[fukiouh]

[SOLVED] | nerdjo x reader

The first mistake you made was using Reddit to find a roommate. The second was moving in with him anyway. Satoru Gojo is a gorgeous man and a terminally online incel who will explain exactly why a nice guy like him can't get a girlfriend. When you decide to weaponize your hotness against his incel worldview, you expect to break him and his “alpha male" ideologies. You do not expect to spend a random evening getting your roommate's dick out of a stuck cock ring.

pairing: Gojo Satoru x reader

warnings: 18+ (mdni!!), explicit sexual content, afab!reader, modern AU, roommate AU, nerdjo, incel!gojo, virgin!gojo, oral (m and f receiving), piv, creampie, light degradation, praise kink, cum in hair, cum eating, cum-drunk, pussy-drunk, cock rings, fleshlights, improper use of hair tie, improper use of yogurt (accidentally ??), oil and fluids everywhere, it’s a bit disgusting, light choking, groping, big time copium from reader, secondhand embarrassment you’d die, reddit, incel stuff, crack treated seriously, fluff, smut, slow burn but the burn is just pure cringe

word count: 17k

The first mistake you made was using Reddit to find a roommate. Should’ve been a red flag, really. The second was agreeing to meet the guy in person.

You walked into the coffee shop, scanning the midday crowd for someone who matched the description — twenty-something, remote-employed, appreciates a quiet living environment. You were expecting a tired grad student, maybe. Or some tech guy in a Patagonia fleece. Something like that.

Instead, you found a gorgeous, gorgeous looking man. And you were confident it was him, since there were exactly two men present — him, and some grandpa having his afternoon caffeine fix.

And the guy was, objectively and objectifyingly speaking, probably the prettiest guy you had ever laid your eyes on. Way too tall, way too broad, the messy hair and the cute glasses adding the je ne sais quoi of the hot nerd aesthetic you were simply too weak for. Even hunched over his phone like that, he looked aggressively cute. But, let’s be honest, you weren't exactly against a cheeky roommates-to-lovers situation, if you catch my drift.

You stopped dead in your tracks. 

Oh no. Oh YES.

Your heart went thump thump thump! like crazy as you stood there, frozen between the door and the counter. Living with a man who looked like that was a direct threat to your peace. And his too, probably. You couldn't believe you had practically won a jackpot over freaking Reddit. And apparently Reddit was only full of weird people, as if. So you took a breath, adjusted your posture, and walked over.

But then the panic hit. Because someone who looked like that was probably bringing home a different girl every night. And you’d have to listen to the stupid Thump. Thump. Thump. of his bed through the thin drywall. Every single time.

Suck it and see, you never know, girl.

From his side of the table, Satoru had already run the numbers. His eyes tracked your movement the second you started walking over, assessing. You were cute, yes. Approachable hot, not intimidating hot. You didn’t look like the type who’d expect him to pay for everything or make fun of his personality. And most importantly — you had messaged him first on the housing thread.

That meant the dynamic was already set. You were practically already his. Why else would a girl willingly want to live with a man? The power balance was secured. Handled. Handed to him on a silver platter, just like all the podcasts had promised.

You slid into the booth across from him. "Satoru?"

"You're exactly two minutes and forty seconds late," Satoru announced, and you feared that wasn't a joke. He checked his phone screen. "Statistically speaking, women in their twenties are usually ten to fifteen minutes late to initial meetups to assert social dominance. Two minutes is almost negligible. I like the effort."

You stared at him. What the fuck. You hadn't even taken your jacket off yet.

"I got caught at a red light," you said slowly, furrowing your eyebrows and eyeing his hands. Why were they so big?

“Right. Variables.” Satoru nodded, looking way too serious about the whole thing. He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “So — I brought the lease agreement. As I mentioned, I have a 780 credit score and I want dishes done within twenty-four hours. To prevent breeding grounds for fruit flies.” He slid the keys across the table along with the papers, completely unprompted. “I assume you don’t have a problem with basic hygiene? You shouldn’t have—” his eyes dragged over you, slow and sleazy, “—judging by your appearance.”

You looked at the keys. Then at his stupidly pretty, already supremely annoying face.

Your brain was trying to throw up big red warning signs, but you really needed the space. It was cheap. Close to work. And you’d have to survive maybe a year or two before you could afford a one-bedroom on your own.

You go, girl.

“I’m clean,” you said, picking up the keys. You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to figure out exactly what brand of lunatic you were about to chain yourself to. “Listen. You’re not going to be weird, are you?”

Satoru tilted his head, genuinely confused. “Define weird.”

You bit your lip.

There went those “quick” two years of your life.

You already knew the answer. You already fucking knew. Time for some hard coping. Maybe this was just a phase. Maybe he’d snap out of it soon. Maybe he’d gone through a breakup and was just being salty. That was probably it.

And to be fair, the first few weeks weren’t actually that weird. You were getting to know each other, learning how to exist in the same space. It was quiet, even. You would’ve paid good money to keep it like that forever.

He mostly worked from his room, only came out for meals, did the dishes, and left you alone. He barely even talked to you, which should’ve been suspicious, but you chose to ignore it. You started to think maybe you’d read him wrong at the café. Maybe the breakup theory was right. Maybe he was just having a weird day.

But spoiler alert — you couldn’t have been more wrong.

Satoru had not gone through a bad breakup. You suspected he had never gone through any breakup at all ever. Once he got comfortable enough to drop the act, or perhaps as some calculated 4D chess move to trap you past the point of getting your deposit back, his true colors started showing.

Satoru didn’t bring girls home. He didn’t do any of the hot-man things you’d expected either. Instead, he spent most of his free time on Reddit, arguing with strangers about the state of modern dating, and why “nice guys” were being chronically overlooked by society.

After about a month, it clicked.

This man was chronically, terminally online. And an incel on top of it all.

The rule of never judging a book by its cover confirmed itself in the most jarring way possible. Would say, you played yourself there girl, but who am I to judge.

It started with the staring. You’d be sitting at the kitchen island in your sleep shirt, eating a bowl of Cheerios, and you’d look up to find him just… watching you. He never looked away when you caught him either. He’d just blink those big, stupidly pretty blue eyes at you, gaze heavy and analytical, like he was trying to calculate your exact molecular structure. Which, in a way, he was. Carefully assessing the harmony of your facial features, exactly like the looksmaxxing subreddit had probably told him to.

You were always the one who had to look away first, your face feeling weirdly hot.

Then came the rants. You’d come home from a brutal shift and collapse onto the couch, and Satoru would emerge from his room like clockwork. He’d drop down next to you, eyes glued to his phone, and start talking like someone had asked.

“It’s basic hypergamy,” he announced one night, to absolutely no one. “Men are biologically disadvantaged in the modern dating sphere because of the top-twenty-percent rule.”

You didn’t even look at him. You just kept staring at the TV and wondered how long you could keep nodding along before it would become suspicious.

And he would just keep going.

Spewing the most vile, stupid shit while you sat there, eyes flicking from the TV to him and back, nodding along because you genuinely did NOT care. Top twenty what percent? Wasn’t he objectively in the top ten at least? What the hell was he even talking about? Every time you didn’t answer, he probably took it as agreement. You just deadass had nothing to say to him.

Not because you lacked the energy to argue — though you kind of did, because talking to this manchild was like talking to a wall, and even that would’ve been more productive — but mostly because you weren’t even listening anymore. You’d learned how to tune him out pretty quickly.

You were tolerating him. That’s what you told yourself. You were tolerating him, and it had nothing to do with the fact that ever since you first laid eyes on him, your brain had decided to revert to its most embarrassing caveman settings.

Like that one evening when you were walking down the hallway toward the kitchen and the bathroom door opened.

Satoru stepped out, dripping wet. White hair plastered to his forehead, water still running down his chest, wearing nothing but a towel slung dangerously low on his hips. You shamelessly followed his happy trail. The way the towel barely clung on his hips.

Your brain stalled at the sight of his pretty body and your mouth went dry. You reminded yourself why you were tolerating him. Then berated yourself for doing exactly what he did — objectifying.

But hey. What's better than an incel asshole? A hot incel asshole. That's what's better. Congratulations to you specifically, really found a rock between a sea of gems.

You thought you had it handled. White-knuckle your way through the lease. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

And then you walked past his partially open bedroom door and heard him on Discord.

"Yeah, I mean, the living situation is okay," Satoru was saying, sounding so perfectly reasonable. You thought he was going to say something nice. What a good roommate she is, how glad he was to have you there.

"She's clean. And yeah, she's hot, but she's not like super hot hot where it's scary, you know? She's cute hot. Next door hot, pretty hot. Just my type, you know my type, dude. I can definitely work with that."

You froze in the hallway.

Your face did something that could only be described as a visual representation of what the fuck.

Cute hot. I can definitely work with that.

What does that even mean? You knew exactly what it meant, unfortunately. He wasn't just a weird roommate. He was a weird roommate actively running some kind of deranged, incel-fueled long game on you. Casually. Over Discord. 

You quietly backed away, went to your room, locked the door, and screamed into your pillow.

It was not like your roommate was describing you like a property investment to someone over Discord while you were standing mere feet away. 

You hated this. You hated him. And you hated yourself for having been even remotely apologetic about it, for feeling your heart skip a beat when he said just my type. Curse you and your completely stupid and irrational attraction to someone you should probably be filing a restraining order against! But god, he was so so cute. If he could just shut the fuck up, or get lobotomized, or something. You could take him to Claire's over the weekend?

But to his credit, and you could not fucking believe you were giving him even some credit at all right now, he was sometimes tolerable, heavy on the sometimes. The man never missed a rent payment. He scrubbed the bathtub weekly. He always bought the expensive brand of paper towels, the ones with the little flower pattern you liked.

Good roommate, structurally speaking. Nightmare, every other way.

And the attraction was just a proximity issue. Obviously. Everyone would have this problem. It would go away. His personality was ass. Soon enough you'd look at him and convince yourself his looks were ass too. Start acknowledging his hotness the way you acknowledged anything asexual.

It was totally fine. You were fine. He was just a guy. A guy who happened to look like a Final Fantasy character rendered in 4K, but still just a guy. A nice guy.

And work with that, he definitely did. Because he was fine too! Just not in any way he would ever admit to his Discord buddies.

Because doing it the normal way guys in their sexual prime do was completely fine. He was in his twenties, so naturally, his mind wandered a bit when his head hit the pillow with passing thoughts about the way your sleep shirt rode up your bare thigh. There was absolutely nothing wrong with getting off while thinking about someone! It was just the normal biological need the podcasts yapped about! It was healthy to be sexually active, even if his only active partner was his fist.

And if that happened to escalate into jerking off to a completely innocent Instagram picture and coming all over his phone screen while staring at your pixelated smile? Also completely normal! Everyone dealt with new living arrangements differently; someone screamed into their pillow, someone else was jerking off every time you got said person inexplicably hard! He couldn't be expected to live like a celibate monk when he was just a poor, horny guy trapped in an apartment with a gorgeous roommate who also happened to be exactly his type. He wasn't being a creep! He was just adapting to his environment.

Goddamn.

It wasn't fine. He wasn't fine, you weren't fine either.

But as the weeks dragged on, he started getting worse.

The passive-aggressive creepiness turned into passive-aggressive entitlement. He had decided, completely on his own, that the two of you were basically already together. You could feel it in the way he hovered. In the way he looked at you like he was waiting for something. Like a bill was coming due and he was just giving you time to find your wallet.

It started with the food.

Without any discussion, he started either making food for both of you or straight-up eating what you’d made for yourself. Like that was just the new normal now.

“Satoru, did you eat my food?” you’d ask, staring at the empty space in the fridge where your meal had been. The one you’d been looking forward to all day. And he’d just nod from the couch like it was the most normal, domestic thing in the world — not a direct violation of the rules you’d set when you moved in.

Or there was the night you came home completely drained, fully prepared to eat a sleeve of saltines and a bucket of ice cream for dinner, only to walk into the apartment smelling like garlic and roasted vegetables.

Satoru was actually at the stove, cooking. A rare sight — the man usually survived on takeout and DoorDash. And he’d used your expensive dried tomatoes. The ones you’d been saving for a special occasion. The ones you’d deliberately shoved to the back of the fridge so he wouldn’t find them.

“Men in the kitchen are a rare sight, I know,” he said, not looking at you as he stirred, trying to look like the eighth world wonder. “But I thought — what if I made pasta? It’s the one my mom used to make. Figured I’d make it for myself. Made a lot though, so… you can have some too, I guess.”

He was already plating a portion for you as he spoke, trying and failing to look casual while clearly nervous you wouldn’t like it.

You watched him for a moment and felt something shift in your chest. You immediately labeled it as hunger and moved on.

He didn’t ask if you liked it. He just assumed you would. And he was right, yeah you ate it, but that wasn’t the point. The pasta wasn’t even that good. Way too salty. But it sat warm in your belly, and you didn’t have it in you to tell him the truth.

You thanked him for the meal but didn’t acknowledge the grand gesture you hadn’t agreed to in the first place. You didn’t make conversation and went straight to do the dishes.

When you glanced back, he was watching you with that look again.

You looked away first.

And of course an incel like that would have opinions about your love life too.

You’d been seeing someone — nothing serious, just a guy from Hinge. Two dates in, and you were still on the fence. He didn’t make your heart do that stupid thump thump thump, and his hairline wasn’t all that great either.

You made the mistake of mentioning a possible third date while making coffee, trying to have a normal, boring conversation about your respective lives.

“I think I’m going to see him again on Saturday,” you said, mostly to your mug.

Satoru looked up from his phone. He was always on his phone doing gods know what.

"The architect guy?"

"Nah, I ghosted that one. Different guy."

A pause. He furrowed his eyebrows the way he did when he was assessing something. “How many are there?”

You gave him a warning look.

"I'm just asking."

"And I'm not answering," you said, rolling your eyes.

He put his phone down, which was never a good sign. You turned back to the coffee machine.

“I just think,” he started.

“Don’t,” you muttered, already regretting bringing it up.

"—that you're not being strategic about this."

You turned back around, mentally preparing for what was about to come.

“About dating. Statistically speaking, cycling through too many low-value options in a short period of time actually decreases your own value. If you want to attract a high-value man—”

He didn’t just mean men. He meant himself. Which, bless him, but also fuck him for putting it like that.

You stared at him for a moment, seriously considering yelling and throwing your mug at his stupidly symmetrical face.

“Satoru,” you said. “Did you just tell me I’m getting ran-through?”

He opened his mouth, then immediately closed it. His ears went pink — he had probably clocked his own stupidity, apparently, which was a first.

"No! It's not — that's not what I—" he started, hands coming up like he was surrendering.

"Where did you even hear that phrase?"

"It's a concept from—"

"No." You held up a hand. "No, I don't want to know, actually. You just made me really upset."

You picked up your coffee and looked at him — standing there in his stupid nerdy sleep shirt, with his stupidly cute messy hair, genuinely confused about why this had gone wrong. Like he really thought you’d realize he was right and apologize on your knees for even mentioning other men.

You felt furious. Tired. And something else you weren’t going to name.

You couldn’t believe you’d ever imagined getting railed into oblivion by this man. Instead, you had to talk to him like he was a toddler. You had a feeling you were going to become a cautionary tale. A PSA about what happens when you move in with an incel.

You went on the date that Saturday anyway. It was fine. The guy was fine-ish — less fine after the weird-ass conversation you’d had with Satoru prior. You came home to find him on the couch, waiting. Expecting something. But neither of you said a word. You just went to your room, got into bed, and stared at the ceiling.

You were so fucking tired.

Tired of dates that were just fine. Tired of coming home to this. Tired of the whole thing.

So you cancelled the next one. And the one after that.

Men were mediocre anyway, you told yourself. You needed peace. You needed to stop cycling through low-value options — god, you couldn’t believe that phrase was living rent-free in your head now. You were going to find whatever podcast invented it and send the hosts very ugly, very threatening email.

And maybe the apartment really was full of questionable worldviews, because somewhere between the sexual marketplace value speeches and his creepy behavior, you developed one of your own.

You became morbidly into the idea of breaking his incel resolve. Like you’d accidentally discovered a new kink.

Not even in a romantic way. More like you’d started writing a very questionable mental screenplay about dismantling him piece by piece. Watching the podcast rot leak out of him in real time. Making the incel guy want you so badly he forgot every subreddit he was joined in, until he was pathetic enough to cry at your feet — and you weren’t even the dominant type!

Wasn’t there a term for that? There had to be. You’d read the fanfictions. You’d read the think pieces. And every time you’d wondered why women did this to themselves.

Now you knew exactly why.

It was like disaster tourism. Some people went to Chernobyl for the thrill. Some people chased storms. You were simply built different.

Because when a man looked you in the eye and said shit like, “It’s actually been studied. Women who wear revealing clothing in domestic settings are subconsciously signaling availability to increase their mate value. It’s an evolutionary response to competition,” and meant it — like he hadn’t just dropped full Andrew Tate shit on a random Wednesday night — you weren’t going to let it slide.

You were already stretched thin. And he was on very thin ice.

So you made a plan.

You were going to show him exactly what skimpy clothing did to a man like him. And you weren’t going to think too hard about why this was probably the stupidest idea you’d had in a while.

Because who would voluntarily wear less clothes when they could just put on three more layers to prove a point?

You, apparently.

You dug out the shorts you hadn’t worn since sophomore year. The ones that left half your ass out and the tank top that made your boobs look obscene. All to "prove a point."

Satoru was at the kitchen island when you walked in, like every morning.

You leaned against the counter, grabbed your yogurt from the fridge, and started eating your probiotic-balanced breakfast, like every morning.

He was still on his phone.

You were starting to think the plan had lowkey a flaw — mainly the part where he wasn’t even looking at you — when he stood up and walked over to the sink to put his mug away.

He reached past you.

The mug hit the bottom of the sink with a loud clang as he stood frozen and way too close. Staring at you with his mouth slightly open, ears going pink in real time as the color crept up from his jaw. He was looking at you exactly how you’d hoped he would… and now that it was actually happening, your stomach did a stupid little flip.

You went to put the spoon back in your mouth.

But your hand missed and the spoonful of Activia went down your chin, down your neck, and disappeared between your tits.

Satoru’s eyes followed it the whole way. You felt your nipples tighten under the thin fabric as he stared. Then his gaze dragged back up, slow,  before dropping to what you were wearing.

When he finally looked at your face again, his ears weren’t just pink anymore. They were red.

“Uh. Y-you have yogurt. On your—” He gestured vaguely at your chest. “—on your b-boobs.”

You stared at him. He stared back — at your face, at your chest, at your legs, everywhere.

“Yeah,” you said. “I noticed, ‘Toru.”

You grabbed a paper towel and dragged it slowly down your neck, then slipped your other arm under your boobs to lift them higher, making the cleanup easier for you and significantly harder for him. You could tell by the way he was squirming.

He swallowed. A loud, audible gulp in the quiet kitchen. His Adam’s apple bobbed like it was trying to escape.

“Right. G-good — you cleaned it up. I-it was very messy,” he managed to get out, voice a full octave lower and cracking at the end. His eyes were half-lidded, ears still burning red.

Then he fled. He turned so fast he clipped his hip on the doorframe and didn’t even react to the pain before disappearing down the hallway.

You felt victorious. You’d fried his alpha-male-rotted brain. You’d proven your point. You were the apex predator of this apartment!

But then you took a breath and noticed your hands were shaking.

Your nipples were still painfully hard against the thin fabric of your tank top. And there was a warm, insistent ache low in your belly, sending little shockwaves down to your toes.

Wait.

What the fuck.

You looked down at your chest, then at the empty doorway like he might still be there.

Why the hell were you horny?

You were supposed to be the disaster tourist here. You were supposed to be watching the meltdown from a safe distance. Disaster tourists didn’t usually get turned on by the radiation. They didn’t usually want the hazard to come back out of his room, pin them against the counter, and put his stupid big hands on their hips.

You threw the paper towel into the trash harder than necessary. It hit the side and did a pathetic little plop! pathetically to the floor.

You slammed your bedroom door and threw yourself onto the bed, burying your burning face in the pillows.

The plan had worked perfectly.

Even if you had to dig out your vibrator later just to make the weird tingling go away.

It was just a power trip. Just the adrenaline of winning. That’s all it was. Power trips made people horny. It was biology. It was science.

Take that, Satoru!

And oh, he took it.

Across the hallway, Satoru was melting into his mattress. A bruise was already forming where he’d slammed into the doorframe. The image of that yogurt dragging down between your tits was burned into his brain. He was throbbing, and it was fucking pathetic.

He tried jerking off like usual — fist tight, imagining you on your knees — but it wasn’t enough anymore. Hadn’t been for weeks, actually. His hand wasn’t cutting it.

So he reached into the back of his bottom drawer and pulled out the silicone toy he’d bought recently. He was embarrassed, but too worked up to care. At least now he could pretend it was your tight pussy he was fucking into.

It was a new low. He knew it was a new low. But he did it anyway, eyes squeezed shut as he used the fleshlight, imagining you on top of him, under him, beside him — it didn’t matter. Anything was better than coming on his own just from the memory of yogurt dripping down your skin.

But of course, once the post-nut clarity hit, he took the whole thing the completely wrong way.

Because really, what did you think was going to happen?

You thought parading around half-naked in front of a terminally online incel would make him fall to his knees and magically develop self-awareness?

No. Of course not.

He thought you did it on purpose. For him specifically.

And yeah, you did do it on purpose — just not for the reason he thought. You were trying to break his brain. Make a joke out of his worldview! Instead, all you did was make him hard for three days straight and give him a terrifying amount of hope.

It validated every single pseudo-scientific dating theory he’d ever read. In his mind, you weren’t mocking him. You were submitting to his superior frame. You were “signaling availability.”

You hadn’t broken his incel resolve. You’d accidentally reinforced it. Applause.

And now Satoru believed, with full Reddit-backed certainty, that he had won. He’d played the long game. He’d kept his alpha composure. And now the cute roommate in the tiny gym shorts was finally ready to yield.

And worst of all? He started being creepy on purpose.

Before, the hovering and staring had been unconscious. Now he was doing it with intention. It was time to “establish physical dominance” and “break the touch barrier,” according to whatever the fuck forum thread he’d absorbed that week. 

He started finding excuses to be near you — reaching past you for things he didn’t need just to brush his chest against your shoulder, leaving you wrapped in his scent. He’d sit too close on the couch, close enough that you could feel the heat coming off him.

And it was working. You hated that it was working.

Every time his hand brushed yours or his fingers grazed your waist, your skin broke out in goosebumps. You could feel yourself reacting to his nervous little attempts to mark his territory, and it was driving you insane.

You were sitting on the couch eating your well deserved Pad Thai straight out of the takeout box while a true-crime documentary played in the background.

Satoru emerged from his room, did his usual hover-routine like some awkward mating dance, and then sat down. Right next to you.

Without taking his eyes off the TV, he reached over and placed his hand on your bare thigh.

It was this weird twitchy movement between caress and a customs agent stamping a passport.

His fingers kept flexing like he was fighting the urge to either pull away or drag them higher. You sat frozen, staring down at his hand, silently daring it to move. Then mentally cursing yourself for even letting it happen in the first place.

A rush of heat flooded your chest and cheeks. It burned under his palm and shot straight down between your legs.

Ovulation. It’s just ovulation.

"Satoru," you said slowly. 

He was staring straight ahead at the TV, posture stiff as a board and he was even redder than you.

“What the hell are you doing?”

He flinched, yanking his hand back into his lap and hunching over. “N-nothing.”

He cleared his throat but didn’t move away. His knee stayed pressed against yours. He took a breath, puffing his chest out as he tried to reclaim his “alpha” frame, then glanced at you as you took a shaky bite of noodles.

“So,” he started again, voice slipping into that pseudo-intellectual podcast cadence that always made your eye twitch. “I was reading a thread today. About proximity and domestic investment.”

You didn't look at him, listened to the Ted Bundy facts coming from the documentary narrator. Chewed and brushed him off. "Fascinating."

“It actually is,” he continued, completely unbothered. He leaned back, stretching his arm along the back of the couch and caging you in. “Because it highlights the flaw in modern female psychology. Women always say they want a nice guy. Someone who provides stability. Someone who pays his bills on time, remembers to buy toilet paper, and keeps a clean, optimal living environment.”

He paused, letting the weight of his own perceived perfection hang in the air.

“But,” Satoru said, turning his head to look at you, eyes locking onto yours with that same entitled certainty, “when that exact man is sitting right in front of them, offering unwavering loyalty and a high-value domestic partnership, they stay willfully blind. They friendzone him. Tease him. Cycle through low-tier guys from dating apps instead. It’s biologically counterproductive.”

The only sound in the room was the dramatic music coming from the TV now. You dropped your chopsticks into the takeout box, which suddenly felt too heavy in your lap.

He was so confident in his entitlement it actually made you sick. It was ruining your fucking appetite.

He thought doing the bare minimum — acting like a decent human being with basic hygiene — earned him loyalty points he could cash in for sex. Like some kind of fucked-up grocery store rewards program.

You turned your body toward him fully, voice eerily quiet.

“Let me get this straight,” you said. “You’re sitting here, in our living room, getting mad at me because your nice-guy vending machine is broken?”

Satoru blinked, his brow furrowing like he genuinely didn’t understand what the problem was.

“I’m stating a statistical—”

“Shut up.”

The words came out sharp enough to cut. You weren’t playing anymore. One more podcast quote and you were going to rip the hair out of his stupidly pretty head.

His mouth snapped shut. He looked genuinely startled. You’d never told him to shut up before — not like that. You’d always just nodded, or rolled your eyes, or tuned him out.

“You think this is a transaction,” you said, eyes narrowing. “You think because you scrub the bathtub and pay your half of the rent on time, you’re earning points? You’re keeping score. You did the bare minimum and now you’re waiting for me to drop to my knees in gratitude like you were providing for me?”

“I am a provider,” he argued, chest puffing out even as his voice lost some of its usual arrogance. “I bring high value—”

“You bring decency at best!” you snapped, throwing your hands up. “Doing your own dishes doesn’t make you a high-value alpha male, Satoru. It makes you an adult. But you don’t actually care about being a good roommate. You’re just dressing your entitlement up as niceness and acting like I owe you something because you haven’t been actively terrible to me.”

“That’s not—” He reached up to adjust his glasses, a nervous habit you’d never seen from him before. “I’m just saying that logically, the optimal choice for you—”

“There is no logic!” you snapped, standing up before you did something stupid like strangle him. “You don’t even like me! You just think you’re owed me because I’m convenient and I live here!”

