Here you'll find books of all different kinds. Please feel free to leave me any requests! I am very much down to write 99.9% of anything.
I'm currently hyperfixating on Love and Deepspace, so most if not all will be about Love and Deepspace at the moment, along with JJK.
♡ - NSFW
⟡ - SFW
Love and Deepspace
Zayne
⟡ - Aegritudo
Summary: When a cardiac surgeon can't diagnose his own feelings, he turns to the ultimate source of reliable information: Google. What could possibly go wrong?
⟡ - Hair Washing
Summary: You take care of Zayne and he allows it for once in his life.
♡ - How to Give Zayne a Blowjob!
Summary: You give Zayne the best blowjob of his life.
Rafayel
♡ - Thighs
Summary: Needy and Pathetic Raf short
⟡ - Rafayel at the Aquarium
Summary: Jealous raf!
⟡ - Rafayel Gets A Cat...? Part 1
Summary: MC gets turned into a cat, Rafayel has to suck it up.
⟡ - The Fish That Bind
Summary: How art captures a soul | How art betrayed Rafayel for the first time.
♡ - Rafayel Loves Musty Pussies!
Summary: We all know that Rafayel, our beloved lemurian has a scent kinkーbut to what extent? The answer is yes. Rafayel's scent kink extends beyond perfume.
♡ - Alpha Rafayel
Summary: The things Alpha Rafayel would do for you and to you.
Sylus
♡ - Kitten Hybrid!MC pt. 1
Summary:How Luke and Kieran messes around with Sylus with how Kitten!Hybrid MC dresses
⟡ - Trouble in Paradise
Summary: What can possibly go wrong with a secret or two?
⟡ - Now, Now, Kitten. Don't Bite.
Summary: Sylus gets jealous of Luke and Kieran's new toy for Kitten Hybrid!MC
♡ - Big Bad Bully X Crybaby
Summary: It's not Sylus' fault that he's so big and you cry at the smallest things.
⟡ - The Incident That Somehow Made Sylus' Childhood Exponentially Worse (or Sylus' Biggest Failure and Regret)
Summary: Why Sylus created his silly little mechanical crow, Mephisto. The who, what, where, when, why's and how's. A look into Sylus' Childhood.
.
Xavier
♡ - Xavier's Favorite Thing To Do!
Summary: Xavier's favorite thing to do is eating pussies.
♡ - Somnophilia
Summary: How Xavier makes you (fem mc) feel good.
♡ - How Xavier Would Eat You Out
Summary: How Xavier eats pussies in detail.
Caleb
♡ - Telekinesis
Summary:Caleb bullies you for hours with his cock .Or Caleb puts his Telekinesis Evol to use.
⟡ - Teacher!Caleb Headcanons
Summary: Caleb as an elementary teacher.
♡ - Photo
Summary: How Caleb fills the void when you're not there with him.
♡ - I Love You More Than You Know
Summary: Big bro Caleb's a big meanie in bed and he uses his evol on his cute little sister!
♡ - Caleb Was Not Naturally Born A Sex God
Summary: A headcanon.
Misc
♡ - Lads men are bad at sex
♡ - Least to most potent cum
♡ - Caleb's Cock Colors [CCC]
⟡ - Make your MC picrew (c) E_coms
⟡ - Soft 6th LI
♡ - Where would they cum?
A Note for the LADS Fandom
Icks
୨୧ — Gojo's hands shake like he's eighteen again, gripping your hips with white knuckled desperation, "Fuck, fuck, fuck-" his vocabulary reduced to caveman like grunts when you're under him like this, years of experience apparently meaning jack shit when your legs wrap around his waist.
He's all stuttering rhythm and graceless hunger, like he forgot how bodies work. One second he's jackhammering into you with supernatural speed, the next he's frozen completely, forehead pressed to your collarbone, panting like he just ran a marathon because your warmth threatens to undo him entirely... "Jesus, you’re…" He breaks off with a choked laugh, hips jerking erratically. "Fuck, been too long since I- shit, do that thing again. With your tongue again, please. Right there."
His demand is adorably needy, punctuated by a sharp, sloppy thrust as you scrape your teeth against the tendon of his neck, just how he likes it~.
Everything about his technique is pure chaos. No finesse, just raw need and that stupid boyish grin even when he's buried deep enough to kiss your cervix with the tip of his dick.
When you arch beneath him, a low moan tearing from your throat, your cunt clamps down hard around his cock. It’s a vice grip, a sudden, violent spasms that rippled through your entire body… Satoru’s eyes go wide, pupils blown. And for a moment, he forgets his name, yours, and any word that isn’t an expletive as you completely come undone.
It’s not just a flutter, not just a wetness, but a gush. Hot, sudden. A flood of your release soaking his entire cock, his balls, the thick thatch of white hair at his base. It rushes out of you in thick, uncontrollable waves, splattering onto his sheets beneath your ass with an audible wet splssh. The sound is obscene. Juices slicking his length, dripping down him, making his thrusts messy- obscenely wet.
"Did you just-? His voice is thick with pure awe, breathless. The stupid grin returns as he drives into that soaked cunt of yours, feeling the slick mess coating him. "Whoa! Youre like a little Squirtle." The ridiculous Pokémon joke tumbles out mid thrust… He’s so fucking pleased with himself, he almost fumbles his rhythm entirely,"Get it? 'Cause you just squir—"
"Satoru, I swear to God-" you gasp, but the protest is cut off as he angles his hips sharply, burying himself impossibly deeper.
"Yeah, yeah, less talking, more-"
The new angle hits that spongy spot inside you dead on, hard. A choked cry rips from you, followed instantly by another gush, soaking him further, the sheets beneath you now a dark, soaked circle.
But there’s something beautiful about how he fucks when he's like this- like he's afraid you'll disappear- like if he doesn't fill you up immediately you'll change your mind. Like he wants to leave a piece of himself with you, so you won't forget him.
🜼 ⋆ toji fucking your thighs cause he thinks you’re not ready for his big cock — vigrin!reader.
your thighs are slick from how long he’s been rubbing his cock between them.
he’s not even inside you.
toji’s huge body hovers over yours, sweat clinging to the dips of his torso as he slowly rocks forward, his cock heavy and flushed, caught tight in the heat of your thighs. he’s fucking into the soft seam between them, not your pussy, not yet. but still grunting like it’s the tightest thing he’s ever felt.
“fuck, baby,” he groans, one hand braced beside your head, the other gripping your thigh to keep you pinned open. “feel that? how hard you’ve got me?”
you nod, trembling, lips bitten raw from how long you’ve been whining. it’s hot, humiliating, how soaked your cunt is and how it is untouched, and desperate because he’s been teasing you like this for minutes now, maybe longer. long enough that you’re crying.
he looks down at the mess of you, eyes dragging slowly from the flushed swell of your tits to the twitch of your thighs to the glossy, needy cunt just inches from his cock. he licks his teeth.
“you want it, huh?” his voice drops, all rough and sweet like he’s teasing a scared little thing. “want this cock inside that pretty pussy?”
“yes,” you whisper. “please.”
his mouth curves. but he doesn’t move to fuck you.
instead, he presses in deeper between your thighs, grinding against your slick skin. the fat head of his cock kisses the edge of your folds, then slides up again too big, too slow until you’re whining, hips lifting to chase him. toji presses you down with a growl.
“no, sweetheart. not yet, she’s not ready.”
you blink up at him, flushed and confused. “she?”
he hums, eyes locked on your cunt like it’s the most important thing in the world.
“your pussy,” he says simply. “she’s too sweet. look at her.” his fingers trace the puffy lips, the glistening slit just barely open from how turned on you are. “fuckin’ drooling for me, and i haven’t even stretched her yet.”
you feel heat crawl down your neck, your face. “toji—”
“you think she can take this?” he cuts in, grinding his cock between your thighs again. “baby, i’d ruin her.”
and god help you, the way he says it like it’s reverent. like it’s true. like he wants it more than anything, but he’s holding back because he knows you’re not ready. not yet.
“you think i wanna hurt her?” he murmurs, lowering his face until he’s speaking right above your cunt. “nah. she’s too fuckin’ perfect.”
he kisses the inside of your thigh, then glances up at you with a half-lidded smirk. “gonna get her ready, though. soft and slow. ‘til she’s beggin’ for it. beggin’ for me.”
and then he speaks to your pussy. like it’s a girl he’s seducing.
“yeah, you hear that? you’re not ready yet, sweetheart,” he rasps, sliding two thick fingers through your slick folds without pushing in. “but i’m gonna fix that. stretch you open real good. make sure you can take all of me. every inch.”
you whimper.
his voice lowers, throatier now. “bet you’ll be tight. bet you’ll suck me in and not let go. i’ll have to fight to pull out.”
his cock twitches between your thighs, and he ruts forward once, grunting.
you can’t even think, you can’t breathe and yet he leans in again, brushing a thumb just above your clit.
“not yet,” he repeats, breath hot. “but soon, baby. real soon.”
satoru cries internally when you fall asleep without kissing him goodnight.
he stares at the ceiling like he’s in a drama. blankly. hollowly. arms still wrapped around you while you’re already snuggled into his chest, dead asleep, breathing even and soft and beautiful. and sure, you did murmur a little “goodnight” right after collapsing onto him like a starfish. but where was the kiss? the ritual? the goodnight smooch he looks forward to like clockwork?
he turns his face into your hair, sighs. dramatic. desolate. devastated.
“i can’t believe this,” he whispers to himself like you’ve committed a grave betrayal. “not even a forehead one? not even a little peck?”
listen. he gets it. technically. he’s just rearranged your insides like he was trying to make a map of his name inside your body. you were probably exhausted—barely able to get the word “goodnight” out, slurring it into his sweat-damp collarbone, limbs gone boneless against him. still, that doesn’t mean he won’t lay there feeling unloved. forgotten. discarded like a piece of tissue paper after valentine’s.
he scooches down just a bit to pout at your face. you’re drooling. adorable. utterly at peace. he watches the way your lashes flutter faintly, the tiniest smile tugging at your lips from some dream. but still.
he pokes your cheek gently, like maybe you’ll stir, apologize, and plant one on him. nothing. not even a twitch. he debates waking you up. just a little. just for a kiss. he wouldn’t mind a sleepy, mumbled one. he’d even settle for the kind you do half-asleep where you miss and it lands on his chin or his eyebrow.
he stares. waits. contemplates writing a will.
but then you make a little noise in your sleep, sigh his name, curl even tighter into his chest with your fingers bunching in his shirt like he’s your comfort and peace all at once.
okay. fine. he guesses he’ll forgive you. just this once.
but he buries his face into your neck, presses a kiss there anyway, soft and lingering. dramatic, yes, but quiet in its sincerity. you don’t wake, but your body shifts ever so slightly like it knows—like you always know.
(still. he’s waking up early to dramatically pout about it over breakfast. he’ll bring it up while you’re pouring coffee like it’s a national emergency. just so you know.)
★ asking roommate!sukuna if you can sleep with him because you’re scared
“no.”
the door slams in your face, grazing your nose ever so slightly. you don’t know what you were expecting when you knocked at 2am — maybe you weren’t thinking at all. the booming thunder outside was dizzying and your feet raced you out of your room and down the hall in record speed before you could even process the rattling of your bones.
you knock again. the door swings open. he is not happy.
sukuna’s sporting a scowl, piercings glinting from the hallway light, as he glares down at you. he’s shirtless and wearing boxers that hang low on his hips, revealing sharp angles and thick lines of ink. on any other occasion, you would have swooned to yourself but now’s not the time.
“please, s’kuna. i can’t sleep on my own like this.”
his brow quirks up. “and that’s my problem because?”
fuck.
he’s not listening. you can’t even blame him — it’s late and he’s already warned you he’s not the sweet type, that you shouldn’t treat him like a boyfriend, and he doesn’t cuddle so unless you’re up for spreading your legs, you should keep your distance. but you thought since you guys have been having dinner together, going out for errands, and even building inside jokes that he might feel inclined to do you a little favour.
“y-yeah, you’re right. sorry.” you jolt when the next rumble sends the apartment swaying. “oh! fuck. just…sorry. night.”
scrambling back, you clutch yourself tight, resenting the shudders running through you, like the storm has wormed its way in and is eating you from the inside.
“ah!”
two huge arms wrap around you, lifting you up, back, and tossing you onto a bed. you bounce once. twice. sukuna makes an exasperated noise and runs his hand through his hair. “you’re an annoying little shit. you better not snore or i’m kicking you out.”
then, he’s climbing in behind you, lying on his stomach, faced buried in his pillow and paying you no mind. you’re in his bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like you’ve been here before and will be again. it did occur to you that things might get awkward, but the way he’s not even the slightest bit tense and letting you hike up the covers over both of you even though he runs hot tells a different story.
minutes pass by, you still can’t sleep. the storm is suffocating. just as your eyes flutter shut, a flash of lightning breaches the blanket of his curtains and a fierce roaring follows shortly after, shaking the bed frame. shit.
“quit shivering. can’t fucking sleep when you’re on vibration mode.”
“sorry.”
he opens one eye to judge you. “you scared of a little thunder? embarrassing.”
“yeah.”
grunting, he mutters something, as if scolding himself and throws an arm around you. sukuna rolls you two over so he’s on his back and you’re on his chest. he’s warm and hardened with muscles, yet you melt into him as if he’s a teddy bear. he smells nice too.
you’re rendered confused, unable to reconcile his actions with the relevance to anything that had transpired in the last ten minutes. but…you hear it. or rather, you don’t. his body is shielding you from the sounds outside, distracting your senses with the feel of him, bare, against you. the thunders are washed away by the beating of something inside his chest.
quietly, you quip, feeling the need to cover up the heat rising to your cheeks, “i didn’t know you had a heart.”
sukuna scoffs. “yeah, neither. now shut up, don’t want to deal with your grumpy ass in the morning.”
maybe you are closer than you thought. though you won’t bring that up to him, knowing how defensive he gets. unspoken and subtle, you’re content with the way he shows his loyalty. it’s sincere and consistent and that’s all that matters.
so, you find yourself falling asleep dreaming of a fire engulfing you, drowning all else away, and laying a gentle kiss on your head.
no because satoru would 100% rest his chin on your shoulder and sway you side to side when you’re brushing your teeth together.
you’re both standing in front of the sink like a couple in a toothpaste commercial—except it’s nothing like that. because satoru won’t stay on his side. won’t stay still. he’s brushing his teeth and somehow also wrapped around you like an oversized koala.
he’s got his stupid long arms slung around your waist, chin on your shoulder, toothbrush dangling from his mouth while he sways you gently from left to right. you’re trying to focus on your brushing form. he is not.
he starts humming around the toothbrush like it's a kazoo. the vibrations tickle your neck. you elbow him. he takes it as encouragement. now he's full-on doing choreographed sways like you're ballroom dancing to the theme song of your shared toothpaste tube. the worst part? he’s smiling through it. foamy toothpaste grin and everything.
