretty late exam, and you somehow get into texting satoru about how you’re pissed, you think you flunked, and you hadn’t eaten anything in hours.
before you can even think about setting foot in your building elevator, he’s sending you a picture of a shit ton of sushi (he remembered you saying you liked it?), luring you into his place like a mouse trap, and threatening to make you feel better with free food and bad movies.
it’s irritating how saying no didn’t even cross your mind for a second.
even if there was a 70% chance satoru only wanted to fuck, you kind of didn’t even mind that.
and you learn that satoru is 100%, most definitely not an asshole.
he doesn’t even actually look that much like what you’d see on his profile – other than being absolutely delicious-looking, because of course that doesn’t change.
he’s tall, but half of all the bicep and muscle he loves to show off on his story highlights is hidden behind a faded digimon hoodie. satoru’s got a pair of black, thick-framed glasses perched on top of his head, pushing his snow-white bangs back, leaving a few strands to rest over his forehead.
he even smiles sweet, out of the corners of his lips, all “let’s stay in my room” and “you got any movies you like? I have all of them!”, drawing you in without even knowing it.
your heart is in your throat when he leads you to his bedroom, where he’s laid sushi and snacks out as if eating was the first thing on your mind.
you have two thoughts: first, that he’s nothing like the fuckboy he seems he is on his instagram, and second, coming over to his house, just him and you, may be the best idea you’ve ever had in your life.
so you think it takes way too long, because satoru’s way too nice.
in fact, it takes you shuffling close into his side on the bed and tugging at his hoodie string with your fingertip midway through detective pikachu for him to even notice you wanted something.
“hm?” satoru hums, his arm absentmindedly wrapping over your shoulders in a motion that makes your skin warm. “yeah? is it too cold, or–”
oh my god. you bite the inside of your cheek. “maybe you wanna keep me warm?”
“oh, for sure, i’ll go get another blanket–”
“gojo.”
and satoru dares move to get up. “i’ll be quick, don’t worry–”
“satoru.” and you’re tugging him back down, giving him half-lidded eyes, gazing beneath your eyelashes like he’s one more word away from being eaten alive.
and finally, finally, you see his eyebrows raise like something’s clicking into place, and there’s a faint grin starting to tug at the corners of his lips. maybe he is kind of an asshole – but you barely get to berate him before he’s clicking his tongue and tugging you into his lap.
⭑.ᐟ
“fuck, beautiful–”
you don’t even realize just how little satoru matches his instagram profile until he’s the one beneath you, hands roaming your waist, trailing up to pinch desperately at your hardened nipples, all while you press your hands to his bare chest and ride his huge cock.
it’s hard to remember how you ended up here, his back against his own mattress, glasses hitting his own headboard, with your legs hooked over each side of his hips, watching the frat boy’s face contort in absolute pleasure.
all you know is that every sound that leaves his lips, every flutter of his lashes over those blue fucking eyes – heat pools between your legs. it doesn’t help that satoru’s so big, each drop back down on his dick making you see stars behind your eyelids.
“s–shit,” you gasp out wantonly, a loud squelch resounding between you as your pussy clenched around him. he’s just so deep, stretching out your needy cunt so perfectly with each roll of your hips. “so fuck– fucking big, satoru–”
he hisses. “baby, you’re – oh my god – you’re killing me here. c’mon, let me take care of you–”
it’s cute how easy it is to get him, of all people, to shut the fuck up.
all it takes is a shaky scoff from your parted lips, as you lift your hips all the way up, sliding your wet entrance over his tip for a second, just to relish in the way the white-haired man below you practically whines, aching for the warmth of your pussy around him. and then you drop down fully, letting out a broken little cry as his cock splits you open again, the stretch achingly delicious.
“haah–” satoru sounds so pathetic like this, fingertips clutching at the skin of your waist tight like he needed to bounce you on his dick until you were sobbing in his hold. “come on, please, just– just let me fuck you properly, pretty.”
“mmh,” you breathe out airily as you grind down onto his cock, eyes rolling back. “but ‘s so good.”
“could make it even b–better,” satoru groans. “shit. shit, do that again,”
you almost grin, albeit cockdrunk and absolutely dripping on him, at the little whimper that escapes his lips when your fingernails claw into his chest, timed perfectly with a greedy little roll of your hips, shifting him deeper into the warmth of your cunt.
you lean forward, tits pressing against his skin as you press your lips to his. and satoru takes this opportunity as his only avenue of control — his tongue breaches your mouth, a dazed little whine escaping your lips in response, shoving the muscle as far down your mouth as it would go. as if taunting you.
but he’s fucking gone, at the end of the day, and all it takes to have his mouth dropping open is for you to slam that ass back down like your life depended on it.
“don’t be a — ah! — an asshole, satoru,” you murmur into his skin, devastating, manicured fingertips prying his hand off your waist. “be good.”
“f—fuck,” he sputters out amidst the wet plap! plap! plap! of your ass against his pelvis. “fuck, ‘re the asshole here, pretty—”
your teeth sink into his plush bottom lip, and the low, broken sound that escapes his mouth is almost enough to have you creaming around his dick right then and there. “you’re so — ngh — ungrateful. ‘m literally bouncing on your dick—”
“haah—” both of your words are messy, making it out through strings of saliva against each other’s lips, resounding across the space of satoru’s bedroom. “baby…”
“haven’t even said please.” you mumble, and the white-haired man keens at how easily you can pretend to be so innocent, voice soft and wrecked and sweet like you don’t even realize what you’re doing. “just say please for me, satoru.”
you swear you see something hot flash in those blue eyes.
he doesn’t say anything.
“satoru,” and there’s no way he can say no to that voice. not like that. not when your voice is so candied, so sweet, so intentional in trying to get him to beg to fuck you. you press a soft kiss to the corner of his lips, and he hisses like you’ve just bitten bruises into his shoulder. “play nice for me, okay?”
“shit, baby…”
“pleaaase. say it.”
he tries rolling his hips into you, chasing the sweet warmth of the pussy you’re denying to let him fuck. all for not much, considering you slam his hips back down and leave him whimpering beneath your touch. so adorable. so desperate, it was almost comical, considering how satoru looked, how he presented himself.
so much for the fuckboy with an allegedly long list of girls in his DMs.
because—
“please!” satoru whines out, arms flexing by your thighs, a large hand meeting your waist, fingertips gripping loosely. “fuck, please, please let me fuck you properly, you’re so tight, so good–”
he’s babbling. about your pussy. satoru’s punctuating each little plea with a pathetic gasp ripped from his throat.
the man behind the curated ig that featured countless hookups, countless parties, and he’s utterly pussydrunk as you ride him to insanity.
“yeah?” you whisper against his mouth.
“haah— yeah, fuck, yes. been thinking about it — shit! — ever since you texted me.” satoru gasps.
you find it in yourself amidst the haziness to glance down at his face, the way his lips are slicked with your drool, the way his eyes are half-lidded behind white eyelashes, so utterly destroyed. the absolute picture of intoxication, all by the hand of your cunt lewdly squelching around his length.
he’s not what he seems at all.
because the white-haired man would have never looked like he begged this pretty beneath someone like you.
and you’re just as far gone, because you kiss him hard after the admission, legs shaking as you slam your hips up and down like you wanted his tip bruising hearts into your cervix. it doesn’t take much — you’re biting at those plush lips, letting his tongue saunter down your throat, and he’s whining, stuttering into your lips as his dick twitches inside of you, pumping you full of his cum.
it’s filthy, between the gasps from his throat, warm liquid seeping out of your hole and coating your pussy lips, dripping down your asscheeks, staining his sheets. you’re not exactly any better, whimpering at the sticky feeling of his cum deep inside of you, your own wetness soaking his entire cock in a pretty sheen.
satoru’s spent for a moment, and so are you — heavy breaths are exchanged between kiss-bitten lips, his hands gripping your waist tight like you’re his only lifeline. like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t bruise your skin.
the afterglow lasts about five seconds longer. because you realize just how fucked you are when you feel the frat boy grin against the corners of your lips, long fingers moving down, down to grasp your plush thighs.
“satoru,” you mumble, somewhere between a warning and a request.
“shh,” his voice is wrecked. “said please for you, baby. promised i’d get to fuck you properly.”
“satoru—”
he presses down on the bulge where his cock is buried deep inside you, earning a soft little moan from your mouth.
and that voice makes you shudder. “you be good for me now.”
⭑.ᐟ
frat!gojo's profile is a heavily curated one.
he’s got it down to a science.
so no one realizes anything is out of place — even when he posts a carefully-shot picture of you, passed out on his bare chest, hair splayed out to obscure your face. it’s provocative enough for everyone to know exactly what he did, but barely enough for anyone to question its place in the life he showed off online.
barely enough for anyone except you, who sees that story, dressed in an oversized t-shirt, while satoru’s waking you up with gentle pecks over your face.
yeah. he’s not what anyone thinks.
@ ttakdoll, 2026
kind of just wanted this one out of my hair,, i'll do smth better soon!
"love, no... don't go," nanami rasped, voice low still laced with sleep. his breath tickled the back of your neck as he spoke. the hold of his hand around your waist was somehow tighter, even after when you thought you couldn't possibly get any closer than this; your back on his chest without any space in between.
"let me gooo, i want to make my coffee," you whined softly, the tone made it apparent that you couldn't hold a smile at the sight of your usual collected man being so clingy. provoking him further, you once more tried to release the grasp of his hand on your stomach. the man responded with a disapproving grunt, the vibration from his lips against your skin made you shiver.
"stay, please. i'll make it for you later," he pleaded, trailing lazy kisses along your shoulder blade in hope to get you stay in bed, going as far as bringing his leg over both of yours, practically keeping you in his embrace. you chuckled.
"but i want it now," you replied, yet despite those words you couldn't help but put your hand on his cheek, seeing how the blond nuzzled closer to it, chasing the contact like a cat basking under the attention.
"not yet," he murmured, doubling down by gently turning you over, bringing you closer as you rested your head on his chest. you caved under his relentless touch, both his arms folded snugly behind your back. nanami wore a satisfied smile, like he just achieved something great. "i need another hour of this. of you."
"didn't know i'll be held hostage in some mornings when i went into this marriage," you teased, the comfort of his warm hug made you abandon the scheme you never planned to follow through. your fingers made their way to draw random patterns on the navy shirt he was wearing.
he caught your digits, planting a soft kiss at the back of your hand, "and you promised to accept me as i am in your vow, so i'm afraid you'll have to put up with this for the rest of your life."
The prettiest cock you’ve ever seen. Pale, thick, curves up toward his stomach like it’s pointing at god. Veins prominent but elegant. He’s uncut but pulls back clean, and the head gets so red when he’s close.
Length-wise? Above average. Girth-wise? Problematic. He knows it. He watches your face when he pushes in, chasing the moment your eyes roll back.
Fucks like he has something to prove. Uses his hips. Uses gravity. Infinite Void means he can suspend you mid-air and ruin you at leisure.
Likes to keep the blindfold on so you can’t see where the pleasure’s coming from. Likes when you claw at it, desperate to see him.
Talks constantly. Filthy, arrogant, "you’re taking me so well, look at you, stuffed full." Edges you for literal hours because time stops when he’s inside you.
Comes with his teeth in your shoulder and his hand around your throat, and then stays hard because he’s the strongest for a reason.
Kento Nanami
Heavy. That’s the first word. Thick, blunt, cut with a ridge that catches on your rim every time he pulls back. Shorter than Gojo but wider. You feel him for days.
Precise. Knows angles. Knows exactly how to roll his hips to hit your cervix with a rhythm that’s almost cruel in its efficiency.
Keeps the suit on. Unbuttons just enough to free himself, keeps the glasses on so you can see your reflection in them while he fucks you over his desk.
"7:3 ratio," he whispers, hand over your mouth. "That’s the probability you’ll scream if I thrust here—" and then he does.
Control freak. Won’t come until you’ve gone twice, minimum. When he finally loses it, it’s with his face buried in your neck and his hands bruising your hips, groaning like he’s disappointed in himself for being so messy.
Aftercare is clinical and thorough. Bath drawn. Tea made. But his fingers stay inside you while you drink it, keeping his cum where it belongs.
Toji Fushiguro
Animalistic. No technique, just force. His cock is massive—thick, veined, heavy enough to slap against his stomach and leave a wet spot. Straight, no curve, just a battering ram.
No prep. No patience. He lifts you, pins you, splits you open on his length and grunts when you cry out. Likes the resistance. Likes the fight.
Fucks like he’s trying to break something. Uses his whole body—sweat-slick, scarred, muscles rolling. Bounces you on his lap like you weigh nothing.
Loves hearing you choke. Loves when you scratch him, bite him, leave marks he can feel later. "Again," he growls, already hard after coming once. "Wanna feel you break around me."
Stays hard. Always stays hard. Round two starts before round one ends, cum used as lube for the next round until you’re delirious, limp, leaking him from every hole.
Leaves you covered in bruises shaped like his fingers and walks away smirking, but he always comes back to carry you to bed when you can’t walk.
Yuji Itadori
Perfect. Honestly unfair. Cut, thick, flushed dark, curves slightly left and hits your anterior wall like it was designed by a deity who wanted women to suffer.
Sensitive as hell. Whines when you touch him. Comes fast the first time, apologetic and red-faced, but then—then—the stamina kicks in.