Satoru flinched. All the color drained from his face.

You stood over him, breathing hard, looking down at this gorgeous, six-foot-three idiot who was staring up at you like you’d just rewritten the laws of physics. He looked lost. Stupid. Like he didn’t know what to do with his hands.

“But you acted like—” he started, then caught himself, shoulders squaring like he was trying to hold onto his frame. “You know what, forget it. You’re just proving my point. A guy does everything right, stays consistent, stays present, and the girl just—” he gestured at you with a disbelieving laugh, “—moves the goalposts. We’ve been living together for months. Friends for just as long. I thought if I followed the steps exactly, I’d finally get to— we would— I don’t understand how this is supposed to work, okay?! How is a guy ever supposed to figure it out if the steps are a lie and I haven’t even—”

“Satoru.”

He stopped. Mouth snapped shut. The tips of his ears suddenly burned bright red.

The realization hit you like a bucket of cold water.

Oh my fucking god.

You’d suspected it once or twice, but the thought had always flickered and died. Now it all clicked into place.

He’d never gotten his dick wet.

Your roommate was a six-foot-three virgin who thought turning to men who felt entitled to sex was a reasonable solution to his problems. What an absolute fucking mess. You almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

“You’re an incredibly good-looking guy, Satoru,” you said quietly. Sincerely. “Objectively hot. Get your shit together, touch some grass, and you’ll be fine. You’ll be more than fine. But until you stop treating women like a math test you’re trying to cheat on, nobody is going to want you.”

You shattered his ego completely.

Or maybe, for the first time since puberty, Satoru actually formed a conscious, self-aware thought. Because he kept turning your words over in his head.

Objectively hot.

No one is going to want you.

What?

He tried to find the logical flaws. Tried to insert a counterargument, disprove your “emotional outburst” with cold data. He couldn’t find one. Not for days.

You were avoiding him completely now. Icing him out. Not talking to him. Not even looking at him. It was driving him insane. You used to search for his eyes, even if it was just to roll them. He’d only just realized how genuine your flustered blinking had been, and now he missed it. Embarrassingly so.

One night he walked into the bathroom to splash cold water on his face, carrying a petty mix of rejection, confusion, and constant, unbearable horniness.

Your pink hair tie was sitting on the edge of the sink.

He told himself he was just going to pick it up and put it in your organizer tray.

So he picked it up. It smelled like your stupid, intoxicating strawberry shampoo. He hated it. Hated how the whole bathroom smelled like you after you showered. Hated how your scent followed you everywhere in the apartment, forcing him to breathe you in. The guys on Reddit had warned him about this. Pheromones. Dangerous.

He brought it closer to his face. Just to check. Just in case it wasn’t actually yours.

And what happened next stayed strictly between Satoru, the bathroom mirror, and god.

He clutched the sink, bracing himself against it, breathing ragged and humiliatingly loud. He stared down at the pretty pink elastic wrapped tight around the base of his cock as he fucked his fist like he was trying to punish himself, desperately trying to imagine your hands instead of his own.

It worked too well. It scared him.

He came hard, so so hard the hair tie ended up coated in thick, frothy cum.

He carefully nudged the sticky pink tie back onto the edge of the sink, exactly where he’d found it. Then he washed his hands under scalding water like he was trying to burn the shame off his skin and walked out of the bathroom like a man fleeing a crime scene.

Rejuvenated? No.

Good? Not even close.

He just felt like absolute shit.

Get your shit together.

But how?

He picked up his phone. Put it down. Picked it up again. The fight was still eating him alive. The podcasts told him to take his frustration out on other girls or channel it into dominance and detachment. That’s what the current episode would’ve said.

But he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to sleep with anyone else. He didn’t want to be aggressive. He just… wanted.

And that was the problem.

For the first time in a long time, the alpha-male bullshit was starting to feel a bit too beta now. He was left with his own feelings like a normal person, and it was awful.

If he was truly a high-value male, he shouldn’t care. He should pivot. Download an app. Find some new, compliant girl to validate his stats. But the thought of calculating the facial harmony of a stranger made his stomach turn. He didn’t want a hypothetical female.

He wanted you.

He wanted you rolling your eyes at him. Laughing at him. Getting annoyed at him. Eating his pasta. Walking around in those mind-melting shorts. He wanted you to drop yogurt on yourself again just so he could lick it off your skin, linger on your neck, and kiss you stupid — the way he’d been fantasizing about since it actually happened.

He needed validation. He needed to be right.

His thumbs moved across the screen before he could stop himself. He ignored his usual echo-chamber subreddits and opened r/AmItheAsshole instead.

r/AmItheAsshole 

AITA for expecting my roommate (F) to reciprocate my (M) romantic advances after I provided optimal domestic value?

Throwaway. This is gonna sound bad but I need actual advice.

I (M) have been living with my roommate (F) for almost a year now. I’m not gonna lie, I’m objectively good-looking and I’ve been carrying a lot in this apartment. I pay my half on time, I keep shit clean, I do the dishes, I even cook sometimes. I thought I was doing everything right.

A few weeks ago she started walking around in these tiny shorts and tank tops. Like, really small. I took it as her signaling that she was open to something. That’s what all the advice says — if a girl starts dressing like that around you, it’s usually because she’s comfortable and maybe interested. So I decided to initiate kino escalation. Nothing crazy at first, just trying to break the touch barrier a bit.

While we were watching something on the couch I put my hand on her thigh. She freaked out. Got really upset and started yelling at me about how I was treating her like a transaction and that I only did nice things because I felt entitled to her. She even said I was basically calling her ran-through for going on dates.

I tried to explain it calmly. Like, statistically, if a high-value guy is right there doing everything right, why would she keep going on dates with random dudes from apps? It just doesn’t make sense. She told me to touch grass and hasn’t really spoken to me since.

I don’t get it. I’ve been consistent, I’ve been present, I’ve been providing a good living situation. I thought that was supposed to count for something. Instead she acted like I was the asshole for expecting anything in return.

AITA?

He hit post.

He sat in the dark on his bed, heart pounding like it was trying to escape his chest. He just had to wait. The logical thinkers would show up. They’d validate him with proper, objective analysis. They had to.

Ten minutes later, the notifications started rolling in.

He opened them expecting vindication.

Instead, he walked straight into a digital firing squad.

u/GrassToucherGeto · 308 upvotes

YTA. Holy shit. You did a handful of nice things and you think that means she owes you sex? You sound like an actual sociopath. I’m surprised she didn’t run out screaming. She literally told you to get your shit together. What part of that are you not getting?

u/KentoTheNormalGuy · 291 upvotes

You're not alpha, man. Kino escalation? Are you trying to con her, or actually want her to want you? YTA.

u/NobaraJustice24 · 282 upvotes

YTA.  She can wear whatever the fuck she wants in her own home, you creepy ass weirdo. I hope she breaks the lease and gets a restraining order. 

u/RealityCheckChoso · 156 upvotes

This is the most pathetic thing I’ve read on this site in eleven years. This is straight-up incel fanfiction. Poor girl having to live with someone like you. YTA. Go outside.

u/yuji_8847362 · 124  upvotes

Genuine question, not trying to be an asshole: do you actually like her, or do you just think she owes you because you did some nice things? Those are two very different things, and your post doesn’t seem to understand the difference. YTA, but I hope you figure it out.

u/KingNaoya69 · 231  downvotes

NTA. She’s clearly testing you. The clothes were an invitation. Hold your ground, don’t apologize, and she’ll come around. Women don’t respect men who grovel. If she actually didn’t want you she would’ve moved out already. She’s still there, isn’t she?

Satoru stared at the screen in disbelief.

He’d expected validation. Maybe a few reasonable voices cutting through the noise, acknowledging the statistical validity of his position, maybe even offering some tactical advice.

Instead, he got hit with minus three thousand downvotes, a mod-locked thread, and three DMs telling him to go to therapy.

He thought it would give him clarity. Clear steps. A way to fix this mess.

It didn’t.

It just made him feel… nothing. Except for the creeping realization that he’d said something eerily similar to what u/KingNaoya69 had posted. Recently. Maybe even last week.

He threw his glasses off and stared into the middle distance.

What the fuck was he supposed to do?

He had no idea.

The days that followed were miserable. You were giving him the coldest shoulder imaginable — and honestly, he deserved it. You were weaponizing the silence. Slamming doors. Giving short, pointed answers. Moving through the apartment like he was just another piece of furniture. Looking through him instead of at him.

He kept going back to the comments on his post, rereading them like he could find a loophole somewhere.

Yes, of course he liked you. But how was he supposed to want nothing from you if he liked you? He wanted your affection. He wanted you to want him back. But wasn’t that also expecting something in return? What the hell was he supposed to do?

Still… the Naoya guy had been weirdly right about one thing. You stayed. You hadn’t moved out. You didn’t even seem like you wanted to. If you hated him that much, why were you still here?

On the nth day, he was sitting on the couch when you came out of your room for water. You glanced at him — just for a second. You couldn’t help it. The silent treatment was getting to you too, even if you’d never admit it.

Your eyes were hard to read, but there was something in them. Something expectant. Like you were waiting for him to do something. To fix it. To stop being an idiot so the two of you could move on.

Oh, he thought.

Truly the lightbulb moment of the century.

Oh.

That night he unjoined six subreddits. Unfollowed every podcast except Joe Rogan — because hey, you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Or was it unteach a new dog old tricks? Didn’t matter. What mattered was that for the first time since he’d discovered the internet, he was pretty sure he’d been an idiot.

And he was going to stop.

He made a plan. Simple. Walk out of his room, find you, and say sorry. Three steps. He’d been a person for over twenty years. He could do three steps. He had this!

You were in the kitchen. You were standing on the flimsy little step stool you needed to reach the top cabinet shelves, stretching up on your tiptoes for the glass Tupperware that Satoru kept putting up there, even though you had told him multiple times not to put it up there because you literally could not reach it.

"Hey," he said from the doorway, trying not to startle you. "Can we—"

You startled anyway, because what other outcome was ever going to happen here.

The stool wobbled under your socks. You gasped, swore something, grabbed for a shelf edge that wasn't there, and fully expected to eat the kitchen floor tiles before officially murdering your roommate from the afterlife.

But Satoru had surprisingly fast reflexes and caught you.

Well… almost.

He lost his balance as your weight shifted, and the two of you went down in a tangle of limbs and terrible timing.  The impact knocked the wind right out of your lungs. You landed sprawled over him, pressed against his chest, his arms secured instinctively around you—

Around your boobs.

You froze. He froze. The entire world seemed to fucking froze.

And as you laid there, from the adrenaline shock of it all probably, his fingers did a little squish!

Huh.

You didn't say anything. You couldn't breathe, let alone speak. You slowly turned your head. His face was right there and so, so close to yours. You panicked and looked into his equally panicked eyes, his poor glasses askew.

He was searching for something in your eyes, his pupils blown so wide they almost swallowed the blue. And then, as his chest was still heaving so heavily, his gaze dropped down to your lips.

You were suddenly very aware— Aware of his warm palms right through the thin fabric of your shirt. Aware of the way your tits swelled into his touch. Aware of how his thighs bracketed your hips, and how perfectly you fit against him.

His breath hitched. And then his fingers flexed. He made a soft, barely-there sound in the back of his throat and squeezed again — slower this time. Kneading right over your hardened nipples.

You parted your lips for a soundless gasp, and he huffed into your collarbone as the trance finally broke.

His arms slowly retreated, lazily dragged down your ribs, fingers grazing the soft of your tummy before finally falling away to rest on the floor, which somehow made it all worse.

"I—" His voice came out rough, barely above a whisper.

You scrambled off him like you had been electrocuted.

You sprinted down the hallway and threw yourself into your room, slamming the door behind you. You backed up until you hit something, you didn’t even care what, and slid down to the floor, knees pulled to your chest.

Your heart was pounding so hard it hurt. Your skin was buzzing. The ghost of his touch was still burning across your chest.

I fucking hate him, you told yourself. He’s a podcast-rotted incel. I hate him.

…Do you?

Because why the fuck had you wanted his hands to stay there? Why had that second squeeze made you want to straddle him right there on the kitchen tiles and fuck him stupid?

You were just touch-starved. That’s all this was. You were projecting onto your terrible roommate because he was being a sleazy little shit.

You grabbed your phone off the nightstand with shaking hands and unlocked it.

Hinge.

Your ol’ friend.

You needed a date. You needed a normal, boring, completely average guy with a decent hairline and zero opinions on hypergamy to save you from whatever the hell had just happened in that kitchen.

You were in your room getting ready for your date, dressed to kill. Short dress, favorite lace panties — because after everything that happened in the kitchen, you were still weirdly, persistently horny. Might as well try to do something about it with someone normal.

Satoru was lingering in the hallway like always, doing his very obvious not-hovering hover.

"Going out?" he asked, clearing his throat, trying to act so aloof and unbothered.

You didn't even look at him properly. "Yeah. I have a date," you said smugly as you pulled your hair up into a ponytail. Hair down meant cute, but hair up meant business. And by business, I mean finally attempting to jump on some normal, average dick.

The second the words left your mouth, a wave of jealousy hit him so hard it nearly knocked the air out of his lungs. But he wasn’t looking at your face. He was staring at the pink hair tie holding your hair up.

He visibly gulped. His dick went from zero to painfully hard so fast he had to cross his legs just to hide it.

You furrowed your eyebrow at the uncharacteristic lack of response, but wasn’t entirely mad about it either.

"See ya," you chirped, completely oblivious to his internal meltdown, and walked out the front door.

The second the door shut, Satoru basically teleported to his room. He threw himself onto his bed, already fumbling with his pants, desperate to take care of the problem so he could think straight again.

But he spent exactly thirty minutes achieving absolutely nothing. What the fuck.

This had never happened before. Satoru was just staring at his ceiling, sweating, furiously gripping his aching dick, and completely unable to finish. Every time he closed his eyes, he imagined you laughing at some beta joke a 100% mediocre guy had made, while his past-tense cum was proudly sitting in your hair. He was literally too jealous to finish.

But jealous or not, he was still agonizingly hard, his dick standing painfully stiff against his stomach, stubbornly refusing to just calm the fuck down. He let out a frustrated groan. Okay. Fine. No hand? No problem! He reached for the silicone fleshlight, but he hadn't washed it in quite a while, and when he picked it up, a funky smell drifted off it.

Okay, NEVER MIND.

Which left him with only one option.

Today’s the day.

He reached into the back of his bottom drawer again and pulled out a silicone cock ring.

He had bought it right after he absolutely demolished your cute little hair tie. Because what does a normal guy do in that situation? Grovel first? Solve the underlying interpersonal issue? Nah. He goes on r/sex to research why a piece of elastic felt so hella good around his dick!

He hadn’t touched it since. Post-nut clarity had done its job last time. But right now, staring down at his aching, neglected cock and feeling rejected, humiliated, and completely alone… it was time.

Fuck it.

He ripped open the packaging and wrestled the thick silicone down his shaft until it sat snug at the base.

Almost immediately, something felt off.

It was tight. Too tight. Not in a good way — just uncomfortable. Constricting. He tried to power through anyway, closing his eyes and stroking like he could force an orgasm out of sheer spite.

Ten minutes passed.

Nothing.

His brain was too far gone, and the pressure was quickly shifting from weird to genuinely concerning.

Fuck this.

He stopped. Tried to take it off. But it didn’t budge.

Satoru blinked. He adjusted his grip and pulled harder. The skin stretched painfully, but the ring stayed exactly where it was.

Oh fuck.

A cold sweat broke out across his forehead. 

Oh fuck, oh fuck.

He scrambled off the bed, grabbed his lube, and squeezed way too much directly onto the ring. He tugged and twisted like his life depended on it.

Nothing. Fucking nothing. It just made his hands uselessly slippery.

Okay, oh fuck. Wasn't lube supposed to work?! Okay, new plan. Something else, something more slippery, something more oily—

Panic seizing him, he stumbled to the bathroom, dug under the sink, found your baby oil, and slathered it on.

Still stuck.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Different oil! Not enough slipperiness! Trust the process!

So he waddled out of the bathroom, practically sprinting into the kitchen buck naked. He tore open the pantry, grabbing the vegetable oil. 

This has to work.

It did not work.

Ten minutes later, Satoru was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, coated in a slick, highly flammable mixture of lube, Johnson & Johnson baby oil, and Wesson canola oil, panting heavily. 

Dick throbbing, but not the fun kind of throbbing anymore. It was turning a terrifying shade of angry red-purple, the silicone death trap literally suffocating his junior.

It was no longer just uncomfortable, nor just alarmingly stuck. At this point, it was a fucking medical emergency. 

He was so fucked he might be patient zero of mpreg.

But what the hell was he supposed to do?

Call an ambulance?

Absolutely not. 

The thought of a paramedic cutting a sex toy off him with trauma shears while asking for his emergency contact would genuinely kill him on the spot. He would rather die of necrosis.

Call his friends? 

Fuck no.

If any of them found out about this, the screenshots would never die. They’d revoke his alpha card permanently and hold it over his head for the rest of his life.

He stared at his contacts.

There was only one person who could help without turning it into blackmail material or posting it online. The one person who lived in this apartment. The one person who was currently out on a date with some random guy. The person he had a massive, pathetic crush on and who would probably rather rip his dick off than help him.

He hit Call.

You stirred your gin and tonic while your date went on about his fantasy football draft like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. It was a perfectly fine date! The kind of fine that made you wonder why you even bothered.

You were nodding along, even though you had stopped listening roughly four minutes ago. Then, your phone vibrated on the table.

Satoru.

You ignored it. No, actually—you declined it. You smiled sweetly at your date, asked a vague question about tight ends so you would seem like you were actually paying attention, and took a sip of your drink.

Your phone buzzed again. And again. And again.

Annoyed, you held up a finger to the poor guy who was currently rating wide receivers, excused yourself, and off to the bathroom, fully prepared to yell.

“What?” you hissed the second you picked up. “I’m on a date, Satoru. If you locked yourself out—”

"Please come home," he gasped. He didn't even say hello. He didn't sound aloof, and he certainly didn't sound alpha. He actually sounded like he was drawing his final breaths on this earth. "You have to come home. Right now."

"What happened? Did something catch fire? Did someone break in? Are you—"

“I can’t tell you,” he whined, voice high and shaky in a way you’d never heard from him before. “I physically can’t say it out loud. Just— please. Please come home.”

You were ninety percent sure this was some pathetic attempt to ruin your night. Some last-ditch manipulation tactic he’d picked up from a podcast or Reddit thread.

But the remaining ten percent made you ditch your date without a second thought and jump into an Uber.

You practically kicked the front door open, your heart hammering. The apartment was completely quiet, and it smelled all wrong.

Like babies and an industrial air fryer?

"Satoru?" you called out, dropping your bag. "Where are you? The apartment better be fucking flooding, or else I swear to God—"

A pained, muffled whimper came from down the hall. His bedroom door was cracked open so you pushed it wide, fully prepared to absolutely tear him a new one for ruining your night.

Satoru was sitting on the edge of his bed, completely naked, perched on a bath towel soaked through with some kind of glistening sludge. He was trembling, sweating, aggressively gripping the mattress. And his dick — very visibly, very aggressively hard — was pointing straight at you.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!"

You exploded the second you saw him, because an impromptu dick is still an impromptu dick! “Some pathetic plan to finally fuck me? You couldn’t even be decent about it — you just called me home so you could sit here with your cock out?!”

You expected some sleazy line. Some smug little smirk. Instead, Satoru looked up at you with wide, tear-filled eyes behind his smudged glasses and let out a broken, wet sob.

"I'm not—" his voice cracked terribly. "I'm stuck."

Huh?

Furrowing your eyebrows, you stopped yelling and your eyes actually dropped down.

And then your stomach dropped with them.

Wait. Oh. He was so, so large.

But that wasn’t the problem. His dick was an angry, swollen red-purple, veins bulging like it had its own heartbeat. And at the base was a thick silicone ring, cutting into him so tightly it looked like it might actually burst.

And all the anger drained out of you in an instant. Suddenly, you felt the harsh reality of the literal medical horror you were now a part of. 

"Oh my god. Satoru... what is going on?!"

“Fuck, it hurts— please help me,” he whined, voice cracking as he bounced his leg against the floor like that would somehow fix anything.

You stepped closer, the sheer absurdity of the situation making you drop to your knees between his spread thighs just to get a proper look. It was incredibly stupid and deeply awkward, being this close to his swollen, shiny dick.

“Is that… a cock ring?” you asked, horrified.

Satoru nodded frantically, a tear slipping down his cheek and dripping off his jaw.

"Satoru, you know there is a fucking size chart to these things?! You can’t just buy anything with the size of your dick! Are you fucking stupid?!"

"HOW SHOULD I KNOW?!" he wailed, hands flying up to cover his face in absolute humiliation. "Wait—" He suddenly froze, lowering his hands just enough to look at you. "Did you just say I have a big dick? Wait. Fuck. OUCH. It just fucking hurts! Please, please help me, I've tried everything but it just won't budge! It hurts so much!"

You squinted at the shiny, slick mess coating his thighs and soaking into the bath towel. "Did you try lube?"

 "Yes!" 

"Baby oil?" 

"Yes!" 

"Did you... did you use the cooking oil from the kitchen?!"

 "YES! FUCK!" he sobbed into his hands again.

"Why did you even put it on?!" you yelled back, genuinely baffled by his astronomical stupidity.

“I was horny, what else?!” he cried and shook his hands. “You left with the cum tie in your hair—”

“THE WHAT?!”

Your hands froze in the air. Your brain forcefully restarted about three times trying to process the sequence of syllables he had just screamed at you.

The cum tie.

You suddenly felt the gentle pull of the pink elastic holding up your ponytail. The one that was your favorite. The one you had idly wondered before why it was suddenly so... crusty.

"You..." you whispered, a cold wave of fresh nausea washing over you. "You did what to my hair tie?"

“I didn’t mean to!” he sobbed, face red and streaked with tears. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and I used it, and then you put it in your hair to go out with the guy and it made me crazy so I put the ring on!”

Your hand twitched toward your ponytail. You were going to rip it out. Burn it. Shave your head. And then murder him. A jury would probably let you off in seconds.

But then you looked down. His dick might actually pop! like a grease-filled water balloon. There was no time.

You took a deep, slightly deranged breath and shoved every horrifying thought into a box for later. You could have a full meltdown about having his reproductive fluids in your hair as an accessory after you made sure his dick didn’t fall off.

You aggressively ignored his stare, locking your eyes entirely on the crisis. "Okay. Okay, I've got this. This is a medical emergency."

Your brain started racing. You couldn't cut it off without risking severing something vital, you certainly weren’t a doctor, and the swelling was so so severe to just pull the ring back over the ridge. You knelt there, suddenly arriving at a horrifying conclusion that you were going to need a serious moment to accept.

Because there was only one way to get it off. And the only way to get it off was to get rid of the erection.

You had to make him cum.

“Okay,” you muttered. Then again. And again. Like repeating it would make it feel less insane. “W-we just need to… get it down.”

You bit your lip, giving yourself the quickest, most productive, and most threatening internal TED Talk in human history. Your hands twitched, but you finally reached out and wrapped them around his oil-slicked shaft.

“AGH— FUCK— NO!” Satoru immediately jerked back like you’d electrocuted him, slamming against the mattress.

"What the hell?! I barely touched it!"

“The skin’s too tight!” he cried out, practically hyperventilating. “It feels like a razor blade— you can’t use your hands, it hurts too much!”

You tried again anyway, slower this time, gripping him carefully. The skin was burning hot, painfully stretched over the trapped blood. You gave one experimental stroke.

“No— no no no, please stop—” His voice broke into a real whimper as fresh tears spilled down his face. He pushed at your shoulders, legs shaking. “Please, I can’t— it hurts so fucking bad—”

You yanked your hands back, heart pounding as your own panic officially set in. "THEN WHAT ELSE?!"

“I DON’T KNOW! I thought you might know!”

"HOW SHOULD I KNOW?!"

A beat of deafening silence fell over the grease-scented bedroom. You looked at him. Then down at the problem between his legs.

Wait—

Your brain scrambled for literally any other fucking solution. Ice? Cutting it completely off? Calling 911 and collectively dying of embarrassment on the spot?

Nothing. 

There was nothing else.

God fucking help you. You might as well die from the cringe right here on the floor.

You stared down at his lengthy cock again. It was a pathetic mix of pre-cum against his oil-slicked stomach. Satoru was breathing in short, panicked gasps, tears still tracking down his flushed cheeks, glasses fogged and crooked, looking totally helpless.

“No,” you whispered to the empty space between his thighs, stomach twisting with reluctant acceptance. Coming to terms with your own fate. Girl, it’s your fault. Your fate had been sealed the second you decided to find a roommate on Reddit. “No, no, no.”

“What?” Satoru whimpered through his teeth, barely audible. “What ‘no’?”

If your hands were completely off the table…

A wave of heat flooded your face and dropped straight into your belly. Surely from disgust. Trust.

You shifted forward on your knees, your dress dragging through the oily mess on the floor. The fabric was already ruined and sticking to your skin. You braced one hand on his trembling thigh, leaned in, and took the swollen head of his cock into your mouth.

The taste was vile as hell.

Canola oil, baby oil, lube, and the bitter salt of his pre-cum all hit your tongue at once. You made a muffled, disgusted sound around him as your lips stretched and you sank down. The mixture mixed with your saliva and slid down your throat as he pushed deeper than you expected.

Satoru’s entire body jolted as the mushroomy head hit the back of your mouth.

“Whoa— oh my fucking god—” His voice cracked into a broken, high moan. His stomach flexed like he was trying not to fold in half. Both of his hands flew to your hair, oily fingers catching in your ponytail, clutching without quite pushing or pulling. I mean, you already had cum in your hair anyway. What was a little more oil and lube?

His hips twitched. His thighs trembled under your hand. He clearly had no idea what to do with himself.

You started moving, and it was messy from the first second.

Everything was slippery. Your lips kept sliding, saliva mixing with the grease until it dripped down his shaft in shiny, frothy strings. You had to suck harder just to keep any kind of rhythm, cheeks hollowing, tongue working in messy circles under the head every time you pulled up. The wet sounds filled the room — slick sucking, soft gagging when you took him too deep, his broken little whimpers.

You hated the taste.

You hated how your knees already ached against the hard floor.

You hated that your dress was ruined, soaked through and sticking to your skin.

And you hated the way he was looking down at you — in pain, in complete disbelief that you were actually sucking him off.

ANd what you really hated the most was that you were looking up at him while you mouth was licking him up and your body was already starting to betray you.