“mmnff luff you,” he mumbles into your shoulder.
“what?”
he lifts his head, leans in dramatically with paste still in his mouth: "i said: i love you, toothbrush edition."
you try to rinse your mouth. he tries to spit in the sink at the same time. it’s chaos. it’s routine. you think you might actually kill him someday and he’ll die grinning with mint breath and a heart full of stupid domestic joy. he’s such a clingy housecat of a boyfriend. affectionate and annoying in equal measure.
Satoru lives for your grumpy mornings, makes a whole game out of it, really. How long it takes for you to snap. The second you shuffle into the kitchen, barely picking your feet up, he’s leaning against the counter with a grin that’s way too bright for this hour. Or perhaps for a man who only got roughly three hours of sleep.
“Ohhh, good morning, grumpy butt,” he chirps, voice syrupy sweet and teasing. Those stupidly pretty baby blues twinkle with mischief, and his snow-white hair is all fluffed from sleep, a few strands sticking up where he clearly towel-dried it and called it a day.
You mumble something incoherent and plop into his arms anyway, letting yourself sink into his warmth. Pressing your face into his toned chest and taking a big whiff. He smells like laundry detergent and the faint hint of his cologne, clean, sweet, familiar.
“Awwww,” he coos, dropping into that obnoxious baby voice, arms caging you in as he sways you side to side, “it’s so hard being my sleepy little baby, huh? Sooo tough, such a hard little life you got.”
You groan into his chest, but that only earns you a cascade of kisses, first to your head, then your cheek, your temple, and your nose. Each one loud and wet on purpose.
“Mwah. Mwah. Mwah, oh? What was that? You hate me?” he gasps, planting another exaggerated kiss right on your frown. “You’re so mean in the mornings, baby. I’m delicate like a flower.”
His lashes flutter as he leans in closer, mock-pouting. You hate how good he looks like this, face still soft with sleep, lips plush and pink, that playful curve to his mouth, knowing exactly how far he can push you before you start biting.
He starts walking you backward with all those kisses, cornering you between his strong arms and the kitchen counter's edge until you’re stuck in his little trap. He looks down at you with a bright smile, arms looped lazily around your waist.
“You’re not even denying it,” he hums, voice low and sing-song as he kisses you again, softer this time, lips lingering on yours for a few mere seconds just to taunt again. “You're so cute when you’re cranky. Wanna hit me a little? Maybe a little bite? Go ahead. I can take it. Just don’t stop cuddling me after.”
“Oh relax, Toji’s been my old buddy since high school. You can trust him—he’ll take good care of her while we’re away”.
Meanwhile, that trusted old buddy had his entire face buried between your trembling thighs, his tongue flickering deep inside your creampied hole with his lips latched around your puffy entrance, making disgusting noises as he slurped at the thick, bitter load he had just pumped into you not even a minute ago—greedy for every drop of the mixed-up filth leaking out of your hole.
His teeth grazed your sensitive folds now and then, making you jolt with every swipe of his greedy tongue.
It was too much—too overstimulating and filthy, and your head was spinning. Your poor pussy was already sore and twitching, clenching pathetically around his thick tongue, but Toji wasn’t stopping. No, the older man insisted that he has to “clean you up”, and “take care of you properly”, just like your father expected him to when he called him to babysit you. How could he leave his old buddy's precious daughter filthy and messy like this? Especially for something he did—That would just be very irresponsible on his end.
You couldn’t even close your legs, his larger hands forcing them open, thumbs digging bruises into your shaking thighs to keep you wide open for him. His nose was smashing against your puffy clit, nuzzling it on purpose, inhaling through it loudly like he needed to breathe in your pussy to live.
“Ahh—fuck, n-no Toji, that's enough!” you sobbed, tears spilling over your flushed cheeks as you weakly pushed at his head, but it was like fighting against a wall—your strength was quite literally laughable against him. Your hands slapped and pushed at his hair, his forehead, anything you could reach but he didn’t budge an inch. Instead, he groaned against your cunt, the vibrations making your walls clamp down around nothing, drooling out more cum for him to slurp up.
He wasn’t cleaning you, he was feeding off of you. His tongue was ruthless, scraping and curling inside you, scooping up every mixture of cum you were drooling out and swallowing it down without shame.
Your clit throbbed painfully from the constant friction of his nose grinding and rubbing against it, his breaths coming out hot and heavy through his nostrils like he was fucking inhaling your pussy.
Sometimes you heard him snort—an awful, humiliating noise just to make you squirm more. It’s the filthiest thing you’ve ever experienced.
You squealed when you felt his tongue slide lower—dragging a nasty, wet stripe down over the messy cum pooling around your twitching asshole, lapping it up like some kind of depraved beast before plunging back into your leaking cunt, switching between both holes like he couldn't get enough of the filth dripping out of you.
His spit and your mixed cum were pooling under your ass now, soaking the couch and your thighs with every wet slurp and disgusting suckle.
You were soaked, filthy, and overstimulated beyond belief—and he was still fucking going.
“P—Please stop!” you hiccupped through your tears, clutching desperately at his thick, raven stands but all it did was make him groan deep against your slit, making it even worse.
Your legs are twitching in his iron grip. But the more you cried, the more he moaned against you like a perv, like your pathetic little sobs were turning him on even more.
When he finally pulled away, a thick string of drool and cum still connected his chin to your battered cunt, stringing between you like a strand of glue before snapping wetly onto your folds.
His face was a complete mess; nose, lips, and chin all glistening under the light, slicked up and dripping with your juices and his own. His scarred lips curled into a lazy smirk as he tilted his head, his emerald eyes dark and heavy-lidded as he stared up at your trembling body.
Toji wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing the filth across his face even more, before spitting lazily onto your clit just to make you twitch again.
He looked up at you through half-lidded eyes, cocky and mean, tongue dragging along his lips, savoring every taste he could gather, even going as far as licking along his scar with a low, satisfied grunt.
“Sorry baby”, he rasped, his voice laced with mocking sympathy. “Got’a bit carried away”.
“You’re so filthy”, he chuckled low, rubbing two fingers through your swollen folds, smearing the cum and spit around lazily like he was playing with it. “Bet my buddy would shit himself if he saw what a messy little cumdump his sweet daughter turned into”.
“Should’ve known you’d taste this fucking sweet,” he muttered, mostly to himself before leaning back down again—like he wasn’t even close to done with you yet. “Let Daddy take care of you some more, yeah?”.
And you were too fucked-out and humiliated to stop him.
୨୧ kento loves when you only wear panties to sleep.
somno. penetration. mlist
nanami would never admit it, not even to himself, but the sight of you in nothing but a skimpy panty and a tight tank top as you slept drove him wild.
the way the fabric hugged your curves, barely covering your skin, made his cock throb every night.
he prided himself on control, years of discipline, but you tested him in ways he couldn’t ignore
he tried to hold back, to be the gentleman he swore he was, but the urge was relentless.
“fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his hand hovering over your thigh.
he shouldn’t.
you were asleep, peaceful, unaware.
but his fingers grazed your skin, sliding up to your inner thigh, his touch lingered at your core, brushing the edge of your panties.
his cock twitched, aching as he pressed himself against your ass, the heat of your body making his restraint crumble.
with a shaky exhale, he tugged his sweatpants down just enough to free his hardened length, the tip already leaking.
he slid your panties aside, careful not to wake you, and positioned himself at your entrance. slowly, he pushed in, your tight warmth enveloping him.
you squirmed in your sleep, a soft whimper escaping your lips, but you didn’t wake.
nanami’s breath hitched, his hips moving in shallow thrusts, each one drawing a low groan from his throat .“goddamn it,” he whispered, his hand gripping your hip as he pressed deeper, your body responding instinctively, hips shifting slightly.
he was close already, the forbidden thrill of taking you like this while you slept, with a final, deep thrust, he came, spilling inside you with a muffled grunt, his body trembling as he held you close.
you stirred, a faint moan slipping out, but stayed asleep, your breathing steady.
nanami pulled out carefully, fixing your panties and pulling up his pants, his heart pounding with a mix of guilt and satisfaction.
he’d never admit how much he loved this, your teasing sleepwear, the way you unraveled his control, but as he watched you sleep, he knew he’d do it again.
Synopsis. Don’t think you can fit all of him? Funny.
Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, making him fit, size kínk, length + girth analysis, tummy buIges, marathons, unprotected, cúmplay, matíng presses, GOJO’S POWERS, true form Sukuna, dp, they’re BIG, first times (Choso, Ino), PÚSSYDRÚNK men, p talking, headIocks, creampíes, slight exhìbitionìsm (Nanami), pet names, swéaring.
A/N. Anatomy? Don’t know her…
♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - 8.96 inches x 5.40 inches
“T-Toji how many more mmm- inches left?”
“Two.”
“Oh-”
“Multiply that by three…h-heh.”
And the lips of your slit are all but bawling as Toji clings a palm onto your hips and tugs you down. No hesitation. No apology for the way he’s not even halfway stuffed, yet already stirring your poor insides completely.
“If ya can’t handle a big stretch then- hah- don’t talk outta her.” One of his roughened thumbs draws a horizontal line across your puffy core, stretchin’ your folds apart just enough to watch the way his wide, massive length was being devoured by you, sluggishly.
Half-rutting more n’ more while you shrilled out in needy whines, dazedly wondering whether he even can fit-
“Duh, silly girl.” Oh- did you just say that out loud? With a gruff pant, Toji’s slouching down enough that your hamstrings are screaming. Muttering hoarsely, “M’not Toji Fushiguro if I don’t make it fit, doll.”
He was serious.
Dead serious.
The only goal his overheated mind had been pondering repeatedly ever since you’d insisted that you could take all of his near-nine tonight.
Big. Staggering.
Nestled by breeder balls, his length curved deliciously right, covered in swollen veins and gifted with a plump mushroom tip so fat. Because Toji wasn’t just as red as a strawberry at his crown - he was just as swollen, too- turning into a pretty tannish gradient where his base was kissing your outer pussy.
And taking his five-inch width was already challenging, but now all he wanted to do was fold you with his beefy arms into the meanest mating press and bump his blushing cockhead against your entrance again and again and again until-
Fuck, it was such a tight fit.
A stiff set of fingers tilts your chin, snapping you out of your cockdrunk state. “C’mon, girl- no time to tap out. Spread those legs wiiide open n’ take it for me.”
“L-like this?” You’re whimpering, the sweat coating your fingerpads making them slip and slide underneath the flesh of your thighs. You could be holding yourself as far open as possible and it still wouldn’t be enough for Toji.
“Hmmm, almost.” He’s tittering, dark bangs tickling your forehead when your boyfriend leans dangerously in. He was so big - so muscular.
So strong that it only takes a single split-second for him to manhandle your trembly legs up n’ over his shoulder, interlocking your ankles behind his damp neck with a singular hand. At his mercy.
And then Toji’s pushing and pushing with his inhuman reflexes until your ass is damn near hovering off of the silky sheets, cock furiously hot and tugging on the softness of your hole with each pounding throb.
Hissing, “Aaaatta girl. Now, ya can fit it.”
Slipping one of his particularly proud veins past your inner ring of muscle and slithering it along your ridged sweet spots. “Now you can.” There’s an airy tone to Toji’s voice- almost…gone. Almost higher pitched and cracking as he starts up a vulgar tempo that makes your bedsprings ricket, “Now. Now.”
Toji’s just so damn lengthy that you swear you can almost feel him in your lungs. The globed curve of his tip swabbing past your pussylips and pressin’ deep into every nook and cranny-
“Oh p-please!” Your voice warbles, hips restlessly bucking off of the mattress. Grabbing onto the firm curves of his pecs, making you feel every rippling flex. “So big- so big so big s-so-”
And Toji tuts - tuts, half-lidded jade eyes rolling as he digs his capped knee into the side of your waist to hold you still. Leaning his weight down until you feel the bulge of his v-line scrape your pelvis, “S’all you hafta say?” He tilts his head, a slick line of drool beginning to trickle from the edge of his scarred lips, “M’only…”
Then he’s rovering his rude right hand - callused, somewhat trembling at the heat of your dripping pussy - over your tummy and pressing down, down, down.
Till the crowned edge of his thumb tap-tap-taps over where you could feel the outline of his spherical mushroom tip lining your walls, about halfway down your front. “-here.”
“S-still?” Breathless, the only thing your mind knows to do now is lurch off of your cushy pillows, slobbering down your chin in a thin glaze at how much he was giving another thrust and splitting you apart.
“Keh- whaddaya mean ‘still’?” With yet another roll of his eyes, Toji’s rudely slapping your teary cunt with the velvety underside of his shaft, rubbing his dark happy trail all raw on the top of your neglected clit just to hear you whine. “Open those haaaah- pretty fucking legs, lemme fit- just f-four more inches.”
And if you were in any better state of mind you’d be marvelling about the way simply squeezing your gooey wet walls made the infamous, big bad Toji Fushiguro crack. Stutter.
Gasping, “Take it- come back.” The vice-like hand still restraining your legs drags you down where the recoil of his hips was starting to push against you. Skin reddening near his tufts of unruly black, he titters. “Come back and take it- come back n’ lemme fill you all up- just a few more.”