Enthusiastic. Wants to know what you like. "Here? Like this? Can you take more?" Fucks with his whole heart, trembling and sweating and telling you you’re beautiful while he’s ruining you.
Sometimes Sukuna bleeds through. When it happens, the cock gets thicker, the thrusts get cruel, and the voice drops to something ancient. "Taking what’s mine," Sukuna growls, gripping your jaw. "Look at you, stuffed full of cursed energy and cock."
Yuji always comes back after, horrified and turned on in equal measure, gentle hands checking you over before he gets hard again and forgets to be careful.
Likes it best when you ride him so he can see your face, likes to thumb your clit until you’re shaking, likes to come inside you and watch it drip out with fascination.
Megumi Fushiguro
Long. Slim but long. Curved in a way that finds spots you didn’t know existed, presses against them until you’re seeing stars.
Quiet. So fucking quiet. You think he’s not into it until you feel him—hard as steel, leaking precum, thrusting with a desperation that belies his cold face.
Likes the dark. Likes shadows. His technique curls around your ankles while he fucks you from behind, holding you in place like he’s afraid you’ll run.
Possessive in silence. Bites your shoulder to muffle his groans. Grips your hair hard enough to tear. Whispers "mine" like he’s casting a curse.
Comes with a shuddering exhale, face buried in your neck, cock pulsing deep. Stays inside you until he’s soft, thumb tracing your hip bones like he’s memorizing you.
After, he’s distant, but his shadows follow you home. Marking you. Keeping you.
Suguru Geto
Religious experience. Thick, elegant, cut with a flared head that catches on your rim and makes you sob. He’s patient with it. Cruelly patient.
Likes you on your back, legs spread, while he watches. "Look at you," he murmurs, sliding in inch by inch. "So wet for a monster. Is this your salvation?"
Moves like water. Fluid, endless, grinding against your clit with every thrust. Can go for hours without breaking a sweat, smiling while you beg.
Likes to edge you with his cock barely inside, just the head stretching you open, until you’re crying, clawing at him, "please, Suguru, please—"
Comes with his eyes open, staring into yours like he’s stealing your soul. Spills hot and deep, then stays there, thumb circling your oversensitive clit until you’re coming around him again, milking him dry.
Whispers sutras against your skin while you tremble. Marks you as his last good thing. Fucks you like he’s taking communion.
perverted boyfriend! megumi fushiguro who doesn't even realize how obsessed he is with having his his hands on you all the time 𖹭.ᐟ
you really can't escape your boyfriend's needs.
megumi needs to be touching you at least somewhere on your body otherwise he would start grumbling and grunting over the simplest things.
it doesn't matter where, as long as he's got a hold of you. he's just too clingy.. but can you blame him? you're just too gorgeous to leave alone! he treats you like you're some kind of stress ball that he'll get relief out of if he has hands on it. (of course, with love)
and at first, he didn't even realize it was that serious.
your thighs are one victim — he's tracing small doodles on your skin absent-mindedly, occasionally squeezing them too hard you whimper from the sudden pain.
your hands aren't left alone either.. don't worry, they're already getting massaged while you lay back and watch a movie! if you ask him to put nail polish, megumi gladly will but do expect a few complaints. call him the best nail tech you've got since it's free.
it's clear your boyfriend obviously loves having a hand on you at all times. though, he says his ‘mini’ fixation isn't that severe. megumi thinks he probably just needs time for himself and that's why he's been so persistent on physical touch.
but up until the time you were out on a girls' day and you weren't there for him to grope hold lovingly — he realized his obsession was far worse than he'd judged. best believe he used anything near him in the room to play with. sadly, the pillow saw things the following nights you weren't home.
when you finally came back after a torturous 3 days, your boyfriend pounced on you like a dog greeting its owner. megumi immediately went straight for the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent like a madman and mumbling something incoherent about ‘how good you smelled.’
you were tired, sleepy, exhausted — a mix of all three — hauling your suitcase in and stumbling through the front door. buttttt, it seemed that megumi's sex drive was through the roof after being deprived of his girlfriend's contact.
and his hands... they were already trailing lower and lower to where megumi especially loved touching you. his fingers toyed with the zipper for a bit, then slowly pulled it down until it screached a familiar metal sound. megumi took the initiative to pop your jeans' button open — revealing your lace panties.
ones that usually, megumi would love to see. but with how needy he was to be able to feel you in the moment — he wanted nothing more to do with it than to rip it apart because it blocked his way of having you.
and really, you could say no, but where's the fun in that?
-
“megs— ngh.. too much, please, fuck!” you cried when your big boyfriend pushed another inch inside you, nails digging into his back with each length you take. he wasn't even halfway in yet!
“shit, you're too tight.. i'll take care of you, baby. just be quiet.” megumi groaned, and you felt his cock kiss your walls due to the vibration of his low moan — causing your gummy walls to spasm. he pressed a soft kiss under your eye where tears started falling, tasting the salty beads pooling on his lips.
your pussy sucked him in so greedily and so fucking good megumi thought he'd pass out with your hole tightening around his cock. he wasn't even planning to fuck you — you just wanted a little cockwarming until you fell asleep!
but with how much megumi and his dick missed being inside you after that cursed girls' trip you went on — he might just lose the plan and end up going for a quick fuck to solve his desire. it was taking everything in megumi to stop himself from pinning you down and giving you the best sex you've had in a while.
megumi's hands fly to your waist, the warmth of his hands transferring the heat to your skin, making you jolt. and in just a second without you realizing — he flips you over on your back, and he thrusts in, deep. plus, megumi acts like an animal in heat when he doesn't get his way with you easily...
so how could you say no to your needy boyfriend?
a/n: i'm so sorry this is short! ive gotten so busy with uni lately, and it's beating my ass rn 🥹 im in a few clubs as well, and im a journalist... unfortunately, that's where my creativity for writing went—so this is a short one 😭 im so sorry i didn't get to post for a month!! ill try my best, and i promise im working on a yuji ff 🥹🥹🫶
if not done already could u do megumi x fem reader and megumi fingers reader until she cries? and megumi lowk gets off on her crying.. (if ur ok w writing that) anyway i hope u like my request!
hope u have a good night / day ^_^
🐞 anon
"come on, just one more? you can do it." megumi begs you, his fingers are still buried in your soaked cunt. you have orgasmed twice already, completely overstimulated, but he's giving you puppy eyes.
"i'll be gentle. one more, yeah?"
you sigh and nod. he kisses your tummy softly and starts to work his fingers inside you again. its too sensitive, the way his fingers caress your sweet spot and the way he breathes on your clit as he watches his fingers from up close.
"so wet, pretty." he whispers against the top of your mound. his tongue meets your clit in one kitten lick before pulling away again. you twitch against him, whining at the feeling.
everything seems to be so overstimulating. you don't know how or when, but tears start to fall from your eyes. the pressure from his fingers feels so filling, so deliciously good, and you can't help but shed some tears.
megumi glances at you out of habit, but when he sees the tears, he nearly freezes. the only part of him that stays moving are his fingers. he stares at the tears, at the pleasure on your face. he was already hard to begin with, but seeing you in tears causes another wave of desire over him.
he watches your face, every twitch and every tear. his finger rub faster on your sweet spot, coaxing you into a sweet thick orgasm.
"that's it, pretty. cum for me. cry for me." he mumbles, watching you arch your back and let out a cry filled whine. he almost cums in his pants with you from the way your tears fall on the sheets under you.
he slides his fingers out of you and just stares. your chest is heaving, exhuastion visible, but you look beautiful.
"one more, i promise. i just need to see you cry again." he whispers on your cheek. the saltiness of your tears triggers something in his brain. he quickly sheds his pants, needing to be buried inside you while you cry for him again.
𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ 18+ mdni.. bestfriend's brother!suguru.. pussy inspection?.. oral. f rec.. recording.. FYI severely not edited..
“And I bet you, you won’t have a royal flush by the end of this game,” you challenged Suguru Geto. Your best friend’s older brother by 6 years. The same person you grew up hanging around. And the same person you were currently playing cards with because your fake ass friend went out to run a quick errand.
You weren’t mad, just… flustered? Being left alone with her older brother, who always watches you like a predator waiting any second to pounce on their prey.
He did offer to buy what she needed, but she said no and left.
It’s not like you were scared of him (you were), you grew up around him. It’s just that things are different now. He’s older and bigger, and hotter. And has abs now. Like what?
“And if I end up with that by the end of the game, then?” he said, voice low, in a soothing way.
“Then… You um.. You can get whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want?” a pause, “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
For some reason, you were starting to feel hot under his piercing gaze. Those heavy eyes of his that undressed you before actions ever could.
“What will you give me?”
“Whatever you want, Suguru,” you groaned, repeating yourself, making him grin. “No take-backs, ok?”
“Why… what do you want?” There was a small chance you might be regretting your words now. What if he makes you do something embarrassing or eat an insect or– or–
“You’ll see,” was all he said before grabbing the first card from the deck, placing it face up on the glass circle table that was centered in front of the dark leather sofa you and he were sharing, sitting on opposite ends.
The game was coming closer to an end, and victory seemed far from reality for you. But Suguru ending with a royal flush was so fucking unlikely that you were relaxed. Even if you lost, Suguru technically wouldn’t win.
Yeah. Or so you thought. Even with the impossible chances, once the game finished, and you accepted your loss, Suguru turned his hand in your direction, being met with what you could only describe as bullshit.
There was no fucking way this man pulled it off. Whether he cheated or didn’t, the chances of getting a Royal Flush are incredibly low. One in a Million type beat. So how?
While you were having an existential crisis, pacing around the living room, Suguru came up behind you, wrapping those large, veiny arms around your midsection, making you jump.
“So about that deal.”
“...what do you want.. And– before you say anything, I’m not eating inse–”
“Let me play with your pussy.”
What?
—
Somehow, your friend was still missing, and some-fucking-how in that time frame of her not being a part of her own household, you have somehow managed to fuck yourself up both physically and mentally and have gotten in bed with your friend’s older brother—in his bed—while he inspects your pussy like it’s a cold case.
“You keep twitching, are you horny?” Geto teases, his warm breath fanning over your exposed cunt.
“N-no, dickhead, I’m just— ohh– fuck!” You choke on your words—saliva—leaving the sentence on a cliffhanger. Suguru’s rough fingers, the backside, ghost over your swollen clit before leaving a harsh flick that has you moaning in pleasure.
“Such a dirty liar and masochist,” The man coos, 2 fingers circling your entrance, all that unused slick sticking to his fingers, trailing them up to your poor abused clit, massaging the little bud between the 2 damp pads, rolling it between them.
You bite your lower lip, shutting your eyes tight enough to hopefully wake up from whatever dream this is or fall asleep. But neither happened. Your body is too aware to fall asleep and too awake to be dreaming.
Biting back any noises that threaten to slip out while he teases you like an untouched instrument.
“Sugu–”
“I’m going to record, ok?”
“What!?”
“Relax, I won’t show anyone,” he says calmly, pulling his phone out of the pocket of his grey sweats. You want to fight him, but do you really? As much as you want to run and kick him in the face, he can clearly see you’re enjoying this far more than him.
“Such a pretty pussy,” he grins, your eyes squinting from the bright flash of his phone. Is this fucker really filming with flash on?
Your body has a physical reaction to the thought of him just having a recording of your bare body at his disposal, anytime he needs.
His fingers stretch and play with your cunt, pulling it in all sorts of directions, getting every part of you on camera. He even films your insides as he slowly pushes the 2 fingers he’s been using on you inside. Watching how they fill your needy little hole. Your back arches, fingers tangled in the sheets, pulling harder. Eyes wandering over his perfect face, stray hairs falling over his face, while the rest is messily tied.
“She likes it,” he says, grinning at your reaction to his words. Face twisting in pleasure.
“Record,” he demands, abruptly handing you the phone, not giving any sort of warning before diving in between your parted thighs.
His soft lips come into contact with your soaking wet cunt. Tracing along your clit and down to your hole. Slipping his tongue inside, watching as your eyes roll to the back of your head, one of your hands unsteadily holding the camera, having it angled down to his hair while he devours you like a starved man.
“You have the softest and sweetest fucking pussy. You taste like heaven, doll,” the man says with a mouthful, the vibrations reaching your core. His hands gripping and massaging your thighs, matching the rhythm of his tongue that moved like it knew its way around your body.
He licks every corner and bump that sends you higher than the 7 skies. Touching each part that elicits the sluttiest noises out of your mouth and the tightest spasms from your muscles.
His fingers dug into the squishy flesh of your thighs, nose bumping against your clit, leaving your thighs trembling.
“So fucking—mm, good,” he groaned, making you scream his name, a way of informing him that you’re close, already. Might be one of your quickest orgasms.
“Come on, pretty girl, I’m nowhere near done playing with you,” he chuckles at your needy whine at his words, “ok, ok, you can cum, go on.”
Your back arches off the bed, phone slipping from your loose grip, landing somewhere in the sheets.
He keeps sucking and licking and drinking you in like sin. Enjoying every untouched part of you.
Your body shakes as release crashed over you in waves. Suguru slows his roll. Sucking more sensually, flicking your clit with his tongue only when needed. Once he’s pleased with your orgasm and your sudden body jolts, he pulls back.
The dim glow in the room illuminated his slick-covered lips and chin, and that filthy smirk plastered across his face.
“Let’s get you cleaned up before my sister beats both our asses,” he grins. Helping you up.
“I’m never playing cards with you again.”