Tingly heat was spreading low in your belly. Every throb along his length, every broken moan that slipped out of him, made you wetter. You weren’t supposed to be horny! You should’ve been so so disgusted. But the scent of him, the taste of his pre-cum coating your tongue, made your pussy clench around nothing. Your nipples were hard, rubbing against the inside of your dress. Your cunt felt hot and slick — whether from your own arousal or the oily sludge on the floor, you genuinely couldn’t tell anymore.

You bobbed deeper, taking him until your nose brushed the base and the ring dug into your skin, then pulled back with a wet gasp. A thick and slimy string of saliva and oil connected your lips to his cock before it broke.

Satoru was staring down at you like you’d personally broken his brain.

His chest was heaving. Tears were still leaking from the corners of his eyes — pain, pleasure, or the sheer absurdity of the situation, it didn’t matter. His mouth hung open, glasses sliding down his nose.

Then his eyes dropped to your chest.

His gaze followed the way your dress had slipped lower during all the movement. Your tits were threatening to spill out completely. He made a strangled sound in the back of his throat.

His hands left your hair and reached down. Big, warm palms cupped your breasts through the thin fabric first — almost careful. But then he yanked the neckline down hard, dragging the fabric under your arms, practically rrrrripping it open, until your tits spilled free.

A fresh tear tracked down his cheek as he stared at them like they were something holy.

“Holy fuck— your tits—” he breathed, cupping them fully. His thumbs brushed over your hard nipples before he started kneading with desperate, greedy hands. Squeezing, lifting, rolling the soft flesh between his fingers exactly like he had in the kitchen — except this time there was nothing holding him back, because you certainly wouldn’t make him stop. 

The moan you let out around his cock was involuntary and absolutely nobody’s business, alright? Your teeth grazed his sensitive skin and the vibration, combined with the impromptu bite, made his hips jerk violently. He let out a breathless gasp, hands tightening on your boobs almost painfully before he loosened his grip again, thumbs flicking over your nipples in a way that sent sparks straight between your legs.

The lace of your panties was useless now, clinging to your soaked pussy lips.

But the dress had become a real problem, at least that’s what you were telling yourself. It was restricting your movement, getting in the way every time you tried to take him deeper. It was uncomfortable as hell, which was actually true.

You pulled off his cock with a wet pop!, lips shiny and swollen.

Fuck this dress. And probably him too.

You sat back on your heels and yanked it over your head, kicking it away. Now you were kneeling in nothing but your ruined lace panties — the ones you’d specifically worn because you were hoping to get laid tonight.

Well. You weren’t entirely wrong, now were you?

Satoru made a sound like he’d been punched in the gut. His wildest dream had just come true in the most deranged way possible.

You leaned back in and took him into your mouth again, sucking with more purpose now. One hand stayed wrapped around the base near the ring while your other hand stroked his thigh and lower stomach — anywhere to try and soothe him.

His clammy hands were right back on your bare tits, rolling them between his fingers like he was trying to memorize their exact shape. You moaned around him because it felt so fucking good. Unfairly good.

The taste was still awful. The room still reeked of canola oil. Satoru was still quietly crying above you — overwhelmed, terrified, and so turned on he could barely think straight. But the way he was touching you, the way he was falling apart in your mouth…

You were dripping straight through the lace right onto his fucking floor.

One of your hands snaked down your body. You pushed your panties aside and started rubbing desperate circles over your poor clit while you kept sucking him.

What a development. 

Righteous ideologies and all. Now you were naked on the floor of your incel roommate’s bedroom, sucking his cock while fingering yourself. Truly the most progressive way to handle this type of man.

Your pussy felt hot and aching. Your fingers slid through your own slick, making your hips twitch and another moan vibrate around his dick.

Satoru’s breathing sounded like a kettle about to boil over. His hands kept slipping on your oily skin, smearing the mess across your chest and shoulders. He was trapped in the most surreal, humiliating, perfect moment of his life — your mouth on him, you naked and touching yourself while the whole room smelled like a deep fryer.

He was half-sobbing, half-moaning.

“You’re— nghh— you’re actually getting off while—” His voice cracked as he looked down at you. You glanced up through your lashes, a little scowl on your flushed face, fingers still working between your legs.

You couldn’t even be embarrassed anymore. The absurdity had burned straight through your shame. You were horny. Stupidly, painfully horny. It was all too much and not enough at the same time.

Filthy sounds filled the room. He was crying. You were crying. Sweat was mixing with the oily mess coating your skin. You could taste your own tears mixed with the mess on his cock as they slid down your face. One of his hands was tangled in your ponytail, greasing it up nice and disgusting.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he choked out, voice hoarse. “I can’t— ngh— I can’t believe this is real—”

You pulled off just enough to breathe. “Shut up and let me finish this,” you muttered, then sank back down, taking him as deep as the ring would allow.

His other hand relocated to your shoulder.

Then his dick throbbed hard against your tongue. Swelling, twitching and you knew he was about to blow.

You started to pull back, but his hands moved faster. One fisted tighter in your hair, the other gripped your shoulder hard. He held you in place. Rough. Desperate. But he didn’t mean to!

You made a surprised, muffled sound around him as his hips jerked.

“W-wait—fuck—I’m—!” he gasped, betrayed by his own body.

You felt the first big pulse against your tongue.

You manage to wrench your head back at the last second because there was no way in hell you were swallowing a mixture of cum and baby oil — popping off just in time. But it was too late to get completely clear.

Satoru came hard.

The first thick rope hit you across the cheek and lips. The next few painted messy white stripes across your chin, your chest, and down your neck. It kept cooooming in hot, twitchy pulses until he’d almost emptied his aching balls.

And suddenly you were back in the kitchen. Only this time it wasn’t a freaking Activia dripping down your tits.

It was him.

You stumbled backward onto your ass, cum cooling on your skin as he finally let go of you. You wiped the back of your hand across your cheek, smearing it further. He just stared down at you like he’d died and gone to heaven — you, sprawled on his floor, covered in his cum, panties twisted half-off your hips, your blushing cunt smiling up right at him and your panicked eyes unblinking.

Holy fucking nirvana, right there.

You felt disgusting. You felt filthy.

And somehow, you were still throbbing between your legs.

“Fuck— shit, fuck, fuck!” Satoru cursed, trying to stand up too fast. He slipped on the oily towel and nearly ate shit before catching himself on the edge of the bed. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hold you there, I just— it was too much, I panicked—”

He stumbled toward you on shaky legs, one hand reaching out like he was going to help you up, the other still hovering near his softening cock.

“Satoru,” you said, voice low. “Pull it off.”

He froze for half a second, then looked down.

And it was finally, finally softening. The angry red-purple was fading. The skin wasn’t stretched as tight anymore and there was a very small, very dangerous window before he’d be hard again and back in square one.

His eyes lit up with desperate hope. He grabbed the cock ring with both hands and yanked.

The sound that tore out of him was somewhere between a sob and a scream. It was violent, painful, and made you cringe so so badly. The ring caught on the ridge for one horrible second before it finally slipped off with a wet smack and skidded across the floor.

For a moment, Satoru just knelt there, breathing hard through the fading pain. Fresh tears tracked down his flushed face as the relief finally hit him.

Then he looked at you. Really looked. At the mess he’d made across your pretty face and chest. At the absolute state of the room. At everything.

“I’m the worst,” he whispered. “I know I’m the worst. You should kick me out. You should call the cops. I didn’t mean to make it worse. You probably hate me—”

He looked like he was about to start ugly crying for real. His shoulders were shaking as he braced himself for you to slap him.

And look — you wanted to. You wanted to go back in time so you would’ve never answered that fucking Reddit post, never answered his call, never come home tonight. r maybe… go back just a little bit. To when your tongue was sliding over his frenulum and you’d never been so turned on in your life.

Either way, you weren’t sure anymore. Your brain was more scrambled than the eggs you’d had for breakfast.

So instead of slapping him, you surged forward, grabbed his face with both of your hands, smearing his cum and your own arousal all over his jawline and kissed him hard enough to shut him up.

For half a second he stayed completely frozen — stunned that you were kissing him instead of murdering him on the spot. You nudged your tongue against his lips, urging him to kiss you back, because the last thing you needed right now was sucking your incel roommate off and then having him refuse to kiss you afterward. That would’ve been a new low. Truly historic.

But then he let out a shaky breath and kissed you back.

He kissed you desperately, messily, like he was trying to crawl inside your mouth. Saliva, cum, tears, and oil all mixed together as your tongues slid against each other. Teeth clicked. His hands came up to grab your waist, pulling you closer until your chest pressed against his own. He whimpered needily into your mouth and tangled his tongue with yours like he was starving for it.

His glasses got knocked even more crooked.

When you finally pulled back to breathe, you reached down and started yanking your ruined lace panties off. They were twisted around your thighs and sticking to your skin from all the mess.

Satoru, still breathing hard and clearly trying to regain some sense of control, decided this was THE moment, HIS moment to be useful.

“Here— let me help,” he muttered, reaching down with both hands.

The two of you fumbled together in some weird horny trance, his fingers sliding against your thigh as he tried to tug the lace down your leg.

But his hand slid right off your slick skin and he lost his balance completely. With a startled gasp! he pitched forward and crashed down right on top of you, pinning you to the floor.

His full weight pressed you into the cold hardwood. Chest to chest, hips slotted between your thighs. The kisses making him hard again, dick now twitching insistently against your tummy.

Then Satoru lifted his head from the crook of your neck and looked down at you. His hair was a mess, but there was something almost determined in his expression now.

“I’ve got it,” he said. Yeah. He definitely  got this. He’d seen the porn. He’d read the r/sex threads. He was a man, the man! He knew exactly what he was supposed to do. Fluent in the dickology! Show you what a high-value male can do. You'll respect it. You’ll want it!

You stared up at him and raised one eyebrow.“…Are you sure?”

He looked faintly offended, but reached between your bodies anyway, grabbed his cock, and lined himself up against your slick folds. The blunt head nudged against your entrance before he pushed in with one unsteady thrust and you were honestly surprised he found your hole on a first try.

The stretch was intense. His cock bullied its way into your tight cunt, the sudden fullness making your back arch slightly off the floor. And it made you think that maybe… just maybe he’s a virgin incel but he somehow actually knows how to fuck?

Satoru made a choked sound above you. He braced his hands on either side of your head and started moving, a little too fast, a little too rough, like he was following some mental checklist of “how alpha males fuck” or something. 

His hips snapped forward, rolling against yours. On a few of his clumsy thrusts, the sharp angle of his hipbone dragged right across your swollen clit.

A spark of pleasure shot right through you, made your breath hitch and his dick catch inside of you. Your fingers scratched on his shoulders and for a second you were hopeful, hopeful that perhaps incels were just involuntarily celibate men with a dick game like this.

It died almost instantly. His rhythm fell apart just as the plushy walls of your pussy fully enveloped him fully in the slick warmth. His movement turned erratic as his hips started stuttering.

“I—fuck—I can’t—ngh—!”

So… He lasted exactly forty-five seconds.

With a humiliated groan he slammed into your cervix one last time and came haard, painting your walls in thick, sticky white. His wobbly arms gave out again and he collapsed on top of you not very gracefully, face buried right back into your neck as he rode out the pathetic orgasm. He was breathing hard, the sound mixing with the wet squelching of oil, cum, and sweat between your bodies every time either of you shifted.

You stared sideways at the messy white strands of his hair currently tickling your pulse point, feeling his cum slowly leaking out around his softening cock. The frustration burning hot alongside with the ghost ache right in between legs.

If he had just let you ride him instead. Ugh.

“…Really?” you said flatly.

Satoru, mortified, made a small devastated noise into your neck and laced his fingers with yours like that would somehow make it better.

You hadn’t come from the fingering earlier. You definitely hadn’t come from his forty-five-second marathon. 

You shoved at his shoulder.

“Satoru.”

He made a small, satisfied noise.

“Satoru. Did you just cum inside me?”

His eyes flew open. The bliss drained from his face instantly. He slowly nodded, guilty, not knowing if he should be terrified or glad.

You pushed him off you. He rolled onto his back with a wet squelch.

You sat up, cum and oil smeared across your skin, and stared down at him.

“You ruined my date,” you said, voice low. “You were stupid enough to trap your own dick in a death trap and made me come home to deal with it. You came all over me without letting me cum, and then you creampied me in under a minute.”

He opened his mouth, “I was just claiming what’s mine—”ready to say something even more stupid.

You cut him off, because you were not listening to that right now and ever fucking again. “Don’t. I swear to god, if you say one more word of that pseudo-alpha, podcast-bro bullshit right now, I can promise you this will be the first and last time you ever have your dick in any pussy. Ever.”

He froze.

You leaned in, eyes narrowed, pussy suddenly drying up at high speed.

“I’m serious, Satoru. All that ‘high-value male,’ ‘she’ll respect dominance,’ ‘women secretly want to be put in their place’ garbage? It’s not cute. It’s not hot. It’s not working. It makes you sound like a loser. You’re only lucky that I’m stupid enough to actually fucking like you.”

And Satoru deadass had nothing to say, because it didn’t make sense, yet it made all the sense. And in the middle of the gears grinding he blinked up at you because… did you just tell him you like him?

Before he could grab your chin and kiss you stupid again, you pointed between your legs.

“Since you made this mess, you’re going to clean it up. Now.”

The color drained from his face as he stared at you. “Y-you want me to eat out my cum?”

“Did I stutter?”

He was too stunned and properly terrified to argue. He knew that if he didn’t get his shit together right now, this really might be the first and last time he ever saw pussy in real life. So he scrambled down between your thighs without another word.

He’s going to do it for the love of the game. Can’t be that bad, right?

He gulped as he nestled between your soft thighs, eyeing your tight little hole as a little trail of his cum mixed with your frothy slick leaked onto the floor below you. And it was the prettiest sight he had ever seen.

The reluctant pout on his face made it clear he was weighing eating his own cum against the very real possibility of never getting to fuck you again, so you made it easier for him. You grabbed a fistful of his messy white hair and yanked his face straight against your pussy. His nose immediately buried right between your wet folds, tickling the sensitive flesh.

And maybe he was currently terrified of you, or it was the fact that he finally smelled your sex up close — either way, he was now desperate to please you.

The first drag of his tongue through your folds was experimental, almost cautious.

He did it again, licking with too much pressure and in all the wrong places, clearly thinking he was doing something impressive, missing your clit. Again. And again. And again.

For fuck’s sake, you lasted maybe fifteen seconds. You reached down, grabbed his silky hair again, and yanked his head up to adjust him.

He furrowed his brows at you, confused and a little offended, like he was about to argue — until his tongue accidentally flicked right over your clit.

His eyes widened slightly.

He did it again, slower this time. A testing little flick. Eyes wide, as if asking what the hell just happened, feeling the little knob jumping.

You let out a shaky moan, fingers tightening in his hair.

“That’s my clit, Satoru.”

His eyes darkened and he dove back in with completely different energy. Okay, he knew where your cute little clit was. Now onto figuring out how to make you come on his tongue. 

He started with the licking, up and down, until he pushed into your leaking hole. He almost immediately tasted his own cum, still warm, thick, and disgustingly bitter against your sweet pussy juices, and he made a guttural sound right against you.

He should have been disgusted, appalled, mortified through his militant incel brain. But why did it taste so wrong, it tasted so so right?

Eating himself right out of you — it was so pathetic, so raw, so hot. And you couldn’t fucking believe you actually made him do it.

Your pussy fluttered and he dove in like a man possessed.

A desperate whine vibrated against your clit as he started licking in earnest. Messy, unrestrained, starving. He was slurping loudly, tongue pushing deep to get more of the mixture, swallowing it down like he couldn’t get enough. Every time he tasted more of himself leaking out of you, another broken moan escaped him.

His hands gripped your thighs hard, holding you open as he buried his face deeper. He was whining and whimpering into your cunt like tasting his own cum inside you had flipped some primal, pathetic switch in his brain neither of you even knew existed.

“Fuck— you taste so good— I taste so good on you—” Every few seconds he would pull back just enough to breathe, drooling, and mutter broken little things against your skin. And you were once again left wondering where all the skill came from.

Then he’d dive right back in, tongue flicking over your clit before dragging down to lap at your hole again, like he was trying to clean you out and make you messy all over again at the same time.

It was deranged.

It was filthy.

And it was fucking working.

Your hand fisted in his hair, gripping tight. He moaned loudly at the rough treatment, the sound muffled against your pussy as his tongue circled your clit, biting then sucking on it, then flattening to drag it through your folds like he was trying to devour you whole.

You were gushing at this point, and not a drop ever spilled on the floor as he slurped you like his favourite boba flavour. His touch spread across your entire body as the orgasm built after getting edged the entire evening to fucking oblivion.

“‘Toru—” you cried, thighs starting to tremble around his head. And he bit down gently on your inner thigh when you tried to close your legs on instinct.

Look, it’s not like you did it on purpose — who the fuck would want to close up shop when business was this good?

He kitten-licked your poor clit, sending sparks right to your lower belly. Your back arched off the floor as his hand snaked up at the right damn time to flick your nipple.

Oh.

“Holy— ngh— fuck, ‘Toru—!” you screamed and came all over his poor face, thighs clamping around his head as you tried to suffocate him with your spasming pussy. You shook like you’d been electrocuted and he kept licking and licking, to the point you weren’t sure if you came again or if it was just one big orgasm. He wanted to taste every damn second of you falling apart because of him, for him.

His face was a mess. Half of it was shiny and wet with your slick, lips prettily swollen. He’d thrown his glasses somewhere on the floor in the middle of it. His pupils were practically heart-shaped, and he looked so wrecked it was beautiful.

He was so cum-drunk he only stared up at you with his mouth open, resting his cheek against your inner thigh, waiting.

And your eyes might’ve been heart-shaped too, because the sight of him made you throb all over again.

“Fuck,” you almost moaned, reaching down to grab his shoulders. “Come here.”

Satoru didn’t need to be told twice. He crawled up your body like he was starving for it — for you. He crashed his lips against yours and the kiss was fucking messy. You could taste yourself on him as he smeared your slick across your chin, tongues sliding sloppily against each other like you were trying to devour one another.

His hands found your waist. He shifted his weight and rolled the two of you until his back was against the bed and you were straddling him in his lap.

You broke the kiss just long enough to look at him. His chest was heaving. And he was looking up at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

Everything was still disgustingly sticky, but the way he looked at you made your heart go thump thump thump in a way it never had before. So you reached down, wrapped your hand around his cock, and sank down onto him in one slow, slick motion.

Satoru’s head tipped back against the bed with a broken groan that made the muscles in his neck jump. His hands immediately gripped your hips hard, fingers digging into your ass like he needed to anchor himself.

“Fuuck—” he slurred, voice so dazed. “Oh my god— you’re so warm— so fucking tight—tighter—”

You started moving, rolling your hips in frantic circles. Every time you sank down, you could feel the tip kissing your cervix, nudging right up against the entrance of your womb as he completely bottomed out.

It didn’t take long before his hands tightened on your ass and he started helping you. He pulled you down onto him faster, guiding your hips with desperate hands while lifting his own to meet you halfway.

“Shit— just like that,” he whimpered, kissing all over your jaw as his tip kissed your poor cervix again and again and again. “Ngh— you’re milking me so good—”

He was completely gone. Eyes glassy, mouth open, babbling whatever came to his mind as you rode him. And every time you clenched around him, another broken sound slipped out of him.

His mouth searched for yours again, licking into the corners of your lips before kissing you deep. You slipped two fingers into his mouth and he immediately sucked on them, tongue rolling around your fingers with a needy moan that made your pussy flutter and squeeze around him even harder. Your swollen clit dragged over his lap and lower stomach with every roll, his happy trail tickling your sensitive folds and sending sparks up your spine.

Satoru whined around your fingers, hips twitching up helplessly.

One of his hands stayed on your hip while the other slid up and wrapped around your neck. His thumb brushed along the side of your throat as he started moving you faster, pulling you down onto his cock with more urgency. The sound of your skin loud.

“I’m so close,” he warned desperately against your lips. “Fuck— I’m gonna cum— you feel too good—”

His hand squeezed, holding you in place as he helped you bounce on him. Every time you sank down, he lifted his hips to meet you, fucking up into you until your jaw rattled. He was panting hard, forehead pressed against yours, completely pussy-drunk.

Satoru came with a broken, drawn-out moan, hips jerking up into you as he spilled deep inside. He held you down against him, grinding up as he pumped his cum into you like he was unconsciously trying to fuck it into your womb. His hand on your neck tightened just enough to pin you down against him while he trembled through it.

Both of you were breathing hard. He held you close and kissed the side of your head as he hugged you.

“D-did you cum?” he mumbled against your skin, still dazed and half out of it.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, deadpan.

“WHAT?”

He blinked up at you, still glassy-eyed and fucked-out. “You squeezed me so hard I thought you did! Okay then— cum then!”

You stared at him for a second, somewhere between offended, frustrated, and fond, before letting out a short laugh.

“You’re actually so fucking stupid.”

You were still softly rolling your hips, using his softening cock like a dildo while you were still determined to cum again. Satoru just watched you, half-intently, half blissed-out, still breathing hard, feeling his cum escaping your pussy and pooling in his lap. After a moment, one of his hands slid down between your bodies. His fingers found your clit easily this time and started rubbing you.

“Fuck— you’re still so wet,” he mumbled, eyes locked on where you were grinding against him. “Keep going… I’ve got you.”

So you kept moving on his semi-hard cock while he fingered you, the combination making your thighs shake. Your breath started hitching and Satoru was watching your face closely now, still drunk but trying to focus.

When your mouth fell open so prettily and your eyes fluttered as he just hit that spot inside you with the angle of his cock, his other hand moved to your hip almost automatically. He gripped you and started moving you himself, guiding you in short, deliberate rolls so his cock and his fingers kept pressing right against that same sensitive spot from both sides.

“There?” he asked, voice low and rough. “Right there?”

You could only nod, a broken whimper slipping out of you as you started tipping forward, head on his sweaty shoulder until your thighs were trembling hard and you felt like a jelly.

You came with a sharp, shaky moan, clenching around his soft cock as the overstimulating orgasm tingled through you. Satoru held you through it, still moving you gently and praising you until you completely slumped forward against his chest.

He hugged you tight, face buried in your neck.

And you stayed slumped against Satoru’s chest for a long minute, both of you just breathing each other in. The adrenaline was finally wearing off, and reality slowly started to creep back in.

The room was in fucking ruin. You were both coated in a sticky mess, the mattress behind you was most likely ruined, and the floor was dangerously slippery. It smelled like greasy sex.

“Well,” you said.

“Yeah,” he answered quietly.

You slowly peeled yourself off his chest, shivering as the cool air hit your slick, overheated skin. 

You looked down at him and he still looked completely fucked-out, and you decided you could get used to that look. As you stretched, you felt his cum trailing down your inner thighs. Satoru’s eyes followed it from the front row, his spent dick giving a weak twitch at the sight.

“I’m going to take a shower,” you said softly, breaking the quiet. You paused, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “…Wanna join?”

Satoru’s heart practically stopped. His eyes widened and for a second he looked like he was going to follow you like a lost, oily puppy. But then he glanced around at the absolute state of his bedroom and reality hit him again.

“I’ll, uh…” He cleared his throat. “I’ll clean this up a bit first. You go ahead.”

You pouted but gave him a soft, understanding nod. “Don’t take too long, ‘Toru.”

You grabbed one of his random t-shirts from the floor and padded down the hallway toward the bathroom.

Left alone on the floor, Satoru stared at the opposite wall for a long time. He was deadass completely re-evaluating his entire existence.

He had just experienced the most surreal, life-changing two hours of his life, and the only thing he knew for certain was that he was completely whipped for you. For once, he didn’t care what his old incel education had to say about it.

He reached over to his nightstand, picked up his phone, and wiped a smear of baby oil off the screen before opening Reddit.

r/relationship_advice

I (M) think I’m in love with my roommate (F) and I might have just completely fucked everything up in the most humiliating way possible

Throwaway because if she ever sees this she will murder me.

I’ve been living with this girl for almost a year. She’s my roommate. For the longest time I thought I had everything figured out. I believed that if I just kept doing enough, she’d eventually see me as a potential mate. She didn’t, obviously.

Tonight I did something so fucking stupid I still can’t believe I’m typing this. I got a cock ring stuck on my dick. I panicked and called her while she was on a date and basically begged her to come home. She helped me. She got it off. And then… something else happened. Something I didn’t expect at all. And now she’s in the shower and I feel like I fucked up our friendship beyond repair. My entire worldview feels kinda off.

I think I’m in love with her. I’ve been a terrible roommate. I’ve been a terrible person tbh. I don’t know what we are now. I don’t even know if I have the right to ask. But I think I love her. And I have no idea what the fuck I’m supposed to do.

Please help. And be nice this time.

u/GrassToucherGeto · 183 upvotes

Is this the same guy who posted that viral “AITA for expecting my roommate to fuck me because I did the dishes” thread a few weeks ago?

u/KingNaoya69 · 56 upvotes

You fucked her? Good shit bro. Don’t fuck it up this time.

Satoru looked up when you walked out of the hallway wearing his t-shirt, your hair still damp and smelling like strawberries. Something in his chest went soft at the sight.

He was still sitting on the floor, holding a bottle of kitchen cleaner in one hand and a roll of paper towels in the other. He looked like he had no idea what he was doing.

You sighed and gave him a soft, tired look.

“‘Toru,” you said gently. “You’re not going to be able to clean this mess up right now. Just go wash up.” You paused, biting your lip. “Let’s just sleep in my room tonight, alright?”

He blinked up at you, panicked and hopeful all at once. You tilted your head, giving him the softest smile you’d given him yet. That was all it took. He dropped the cleaner without a second thought and basically sprinted down the hall.

He took the fastest, most aggressive shower of his entire life, scrubbing the residual oil and shame off his skin like he was trying to erase the last few hours.

When he finally crept into your bedroom, the lights were already off and you were in bed. He climbed in beside you and the sheets smelled like you. It was warm. It was safe. It made something in his chest loosen.

You shifted over without opening your eyes, throwing an arm across his chest and tucking your face into the crook of his neck with a soft, contented sigh. You fell asleep almost instantly.

Satoru lay there staring up at the dark ceiling, gently nuzzling the top of your head with his cheek. A quiet, overwhelming sense of peace settled over him.

Carefully, so as not to wake you, he reached for his phone on the nightstand one last time.

He opened Reddit and went back to his post. The comments had already blown up again — some people calling the story fake, others demanding more details about the cock ring, a few calling him a simp.