“A few?” Mewling, his rugged palm racks up the pressure to feel him thick, pummeling cock sliiiide slimily all the way in. “Please-”
“Three- three inches more.” You shiver once the textured ends of his tongue flop outwards and lick up your salty tears, humming like they were the sweetest candy on his tastebuds. “Say it w’me now. Threeee more.”
“Th-three-” Sluuurp goes the way his fat fucking shaft nestles in, wide enough that it rubs against your tiniest fragile orifices.
“Louder.”
“Three.”
Grunting, Toji’s hiking up his own meaty thighs so that he can arch his sculptured spine further. “Two now.” Words slightly tinging on pussydrunken laughter like he was in disbelief. Sure, you’ve taken him before but never this deep. And the stretch made you so wet that your ass cheeks were sticking to the skin of his v-line like adhesive- “Two- two more n’ we already hafta fuuuuck- change the sheets.”
The knobbled thumb of his right hand reaches down until he’s pryin’ apart your swollen folds with a resounding squelch! Almost knuckle-deep- bucking- just to fit inside.
“Fuck- two- two!”
Toji blinks like his hazed brain cells had nearly forgotten your conversation just before, nearly as stupefied as you - your eyes whirling cartoonishly, mouth sticky with spit. You feel the friction of his coral pink divot just graze your cervix and it’s incredible.
“One.”
“One- o-one!”
Then there’s the loudest, rawest, most sinful plop! as Toji finally - finally - bottoms out. Stuffed snugly and sensually from the fringe of his pre-glazed tip to the circumference of his hilt.
You’re watching through partially-opened eyes in awe, wondering just how he managed to fit inside. Toji was just so damn big that every pulse of his winding veins was making your cunt quiver, girthy enough that your pussylips were stretched out until they were bulging.
“Heh- keep your eyes open, doll.” He’s gruffing out from above, finally catching his breath. Pushing down on that cute tummy bulge to remind you that he might’ve talked you through it - but this was still Toji. “The fun’s just getting started.”
♡ NANAMI KENTO - 10.45 inches x 4.82 inches
Nanami Kento wasn’t just big - he was big.
The tallest tan length patterned with slight veins, and a wide girth that made your eyes roll back stupidly. He was all topped with a neat mushroom tip that spanks down on your slivery slit and makes you drool.
Cocktip blushing a shy, pale pink as he streams out a helping of cute pre, grunting from the depths of his hoarse chest. “Shhh, my love. S’only the tip.”
“B-but you’re still so big, Kento.” You’re whining, fingers trembling where you were digging them helplessly onto the sides of his broad shoulders. And you couldn’t even make as much whiny noise as you wanted to because-
“Mr. Nanami, are the documents for the upcoming proposal okay? ”
Speaking into an ongoing early morning meeting on his phone, “I’ve approved them.” You can’t help the way the firm authority in Nanami’s deep bass makes your cunt grow wetter, biting back a moan as you straddle him in his home office chair. “Tell- hah! tell the team all’s well.”
“Thank you- and pardon me, but you sound a little…”
Instantly, Nanami latches a hand to grope your ass cheeks like he didn’t know whether he wants to pull you away or finally put himself out of this damn agony and bottom out.
Coughing softly, “I-I’m quite alright.”
He was anything but.
Your husband’s demeanor was caring - hastily muting himself on the call - but his cock was so mean. And that smug lil’ clench of your sopping walls gets you immediately punished with a rapid thrust.
“Fuh-fuuuuck! Ken—-”
“Talking so loud, darling.” Nanami purrs, forehead sticking to yours. And he runs his frigid wedding band across your clit to listen to the sweet way your pussy sings out a sluuuurp, “N’ so is she.”
Impatiently rutting your hips up n’ down, up n’ down, up n’ down until your pussy coats his shaft with goopy slick at the halfway mark. “Because I want…”
“Aww- feeling left out? D’you want me to finger you, hm?” Swirling his doughy fingerpad in circles that make your gummy cunt spark with white-hot bliss. Snagging just to the side of your softened walls so that he can try and make them bruise.
“J-just a bit- but-”
And he’s just so eager that you can feel his throbbing shaft pound against the roof of your heated core, four-inch girth so fat that gravity was making every bounce of yours lazily choke down his size. “Mhmm– anything- ngh. Anything for you, my wife.”
“I want more–” Your glossy lower lip juts out in a pout and you almost miss the way those very words make your gentle giant of a husband flinch. It makes him pant.
It makes him look up at you with eyes that are crazed- breathing out in such a strained way, “M-more.”
Nanami Kento’s voice cracks.
And you can only nod, “More. All of it.”
“All…” Maybe a minute passed, maybe an hour, maybe an eon- before Nanami tugs on the silky yellow of his tie and groans at the tightness. “Brace yourself, my love- this is gonna sting a little.”
Before you can even bat your teary lashes, Nanami has one arm tucked underneath your slick-sheened inner thigh, one more centimeter of his solid length shoveled deep. And one finger dancing over that ‘mute’ button on his phone, “So- what was that about meeting plans?”
“Kento, don’t you dare- oh!”
Only to shut you up with a sensual kiss of his weepy orifice down your pussy, he’s vulgarly stretching out your walls until your legs quake.
Sturdy office chair creaking at the force of his hips, his eyes are narrowed and predatory as he watches the way your tight hole expands all ‘round his glistening cock. Your elastic entrance bumpin’ into each one of his veiny inches.
Hypnotized. Sounding as dazed as ever as he speaks into the other end of the phone, “Huh? Oh, that- just my dear wife bringing me…” Nanami stares you dead into your adorable heart-eyes as he tucks his fat thumb past your pussylips and drenches himself. Just enough to pop! into his stern mouth- “-breakfast.”
“S-so mean.” You’ve never seen your husband talk like this, and you’ve never taken his long, ten-inch cock without hours n’ hours of preparation.
But right now, more than anything, you were…hungry.
And slobber drips down the edge of your chin when you throw your head back and impale yourself deeper on his cock. Shrilly whimpering, “Don’t know if I can-”
“Of course you can.” He interrupts in a booming voice, and for a second you don’t know whether he’s talking to you or his coworker on the phone. Only realizing once, with a hasty apology- “My wife needs ah- help with something.” Nanami’s tugging your bitten lips apart and poking his fingers inside.
Making you suck. Making you bite.
“A real gentleman- aren’t you, Mr. Nanami?”
“Mhm- gotta help out the hah- lady whenever I can.” He’s cooing at you. Phone now balanced comfily between his shoulder and his ear, Nanami’s tilting his head and boring down at you with such a sleazy, drunken grin. “Fuckin’ loooove helping my wife- oh, excuse my language.”
Oh god, he was getting so drunk. Tugging on your clit with one hand, and the other was holding you rigidly still so you can’t escape while he was sliiiiiding his cock inside with a sloppy drag.
Your teary eyes wandering to the back of your head, “W-will it-”
“It will.” Caressing the rovering ends of his two digits until you make the cutest gagging noises, he recites underneath his breath. “It has to.” Muted. Just for you to hear. “Inhale slowly- through your nose. Relax that pretty pussy f’me.”
“L-like this?”
“Slower.” Hiking a meaty thigh up once you sloppily follow along, “Keep your chest still- relax.” He hisses as the globes of your ass start to kiss his toned lap, damn near eleven plump inches being tunneled into you. “Exhale slowly. Again.” Head snapping between your half-lidded expression and below, “Again. Take it- fuck fuck fuck- take it.”
Curving the slightly left-leaning point of his tip to slither across your walls and skim your g-spot, and you can’t even move- you can’t even thrash around like you wanted to because Nanami’s pinning you down.
“Yeah- yeah m’here. I’m here and- and sooo fucking hard for you.” He’s swearing underneath his breath once he hits the back of your dewy pussy with a pap! of his large, swollen balls. “And so- fucking- big.”
When Nanami bottoms out it’s with a precise strike to your spongy cervix, so hard that your very bones seem to rattle upon impact.
And fuck- was it just as powerful for Nanami who holds his shaken breath and slouches till his glasses almost slide cleanly off, and stares at the bulging folds of your pussy all webbed with his pre, and doesn’t even realize that the phonecall had unmuted-
“Now now…” Higuruma’s raspy voice sounds out on speaker phone. “How about you n’ your lovely wife get this meeting on video call, Nanami? Maybe I can ah- help, too.”
♡ GETO SUGURU - 9.18 inches x 4.58 inches
Thwack! The glittery ends of Geto’s long, pale fingers are just drenched in all your sap and slick and he doesn’t think he’s ever smiled harder.
Tutting, with his head bent just low enough that his inky, curtaining locks trace your arched spine. “Yeahhh- she’s not fucking fittin’ me again- heh.” Snickering once just the slightest gyration of his bulging tip sends a torrent of cum from before dripping out of your pussy, “She agrees with me, too, gorgeous.”
“I feel so full.” You’re whining as your leader simply pulls you back and pliably rests a foot on your head. Geto Suguru already had you for hours, yet he wasn’t letting you go for a looong time.
And he wasn’t going anywhere without his reddened, gleaming tip emptying out yet another wave of milky precum inside of you. Watching as the sleek white coating glosses over your pussylips- his hazy gaze snaps from your cunt. To you. And back- “On second thought…”
“O-ohhh my god- ngh-”
“-why don’tcha take all of me again?”
You can’t help the way that your arms claw on the damp futon and try to drag your trembling body forwards - because Geto was just so big and trying to push himself deeper.
He was just as pretty as his long, flushed pink cock was. Balls delicate, shaft road and wide- with a singular strawberry pink vein that mazed along so sinfully.
You’re feeling the tender slit underneath his sparkly tip rub your insides raw. A few more solid inches of him throbbing behind, aching to just push you down and stuff you-
But he was feeling nice today.
“Ah ah- no running.” You damn near scream once he’s saddling the curves of his toned thighs behind your own, snug n’ warm. It’d almost be gentle if it wasn’t for the way that Geto was pinning you down to keep your restless hips in place, “Look at you drool. You’re already crying f’me from both ends?”
So cute- it was just too cute how you’re slurring from your hole just as much as your ajar maw.
And with another repeated swat to your teary slope, Geto tucks his bulbous head in place with your g-spot and watches you whine. Grunting, “Heh- wonder how much of a messy girl she’ll ngh- become when I put- my-” Vulgarly thrusting, so messy. “-entire cock in. Wouldn’t that be niiiice, gorgeous?”
He’s asking you questions that right now you were too fucked stupid to answer. Only able to nod and nod into the goopy puddle of spit you were leaking onto your pillow, “Yes- y-yeshh-”
“‘Yesh?’”
“I-I mean-”
Smoothly drifting a hand between your legs to squeeze your perky clit and make you let off a breathy cry. “Shhh- no need to waste your time hah- talking.” He’s immediately bringing up those very same cum-covered fingers to plop into your mouth, wetly, “Mmmm- tastes good, huh? Now you’re both stuffed.”
The flavor of salted caramel bursts onto your tastebuds and makes your folds quiver, stubbornly milking out even more of his creamy syrup. Clenching. Squeezing.
“Oh fuh-fuck.”
Your eyes snap open, words all groggy and muffled through his roaming fingerpads inside of your mouth. “Sugu, did you just-”
Pushing his foot deeper- “No- shut up.” Geto didn’t even know why his suave voice was shaking so much, he doesn’t even know why he underestimated just how needy his girl could get. Because when he wanted to fit his entire swollen, pumping cock in- it was a half-joke. Really. “M’okay- t-tooootally okay.”
He didn’t think your thoroughly filled, sploshing pussy would still be craving for his touch oh-so-deep inside. And he’s watching - spellbound, breathless - down at the way your pried-apart pussylips drool once you’re grinding down to devour his 4.5-inch width some more.
And Geto wasn’t a small guy - he was fucking big. Well over nine inches and pulsing from the sides with his prominent veins that scraped your slick insides just right, “Dity fuckin’ girl. If this tight hole hngh- wants it then just say it.”
“Wan’ it– please mmm m’so close.”
“Mhm- just like that.” Nodding along, and for a second Geto himself doesn’t know whether he’s talking to those pretty wailing whimpers of yours or of your pussy. Biting back wads of greedy saliva at the slurps sounding from below, “Tell me- tell me. S’not like th-this tight fucking cunt is affecting me like that. Not like I’m dying to…thrust.”
Mindless, half-measured bucks that wildly probe into your deepest, most tender spots. He’s even letting his free hand toy with the pearly droplets of syrup seeping out of you just to make space.
And Geto just keeps babbling on- “Not like I wanna always ngh- bend you over and ruin this pretty pussy.” He feels you getting wetter and in response pokes his muffling fingers into your hot mouth further- almost dragging you backwards after each recoil. “Not like I wanna fuck this hole until she’s all bruised f’me- fuck! She’s actually taking me.” Eyes wild, hips wilder. “She’s actually fitting me.”
“P-please! You’re in shoooo deep, Suguru- I’m gonna-” At this point you think you could feel him pushing his previous scorching, gluey webs of cum straight up to your throat.
And you could feel yourself cum.
White-hot, toes curling, eyes darting all the way to the back of your head until Geto could only hiss at the snug embrace of your pussy keeping him hostage. Fighting against the slight resistance-
“Not deep enough.”
Just in time, he snaps his feet off of your clammy scalp - for just a split-second, letting all the pounding blood rise to your head - before gathering you up in a raw, lecherous headlock. Tightening your throat with his beefy arm, you drool all over his forearm at the feeling of those natural muscles.
“Not like I always want you to fit- hah- aaall of it, gorgeous.” With a hot pant all feverish against your ear, and the sound of Geto’s baritone cracking, he’s snapping his hips so hard that he bottoms out.
You cry out at the tingles of your orgasm still coursing through your veins, completely at his mercy. “B-but you already ngh- did.”
“Oh…” Taking one look down at the way the globes of your ass were all nestled up to his raven happy trail, Geto gasps. Feverish. “Maybe I do.”
You were full.
So full that your soft, battered walls barely even had the space to clamp down once Geto swiftly turns the two of you over onto your backs in one, fluid motion. Easily dragging your boneless limbs into a full nelson-
“I-it’s actually in.” He stutters - stutters. Amethyst eyes widening, mouth sagging into a pretty oh! “All the way in- she actually fucking fit all of it, gorgeous.”