“By the way, I cheated.”
“You son of a–”
A/N: im back from my mini something hiatus, also no part 2, leave me alone and i'm working on my longer fics, i swear, no more tiny one shots, i've js been rllyyyyy sick
ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.
okay i THINK i sent this to someone as an ask but i don't remember so i am going to post it again!! let me tell u this idea i have of going to the club with bestie!roomie!toji
you're all comfy in his lap, back against his broad chest, in a private booth (thank you shiu) while the others in the group are busy drinking or on the dance floor. but you are more than content with just staying with toji. the way his hand strokes up and down your back, occasionally, going over your hip and playfully squeezing your ass as he feigns innocence !!
trying to get him back by teasing him, pouting as you tell him that you want his opinion on this new outfit you bought bc you don't know if the color fits you. and he does NOT expect to see you open a picture of you posing in the mirror in cute pink lingerie that hugs you in all the right places. “i like this one, the pink set was so pretty, but i dunno if i like it on me,” you hum.
toji is losing his fucking MIND right now, his arms gripping you tighter as he lets out a heavy sigh at the view. he doesn't even get a chance to say anything before you're swiping to the left and you grow a little shy, giving a fake little 'woops'
instead of a picture, it’s a fucking video. a video of you fucking yourself with a toy playing on the screen angled so only he could see!! the volume is low so only you both can hear it and toji can HEAR the wet gushing of your pussy, creaming around the toy as you moaned and begged oh so cutely. “aww...toji, I couldn’t even get the toy all the way in,” you whine. “only got it halfway…”
its taking everything in him not to just fuck you right now, to show you he'd make sure you'd be able to get cock in you all the way. "kook at my best girl, so fuckin' desperate and needy," he hums, resting his chin on your shoulder as he watches the video. "tsk, tsk, tsk...poor think, y'should be filled up properly, hm? stretched on my cock til you're taking all of it...i'd make sure ya cream for real, baby doll."
“i wanted t’ send this to you, wanted you t’ see it and tell you t’ come help me get it in me,” you pouted, leaning into him. "plus, when it feels too good i can't help but run away from it, and it makes it sooo hard t' cum, tojiiiii....you wouldn' let me run from it, right, big guy?"
the way you look at him over your shoulder with those pretty eyes that just scream mischief..."mmn, you should've. i would've come over right away. make sure we get some cock into ya like y'need it. stretch you out niiiiice and good, get m'cock into that tight, pretty pussy of yours...like the good best friend i am," he purrs, pressing a kiss to your cheek.
hhnngg i need him to be my best friend + roommate so bad
PU$$Y GOT MORE M⛧RDERS THAN SHIBUYA.ᐟ
𝐌⛧𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑#𝟕 — 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐚, 𝐇𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢
⛧ 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡: nov 30th, 10:37pm
⛧ 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡: garters + assistant manager! reader + pleasure dom! higuruma+ cunnalingus + fingering + office sex + overworked!higuruma + creampie + shower sex + squirting + use of squirt as coffee creamer + public sex + standing sex + fluff + higuruma courts you like an old man jdfbhsdb + higuruma folds you like a pancake + reader is a bit delulu and spirals lol.
⛧ 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐬: 6390 (~4.5K of it is pure smut lol)
𝐚𝐧: sorry this took so long! i ended up changing the theme a bit on this one cause using the same got so boring to me after a while, ya know? i dont think ill do that again for a series if its not the same story. art creds: both @/reaperpie
𝐧𝐧𝐧 𝐦.𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
If this goes on any longer, you're going to have to apply for flood insurance.
For your panties.
And for what? Simply standing beside Higuruma?
Yup, that'll do it.
Mere proximity to the man who once had you bent over the very desk he's chained to now.
You busy yourself at the file cabinet, fighting to keep your breathing even. But it doesn't stop your eyes from drifting to him—his pen moving and brow furrowed while fully consumed in drafting a judgment entry.
He won. Well, the case got dismissed.
Same difference.
You're just relieved it's finally over.
It's been over a month since this case consumed him and consequently also over a month since you last had his fingers buried inside you.
Shit.
You can still feel the phantom strokes of them curling deep enough to rearrange your guts and dragging out moans you didn't know could be made in pleasure. "There. Right there, babydoll. Let it all go for me."
And you did—skirt bunched, stockings torn and your slick dripping down his hand onto cuffs he hadn't bothered to roll back—
"Grab me the folder with the October 3rd case files, please, dear."
Higuruma's request snaps you out of your daydreams—body jerking as heat burns your cheeks.
"O-Of course!"
You know exactly where to go, at least. Every misplaced document, every obscure reference—you've long since mapped the chaos of Higuruma Hiromi's filing system.
Locating the folder within seconds, the brief contact of his fingers grazing yours as you hand it over makes you clench.
"Thank you, doll."
Higuruma doesn't look up, his eyes are already scanning the document. Clearly your touch doesn't stir anything in him.
Right.
You get it. You do.
It's not cruelty—just a single-minded determination from a habitually overworked and underfucked attorney moonlighting as a sorcerer.
Higuruma is well practiced in putting his own needs to the side for others, his entire life has been dedicated to it—you can't bear to fault him for that.
So you retreat. Back to the sofa in the corner of his office, the sting tucked behind a tired smile. Higuruma isn't the only one who knows how to compartmentalize.
Still, the thought lingers—is there even a point in staying?
He doesn't need you. Not really.
Higuruma managed for years as a public defender before the Culling Games. He's more than capable of grabbing his own files.
Besides, it's not like the jujutsu higher-ups assigned you here for your legal expertise. The "Executive Legal Assistant" line is just civilian window dressing— a polite way of saying leash.
Your real title? Assistant Manager of Jujutsu Tech.
A handler for a newly ranked special-grade sorcerer too stubborn to give up his day job entirely.
Higuruma compromised just enough to move to private practice, but still takes most cases pro bono after a reduced retainer.
He knows exactly why you're here—and he's never once made you feel lesser for it.
Which makes the guilt so much worse. He's buried in this case: a scholarship kid bullied into a false confession, parents who scraped together everything for his retainer.
Meanwhile, you're sulking because he won't touch you.
God, his noble to a fault principles make you damn near feral though.
Pouting from your spot on the sofa, you steal another glance at Higuruma.
You decided long ago it's enormously unfair for a man to wear exhaustion as well as he does. The warm glow of the desk lamp traces his profile—his sharp nose, strong jaw, the thick column of his throat and the strain visibly knotted across his broad shoulders.
The same coiled tension he'd carried that night a month ago that obliterated all lines of professionalism.
It’d been straight off a mission. Higuruma dealt with dual first-grade curses, nasty work—and then went right back to his desk. But he was wound too tight and although determined to finish his work, could not keep his fingers from digging into the crook of his neck.
When you offered to help him, you were only being considerate.
A friendly massage. Honestly, that's all it was.
Higuruma even tried to refuse you but one firm press into his stiff muscles and he groaned. The sound was purely guttural, vibrating through your palms and straight to your cunt.
Immediately all protests silenced as his head drooped forward, breath going ragged. His grunts continued and by the time you fully worked out the second knot, you were dripping.
It took everything in you to steady your hands, to hide how much his pleasure was affecting you. But then you slipped—and a soft, needy sound fumbled out of you, impossible to swallow back. Your breath fanned warm across his neck, scattering goosebumps along his nape.
Everything after that blurred together.
His hands hauling you into his lap.
His mouth devouring yours.
The expensive oak desk slamming against the wall as he drove into you like a man possessed, your name caught between his teeth like a prayer.
You don't remember how it ended—only that eventually, Higuruma untangled himself from you and led you wordlessly to the private shower attached to his office.
One of the few perks of private practice he'd actually come to appreciate.
He washed you with reverence—slow, thorough, like you were something precious. And then he ruined that image entirely by dropping to his knees and lewdly slurping his cum out of your cunt like it was his last meal. Nose buried in your clit, tongue pushing deep, water pouring down his face. He was half-drowning—between the shower and your squirt—and couldn't have cared less.
Legs like goo, you still don't know how you remained standing through it all.
You were still catching your breath as you toweled off when he murmured something about feeding you, fingers tracing your hip.
Twenty minutes later: you were at an all-night izakaya, just the two of you.
Your first date, technically. Confirmed by the way he slid into the booth beside you instead of across—his hand finding your thigh like it belonged there. It never left. Only crept higher, fingertips ghosting over your clit through thin silk while you pretended to study the menu.
The owner lingered too long taking your order, teasing you for something as plain as eggs and furikake rice, his tone edging toward flirtation as he challenged if your date was too cheap to buy you a real meal. You stumbled over your defense of Higuruma as Higuruma's knuckle replaced his fingertips, grinding against your clit.
That's when you learned how possessive Higuruma Hiromi could be.
"That man is testing my patience," Higuruma murmured the second the owner turned away. His mouth barely moved against your ear, voice terrifyingly calm, knuckle still working slow circles through your folds. "Should I sit you right here in my lap? Let him watch you come undone, doll, hm?"
You were already plenty undone though—your slick leaking onto beat-up vinyl seat. “Don’t worry, I won’t. This noisy girl attracts too much unnecessary attention—” Higuruma leans forward to shield you from view as more patrons walk in “—we don’t need a public indecency charge, hm?”
He wasn't wrong. The slick click-click of your pussy squelches were already obscene—a few patrons' eyes flickered around, searching for the source—and it only got louder as he nudged past the lace, stroking you wider, fingertip dipping teasingly into your core.
“H-Hiro…”
With a sly quirk of his lip, he pulls back, reaching casually for his coffee before slipping the mug under the table.
“Alright, alright. At least allow me some of your cream for my coffee as a consolation, dear.”
He paid, of course. You tried to protest, but it's hard to argue when you can barely stand—legs still trembling from an hour of relentless teasing.
He'd ordered three cups of coffee total. Every single one required a fresh dollop of your cream.
By the time you reached his condo, you needed him desperately again. Engine off, keys still in the ignition—you climbed into the backseat and sank onto his cock. You rode him until dawn crept through the fogged glass and your legs gave out.
He invited you to stay but you were possibly in enough trouble already if your family noticed you hadn’t returned. Working late was understandable—but there’d be hell if you missed breakfast without prior notice.
That was a Saturday.
Come Monday, this case landed on his desk, and he hadn't touched you since.
Instead?
Fresh flowers rotating through the vase on your desk.
The occasional delivery of white strawberries.
Macarons from the French bakery Higuruma pretended to overbuy when you knew he only bought them for you.
The closest to real intimacy you got all month were stolen moments where he’d sweep your hand into his, lips brushing your knuckles when he was certain no one else could see.
Sure these breadcrumbs were enough to keep you hoping but not nearly enough to keep you sane.
Who the hell courts you like a Regency novel heroine—after you’ve already spent a night all over each other fucking like rabbits?!
You don't think even Elizabeth Bennet suffered this kind of agonizing tension—she certainly didn't have the memory of Mr. Darcy's tongue swirling in her cunt to keep her up at night.
But what could you do? You couldn't seem needy or immature—not to a man a decade your senior. Not if you wanted this to mean something.
You were doing fine. Keeping it together. Right up until last week.
Junior lawyers crowded the watercooler, loud and willfully oblivious to the fact that women also use the break room—braying about No Nut November like overgrown frat boys comparing notes. You kept your back to them, cursing the espresso machine to hurry the hell up.
Relief flooded you when Higuruma appeared in the doorway.
Finally, an escape.
Then he opened his mouth.
"Some of us don't find distractions quite so difficult to set aside when the work matters." His gaze swept over them. "I'd recommend you develop the same discipline, gentlemen."
Distractions.
You'd previously told yourself this case had forced you both into accidental celibacy. No Nut November participants by circumstance, not choice. But the way he'd said it—distractions—so cool, so clinical, like sexual urges were just clutter to tidy away.
You'd think a man who fucked you that desperately would be crawling back for more?!
But he hadn't.
And that distance made you wonder if you'd gotten it all wrong. Maybe the gifts weren't courtship—just consideration. The polite gestures of a man who'd used you and wanted to keep things friendly on the rare occasion he needed an indulgence.
Like a work wife with benefits.
The fact the office cleared out hours ago and he’s hardly looked at you for more than a few seconds convinces you of this more and more, the thoughts spiraling as—
"You know I hate to keep you late." The words yank you out of your head. Right. You're still here. He's still here. "If you need to leave, dove, I can manage."
Your stomach drops. Higuruma asked you to stay tonight, so you thought maybe—
"No, I'm fine. Really." Unconvincing, even to yourself.
"Mm." He nods—eyes already back on his files.
Dismissed in a syllable.
Trying to push aside the hurt, the files in your lap blur as you pretend to read them, legs crossing and uncrossing, the leather groaning beneath your restless shifting. Now on top of everything else, your feet are screaming—new stilettos, three inches higher than normal.
You'd dressed to kill all month hoping a part of him would be superficial enough notice.
Wincing, your arches are aching from your red-bottoms. You're starting to suspect it's less about the lacquer and more about the crime scene your heels will leave behind if your arches just so happen to split in two. Still, they make your legs look sinful—and you'll plead guilty to first-degree pick me-ism if it gets Higuruma to look up from his goddamn papers for more than a minute.
"Take them off.”
Flustered, your eyes snap up to see Higuruma appraising you over the document in his hands.
When did he start watching you again?
"Your shoes, dove."
Higuruma follows up when you don’t respond, faint amusement lingering on his words.