Satoru smiled to himself.

He typed out one final edit.

Update: nvm, she’s tucked into my side. Take this as a PSA to all the other incels out there. Admins, please flag this as SOLVED.

── Dividers from petalpx and fairytopea and melocor!

[forriku-deactivated20260315]

💭 fucking inside a public bathroom with college!tsukishima

from the moment you stepped into the crowded college party, tsukishima— your tall, snarky boyfriend—had been unusually touchy.

his long fingers grazed your waist constantly, pulling you closer amid the thumping bass and laughter, his breath hot against your ear as he murmured, “you look so fucking good in that skirt, i could eat you alive.”

but it escalated when he tugged you onto his lap on the couch, his hand sneaking under your skirt right there in the dim light, fingertips teasing your damp panties, circling your clit slowly. “feel how wet you are already? bet you’ve been thinking about my cock all night” he whispered, voice low and rough, making your thighs clench.

you squirmed, whispering back, “babe, people might see—” but he just hummed, slipping a finger inside you briefly, pumping once before pulling out. “then let’s find somewhere private before i fuck you right here.”

now, shoved into the cramped bathroom, door locked but music still vibrating through the walls, tsukishima has you bent over the sink, skirt hiked up around your waist, panties yanked down to your ankles. his pants are barely undone, just enough to free his cock that is thick, veined, and throbbing as he lines it up with your dripping pussy.

“fuck, look at you in the mirror” he groans, gripping your hips hard, slamming into you raw in one hard thrust.

you cry out, but he clamps a hand over your mouth, leaning over your back. “be quiet or i’ll stop. you don’t want that, do you? not when your greedy cunt’s sucking me in like this.”

he starts pounding relentlessly, hips snapping with hard wet slaps, his dick stretching you wide, bullying your cervix with every deep stroke.

the size difference is obscene— well, he is much more bigger than you. right now he towers over you, one hand bracing the sink as he rails you from behind, your ass jiggling against his pelvis. “you like me fucking you like this? taking my dick in public?” he whispers into your ear, breath ragged, free hand sliding up to shove two fingers into your mouth. “shit, you're so loud.”

you moan around his fingers, drooling messily, eyes rolling back as he lifts one of your legs onto the counter, spreading you wider. the angle’s brutal- his fat tip hammers your g-spot, then deeper, kissing your cervix over and over, making your legs tremble uncontrollably.

cream coats his shaft, frothy and white, dripping down your thighs as you cum on him hard, walls fluttering wildly.

“that’s it.. cum all over me,” he groans, watching in the mirror as your tits bounce under your top, face flushed and dumb with pleasure, your flawless makeup from earlier now all smudge. “fuck, you’re so tight- gonna make me cum inside you.”

he doesn’t let up, pounding into your pussy harder, deeper— reaching around to rub your swollen clit in messy circles, smearing your juices everywhere, while his other hand yanks your hair back so you’re forced to watch yourself get ruined. “look at how good you take it, baby. taking my cock like a champ. so fucking pretty for me”

your mind blanks, fucked dumb, legs shaking so bad he has to hold you up as another orgasm rips through you, squirting slick down his balls.

your pussy clenched tightly around him and then hes cumming with a shaky moan, he buries himself balls deep, pumping hot ropes of cum straight into your womb, his cum overflowing and trickling out around his girth.

he stays plugged in for a moment, kissing your neck sloppily, whispering, “thats a good girl.”

you stumble out of the bathroom minutes later, legs wobbling like jelly, cum sticky between your thighs under your skirt. tsukishima wraps an arm around your waist, smirking down at you like the loving asshole he is.

“where you going?” tsukishima drawls, long fingers curling around your wrist as you try to slip back toward your table.

his voice is low, laced with that smug edge, golden eyes glinting behind his glasses.

you open your mouth to answer, but he tugs you closer, leaning down until his lips brush your ear. “parking lot’s this way,” he murmurs, breath hot against your skin. “let’s go home. i’m not done with you yet.”

[misshoneysplayhouse]

What It Really Is

Jax x Fem!Reader

Summary: Caine goes through with giving the ability to have sex amongst everyone but forgot about it entirely, everyone else did too. Now you’re stuck in a jungle adventure with a pent up Jax and a bet you just can’t refuse

!!CW!! pornwithlittleplot, dubcon, biting, pussy eating, throatfucking, spit play, fingering, kissing, manhandling, backshots, overstimulation, cum play, being tied up, hunting, jax is talking crazy reverse cowgirl, Switch!Jax, cowgirl,

Now playing on HNEY Radio at Playhouse Records..

Skin-Rihanna

All I Need- Lloyd

Cockiness-Rihanna

Love Me- Lil Wanye

Wicked Games- The Weeknd

It had been about 2 weeks since the grand idea came across Zooobles' mind again, you thought they were crazy and Caine even crazier for giving into the whole "ability to have sex to make adventures more interesting" thing.

At first it wasn't noticeable, nobody cared about wanting to sleep with one another, Kinger went on with his normal self with no change, Pomni and Ragatha talked about their fantasies and Zooble grabbed up Gangle the second Caine gave em a box of 'parts' to choose from.

All that was left was you and Jax, he instantly went on his bullshit to tease Zooble or Pomni but those plans backfired in his face, and you forgot about the entire thing until today when Caine emerged into the sky with Bubble with a 'brand new adventure' from the suggestion box.

"Survival of the fittest! I like it!"

"Who the hell wanted to survive in the jungle?" You muttered out with a confused look.

"I thought it would be funnn, the last one standing wins! What's wrong with that?" Jax smiled, looking to your direction.

"Count me out of this.." Zooble sighed.

"You have the survival skills of Kinger standing in the middle of the sun.." You scoffed, looking up the moving mouth.

"Pfft and you think you got anything better? I'm sure Pomni can give you a tip or two.."

"Caine didn't give you enough.." You mumbled, leading to Jax to widen his smile as he caught on to what you said.

"It's brilliant! Perfect even! Exploration! No teams! Every man for themselves, every captured person is a point and the last person still walking around wins! And it gives me time to cook up MORE ADVENTURES!" He shouted, rolling around in the air. "Bubble here will be recording your movements so I can keep track of who's captured! With that being said…..SURVIVE." He spoke, zooming into everyone's face before snapping his fingers, sending everyone in the middle of the jungle with weapons in the center.

"You've got to be kidding me.."

"We got free sticks!" Kinger shouted with a giddy laugh, running into the forest with the bow instead of the arrow and not a care in the world.

"I know he said no teams but do you wanna stick around with me? To ya know..watch over each other?" Ragatha spoke up to Pomni as the two of them walked over to the pile of weapons with Gangle and Zooble.

"Do you really think anybody's gonna…actually capture anyone?" Pomni questioned, digging around to find anything good.

"I'm not letting Gangle out of my sight…just incase anyone does get too excited…" Zooble muttered, looking back over to Jax standing with one hand in his pocket, wiggling his fingers into a wave.

"Go on, take a peek before all the good stuff is gone.." He chuckled turning to you.

"I'm not entertaining this, You had first pick in the gun pile, why are you just standing here?" You asked back, looking to the two impromptu groups walk off into the forest, loaded with what they could carry.

"These survival adventures are a piece of cake once you've been here as long as you do, you start to learn patterns..I could win this thing by sleeping here in the middle and wait for Kinger to pop out somewhere...but I've got a bigger challenge.."

"What, the bulge in your pants or the fact that nobody gives a fuck to catch you?"

His eyes shot down for a split second at your tapping foot and your crossed arms, almost like he was waiting for a reaction of some sort before scanning back up to you, a wide toothed smile emerging on his face as he stared.

"You think you're- wait did you just say-." He pauses again, looking down at the ground. "He must've forgotten to..."

"As much as I would love to mess with you, I'm going to find a hole to hide in until this is over.." You scoffed, turning on your heel to face the "spooky" forest.

"Oh no.." He chuckled. "You're going to handle that little issue..”

Your neck turned back, glaring at the smug purple bastard.

"What issue?" You snapped, your chest suddenly pounding in annoyance yet the slick rabbit kept his composure, dropping his attitude and continuing on pushing forward to close the space between the two of you

"Slow and steady wins right? I'm not the only one who's needy for it" He trailed off, lowering his sarcastic tone as he leaned down to your height.

"Fuck you..” You spat at his corniness.

“If i find you? Is that the prize?”

“And if i find you first?” You replied back, annoyed with yourself for playing into his stupid antics

“We’ll put that mouth to good use..”

A eerie yet comfortable silence stood between the two of you, the both of you had an understanding of what was going on, you were so afraid that if you cracked even in the slightest he would use that to his advantage! You didn’t want him, let alone sleep with him, so why did he turn you on so much?

The slick remarks, those staring contests that felt like full blown sessions, he would never go out of his way to bother you like Gangle or Pomni, yet he had his own ways of getting under your skin and apparently under your outfit as well.

You curled your lip up at him in disgust as he bit his lip, watching you disappear into the distance. If the trees were any quieter, all you would've heard was soft squelching noises of your own mess snitching on you and how Jax really made you felt.

With the sun setting, this would make the first night of survival and the first night of torment you had to face, if you had common sense you would've went in the direction of Zooble and Gangle but the stubbornness in you wanted to prove a point.

A useless one.

~

Day 7

After managing to set up something worth calling a camp, your nerves have been set on pins and needles watching your every move, the voice inside of your head screamed at every shadow, every whisper of the wind and each crunch of the NPC animals only there to scare the piss out of you.

There was still no sign of Ragatha, Pomni anyone, just you alone in the thickest part of the jungle, you alone with your own thoughts flashing back and forth showing images of the color purple, taunting you. You shook your head from the wretched images, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand to reveal what looked like sweat.

“I’m sweating?” You panted, poking your mini campfire with a broken bow you found, tossing some more dried leaves and left over branches inside to keep it roaring.

Your stomach created a weird growling sensation and your little issue was a thing of the past.

“And I’m hungry? I’m not killing another one of those weird fucking things..” You scoffed to yourself, listening to the nearby bushes ruffle from the NPCs.

The rustling happened again only at a bigger scale, causing enough ruckus for you to notice. You found yourself squinting your eyes into the darkness and your heart pumping cold blood throughout your system, it had been almost a ‘week’ in this stupid adventure with no signs of the rabbit you made the impromptu bet with and that left you unnerved.

“PEEKABOO, I FOUND YOU!”

“KINGER?!”

The chess piece jumped out of the bushes onto the ground with a tiny gremlin wriggling around in his hands. His outfit looked tattered like he had seen a wood chipper in the middle of of the jungle and

“This little guy just wouldn’t quit, I chased him off a cliff and thought i had found dinner until he ran me into pack of hyenas…”

“There’s hyenas?! Caine put actual animals in the-“

*rustle, rustle, rustle*

“Did you run all the way here? With them-"

Before you could finish, a huge gust of hyenas followed behind Kinger, scooting him and his luch away. You watched the silly sight until he was out of your range, turning around to focus on your tiny fire and keeping up your guard, but the faint sound of what seemed to be someone hyperventilating stopped you.

You looked around the swampy looking area, trying to spot where the breaths were coming from, your curiousty forcing you deeper into the forest. Whether it was Jax or not as long as you captured somebody, this entire adventure would cease and you wouldn't have to tiptoe in the middle of the jungle..

Keeping your actions small and your pace immensely slow, you peered around a huge tree expecting someone to jump out but instead you caught a glimpse of a recognizable rabbit leaning against another large tree, panting and heaving as he had a hold of his dick through his overalls.

Your body jumped in silence before you jumped behind the bark with your heart beating out of your chest and another forming between your thighs.

"Nononononono.." You yelled in your head, pursing your lips shut to hold your breath. Your thighs slid past each other as you clenched them together, listening carefully to his heavy breaths, you could've sworn you heard him whimper out something, some words maybe a name? Whatever it was it made your cunt whimper back in response and if you didn't leave now she would start screaming.

"Back the way I came..just walk backwards.." You thought, turning your gaze to where you could still see his purple fur in the distance, creeping backwards slowly, trying your best not to make any sudden movements to give away your location.

Once he was out of your sight, you turned forward and booked it, stepping on branches, pushing past stupidly large leaves, feeling a sense of relief in your chest as soon as your campfire came into view.

You paused for a split second to catch your breath, taking a step back once you heard the familiar sounds of rustling happen again, but this time it was infront of you, then behind, then all around.

"Huh? What the fuck?" You spoke aloud instead of your thoughts, taking another step backwards as the sounds crept closer.

Songs 1-5

“Easyyyy cupcake..” His disgustingly warm voice melted in your ears. Jax’s huge gloved hand wrapped around your mouth and the other around your body pressing your figure against his, firm enough to feel his print poking at your back.

You struggled against his abnormally tight grip, this wasn't a hold that said "i got you" no, it was harsh, suffocating, restricting, your ass rubbed up on his cockhead and it sent shivers up along your spine, a feeling you hadn't felt in such a long time.

"Howdidyou-mmmm!" Your voice mumbled, swinging your head back and forth to try an make an attempt to bite him but his gloves were too thick.

"Slow and steady..right?" He whispered, pushing his hips up to grind his bulge on you, listening for those breathless whimpers he anticipated for. His breath was hot against the back of your neck, the two of you couldn't get any closer and you didn't know if you wanted to pull away or press your ass onto him further.

Your body made the decision for you.

"Ohhh I knew it, look at that.." He huffed, moving his hand from your hip to your stomach area, trailing it down between your thighs to cup your leaking cunt through the material, groaning in pleasure at the results.

He played with your juices with his gloved fingers, placing two of them into his mouth just to taste, his pupils shrinking quickly then expanding like an addict itching for another hit.

You reached around with one of your free hands to find his quite girthy length, wrapping your fingers around his base to palm him through his overalls, earning a drawn out moan from the desperate rabbit.

Knowing what the two of you did, it had been months, let alone years since a feeling this human came across the circus, it didn't have much affect at first until Jax couldn't hold back his own thoughts, he spent the first two nights rock hard, staring against the ceiling with a pillow, trying to ignore his thoughts.

When everyone tried to move on like nothing happened, that's when it hit you like a fucking truck, you assumed handling the problem yourself would help until you kept getting glimpses of Jax's dick he tried soooo hard to contain. Then the visions started happening right along the time he started fucking with you, more than he usually would!

Pulling at your bra strap since you had something to cover now, pretending to snap pics of your underwear, reaching for his overalls when he felt you staring, watching your body movements for anything just so he could accuse you of being "horny".

You had a good enough poker face right up until this very moment where every wall you had up crumbled against his touch. You couldn't explain why his desperate moans made your pussy clench around nothing for what it felt like the millionth time or why you were grinding back up against him to match his rhythm in the middle of the forest as the fire roared near the both of you.

"Come handle that issue or you need this mouth to shut you up?" You puffed through his loosened hand holding your neck and face, still grabbing at his length with a stronger grip, your snarky remarks being shushed by Jax's hand going inside of your pants, past your underwear to reach that newly sensitive bud with his gloved material, rubbing circles.

A small shock of electricity shot through your body going straight for your core as a soft moan left your lips, almost saying his name. It shouldn't feel this good, your body couldn't be this pathetic could it? His movements pause abruptly as he yanked his hand away, forcefully turning your body around to face him.

His eyelids were low and heavy and his breaths were ragged, almost growling with each exhale. Your thighs shuddered but your mind had a window of clarity as you pushed his body off of yours.

His fur seemed bushy and all out of whack and that bulge still forming in his overalls twitched for more then the sneak peek he'd just received. It seemed like you'd ran right into his domain and he had you right where he wanted.

"Run." He spat through gritted teeth, snatching a couple of nearby vines from behind him, charging in your direction in a swift motion. You sped off ahead into the night past your campfire fast enough to blow it out, englufing you in darkness. Pushing past branches and dodging giant tree roots, you were panting like a dog but found a small smile crawling on your cheeks as you ran, almost like you wanted to giggle.

You dared yourself to look back but knew it would be stupid on your end, but you did anyway only to see pure darkness behind, causing a huge pit to form deep inside of your stomach. You flipped your neck back forward, digging your feet into the muddy ground before everything went upside down in an instant.

The sky became the ground and the dirt of the jungle floor became your ceiling.

"Wwwaaahhhhh!" Your voice screamed, a mass of birds flying from their resting positions.

"Oh this is pa-thetic...." He laughed out, looking up to your body dangling upside down in the air, trapped by the ankle.

"Get. Me. Down!" You hollered, holding your clothes from falling in your face, swinging around out of frustration. You weren't embarassed but more pissed off at yourself for not watching your feet. The way he chuckled with such malice you didn't know if you wanted to scratch it off of face or lick it off.

"Is that how you ask? I won fair and square Y/nnn..now if I know anything about bets...I'm due a prize.." His voice grew dark and his movements became quick as he took a hold of the huge base of the tree, climbing up towards where you were. The dumb thing to do would be to flail around and scream, but taking just a few more seconds to think, you waited for him to make his way to the elongated branch, watching him carefully pull you up.

You took your chance by swinging your ankle at him yet he snatched it up with his hand along with the other ankle, swinging you around with a chuckle in his throat.

"Jax, cut that shit out!" You raised your voice, doing all that you could to keep your clothes from exposing the mess he knew you were hiding. Your actions were becoming futile.

"What am I doing? Hmm? Quit being a sore loser." He spat, shaking you around some more, causing your hands to slip and your clothes to flip over and your underwear on full display. He wasted no time tossing you into the air only to grab you by your sides like a hug, placing your soaked pussy right in front of his sinister lips.

Jax's actions were irrational; he didn't give a fuck about that silly piece of cloth covering your puffy clit, no. He ripped them off with his teeth, laying a hot stripe onto the sensitive bud, a cracked moan escaping his lips as your nectar coated his face at an instant, once he shoved his mouth over your mound like he was devouring you whole.

"H-hahhhhhfuucck! J-Jax, you're cheating! Oh my god.." Your voice shivered, your legs were sprawled out in the air as your body dangled upside down, yet you found a way to subconsciously buck your hips into his messy mouth. Your vision of green trees and vines grew hazy from the sensation of Jax's tongue rolling over your clit again and again. He pulled off of your cunt with a satisfying 'pop' sound just to spit all over your quivering hole, diving back in with a grunt.

"...fucking...ridiculous..soogood..not..fucking fair..." He muttered in between licks, wrapping his mouth around your hole to shove his tongue back and forth, still holding onto your body to make you fuck yourself on his wet muscle.

"You're....hahh..cheating..oh fuck.." You whimpered, your eyes fluttering with each pump, your walls quivered as cream formed inside of your messy cunt to which he dug out of you with his thick tongue fucking you relentlessly. You bit your lip to hide the pathetic moans but it was no use, Jax moaned around your clit and spit up all of your juices onto your sex only to slurp them up with a satifying smile, rubbing his face into the mess as he swallowed, lapping you up like a stray dog finding scraps in the street.

"I'm gonna....Jax...I'm gonna shhhiiiiit!" Your body dangled in mid air while the blood rushed to your cranium with nowhere else to go, he didn't have to choke you, gravity did it for you.

"All in my mouth, all of it. I won't waste it Y/nn..cum all in my mouth let me pull it out of you.." He whined agaisnt your pussy, smearing his sloppy lips across your clit, playing with the bud with his mouth rolling his face in circles, all while holding you in the air. Your legs clamped around his face but he didn't have care in the world.

Despite your legs crushing his jaw he went on lolling his tongue out to smear your creamy pussy all over his menacing smile, flicking the swollen bud with the tip of his tongue.

"I won't..I can't.."

"You will.." Jax growled, returning his tongue back inside, licking your walls until he felt your insides quiver and a hot stream of your clear juices shooting out into his face. He chuckles to himself as he pulls off, letting the nasty line of your cum squirt out, he places his face back into your heat, drinking up every last drop, burping like a fucking animal before going back in to place sloppy kisses on your pussy lips.

"J-JAX!" You shouted, wriggling around in his grasp while the orgasm chased around your veins, trembling every part of your body. Jax let out a small giggle before pulling at the vine holding your leg up like he was trying to break it. You whined from the sensitivity, taking your hand to rub your clit to pull another orgasm out of you, noticing the purple bastard trying to tug on the vine. You went on with your "distraction, feeling the thick vine break and your leg kick Jax down as your back hit the muddy ground, and another thud followed after.

"Never...*Cough* wanna play by the rules! I found you first!" You panted, the dirt causing clouds of dust to form around you. Jax coughed from the cloud and scooted himself back up against the base of the tree to get himself together.

"I found you. Half naked palming yourself.." You went on, slowly but surely making your way to the base of the tree where a tired yet still hung Jax sat, panting and heaving hard with those big yellow eyes.

The bulge in his overalls felt like a restricting hell and you wanted nothing more than to rip him out of it, all those nights where he tugged at them just to get a reaction of out you, those nights you snuck and heard him muffling his whimpers in his room all came to this moment.

"I won and I'm supposed to put this mouth to use right?" You taunted him with his own words, crawling in between his legs as your mouth drooled from anticipation.

“I didn't forget.." He grinned, keeping close eye contact until you got within his reach, grabbing you up by the back of your neck as he pulled his overalls down forcing you to get a closer look at the real issue he was having.

The whimper that left his lips felt like throwing water in a hot pan with the way it crackled in his throat, he almost whined yet he sucked in his breath feeling the warmth your lips kissing up his twitching base, his pupils dancing in a frenzy like motion trying to keep his eyes on the pornographic sight.

You moaned softly around his length, taking the tip of your tongue to slide up to his tip so you could wrap your lips around it.

"H-How do you dooo that?" He huffed still with his hand on the back of your head bobbing your head further. He tossed his hips up in a sporadic pattern biting his lips as his squeezed his eyes shut, rolling his head back against the tree.

Pulling off of him, you took your hand to jerk him off lifting his base to suck on his balls underneath, smiling to yourself at the dirty sight. You went back in holding his dick with your hand taking him as far as you could before coughing back up to spit on him.

"I knew you were a cum slut, holy...shit. Been dreaming about this fucking mouth...god you're disgusting..." Jax groaned, humping himself into your pouty mouth, reaching around his back to grab the vines he had earlier, wiping his own drool from his mouth with the swipe of his other arm, returning it back on your head to gag on his dick.

"Steady Y/n, up and down, you can go further than that don't tap put on me.." He went on, leaning up to place the vine around youfr head, grabbing the other end shoving your head forward causing you to cough and gag to the point where you had to fight back against his strength only to be shoved back down over and over.

"Move your fucking hand, move it! Ho-ly fuck just like that! Pounding into this sloppy hole you call a mouth, yeah you won fair and fucking...square.." He panted, thrusting up and he held on tight to vines bouncing your throat to match his heavy strokes inside of your expanding esophagus.

All of your moans sounded like muffled cries yet the way your eyes rolled to the back of your skull and his tip puncturing your uvula, this was one of the best adventures Caine could've thought of, yet he didn't.

You were enjoying Jax's adventure.

Throating him like he had a way to find the exit.

Your tongue lolled out of your mouth giving him easier access to fuck your throat stupid, his moans filled your ears and the greenish brown background of the forest, whimpering as his balls struck your chin repeatedly quickly turning his whimpers into sexed out laughs as they began tighten up signaling he was ready to finish what he started.

But he was far from done with you.

"You're such a slut...I loveeee it! Come on cupcake..show me what this mouth is for.."

You gargled in response, moaning as he slowed down his thrusts, pumping thick, hot loads of his cum deep inside of your throat, feeling like he stuffed your stomach full. He fucked his cum further, stopping to allow his dick to twitch inside, crying out your name with another crack in his tone, causing your cunt to squeeze tight.

With your eyes tucked in the back of your skull due to his taste and how hard he ricocheted your head into his bush, there was no time to process just how fast he moved the vines from your head to tying your arms behind your back, flipping you over onto your stomach to expose your filthy pussy still covered in a mixture of his saliva and your slick.

"You wanted this just as bad..oh my god.." He murmured to himself, taking his fingers to collect a sample, putting them in his mouth before going back in to push past your swollen pussy lips. Both of you groaned out as his fingers stretched your walls with each pump, he had your face planted into the dirt and your ass in the air while you softly pressed your hips back to dare him to add another.

"Barely anything, look at you being so goddamn needy, c'mon keep fucking these fingers. I won't even need to fuck you.." He huffed, teasing your sensitive clit with a third finger.

You whined to him in response, allowing your walls to shudder on his digits, the creamy evidence you left behind on his hand became more prominent as he continued, yet the feeling pooling inside the deepest parts of your stomach faded away. It stopped completely, but was quickly replaced by Jax lifting you up by your sides like you were nothing, sliding your now prepped cunt onto his slightly curved length, feeling those two prominent veins rub along your silky walls.

"J-ax! Shit! It's been so long.." You trailed off, your legs shivering while he groaned in pure esctasy sending another thrust inside of you, sending that feeling across your body.

"I....Know...Y/n..so fucking long.." He spoke with his sloppy yet accurate thrusts, piercing that g spot over and over as you gave Jax exactly what he'd been wet dreaming about.

"Where did she go? Where's that spunk you had huh?" He growled once more through his teeth, bracing himself as your cunt began to swallow all 8 inches with a tight squeeze.

"F-Fuck you..oh my god I can't stand....stand.."

"Awwww look at you...my cock got you- brainless like that? Huh? How long has it been since you've been thinking about bouncing on this dick like this?"

"No...Nnonono ohhh fuckk yesss!"

"Which one is it?" He grinned, pumping his hips up from underneath, his eyes trailing down to you wriggling around in the vine restraints he put you in, tugging at them a bit too hard causing them to break yet he took a hold of your wrists to keep them behind you, fucking up into you at a faster pace.

"Shutttt the...ouuu please.." You muffled your own whimpers catching your words as Jax's dick protruded out of your stomach, allowing you to see just how deep he truly was. You messy cunt drooled all over his bushy length, lubricating his heavy balls, lightly grazing your clit with each bounce.

"Plllleasseee?" He taunted. "Please what? I wanna hear it y/n let me hear what this dick is doing to you. Beg me to fill this pussy like it needs to be..go gossip to them about this shit.." He went on, pulling out of you so he could push your face back into the ground, immediately inserting himself back into your greedy cunt, snapping his hips at a ridiculous pace.

"Jjjjjjaaaaxxxx pppllllmmmm."

The mufffled words fell from your lips and all you got in return was a chuckle from the feral rabbit. He was on his knees with one hand on your back and the other grabbing a hold of the back of your neck to yank you up to hear all of your precious screams.