Thighs still twitching from your high, you slur, “N-ngh dunno if I’d be able to fit any more—”
“Awww.” Swiping away that bubble of spittle formulating at the edge of your lips, Geto thrusts his hips up so hard that your vision cracks with stars. Low, smooth in your ear- “But maybe you’ll fit my tentacle curse, gorgeous—”
♡ CHOSO KAMO - 8.30 inches x 3.99 inches
“O-oh!” You’re squeaking out in a way you’d certainly be embarrassed about if it was any moment but now. Head snapping down to where you were straddling Choso’s slim hips, “You just got even bigger, Cho—”
Fuck- fuck, why did you have to say it like that?
Because of course, that was going to make Choso Kamo’s ancient cursed powers go out of control all over again. Of course, every ounce of blood in his body was going to rush to his long, blushing cock - now more than rock-hard.
And Choso was already massively big.
Well over eight inches and throbbing furiously, his mushroomy tip always blushed the prettiest cherry-red. A few aching curves of his veins pressing down your puffy outer pussy, and his width was just perfect - not too wide, not too thin. Slipping n’ sliding inside, letting the geysering hole on top of his shaft dollop your cunt with creamy pre.
But his first time with you raw? Actually feeling the gushing waves of your slick splashin’ down his veiny cock had him rabid. Gasping, “Am I really that…big, baby?”
“Hmm—” Quite frankly you weren’t sure, and you were too damn stupid on the stretch of his prolonged cock to even think. Leaning down teasingly, “It’s very big, Choso.”
“B-but not too big, right?”
Cute bubblegum lips wobbling, Choso wraps his toned arms around your hips and gets you to grind out a pummeling bounce. Letting the globular curve of it whack against your dewy wet walls and watching as you drool, “You can fit it, right? Right?”
Your cunt lets off a resounding squeeelch as you start giving in to his tempo and gyrating your own. And Choso’s staggering length meant that he was gluing his scorching hot crown to your deepest insides without even trying.
You’re pretending to think, “Hmmmm, I dunno—”
“N-no-” He’s hiccuping, chestnut lashes starting to gleam with tears. “Nononono- you don’t hafta do any of the ngh- work, baby— I’ll make it fit.”
So panicked. So sloppy that each one of his rugged trusts was hitting every nook and cranny of your dripping pussy, once near the splotchy area of your g-spot, another near the roof of your cunt. Mazing down the tip-top of his pink shaft like a spotlight.
“Will you–?” You purr, “Promise?”
“Promise- promise promise.” And his hands rest upon either side of your waist to keep pulling you up n’ down with his inhuman strength. Softly whining when that meant he didn’t have a hand left to pull your face into a kiss- you give him one anyway.
The plush, puckered contact of your lips was enough to make him jolt like he’d just been electrified. Choso groans into your mouth and furrows his brows in desperation, “I-is it fitting, baby?”
And one look- one look is enough for him to throw his head back into the silken pillowcase with his dark eyes whirling. Dizzy. Hypnotized. Just covered in cursed energy that makes him pulse bigger-
“It is-”
“Mhm– it is.”
“Look. She’s actually taking in all of me–!” All of him, Choso doesn’t think he’s ever let his fat cock roam this far into your innards before. Chin hitting his pecs in haste to take a further look, “She’s really sucking me up and ah- I’m not ngh- ungrateful, baby, but…I she neeeeed her to take it…all.”
He’s blushing and red-hot by the time he’s admitting this out loud.
By now there’s only a few more of his solid inches left, and you’re leaning behind you to grab a fistful of his tight balls- oh-so-sensitive. Rolling the mountains of his palm over where he was most delicate, “All, huh?”
Who knew that would only make your sweet, ruined boyfriend arch his toned hips and rut- “Yes-” The planes of his cheeks fluttering with beaded tears, “”Yes, please- don’t close out.”
And just having you clench around him was keeping him shackled to your pert, pretty pussy. Urgently slamming his toned v-line up into yours in an attempt to keep bullying himself inside, he’d never felt this before- having you squeeze him snugly like this. The moment you start pushing him with your velvety slick walls made him only hold you close and push and push and push–
“D-don’t close this pretty pussy-” His free hand tugs on the sappy ends of your outer pussy, tuggin’ just so that his veiny cock finds its way inside. Pouting, he lets his reverse cursed energy run wiiild- “Let me put…it in…”
With your fingers carnally itching the skin of his ball sack, you hum—“You are, baby—”
“Heh- y-you called me baby.” He’s giggling to himself, the apples of his cheekbones turning bright red. He’s mesmerized - he’s dazed at the slight figure-eights you’re drawing out with your hips to fit him inside. And the moment the fat of your ass cheeks hits his hip bones with a loud slap! oh- “You…inside.”
Inside.
Inside.
And he’s cumming just as far deep, too.
The moment he’s all bottomed out, Choso’s voice hitches with a cracked whine once he’s spurting out a steady jetstream of syrupy white. Letting the honeyed droplets of it cling onto the sides of your goopy cunt- and he’s so embarrassed.
Fuck, he’s so embarrassed at the fact that he’s cumming so early.
But he can’t stop that primal urge within him that keeps bouncing his capped knees, sticking the globes of your ass against his meaty thighs with a layer of sheeny cum. You’d really, really managed to fit all of him - all his hot, ridged inches that tugged on the sides of your damp walls. Hitting your cervix dead-on.
“You took all of it-” He’s breathing out, raspy. Scalding hot seed dripping down your slit and rubbing all over your clit, “All- all. So this is what it feels like, I’m really inside, I’m really ngh- fucking you all the way.”
“Y-yes you are.” You have to fight to answer, the thrash of his split-ended shaft scouring across your walls until you were speechless. Mouth watering. Vision flashing. You brush your fingers through the strands of his bangs, “Happy, Cho?”
Purring up at you, “Of course, baby— B-but now that I’m inside can we try…” Half-lidded eyes almost trying to look away, almost shy. But the way he gives you a thrust to slosh around his stringy wads of cum says otherwise, “-a mating press?”
♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - 13.3 inches x 6.04 inches (each)
“K-Kuna—”
“B-b-brat.” It’s just so cute how that snarling grin he gives you is enough to make you bristle, as if you weren’t all sprawled out on the King’s lap and speared by one of his fat, thirteen-inch cocks. Both of his smug mouths snickering your way, “What? Whining n’ crying for two when ya can’t even take one. Humans always are so ambitious.”
And you? You were more than ambitious.
You’re just downright stuffed with the plump, honed crown of one of Sukuna’s lengths that it was stirring up whatever’s left of your brain cells. The weepy orifice of his tip swirlin’ a ribbon of milky pre as you squirm, and for the first time, you wanted more. “I wanna take both but I dunno if it’ll fit, Kuna.”
“Awww, my poor baby doesn’t know if it’ll heh- fit?” He’s cooing at you mockingly from above, one of Sukuna’s four hands nestling at your hips to give you a lil’ bounce. “Then I guess as king I hafta help with that, hm?”
“Yes- yes please-”
“Ah ah- but first…a kiss.”
Almost shocked at the plump pucker of his fanged lips, you slouch over where you were straddling his muscular waist. Him, all sprawled out on his gilded throne- and you, struggling to plant a kiss.
“There-” You murmur against his warm lips, a pout adjusting on your gaping maw as you wait expectantly.
But he only grins, knees hiking up to swat your ass with repeated grinds. “And here, too. Kiss me proper now.”
There.
He doesn’t even have to wait for the lecherous request to register inside your melty mind before his impatient, monstrous second mouth is unhinging ajar and saaaalivating all across your teary slit. The curled tendril of his pink tongue was just tickling where your hole was bulged, “Keh- humans are so easily embarrassed.” Two of his beefy arms glue to your sheeny inner thighs and streeetch you wide open, “Open up for ‘Kuna’, brat.”
Twisting your head down to watch- you don’t even know what your glassy eyes search for first.
The way that second, matching hard cock of his was bobbing with desperation or the way that his cursed mouth was greedy and salivating with every flick up the front of your hot core. Drooling, spitting, lapping up ounces of sap like it was sugar water-
“Ya can take that-” Another fat splosh of spittle, disappearing between your pussylips. “-ya can take me then.”
“Want it- want-” Huffing stubbornly, “Can handle both I ngh- promise.”
How cute…
Sukuna really can’t stop the way he departs a darkened bout of laughter, head tilted. “Why don’tcha suck this one up for me and ngh- prove it then.” And before you know it, he’s clawing his last hand down on your sweaty scalp and pushing down, down, down– “Bottoms up- or, more like bottom out.”
Fuck- you weren’t even given the split-second to snap at him for his silly lil’ joke at your expense, because the sheer stretch just had you so damn delirious.
And claiming that Sukuna was big was an understatement - well above thirteen inches, each. Both of his long, vertically-stacked cocks were so swollen and ready to be inside of you that they looked like they were about to explode.
Right from the slightly red edge of his bulging tips, to the circumference of his bases, all covered with a spattering of pink veins. Massive- and so was his pair of hard, tannish breeder balls, twitching with your every movement.
He was only about halfway in and the sleek ribbons of Sukuna’s precum were already hitting your thighs in splashes-
“Oi oi- don’t tell me yer too cockdrunk now.” His hips shift as he starts up a vulgar pace, hitting the back of your cervix with his pointed crownhead and he still wasn’t bottomed out. You wouldn’t be surprised if he would be hitting your damn throat soon. Grunting, “Take it. C’mon, little human.”
Sukuna was so wide that just a singular one of his girths had your mouth falling into the same ogling oh! “I-I am.”
“Heeeeh? How cute.” Darkish nails leave tiny bruises along your waist, lightly angling your tempo so that the zig-zagged line of one of his prominent veins hits your most favorite spots. “Faster now.”
Harder. Sloppier.
And you almost can’t, just so heady and stupid on the thump-thump-thump of his rounded globe squishing up your insides. So he can only lean backwards sexily and buck his waist further-
“Faster, brat, if you want mmm- both my cocks.”
Thighs trembling, lips wobbly, “B-but…”
“Aw, guess you forgot-” Mockingly, Sukuna’s stern lips fall into a tiny pout. And in the blink of an eye, where the edge of his tastebuds were slimily running down your folds, he’d suddenly replaced it with the smooth fringe of his second cock. “Seeee?” Rubbin’ it up n’ down in a way that was so sultry, “Wanna taste?”
Soon enough, you’re slobbering all down the cushions of his pecs. The utter raw stretch of it too much that his tensed front was covered in a shiny lacquer of your saliva, “I-I want…both.”
Ah, he’d never fucking admit it, but it was so endearing how hungry you were for his cocks. “Course ya do- you can take it.” The only thing driveling and greedier than you was that pretty pussy, “Faster.”
Just a few inches- just a few more inches more that Sukuna was helping you devour.
Well- teasing, “Harder, unless you don’t wan’ me ngh- hitting- here-” The sharp points of his fingernails tickle your tummy, right where the bumpy cylinder of his bulge was whacking. Right above your cervix. Your womb. “Twice.”
“Ohhh- mmm- ngh, there, Kuna.”
“God, she loves it like this, huh?” And it seems like both him and his other mouth cackle. Twin cock diamond-hard now, and just starting to snugly fit and inch in with a sluuuurp. “Can feel- hah- feel your womb, she’s begging for my seed, brat. Twice.”
You’re sobbing at this point, and his shiny tastebuds were lapping your tears up like candy. “Twice- p-please twice.”
Twice.
Twice twice twice- and it was driving Sukuna fucking wiiiild. The clench of your squirming thighs pushing his rummaging shafts together was insane, and that’s exactly what he blames for the way he grumbles out drunkenly- “Wanna give me an heir that badly- do you?”
“I-I do.”
Talking out of your cunt, for sure. Talking out of your oversatured mind, obviously.
But fuck- Ryomen Sukuna can’t stop himself from blurting out a low- “I love you.” And then a hissed pant of your name as he jumbles up your memory of that little confession with the entrance of his second cock, as well.
Dually splitting you open, you were so impaled on his throbbing girths that you almost miss the way he grins- “And now…” Slapping your slippery slit with the silken underside of his tongue, “S’my turn to have some fun.”
The way he whimpers.
♡ INO TAKUMA - 7.69 inches x 4.50 inches
“Big stretch- can you say that f’me, pretty? Biiig stretch?”
It was just so cute how your boyfriend’s cheeks were all innocent pink while he whispered the dirtiest questions in your ear. Rosy lips wobbling at just the sound of your pretty voice, “Mmm– it’s a very biiig stretch, Taku.”
“Well…n-not that big.” He can’t help but stutter out shyly, fighting the urge to dig his fingers into the strands of his chestnut bangs and pull down his ski mask still on. Hastily rutting, “You can still ngh- fit all of it, right, sweetness? Please?”
And shit- Ino might be the sweetest, but his cock was built so fucking mean.
He was a long seven inches and more, with two throbbing veins that ran down the side of his shaft and carved right along the tender spots of your walls. All flushed the same cherry-pink that his clammy, blushing cheeks were. And so fucking fat that your puffy core was having trouble keeping up with the rub-a-dub of his girth.
Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth while he’s planting half-ruts and grinds just to fit himself inside-
“Sweetness?”
“O-ohhh ngh-” You’re snapped back into your lewd reality the moment Ino’s impatiently dragging down your body with a hand at your throat. Dangerous. With the pierced edge of his mushroomy tip - that cold, sinful Prince Albert’s piercing - whacking your g-spot with a wet plop! “So good- so big, fuck!”
And maybe it was a blessing in disguise that the useless lil’ rubber of your condom had snagged the moment his pierced cockhead caught on it.
Because right now your gushing wet cunt was clenching around him to hold him hostage, and it was rendering Ino so damn pussydrunk that he was drooling. “M-maybe it’ll be easier in missionary, pretty-”
Times like this, you’re reminded just how much training your boyfriend has undergone. Because- before you know it- before you can even blink, Ino has his hands flying to bend your trembling thighs ‘round his slender waist.