"It's fine, really—" You wave off his concern, gesturing vaguely at your feet. "They're still new. Haven't broken them in quite yet."
"You've been wincing for the last twenty minutes." Higuruma’s voice is firm but not unkind as he regards you. His eyes linger on your legs long enough for you to notice this time.
"Take them off."
"I don't want to be unprofessional—"
"It's nearly midnight." The corner of his mouth twitches a sly smile. "And…I think we're well past professional civilities, don't you?"
Are we?
You swallow the retort as Higuruma examines another folder on his desk. Part of you wants to be a big brat about it—to punish him for ignoring you. You want to crawl onto his desk force his eyes onto you.
But the thought alone makes you shy away. You're much too proud for that.
So you ease the shoe off slowly, quietly, propping your stockinged foot on the sofa's edge to reach the second strap. Your wool skirt rides up your thighs in the process—but you're almost certain he's not watching anyway.
Except you hear papers fluttering and when you glance up, Higuruma's pen is frozen mid-stroke.
His gaze isn't on your feet.
It's fixed on your thighs, more specifically, the black lace of your garters clipped to stockings that have your soft flesh swelling over them.
His throat bobs as he white-knuckles the pen in his grasp.
For a long moment, he doesn't move. Doesn't breathe. Just looks at you as his eyes trail lower and the proof of how needy you've been for him all night is evident in the way your panties clinging to every fold.
Higuruma resembles a man who's been presented a ten-course meal after a strict fast.
Yet his next words still surprise you.
"You've been punishing yourself."
"What?"
"For my attention. You've been wearing new heels, every night this week." Higuruma’s tone is stripped of its usual composure although he's still clinical in his assessment. "You usually wear the round-toed black pair. Two inches, cushioned sole. These—" His gaze flicks to the discarded shoes, then back to you. "Your legs don't need the extra height, doll. Never did."
Heat floods your cheeks. He'd noticed?!
This whole time, drowning in case files, barely sparing you a glance—
"The blouse is new too." Higuruma notes, almost to himself, like he’s reading off the facts in a case file. "Tuesday it was the silk one. Wednesday, the black skirt with the small slit at the back."
Your heart slams against your ribs as he continues to recall your outfits.
"I-I thought you weren't paying attention."
"I wasn't giving you any." Higuruma’s mouth twists—bitter and self-directed in his ire. "That's not the same thing."
"It's okay. You've been busy—"
"Don't."
The word is soft but final as he rises from his desk walking over to you on the sofa.
"Don't make excuses for me—or I'll hate myself even more than I already do..."
Higuruma drags a hand down his face as he deflates with a tired exhale. "Watching you walk in every morning looking like that. Knowing exactly what sounds you make when I—"
He stops. You watch him swallow it down—whatever he was about to say, whatever he was about to do. His eyes have gone nearly black, looking like he may pounce on you at any moment.
"I couldn't only give you ten minutes between depositions. Couldn't touch you the way you deserve and then casually ask you to hand me a file or drive me to the next mission like nothing happened."
Your head is spinning at the revelations, wanting to say something but you are at an utter loss.
"So I kept my distance." He confesses. "Thought if I could just finish this case—I could give you a night where I could take my time with you. Take you apart properly, then put you back together after."
Higuruma is standing over you now, his presence like a physical weight. "Like a fool, I was so consumed with self-martyrdom I never stopped to consider if I was forcing yours."
You move to stand, to reach for him—
“Stay.”
It's less command than it is a contrite supplication.
"Stay right there, doll," Higuruma repeats—and the crack in his voice betrays him—as does the tent in his slacks.
The sound he makes when he catches you staring is barely human—a low, rumbling growl. You watch his cock twitch harder against his slacks.
You search for his eyes, but his focus is locked on your tongue sweeping across your lips.
Higuruma loosens his tie, slowly as his eyes begin their descent—down your throat, your breasts, your stomach—until it lands between your thighs and stays there. Fixed on the wet patch darkening your lace.
He crouches before you, hands finding your calf. His thumb strokes the curve of the stocking covered muscle with reverence, he's memorizing the shape of you not only by sight but touch as well.
"Bring the other up." You've never heard him sound like this—barely holding on. "Y-Yes, just like that. Now lay back—hips forward."
Pulse hammering, you sink deeper into the cushions, propping your leg up as his hands find your hips, guiding them forward, bunching your skirt around your waist.
"Good girl."
Your pussy is fully on display now and Higuruma makes a wounded noise as his eyes rake over the panties that have given up pretending to hold in your swollen folds long ago.
"Christ."
The word punches out of him. His fingers skim the lace edge—barely grazing—and still come back glistening with your slick.
Higuruma swallows hard. "It's criminal the way my girl's been hiding all this under those prim little suits."
His girl.
Higuruma lifts one of your legs, extending it slowly until your stockinged foot rests flat against his chest. His heart pounds beneath your arch, the beat syncing with the pulsating ache of your clit.
His hands work down your leg, firm and thorough, pressing into sore muscles until pleasure bleeds through the ache. Your head tilts back as you stifle a moan and his grip tightens in response.
"I know I don't deserve it, dove, but at least allow me to hear you while I worship you, my dear."
Simultaneously, his thumbs dig into the ball of your foot, and the tension you've been carrying all night unspools in a single, embarrassingly loud whimper.
From the devious look on his face, it's exactly what he wanted.
Higuruma presses a kiss to your Achilles—another apology—and you shiver. He sets your foot down gently, repeats the ritual on the other side. Just as slow. Just as thorough.
A knowing smirk tugs at his lips as he guides your legs up, stockinged feet sliding over his shoulders until you're spread open before him. He leans forward, nuzzling into the fold of your knee—and the scrape of his stubble makes your hips jerk.
“You know, at times I swore I could smell how badly she missed me.” He murmurs into your stockings. “Right through your pretty little skirts."
Higuruma’s actions follow his words, tracing a slow path with his aquiline nose from your knee to your pussy. "Mmm. I was right. She's been weeping so sweetly through your panties like a needy little thing for weeks, hasn't she?"
Your whines answer for you.
"What about No Nut November?" you whisper, breathless, raising your hips to push his nose in deeper. "I wouldn't want to be a distraction..."
Higuruma inhales deeply, savoring your raw scent. "Never." He exhales breathlessly.
"Everything else has been a distraction from you." His voice drops to gravel, vibrating through you.
You haven’t even savored the admission properly before there's a sharp snap and his teeth bite through one of your garters, tugging the ruined elastic away with a growl before repeating the action.
"Please, Hiro—" You mewl, thighs trembling.
He looks up at you with those dark, knowing eyes. Exhausted and hungry in equal measure.
"This is part of my sentence, doll." His thumb strokes the crease of your thigh, maddeningly gentle. "Trust me—it's far more agonizing for me."
You doubt that.
But you don't dare contradict him—not when there's something sadistic lurking behind all that apology. Something that tells you a part of him would get off on deny you just a tiny bit longer.
His tongue drags flat over your panties, pressing wet fabric into your slit, sucking your slick through the lace like he's trying to wring every drop out.
"These are in my way." He doesn't bother with his teeth this time—just hooks his fingers in the lace and tears.
Riiiip.
You squeal as cool air hits your bare cunt for half a second before his mouth replaces it. The second his tongue splits your folds, every other thought dissolves.
Your head falls back against the cushions as his tongue drags through your folds with long, broad strokes. Like he's been dreaming about this exact taste for a month and finally, finally gets to indulge.
His lips seal over your clit and suck, hard enough that your hips buck off the sofa. His hands dig into the meat of your thighs, pinning you open, holding you still as they quake in his grasp.
"Told you to stay."
The command growled against your cunt, but your body isn’t listening, still squirming as he dips into your entrance, gathering your slick before dragging it back up to your clit—then he spits, letting your own arousal drip onto your swollen nub before his mouth descends again.
"H-Hiro!"
Higuruma doesn't answer.
He's much too occupied with his repentance. Tongue extended, his face is pulled back just enough so you can see the exact pattern being cruelly branded on your sensitive bud as he roughly flicks under your clitoral hood, pushing it back. It's methodical and devastatingly thorough—like he's building a case with his mouth and your orgasm is the verdict.
Though for a defense attorney, the way he's attacking your cunt feels suspiciously prosecutorial.
Your hips tilt up, desperate to ride his face, and he lets you—lips releasing your clit only to plunge his tongue straight into your core, rimming your entrance before fucking into you rapidly. Every thrust grinds his nose further into your clit. His hands find your ass, gripping soft flesh, spreading your cheeks as he lifts your hips to help you rock against his mouth.
This man would happily perish between your thighs.
You're certain of it now.
His own broken groans echo inside your cunt, high off the fact of simply giving you pleasure—and that's what sends you over. You cum hard, thighs clamping around his head, back arching off the sofa as the orgasm tears through you in waves, ecstasy coursing in your veins.
But he doesn't stop.
His tongue keeps working, lapping up your release, his face slick and shining with you. When you try to squirm away—oversensitive and trembling—his grip tightens on your thighs, dragging you back to his mouth.
"I'm not done with you yet, doll."
The words come out ragged, muffled against your puffy cunny as Higuruma's cheek rests against your inner thigh, lips swollen and spit-slick, still connected to your pussy by a thin string of your arousal. He's panting—actually panting—looking genuinely pained by the fact that he has to stop to breathe oxygen instead of burying himself deeper in your folds.
You don't think you could deny Higuruma anything like this.
"One more, Hiro." His breathing quickens at your permission. "T-Then fuck me. Please."
Higuruma doesn't bother with words. Just action—diving back into your depths like a man possessed.
One of his hands releases your thigh, finds your wrist and drags your fingers into his hair.
"Pull." The command is muffled but unmistakable.
You oblige—or rather, you're forced to when his teeth graze your clit and your nails dig into his scalp on instinct. Higuruma growls in pleasure, the sound rumbling through your core.
He has to be aching. Hard enough to hurt, trapped in those slacks. You can't see him from this angle, but you wouldn't be surprised if he's leaking through his slacks from the way he's moaning into your pussy, drunk on the taste of you. A pool of your creamy juices has already gathered on the leather beneath you, obscene and growing in size by the second.
Delirious words spill from his lips between licks—praise and filth whispered directly into your cunt like prayers.
"So sweet—"
A broad lick from entrance to clit.
"So pretty—"
His tongue fucks into you, curling.
"—my divine atonement—"
Your slick coats his chin, his cheeks, drips down his jaw, and he only gets hungrier. More desperate. More crazed. Every gush of arousal you give him is an aphrodisiac—he laps it up like a man dying of thirst, shows no signs of stopping, no signs this will be your last orgasm, only growing more feral as you unravel beneath him.
"P-Pleaseeeee ohh—!"
The second climax builds faster than the first—sharper, meaner, your whole body wound tight as a wire. His tongue relentlessly assaults your clit while two fingers sink into your cunt without warning, crooking against that spot inside you, and your vision whites out.
"That's my pretty girl."
Higuruma pulls back just enough to let you ride out the aftershocks, fingers still drawing merciless circles on your oversensitive clit.
Somewhere behind the roar of blood in your ears, you hear a belt click as fabric shifts. You force your eyes to focus—watching his slacks fall as he stands, his cock springing free—flushed and heavy, bobbing as his cockhead smeared with pre drips down the length of him.
Fuck. Somehow Higuruma looks even bigger than you remember, thick enough to make your whole body clench with want and fear in equal measure.
He kneels, dragging your hips to the edge. His hand wraps around himself, stroking, and you hold your breath—finally, finally—
But he just slaps his cock against your clit. Tap, tap, tap. Precum and spit and slick mixing obscenely
You squirm, clearly overstimmed which draws a smug chuckle from him.
"Is it terrible that I enjoy teasing you?"
"Hiro—" You whine, hips jerking toward him. You pout up at him sweetly—and watch his cock twitch in response. His resolve visibly cracking.
"Yes, doll. Say it again." Higuruma's cock notches at your entrance, pressing but not pushing. "Scream it this time, for me yes?"
You expect more teasing, more torture.
Instead, he snaps his hips forward in one brutal thrust—splitting you open until he's buried to the hilt.
You scream his name so loud you don't even hear it leave your throat.
You might have cum again—you only know because of the string of expletives spilling from Higuruma's mouth, his composure finally shattered.
"F-Fuck, dove—" He's panting, forehead pressed to yours. "She's choking me. You need to relax." A strained laugh escapes him. "She feels like a noose—and I'd prefer to avoid capital punishment tonight, if it's all the same to you."
You can't answer, tears streaming as you gasp from him filling you so completely. Higuruma leans down and licks them up too, tongue tracing the salt tracks on your skin. You're starting to think he's genuinely obsessed with your bodily fluids.
Higuruma pecks your lips gently, letting you adjust.
"Have you not been touching yourself?" His voice is softer now, curiously teasing as he admires the state simply sticking his cock in has reduced you to. "Have you been waiting for me all this time?"
"I w-wasn't g-gonna" You swallow, cunt fluttering around him. "B-But it wasn't enough. It wasn't y-you."
"'Wasn't gonna', huh?" He mocks you, his rich baritone tickling your senses as his thumb returns to your clit to flick over her languidly.
"Naughty girl." He kisses the corner of your mouth. "But I suppose I'll argue a plea deal in your defense this once. It was my fault after all for neglecting you."