"You..found me first soo fucking what...what are you gonna do about it?" Jax panted, another whine trapped in his throat as his hips stammered inside of your draining cunt, you bounced your hips back with all of the remaining energy you had, with drool pouring out of your mouth from the hazy feeling he kept giving.

You placed your hands firmly on the ground, shoving your ass back onto his girthy length, earning a couple of smacks to your skin, wincing from the stinging pain, yet it only fueled your fire.

"Make you...cum first.." You huffed.

"You're already sucking the life outta me, come on cupcake don't be a sore loser..let it all outtt for me..hah...shit! SHIT!"

"Cum deep in this pussy Jax..please?" You cooed in a taunting manner, turning your head back to look at the bushy haired maniac, his eyes dilated and scattered. You felt his dick tremble inside of your walls and your own sex not too far from crashing down itself.

You didn't know much longer you could hold it in.

He leaned down to dig his teeth into the back side of your neck hard enough to cause you to scream out, loud enough for another group of NPC birds to fly out across the cloudy moonlight. You cursed his name and still kept up with his rhythm, the sounds of your skin plopping against his, a sound that felt so taboo, so real.

"Don't stop pleasepleaseplease!"

"Gonna make me cum like that? Like that? Oh god.." He whined in your ear. "You're not fucking fair..not fair I'm gonna...I'm hhhahhhhh fuck! Fuck!" He cried out, his sporadic thrusts coming to a harsh halt while his cum stained the insides of your twitching walls white.

Jax's tip kissed the opening of your cervix as your cunt shot out a heavy stream of your cum over his messy stomach, earning a nasty groan from both of you.

"Ohhhhh my goodddd! I can't...can't stop cummming! Hoooo fuck!"

"Make it come out of my mouth.." You slurred on your own spit, humping his cock before he pulled out with a nasty squelch sound, leaning back against the tree as cum still spurted out of his swollen hot tip, it was almost pink from the sensitivity.

You crawled around to face him, looking at his legs spread wide and his overalls still snug around his ankles.

"We're not done..uh un..I won right?"

"Sh-Shut up..You've got my cum still dripping out of you.."

"You're still cumming.." You hummed, inching closer to him gouing in to lick a hot stripe up his base, his whimpers coating your ears with bliss.

"Hah! Y/n don't touch.."

You ignored his pathetic noises and blew on his tip, watching it fling around before gripping his length, standing up to straddle him, pushing his cum covered dick back inside, looking into his huge yellow eyes as they fluttered from the feeling of your overstimulated pussy vibrating against him.

"So thick...so full. Isn't this what you wanted Jax?" You spoke through your own moans, sucking in a breath once his tip broke past that barrier, fitting so snugly inside of your cervix.

"Take your prize..fuck me stupid.." You mewled, taking one hand to grab one of his ears and the other to rest on his shoulder, plopping your hips up and down his now creamy white shaft.

"Such a fucking tease.." He whined, placing his hands on your ass, grabbing hard enough to leave indents of his fingers in your skin. A small smirk appeared on your face once you got the grand idea to return the favor, leaning forward to take a huge chunk out of his neck, listening to his voice crack again in his throat and his hips thrust up with a bit more force.

"Let me clean up my mess, you feel so fucking good humping me like a-ohhhhh my goddd.." You whimpered.

"Shut....upppp!"

You paused your movements to grind your soaked pussy on his base, letting his tip poke out of your stomach once again. This time you placed your hand right over it, crossing your eyes from the slutty feeling, switching over from your knees to your feet.

"Whos really needy for it? You're a fucking mess, how long have you been fucking your pillow, wishing it was me? Let me milk you dry just like you want..tell me how warm it is.." You cooed, groaning out once you heard Jax cry out your name, sending a flock of butterflies to spread inside of your stomach, making it a little harder to keep control.

"Not..not neeedyyy."

"You're so fucking needy, you need to cum in my pussy again don't you?"

"I hate you so....sobad...I hate ohhhh my goddd y/n I hate.."

"Keep fucking me like you do.." You huffed through gritted teeth, slamming your ass down on his dick like it was the only thing you craved and it was. So many nights of you thinking that rubbing it out, making makeshift toys and ignoring it would make it all go away, brushing off his jokes no, the only thing that could satiate that horrifying itch was the man of your nightmares.

Your slutty, sloppy nightmares.

"I don't..I don't have anything left!

"Don't stop now...please oh pleasee!" You mocked him, causing a hard strike against your ass cheek to spread like fire. You took hold of his face forcing you him to get a good look at you before slowly leaning down like you were going in for a kiss but you backed away.

Only for him to lean forward to connect your lips, turning it into a sloppy, rough makeout as his hand pushed his hips down on his overstimulated length. His tongue chased yours inside of your mouth as his pulled away allowing you to play with his wet muscle before pulling back in to bite on his bottom lip, feeding you soft puppy like moans.

Judging by the way his hips stutteered underneath you, it wouldn't be long but with him whimpering in your mouth, and his bush rubbing up agaisnt your clit you werent too far behind.

"Pl-ease..."

"Again..."

"Please y/n.."

"Please....what?" You hummed with a smile, slowing down your hips no matter how hard he tried to get you to move.

"Let me..please....cum..please?" His eyes were big and soft, blinking up at you with enough desperation to make you cum on the spot. Your hard persona fell once you picked up the pace, biting your lips while he tossed his head back in pure pleasure.

"Come on baby...you can do it.." You moaned softly, taking a second to look down at Jax, taking his arms to go underneath your legs, scooping you up to hold you while he took all of the strength he had left to fuck up into you like a rabbit in heat.

"Oh-Oh my! Jax wait I- FUCK! J-axxx! Jax fuck meeee..' You growled, grabbing both of his ears trying to regain the control you immediately lost having no choice but to be split open in the middle.

"Look at me." He spat back, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes with his bottom lip tucked in between his teeth, your hazy eyes connected with his but not for long as they rolled back.

His strokes were quick, snappy and harsh, entering your cervix every time. He huffed and growled and soon enough let out a sharp cry as he pumped into you.

"So tight..so goddamn tight..i'm cumming..I can't hold- hold ...oh fuck!"

"Cum....in.....me.....please!" You screamed, feeling a single tear drop fall on your face from the slight stinging pain

"You don't fucking deserve it..you don't y/n.."

"I deserve it! I deserve it I-" Your words were interrupted by a smooth stream of your juices flowing out, yet he didn't give a fuck, he went on stroking up into your sopping wet pussy like a drill.

"Keep cumming...all over me please? Please...oh fuck..hold on to me..I'm cumming!" He stuttered with his words and his hips, still pumping his dick strongly before he pulled out, long streams of his cum still leaking out of you and his tip. His arms gave out and you unstraddled yourself to get back on your knees to let the rest of his cum squirt on your face and some on your tongue.

He took his hand to stroke himself while you placed your hand on top of his, licking the remnants off of his base with a sexed out smile.

"So pretty.." You heard him say but chose not to acknowledge. Instead, you kissed his still sensitive tip and went to go sit beside him along the tree, your chest heaving up and down, letting the afterglow effect wear off.

The sounds of bushes rustling filled your ears looking beside you to a fucked out Jax already looking at you, placing both of his hands over his face, his cheeks red from embarrassment.

"If you say a word.."

"We're not talking about this.."

".....fucking freaks..." Bubble chuckled to themselves.

Consider this my 3,000 follower special because I have to toot my own horn my goodness, it's the new year and still a coldddd season ahead of us! I hope the wait was absolutely worth it and i can convert some dolls to this side of the playhouse but as always I'll imagine with you later!

JaytheRula's birthday is tomorrow *cough cough*

-MissHoneyBlue

Tags: @the-princess-of-bimbos @pinksugared-princess @angelikconvict @itssdakidd @softspotmusher @iluvv-drpepper @nyxexcessrambles @zandria47 @muffintag @stella-and-the-stars @9kaytor7 @taonamaii-anarchy @lilithrosexoxo

[parasiticheart]

ways sex can be improved:

- clothes on

- no penetration

- dry humping

[kkunai]

𝜗ৎ older bf!gojo doesn’t like it when your thoughts drift to something else while he’s in balls deep. mlist.

satoru’s a man with a big ego. especially when it comes to his abilities in satisfying a woman—his woman. so when he notices the slightest change in your facial expression while he’s balls deep inside your pussy, he takes it as a challenge.

“thinkin’ of something else, baby?” he asks between shallow breaths, the quick thrusts of his hips never faltering. in fact, the pace only increases at your suspected distraction, “or someone else?”

you snap back into reality with a choked moan when you feel him pinch and rub your clit. you shake your head in denial, “no—i’m not—promise.”

satoru’s eyes narrow and a muscle in his jaw twitches, expression almost turning dark, before he catches himself. “y’re a really bad liar,” he chuckles breathily before he forces his lips into a small smile, “but it’s okay. i’m not mad.”

you bite your lip. he says he isn’t mad, but you can feel it in the way his movements turn harsh and erratic that he is. slightly.

you’re about to tell him that you’re just worried about your upcoming exams when he slowly comes to a full stop, a dark shadow falling over his eyes. the reassuring grin on his face slowly drops as he lets the urge take over.

that urge to fuck each and every thought out of your pretty little head so you can only focus on him.

satoru lifts your hips off the mattress, pulling your cunt flush to the base of his dick as he sits back on his haunches. “‘toru, wait! fuck!” you squeal and your eyes roll back as his own hips start surging forward in sharp and deep thrusts.

the older man smirks down at you, both hands on either side of your waist as he holds your lower body steady and up on his pistoning cock.

“nah. i’m not waitin’—not until i’m sure that all my girl’s thinking of is this fuckin’ dick. nothing else.”

[sukurena-deactivated20260124]

･ ⟢ ⋮ synopsis . . . you go over to your best friend yuji’s house for dinner… only to find his older brother sukuna is home from college for the first time in a few years. taller, tattooed, pierced, and annoyingly unreadable, he looks nothing like the boy you grew up with—and he won’t stop staring at you like you’ve changed too.

tags .ᐟ 7.1k. reader & sukuna are both in college. nsfw. best friend's other brother. oral m & f. dry hump lol. unprotected sex. creampie. missionary. size kink. dirty talk. light dom. praise kink. teasing. arm pinning. post sex teasing. kinda possessive behavior? unedited per usual, cause we don't believe in that over here !!

you’ve been in their house since you were old enough to walk. same backyard. same childhood summers. same loud dinners where yuji talked with his mouth full and sukuna pretended he wasn’t listening even though he always was.

yuji was your best friend before you even understood what best friends were. sukuna was the older one—a few grades ahead, always taller, always heavier-footed, always lurking on the edges of things like he’d been born allergic to attention.

the three of you were tangled together in that inevitable, you-grew-up-next-door kind of way. not siblings, not cousins, not childhood sweethearts. just that messy, familiar constellation of people you simply belonged to.

and then sukuna left.

not dramatically. not with some sentimental goodbye. he just packed up after graduation and went off to college out of state—far, far away—leaving you and yuji to finish growing up without him.

you didn’t think about him much after that. or at least you told yourself you didn’t.

until today.

you walk into yuji’s house the same way you always do—kicking off your shoes, calling out that you brought notes for the class he skipped again—and then you freeze.

because someone else is standing at the end of the hallway.

sukuna's home.

and looking at you like the past few years didn’t exist at all—like he just stepped out for a minute instead of vanishing into adulthood and coming back built like a warning sign.

you freeze.

because he isn’t the same person who left. not even close.

he’s taller now—like he grew an extra inch or two just to spite you. broad shoulders filling out the doorway, chest built in the intimidating way that says hours in the gym, not a single selfie to prove it. his hoodie clings to his arms in a way it never used to, sleeves shoved up to reveal thick forearms covered in black ink that wasn’t there before. sharp lines trailing up his veins and disappearing beneath cotton.

and his face—god.

there’s a new weight to it. a grown-man kind of sharpness. jawline hard enough to cut your breath in half. cheekbones more defined. his mouth softer than it should be on someone who looks like this.

plus the metal.

an eyebrow piercing splits the dark line above his left eye—subtle, but impossible to ignore. a thin silver hoop sits snug on his bottom lip, glinting every time he shifts his expression. a couple more studs line his ear, climbing the curve of cartilage in a way that draws your eyes before you can stop yourself.

he went from “yuji’s older brother who never talks” to “the man you’d cross the street for, just to look at again.”

he doesn’t say hi. doesn’t smile.

he just tilts his head a fraction, eyes dragging over you in one slow pass that feels too intimate to be accidental—like he’s comparing you to old versions in his head and finding the differences one by one.

“you got taller,” he mutters, voice deeper now, rougher around the edges.

your pulse spikes. “no i didn’t,” you say too quickly, heat crawling up your throat.

his tongue pushes against the inside of his cheek, right behind the silver hoop in his lip, and the faint sound he makes could be a laugh or a warning. you can’t tell which.

he steps closer. slowly.

the hallway shrinks around him like the walls are trying to pull away first. he’s buffer now—thick chest, defined arms, long legs moving with that confidence he never had when he was younger. his presence alone makes the air feel heavier.

“sure you didn’t,” he says, voice dropping into something low enough to curl at the base of your spine. “go on and lie to me.”

you swallow hard. “is... yuji inside?”

his eyes don’t leave yours—not even for a second. “kitchen. he’s been whining that you’re late.”

you try to step past him, but sukuna doesn’t move.

not an inch.

he stands there like a wall you’re meant to run into. like he’s doing it on purpose. like he wants to feel you brush against him, just to see what you’d do.

he’s always been like this—annoyingly still, annoyingly composed, annoyingly aware of how much space he takes up.

but now?

he’s all that, plus the tattoos, plus the muscle, plus the piercings, plus the kind of grown-man weight that makes your breath hitch.

you barely manage to slip past sukuna—your shoulder brushing his chest as you squeeze through the hallway. he doesn’t move, doesn’t step aside, doesn’t even pretend to give you space. he just watches you go, silent and heavy-eyed, like he’s cataloguing the way your breath stutters when you pass him.

you pretend you don’t notice. you pretend a lot of things. you step into the kitchen with a too-bright smile, dropping your bag onto the counter.

“ok,” you exhale, forcing lightness into your voice, “lecture notes time.”

yuji lights up like you just handed him free money. “finally! dude, this professor hates me, i swear.”

you snort. “he doesn’t hate you, he just knows you don’t shut up in class.”

yuji splutters, offended, and launches into a rant about how the classroom was “way too quiet” without him and how he’s basically “providing a public service.” you roll your eyes. you’ve missed this.

you spread out your notebooks on the table, walking him through everything he missed—slides, examples, the weird tangent your professor went on about life choices and statistics. yuji listens, nodding furiously, asking questions in the loudest voice anyone has ever used in a kitchen.

it’s normal. comfortable. easy.

but your head?

not easy. not comfortable.

because you can’t stop thinking about the man standing in the hallway.

the way sukuna looked at you like he was trying to match this version of you to the one he left behind.

the way he took up the entire hallway without trying. the way the metal in his lip caught the light. the tattoos. the build. the voice.

you try focusing on the material. you really do.

but yuji is halfway through copying something when you completely lose your train of thought, brain short-circuiting at the memory of sukuna stepping closer, the hallway shrinking around him, his arm brushing yours.

“uh… hello?” yuji waves a hand in front of your face. “earth to braincell.”

you blink. “sorry, i—just tired.”

“you should be! bro, you’ve been explaining this for like an hour.” yuji glances at the clock. “holy crap, it’s actually been an hour.”

you laugh, rubbing your eyes. it has gotten later than you thought. the sun’s gone down, the kitchen’s dimmer, warmer. the house feels too quiet.

yuji scratches his cheek and looks sheepish. “hey… uh… you wanna stay for dinner? i was gonna make something anyway, and it’s already late.”

stay.

the word sinks in. you open your mouth out of habit to decline—because you always do, because you have homework, because you’re busy—but you don’t say no.

because you know who else is here. who else you’ll end up near. who else is still lingering somewhere in this house with a pierced lip and a stare that won’t get out of your head.

you swallow. “yeah. sure. i can stay.”

yuji brightens again. “sweet! i’ll throw something together.”

you nod, biting back a smile as he rummages through the fridge.

you tell yourself it’s just dinner. just catching up. just a normal night. but your pulse tells a different story.

you don’t know what game sukuna’s playing now that he’s home…

…but you’re pretty sure he expects you to play it too.

yuji is humming to himself as he cooks—off-key, loud, cheerful in the way only he can be. pans clatter, spices get overused, something sizzles a little too aggressively, but it’s comforting.

you sit at the kitchen table, chin resting on your hand, pretending to scroll your phone. pretending to be normal.

but your ears are tuned to the hallway.

and when you hear slow, heavy footsteps approaching, your breath catches in your throat before you can stop it.

you don’t need to look to know who it is.

sukuna enters the kitchen like he owns the space—tall, broad, tattooed arms visible where he shoved his sleeves up again. his lip ring catches the warm kitchen light as he presses his tongue against it, like he’s distracting himself from saying something.

or from staring.

he doesn’t say anything right away. he just pulls out a chair. right across from you, of course.

your heartbeat jumps. you’re grateful yuji is too busy murdering whatever’s in the frying pan to notice anything weird.

sukuna sits slowly, legs spread under the table like he’s claiming territory. his posture is relaxed—leaned back, arms loose—but his eyes?

fixed on you.

not soft nor nostalgic—but assessing and curious in a way that makes goosebumps rise on your arms.

you try to look away first. you don’t succeed.

he breaks the silence with a low, too-casual, “he’s really makin’ you do his classwork for him?”

you blink. “i’m not—i’m just helping him catch up.”

he hums under his breath, that amusement back in his voice, coating every syllable in something mocking. “helpin’ him, huh. you always were too nice.”

“am not,” you mutter.

“yeah,” he says, leaning forward just a little. “you are.”

your stomach flips in a way you refuse to acknowledge.

before you can snap back, yuji turns around with triumph in his eyes and a plate in each hand.

“dinner is SERVED,” he declares proudly.

you and sukuna both watch the plate hit the table with a little too much force.

“you didn’t burn anything this time,” sukuna notes.

“shut up, bro,” yuji grins.

bro.

right. they’re brothers. the kind with the same house and the same history but completely different worlds carved out inside them.

yuji sits beside you—your usual seating arrangement—leaving sukuna directly across from you.

it’s torture.

you try to focus on dinner, but the food tastes like nothing. you’re too aware of the man in front of you. of the way his hand dwarfs his fork. of the tattoos that crawl up his veins, ink meeting sinew. of the metal on his face catching light every time he shifts. of the quiet way he eats—unlike yuji, who practically inhales his food.

at some point, sukuna leans back, eyes still on you, elbow resting on the back of his chair. he doesn’t speak. doesn’t interrupt yuji’s excited retelling of a stupid class story.

he just watches you. until you squirm.

you hate that he sees it. you drop your gaze to your plate.

but then, under the table—something brushes your ankle. you jolt subtly, knee bumping the underside of the table.

yuji doesn’t notice, but sukuna smiles. a slow smile that feels like it’s meant to unravel you one string at a time.

he doesn’t pull away.

his foot stays there—resting against yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

you try to move your foot back. he follows. pressing gently.

your breath stutters. your fork pauses mid-air.

“you okay?” yuji asks through a mouthful of food.

“fine,” you choke.

sukuna’s eyes drop to your throat, watching it move as you swallow. then he tilts his head and mouths something silently—so only you can see it.

don’t run.

your heart slams. you force yourself to finish your meal, though you don’t taste a damn thing.

yuji finally exhales loudly, rubbing his stomach. “okay, i’m gonna grab the drinks—don’t eat my dessert while i’m gone.”

he gets up and disappears into the fridge.

the moment he’s out of earshot, the tension in the room snaps tight.

sukuna leans forward just slightly, voice low enough that it feels like a touch on your skin.

“you’re real bad at hiding shit,” he murmurs.

you grip your fork. “hiding what?”

he raises a brow. “the way you’ve been lookin’ at me since you walked in.”

your breath falters.

he smiles. “didn’t look at me like that when i left.”

you want to deny it. you want to throw something at him. you want to run.

instead, all you manage is a tiny, pathetic, “…shut up.”

his eyes soften for half a second—amusement, victory, something else you can’t name—and then he drags his foot lightly up your calf under the table.

your pulse jumps.

yuji returns a moment later, completely oblivious, carrying three drinks like he’s hosting a banquet.

“okay! i got—hey, why are you two so quiet?”

you choke. “no reason.”

sukuna doesn’t even try to hide his smirk.

yuji doesn’t even make it to dessert.

one minute he’s talking through a mouthful of food, and the next he’s curled sideways on the couch in the living room, face pressed into a pillow, snoring softly like someone unplugged him mid-sentence.

you stare at him for a second and sigh. “…he lasted longer than usual.”

from behind you, sukuna’s voice is low and way too entertained. “don’t give him that much credit.”

you ignore the way your stomach flutters and start clearing the plates, stacking yours on top of yuji’s, gathering forks, pushing crumbs into your palm. it feels safer to have your hands busy—something to do besides think about sukuna or how his eyes followed you all dinner.

the kitchen is dimmer now, warm under the stove light. quiet except for the clink of dishes. yuji’s muffled snoring drifts in from the living room. the air feels thick, heavy with end-of-night softness.

you bend over to load the dishwasher, reaching for a plate on the bottom rack…

…and that’s when you hear them.

slow footsteps behind you.

you feel him before he speaks—heat at your back, the faint brush of air as he exhales, the subtle shift of the room around someone as big as him.

“you really doing the dishes?” he says, voice low enough to curl behind your ear. “yuji’s not even awake to witness it.”

you roll your eyes at the plate in your hand. “i’m being nice.”

“you always were.”

your stomach dips.

you reach farther into the dishwasher, bending a little more, muttering, “it’s fine, i don’t mind—”

that’s when it happens.

you feel it—a slow nudge at your backside. a hip bump. not subtle. nowhere near being accidental. you gasp and straighten halfway before you even think about it.

“the fuck—?”

you turn, and sukuna is standing right behind you, way too close, one eyebrow piercing lifting as he drags his hips back a couple inches… only to roll them forward again—slow, exaggerated, mocking in the rudest possible way.

a fucking air-hump. right into your ass.

you choke on your own breath. “what—what are you doing?” you hiss, eyes wide, hands still gripping a fork like you’re about to duel him with it.

“correcting your form,” he says casually, gesturing at the dishwasher. “you’re bendin’ like you want attention.”

“i was not bending like that,” you whisper harshly.

he steps forward half an inch—just enough to feel the heat of him against your back.

“you kinda were,” he murmurs.

your pulse hits dangerous levels.

you turn to shove him away—at least that’s the plan—but he catches your wrist, grip firm but not tight, eyes dropping to your mouth for a split second before flicking back up like he didn’t mean to.

“relax,” he says, voice dropping into something warm, amused, and infuriatingly soft. “if i wanted to actually fuck with you, sweetheart… you’d know.”

your knees nearly give out. you pretend they don’t.

you rip your hand back. “yuji’s in the next room.”

sukuna lifts a brow. “and?”

you glare. “so don’t be an asshole.”

“can’t help it.” he leans closer, voice brushing your neck. “you bring it outta me.”

you swallow hard, turning back to the dishwasher because looking at him is dangerous.

he watches you for a moment with a silent, heavy gaze, dragging across your back as you finish stacking plates.

then you feel his breath near your ear again. “finish up,” he murmurs, something darker slipping into his tone. “i’m not done with you.”

you grip the dishwasher door until your knuckles ache. and yuji keeps snoring, completely unaware that his older brother is behind you, smirking like he knows exactly how fast your heart is pounding.

you wipe your hands on the dish towel, fingers still slightly trembling from whatever the hell that “airhump” was supposed to be. you tell yourself it was stupid, meaningless, not worth thinking about—and then your stomach twists, proving you wrong immediately.

yuji is passed out on the couch, one arm over his face, snores muffled by the pillow he stole from your house. his soft breathing fills the otherwise quiet house, the kind of nighttime silence that makes everything else feel louder. heavier.

you sling your bag over your shoulder, take a steadying breath, and tell yourself you’re fine. you survived dinner. you survived sukuna staring at you like he was trying to decide whether to devour you or laugh at you. you can survive saying a polite goodnight.

you move down the hallway, footsteps soft on the carpet. you pass the bathroom, the closet, the familiar creak in the floorboard near yuji’s door, and then—you reach sukuna’s room.

you only mean to look in. just a glance. just a “later” or a “bye.”

you don’t even get that far.

a hand wraps around your wrist and yanks—not painfully, but efficiently, like he’s practiced the motion a thousand times. you stumble forward, and before you can catch your balance, he pulls you into his room and shuts the door with a quiet, final click.

your back hits the wall. not hard. just enough that you gasp, the shock traveling all the way to your knees. when you blink up, sukuna is standing inches from you, one hand braced beside your head, the other still loosely around your wrist as if waiting to see if you’ll run.

his room smells like soap and darker elements—cedar, smoke, warm skin. it hits you all at once, settling under your ribs, making it far too hard to breathe normally.

“you were really gonna leave without saying anything to me?” he asks, voice almost amused.

“i—i didn’t wanna wake yuji,” you manage, even though you’re suddenly very aware of the fact that you can’t look him in the eyes without feeling too much.

“that so?” he murmurs, leaning in just slightly. “’cause you walked past my door real fast. almost like you were trying to escape.”

you try to step to the side, but he shifts with you, blocking the one direction you might’ve slipped away. his body doesn’t press into you, but it hangs close enough that you feel the heat of him, the quiet intensity that wasn’t there when he was younger. everything about him feels deliberate now. intentional.

“i wasn’t escaping,” you say softly. “i was leaving.”

“mm.” he tilts his head just a little, eyes dragging over your face. “and here i thought you’d at least say bye before running.”

“i wasn’t runni—”

“you were.” the faintest smile tugs at the corner of his mouth before he adds, “you still do that.”

you swallow hard. “do what?”

sukuna’s gaze slides from your eyes to your lips, lingering there for a heartbeat too long. “get shy.”

the breath you take isn’t steady. not even close. he notices—of course he notices—and his fingers release your wrist only to settle at your waist instead, warm and sending a rush of awareness straight through your core.

“i’m not shy,” you whisper, even though your whole body betrays you.

his smile grows—not cocky, but like he just solved some puzzle that only he was working on. “yeah,” he says, voice dropping, lips brushing the edge of your cheekbone as he speaks, “you are.”

his hand slides up your hip, light but purposeful, guiding you just the slightest bit closer until his chest nearly touches yours. only an inch of air separates your bodies, and it’s unbearable.