Pliably pushed up until the caps of your knees hit your tits, until your scalp’s throwing back with a keen–“Mmm- feel so good- keep going, Taku–”
“Keep going.” He’s whispering to himself, eyes wide and barely blinking like he’s not even sure whether or not this was one of his wettest dreams. Here he had you all sprawled out and raw, letting off the cutest syrupy squelch! the moment he positions his bulging cockhead deeper and gives a little rut. “Keep- keep going.”
Whimpering, soon enough he can’t even handle the way that every driving force of his hips leaves your poor body recoiling.
Can’t handle the graze of your warm, wet walls making him feel like he was pulling out - the last thing he ever fucking wanted to do - and so he has to tighten his restraint on your neck and draaaag you back down after every jackammer just to keep himself sane.
“See? See?” His rugged whisper scorches your ear, Ino’s eyes half-lidded and wild. He squeezes your throat and snaps his hips down until the pale skin of his pelvis turns red, “S’not that big- nghhh, I can fit. C-can tooootally fit.”
Smugly batting your lashes- you were ruining him. “Yeah? Almost there?”
“Just like three or four more inches-” He groans, taking a sneaking glimpse at the rubbery resistance downwards. And his balls were delicate and flinching sensitively at every contact with your skin, “Just gotta get through this- ngh- tight fucking hole. That way I’ll fit.”
“And if you don-”
Cutting you off in panic, “Don’t even say s-such a haaah- thing.” He’s brushing his knobbly thumb along the base of your treacly pussy and watching in amazement as you open up even deeper for him with a sluuuurp. The excited throb of his shaft digging just against your most tender geysering orifices-
Ino’s making such a mess, such slippery wads of slick streaming between your folds and glistening in a ring across his base. He almost wants to pull down his dark black ski mask just so he won’t cum from the sight.
Harder, sloppier.
Not only was his cock pretty, it was so thick and probin’ along your every wet-sheened ridge and crevice. Making you scream just as much as your pussy was giving off slurping squelches!
You’re clawing down the veined expanse of his forearms, “S-so rough, Taku-”
“Oh- sorr-”
“I love it.”
Oh.
Oh, fuck.
That was more than enough for him, and before you know it - before even he knows it - he’s bucking with a mindless half-thrust that lets him bottom out. Rapid. Hard. Feral. That lets him cum.
Letting him crater the door to your womb with his orbed piercing, with a wide circular circumference that bruises you in while he stuffs you with white syrup.
The creamiest webs of seed overspill, and Ino can’t do anything but gape as his free hand moves before his mind to rover his fingers across your glossy entrance and push those hot springs in-
“Fuck- fuck. And I love you-” Setting your rapidly pulsing neck free to haul his eyesight partially closed by his mask. “This is what it feels like- this? H-how can it feel so…”
And you don’t even know how you manage to speak beyond the sparking fuzziness filling up your brain at the splosh of cum coating your innards like a glaze. Dripping just down the sides of your gluey-stuck thighs, “Awww- shy, Taku?”
He doesn’t answer- but his hips do all the talking.
Fucking the knots of cum in with rough, rugged drives that drench his tawny happy trial, Ino whimpers once you’re tugging his mask up and forcing him to look at you in all your fucked-out glory. Shit- so perfect n’ pretty that some primal part of him just has to mess it up by pulling out just the slightest few solid inches.
Creaming out opaque white layers upon layers of sap, Ino lets his pinkish shaft slap-slap-slap down on the puddle and hums. Eyes drunk, skin flushed, big fucking cock oh-so-painfully hard. And if he dares to let his plummy mushroom tip pull out and write out a cursive white T-A-K-U, well—“S-so…am I getting pregnant or are you, sweetness?”
♡ GOJO SATORU - 11.02 inches x 4.28 inches
“You’ve got it, you’ve ngh- got it-”
“Fuh-fuuuck, Satoru. But it’s so big-”
“You’ve got it.”
It’s been the exact same thing being repeated in panting moans over and over into the side of your ear. And Gojo can’t fucking stop that strained, broken mantra from leaving his lips every time he’s pushing you deeper into this mating press, and his cock deeper into you.
Fuck- you should’ve expected that the strongest would have a fat fucking length to match.
The only thing ruder than the way he was constantly pounding you into the soft, silken sheets was his size. Over eleven inches, according to him, the edge of his rose-red cocktip brushes all the way near your spongy cervix without even trying.
And he was oh-so-pretty, like every delicate vein running down the middle of his pinkish shaft was hand-carved to hit your every sweet spot.
Ridged, lightning bolted texture of his shaft making you see stars- you’re feeling Gojo’s swollen breeder balls brush against your thigh every time he knocks his ringed slit at the gooey roof of your pussy and just simply rubs it there, sensually.
“Getting sooo fucking wet-” He’s hissing into your open mouth, the tips of his gleaming white canines snagging against your lower lip as he smiles. “H-heh- you got it. You got it. Aaaalmost there, almost-”
“But there’s so much more, ngh- why are you this big?” You’re whimpering, the flats of your feet pushing against Gojo’s shoulders. And fuuuck- does he love the chase. Does he love that feeling of watching your boneless limbs flail when he’s folding you back in half with almost inhuman strength.
The doughy edges of his fingers itching for his black blindfold beside your night stand- “Hey now, sweetheart.”
And it takes two of your heady breaths - less than two seconds - for Gojo to curl the silky fabric of his blindfold around your ankles. To tie them together and firmly set them on his muscular back, “You wanted to see how the strongest hah- fucks. You’re gonna get it. And…heh-” Your dear boyfriend has the audacity to giggle - giggle downwards at the way his reddened cock was being devoured by your puffy core. “-wouldn’t you wanna take allll of the strongest, sweetheart? Pretty girl? My wife?”
“I get it I- fuck!” Breath catching when he’s hiking his pale thigh up to shovel yet another solid inch inside, pryin’ your bubblegum walls to the side with his bulbous tip. “J-just shut up.”
Who knew that would make him give you the first shred of mercy he’s shown in what felt like hours now.
Making him falter for a split-second, making him gasp. Making him blush- whispering out something airy, “Th-that almost made me cum.”
And shit- Gojo Satoru could not let himself cum before you did, no matter how much it felt like heaven was between your legs n’ you were just melting all around his size. Before he even knows what he’s doing, he’s letting his gaze coat with a few flickers of cursed energy.
Six Eyes on full throttle once he splays his massive palm on top of your cute tummy, “I’m still riiiiight-” The edge of his finger sizzles with power as he draws an invisible line, precisely where his blushing red crown was cratering a massive bruise inside of your tight cunt. Grinning, he taps- “-here. Got my fat fuckin’ cock right here.”
Mewling, your knees weaken once he’s reeling his slender hips back just enough to whack three repeated hits on that impromptu target he’d made. Fully well knowing it was inches from your g-spot.
“Fuck- just a bit higher, Toru–”
“Oh, sweetheart—” His half-lidded irises are so dilated that they almost look like hearts, lips twitched into a wobbly smile while he fucks you like he’s furious. “You’ve got six more inches to go- ngh! five.”
And shit- you can’t help the way you overtly ogle the flex of his toned biceps as he sexily reaches behind him. One set of fingers clenching ‘round that vice-like blindfold at your ankles to pull-pull-puuuull you down, the other buzzing with jujutsu and creepin’ to your clit to pinch.
He wouldn’t fit otherwise, bullying his way inside.
“H-heh…four now.”
Manhandling you, he was so strong that he’s making you feel like some sort of doll. Sending your ass cheeks ricocheting with every sopping wet spank of his pelvis, “Shit- you’re going in so deep-”
“Mhm- right down to your cute ngh- womb.” He could follow every slimy, mazing trail of his bulging shaft with his very own eyes. Snickering as he makes sure to graze the curling tendril of his veins right along your g-spot, “You like that- huh? Feels good?”
“Yes- mmm feels so good.”
Smooth voice purring in your ear, just the sound of it makes your skin bubble with goosebumps. “Imagine how good it’ll feel when I’m all inside. Just threeee more inches to go- two.”
Close.
Eleven inches was a lot to handle, and your poor dripping cunt felt like you were being stretched out to the max. You didn’t know whether it was his out-of-control reverse cursed technique or pure carnal desire that made you have the strength to start rutting down for more more more-
“Ohhh— what’s this?” Gojo raises his snowy brows and matches your sloppy tempo, scratchin’ his fuzzy white hair near the top of your clit every time he flicks it. “My girl wants more? Wants all eleven inches- s’a thick fucking cock, sweetheart—”
That was an understatement.
With over four inches of meaty plumpness, he was so wiiide with his girth that you’re sure you’re molding to his exact size. The entrance to your pussy quivering after every thrust, fast. Rapid. Mindless thrusts.
You’re gurgling out your answers, unable to even speak at that point. “I know I know-” Mouth still falling into a spit-slicked smile as he shows no signs of slowing down. Blinking tearily, “Still wan’ it all.”
And then it happens - all at once.
The lights in your bedroom shatter- and then, so do you. Because with a longing, lingering glide of Gojo’s barreling length vertically across your g-spot and down to your cervix, you’re cumming.
Mouth ajar, eyes scrunched close. Your own wave of bliss catches you so off-guard that you can do nothing but hold onto his Adonis-like shoulders for dear life and shrill–“Cum—ing. Fuck fuck fuck- cumming, Satoru-”
“I know-” And he sounds just as gone as you at this moment. “I saw it.” With his Six Eyes, even before you reached your high.
Not even realizing that the electricity had been destroyed in your bedroom - in the entirety of Tokyo, actually - not even realizing you two were plunged into complete darkness except for the bolts of blue lightning skittering down his skin. Setting his eyes aglow, air tightened.
Gojo groans—“And you f-fit all of me-” It took even him a few sultry seconds to register that he’d finally bottomed out.
Slapping and slapping the tender skin of his v-line right into the drenched space of your open thighs until he’s rubbed raw. Gojo was all inside and yet still trying to push himself even deeper, chasing the warmth of your dewy cunt- he bites back a whimper. “All of me- and it feels so…oh, I could just- fuck!”
One teensy clench of your sweet, saccharine walls.
All it takes before the strongest throws his head back and cums- timing each swat! of his thwacking balls right on staccato with your own peaks. It made him tilt his head down and giggle at the way your mouth only sagged open wider once you felt the sheer volume he was emptying out.
“You’ve got it-” He gasps into your popped eardrums, touch electric. The soft thumb rolling over your clit swiftly decides to crawl down n’ start plugging your drooling orifice with his wads of white. “You’ve hah- got it. You’ve got it- you’ve got it. Isn’t this the ngh- biiiigest fucking cock you’ve ever seen–?”
“F-fuck, Toru- yes! But what are you…” Briefly, the hand looped around your ankles claws at your clammy crown and moves your head to stupidly nod.
All the while, Gojo’s simply stirrin’ his shaft in circular motions inside of your velvety walls to touch every nook and cranny with his creamy cum. Teasingly announcing, “Oh yes it is- yes it is–”
Looking almost satisfied with the way you’re all fucked out and still shaking prettily from the ordeal- that is, at least, before a sudden idea glints behind his half-lidded sapphire eyes.
“I wonder if it’ll be- heh- even bigger if I use limitless, sweetheart”
kento had been relentless his attention fixated on the way your back arched beneath him, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, pulling him closer with every thrust.
“more, kento!” you gasped, your voice a desperate plea as your nails dug into his broad shoulders, his response was immediate, a low groan rumbling from his chest as he drove into you harder, his movements precise but forceful, each one sending a jolt through your body.
his hands gripped the headboard for leverage, his knuckles whitening as the wood creaked under the pressure, the rhythmic slamming of the headboard against the wall echoed in the room, a testament to his unyielding pace.
“careful what you ask for,” he murmured voice low and gravelly, laced with that dry edge of control he always clung to, even now.
his sharp eyes flicked down to meet yours, a glint of hunger. “you’re making it hard to hold back.”
“then don’t,” you shot back breathless but defiant, your hips rolling to meet his thrusts, his lips twitched, not quite a smirk but close enough to hint at the fire you were stoking in him.
nanami grunted the sound almost primal, and tightened his grip on the headboard, the force of his movements intensified, each thrust deliberate, calculated to push you both closer to the edge.
but then, with a sharp crack, the bed lurched beneath you, the frame gave way, one side collapsing and tilting the mattress at an awkward angle.
you yelped in surprise, your body sliding slightly, but nanami froze, his chest heaving as he registered what had happened.
“shit—honey, i—” he started, his voice clipped with a rare edge of embarrassment, his hands were still braced on the headboard, his body hovering over yours, and despite the mishap, he hadn’t pulled away.
his length remained buried inside you, a steady presence, he glanced at the broken bedframe, his jaw tightening as if mentally calculating the cost of repairs already.
“i didn’t mean to break the damn thing.” you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling up despite the heat still coursing through you.
“kento, it’s fine,” you said, your voice teasing as you reached up to touch his face, guiding his gaze back to you. “you think i care about the bed right now?” his eyes met yours, you whimpered softly, bucking your hips against him, a silent plea to keep going.
that was all it took, yis expression shifted, the stoic mask slipping as something fiercer took over. “alright,” he said,his voice low and resolute, like he was making a decision he’d already committed to.
“hold on to me.” before you could respond, nanami’s strong arms slid beneath you, lifting you with effortless strength, you gasped as he maneuvered you off the broken bed, your legs still wrapped around him, and lowered you to the floor.
you barely had time to register it before he was moving again, his thrusts resuming with a desperate edge, he braced one hand on the floor beside your head, the other gripping your hip to keep you in place.
“kento,” you moaned your voice trembling as he set a punishing rhythm, each movement driving him deeper.
“don’t stop—please.”
“wasn’t planning to,” he growled, his breath hot against your ear, his usual restraint was fraying, his focus entirely on you—on the way you clung to him, the way your body responded to every thrust.
“you wanted more, didn’t you? i'm giving it to you.” you nodded frantically, your hands scrambling for purchase on his shoulders, his back, anywhere you could reach.