Your thighs burn from being spread around his broad hips, the sheer weight of him pressing you into the sofa, his knees braced on the floor. When you finally loosen around him—walls relaxing, body surrendering to him—he slips his tongue into your mouth as his hips begin to move.
Small thrusts at first. Micro-movements. Like he can't bear to have even an inch of himself outside the warm embrace of your slick walls.
Then his hand presses down on your lower belly, and your eyelashes flutter as your eyes roll back.
"There it is." He groans, grinding deeper. "Can you feel how she makes room for me?"
Higuruma doesn't give you the chance to answer before he picks up the pace, hand staying pressed to your stomach, savoring every twitch of your muscles. The exact movement of your guts shifting around him—how your body so lovingly allows him to ruin her from the inside out.
His teeth find your bottom lip, biting down as his other hand slides up to your throat, fingers wrapping around the column of your neck. He squeezes lightly, rhythmically, matching the desperate clench of your pretty pussy around him.
Higuruma wants to cum with you. But he can feel you're already there—already tipping over the edge—
"Hiro... 'm gonna—"
"Oh?" He doesn't slow down. If anything, he fucks you harder. "Without me, dear? How inconsiderate." His thumb presses into the side of your throat. "Go ahead. But I won't be granting leniency. You cum now and then you're going to keep coming until I say stop."
"P-Pleaseeee, m-mercyyy—" You're babbling, desperate. The word slips out before you can stop it: "—Judge."
Higuruma almost cums right then and there, hips stuttering.
"Oh, you're pushing it now, princess."
Your doe eyes blink up at him, and somewhere beneath the desperation, you find the brat in you after all.
"What's wrong, your honor?" The words drip from your lips like honey, saccharine and deliberately provocative. "Did I say something I shouldn't have?"
Higuruma's grip tightens on your throat—not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you who's in control here. His hips still, cock buried deep, twitching inside you.
"Careful, dove."
You clench around him deliberately.
Something in him snaps. No more warnings.
Higuruma pulls out and you're immediately feeling the loss of him—but before you can protest, his hands are hooking under your thighs and hauling your ass up off the sofa.
Drenched in your combined mess, and his grip slips once before he adjusts, hoisting you higher. Your legs end up over his shoulders, folded nearly in half, and you have nothing—no wall behind you, no leverage, nothing to hold onto but the thick column of his neck.
Completely at Higuruma's mercy.
Your nails dig into his skin on instinct—the only anchor you have.
"There we go." He groans at the bite of pain, positioning his cock at your entrance. "Hold on tight, princess."
He slams you down onto him in one brutal drop.
You scream.
The angle is devastating—deeper than before, impossibly deep, his cock splitting you open while gravity does the rest. You have no control here. Can't set the pace, can't shift positions—can't do anything but cling to him and take it. Every thrust jolts through your entire body, punching the air from your lungs.
Your nails rake down his neck and he hisses, but his eyes roll back in pleasure, not pain.
"Harder." He commands. "Mark me up. I want to feel you for days."
You're too fucked-out to process it fully—is he sadistic or masochistic? Both? Does it matter when he's bouncing you on his cock like you weigh nothing, arms flexing as he lifts and drops you with terrifying ease? You're nothing but a vessel now, suspended and speared utterly for his pleasure.
"I'm going to take care of you, princess. Take care of this pretty pussy." His palms grip your ass, fingers digging in white-knuckled, desperate for leverage as he fucks up into you. "Going to make sure she never goes hungry again. Every morning. Every night. Whenever she asks for it."
"Hiro—" You're sobbing, pleasure cresting unbearably high, just gasps and moans punched out of you with every thrust. "Please, I need to—I can't—"
"Not yet." Higuruma's jaw clenches, fighting his own release. "Hold it."
"I-I c-c-can't—" Your walls are fluttering around him, clenching involuntarily, and you see stars at the edges of your vision. "P-Please, please, J-Judge, I'll do anythinggggg—"
"Anything?" His hips stutter at the title, cock kicking inside you. "Dangerous words, doll. I'll hold you to them."
His grip on your ass tightens, nails biting into the soft flesh now—mirroring what you're doing to his neck. The wet slap of skin echoes obscenely through the office, your slick dripping down his thighs, pooling on the hardwood beneath you.
"From now on—" He's losing rhythm, thrusts turning erratic. "—this pussy gets what she needs... you'll come to me? You'll tell me exactly what she needs?"
"Y-Yes—y-yes!!! Jusss p-pleaseeee—"
"Every ache—" A brutal thrust. "—every need—" Another. "—you bring it to me. Understood?"
You're babbling incoherent confirmations, head lolling back, eyes rolling into your skull.
"Cum, then. Give it to me, babydoll—"
The orgasm tears through you like a live wire—blinding, violent, your pussy clamping down so hard he chokes on a moan. Your nails draw blood on his neck and he growls, burying himself to the hilt—
And then you feel it.
The first hot pulse of him flooding your insides. His cock kicking against your walls, swelling impossibly thicker as he empties himself into you. Rope after rope of cum painting your clenching cunt, so deep you swear you feel the warmth in your throat.
For a long moment, neither of you moves. The noises of your breathing filling the space.
His cock is still buried inside you, softening but not quite soft, and you can feel his cum leaking out around the seal of your bodies—dripping down your thighs, onto the floor, adding to the mess you've already made of his office.
Higuruma's forehead drops to yours, hips grinding through the aftershocks, working every last drop into you. "You feel that? How much I saved for you, dove?"
You can only whimper in response. You do feel it—the obscene heat spreading through your core, the way his cum has nowhere to go with his cock still plugging you full. When he shifts his hips, grinding deeper, some of it squelches out around the seal of your bodies.
"Taking it so well—" His voice is shot, barely above a rasp. "Milking every drop—good girl—"
Your legs are shaking. Your whole body is shaking.
"Hiro..." You're slurring, drunk on him. "Can't... can't feel my legs..."
A breathless laugh rumbles through his chest. "Mm." He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then the tear tracks still drying on your skin. Unbearably tender after everything he just did to you. "That's what happens when you taunt a man who's been starving for a month, doll."
"Worth it," you giggle.
"Brat." But there's only fondness in his voice.
Slowly, carefully, he shifts his grip—one arm hooked under your ass, the other cradling your back as he finally lets your legs slide off his shoulders. You wince at the change in angle, cunt clenching involuntarily around him, and he groans.
"Easy." His voice is strained. "Keep doing that and we won't make it to the shower."
You're tempted to test him. But exhaustion wins out, your body going limp against his chest as he carries you toward the bathroom.
"Let's get you cleaned up." His lips brush your temple. "Then I'll take you home, hm?"
You pout. After everything—after a month of waiting, of longing, of convincing yourself you were nothing but a convenient release—you're not ready for this to end.
Not ready to go back to your empty apartment and pretend tonight didn't change everything.
Higuruma catches the look on your face and chuckles softly.
"I mean my home," he clarifies, nudging the bathroom door open with his shoulder. "We can clean up properly there. I'll cook you breakfast." He sets you down on the counter, and you shiver at the cold marble against your bare skin—but he doesn't pull out, not yet, his half-hard cock still nestled inside you like he can't bear the separation either. "Then I can worship you the way you deserve. Properly. Without a deadline or a case file waiting on my desk."
Your heart stutters. "You don't have to—"
"I want to." His hands cup your face, thumbs stroking your cheekbones, and his eyes—god, his eyes are so soft now. Tired and tender and looking at you like you're something precious. "I should have done this a month ago. Should have made time. Should have told you what you are to me instead of assuming you'd wait."
"I would have." The admission slips out before you can stop it. "Waited, I mean. For you. I would have."
Something fractures in his expression. He doesn't say anything—just pulls you closer, pressing his lips to your forehead like he's trying to seal a promise there.
"You shouldn't have had to. No more waiting. No more silence. From now on, you tell me what you need—and I'll give it to you. Understood?"
"Understood, counselor."
His lips twitch. "Careful. You keep using titles and we'll never leave this bathroom."
You grin, exhausted and fucked-out and deliriously happy. "Is that a threat or a promise?"
"Both." He kisses you then—tongue gliding against yours, your taste still lingering. When he pulls back, his cock twitches inside you, thickening again.
"Definitely both."
"Mm." You pull back, pretending to consider. "I don't know. A month is a looooong time. I might need extensive compensation."
"Is that so?" Higuruma quirks a brow.
"Yup! Emotional damages. Pain and suffering." You tick them off on your fingers. "Loss of consortium—"
"You don't know what half those terms mean."
"I know what I want them to mean." you say slyly, clenching around him once more.
Realistically, you don't think either of you are leaving this office tonight.
𝐚𝐧: ahhh i love writing higuruma as an EATERRRRRRRR. this one was a lil bit more angsty, well not really angsty, reader is just super horny and it's making her a delulu pick me cjksdbfkjvhsb. i mean the way he dicked her down tho, who could blame her? lol this one was a bit more cute endings than im used to writing. i feel like its a bit cheesy but w/e, we ball. im tired of editing it hfdjkvhbf. so also sorry for any errors or duplicate sentences as i reworked alot of this fbsdhbsd.
𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼? then please 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 or 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠! you can also join my gen. 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 or contribute to the 𝐛𝐢𝐦𝐛𝐨$𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐝.
okay i THINK i sent this to someone as an ask but i don't remember so i am going to post it again!! let me tell u this idea i have of going to the club with bestie!roomie!toji
you're all comfy in his lap, back against his broad chest, in a private booth (thank you shiu) while the others in the group are busy drinking or on the dance floor. but you are more than content with just staying with toji. the way his hand strokes up and down your back, occasionally, going over your hip and playfully squeezing your ass as he feigns innocence !!
trying to get him back by teasing him, pouting as you tell him that you want his opinion on this new outfit you bought bc you don't know if the color fits you. and he does NOT expect to see you open a picture of you posing in the mirror in cute pink lingerie that hugs you in all the right places. “i like this one, the pink set was so pretty, but i dunno if i like it on me,” you hum.
toji is losing his fucking MIND right now, his arms gripping you tighter as he lets out a heavy sigh at the view. he doesn't even get a chance to say anything before you're swiping to the left and you grow a little shy, giving a fake little 'woops'
instead of a picture, it’s a fucking video. a video of you fucking yourself with a toy playing on the screen angled so only he could see!! the volume is low so only you both can hear it and toji can HEAR the wet gushing of your pussy, creaming around the toy as you moaned and begged oh so cutely. “aww...toji, I couldn’t even get the toy all the way in,” you whine. “only got it halfway…”
its taking everything in him not to just fuck you right now, to show you he'd make sure you'd be able to get cock in you all the way. "kook at my best girl, so fuckin' desperate and needy," he hums, resting his chin on your shoulder as he watches the video. "tsk, tsk, tsk...poor think, y'should be filled up properly, hm? stretched on my cock til you're taking all of it...i'd make sure ya cream for real, baby doll."
“i wanted t’ send this to you, wanted you t’ see it and tell you t’ come help me get it in me,” you pouted, leaning into him. "plus, when it feels too good i can't help but run away from it, and it makes it sooo hard t' cum, tojiiiii....you wouldn' let me run from it, right, big guy?"
the way you look at him over your shoulder with those pretty eyes that just scream mischief..."mmn, you should've. i would've come over right away. make sure we get some cock into ya like y'need it. stretch you out niiiiice and good, get m'cock into that tight, pretty pussy of yours...like the good best friend i am," he purrs, pressing a kiss to your cheek.
hhnngg i need him to be my best friend + roommate so bad
toji with his wife who gets absurdly wet and noisy, so he has to put a hand over her mouth to get her to be quieter so he can hear each nasty squelch that comes from her cunt each time he pushes his dick deep inside
"shh, shh, shut up, s'fuckin' noisy, 'm tryna hear my other pretty girl talk t' me," he groans, his fingers slipping into her mouth. "oohh, she's so fuckin' sloppy, listen t' thaat...such a pretty thing f' me, mama."
ooouf, pervy!roommates toji and reader who do the nastiest shit with each other and say its just in the name of science
toji, who loves groping you while you watch tv, saying its just because your tits are free stress balls, but he's so focused on how your nipples start to get hard, the way your thighs squish together
you, who keeps putting your hands down his boxers because your hands are cold, but it always turns into you feeling him up, getting him to tug his boxers down a bit as you play with his cock, cheek smushed against his chest as you complain about how heavy his dick is, and gaze in awe at how his stupidly fat sack barely fits in one hand
toji, who has you pull down your panties so he can compare how warm your pussy is compared to his dick, enjoying the way you squeal when his cold ass fingers cup right over your mound, muttering in your ear how cute it is that you've got a chubby little cunt, and that he'd have to spread open to really get a good look at all of it.
you, who thinks its funny to slingshot your panties at toji right before you shower after humping your pillow, knowing that theyre still sticky and wet with your slick, masking your embarrassment with a cocky laugh as you tell him to have fun since your panties are the closest he will ever get to pussy (and you know its not true, not true at all)
toji, who thinks its just as funny to have his door wide open as he strokes himself with said panties, head behind his head as he loudly groans your name, seeing you walk by and trying not to look at him, but stopping you in your tracks when he asks you to bring him a drink
you, who thinks its fine to bring him a glass of water as he's mid stroke, sitting down on the bed next to him and striking up conversation as if he isn't looking you up and down, groaning when he realizes your still shiny from the fresh coat of lotion you rubbed on yourself, muttering under his breath how much he'd like to fuck those soft thighs, before going back to listening to whatever bullshit you came up with as an excuse to sit near him
Just a bit, when you bend over a certain way in front of him in the kitchen, and he catches sight of the pretty heart shape your ass makes in that pretty night gown.