“you didn’t look at me like that when i left,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your jaw.

“like what?” it comes out barely audible.

“like you want me to kiss you.”

your stomach drops. your face heats. your throat tightens with something impossible to name. you almost deny it—you should deny it—but the words won’t come.

and something in your silence tells him everything.

sukuna’s thumb traces the line of your jaw, slow enough to make your breath catch. “say it,” he whispers.

you shake your head. your heart is pounding too fast to speak.

“didn’t think so,” he says, eyes half-lidded. “good thing i don’t need you to.”

before you can react, he closes the distance—letting you feel every second of it. his mouth brushes yours once, soft, testing. your breath rises sharply. he waits, like he’s giving you a chance to pull away.

you don’t.

your fingers curl into the front of his hoodie, pulling him closer without thinking, and that’s all it takes. sukuna kisses you fully then—deep, warm, devastatingly slow. the kind of kiss that feels like it’s been many years overdue. the kind that steals your breath so quietly you don’t notice until you’re gasping into him.

he hums against your mouth, one hand sliding to the back of your neck, tipping your head the way he wants, his lips moving against yours with ease that makes your knees weak.

when he finally breaks the kiss, he stays close, forehead brushing yours, breaths mingling. “there you go,” he murmurs, voice roughened by restraint. “finally got you to stop pretending.”

your eyes flutter open.

his are already on you, hungry for the next bite.

“you should’ve said goodbye earlier,” he adds softly. “i wouldn’t have let you leave.”

the first kiss is nothing compared to the second.

the moment he hears your breath hitch right against his mouth—sukuna cups the side of your neck, fingers sliding under your jaw, and pulls you back into him. no hesitation this time. no testing. he kisses you like he’s been denying himself the thought of it for years and finally gave in.

your back presses harder into the wall as his mouth moves against yours—slow at first, savoring, learning every tiny sound you make. his lips part just enough to taste you, and when your tongue brushes his, something low and electric shoots through both of you.

he makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat. you feel it more than hear it.

his free hand slides to your waist, then your hip, then down to the curve of your thigh, gripping just enough to pull you up into his kiss. your hands rise on instinct, fists curling in the fabric of his hoodie, anchoring yourself to him like you’re afraid you’ll fall.

you don’t even realize you’re trembling until he notices.

“easy,” he murmurs against your mouth, voice low, impossibly gentle for someone who looks like him. “breathe.”

you try. you fail.

and he clearly likes it.

he catches your wrists when you try to pull him closer, fingers wrapping around both, guiding your hands up over your head and pressing them into the wall above you. the movement is slow, controlled, the kind you could fight if you wanted to… but you don’t.

you let him pin you there, wrists held in one of his hands, bodies flush, heat rolling between you in waves.

“that’s better,” he whispers, lips brushing your cheekbone as he drags a kiss down to your jaw. “keep ’em there.”

your breath stutters again, a soft, pathetic little exhale you can’t swallow down fast enough. he hears it. he smiles against your skin.

“knew you’d be like this,” he whispers. “knew it.”

he kisses your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your mouth—then dips lower, to the side of your neck. his lips are warm at first, barely pressure, barely there… and then he sucks.

your knees threaten to buckle. he feels it, and pushes his thigh between yours—not hard, just enough to keep you standing, enough to drag a shaky breath out of you.

“still shy?” he asks against your throat.

you shake your head, even though you definitely are.

he laughs quietly, the sound rumbling into your skin, before kissing lower—along the line of your neck, down your shoulder, back up again like he’s mapping you with his mouth.

your hands flex uselessly against the wall, wrists pinned in his grip. you can’t touch him. can’t pull him closer. can’t do anything except feel him.

and he takes full advantage.

he kisses up the column of your neck, slow and unhurried, until he reaches your ear.

his breath is warm when he speaks. “come here.”

he lets go of your wrists only so he can slip his hands around your waist and lift you—not fully off the ground, just enough that your balance shatters. he turns you easily, guiding you away from the wall and toward the bed behind him.

your back hits the mattress before you fully process the movement. sukuna stands over you for a moment, chest rising and falling, eyes dark, pupils blown.

you’ve never seen him look at anything the way he’s looking at you now. he leans down, bracing one knee on the bed, caging you in with his body.

“been thinkin’ about this all night,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair off your cheek before kissing you again—deeper this time, slower. “the way you looked at me… the way you kept pretending you weren’t.”

your fingers finally find his hoodie, grabbing it, pulling him down until he’s almost on top of you.

his hand slides up your thigh, over your hip, across your stomach, leaving heat everywhere he touches.

your breath is shaky, your heart out of control.

“just say it,” he whispers against your mouth. “say you want me.”

you don’t say it, but you kiss him like you do. and he takes that as an answer.

his hoodie comes off first.

you don’t even realize you’re tugging at it until he shifts, helping you peel it up over his head, revealing a solid, cut chest inked in black—tattoos wrapping his torso like armor, crawling up his sides and disappearing into the shadows of his collarbone.

he looks unreal in the low light, all sharp lines and sculpted heat, muscle flexing as he braces his hands on either side of you.

your eyes trail down without permission. the slope of his chest, the flex in his abs when he exhales, the deep cut of his hips narrowing into the waistband of his sweats. his lip glints when he smiles—barely there, cocky, knowing.

“that look better than you imagined?”

your breath catches. “shut up.”

his smile widens. “you didn’t say no.”

he leans down again—kisses you slow. your hands map over his chest now, feeling the warmth of him, the weight, the way he moves under your palms. he groans low when your nails scrape lightly across his abs.

“you tryna kill me, sweetheart?”

you grin against his mouth. “maybe.”

he chuckles. he kisses you again, this time harder, his tongue sliding against yours until you’re gasping. then his mouth moves down—neck, collarbone, sternum—lips dragging over skin like he’s starving for every inch.

his hands find the hem of your shirt. “this comes off,” he says, already tugging it up.

you arch slightly to help him. the shirt lands somewhere behind you. his eyes rake over your chest, and you swear he breathes deeper just looking at you.

“fuck,” he murmurs, mouth already lowering. “i missed a lot.”

he wraps his lips around the swell of your breast, tongue flicking once before he sucks. you jolt, hips twitching, a gasp spilling out of you before you can stop it. his teeth graze, soft but suggestive, before he switches sides—mouth worshiping, hands roaming your waist and hips like he’s trying to memorize you by touch alone.

“kuna—” your voice cracks. “s-stop teasing.”

he laughs against your skin. “thought you were shy.”

you shove at his shoulder. “not that shy.”

his eyes flash. “good.”

his hand slips down—under your waistband, fingers pressing between your thighs through your underwear. his touch is warm, rough, perfect.

you jolt. “oh my—”

“that’s more like it,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours again as he starts to rub slow circles over the damp fabric. “been wondering how you’d sound.”

your fingers dig into his arm, your hips lifting instinctively, chasing the rhythm of his hand. he watches you—fascinated, like he’s trying to sear the image into memory.

he drags the fabric aside and sinks a finger in. your mouth drops open, a soft, choked sound escaping. he groans low in his chest, eyes darkening.

“fuck, you’re soaked.”

you can’t answer. can’t think. can barely breathe.

he pumps his finger slow, then adds another—stretching you just enough to burn, just enough to make you whimper and clutch the sheets.

“that’s it,” he murmurs. “take it. knew you could.”

your hips stutter. he curls his fingers, and your whole body lights up.

“kuna—please—”

“what do you want, baby?” his mouth is at your ear again, tongue flicking the shell before he nips at it. “want me to keep playing with you? want more?”

you nod frantically. “yes—yes, more, i want—”

“say it.”

you whine, breathless. “i want you.”

he pulls his fingers out and licks them clean, eyes locked on yours. “good girl.”

he shifts lower like he’s been waiting all night to get between your thighs.

your breath catches when he drags your pants down alongside your underwear, slow enough to make you feel every inch of the fabric leaving your skin. he tosses them somewhere behind him without looking—eyes locked, laser-focused, hungry in a way that makes your whole body throb.

he spreads your knees with two fingers hooked behind them, guiding you open until you feel exposed in a way that isn’t embarrassing—just intimate. like he’s letting you know he wants all of you, every inch, every tremble, every breath.

“look at you,” he whispers, voice dark with awe that he’d never say out loud. “fuck.”

his thumb drags up your inner thigh, slow, reverent, as if he’s got all the time in the world and he’s choosing to spend every second right here.

you feel the heat of his breath first—right where you want him—before you feel his mouth.

he kisses the inside of your thigh, once, twice, lips warm, breath shaky like he’s the one barely holding it together. his fingers press into your skin like he’s steadying himself.

“been thinking about this,” he murmurs, kissing closer, “since dinner.”

your toes curl. “k-kuna…”

“shh.” he smiles against your skin. “i’m getting there.”

he moves in slowly, purposefully, hands sliding under your thighs to pull you closer to the edge of the bed. the motion is smooth, easy—he’s strong enough that he barely has to try. your breath skips.

his thumbs spread you open. his eyes drop.

he groans. audibly. “fuck… you’re perfect.”

and then he lowers his head.

his tongue slides through your folds in a slow, deliberate lick that makes your whole body jolt off the bed. your hand flies to his hair without permission, fingers threading through the soft strands as you gasp.

he groans again, deeper this time, like the taste of you just punched the air out of his lungs.

“shit, sweetheart,” he mumbles against you, voice muffled. “no wonder you were actin’ shy.”

he licks again—long, slow, savoring every inch—and you swear your vision fades at the edges.

you’re shaking. your thighs tense around his head instinctively, but he just smirks against you and presses them wider.

“keep ‘em open,” he murmurs, tongue dipping lower. “lemme eat.”

and then—then he really gets into it.

his mouth latches onto your clit, sucking gently, tongue flicking in a rhythm that feels too good too fast—your back arches, hands flying to the sheets.

“kuna—fuck—”

he moans like your voice is feeding him. the vibration makes your hips jerk.

he slides two fingers back inside you at the same time his tongue circles your clit—slow, curling right against that spot that makes your stomach twist.

your gasp turns into a broken whine.

“yeah,” he grunts softly, pumping his fingers deeper, “right there, huh? that’s where you start shaking?”

you whimper. that’s all it takes. he chuckles into you—a hot, smug, god of a sound—and curls his fingers harder.

your thighs tremble. “i’m—i’m gonna—”

“good,” he growls, dragging his tongue up before sucking your clit into his mouth again. “give it to me.”

your hand clamps around his hair. your whole body goes tight, and then you break.

your orgasm crashes through you so violently you cry out, thighs shaking uncontrollably around his head. sukuna doesn’t pull away. he holds you there, mouth working you through every wave, swallowing every sound you make.

“that’s it,” he whispers when you finally slump back, breathless, shaky. “good fuckin’ girl.”

you’re panting, still trembling as he kisses the inside of your thigh again, slow and soft now, letting you come down.

but he doesn’t move away. he crawls up your body, mouth warm, breath hot, chest brushing yours as he hovers above you.

he grabs your jaw gently, thumb rubbing your lower lip as he leans in, lips ghosting yours but not kissing yet.

“think you’re done?” he murmurs.

you stare at him, flushed, breath shallow. “i—i don’t know—”

his mouth curls into a slow grin. “you’re nowhere fuckin’ close.”

he kisses you finally—letting you taste yourself on his tongue, letting you feel exactly what he plans to do to you next. his hand wraps around your thigh, dragging it up around his hip.

you feel him—hard and heavy against you through his sweats. your skin burns with it. he doesn’t even have to move and you’re already clenching around nothing.

“‘m not stopping,” he murmurs against your mouth, voice low enough to vibrate in your chest. “til you beg.”

he catches your stare, eyes narrowing slightly like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. then he shifts back onto his heels and leans against the wall beside the bed, thighs spread wide, hand dragging down the front of his sweats.

your breath catches. he palms himself slow, watching you.

“c’mere,” he says, nodding down. “if you’re gonna be a brat about it, least you can do is put that mouth to use.”

your stomach flips.

you slide down to the floor, onto your knees between his legs, palms resting on his thighs. he watches you with heavy-lidded eyes, pupils blown wide, jaw tense like he’s holding himself back from saying something filthy.

you hook your fingers in the waistband of his sweats and pull them down just enough to free him.

your mouth parts.

he’s thick. flushed and heavy at the tip, veins trailing up the length, a glisten of precum already beading at the head. He wraps a hand around the base and gives it one lazy stroke before tapping it against your lips.

“open up.”

you do. immediately.

you wrap your lips around the tip and suck—slow, dragging your tongue over the underside. his groan is immediate,.

“fuck, that’s it,” he grits. “take it slow—lemme feel that tongue.”

you do.

you move down, inch by inch, working him deeper. spit pools at the corner of your mouth, his cock stretching your lips, pressing hot against your tongue. your hand wraps around what you can’t fit, stroking in time with your mouth.

his hand slides into your hair, not forcing—just holding, thumb brushing your cheekbone every time you take him a little deeper.

“you’re so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he mutters, voice ragged. “mouth full of cock, eyes all glassy—shit.”

you moan around him, and he bucks, hips twitching.

“you like that, huh?” he pants. “like suckin’ me while your pussy’s still throbbing from bein’ teased?”

you nod, tongue flicking over the tip when you come up for air. your lips are swollen, your chin wet, your breath shallow.

he grunts, tightening his fist in your hair. “shit—gonna cum if you keep that up—” and then he pulls you off, panting.

you blink, confused, lips parted.

“no,” he rasps. “not yet.”

he drags you up by your arms, effortlessly. his mouth already finding yours again as he pushes you back onto the bed. his cock, still slick with your spit, presses against your inner thigh.

“wanna cum inside you,” he murmurs between kisses, “wanna watch your face when i do.”

your breath stutters.

he parts your thighs with both hands, wide and greedy, and settles between them, cock dragging over your entrance—just once, just enough to make you gasp.

then he pushes in. stretching you open inch by inch until he bottoms out, forehead pressed to yours, breath ragged in your ear.

your back arches off the bed. your nails dig into his biceps. he’s so deep.

“fuck,” he groans. “this pussy—always meant to be mine.”

you gasp, hands scrambling to hold him closer.

his hand catches your jaw, tilting your head just slightly so he can see every shift in your expression.

“eyes on me,” he whispers. “wanna see you fall apart.”

and then he starts to move. his hips roll into yours with control that makes your toes curl—his cock dragging against every spot inside you, his mouth brushing yours every time he thrusts in.

“look at you,” he pants, kissing your cheek, your jaw, your mouth. “already fucked out and i haven’t even gotten started.”

you whimper, thighs shaking around his hips. “kuna—”

he hushes you with a kiss, and keeps fucking you through it, one hand curling around your waist, the other tangling in your hair.

“wanna see you cum like this,” he breathes. “right here, lookin’ at me. fallin’ apart on my cock.”

you’re already close. he knows.

his hips drag back just enough to make you whimper, then roll forward again, deep and heavy, grinding the base of his cock against your clit each time.

“you feel that?” he murmurs against your mouth. “feel how deep i am?”

you can’t answer. your eyes flutter. your thighs twitch. your breath keeps catching somewhere between your ribs and your throat.

he dips his head lower—kisses along your jaw, down your neck, tongue dragging lazily over your pulse.

“don’t go quiet now,” he growls. “wasn’t so shy with my cock in your mouth.”

your cheeks flush hotter. your hips buck up instinctively, chasing friction. he groans at the way you clench around him, hips stuttering.

“goddamn,” he mutters, pulling back to look at you. “you’re gonna cum just from this, huh? from me fuckin’ you slow and talkin’ to you?”

you nod, frantic, desperate, gasping when he changes the angle just slightly—grinding deeper, bottoming out again, your walls fluttering around him.

his hand slides down your side, firm and possessive. he grabs your thigh and pushes it up, folding you open even more, cock slipping in deeper than before.

your moan breaks right against his mouth.

“there,” he says—almost to himself. “that’s it. that’s where you like it.”

your hands clutch at his back, fingers sliding over warm skin, over shifting muscle, nails digging in when he thrusts just right again.

you feel it building. it coils low and hot, right behind your navel, pulsing with every drag of his cock, every filthy sound he makes in your ear.

he sees it too. his eyes lock on yours, dark and full of something you’ve never seen from him before—raw.

“close?” he asks, breathless.

you nod. “kuna—please—don’t stop—”

his forehead presses to yours, and he fucks you harder—still deep, but less controlled now, pace picking up.

“you gonna cum for me, baby?” he pants. “cum on my cock like a good girl?”

you nod again—choked, messy, right on the edge.

“look at me,” he growls. “when you cum, look at me.”

you do. and when he slams in one last time, angle perfect, pressure perfect—your whole body locks up.

the orgasm hits hard. your mouth falls open, breath shattering, eyes wide and glassy as you squeeze around him, wet and pulsing and uncontrollable.

“fuck—fuck,” he groans, losing rhythm. “that’s it—fuckin’ perfect—look at you—”

you cry out again, grabbing at him, trying to breathe, trying to stay conscious. he doesn’t stop moving—not until he’s right there with you.

“gonna cum inside you,” he mutters against your mouth. “want you full, dripping—”

you whimper, too far gone to answer. he thrusts once, twice—then buries himself deep and groans, low and animal, as he spills inside you.

he stays there, deep and still—chest heaving, arms shaking with the effort to keep himself from collapsing on top of you. your hands trail up his back, shaky and slow, fingertips ghosting over the ink there.

you’re both silent for a moment. just breathing. just existing. and then— “you really weren’t gonna say hi to me?” he whispers, nose brushing yours.

you blink up at him, lips swollen, voice nearly gone. “you didn’t say hi either.”

his mouth twitches. he kisses you again—softer now, longer. like he wants to keep tasting what he missed.

then he pulls out slowly, careful—and groans at the mess you’ve both made. his cum spills out of you, sticky and warm against your thighs.

he watches it. a little too long.

you shift beneath him, flushed and spent, and mumble, “you’re being weird.”

he doesn’t even look up. “you’re leaking. my work here is done.”

you slap his chest. weakly. “stop staring.”

“stop leaking.”

“kuna.”

he finally lifts his head, grinning—messy hair, flushed cheeks, smug as all hell. “don’t look at me like it’s my fault you can’t hold it in.”

you gape at him, mouth falling open. “i just got rearranged like damn ikea furniture—maybe give me five minutes?”

he laughs, head dropping to your shoulder. “you’re so dramatic,” he murmurs into your neck. “you loved it.”

you try to smack him again, but your arm flops back down instead. “shut up. i’m sore.”

“you’re gonna be more sore tomorrow.” he sounds pleased about it.

you groan, tossing your head back into the pillow. “you’re the worst.”

he hums. “mm. you came so hard you forgot your name. i think i’m the best.”

you glance down at him, raising a brow. “i did not forget my name.”

“you whimpered,” he says, kissing your collarbone. “like five times.”

“not the same thing.”

he snorts. “sounded like you were glitching.”

“i hate you.”

“you sucked my soul out through my dick twenty minutes ago.”

“okay first of all—”

“it was an honor,” he says, hand rubbing slow circles into your hip. “salute.”

you burst into laughter, and so does he.

he collapses beside you, both of you a mess—sweaty, flushed, glowing in the aftershocks and still tangled in the sheets. the room smells like sex and sweat.

his hand finds yours between the blankets.

you go quiet for a moment. breathing. existing. then—

“…so do we tell yuji or just make it weird forever?”

he groans and throws a pillow over his face. “my god, just kill me now.”

© sukurena — do not copy, repost, or translate my work !!

[madamechrissy]

"F-fuck," Satoru Gojo watches you riding Suguru Geto's cock on camera, bouncing up and down it and whining out, his huge hand stroking his veiny length up and down in time to you. "That's it, sweetheart, lemme see that pretty cunt stretch."

You gasp out hearing Satoru's voice as you sink down on Suguru’s thick cock, stretching your cunt out so good. You're moaning desperately when Suguru grips your hips, fingertips dimpling the flesh. "Satoru, she's soaking me every time you talk."

"Oh fuck I can't wait to come home," Satoru fists his cock desperately, watching your ass bounce, your cunt coating Suguru’s thick length, a creamy ring forming at the base. Fuck he is dying to be inside you again. He spits on his cock and spreads it, moaning as he watches. "You miss me?"

"So much ah! Toru..." You're gasping out when Suguru’s leaky tip hits that spongy spot in your walls - hearing Suguru’s moans in person and Satoru's on the phone is too much. "M-miss you..."

"Sugu, lick her little clit," Suguru exhales, flipping you on your back. He angles the camera so Satoru can see your pretty, puffy cunt. "Oh baby..."

"Fuck she's so pretty," Suguru murmurs, pulling out and spreading you wide. He lets Satoru see your cunt drooling from your hole, toying your clit with the tip of his tongue, barbell clicking against that twitchy clit that jumps. "Do you want Toru to lick you too, princess?"

You nod weakly, sniffling as tears of overstimulation and need fall. "Want you both to lick me please."

Suguru’s tongue laps at you, handing you the phone and your hands shake, looking at your pretty blue eyed boyfriend while your other licks your cunt. "Look at you."

"Mnh! Miss you," you whisper, arching up, watching Satoru stroke his pretty cock. "When are you coming h-home?"

"Tonight baby," god he wants to be inside you, taste your cunt on his lips, suck it right off the fingers Suguru has slotted inside your tiny hole. "He better make you cum."

"Hah," Suguru’s drowning in your arousal when you angle the camera to his best friend, long dark hair slipping across your thighs. "You know I'll make her cum for us."

Suguru angles two fingers as Satoru strokes his pretty, pink tipped cock in tandem, squelching wetness from your soppy cunt mixing with the filthy strokes of Satoru's hands. You're lost, cumming so hard you can't see, screaming out with your head falling back against the pillows.

"F-fuckkk, nghh!" You're just screaming out, shattering for both of your boyfriends now, Suguru lapping his own pre out of your cunt as Satoru cums white ropes in his palm, all three of your breaths heavy, shaky, broken.

"Sugu," Satoru's voice is hoarse now. "Take the phone from our girlfriend, and bend her over."

Suguru chuckles, doing just that, you're weakly clinging to the sheets as Satoru gets a view of your pretty cunt and ass in the air. He sucks his own cum off his fingers, moaning at the sight.

"Lemme watch you creampie that perfect little hole," Suguru is already throbbing when he videos himself sliding back in your gummy walls. "Fill her enough so I can eat it back out when I get home."

uh oh ovulationnn

[straubrrie-deactivated20260426]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ "you're doing so good for me hon . ." cowbutch!ellie ^_^

˚. ᵎᵎ ♯ tags: nsfw, smut, softdom!ellie, softtop!ellie, sub!reader, fingering, petnames, face sitting, praise, titplay . .

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

"hon, it's 6 o clock already. thought i told you to finish up." your arms dangle over the porch's railing. you've been watching ellie for the past 5 minutes as she crouches by the chicken coop, sleeves shoved up and hair tied in the messiest knot you've ever seen.

she doesn’t answer at first. just keeps scooping feed into a dented metal pan, scattering it like she’s mad at the ground. the chickens cluck around her ankles, but she barely notices.

after a second, she sighs. "they were out again," she says, voice low. "found two of 'em trying to wriggle under the fence."

you call out, your voice a bit softer this time. 'honey. come inside, you've been at it since lunch."

"yeah, well," she mutters, pushing to her feet, brushing off her knees. "farm doesn't give a damn about the time bun."

you step down one stair and sit on the step, adjusting your dress to drape over your knees. "come inside. you can finish tomorrow."

she pauses, hands on her hips, eyes flicking from the coop to you. the stubborn set of her jaw loosens just a little. like juts looking at you on the steps knocks the wind out of whatever argument she was about to make.

"you always say that," she grumbles, but it comes out tired, not annoyed.

"cmon. give yourself a break." you say softly, head tilted to the side as the sun casts a soft, warm glow on you as it sets.

she walks over to you, her steps soft and slow, her eyes squinting a bit as the sun hits her eyes. she stops at the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the railing. the fading sunlight hits her freckles, turning them gold.

"you're really gonna sit here and wait for me hon?" she asks, voice low, like she already knows the answer.

"mmhmm."

she walks up the stairs, stopping beside you as she holds her hand out, looking down at you with that stupid smile on her face.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

later that evening, you’re making dinner when a freshly showered ellie slips up behind you. her arms wrap around your waist, still warm from the water, and she lets her chin rest on your shoulder.

she leaves a trail of soft kisses which eventually turn into open mouthed kisses, going up from your shoulder blade, to your neck, to your jaw.

"hon?" you murmur, your head tilted back slightly.

"need you…" she whispered between the light, scattered kisses she kept leaving along your shoulder. her arms tightened around your waist.

her right knee perched up against your center, the hem of your jeans hitting your clit right where you needed it to be. your head jerks forward, tilted downwards as you bite back a whimper.

"..i want you. bun, i need you." her hands rub circles to your sides, her hands slipping up to tug at your bra.

"you aren't tired? you've been workin' your ass off the whole day."

she shakes her head as she pushes past your pajama's waistband. her long, warm fingers slide against your center, not pushing past yet, but feeling your moist center.

you gasp a bit as you drop the mixing spoon, the bowl clanking as it falls into the sink. your hands grip the edge of the counter, your eyes shut and your lips slightly parted.

"hon..ellie.."

"shhh..shh. i know."

her fingers finally slip past your slick, two fingers in as she pumps them in and out slowly, her lips still trailing on your neck. she pushes you against the counter slightly, her hand firmly planted on your side.

you blink hard as she continues moving her fingers in a slow, deliberate rhythm. but you gasp, your eyes shooting open as she removes her fingers.

"ellie..fuck that isn't fair. you can't do that-"

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

she presses one last kiss to your shoulder before turning you around to face her. she presses her lips against yours, her head cocking back and forth to match yours. her tongue slightly pressed at your lips.

you can feel her hands snaking to the back of your thigh. she picks you up with ease, her lips still locked onto yours. she lifts you, placing your legs to wrap around her torso.

with one free hand, she feels around the room, careful not to bump into anything as she continues kissing you. she leads you into your shared bedroom, her hands know on your back to support you.

"let me take care of you? please." she whispers.

she gently lowers you onto the bed, her hand on the mattress, one hand on your lower back. she doesn't stop kissing you, her fingers latching onto your tank top as she lifts it up. she takes it off but immediately returns to your neck.

she tugs down at your pajama shorts and kisses your stomach. she reaches for her drawer and pulls out her strap.

she puts it on, then ties her hair back, into a short messy bun.