“yes, yes, just like that,” you gasped your words barely coherent as the pleasure built to a fever pitch, nanami’s jaw clenched, his breathing ragged as he pushed himself harder, chasing his peak with a single minded intensity that was so quintessentially him.
somnophilia with xavier where he comes home from a mission and greets you by kissing your cunny. he just can't help it, you look so good laying there sleeping in his hoodie, with your legs slightly spread open. he can see how wet you got just for him. were you perhaps dreaming about him? he really hopes you were. lays down between your legs and pushes your wet panties to the side, his face up against your cunny. he speaks to her and tells her good morning/good night and that he's missed her, going mwah <3 .
xavier is so soft with your cunny, giving her such gentle sleepy kisses, nothing less than what you deserve from your favorite sleepy man. then xavier makes out with your cunny the same way he would with your lips, going slowly, making sure that each part of your cunny's been touched by his lips and tongue. then when you wake up, xavier gives you a soft peck on the lips then he goes back down and makes you cum. xavier's the type to mumble against your cunny, "mine", because it really was his!!
xavier makes you cum atleast 2 times with his lips and tongue alone, then he preps you with his long fingers, the whole two fingers inside your cunny with his thumb on your clit combo so that he could mark up your thighs with hickies. he's a possessive man and wants to make sure that he marks you everywhere. you're never hickey-less, there's always one on you somewhere. xavier's just as good with his fingers as he is with his tongue, maybe even more, because he's memorized your cunny by heart. he knows where your g-spot is and curls his fingers up to bully that soft and gummy spot. xavier knows how much you loved to be stretched out, and he knows that he can reach the deepest parts of your cunny with his fingers. it was like every part of xavier was made just to please you and to make you cum.
xavier knows how sleepy you get after cumming so he kisses you all over your face and whispers, "just go back to sleep, i'll take care of you" and then he lets you cockwarm him when you're still half asleep with the occasional soft thrust up. his cock feels so good, because not only is it really long, it has that curve to it that presses up right against your sweet spots. xavier lets his soft and breathy moans become your white noise. when you're asleep, he makes sure to be super gentle with you so that you wouldn't wake up again, or wake up fully at the very least, while he takes you. but if you do wake up while he's inside of you, he's so sweet with you <3 xavier keeps thrusting slowly while kissing you, only letting pleasure be the first thing you feel, and goes harder and faster whenever you seem super needy. he loves having access to his one and only cunny, and he loves cumming inside of you everyday and every night as well.
xavier makes sure that your cunny's pampered, kissed, and cared for everyday. what a dear for making his precious lady feel good 24/7 <333
A/N: not proofread, woke up horny and thinking about xavier
Masterlist | TWITTER
It wasn’t just the salt-and-pepper stubble or the slow, practiced way they carried themselves. it was the stillness. the grounded energy. the calm. like nothing could touch them. like they’d been through hell and came back clean, sharper for it.
nanami kento was the embodiment of that.
you weren’t supposed to end up in his bed. it started with drinks after a shared mission, a conversation that lingered longer than expected. you were tipsy. he wasn’t. and yet he watched you like you were a puzzle worth solving. carefully, patiently, without a single wasted glance.
you’d had sex before. enough to know what you liked. enough to know that most guys your age didn’t really care about what that was. they rushed. they fumbled. Some were sweet, but rarely satisfying. even the slightly older ones, 25, 26, still had the attention span of a squirrel and the emotional intelligence of a wet sock.
but nanami?
nanami touched you like he’d studied you. like he had time. like he didn’t need to prove anything because he already knew he could ruin you. and would. he took off your clothes like unwrapping a gift he’d waited patiently to open. every touch was intentional. every kiss a quiet promise.
you thought you were prepared.
you weren’t.
his mouth on your neck, your chest, between your legs. devastating. the kind of slow burn that made you forget your name, arching into him with a gasp so raw you almost felt embarrassed. until you looked up and saw the way he was watching you. focused. like he needed to see what he did to you..
you expected him to be good. he was older, refined, deliberate in everything he did. from the way he sipped his whiskey to the way he looked at you, like he could read every need you hadn’t voiced. But this?
this was beyond anything your imagination had dared to stretch toward.
you're on your back, legs spread and trembling over Nanami’s shoulders, body pinned to the mattress like you were meant to be there. like he built this exact moment out of patience and control and years of knowing exactly what he was doing.
his cock stretches you open with a slow, thick thrust that makes your spine arch off the bed. he’s not fast. not frantic. he moves like a man who knows he doesn’t have to rush, because you’re already falling apart under him.
“good girl,” he murmurs, voice low and steady, as if he’s rewarding you for every helpless sound you make. “you can take it. i’ve got you.”
and you do. you take him. inch by devastating inch. because you can’t not. he fills you in a way no one else ever has. deep. heavy. the kind of depth that forces a raw, gasping whine from your throat with every stroke.
your nails claw weakly at his forearms, the only parts of him you can reach in this position. he’s got you folded open, helpless, a mess of sweat and slick and trembling limbs beneath him. his hips grind slow, controlled, like he’s studying how each angle wrecks you.
“too much?” he asks, and it’s maddening how composed he sounds while you’re unraveling like silk in his hands.
you try to answer, but nothing comes out but a high-pitched, wrecked little moan. your head tilts back. eyes flutter shut. brain static.
he leans in closer, the weight of him pressing into you deliciously, lips grazing your jaw.
“words, sweetheart.”
you manage a shaky, whined: “don’t stop. please. don’t stop.”
his lips curve into the faintest smirk against your cheek, and suddenly his thrusts get deeper. not harder. not faster. just…more intentional. perfectly timed to make you feel every ridge, every drag of him against that sensitive spot inside you that makes your thighs shake.
your vision goes blurry. your mouth drops open in a silent gasp.
And then it happens:
Your brain short-circuits.
everything goes white-hot, your body locking around him with a desperate cry you barely hear. your climax rips through you with a sharp, clenching heat that leaves you breathless and boneless, twitching beneath him as he fucks you through it with devastating care.
“beautiful,” he breathes, watching you crumble.
you’re too far gone to even feel embarrassed at how wrecked you sound. you’re crying a little overstimulated, completely taken, the term “fucked dumb” no longer a meme, but a diagnosis.
he slows down. pulls out just enough to let you breathe, but not leave. his hands slide down your thighs, soothing, grounding.
and then, without warning, he’s back inside you. slower this time. softer. but it still hurts, in the way pleasure hurts when you’ve already come once and your nerves are still singing. you whimper, and he kisses your shoulder.
“i know, i know,” he whispers. “just one more. you can do one more.”
you don't know if you're nodding or crying, but it doesn’t matter. he keeps praising you, guiding you back to that high again with practiced care and relentless control. and when you finally collapse beneath him, thighs shaking, tears wet on your cheeks, he kisses you like you’re something fragile he’s honored to break.
he doesn’t leave right after.
he wraps you in a warm, damp towel and carries you to the bath. cleans you gently. makes you tea. sits beside you as your body catches up with your soul.
and when he says, “you’re safe,” you believe him.
and you realized then: you’d never be able to go back.
how could you? to twenty-something-year-old men who needed validation, who didn’t know what to do with a woman who needed to be held, not just touched? who didn’t understand the ache that came from deeper wounds. wounds that wanted comfort, not conquest?
nanami wasn’t just good in bed.
he understood. he moved with restraint, with precision. the kind of man who didn’t need to be loud to leave a mark.
you looked up at him. his calm, unreadable expression softened only by the way his thumb brushed over your hip. and it hit you:
A/N: i have exams soon so i have lots of ideas to write so i'm posting as much as i can rn 😭😭 also these contain some nsfw
♡—————♡—————♡—————♡—————♡—————♡
older boyfriend!nanami who always adjusts his pace to match yours. whether you're walking down a busy street or folding laundry side by side. He’s not rushing anywhere when he's with you. Being present with you is the point.
older boyfriend!nanami who folds your laundry exactly the way you like it. even your silly socks. even your oversized tshirts. he’s meticulous and thoughtful, and you didn’t even ask him to do it.
older boyfriend!nanami who keeps track of the smallest details: how you take your tea, what skincare products you’re running low on, that one book you said you wanted but never bought. He doesn’t announce it. You just find things quietly replaced or added to your shelf.
older boyfriend!nanami who doesn’t mind being teased for being a little bit of an old man. You’ll call him grandpa for drinking herbal tea before bed or sighing when he sits down, and he’ll just raise an eyebrow and say, “And yet you still insist on keeping me around.”
older boyfriend!nanami who keeps one of your hair ties around his wrist even though his hair is short. says it’s “just in case,” but you’ve never actually seen him use it. You catch him playing with it absentmindedly during meetings.
older boyfriend!nanami who calls you “darling” when he’s tired and his guard is down. It slips out like second nature; warm, low, reverent.
older boyfriend!nanami who always makes sure you’re walking on the inside of the sidewalk. It’s instinctive, not performative. If you switch sides by accident, he’ll gently guide you back with a hand on your lower back, no need to comment on it.
older boyfriend!nanami who sends you articles and short stories during his lunch break that “reminded me of you” sometimes it’s thoughtful, sometimes it’s hilarious, but every time it’s his way of saying I’m thinking about you.
older boyfriend!nanami who reads to you in bed when you’re too tired to focus. voice low and steady, thumb rubbing slow circles into your thigh as your head rests against his shoulder.
older boyfriend!nanami who doesn’t raise his voice when he’s upset. His anger shows in restraint. longer silences, slower breaths, the way he closes his eyes for a second like he’s trying to steady the weight of what he feels instead of letting it lash out.
older boyfriend!nanami who apologizes when he’s wrong. sincerely, without ego, and who listens when you’re upset. even if he’s tired. even if the day was long. You matter more.
older boyfriend!nanami who listens when you talk about your day. actually listens. Not just nodding along, but making thoughtful comments, remembering coworkers’ names, and offering advice only if you ask. Sometimes he just says, “That sounds exhausting. I’m proud of you for handling it.”
older boyfriend!nanami who takes his time undressing you, piece by piece, like every layer is a gift. You get the sense that he doesn’t see it as just getting you naked. it’s about revealing the parts of you you trust him with.
older boyfriend!nanami who is very aware of his size, not just in height but everywhere. He’s careful, unless you ask him not to be. And when you do? His restraint crumbles just a little. He’ll fuck you slow but deep, jaw tight, voice strained with want.
older boyfriend!nanami who is unexpectedly vocal in bed. low praise, soft groans, breathy murmurs of “just like that” and “you’re doing so well.” Always with a hand somewhere on your skin like he’s grounding himself through touch.
older boyfriend!nanami who isn’t into degrading or overly rough stuff, but dirty talk? Soft filth murmured into your ear while he’s deep inside you? Absolutely. “You’re taking me so well.” “You don’t even know what you do to me.” “I’d give you anything.”
older boyfriend!nanami who fucks you with his whole body, not just his hips. His arms around you. His lips on your skin. One large hand holding your jaw gently while he kisses you deep and slow like he’s reminding you (and himself) that you’re real, and his.
older boyfriend!nanami who prefers intimacy over performance. He’s not interested in theatrics. he wants to feel you, slow and deep, with your hands tangled in his, your breath on his neck, your voice in his ear.
older boyfriend!nanami who’s very composed most of the time, but the second you take control, straddle him, or kiss down his chest, that composure cracks. his voice gets breathier. his grip on your hips tightens. you see the restraint unraveling in real time.
older boyfriend!nanami who gets possessive in subtle, understated ways. he doesn’t say “you’re mine” in bed, he shows it in the way he touches you like you're sacred, the way his voice deepens when someone else flirts with you, the way he fucks you slow and deep like he’s leaving something behind.
older boyfriend!nanami who loves aftercare. loves wiping you down, pulling you into his arms, holding your hand against his chest. He’ll murmur, “You okay?” with his lips at your hairline, and doesn’t fall asleep until you do.
older boyfriend!nanami who takes his time during aftercare. he wipes you down with warm towels, gets you water, runs a bath if you're too sore. he massages your thighs, kisses your forehead, and holds you close with his arms tucked protectively around your waist.
Toji just grins when your voice wavers, his head falls back with a deep, mocking laugh that rumbles through his broad chest. He’s got your thighs folded back, hips pressed flushed against your ass, and his cock buries itself so deep you swear he’s kissing your cervix with that fat, leaking tip of his dick.
“What’s the matter, huh?” His big hands keep your legs pinned in place in his strong grip as his thumb brushes over the supple flesh of your thighs. “You were real mouthy earlier—talking back n’ giving yer old man all that attitude. Now look at ya. Can’t even get a word out, huh?”
You try to speak, try to tell him off, but it just comes out a pathetic whine, broken and high-pitched, and he scoffs with a low laugh while grinning down at you like you’re something pathetic.
“Aww, what’s that baby, Can’t think straight when your sloppy cunt’s stuffed full of cock?” He chuckles as his hips grinds down into your cunt—it’s slow but the sudden moving sensation forces your eyes to roll back in a drunken way, the stretch burning as your greedy hole embarrassingly clamps down around him like you’re trying to keep his cock there forever. “Bet it’s so hard to focus, huh? Poor baby’s too dumb to remember why you were throwing a fit”.
You bite your lip, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes, and Toji’s calloused thumb drags down to press against your clit. The sudden pressure has you gasping, back arching into his touch—greedy for more, and he just clicks his tongue while shaking his head.
“Yeahhh, see that’s what I thought. Can’t even remember, can ya? Dumb little thing, always bitching and moaning about something”. His thumb purposefully flickers over your puffy clit with every forceful thrust, each snap of his hips making you cry out and claw at his big forearms in an unforgiving way—as if it’s your get back but unfortunately, you knew Toji wouldn’t be affected by your sad little nail scratches anyways. “But when it comes down to it—” He leans in, teeth scraping over your jaw before biting down just enough to make you yelp. “—you just want Daddy to fuck you stupid”.
You choke on a moan, toes curling against his large back as he presses into you deeper, folding your legs back even tighter, practically bending you in half and crushing you with his heavy weight. Toji watches your face, all red and teary-eyed, lips bitten raw, and it makes his grin go feral.