A rare time without the Atelier full, he can't help but feel himself throb at the thought. Tip just leaking white underneath those white robes, you peek back curiously, smiling just a bit at him as he imagines filling your womb with him, problem is he's never even touched you aside from hugs, lingering caresses.
Now all he wants to do is shove your nightgown up and slide his cock inside
How wet would you be? Though he dislikes getting wet, he cant imagine your slick coating his cock wouldn't be perfect. He has seen it, peering in your room when he shouldn't, palming his cock like a pervert, you would never know he watched you toy pathetically with your cunt.
Oh, he could teach you so much.
"What is it, something on me?" You ask, just a bit nervous as that hauntingly blue eyes peers right down your tits, barely concealed in the nightgown.
You have come here to help him with the girls, but every moment you're alone? All you can think of is how much longer his fingers are, how big those hands are, how he'd feel -
Stop that, madness, really.
He was affectionate and kind, reserved in a way that made you achingly curious, but ultimately he seemed rather untouchable, though you practically felt touched. You could not help but to brush your fingertips across your own collarbone for a moment, to catch his gaze, see his lips parted ever so slightly.
"Anything wrong, Qifrey?"
"Ahem," he clears his throat just a bit, blush dancing on his own cheeks when he sees those nipples peak, and for a moment he imagines them so full, drippin' milk. How many babies would you give him? When the girls inevitably leave, surely you could fill the home-
"Nothing," he manages to smile, walking toward you now, brushing a lock of your hair back but lingering a bit, running it between his thumb and pointer finger. "Just your skin is glimmering, your body is singing to me, your cunt is so wet I can see it dripping when you bend over."
You suck in a breath, teeth biting down on your lower lip, when he looks at you in shock.
"I said that!?"
"You said that," he curses softly, turning to leave when you pause him, a hand on his back over that dark shirt that fits him too well. "Well, you're not wrong, though. I'm..."
"Ovulating."
"Mhm," he turns back around, brushing a bit of flour off your breasts, making goosebumps rise. "I'll be all right though, just... they hurt a bit is all."
"I could help," he undoes the little lacy tie there, letting one of your pretty tits beg for his mouth, his huge hand taking it over and squishing it, making you cry out. "Do you need help, love?"
You can't answer, just your eyes fluttering shut when he sucks your nipple and bending low, your hand tangled in snowy strands, thick and fluffy in your fingers. "ah!"
"Sore? Sensitive?" His voice drops so many octaves it should be scary, how deep and intense it is with that lilting accent, you just nod for your answer as he slides up your gown. "Do you not touch yourself when you're like this?"
"It was not working well," you admit, cursing then. "I mean..."
"I could help," he turns you now, bending you over and moaning at the sight, of your pretty ass on display, fingers sliding through the mess your slit is. "You should really focus here."
"Ngh!" He's shoving two fingers deep with ease despite the filthy stretch, leaning over you now, his glasses fogging with those breaths, moaning against your ear. "M-master Qifrey I..."
"Can't reach, can you darling? Tsk, no worries," he's moving them up and down, hitting that spongy spot with ease, feeling you drip down his wrists, soaking his very sleeves as he tugs at your hair. "Why don't you cum for me, you're already taking these exceptionally, hmm?"
"Please," you're already a mess, the sounds of your squelching cunt obscene in the quiet kitchen, his free hand wraps your throat as you arch desperately. "Please, please..."
"Use your words, you can be a good girl for me, can't you?" He whispers, teeth nipping your ear, fingers putting just the right amount of pressure as the other two press up, making you dizzy. "Please what? Please don't stop? Please let you cum? Please breed this slutty, soaking wet cunt?"
Fuck.
Breed you!?
He can't say that with his long fucking fingers and his goddamn accent, while you're ovulating. "B-breed me?"
"God yes," he's lost it now, yanking his fingers out to suck your juices off them, cheeks hollowing as he wraps his glossy lips. "Want me to fill you with babies, have the entire place full of them?"
"Yes," there's not a trace of hesitation, especially when he's bending you over the old kitchen table, and the fat head of his pretty cock is running up and down your folds. "B-breed me... mnh!"
"How do we ask, love," he whispers, even as he's leaking sticky white on your dripping wet pussy. "You're making such a mess, you know, dripping on the floors? Can't talk now?"
"Please," you whisper again. "Please breed me Sir."
That earns his cock shoving inside your cunt.
Oh, you thought Qifrey would ease his cock in, inch by inch, tease you? No, his entire length fills you to the cervix, he gives you a bit of mercy when he lets you adjust, when he eases back just enough to glide in your quivering walls.
"You're perfect for me," he whispers, feeling you clamp right down. "Perfect to take all of it, love, look at you."
You're a mess when he fucks you stupid, when he has you sore and drooling, sniffling and crying from overstimulation - when he taunts you for not knowing how to rub your clit so he helps you, letting both of your fingers move together. When he's shifting you so you're on the table, and he can watch his cock move inside you.
Well that's magic, isn't it?
Seeing his own cock print in your pretty body, spitting your juices in your open mouth, pumping you full of puffy white ropes of cum. He doesn't stop there, though, no - that wouldn't be fair when you begged so pretty. He must make sure that he fucks that cum right back inside, stealing every minute until you two aren't alone anymore.
You're a trembling mess once he's made sure to plug that white, leaky mess with his long fingers in your hole, when he watches you act all sweet and innocent later, knowing you're spilling him out.
Well, perhaps it's more than a little breed kink.
****
Next threesome w/gojo?
this is for my bbs @yenayaps @uhnosav @martianzmars hehee
CW: Stelle asks Blade to spar with her, and unfortunately that results in some unresolved sexual frustration, because c’mon, he’s still a whole ass man. Luckily, mama Kafka steps in to lend a helping hand. (Not her literal hand, she just buys the toy lol) phone sex, mutual masturbation? The fleshlight blade uses is connected to Stelle through the (magical) necklace that was part of the set. (Magical) creampie.
WARNING: Blade is very violent in his descriptions of how he threatens to bone Stelle. If you’re uncomfortable with him saying things along the lines of: —until the carnage is unrecognizable, —until you’re nothing but hot pulp running through my fingers (just to paraphrase loool) please do not read this. Blade is a very broken man, I was really trying to play off his more violent tendencies with this one. Stelle is so fuckin down bad tho (relatable)
If you are 18+, comfortable with some gory descriptors, and willing to read, please continue! Enjoy.
——————————
🐺👾: you want to…. Spar with blade? Are you a masochist or something? Should I be concerned?
🦝🗑️: shut up
🦝🗑️: I have this crazy lance and I don’t really want to hurt anyone by practicing with it
🦝🗑️: I know he’s got that healing thing going on
🐺👾: 👀 ….
🐺👾: I’m telling him you called it that
🦝🗑️: DONT U DARE
🦝🗑️: JUST PLEASE ASK THE MAN IF HE CAN SPAR WITH ME WITHOUT KILLING ME
🦝🗑️: AND DON'T TELL HIM IT'S ONLY BECAUSE HES WEIRDLY INDESTRUCTIBLE
🦝🗑️: I don’t wanna like, offend him or anything. Obvi I don’t want him to get hurt, but like, the off chance I slip up with this thing… he isn’t gonna get murked. You know?
🐺👾: okay okay I get it, I’ll ask
🦝🗑️: 😩🩶🩶💯🔥
🐺👾: he agreed. Here’s the coordinates. Have fun, don’t die.
————
“Thank you for agreeing to this, I really appreciate it!”
The man in front of Stelle says nothing, only stares as the winds coming off the water pick up loose strands of his hair, making the inky strands flow behind him.
“You… remember me, right?” Stelle tentatively asks.
Still nothing.
“It’s okay if you don’t, we don’t even have to go through with this, I just thought you would be the best person for what I’m—“
“I remember you, Trailblazer. My mind is not so far eroded that I’d forget you so easily.”
His voice is dark, just as raspy as she remembers it. She has to clench her teeth to suppress a shudder. If March could hear her thoughts, she’d blush and squeal, smacking her arm in scandal. If Dan Heng could hear her thoughts… he’d institutionalize her immediately.
This man is dangerous. Incredibly dangerous. Stelle had to lie about where she was going just so no one would try to talk her out of it.
Danger always pulled at something inside her though, that nasty, deranged thing inside her that craved violence and adrenaline. She figured it was a side effect of hosting a stellaron inside her body, but man— did this guy make her wish she could have something else inside her body too.
*Wink wink*
Aeons. She’s such a fucking simp. If it wouldn’t make her look bat shit insane, she’d smack herself right now just to get her shit together.
“Oh…” she said instead. “That’s good. I’m glad.”
An awkward pause lingered between them, and she found herself thinking that maybe she was standing a bit too close to him, despite there being at least two feet between them.
“Are you… doing well? The last time I saw you, Kafka was… helping you feel better.” She said hesitantly.
It could’ve been her imagination, but she swore that the furrow of his brow softened ever so slightly.
“We’re not here to discuss such trivial matters.” His voice was harsh nonetheless.
“Right, right.” Stelle said, scratching the back of her neck sheepishly. “So, how do we do this?”
Blade summoned his sword, dragging his fingertips across the edge before spreading the tainted blood across the flat of it, causing the cracked blade to glow and radiate with unnatural power.
“It is not your time or place to die here, so luckily for you, I will show restraint.”
—————
Stelle could tell Blade was holding back, true to his word.
Any flames she created were either quelled by his winds, or overfanned by his elemental power to the point that they grew too dangerous for the environment around them, or even Stelle herself.
She found that with her control over the lance, she could call forth and dissipate her fires at will, so the damage to herself was minimal.
She worried that if the flames grew too large, she’d lose control over them— but every time, she willed them away and they would flicker out, leaving charred shrubbery and stone in their wake.
Didn’t mean they weren’t hot as shit though.
The first time she’d used the lance, the freezing temperatures of Jarilo XI dulled just how hot her new weapon could become.
But now, well she couldn’t tell if her sweat was from the flames or just how hard her opponent was pushing her.
He was toying with her, clashing together brutally before jumping away and circling her like a hawk.
He was resistant to her taunts, though keeping up with him left little room for her to pause long enough to think of something to say.
He seemed completely at ease though, the violence in his eyes and the murderous grin doing nothing to help the degenerate part of her brain that was screaming and crying and throwing up at the opportunity to observe him like this up close, without Dan Heng around to make her feel guilty for admiring this man so much.
Her arms grew heavy, and she’d not even made him sweat, let alone injure him in any way.
She knew that the lack of true danger was causing her to remain at a reasonable power level, flash backs to the Herta space station incident making her shudder.
She was really no match for him in this kind of situation.
He lunged for her again, and this time, she was too tired to react properly. She parried his strike, but missed the signs of his next move, getting her feet swiped out from beneath her as he tackled her to the ground. His sword stabbed into the dirt just beside her head as he landed on top of her, effectively straddling her as he pinned her with his intense gaze.
Her eyes flitted back and forth between his as her breath heaved in her chest, her heart racing as she struggled to right herself after being disoriented so badly.
Something in his expression shifted, and instead of murderous amusement, his gaze seemed… hungry.
He leaned closer, ever so slowly, and continued staring at Stelle so intently it made her do something so embarrassing she knew she would never live it down.
She whimpered.
His eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he was gone.
He pulled away from her and disappeared within the same breath, leaving her lying there in the dirt as she caught her breath.
She ran her hands over her face. “Well fuck.”
—————
🐺👾: what did you do to him?
🦝🗑️: ???????
🐺👾: last week. When the two of you sparred, did something happen?
🦝🗑️: ….
🦝🗑️: why
🐺👾: ever since he got back he’s been fucking pouting.
🐺👾: well, I mean pouting in the way that blade does. It’s more of a scowl than anything else, but I’ve known him long enough to differentiate between his various types of frowns.
🦝🗑️: … nothing happened. We fought. I lost, obviously. But no one was hurt or anything. 🙃 everything’s totally normal
🐺👾 added Kafka🕷️💕 to the chat
🐺👾: Kafka, what’s she hiding?
Kafka🕷️💕: some sexual tension, most likely.
🦝🗑️: …. -_-
🦝🗑️: mother, why hast thou forsaken me????
Kafka🕷️💕: nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetie.
Kafka🕷️💕: Bladie may be a tragic creation of the abundance, but his body was once human. It wouldn’t be a far stretch to say that some of the more… human tendencies of a man may still linger within him.
🐺👾: F
🦝🗑️: F
🐺👾: so you’re saying he’s pouting and kicking shit because he’s sexually frustrated? That’s fuckin nasty.
🐺👾: @🦝🗑️ you need to fix this. I don’t wanna look at him sulk anymore
🦝🗑️: me?!!?!? Tf am I supposed to do??? How is this my fault???
🐺👾: you fought him and now he’s horny. Fix it.
🦝🗑️: … bruh
Kafka🕷️💕: I don’t think the traditional way of solving this problem will be the best idea, silver wolf. 🤭
🐺👾: wym? 🤨
Kafka🕷️💕: I don’t think it’s safe right now for our little trailblazer and Bladie to get together on a more intimate level… he’s still a bit unstable mentally.