"cmere babe." she murmurs as she sits down, leaning against the headboard.

she helps you position, spitting on her fingers before lathering it on your pussy. "nghh...hon." you hold onto her thighs for balance, your eyes shut as you keep your head down, every movement drawing a whimper or a groan from you.

she reaches for your hand. her hips moving and adjusting beneath you, you can feel the tip of the strap against you and god, it's driving you insane.

"help yourself bun." she rubs the inside of your thigh, letting you take your time.

you hesitate, thrown off by how she wanted you to work for it. you lower yourself, a soft moan leaving your lips as you felt the tip inside of you. she helps you, gently guiding your hips up and down, whispering praises.

"oh..you're so good for me. you're such a good girl, baby." she whispers.

other than soft praises, she let you work for it, work for your own pleasure. you groan, overwhelmed by need, which she caused in the first place. now she's the one laying down, letting you do it yourself. how ironic.

you moan, your head down as you hips buck, the strap hitting your g-spot just right. "babe..i'm..i'm close. fuckfuckfuck"

"i know you are..you're gonna cum aren't you? oh fuck..you're so hot. i love you. only you"

she groans under you, her hands kneading your ass.

you nod furiously, your head thrown back and your back arched. your eyes shoot open once the last bit of pleasure drives you over the edge.

"loveyou..shit..i'm..fuck. holyshit i'm gonna cum honey. honey! im gonna-"

she moves her hips ever so slightly, helping you ride out your orgasm. silky, white cum coats her strap as you drop into the middle of her legs, face slammed into the mattress as you muffle the almost pornagraphic moans you're letting out.

you don't stop moving though, still riding it gently.

"oh honey..you were so good. i love you." she whispers gently.

after a while, you lift your ass up, the strap bobbling a bit as it exits your pussy, coated in liquid.

she pulls you closer, kissing your back. you catch your breathe, but she kneads at your boobs, her fingers teasing your entrance again.

"can i?" she says, her front pressed against your back. you nod, your breathing still unsteady but you're so desperate for her you just agree.

she rubs circles against your clit, whispering frequent i love you's into your ear, because she wants you to know how much this means to her.

you whimper, your head resting on her shoulder as your legs squirm. she smiles, seeing how you react. she takes her cowboy hat, and drapes it over your head. she chuckles softly.

"my cowgirl."

she inserts one finger first, curling up ever so slightly, taking her time. she kisses your neck. "one more?.."she asks.

you nod as you bite your lip, holding onto her thighs. she inserts one more finger and a whine escapes your lips. she continues slowly pumping her fingers in out.

you shake your head, whining, your pussy can't take it anymore and your brain is nothing but fog. "no..no..ellie stop..i can't.."

she shushes you. "shh..sh..baby no. no. you can take it. you'll be such a good girl for me and you'll take it." she continues, making sure to affirm you every time she moves her fingers.

you cum again, not even 5 minutes in and you expect her to scold you, but of course she doesn't. she never does. she takes her fingers out, before licking them clean. she looks down at her lap, your slick and cum staining her pajama pants.

"hon?" her voice is soft. "sit on my face.. so you aren't tired. you can fuck my face all you want." she grins, looking up at you, tipping the cowboy hat on your head to the side.

"..i..fuck..i can't..take anymore.." you said in between ragged breathes. she rubs your side. "you can sit on me, don't move hon. just let me do the work. for you. always."

as you sit on her face, your breathing is heavy and shallow. you arch your back, feeling her lips on your entrance. she rubs your thighs as she did. she wraps her hands around your thighs and begins licking.

your tongue laps at your entrance. making sure to lick every crevasse. you whimper and whine, your eyes rolling back and your hands sprawling against her stomach.

im too braindead to finish so yes

[dykebehaviour]

too pretty to ignore

summary: you’re bratty, you’re spoiled, you keep getting under ellie’s skin - and for the first time, ellie stops pretending she hates it.

cw: bbf!ellie, mean!ellie, brat!reader, spoiled!girly!reader, teasing, jealousy, car sex, fingering & oral (r!receiving), enemies to lovers kinda ???

a/n: please ignore how the sex positions make no sense i cba to actually make them realistic :))

word count: 2.9k

there’s something about nighttime in your house that feels too big, too silent, too echoey.

maybe it’s because you grew up in a place where sound was always happening; your brother shouting at his games, your parents taking calls, ellie existing in whatever room she felt like.

you’ve always hated quiet.

and tonight the quiet is loud.

your bare feet pad down the stairs, each wooden step creaking in a way that makes your nerves jump.

your tiny pj shorts ride up more with each step, the soft cotton tank top shifting as you tug it down, though it never really stays put. the fabric is thin, almost translucent in the dim light, clinging to the curve of your chest and hips.

the house is dim except for the warm golden lamp in the living room.

and there she is.

ellie’s sprawled on the couch like she’s part of it, one arm flung over the backrest, phone held loosely in her hand, thumb scrolling with bored precision.

her hoodie is baggy, her sweatpants loose, her posture lazy in that way only someone entirely at home could manage.

she’s wearing her usual scowl, a permanent fixture that seems to deepen whenever you enter the room.

she doesn’t even look up when you reach the bottom of the stairs.

typical.

you roll your eyes and head toward the kitchen, ignoring her on purpose, because engaging with ellie will only end in her making fun of you.

and right on schedule, as your foot crosses the threshold into the kitchen, ellie’s voice slices through the silence.

“seriously?”

you stop mid-step.

you turn your head just enough to glare at her over your shoulder.

ellie finally looks at you, slowly, deliberately, her eyes dragging down your body in a way that is not subtle, not polite, not appropriate for your brother’s best friend.

the green of her eyes is sharp, assessing, and you feel a sudden, unwelcome heat bloom across your skin under her intense gaze.

she smirks, curling the corner of her mouth. “you’re gonna catch a cold. or a lawsuit.”

you scoff. “it’s my house.”

“and those are barely clothes.”

you toss your hair, nose in the air. “i don’t need your opinions on my wardrobe.”

“good,” she says, eyes still on your legs, “because they’re not opinions. they’re facts. you look like you’re auditioning for a very specific kind of movie.”

you ignore the warmth that rises up your chest.

you ignore the fact that you suddenly feel very aware of your skin.

instead you shoot back, “shut up, ellie.”

she grins.

like she’s been waiting for that.

you head into the kitchen. open the cabinet. take out the snack you’ve been craving. all while pretending ellie isn’t in the next room practically vibrating with the need to tease you again.

after a minute you come back out, packet in hand, munching as you walk.

and then you do something stupid.

you sit on the arm of the couch.

next to her.

ellie stiffens like you’ve just violated the laws of physics.

her eyes flick up slowly - untrusting, amused, confused.

“okay,” she says. “what are you doing?”

“sitting.”

“why.”

you shrug. “i felt like it.”

“since when do you feel like sitting near me?”

you shrug again, shoving a snack into your mouth.

she watches you chew.

watches you wipe crumbs off your lip.

watches you not look at her.

like you’re trying so hard to seem casual that it’s almost painful.

she stares until you finally snap, “what?”

“nothing.” a beat. “just surprised. you usually can’t stand me.”

your jaw clenches. “i don’t- i never said- shut up.”

ellie smirks. “so you can stand me tonight?”

“oh my god,” you groan, covering your face with your hands. “i- can you just- can you not be like this for five minutes?”

“no,” ellie says immediately.

you groan again.

she looks way too entertained.

after a long moment of her pretending to focus on her phone, she suddenly gets up, pockets her keys, and stretches her arms behind her head in a slow, annoyingly attractive motion.

the movement pulls the fabric of her hoodie tight across her chest, revealing the subtle definition of her shoulders.

“i’m heading out.”

your head snaps toward her. “what? why?”

“gotta pick up some weed.”

“now?”

“my plug’s only free for a bit.” she moves toward the door. “tell josh i’ll be back.”

something sharp cuts through your chest.

you hate the silence in this house.

you hate how empty it is.

you hate the way shadows pool in corners and how you’re stuck with your thoughts.

“wait- don’t go,” you blurt.

ellie freezes mid-step.

then slowly turns around.

“come again?”

you look away, cheeks hot. “just… don’t go yet.”

“are you asking me to stay?”

“don’t make a thing out of it.”

“you literally never want me here.”

“ellie.”

she stares.

hard.

like you’re some puzzle she’s trying to solve.

“…are you okay?”

you make a strangled noise. “yes! i’m fine.”

“then why are you being-” she gestures vaguely at you, “-friendly?”

you snap, “i watched something scary, okay?”

ellie brightens like it’s her birthday.

“oh, this is gonna be good.”

you glare. “i swear-”

“what was it?” she interrupts, leaning against the wall. “scream? hereditary? oh let me guess- you watched a youtube video and someone mentioned demons-”

“creep,” you snap.

ellie freezes.

then:

“…the peachfuzz one?”

you nod reluctantly.

she blinks.

she blinks again.

and then she absolutely breaks.

ellie bends over, laughing so hard she nearly slips. clutching her stomach. wheezing. tears forming.

“ohmygod- you’re-you’re scared of peachfuzz-”

“ellie, i swear to god-”

“the dancing wolf man.”

“shut UP!”

she’s dying.

you’re dying inside.

when she finally catches her breath, she wipes her eyes and looks at you with a grin that could melt glaciers.

“you are such a fucking brat.”

“and you’re annoying.”

“cute,” she corrects.

you blink.

she seems to realise what she said and quickly looks away.

then clears her throat. “so that’s why you want me to stay? you’re scared?”

you fold your arms. “i’m not scared.”

“you literally are.”

“i just- don’t want to be alone.”

“same thing.”

you throw a pillow at her.

she catches it effortlessly.

then smirks.

“i still gotta go,” she says casually. “unless you want to come with?”

your breath stutters.

“i- yes.”

she raises both brows. “you serious?”

“i’m not staying here alone.”

“then go change.”

you stand. “i’m already dressed.”

ellie stares at your tiny outfit again.

longer this time.

you don’t miss the swallowed breath.

“…you’re gonna be cold,” she mutters.

“i’ll be fine.”

“you won’t.”

“ellie, i’m not changing.”

she curses under her breath.

“fine,” she grumbles. “let’s go.”

her car is cluttered but comfortable, hoodies, empty water bottles, a crumpled notebook full of half-finished sketches.

the air smells faintly of old leather and something metallic, like the garage where she works.

she starts the engine and immediately, tyler the creator fills the space.

you wrinkle your nose.

“ugh. you’re such a typical masc lesbian.”

ellie almost slams the brakes. “excuse me?”

“tyler is masc lesbian god,” you say, reaching for her phone. “i’m not listening to this.”

“don’t touch my phone.”

“give me aux.”

“absolutely not. your music taste is-”

you pout.

ellie glances at you.

and folds instantly.

“fuck. fine. here.” she shoves her phone at you. “but if you play some princess-pop bullshit-”

you play sabrina carpenter.

she groans loudly, but her fingers tap the steering wheel in time with the beat.

you smirk out the window.

as soon as you step out at the meet-up spot, you gasp dramatically. the cold air hits your bare legs and the thin fabric of your tank top like a physical shock.

“ellie. it’s freezing.”

“no shit.”

“why didn’t you tell me?”

she stares at you.

slowly raises one eyebrow.

“i did.”

you shiver aggressively, hugging yourself.

“ellieeee.”

she sighs so hard it shakes her shoulders, rummages through the backseat, and throws one of her hoodies at your face. it’s a dark grey, thick cotton, clearly well-worn.

“put that on.”

“i don’t want-”

“put it on before you turn into an icicle and i have to explain to josh why i let his sister freeze to death.”

you slip it on.

it smells exactly like her. warm, piney, like weed and cheap cologne and something soft beneath it all, maybe just the scent of her skin.

you tug it closer without thinking, burying your nose in the collar.

ellie notices.

but she doesn’t comment.

ellie’s plug, devon, is leaning against a beat-up car under a flickering streetlight.

the moment he sees you, he grins wide.

“well damn, ellie. you didn’t tell me you were bringing a pretty girl.”

ellie stiffens beside you.

you smile politely. “hi.”

“what’s your name, beautiful? you look like you need someone to keep you warm.”

ellie steps between you before you can answer.

“doesn’t matter.”

devon laughs. “why not? she’s pretty.”

you feel heat creep up your neck.

ellie’s jaw flexes.

then:

she puts her hand around your waist.

not gently.

not politely.

possessively. her fingers dig slightly into your hip bone, a silent warning.

“she’s. with. me.”

your brain shorts.

devon lifts his hands. “alright, alright. chill. i get it. possessive much, williams?”

ellie doesn’t chill.

not until the exchange is over, the money swapped, the weed tucked into ellie’s pocket, and devon finally turns away.

only then does she drop her hand.

your waist feels cold without it.

you both sit in the car again.

silent.

ellie’s staring straight ahead, jaw tight.

you watch her in the reflection of the windshield.

she looks… tense. annoyed. like she wants to punch something. or scream.

you swallow.

“ellie?”

she inhales sharply. “don’t.”

“don’t what?”

“don’t start.”

“i didn’t say anything.”

“you’re staring.”

“you’re being weird.”

“i’m not being weird.”

you turn fully toward her.

“why did you do that?”

“do what.”

“you know what.”

ellie doesn’t respond.

“ellie.”

nothing.

“why didn’t you like devon flirting with me?”

her hand tightens on the steering wheel. “because i didn’t.”

“why.”

“because i didn’t.”

“that’s not an answer.”

she exhales through her nose, frustrated. “drop it.”

“no.”

she finally turns her head.

her eyes are bright in the dim.

sharp.

dangerous.

“…you really want to know?” she asks quietly.

you nod.

ellie looks away.

jaw clenched.

then, finally:

“because i like you.”

you stop breathing.

“no you don’t.”

“yes. i do.”

“you’re-but you’re mean to me.”

“i know.”

“why?”

ellie shrugs.

“it’s fun pissing you off.”

you shove her shoulder. “you’re stupid.”

“yeah.”

she still won’t look at you.

you stare at her.

the freckles on her cheekbones.

the curve of her lips.

the tension in her jaw.

she’s trying so hard to look indifferent.

so, so hard.

“ellie,” you whisper.

she finally looks at you.

and everything collapses.

you lean in.

she meets you halfway.

the kiss lands hot, messy, breathless, years of tension snapping at once. her mouth is soft, yet demanding, her lips parting instantly against yours. the taste of mint and something uniquely ellie is intoxicating.

ellie groans, a low, desperate sound that vibrates deep in her chest.

her hands fly to your waist, gripping the fabric of the hoodie and pulling you forward with surprising strength.

your fingers tangle in her short, soft hair, tugging gently, eliciting another needy sound from her throat.

you climb over the console, straddling her seat, her thighs, her hips. the gear shift digs uncomfortably into your thigh, but you barely notice.

you’re pressed against her, the heat of her body a shocking contrast to the cold air outside.

she breaks the kiss only to trail a line of open-mouthed kisses down your neck, her teeth nipping playfully at the sensitive skin just below your ear.

“you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do that,” she mutters against your skin, her breath hot and ragged.

your fingers yank lightly at her hair in response, a silent plea for more.

her grip tightens on your hips, pulling you flush against her sweatpants.

the windows fog instantly, obscuring the view of the empty parking lot. the air burns with the scent of your combined arousal.

her mouth presses to your jaw, then her lips find yours again, harder this time, more urgent.

her hands travel lower, pushing the hoodie up and over your head, tossing it into the back seat. she rips your thin tank top off next, exposing your chest to the cool air of the car.

“fuck,” she breathes, her eyes dark as they rake over your exposed skin.

she doesn’t waste time. her mouth descends, claiming your collarbone, sucking hard enough to leave a bruise, a dark, possessive mark.

she moves lower, her tongue tracing the curve of your breast, before she sucks the sensitive skin just above your nipple, eliciting a sharp gasp from you.

you’re a mess of gasps and whimpers, your head thrown back against the headrest.

she reaches for the waistband of your tiny pyjama shorts with one hand, never breaking the trail of kisses she’s leaving on your stomach.

she slides them down your hips, slowly, deliberately, until they join the pile of clothes in the back.

you are completely bare, straddling her lap, your wet heat pressing against the soft cotton of her sweatpants.

ellie looks up at you, her eyes blazing. “i’m not waiting for the back seat.”

she pushes you back against the door, her hand sliding between your legs. her fingers are rough, calloused from the garage, and they feel incredible against your slick, sensitive skin.

she finds your clit instantly, rubbing it with a firm, insistent pressure. you cry out, the sound muffled by the close confines of the car.

“shh,” she whispers, her voice a low growl, her mouth returning to your neck to bite down gently. “don’t wake the neighbours.”

she slides two fingers inside you, slick with your own wetness, stretching you open. she starts a slow, deep rhythm, her thumb never leaving your clit.

you’re bucking against her hand, your hips thrusting forward, desperate for more.

“ellie, please,” you beg, your voice thick with need.

she pulls her hand away, just for a second, and you whine in protest.

“i want to taste you,” she says, her voice husky.

she shifts, pulling your hips forward until you’re positioned perfectly. she lowers her head, her tongue replacing her fingers, a hot, wet shock that makes your entire body seize up.

she’s thorough, precise, and utterly relentless. she laps at you, swirls her tongue around your clit, then sucks hard, pulling you deep into her mouth.

you’re a mess of gasps and moans, your hands gripping the headrest, your fingers digging into the leather.

just as you feel the first tremors of an orgasm building, the silence of the car is shattered by the shrill ring of ellie’s phone.

she pulls back, her face wet, a string of saliva connecting your pussy to her chin. she looks at the caller id: josh.

“i have to answer it,” she whispers, her voice rough.

“no! ellie, don’t!” you beg, grabbing her arm.

she ignores you, wiping her mouth quickly on her sleeve and hitting the answer button. she puts the phone on speaker, holding it awkwardly between her shoulder and her ear.

“yeah, what’s up, man?” she says, her voice surprisingly steady, though a little breathless.

“where are you? i’m almost home,” josh’s voice crackled through the speaker.

ellie’s eyes meet yours, a devilish glint in them. she reaches down, her fingers finding your wet, throbbing clit.

“oh, i’m just… out. running an errand,” she said casually, her fingers starting to rub you in slow, deliberate circles.

you gasp, biting your lip hard to keep quiet.

“cool, cool. hey, is my sister there? i told her i’d bring her back some of my girlfriend’s cookies,” josh asked.

ellie’s fingers were now working you with a focused intensity, and you could feel yourself getting closer again.

“your sister? nah, i haven’t seen her. she’s probably asleep,” ellie lied smoothly, her eyes locked on yours, watching the pleasure bloom on your face.

you couldn’t hold it in. a loud, involuntary moan escaped your throat.

ellie’s eyes widened slightly. she quickly slapped her free hand over your mouth, muffling the sound.

“what was that?” josh asked, sounding confused.

“what was what? oh, that was just… the radio. bad signal out here,” ellie said, her voice strained. she pressed her fingers harder against your clit, pushing you over the edge.

you were vibrating against her hand, your body convulsing in a silent, muffled orgasm. tears pricked your eyes from the intensity and the pressure of her hand over your mouth.

“oh. okay. well, i’ll see you in a bit then,” josh said.

“yeah. later, man.” ellie hung up the phone and immediately pulled her hand away from your mouth.

you gasped for air, your body still shuddering, completely spent.

ellie looked down at you, her face flushed, a triumphant, slightly manic grin on her face.

“i told you i’d ruin you,” she whispered, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “and i told you i’d make you scream my name. even if i had to muffle it.”

you were too exhausted to speak. you just wrapped your arms around her neck, pulling her close.

“we need to go,” she said, her voice soft now, the mean girl facade completely gone. “josh is going to be home in ten minutes.”

she helped you pull your clothes back on, the silk shorts now damp and wrinkled. she drove you home in silence, sabrina still playing softly on the stereo.

perm taglist: @yasmilks , @frosttbitten , @lovemiraamira , @ellies-real-wife , @wewerewildandfluorescent , @jullsii , @eyesttokill , @dmenby3100 , @bunchogravie , @oneinameliann , @intheshadowofthestars , @pariiissssssss , @vanpalmertruther , @madsxh1022 , @rbnvrnxoxo , @firefly-ace , @alyaserrax , @silly-pigeon69 , @glassofgreenteapls , @serpentskrtt , @m0th3rcal , @sincerelyherz , @0phantom0 , @ggutpunch , @leeidk87 , @mikellie , @celiacallsitcasual , @gurlbownerr , @l0veylace , @bluminescent-moon , @oatmatchalatte , @hitmehardmommy , @iadorefineshyt , @jksevendays , @liztreez , @clemrules , @yourl0caltrash , @rootytootymeow , @thebadwritersposts , @vanillacigarettes777 , @soltwent , @allisonsivy , @lesbian-useless , @lovewitchss , @abigail-andersons-wife , @valeisaslut , @ssijht , @meow4510 , @vixenkii , @modernvenuss ,@pryncess123 , @frey-williams , @hxneybugsworld , @iloveclairo2016 , @shadowybasementmiracle , @nutmegsnorter , @improbablynotpoppy , @simpingonwinonaryder , @e-l-l-i-e-w—p-a-i-g-e-b5 , @elliewilliamkisser2000 , @newjupiter , @willowlovestheweasleys , @tr0928 , @caitvisthirdmember , @honeyylovee , @idek4bands , @andreaaaxoxo , @mymy2o1 , @ur-local-astronaut , @laiim , @like-a-dirty-french-novel , @pearlescent0o , @icong-nizo , @girlsatourbest , @0ngeeked , @celinealways , @kikispool , @hyperbabes , @hauntedclaudio , @shakeyodreadsshakeyodreads , @roseegallagher , @ferretthegremlin , @smellslike-updyke , @nikaaaaaapple , @lynn5783 , @nahuyul <3

[nanamisbbygirl]

frat guys never go down on girls. that's what you've always heard—a part of it was to be expected, they didn't get their douche-bag reputation all on their own. yet, somehow—despite all odds, one's managed to win you over, to lure you into his room, seducing you with his large figure and lewd promises.

sukuna ryomen spread your legs apart slow, as if he was opening up a treasured gift—taking his sweet time, exploring you with his eyes. sure, you were a little tense--you heard how big his dick was—but it was almost more surprising when he placed a kiss to your ankle, starting a path towards your cunt.

"what's with the face?" his gruff, blunt tone caught you off guard, nonetheless sending a shiver down your spine.

"nothing—" you breathed out, and he was inching closer and closer to your panties, scanning over the damp spot your needy cunt had unintentionally made. "i just..." you trailed off, face heated with somewhat embarrassment—was it wrong to assume he was going to go down on you?

"don't tell me no one's eaten you out before?" he's shocked to say the least. even you're shocked that he's somewhat managed to read your mind. your body tenses up, looking away from his fixed gaze.

voice going quiet, you say to him: "i mean, guys like you don't really do that sorta thing—i just thought..."

you barely have a chance to finish your words when sukuna snorts.

"guys like me?" you cringe at his tone—maybe you were making too much of a generalization. he grabbed your thighs and forcefully pulled you even closer to him. "who the fuck do you think i am? you wanna see a real man eat, then watch."

before you know it your panties are off, glossy cunt shining in the dimness of his frat house bedroom. there's a thumping of a speaker that's echoing the beating of your heart, watcing how his face sinks closer to your wetness, to the point that you can feel his hot breath on you.

your chest rises and falls, his tongue poking out and licking you once—enough to send chills down your spine.

"i better not see you closing your eyes—i need you to look at me when i do it."

and look you did, taking in the sight of the man before you--proudly breaking the frat guy stereotype.

of course, his eyes were absolutely fixated on you, not for a single moment missing the way your body reacted to him. he collected every last drop of you slick, sucking down hard on your clit, embracing the way your thighs crushed around his head. the more you seemed to stare back at his lust-filled irises, the more heated the room felt, the more your stomach started to tighten, the more you needed to cum all over his face.

"ngh-" you choke out, which has sukuna humming against your pussy, soaking in how you cant out his name, "ryo, ryo, ryo," begging for him to keep going, pleading at him not to stop.

"fuck, fuck! i'm soo close— aughhh" you can feel your eyes rolling back, clit vibrating and spasming as the rest of your body temples, practically folding into him. you can't help but close your eyes, something that earns you a slap to the thigh.

sukuna's eyes narrow in on you, warning you not to, and as hard as it was, you kept your eyes wide open as he rode you through your high.

never again should you underestimate a frat guy—especially not sukuna, because now you're his all night, and he'll show you just how much he loves to eat girls like you out.

[tabloidangel]

NOT TOO DEEP, tyriq withers.

synopsis: the night you found out that beneath family cheer, the cheeky grin, silly antics, and quiet confidence tyriq is absolutely disgusting.

content: black!reader, holiday season, family introductions, intoxication, pet names, dirty talk, fingering, clit slapping, edging badd, finger sucking, p in v, counter missionary, cream pie, spit.

my whiney boy..

It’s felt like forever since you’ve shared that same room as tyriq.

A week of travel, early call times, press runs, podcasts tapings, and airports that all started to blur together. Leaving the two of you often on the opposite sides of the world, no time for dates. barely any time for calls and texts.

But Today? Today was easy and nerve wracking all at once.

Tyriq’s family house in Jacksonville is packed— warm with laughter, music, cousins wrestling somewhere in the back. Aunties cooking as if they were feeding a small army— the house smells like mac n cheese, collard greens, and a famous sweet potato pie.

The two of you barely stepped inside before you heard it.

“OHHHH, there she go! It’s the carpet girl y’all!” His older cousin waved you over with the biggest smile. “Baby you went viral! We saw that lil interview.”

“mhmmm— just cheesin’ like he ain’t ever seen a woman before.”

“Mmcht,” Tyriq groans, looking off with an embarrassing bite of his cheek. “Don’t start.”

“Camera ain’t do no justice, girl you just as gorgeous!”

“Nah tyriq run it back,” Another cousin chimes in, sneaking a piece of chicken on the side. “show us that lil two step.”

You cover your mouth, trying to stifle the giggle that slipped, everyone bursts out into laughter, as he dougies shamelessly throughout the kitchen. passing out hugs, daps, and kisses along the way. Making sure to introduce you properly.

Then his aunt rounds the marbled island, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel, giving you that look wiser black women give whether the two of you are good for one another.

“So missy.” Carefully placing those beautiful jeweled rings back on her finger. “you the one behind the video of him looking all bashful online?”

You nod shyly, “That might’ve been me.”

Auntie raises a brow. “ Hmm. You cute, I like your hair.”

“Come eat.”

Tyriq watches you go with her as he rounds up with the men, all of them dapping him uo and whispering the moment you’d gone far enough.