“Look at ya. So fucking pathetic”. He looms over, lips brushing your ear, his voice a dark, rumbling growl. “Didn’t I tell ya not to pick fights you can’t win, baby? Now you’re just gonna take it like the little slut you are”.
Your pussy clenches hard around him from that, and he laughs again—a low wicked sound, shaking his head like he almost feels bad for you. Almost.
“Yeah, that’s right. Making a mess all over my cock ‘cause you love being put in your place”. His thrusts grow rougher, each one hammering his thick cock deep enough that you see stars. “Fuckin’ brat—gonna make sure you remember who’s in charge. Next time you’ll definitely think twice before running your mouth with me”.
pervy neighbor nanami is always watching you, and he loves it; you're his favorite piece of media to consume. he thinks you would look perfect on the big screen, where he could always watch you.
nanami loved it when you had sex extra loud, making it easier to hear through the wall. your moans, god, your moans, they were so achy, like you were begging and crying out for him and him only.
it's almost like he could taste you when you moaned like that, when you moaned for him. the stirring in his pants didn't make the yearning any better.
how is it that you tasted so sweet yet his tongue was nowhere near you? he could only imagine it until he had his grasp on you, until he could feel the warmth of your breath near his ear as you rode out your high and made yourself feel good.
nanami needed it; he needed you.
he couldn't contain it no matter how hard he tried. one glance at you in the empty apartment hallway was enough to make his mouth dry and his hands sweaty; his impulses were bad.
you were friendly even when you didn't have to be; that's one of the things he adored about you, so one more friendly touch to his shoulder while passing by would send his head in a frenzy.
"just... one touch."
that's all he wanted, all he needed. if he could get one more touch from you, he would be good, or maybe a piece of clothing...
... panties?
no, he couldn't do that to you, not when he already had five pairs, but one more couldn't hurt.
"ugh, fuck, yes... mmf." the way your panties were soft and wrapped around his leaky dick just right got him off better than he wanted to admit; it felt good.
one more pair couldn't hurt, right?
he just wanted to get under your thumb and be with you, and he was going to ensure it happened if it was the last thing he did.
SYNOPSIS ᯓ Gojo doesn't usually fuck his clients. This was supposed to be a normal massage. But with hands like that and a cock to match... "professional" was never on the table.
You’d driven past the place at least a hundred times.
It’s a stupidly sleek little building tucked perfectly between a Pilates studio and one of those overpriced juice bars. Like the kind with an obnoxiously chic and overly sensual neon sign that says TOUCH. White letters on smoked glass, all minimalist and judgy and expensive.
Every time you passed it you’d scoff.
“They probably charge three hundred fucking dollars just to rub your back and judge your pores.”
You’d even spat out an insult once like the building itself would crumble under the weight of your words, hitting the gas on your way home from work. Said it with the kind of righteous confidence that only comes from truly believing you’d never be that kind of girl. The kind who just… lets someone touch them like that. Oil-slicked and half-naked, moaning on some fake leather table while a stranger pretends it’s “therapeutic.”
Weird, isn’t it?
Definitely not for you.
And yet, here you are.
Saturday morning. Pillow hair, soul cracked like a boiled egg, lying in bed with your phone half on your face as you text your best friend in a fugue state,
you ever feel like your spine is just floating? help
You expected a “same.”
get a massage. i’m serious.
You snort. Riiight, a massage, huh?
You stare at the screen, eyes locked to the message like if you stared long enough it’d dial itself.
No amount of sarcasm or dignity can fix the way your shoulders feel like cement. Or the way you haven’t slept properly in weeks. Or the way your boss sent a “quick favor” email at precisely 11:48 PM last night, which you answered because your spine is already jelly and your will to live has already been transferred to a spreadsheet.
So… yeah.
Maybe you are that girl.
The bell attached to the door jingled as you step into the spa, and this is where you immediately felt out of place. The air smelled like eucalyptus and tears of the rich. The lighting was soft, flutey music passing through one ear and out the other, the woman at reception desk with the kind of smooth and poreless skin someone had when they bathed in rosewater.
You step up, feigning confidence like you hadn’t just Googled “what happens at a massage” just an hour ago.
“Hi, uh… I’d like to get a massage?”
She looked up from her computer with a smile too serene to be trusted. “Of course, what kind were you thinking? We offer Swedish, Thai, deep tissue, shiatsu, hot stone, aromatherapy-”
You nod slowly, brain buffering like YouTube trying to stream Paul vs. Tyson. Swedish? Do you get buttered up and rolled around like an IKEA meatball? You can’t ask that. You’d already committed the biggest crime by pretending you belonged here.
“Deep tissue,” you said, like you knew what the hell that meant.
She gave you a polite nod, tapping away on her keyboard. “Great choice. One of our more intense options. How long would you like the session? Sixty or ninety minutes?”
“Um… sixty’s good,” which is actually code for: I have no idea what I’m doing and I’m more scared of farting if you press too hard on my spine.
“Perfect,” she chirped. “The massage therapist will discuss pricing with you. You can take a seat, they’ll call you back shortly.”
You stepped aside, sitting on the impossibly soft couch in a sack of second-guessing. Of course there was a candle named something you can’t pronounce. And of course there’s a small framed sign on the coffee table reading: Relaxation is a journey, not a destination.
Just as you begin contemplating how to fake an emergency bolt, an intrusive thought crossing your mind to stand up and scream that you had a fucking bomb, a calm voice called your name.
You stood up, maybe way too quickly, meeting the eyes of a woman smiling at you with a clipboard in hand.
Thank god. A woman. The anxiety deflated from your shoulders. You didn’t really consider the possibility of a male masseuse until now, but the idea of some beefcake oiled up and kneading your thigh was not something you emotionally prepared for.
“This way,” she gestured for you to follow her down a hallway lined with softly glowing wall sconces and the sound of babbling water. You’d never felt so simultaneously underdressed and overscheduled.
She opened a door and motioned you inside. “You can undress to your comfort level and lie down under the towel, face down. I’ll let your massage therapist know you’re ready.”
“Towel?” you echo, glancing around. On the table sat a singular, small, pathetic white towel. It looked like something you’d pat a cat dry with, and you didn’t know if you expected a beach towel or a blanket.
Still, you nodded like a champ.
There you stood, alone after she exited and shut the door behind her. Unsure of how much was too much as you undressed. Were you supposed to keep your underwear on? Take it off? Would that be weird? Shit, what was the social etiquette here? It felt wrong to Google it, like the masseuse would walk in on you hunched over your phone naked like a caveman discovering the world wide web for the first time.
Eventually, you compromised by only keeping your underwear on and sliding under the towel, if you can even call it that. It barely covered your ass, and if you breathed wrong a cheek was gonna peek.
You lie face down, pressing your face into the weird little donut hole in the massage table. Every attempt at relaxation was a fail, your body as stiff as a mannequin.
The door creaked open, a voice drifted through the air all too low and smooth, way too sexy for this situation.
“Good evening,” he said.
Wait.
Waitwaitwaitwaitwaitwait.
You lift your head just a fraction, seeing a tall man stepping into the dimly lit room. White uniform shirt rolled to the elbows. Forearms like Greek sculpture. Messy white hair. A face so hot you swore you could hear angels filing HR complaints. His eyes were icy, meeting yours and curved with a smile.
“I’ll be your masseur tonight,” he said. “Name’s Satoru. Just let me know if anything feels uncomfortable.”
“Oh. Okay. Cool,” you say, voice cracking.
He chuckled softly, washing his hands in the corner, the sound of running water far too sensual. You press your face back into the donut, trying not to internally implode.
You asked for this, your brain whispered.
You chose deep tissue, whatever that meant.
You hear the flick of a small bottle opening. Something shifts behind you, the scent of cedarwood and vanilla blooming through the room like a secret. A soft, wet sound followed, and then-
Drip.
Oil hit the small of your back first. Warm, silky. You twitched without meaning to.
“Sorry,” his voice came playful and low, like he wasn’t sorry at all. “Didn’t mean to surprise you.”
You didn’t trust yourself to speak, only letting out a small squeak of laughter.
Then came his hands.
Large, warm, firm. Gentle as they pressed into your shoulders, thumbs digging slow, practiced circles into the knots near your spine. You can’t help the exhale escaping your lips, something between a sigh and a sound you’d only make in bed.
“This your first massage?” he asks, and damn him. Even his voice sounded like a smirk.
You coughed. “That obvious?”
“Just a bit,” he teased, hands now kneading into the ridge between your neck and shoulder. “You’re stiff. Tense.”
You laugh nervously. “It’s just work stuff. Desk job.”
“Hm,” he hummed like he already knew. Like he could read it in your body the moment his hands touched you. “I’ll start at your shoulders and work my way down. We’ll see if we can get you loosened up.”
You made another strangled sound of agreement in response, biting your lip.
Every stroke of his palm dragged warm oil over your skin, spreading heat along your back, down your spine. The pads of his thumbs pressed into the muscles beside your shoulder blades, firm but slow. It wasn’t just good, but shamefully so. Soothing, deep. Every time his thumbs pressed in, you felt your breath catch in your throat.
Focus, you told yourself. This is a professional, he does this all the time. And you’re not special, just some towel-clad client on a table meant for meat tenderizing.
But gods, his hands.
They were confident, skilled, moving in ways like they had the heaven’s permission to touch you. Maybe they did, each stroke leaving your skin burning in its wake. Your hips shifted slightly. Not on purpose. Well, maybe it was on purpose. You hated yourself for it.
He hadn’t said anything for a while, the room quiet aside from the ambient spa music and your stupid heartbeat echoing in your ears, your heart trying to crawl its way out from your ribcage. You focused on the feeling, the press of his digits into your shoulder. On the long drag of his hands gliding down, down, oil-slick and hot against your spine.
Shit, your brain was melting.
You felt his hands move again, slower now, gliding at your middle back. You couldn’t help but wonder if the towel slipped, didn’t dare look. You just stayed still, very still, praying for dignity while also very much wishing he’d go lower. His thumbs pushed into the small of your back, just on either side of your spine, and you exhaled, loudly.
You immediately regretted it. But he didn’t say anything. Just chuckled softly, barely a sound, and pressed deeper.
Gojo had given thousands of massages before. Hell, he’d worked on celebrities, models, athletes, all kinds of bodies sculpted and polished and worshiped. But this one? You? You weren’t some glammed-up goddess or an over-confident regular. You were shy, uncertain, nervous in the sweetest way, biting your lip like it’d save your soul.
And when he asked what was hurting, where it ached, you’d mentioned work like it explained everything.
He knew exactly what you needed.
His thumbs dragged slow over the curve of your back. You shifted slightly under him, just the tiniest movement, but not from pain. From heat. From something much, much lower. Gojo felt it, the tremor running through your muscles like a secret. The towel was still clinging to your hips, just barely, and he let his hands dip lower, enough to brush the top curve of your ass to see if you’d flinch.
And you didn’t.
Fuck.
He was breaking rules. His own rules. He didn’t do this. Never had. Not once. Not even with the flirty clients or the ones that offered more.
But then again, none of them were you.
Your skin was warm beneath his palms, your breath hitched in a rhythm that wasn’t just relaxation. He could hear it, feel it. And when his fingers barely slipped under the hem of that towel, just to knead the tight muscle at the base of your spine, he felt you tense.
Not with fear, but want.
He pressed deeper, just enough to test. And he almost groaned aloud when your hips lifted. As if it was an accident. But he knew better.
He loved the way you were sensitive for him, dragging his thumbs along the edge of the towel, fingertips brushing your perceptive skin that made his cock twitch.
He was throbbing against the zipper of his pants. He needed to stop.
But he wasn’t going to stop.
“First session’s free, by the way,” he murmured, just above your ear, his salacious tone a blessing to your ears. “House special.”
You made another soft sound and Gojo had to bite his cheek just to stop a deep groan threatening its way out from his lungs.
You thought you were in the clear when his hands left your back. For a moment, you considered breathing again. But then-
“Gonna move to your legs now,” he said, voice smooth and casual. “Starting from your feet.”
You couldn’t find it in you to protest. Your feet. The one part of your body that rejected human contact like a toddler would broccoli.
You tensed as he lifted your foot gentle, resting your ankle against a bolster. You took this opportunity to look. And he looked way too comfortable, crouched near your calves, rolling his sleeves up even more, his forearms, fuck, the veins, and warming more oil in his hands.
The first touch was light, gliding his fingers over your heel, your arch-
You flinched.
“Oh?” he laughed, glancing up. “Ticklish?”
You wanted to crawl inside the nearest candle holder and die.
“Maybe a little,” you mumbled, voice muffled.
“Noted,” he chuckled. “I’ll be gentle.”
And if Gojo Satoru wasn’t a liar before, he was now.
Because his thumbs rolled firm circles into your arches, sliding up the curve of your foot, down each toe like he fucking knew. You twitched again when he hit that spot near the ball of your foot.
He didn’t even pretend not to notice.
“Aw, you’re trying not to laugh.” His voice was warm. “Cute.”
You exhaled like a balloon deflating, face hot. “You’re evil.”
“Mmm,” he hummed, slowly dragging his palm up your sole to your ankle. “That’s one way to thank me.”
He didn’t linger much longer there, probably for your dignity which was already on life support, before he moved up, kneading your calf in strong, slow strokes. His hands wrapped around the muscle with confident pressure, and oh, it felt good.
All thoughts of embarrassment evaporating the moment his thumbs began sliding up your calf, massaging deep into the tissue. His touch slowed as he moved higher, now smoothing hot oil into the back of your knee.
Then he moved to your other leg. Same path. Foot, ankle, calf. All familiar but different. Like he was trying to memorize you. And this time his hands went slower, savoring the goosebumps prickling your skin as his hands moved higher, thumbs digging deeper. And when he reached the back of your thigh, right where the towel barely covered, you felt it.
The hesitation. The pause. The line of professionalism being toed.
And then crossed.
His hands never stopped moving, but his thumbs dragged slower, brushing up the back of your thigh and letting his touch linger along the soft skin there. His touch was light, too light to be considered a deep tissue massage.
“Still doing okay?” he asked, voice low.
You could only nod.
“Good,” he murmured. “You’re very responsive.”
Was this normal massage talk?