🦝🗑️: you let me fight this man while hES UNSTABLE
🐺👾: heh. L
Kafka🕷️💕: fighting is what he knows. It’s what comes natural to him these days. Emotions? Not so much.
🦝🗑️: I mean… I’m always down to help anyone whenever I can
🐺👾: *tucks hair behind ear* “i’M aLwAys DoWn tO HeLP aNyONe WHeNeVEr I cAn”
🦝🗑️: BRO FIGHT ME
🐺👾: no thanks, I have better ways to waste my time
🦝🗑️: ENGAGE ME IN A BATTLE OF FISTICUFFS RN
🦝🗑️: IM ALWAYS DOWN TO HELP BUT USUALLY I GET NICE REWARDS TOO
🐺👾: heh… you want a nice reward for this one too?
🦝🗑️: I STTA ILL COME FIND UR LITTLE HOLOGRAM AND SMACK THE SHIT OUTTA YOU
🐺👾: wtf does stta stand for you heathen
Kafka🕷️💕: ooh! She’s used this one with me before. It’s “swear to the aeons.” Cute, right?
🐺👾: 🙄
🐺👾 has left the chat
Kafka🕷️💕: I think I have an idea on how you can help, if you’re open to it.
🦝🗑️: …
🦝🗑️: what do I need to do?
———
“Stelle sweetie!” Himeko knocked on her cabin door. “You have a package here.”
Stelle nearly slipped as her sock feet slid along the smooth floor of her room in her haste to reach the door.
She tumbled along gracelessly and threw open her door, huffing as she took the package from Himeko.
A box, about five hands wide and three hands deep, wrapped in plain brown paper, with a little card tapped on and slathered with all the necessary postage.
“Thank you!” Stelle said hastily, reaching for her door.
“Wait—“ Himeko put a hand to the door shaft, stepping forward a bit with worry in her eyes.
Stelle cringed a bit, looking up at Himeko and trying to hide the shame she felt creeping up the back of her neck.
“Listen,” Himeko started, eyeing the little card on the package with Stelles name written in pretty, looping letters. “I know you and that stellaron hunter have some strange connection that we aren’t sure about, and I know you’re unsure too, but I just want you to be careful, okay?”
It took a solid two panicked seconds for Stelle to realize that Himeko was speaking about Kafka, and not the other stellaron hunter she’d so guilty formed a connection with recently.
When the realization dawned on her, she tucked her package to the side and pulled Himeko into a tender side hug, snuggling into her chest a bit as she usually did.
“Thank you for worrying about me, Himeko.” Stelle said, pulling away. “It means a lot to me, and I promise I’m being careful. I won’t do anything to jeopardize the safety of anyone on the express.”
Himeko sighed, smiling as she pulled back too. “I know, I just worry about you. We’re all here to support you through this, you know that.”
Stelle grinned. “I do, thank you.”
The red haired woman nodded, smiling still as she said her goodbyes and left Stelle to her own devices.
She’d never closed and locked her door so quickly before.
Throwing the package on her bed, she hastily sat beside it and pulled the card from the packaging.
She took a moment to trace her fingers over the pretty script on the card, before she tore open the envelope and read its contents.
Stelle,
Inside this box you’ll find the fun toy I told you about, along with a new shipping label to send it off to Bladie.
I’m off on my own right now, far away from him, and I figured he’d handle it a lot better if it came from you, and not me. hehe~
Also, you’ll find a beautiful little necklace I had added to the set, that’s for you to wear. I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time with it.
Thinking fondly of you always,
K
Stelle blushed a little, Kafka was always saying the strangest things. She tucked the card away in her nightstand and gently pried open the package, not wanting to tear the postage stamps.
Inside was indeed the… thing that she was told about, and she blushed furiously while looking at the nondescript white box, though the size and shape was very indicative of what was inside.
She pulled the new shipping label out, looking at the address inquisitively and realizing she had no idea where Blade even was, not recognizing the planet.
She sat it aside and pulled out the other small box inside, opening it up and finding a rather beautiful blue choker necklace. The colour was reminiscent of her garter, and she smiled, happily pulling the gift from its box and wrapping it around her slender throat.
It clicked nicely in the back, and fit perfectly. She smiled, patting it and thinking about how it was such a thoughtful gift, however strangely unrelated. Then again Kafka was a bit of an enigma regardless, so who knows what her thought process was when putting these two together.
Stelle closed up the box, slapping the new shipping label over the old one and eyeing it as it sat in the middle of her bed.
Fuck, I should probably write him a letter, some kind of explination so he doesn’t just throw it away without opening it.
She scurried to her desk, pulling out a very cutesy animal themed stationary set that March had gifted her after their mission on Jarilo XI.
The envelopes and cards were soft blue, covered in cute little bunnies and bears and what Stelle thinks are pink raccoons, surrounded with hearts and little stars.
She laughed at the idea of Blade handling such delicate paper, and got to writing a quick note on her desk.
Hey,
Don’t hate me, but SW was complaining about your… mood lately, and I thought this might help. I totally fuckin get it, trust me, I understand. Traveling with a group of people that’s more like family than anything else can really put a damper on your… personal time. So please take time for yourself, if not for me, then to at least make silver wolf stop complaining to me that you’re moody.
I look forward to the day you’ll spar with me again.
-Stelle
It might’ve been doing a bit too much, but Stelle couldn’t help but feel like the note might help him to be more receptive to the gift.
Being a bit delusional never stopped her before, so why should it now?
She slid the card in the envelope and slapped it to the package, picking it up to go and have it delivered. Hopefully she could feel a bit more at peace once it was gone.
—————
A quick and impatient knock sounded on his room door, pulling him from his deep meditation on the floor.
“Hey asshole, you’ve got a package.”
He and Silver Wolf were sent together to fulfill one of Elio’s scripts, and it was a brief period of lull in their respective duties.
The inn they were staying at wasn’t lavish by any means, but they were discreet, and that’s really all they could hope for.
Blade released a breath through his nose as he rose from the floor, walking over and opening up his room to find his fellow hunter standing impatiently, tapping her foot on the rough carpet of the hallway.
Blade hated carpet in the hallways of inns. Always disgusting and ridiculously coloured.
“Here.” Silver Wolf shoved the box in his hands, her grin was wide, spreading to her eyes which twinkled up at him with the mischief he tried so desperately to avoid.
“Who could possibly know where we are right now.” He grumbled at her, though she was already turning to leave.
“I have an inkling, and hopefully the stick falls out of your ass soon.” She laughed maniacally as she waltzed down the hall. “Enjoy!”
Blade felt his brow scrunch up tight as he eyed the package. The blue envelope tapped into it was terrible to look at, the childish print making him want to throw it away immediately, but the unfamiliar lettering spelling his name across the paper made him pause.
He brought the package to his bed, sitting down and thumbing open the envelope.
The contents of the card made his stomach drop and then lurch into his throat. He was ready to run silver wolf through with his sword.
Calm yourself.
He took steady breaths, though he was angry, he was also rather curious about what exactly was in the box.
With a carefulness he didn’t remember he had, he pried open the package to find a smaller white box without any words or indicators of what could be inside.
He lifted the lid, only to drop it in shock at what lurked within. He knew what that was. He was older than most but he was still a man, and he knew exactly what had been sent to him— what was to help his “mood.”
He sighed, pinching his temples. He didn’t know whether he wanted to thank silver wolf or strangle her. Either way, he’d be getting some kind of relief today.
———————
Stelle was eating dinner when she felt the first phantom touch.
Fingertips, as soft as a whisper, ghosting over her pubic mound and making her stomach dip.
Her eyes darted around, but everyone else was still enjoying their meal, chatting quietly together with the melody of silverware accompanying their voices.
She was sat beside Dan Heng tonight, but both of his hands were above the table.
She leaned back to look at him below the waist, looking to see if he’d manifested his tail and was making a pass at her, or more likely, was absentmindedly flicking it about like he did whenever he took his secondary form.
But no, he was tailless this evening, and now eyeing her a bit warily as her eyes darted around.
“You okay?” He murmured, not wanting to bother the others.
The touch ghosted along her outer labia now, making her drop her fork in shock.
Everyone was looking at her now, and she felt something pulse around her throat, right where her new necklace rested.
Her face heated, and she placed her utensils onto her half finished plate before scooting from behind the table.
“I’m… not feeling the greatest. I think I’m gonna go to bed early, if you all don’t mind.”
She stood quickly, standing there for a moment as the touches continued, soft and inquisitive.
“Are you alright?” Welt asked, concerned. “Would you like me to bring you some tea, or medicine?”
“No!” Stelle jumped, before she caught herself and smiled sheepishly. “I’m alright, just feeling a little off. Probably just need some good sleep. I’ll see you all in the morning?”
They all nodded, watching her go with worried eyes, but letting her leave without more questioning, which she was so grateful for.
As soon as she made it to her room, she felt the first touch swipe through her core, and she nearly keened.
Her throat pulsed, the necklace weakly glowing in the dark of her room.
Her body felt hot. She was embarrassed at the amount of wetness that was pooling in her underwear, but most importantly, she was so fucking confused at what was going on.
Something wet and blunt prodded at her entrance, and her knees buckled as she locked her door.
She nearly crawled to her bed as her choker pulsed and pulsed with a weak glow, and the blunt thing, which felt suspiciously like a pair of fingers, finally slipped inside her, curiously prodding around, as if feeling her out.
She slapped a hand over her mouth as she squeezed around the phantom digits, their touch lingering at her g spot with ridiculous precision. The fingers withdrew and she breathed a sigh of relief, though it was short lived as something much, much larger prodded itself at her entrance.
Her eyes widened, and she scrambled to pull Kafkas card from her bedside drawer.
“you’ll find a beautiful little necklace I had added to the set, that’s for you to wear. I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time with it. “
Stelle hadn’t realized what those words meant at the time, but as the blunt head of a ridiculously sized phallic object pushed at her hole, the meaning slapped her in the face like a rouge automaton.
Her back arched off the bed as the phantom cock pushed into her, and she choked on a moan as it buried itself deep within her. She was so ridiculously wet she wanted to cry, and knowing who was on the other end of this feeling made her eyes roll back into her head.
The thrusts started slow, but slowly worked their way up to something more intense, almost violent. Her insides churned, and she felt the telltale signs of an orgasm building up so quickly she might scream.
No, no no no. She scrambled, reaching for the necklace, but when her fingers reached the latch, the thrusts changed angles, pounding directly into her g-spot and she cussed into the dark of her room.
Her orgasm washed over her like a tidal wave, crashing into her and seeping deep into her bones. It was the first actually satisfying orgasm she’d had in an incredibly long time.
Her fingertips shook as they lingered on the necklace a moment, before she threw them back to her sheets, gripping them tightly as the thrusts continued.
Fuck, this feels too good.
Through the post orgasm fog, she wondered if he knew.
Did he know it was connected to her?
She suddenly felt overcome with guilt. If he didn’t know, this felt a little like taking advantage of his struggles. If he did know, then she wanted to hear him say it out loud, that he knew exactly what he was doing to her.
She wanted him to hear exactly what he was doing to her.
With shaking hands and twitching thighs, she slapped around her bed for her phone, biting her lip through the pleasure to scroll through her contacts.
It was nearly at the bottom, and the last time it was used was a hack of Silver Wolf’s, and Kafkas words, not his own. But she had to try regardless.
She clicked the call button, bringing her phone to her ear as she bit back moans.
Suddenly, the thrusting within her stopped, though the phantom cock remained buried within her.
She gasped as the ringing came to a halt as the line picked up.
There was no answer, though she swore she could hear his breathing, just a bit heavier than usual.
“Don’t… don’t stop.” She whispered.
She thought she heard his breath catch in his throat. She definitely heard the swallow before he spoke.
“What are you talking about.” His gravelly voice reverberated through the phone, and she felt the cock inside her move ever so slowly, in and out.
She bit her lip. “I didn’t know at first, I swear.” Her thoughts were scrambled as the soft thrusts continued, and the knowledge that he was actively fucking himself with the toy while she spoke make her stomach jump in pleasure.
“You didn’t know what?” He said, voice low and nearly at a whisper.
“It’s… we’re… we’re connected.”
The toy stopped, and she sucked in a breath of relief, hoping to gather her thoughts so she could properly explain herself.
Suddenly a moan was ripped from her chest as his cock thrust into the toy with vigor, and his intense pace was picked back up tenfold.
She tried to hide it, but the damage was done, and if he didn’t know before, he certainly did now as he listened to her whine and whimper through the phone.
“I thought the inside felt far too realistic.” He growled. “You’re squeezing me so tight, little Nameless.”
She gasped, his voice along with the stimulation was far too much, and another orgasm was quickly approaching.
She tried to play it off like she wasn’t being fucked within an inch of her life though.
“Yeah well, it’s… been a while since I’ve gotten any action, s-so forgive me for being a little tense.” She stammered.
He switched his thrusts to hard and deep, so hard Stelle could nearly feel the sensation of his hips hitting hers, and she’s almost positive the fat of her lower half would be rippling in the recoil if he were actually here.
“I knew as soon as I saw you that you were just a needy hole begging to be filled.” Blade said, voice deep and oh so condescending.
Stelle fisted the sheets, her eyes nearly rolling into her skull as her needy moans slipped through clenched teeth. He was right, he was so right— but that didn’t mean she needed to concede so easily.
“That’s bold talk…” she hissed, biting her lips until they felt raw. “…For someone who literally ran away from m-me as soon as his blood traveled south.”