No, it couldn’t be. But you didn’t dare respond, didn’t want to stop him, even as your breath hitched and thighs threatened to instinctively press together.
Gojo’s hands stayed high on your thighs. One thumb circled the outside of your thigh.
“You’ve got tension here too,” he remarked, and this time, it wasn’t professional at all.
Your hips jolted.
“Sensitive?” he asked, almost a whisper.
You wanted to say something, maybe yes, maybe God, please don’t stop, but all that came out was a hum, shaky as his fingers gripped your thigh tighter.
“Don’t worry,” his voice silk-soft and soaked in pure heat. “I’ll take care of it.”
You didn’t even know he shifted until his voice came too close to your ear, just a low murmur.
“I’m gonna remove the towel now. That okay?”
You’re too far gone, just nodding.
“Need you to say it for me,” his voice is gentle.
“Yes,” you swallow, voice barely above a whisper.
He grips the towel, slow as sin, dragging it off your spine and letting it peel off you like he’s unwrapping something expensive. His fingers graze, not enough to claim but just enough to tease. You’re face-down, so you don’t see it. But he’s squinting, biting back a groan, cock already stirring and probably dripping.
He oils up again, slick and warm, spreading his palms across your ass with expert precision.
“Just breathe. This’ll help with tension in your glutes.”
Glutes, he says it like a medical term. You almost believe he’s just being good at his job, except his hands are kneading deeper, practically stroking the plushy fat of your ass.
His hips subtly press against the table, trying to relieve the throb without making a sound. His jaw is slack, eyes hooded, and he’s already sweating. He’s circling your ass with the heel of his palm, eyed glued to were your thighs part ever-so-slightly, revealing the slightest sliver of wet lace. His mouth waters.
His thumbs brush the hem of your panties, it’s innocent at first. But then he does it again, lingering.
You can almost feel the air shift.
Something about the way he touches you makes your skin buzz. He hasn’t said anything… too off yet, but the drag of his fingers along your thighs, the brush against the edge of your panties, you’re beginning to think it’s not exactly on the menu at most spas.
“Gonna take these off too. Helps me reach deeper tissue,” his finger hooks just teasingly into the hem at your hips.
You know it’s a lie. It has to be. But you nod.
And again, he waits.
“Say it, sweetheart.”
“Yes,” you exhale, heartbeat in your ears.
Then he hooks only his thumbs into your panties, slow, like it’s a favor. You lift your hips slightly so he can pull them down, and he takes his time. His thumbs caress you as he drags them down to your knees, ankles, then off completely.
And now you’re bare. Naked. Exposed under his hands and eyes, no doubt dripping from tension and need alone.
The only sound in the room is the soft roll of incense smoke, faint music, and the slick shhhhhkkk of oil between his palms to start again, skin to skin.
He shifts, thumbs dipping lower and palms kneading the tops of your thighs. It’s almost too much, you want to move, clench your legs shut, but you don’t. You stay soft, pliant, open.
And he watches. Every flutter of your muscles. Every twitch. The faintest glisten where your thighs part.
This was no longer routine.
So wet already. You poor thing probably didn’t even mean to be.
He watches your hips shift when he gets close, the way your toes twitch as his thumbs drag sinfully along your inner thighs. It’s like you’re desperate and embarrassed all at once. And yet, you obeyed him. And he loved every second of it.
You’re so pure, so sweet, so filthy for him. Not a single complaint. No hesitation.
Glutes soft and flushed from the heat of his palms. Inner thighs slicked with oil. Breathing shallow and shaky. And his favorite part, your slit tucked between trembling legs, glistening with more than just oil.
He shifts again, subtly dragging his cock against the edge of the massage table. Hard, throbbing, and unforgiving.
“You’re responding really well,” he murmurs, the heel of his palms pushing into your inner thighs enough to part you only so he can see more.
And you’re going insane.
His hands on your thighs, voice in your ear. Every pass of his palms leaving your nerves sparking, and it’s taking everything in you not to freely moan when his knuckles drag just too close.
When your legs twitch again, of course he notices. “Don’t worry. You’re doing great. Just let me take care of you.”
But then his sinful thumbs sweep higher. Still outside, not touching where you need him most. But close. So, so close. And you can’t help the gasp escaping you.
And that’s when he finally brushes his fingers along your folds, light, feather-soft, as if he’s checking something.
Your whole body jerks. His voice lowers a few octaves.
“You’re soaked.”
A beat of silence.
“Want me to keep going?”
Again, you nod.
“Words, sweetheart.
You swallow, face burning and contorting where it’s nestled in the headrest. “Yes… please.”
“Good girl,” his chuckle is low and so smug.
You’re so responsive for him, every time his fingers tease your slick little slit, your thighs tremble like they’re fighting not to squeeze shut.
You don’t even realize the slightest rock of your hips, silently begging for more like you’re chasing his fingers.
He palms your ass again, spreading you open as he traces a single digit up and down. Folds puffy and hot, dripping onto the table, clit twitching like it knows what’s coming.
“You said this was your first massage, right?” he says, dragging a single finger deeper between your folds. “But you’re begging for attention.”
Then his thumb gently presses against your clit, unmoving but giving you the pressure you oh so desperately needed.
“Think you might’ve been made for this.”
You can’t breathe, can’t think. All you know is his hands. The way they press into you, spreading your arousal and oil around as if it’s a divine ritual. The way his thumb circles your clit painstakingly slow, so patient.
You mewl, too far gone to be ashamed.
“Want the full package?” his question come velvet-smooth.
You blink, dazed. “…The what?”
His thumb pressed in just a little harder, your body tensing. “Y’know, the extra. Let me take care of everything.”
“Y-yeah…” your voice is barely audible, but it’s all he needs.
He smiles, the thick curl of anticipation mixing with the burning incense in the air, winding your spine as he murmurs your new nickname again:
“Good girl.”
It’s like this was always going to happen. Like he’s done this a hundred times before and you were just next in line, all dripping wet and none the wiser.
Then he’s palming you again, hands oiled with a fresh squirt as both hands slide over your skin. It’d be professional if it wasn’t for the way his thumbs spread you once again.
It’d be professional didn’t brush directly over your soaked folds, a low growl he lets out, low and restrained when he sees your cunt pulse for him.
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, dragging two fingers through your slick.
Then he dips two fingers inside you, slow and filthy as he immediately curls them right into that soft spot between your ridges that has you gasping into the table padding.
“God, you’re tight. Gonna have to open you up first, yeah?”
It’s as if it’s still part of the massage.
He fucks you slow with his fingers, his free hand moving to move ‘round and ‘round against your clit with his thumb. And fuck, he’s too skilled. Every filthy, wet stroke of his fingers has you whimpering, any semblance of professionalism lost by the sound of your whispers.
“So responsive,” he mutters almost to himself. “You’ll do anything I ask, won’t you?”
Then-
Smack.
Your body jolts, a sharp sting across your ass, the crack echoing through the room.
“Mm,” he hums, smoothing the reddened spot of his handprint like he’s checking the quality of his own work. “Pretty thing makes such pretty sounds.”
Another smack. You gasp.
“Flip over for me.”
His tone is easy, casual like he’s asking you to flip a page in a magazine. Your legs move before you, body fully glistening with oil and anticipation.
His face looks almost desperate. Sweat at his temples, white lashes fluttering over hooded eyes at burn. His lips are parted, flushed, bitten like he's been holding back from devouring you whole.
He's no longer the calm masseur from before, but a man on the edge of losing it.
Every inch of him thrumming with want, you can see it in the way his jaw flexes, the slight tremble in his fingers at his sides. His gaze drops between your legs, staying there like he's starving.
He wants this, wants you just as badly. Maybe worse.
And he sees you. Laid out like an offering, tits soft and heaving, thighs glistening, cunt spread and twitching, begging for his attention.
He lets out a low, heavy breath. “Fuck. Look at you.”
Then his hands are tracing down your thighs, hooking under your knees just to bring them to your chest.
And he goes in, no teasing or warning, just his hands spreading you wide, full mouth-to-pussy action.
His tongue slides over your clit like he’s starving. Moaning into you like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. It’s filthy, loud, wet, feral.
He laps at you like he wants to crawl into your skin and live there. His lips lock around your clit, tongue flicking fast and relentless, fingers digging into you.
Your hips buck instinctively. Your hands fly to his hair, fingers clutching his silvery strands as your legs twitch, toes curl.
He loves it. The desperate little grind of your hips, the wrecked moan slipping from your throat, the way you push his face impossibly deeper.
So he doubles down, dragging his tongue lower and fucking it into your hole with lewd precision, then pulls back just to suck at your clit like it’ll grant him immortality.
“You taste like heaven,” he groans, lost in a daze himself. “Sweet little thing, gonna cum all over my mouth, huh? So fucking wet. Bet you’ve been thinking about this.”
He flattens his tongue, grinding it against your clit, and you cry out, entire body jerking, thighs clenching around his head. But he doesn’t stop, if anything only groans, grinding his hips into the table like he’s getting off just on your taste.
You’re soaked. Senseless. A carnal desire to soak his face in your arousal.
And when you gasp his name, fingers tugging at his locks, body trembling-
“That’s it,” he purrs. “Cum for me, baby.”
You shatter. Completely. Fully. Back arching from the table, breath punched from your lungs, cunt clenching so hard around nothing it’s fucking cruel. He just stays there, tongue flicking, dragging out every last pulse of your orgasm until your legs go numb.
Your thighs are trembling around him, your cunt a swollen, slick mess, still twitching with aftershocks. You’re still moaning, fucked-out and blissed as he presses kisses to your inner thigh.
Fuck. He thinks you look perfect like this. Made to be ruined for him.
And he’s done being patient.
So he stands, unzipping his pants. His cock springs free, red, leaking, painfully hard. And shit, he’s big. A slight upward curve, a thick vein running along his thick, long length.
“Up,” he says, voice coaxing like he’s asking you to breathe.
Your legs wobble as you push yourself off the table, only for his hands to grip your waist and bend you right back over it. Your bare chest pressed to the cushiony surface, cheek against the towel.
“There you go,” he drags the thick head of his throbbing cock through your folds, smearing your slick across your lower lips and on his tip until it could drip off. “Gotta get all that tension out, yeah? Let me work those knots a little deeper.”
You walked in here all shy and tense, even spending twenty minutes willing yourself to open your car door. New client, first massage, all stiff shoulders and tight posture. Said your job had you aching. Said you needed relief.
And the first time he saw you, big eyes, nervous smile, a little stutter from your lips when he first touched your shoulders.
He knew exactly what you needed.
“First massage,” he breathes, lining his tip to your entrance.
Then he pushed in. Deep.
You choke on a moan. He’s so thick, splitting you open inch by inch, your walls struggling and stretching to take him. His hands dig into your waist, still warm with oil, just holding you savoring the moment he finally sinks all the way in.
“Fuck,” he groans, head tipping back. “That’s it- just like that- you were made for this.”
He pulls back, only until just the tip lay past your entrance, before slamming back in. And you jerk, fingers scrambling for purchase on the table.
Each stroke rocks through your spine. Your tits drag against the table, mouth hanging open, drool smearing the table. Your mind’s a blur, just the sound of skin slapping, Gojo’s breathy moans, and the obscene, wet noise of him slamming into you over and over and over.
“Say thank you,” he almost growls, snapping his hips up so deep your toes curl. “Say it.”
“T-thank you,” you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your skull.
Then, smack. A sharp slap to your ass, and you whine.
“For what?”
“F-fucking me- oh my god- for fucking me-”
“No,” he pants, rutting into you harder now, cock hitting that sweet spot so perfect it could make you squeal. “Say it right. Thank you for relieving my stress.”
“Thank you-” you cry out, broken and shaking. “Thank you for- mmh- relieving my stress.”
He leans over you, his hardened chest against your back, cock still pistoning in your soaked cunt. His mouth finds your neck, tongue dragging across your bare skin before he bites. Sucks. Marks you.
Another hickey. Then another.
You’re completely gone, every thrust having your eyes fluttering, your moans shameless, drool coating your lower face. Your walls flutter around him, squeezing his thick length more than you already were, clenching with every thrust, every filthy word.
His hips stutter, balls tightening as he pounds you into the table.
“So fucking tight,” he groans. “Gonna cum- fuck- gonna cum all over this pretty back.”
And he does. One last brutal thrust and he pulls out, cock twitching before spilling across your lower back in hot, thick ropes, painting your skin in streaks of white.
He watches it drip down your spine, chest heaving, cock still half-hard and still twitching from how hard you just milked him for all he’s worth.
“Goddamn,” he whispers, leaning down to admire his work. “You really were stressed, huh?”
Then he drags a hand up your spine, wiping his fingers through the mess he made, rubbing it into your skin like a filthy seal.
The air is thick with heat, sex, and you. His hand rubs sensual circles into your back.
“You good, sweetheart?” he brushes the hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear.
You nod, dazed, wrecked, legs still trembling. He leans in and presses a kiss to your lips. It’s soft, slow, tender in a way that almost startles you.
“First kiss,” he whispers against your lips.
Then he straightens, grabbing a warm towel from the side table. His hands are gentle as they wipe you down, cleaning you with a reverence that borders on obscene. He helps you stand straight, pressing another kiss to your temple, his big hands careful and supportive.
“So…” he starts, tapping his lip. “Same time next week?”
You can only stare, flushed and panting.
“No charge, obviously,” he adds, giving you a wink. “I’m invested in your health now.”
Of course you’re coming back. With a dick like that? With a mouth like that? You’d be stupid not to.
You shake your head, trying not to smile.
“Take your time, I’ll be outside.”
The door closes behind him with a soft click.
You sigh, dragging yourself over to the side table on shaky legs, slowly redressing like your soul wasn’t just rearranged. You grab your clothes, pulling your bra back on, then your shirt, then-
Your panties.
Your panties?
You check under the table. Beside it. In the towel pile.
Your brows shoot up, a slow, disbelieving laugh escapes your lips.
That smug thieving bastard.
He took them, slipping them into his pocket. You shake your head as you pull on your pants, cheeks still flushed, heart returning to a normal rate.