His dark laugh made her squeeze around him, and she knew he could feel it because the laugh trickled off into a deep groan that set her face on fire. She felt like her fingertips were alight with electricity, like her body was attempting to defy the artificial gravity on the express as she arched off her sheets.
The pounding within her never faltered as he continued speaking his vile, filthy words at her.
“You’re lucky I did, little Nameless.” She could almost imagine his murderous grin, the violence that vibrated through his voice was astounding. “If I had stayed I would have fucked you until not even your beloved crew would have been able to recognize the carnage I’d left behind.”
She couldn’t stop the noise that flew from her throat, a guttural keening that had her gripping her cellphone in embarrassment as he laughed once more.
“Oh?” He teased, voice edged with gravel and venom. “You must be desperate to enjoy the idea of me fucking you until you’re nothing but hot pulp slipping through my fucking fingers.”
Oh she was so desperate, so fucked. If anyone else had said something so absolutely horrifying, she’d have run far, far away.
“Does the rest of the express crew know how fucking depraved you are?” His thrusts seemed to pick up speed, which would’ve seemed nearly impossible, except she couldn’t exactly think at the moment, only sob as they slammed against that spot inside her over and over again until she felt herself slipping slowly.
“Do they know that their precious little star wants to be fucked by a monster?” He snarled, and she cried out into the soft light of her room, thrashing around as her orgasm teased its way at her— but she was holding it back, why, why?
“Please,” she gasped. “Please, can I—“ oh, she thought distantly. Oh I’m so fucked up.
Blade groaned, the slick sounds of him thrusting into the toy ringing in her ear. “So desperate, so polite. You really are something else.”
She keened, arching her back as the feeling licked at her further, so close to toppling over the edge.
“Go on then,” Blade whispered darkly. “Cum for me.”
It crashed over her, more powerful than anything she could remember feeling. It pulsed through her in quick waves, so strong and violent as he just kept going.
It started to dance into sickly sweet overstimulation as she heard his breath quicken, and she steadied her breath, wanting to savor this moment.
“You know,” she breathed. “I’m a lot tougher than you think.”
His breath stuttered, his pace faltering ever so slightly.
“I could take it,” she whispered. “I don’t think you’d hurt me in any way I didn’t want you to.”
He faltered, and she heard him cuss under his breath through the phone.
“Yeah?” He whispered. “You’d take what I give you?”
She nodded at her ceiling, knowing he couldn’t see her, but her mind was too foggy with brutal pleasure to think straight. He was undoing her.
“Every disgusting, violent, nasty thing you’d give me Blade,” she said, clutching the sheets as tears welled behind her eyes, praying he was almost finished but simultaneously never wanting it to end. “I’d take it so well for you, and I’d thank you for it.”
“Fuck.” Blade moaned, deep and guttural, and his thrusting seized inside her. Much to her shock, she could feel the warmth of him filling her up, pump and after pump of him coating her insides.
They both lay there, staring at their ceilings and breathing heavily over the phone, not speaking but not really wanting to anyways.
Finally, once the breath returned to her lungs unlaboured, she felt him pull himself from the toy.
She felt like she’d been hollowed out, like a crater had been formed where her insides should be, and without him there plugging her up—-her guts would fall out and she’d be left empty.
He made a confused noise, and just as he did she felt the telltale squelch of cum slipping from her still twitching insides, and she groaned in frustration.
“Well then,” he chuckled, softer now than before— almost a forbidden sound. “That makes cleaning up easier for me.”
She smacked her hand over her face. “This is the weirdest toy ever invented, and I'm going to cry the next time I have to face Kafka.”
“I figured this had something to do with her,” he said, shuffling noises heard from his end of the line. “She can never stay out of my business for too terribly long, unfortunately.”
“Mine too it seems.” Stelle sighed. She smiled when he made a neutral sound of agreement.
“You sound like you’re in a better mood.” She said, uncaring of the consequences.
“Well, before I realized what this really was, I was just hoping to release some inconvenient pent up energy.” He said, voice flat. “But I suppose doing it this way has added benefits. I’m no fool, I understand how the human brain works.”
“So this… helped you?” Stelle asked tentatively.
He sighed. “I’d be lying if I said it was entirely useless.”
Stelle smiled, stroking the choker around her throat, the delicate glow now completely faded.
“I’ll keep my end of the connection on, it's simple enough. Just call me next time, okay? I don’t need to embarrass myself at dinner again.”
“I make no such promises.” She thought she heard the faintest of smiles in that last sentence before the line went dead.
having ryomen sukuna as your boyfriend is like having your own six foot four two hundred thirty pound body guard and you absolutely love it.
“seatbelt.” he’ll say when you hop into the passenger seat of his truck and immediately go to fix your mascara in the mirror instead of ensuring your own safety.
“is your location on?” he’ll ask as you’re actively using his forearm as a support beam to hurriedly slip on a pair of dangerously high heels so you can meet your friends waiting outside.
“when i call ‘n check up on you, you answer, got it? y’know i’ll come find you if you don’t.” he’ll kiss into the crook of your fragrance oiled neck before you leave.
and whenever you’re in public with him you can literally just turn your brain off, because why would you need to think when your boyfriend can do it for you?
like when you’re strolling outside on a summer day, features illuminated gorgeously by the sun’s golden rays. lips freshly glossed and phone held out in front of your face as you try to get the angle right for your selfies. just as you go to snap the picture you distractedly take a step towards the asphalt to cross the street without looking, only to get photobombed by a large hand reaching out, palming your forehead like a basketball and pulling you back onto the sidewalk.
or how about when you’re tugging him through the mall and on your way to your seventh store, your shopping bags laddered up his left arm and your arm looped around his right, dainty finger tips brushing against the slightly raised lines of his tattoos as he follows your lead and listens to you go on and on about whatever the fuck.
and you’re just strutting beside him without a worry in the world in one of those skimpy little skirts he absolutely fucking despises (but paid for anyway) when your lip gloss accidentally slips from between your manicured hands and clatters onto the ground.
as soon as sukuna hears you go ‘oops!’ he’s already stepping behind you to shield your backside from view with his body because you’re bending right over to pick it up without even thinking about who you might flash, or who’s ass he might have to beat for looking too hard. and as the ever yearning man he hates to admit he is, he can’t help but let his head weigh down a bit to selfishly steal a glance at those pretty pink panties you’re wearing and lick his lips at how deliciously they cling to your cunt.
he’s suddenly grateful for your shopping addiction, as he can now use one of your many bags to hide the bulge tightening within his pants as the two of you continue walking. maybe that skirt isn’t so bad, he thinks.
imagine doing that tiktok trend with yuji where you set your phone up, run as fast as you can like your life depends on it, and see how long it takes for your boyfriend to catch you.
and when you explain it to him he just shrugs with a gentle little smile and says, “sure, babe. sounds fun.” because your sweet boy would do anything you ask him to.
so with your phone propped up, you quickly hit the record button, then break into a sprint while yuji waits with his hands in his pockets, watching you closely and counting to ten like you told him to.
and you keep count in your head, too. to make sure he’s not cheating of course.
but it’s something about seeing you run from him that entices him in a way he doesn’t expect. makes a delicious anticipation bubble inside him, makes his jaw clench. his lips take to a smirk once he realizes that’s what you wanted, and then he takes a breath.
“ten.”
he takes off immediately, a little dirt kicked up in his absence from how powerfully his foot launched him into motion.
and you’re a mess of giggles as you run, heart beating against your ribcage because you know it won’t be long. you don’t bother looking back, you know you can’t outrun him.
you haven’t even blinked twice when a pair of strong arms snake themselves around your middle and he’s got you caged in the air with a low grunt, your backside pressed against his chest, feet kicking and flailing as you squeal between laughter for him to let you go. his hold only tightens further, biceps flexing with a little more effort when you squirm. his hands are locked on his forearms that bind you to him, ensuring you won’t be going anywhere.
you can feel the rapid thumping of his heartbeat, the heat of his body and it makes you pull your bottom lip under your teeth. there’s no need to wonder if this excited him as much as it did you, because you can feel it.
it’s exhilarating, to say the least. you’re completely out of breath, and just as you expected, he’d barely even made an effort.
the sharp of yuji’s canines gently nip at the shell of your ear to make your breath catch in that way he likes, his voice low and smoldering, yet sending a shiver down your spine when he whispers,
Gojo makes your pretty belly bulge for all his viewers ♡
୨୧ — The chat explodes when Gojo hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and drags them aside.
He doesn't take them off- just stretches the soaked fabric to one side and holds it there, pinning it against your inner thigh so nothing obstructs the camera's view. His other hand slides between your legs, two fingers pressing against your slit, and then he spreads you open.
Slow. Deliberate. Like he's unwrapping something precious.
"There she is," he murmurs. The ring light catches everything- the dewy, flushed stretch of your cunt, the slick strands of arousal that glint and snap as he parts your folds wider, webbing between his fingers like honey. Your hole clenches on nothing, gummy and pathetically empty.
Heh, look at that. She's dripping already and I've barely touched her.
"See how wet she gets?" His voice is like silk, pitched for the microphone. Donations ping in a frenzy. "All these people watching and your little pussy's just weeping for it."
He keeps you spread with one hand and uses the other to guide his cock to your entrance- just the tip, fat and flushed and shiny with precum. The camera catches the exact moment he nudges in... the way your gummy walls stretch and clench around the head, resisting and yielding in the same breath, that first inch sinking into wet, sucking heat.
"Nnnh-"
"Shh, I got you." He rocks forward -just barely- letting the stream see how your pussy swallows him centimeter by centimeter, that tight ring of muscle gripping his girth like it's trying to milk him already, "watch this."
He snaps his hips.
Your scream breaks apart into static. One brutal thrust buries him to the hilt, his cock punching so deep you feel it in your fucking chest- and when you look down, when the camera tilts to follow his gaze, you can see it.
The bulge.
His cock outlined against your lower belly, a thick ridge pressing up beneath your skin with every thrust. He presses his palm flat against it, feels himself moving inside you.
"Right there," he groans, grinding up into that deep spot "feel that? That's your cervix, baby. That's where I'm gonna -fuck- where I'm gonna ruin you."
And then he batters it.
His pace turns savage- hips snapping with brutal precision, that fat cock ramming your cervix over and over until your insides feel like mush. Each thrust punches a whimper out of you, your walls going soft and sloppy around him, unable to do anything but take it. The bulge in your tummy jumps with every stroke, obscene and undeniable.
"Oh god- oh god- 'Toru- c-can't -hnngh-"
"yeah you can." His voice is wrecked, strained, "and you're gonna cum while they watch."
She's getting so tight- squeezing me like she's trying to break my cock off-
The wet sounds are obscene. Your pussy squelches with each pump, arousal churning into something thicker, frothier- a white, creamy mess that clings to his shaft and oozes out around the stretched rim of your hole. It smears against his pelvis, his balls, drools in sticky rivulets down to the sheets.
"There it is," he breathes, thumb finding your clit, "there's my messy girl. You hear that? Hear how sloppy you're getting?"
Schhllk
He grinds against your battered cervix, holds there, and your orgasm crashes through you like a wave- walls clamping, legs seizing, voice cracking on a sob as your cunt creams around him in thick, milky spurts. He doesn't stop. He can't stop. Just fucks you through it, churning your release into a frothy ring at the base of his cock, the camera catching every filthy detail.
The view count ticks past thirty thousand.
His cock throbs inside your spasming cunt, and Gojo just laughs- breathless, wrecked, mean.
Thinking about Gojo Satoru using you as gym equipment ♡
୨୧ — "Need something heavier than plates," Gojo muses in the training room, those blue eyes sparkling with mischief as they land on you. Before you can protest, he's already scooped you up.
"Satoru!" you squeal as he positions himself on the exercise mat, settling you to straddle his hips while he lies back. "This is not what I meant when I said l'd help you workout," you giggle. His hands grip your thighs firmly as he starts his "workout."
"But you make such perfect resistance training," he pouts, flexing his abs as he starts thrusting his hips upward, lifting you effortlessly.
Each movement has you bouncing on his pelvis, your core clenching involuntarily... "the perfect weight-" he grins, powerful hips driving up to lift you again, "Though maybe I should add some resistance..."
His fingers slip beneath your workout shorts, finding you already slick, "Oh~?" He wiggles his eyebrows at you, "Someone's enjoying being used as gym equipment~"
You bite your lip as he starts timing his thrusts with teasing circles against your clit. "N' t-this isn't... proper exercise form..."
"No?" His hips snap up sharply, making you gasp, "Seems like excellent muscle engagement to me. Plus..." he slides two fingers inside you while maintaining his rhythmic thrusts, "my fingers are getting some bonus cardio."
Your hands brace on his chest as he continues his "workout," each upward drive of his hips pushing his fingers deeper, "Satoooru... some-someone could come in... this is hah~ a public g-gym..." you bite your lip to stifle a deep moan.
"Better hold on tight then," he groans, increasing not only his hips pace, but his fingers as well, "Got about fifty reps to go... unless you tap out first~"
You whimper as he curls his fingers, knowing full well you won't last nearly that long... and that's exactly what he's counting on.
"Besides," he smirks up at you, "this is much more fun than regular weights. They don't make such pretty noises."
"Satoru!" you moan as he hits a sensitive spot, your nails biting into him.
"That's it, baby," he encourages, his movements growing more intense. "Help me work up a sweat."