Hours pass. Plates are cleaned. The older folk start settling. The younger cousins turn the living room into a makeshift party with a bluetooth speaker and liquor someone most definitely didn’t pull from out grandma’s cabinet. You’re dancing with tyriq’s cousins in the middle of the room— The informal after party where everyone’s a little tipsy and the family home turns into a club.

You let yourself sink into the celebration after a long week— no cameras, no red carpet, no pressure to hose or smile a certain way. you were free for the weekend to be whoever you wanted to be in that moment.

It was just you.

Tariq’s family.

And a beat thrumming throughout your body.

The bass is heavy. The lights are dimmed, coiled tresses swinging with every move you make, and the liquor hits just right— loose, glowy, and warm in your belly.

It has your skin buzzing as you sway to the music. Slow rolling motions you only dance lie whenever you’re comfortable and tipsy. Hands trailing up your sides, fingertips brush at your soft curve of your waist, ribs, and neck. Eyes fluttering shit as you let the music take you.

Tonight was the freest you’ve felt in days.

Across the room rested tyriq, you didn’t notice at first but he definitely noticed you.

He’s posted up near the kitchen doorway, laughing with an uncle of his. No longer processing what was being said to him, everything blurring into nothing as he watches your hips away so swiftly. The shimmering glitter along your skin and neck, when it tilts back as you laugh. The way you touched your own body like the music was yours alone.

“Boy, close your mouth.” His cousin nudged him, “You starin’.”

Tyriq doesn’t even blink, rubbing the back of his neck with a laugh. “Mann, watch out.”

And when your eyes finally meet, you felt it.

The heat. The recognition. The slow hungry pull between two people that had been thinking about the other every damn day.

You smile softly— knowingly as you keep dancing.

Your friends of the night— aka his cousins— hype you up even more, spinning you around. Laughter bubbling up your chest when the men come in a start busting their moves.

Until you found him a few songs later, after his cousins peels off to grab drinks. You walk past his chair— hoping to get water, maybe another shot, but his hands grabs yours. Just enough to slow you down and let you feel the claim of his touch.

“You having fun?” He questioned, voice low and warm.

“Hmm, maybe..” you giggled, “I think you could use a bit more fun yourself boo.”

“You a little stiff in here..”

“Stiff huh?” He repeats with a low scoff, eyes dragging over your smooth peaking skin. Shaking his head with a slow grin. “You gon’ have to get me on your level then.”

You step closer, leaning in just enough that he can smell the holiday punch on your breath. “ain’t nothing to catch you up..”

“what you sipping on?”

“Whatever you having,” His tongue pushes against the inside of his cheek. A slow, dangerous smile spreading across his face. “however you wanna get me there..”

Instead of grabbing a drink himself, he keeps his eyes on you— Waiting. Expecting. Inviting. Strong hand wrapped around your thigh as watches the bartender of the night slide you a sculpted glass. Filled with something smooth and golden just before turning back to him swirling the mixed concoction.

“open..” you whisper softly.

He blinks, his bluish green eyes meeting yours curious brows. “Open what?”

You lift the glass, tipping it slight towards him.

“Your mouth tyriq…”

He knows exactly what you're doing— and he likes it. You slowly bring the glass to his lips, letting the liquid spill into his mouth. Still holding your gaze he slowly parted his reddened lips, revealing his white teeth and pink tongue.

Your gentle fingers guide the rim to them carefully, supporting the bottom of the glass with one hand. Meanwhile the other? It was occupied with hooking two fingers under this hinge of his jaw, tilting his head up just enough.

And he lets you— lets you take care of it.

He swallows the drink, the sweet taste spreading through his mouth, throat flexing under your fingers as the alcohol burned his throat. Never breaking eye contact.

All while you look at him like he’s the one you’ve been waiting on all week.

And when the glass is empty, you drag your hand down, that tortoiseshell manicured thumb brushes at the corner of his mouth. Rubbing a soothing circling into the warm skin of his cheek before patting it twice, with a satisfied smirk.

“good boy..”

Tyriq looks you over with a hungry bite of his lip, the purple of blue hues of light washing over him as it disco light bounced around the room, lips curving into a smirk. Settling into that low sectional again, legs spread, shirt wrinkled from the day, as the liquor courses through his veins.

He looks good— too fucking good. And your drunk enough, no needy enough, or was it just enough of both? To stop pretending you’re not thinking about him as much as you do.

So you climb into his lap.

Slow. Unhurried. Like you this was the exact placed you’ve wanted to be all night.

He inhaled sharply when your weight settles along his thighs, his hands instinctively gripping your hips guiding you exactly where he wants you. Hands mindlessly tracing down your sides, gliding against your curves before finally brushing at your feet— thumb brushing over your manicured toes. Your hands rest at his shoulders, sliding your fingers along the soft hairs resting at the nape of his neck.

Then you lean in.

Kissing his jaw first, the sharp line of it. Then lower, where his pulse thrummed against the soft delicate skin. Your lips open just the slightest— warm, slow, needy. His head tilts back, jaw tightening, eyes fluttering shut.

A shudder runs through him, a call of his name only gaining his attention for a brief second. A second to long in your hazed mind.

You don’t use words. Just a soft, spoiled little sound in the back of your throat as you lips graze along his skin. A whiny, needy plea that he’s only just discovered that you have.

“m’not going anywhere pretty girl..” Voice low and deep like a weighted murmur, lust simmering right beneath the sound.

Then you do it.

A quiet pouty look, lower lip caught between your teeth, brows soft damn near pleading. Placing another kiss to his neck, followed by a soft frustrated sound. fingers sliding up his chest— tugging at his chain, while your body dragged against him as if you could get any closer.

“you gon’ just keep sittin’ here poutin’ in my lap,” lifting your chin with two fingers, forcing you to meet his low gaze head on. “ or you gon’ tell me what you want?”

Your lips hover over his— close enough to taste the liquor he swallowed for you. Your head was light but the way tyriq’s fingers pressed into your hips made you feel so present— every inch of your body tuned into the drag of his hands.

You whisper, just barely audible.

“You..”

“Tyriq,” Your nose brushing his, lips ghosting over his mouth. “I want you..”

His pupils blow, eyes half-lidded, amused and aroused all at once. Giving you a look that shuts you up instantly.

He stands in one motion, taking you with him— legs wrapping around his waist before you even think. His hands gripping beneath your thighs, carrying you in his string hold. Family is still laughing, dancing, drinking, but none of it touches you.

You gasp against his neck as he carries you through the side hallway, ignoring the call of his name, or anyone who might be watching. Shouldering open the nearest door. It’s his old room. Dim. Quiet. The only sound is the distant bass from the living room and your quiet whimpers against his neck. He kicks the door closed behind him, locking it.

He drops you atop of the nearest dresser with a thud. Just hard enough to send a buzz to your already slicked clit. Your breath leaving in quick gasps when you back hits the cool surface of the wall.

He pulls you forward, hands grip your hips tighter, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass, pulling you right to the edge of the dresser. "You want me?"

You heart breaks wildly in your chest, small hands working up his strong arms— from the forearm up to his juicy biceps. “riq— your family..?” you questioned softly.

“nobody worried bout us..” His hands move from your hips to your back, pulling you closer until your chest presses against his. Your breasts pillowed perfectly against his hard chest, nipples pebbling through the thin fabric of your top. “I asked you a question..”

you nod, eyes dragging up to his, hazy and warm. full of drunken need, lingering too long in his mouth, his hands, his everything.

His hand moves to your face, thumb brushing against your bottom lip, pushing it down softly. He watches as your mouth parts slightly, tongue peaking out to wet your lips. He swallows hard, hand moving from your face to your throat.

"You been missin’ me that bad?".

You just smile— a smile that was slow, tipsy, and full of truth. Your lips ghost against his neck, pressing a wet kiss against the spot that made him groan softly. Tyriq tilts his head back slightly, exposing more of his throat to you. The sound rumbling through his chest like a purr.

You just smile— a smile that was slow, tipsy, and full of truth. Your lips ghost against his neck, pressing a wet kiss against the spot that made him groan softly. He tilts his head back slightly, exposing more of his throat to you. The sound rumbling through his chest like a purr.

His fingers curled around your throat, flexing in a slow squeeze that made your body grow hot, using that grip to guide you off his neck. His lips hovering just above yours, teasing and tormenting.

His breath mingles with yours, warm and sweet from the liquor. He doesn't close the distance between your mouths, instead his hands slowly inch upwards. Pushing up that sweater dress until they reach your lace underwear.

He looks at your mouth.

Then your eyes.

Then back to your mouth.

fingers hooking beneath the fabric and gently pulls it to the side. Whispering against your lips. "Tell me to stop.."

But you don’t— you can’t.

Your eyes stay locked on his. Both of you looking each other through the same warm haze, drinking each other in.

His fingers slowly trace along your slit, feeling the wetness that's already gathered there. He groans softly against your lips, still grazing. “s’wet for me…” He murmurs, fingers circling your clit lightly. He other hand ups your cheek, tilting your head back slightly. “open for me?”

Your mouth opens, his strong hand keeping your head tilted just right for him as you let out soft purrs below. His mouth hovering just above yours, trickling spit into your mouth. Tongue snaking out, catching the spit before it can fall down your chin and swallowing it back down, hand on your throat tightening slightly as his finger dips inside you, mouth parting beneath his with a sweet moan, quickly replacing it with a bite of your bottom lip to quiet yourself.

“You drunk..” he murmured against your mouth, his lips brushing against yours with every word. His gaze drops to your lips, watching the way they move as you breathe. As your tongue peeks out to wet your lips again. “Drunk as fuck ain’t you?”

A slow smile spreads across your face, chin slicked with his spit. Slurring out a hum, when he fingers grooves itself deeper into your pussy. He murmurs approvingly, adding another— stretching you out slowly.

His free hand moves to your hip, pulling you closer as his fingers curl inside of you, hitting that spot that made your eyes roll back. His thumb presses against your clit, rubbing slow circles. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, breathing you in.

"You smell so good..."

You moan out, legs giving him a quick tremble when he finally found that spot. Walls sucking him in with a wet shlick, oozing out more slick off the sound of his voice alone. “feels s’good baby..”

"making my pretty girl feel good hm?" He hums against your neck, sucking a wet kiss there. He starts to slowly pump those fingers in and out of you, his thumb circling your clit in time with his thrusts. His voice drops lower, rumbling against your neck as he feels your walls sucking him in. "Pussy so wet for me…”

Your whine grew louder, hips meeting his fingers with every thrust. Ears growing hot as he brought you close to the edge. His lips finally meet yours in a sloppy wet kiss, tongue pushing into your mouth to taste you.

Your lips broke away first, lungs working overtime to catch the same breath that was being stolen from you. Chest rising and falling against his, the edges of bliss still trembling through you— hot, dizzying, almost too much.

and god you were so close.

That coil deep in your belly screwed tight around itself, ready to snap at any moment until it all disappears. Tyriq smirking against your lips, as he fingers slid out of your pussy. Eyes glued to your pretty face all the feelings that faded from it.

And he thought you wet so pretty like this— cheeks flushed, lips swollen, breath warm against his skin. Dizzy. Wanting. Trying to steady yourself.

“Nah..” He shook his head slightly, bringing his fingers to his mouth and sucking your juices off. His tongue curling around his digits, cleaning them off thoroughly. He leaned back in, lips hovering just over yours. "That ain’t what you been whining for all night.."

“Riq’ please…” You whine, your pussy was empty and clenching. His other hand moved to your inner thigh, slowly spreading your legs further apart, his thumb and forefingers, revealing your pretty little clit. His eyes flicked down between your legs before back up to your face.

He snaps his wrist, slapping it. Your back arches, mouth hanging opening,soundless. He smirks cruelly. Each smack of his fingers sends shockwaves through your body, keeping right on the edge. just how he wanted you.

Legs tensing when those thick digits swirl around your clit. Pussy pooling with slick, as your hands fumbled around him— pulling at his belt frustratedly. Tyriq watches with an amused smile.

“Tell me..” finally reaching down to help you with his belt. He undoes it slowly, watching your desperate state with amusement and hunger in his eyes.

“I already told you..” you whisper softly, tongue teasingly licked across his lips. “I want you.”

“I know..”

He murmured back. His lips brushing against yours with each word. He pulls away to pull his shirt off first, exposing his toned abs and muscular chest. He throws it somewhere across the room before he finally gets back to his belt. pushing his pants down just enough to free his thick dick— grabbing it by the base, giving it a slow stroke while looking down at your sticky pussy.

You watch him in awe, fingers tracing every curve, dip, of his chest and abs. The way his dick bobbed up and down, precum beading off that pink throbbing tip. practically begging to be touched.

He uses his free hand to push your dress up further, exposing more of your thick thighs. Sliding up the sides of your curvy waist, exposing your soft belly and hard nipples. His heavy eyes dragging over your body with a bite of his lip.

“See what you do to me?”

He whispers, tapping the head of his dick against your clit over and over. That beaded liquid mixing with your slick, making the most disgusting mess between your thighs. He steps closer, his hand wrapping around your thigh as he lifts it up and wraps it around his waist.

Your nearly folded, lip combo smeared sexily along his lips. Then he slides that fat tip over your buzzing clit,every ridge and vein of his dick pressing against the sensitive skin.

He watches as his dick slides through your slick lips, collecting more of that oozing wetness. Teasing your clit with just the tip, watching as it swelled and throbbed. “You want this dick?”

You hum, listening to the sound of your slick as it glides through your folds. Whining whenever he that fat tip barely dipped into your clenching pussy.

“Tell me you want it,” grabbing your chin, forcing you to look up at him. His gaze is stern, commanding. He watches as your pussy struggles to hold onto just the tip, clenching around it, hungry for more. Sinking just an inch before pulling out again. “That’s all you gotta say..”

“I want it so bad baby..” you whine out, both you eyes lingering on each other slow and unsteady. His hips finally press forward never sinking deeper more a few inches into that clamping hole of yours, dick so thick your pussy clung to it like a second skin.

Your fingers dig at the skin of his back, lips parting in sync as the both of you let out a relieved moan.

Each thrust is slow and steady, as he stretches you open wide. Eyes rolling back whenever he sinks to a full six inches, Watching you two toned pussy cover his dick in your wet slick. “Open her up f’me..”

He pulls out almost all the way, leaving just the tip inside. Pushing back in and hitting a spot inside that makes your legs tense around him.

“s-shittttt” you mewl, just as he sinks deep inside of you. Pelvis flush with his as your pussy welcomed him with loud slick squelch.

"Justtt like that.." He smirks, his hips starting a slow grind against your pelvis. His thick length rubbing against that spot inside of you with every roll of his hips. Keeping one hand wrapped around your leg, holding it open wide while he fucked you deeply with slow, controlled thrusts. Tapping that cervix then slowly pulling out to watch those pink gushy walls grip at his dick so tight.

His hands slide down your neck, over your shoulders until they reach your arms. He lifts them above your head, pinning them there with one large hand. Fucking you steady, feeding you every thrust that his body rolled against you.

His other hand wraps around your waist, pulling you even closer as he continues to fuck you deeply. His hips moving in slow, deliberate circles against yours, ensuring that every thrust hits deep, making that pussy open up perfectly. “This what you wanted? Hm?”

“nghhhh—yessss!” you whine long and hard, chest heaving to collect the same air tyriq knocked out of you. Thick dick dragging against your gushy walls. That pretty pout on your face that he never wanted to go away, “s’ fucking heavy daddy..”

“mhm heavy as fuck for my pretty girl." He pulls back slightly, looking down at where you were connected. Pelvis grinding against your clit with every downward stroke. Leaning down to kiss you deeply, swallowing every moan that left your lips.

And the kiss was so sloppy.

Your tongues mingling while he continued to stroke your pussy like he loved everything about you.

“oh. my. go— why are you fucking me like thisss?” you whined mid stroke, thick dick hittin so deep it made you drool. Strokes becoming more steady than slow.

Tyriq ignores you though, focused on the way your slicked pooled around his dick. Dripping every single time he pulls out before pushing right back into your hot pussy. Each thrust deliberate and deep, thumb finding your clit and swirling. “Shh, just feel it mama..”

And you did.

A pretty pout on your face as fucked every single inch into you, hitting so deep over and over. digging deeper than ever you’ve ever felt before.

“That’s a good fucking girl..” He groans, watching your pretty face contort with pleasure. His thick dick hitting so deep that your eyes watered slightly, the feeling overwhelming. Soreading your pussy lips apart, watching as he disappears completely inside you with each stroke.

“Fat ass pussy taking that dick..”

Tyriq had your thighs spread so far they burned.

Fat mushroomed tip slamming against your cervix, digging a creamy slick out of that gushy pussy. grabbing your legs and pulling them back until your ankles were practically touching his red ears. opening you up impossibly wide.

“so fucking messy, just look..”

“m’ bout to cum daddy” His fingers wrap messily into your big curls, pulling your head forward to watch as he strokes that pussy slow and deep. That white cream drowning his dick, milky white slick leaking where the two of you were connected. “nghhhh—”

It was becoming too much for the both of you.

"ouuuuu— fuckkkk.." He moans.

Deep and begging as he starts to fuck you faster, harder, deeper. The wet sounds of your pussy echoing in the room in the most filthy ways.

You were just so fucking wet, messy, and taking every inch like you wanted to be full of him. His head falls back, eyes rolling as you swallowed all eight inches. losing himself in your pussy.

“shittttt” He a moaning mess, watching your pussy eat his dick up greedily, squeezing his base everytime his pelvis met yours. Every thrust hitting something deep inside of you that made you moan and whine loudly. His heavy balls slapping against your ass with each thrust. "This fucking pussy gon make me nut..."

“Unt-uh..” you whine out, legs trembling in his strong calloused hands, leaving crescent marks as they digging into your thighs. Roughly cupping his face stubbled jaw, “Keep those pretty eyes on me..”

He whines, his eyes snapping back to yours. Watches as your mouth drops open in pleasure— your hair wild, breasts bouncing with each thrust, lips parted and sexy as fuck. Then he drops that dick, making your pussy spurt out a stream. Breaking down that damn that left you squirting on his dick.

“ouuuuu— fuck mommy. give me that shit”

splattering all over his abs and dick, washing away the milky white cream that covered his dick only seconds ago.

Filling you up with the most whiney, pathetic moan.

“Happy. Fucking. Thanksgiving. Baby..”

[potchi-fics]

note; clearing out my drafts so take this

tw; ellie fingers you cus you're sassier and grumpier than her

      you knew living with Ellie would be hell the moment she labelled the fridge ‘mine’ and ‘yours.’ 

bro, you hated sharing a room with her; she’s always this grumpy dog who takes out her frustrations on you. i mean, you’re an even grumpier person, so you can’t talk shit. but that’s none of her business.

you two bicker like kids whenever yall are in the same room, makes ellie want to rip her hair out.

“dude, why are you always touching my guitar?” ellie asks, her voice monotone but laced with irritation as she drops her bag, she just came back from patrol. “we’ve talked about this multiple times.”

a sigh leaves me as i don’t look up from my book, “and i told you multiple times not to leave it around, what if i accidentally break it, dude?” 

“you’re really starting to piss me off.”

“yeah? you’ve been pissing me off, ellie. there hasn’t been a day when you didn’t piss me off—”

      that must’ve been the boiling point because she’s knuckle-deep in your cunt right now, on her bed, legs spread as she sits by your side, giving you no chance to run away.

you got no idea how you got here, but you’re not complaining— not when she’s curling her fingers deep inside, just hitting that spot of yours. your shorts were thrown and discarded somewhere in the room, and you can barely see your panties hanging by the edge of the bed.

“how about now? still pissed?” god, you hate how smug ellie looks right now while fucking your pussy, “just needed to fuck that attitude out of you, huh?”

your hand darts up to grab her face, fingertips digging into her cheek, forcing her to look at you,  “you just needed to find a reason– fuck, a reason to fuck me, didn’t you?”

      you knew you won when ellie didn’t bother to say a retort. you knew you won when she manhandled you into keeping your legs together and forcing you to hold them up to your chest, giving her full access to your pussy.

with her hips slotted against your bottom, happily putting you in a missionary position, she admired how your cunt swallows her fingers.

“oh, sweetheart, look at your pussy taking my fingers so well,” ellie groans out, curling her fingers again just to tease you, “bet you regret giving me attitude, hmm?”

      you’re in heaven. ellie’s fingers keep hitting your spot; she keeps thrusting in and out to get you over that edge.

and if you soak her bed with your slick and cum, it ain’t your fault. If you squirt all over her sheets because she keeps going, it ain’t your damn fault. 

if you’re blabbering, mindfucked, pussy overstimulated, going into orgasm number five by the end of the night? that’s kinda ellie’s fault.

[sukurena-deactivated20260124]

ryomen sukuna never asked you to stop wearing panties in his house.

he just made it clear, after the first time, that it was easier for him if you didn’t. easier to bend you over the kitchen counter. easier to fuck you into the couch cushions between shows. easier to slip his fingers between your thighs while you pretended to scroll through your phone, pretending like you weren’t waiting for it.

so now, you don’t. not when you’re at his place. not even for a second.

you walk in, take off your shoes, and take off your underwear, too—folded politely, dropped in the same spot by the door every time.

it’s not a rule. he never said it out loud. but it’s his house, and you like being good. sukuna likes it even more.

he touches you whenever he wants. pushes you down onto the carpet, or the cold kitchen tile, or the shower wall when you’re still dripping shampoo. sometimes he fucks you halfway through a sentence. sometimes he finishes inside you without saying a word. once, he pulled your legs open with a yawn—didn’t even look at you while he slid in. just sighed and mumbled, “missed this cunt all day.”

it’s never rough when you don’t ask for it. never mean. just constant, casual, intimate in the most fucked-up way. like your body is his to use, and you like being used.

and the worst part is that you do—you crave it. crave the way he brushes his fingers over your thighs while passing by, checking if you’re still wet. the way he ruts against your ass when you lean over the sink to rinse a dish. the way he pulls you into his lap just to idly fuck up into you while playing some mindless game on his phone.

“you’re soft,” he murmurs sometimes, pressing his palm to your lower belly while you’re full of him. “made for me.”

you nod. you always nod—because in sukuna’s house, you don’t wear panties. you wear obedience—slick thighs, and his cum leaking down your legs. and that’s exactly how he likes it.

© sukurena — do not copy, repost, or translate my work !!

[satorus-princess]

cw (minors please dni): fem!reader, sub!satoru, soft sex, starts as missionary then you ride him, he cries but he’s just filled with so much emotion and love for you :(

satoru’s heavy body is draped over your own, his face buried into the crook between your neck and shoulder, hot breath caressing against your skin and etching praises into your flesh.

“f-fuck, baby, you feel so good,” he whispers, a whine sneaking into the emotional rasp of his voice. “can’t believe you’re mine. and ‘m yours.”

the bed creaks slightly with each slow, deep roll of his hips into yours. a gentle roll, filled with so much devotion and affection. pumping every ounce of love he has for you. he moans your name like a prayer, a sacred prayer, like you’re his one and only solace.

his long, trembly fingers are intertwined with yours, held against the mattress, clammy palms fused together. his tensing stomach glides against your stomach with each rock of his body against yours, smothering you but pleasantly. comforting. safe.

in the intimate atmosphere of your shared bedroom, there’s only the sound of your hushed moans mingling together and your wet heat engulfing his length, walls clinging to him.

then, there’s a shaky breath, and moisture hits the skin of your neck.

“‘toru?” you whisper softly, letting go of one of his hands to run your fingers through his dampened locks.

“mm,” he hums, never halting the movement of his hips. “i’m okay. just--- oh, fuck, squeeze me like that… just love you so much.”

a soft smile adorns your lips and you whisper against his temple. “i love you, too.”

another quiet sound escapes him, seemingly not of pleasure, but something vulnerable and broken. a reflection of his overwhelming emotions; he can barely handle it. his hips stutter in their gentle push and pull, his breath becoming shakier against your neck.

carefully yet swiftly, you switch your positions so that his back is against the mattress and you’re straddling his lap, his dick still sheathed within you, crying pearly tears from his blushing tip.

and crystal tears from his eyes, wetting his flushed cheeks, blurring his vision slightly as he stares up at you with those beautiful eyes, more special than any diamond or jewel. the raw emotion woven into his expression makes your breath hitch. the way he looks up at you like you hung the moon and the stars.

he looks stunningly ethereal. and all yours.

“hi, my love,” you coo with a smile, cradling his cheeks gingerly in your palms as you wipe his precious tears away.

he immediately leans into your touch, yearning and craving. he could never have enough of your touch, he needs it like he needs air to breathe.

“do you want me to stop?” you hum, slowing the tender sway of your hips.

he shakes his head vigorously, his eyes still locked onto yours, almost pleadingly. “please don’t. keep-- shit… keep going, sweetheart. i love you so much.”

you bend to his every wish, continuing your shallow bounces, burning with unfathomable intimacy rather than pure sexual desire. you brace yourself with your hands grounded on his chest and he moves one of your hands to rest atop his racing heart.

“this is all for you. it’s yours. every beat. god, i love you. i love you, i love you. it feels like i’m gonna die.” he sniffles out a laugh, his eyes glassy and his trembling lips curling up into a soft, affectionate smile.

you laugh and lean down to brush your lips against his, featherlight and tender. “yeah?”

“yeah,” he breathes, like you just gave him life. “it’s overwhelming how much i love you. my heart is gonna explode.”

“mm, i won’t let it explode. it’s too precious to me,” you hum, blessing him with a smile and he swears his heart skipped several beats it’s a wonder how he’s still alive.

“you’re so pretty. and the sweetest person i’ve ever met. and the way you smile. i feel like i don’t know what to do with myself when you smile at me like that. i just--” he cuts himself off with another moan, his head tipping back slightly.

your other hand reaches up to brush his messy strands of pearls back from his forehead. he whimpers when you clench with devotion around his weeping cock, eagerly accepting everything that you could ever give him.

you continue the rock of your hips into his, moaning his name softly when his bulbous tip kisses your sweet spot so intimately. smothering kisses against it with each movement of your hip.

“‘m so close, sweetheart,” he whispers, voice cracking as your tender walls massage his cock lovingly, melting him into an emotional puddle beneath you.

leaning down, your chest presses against his and you kiss him slowly. he eagerly reciprocates, like it’s the only thing he needs in this moment.

“let go for me, my love, i’ve got you,” you murmur against his mouth, sliding a hand from his chest back up to his cheek.

he lets out a shuddering breath, staring up at you like he can’t believe you’re real. his soft pants become ragged and faster as he edges closer and closer to that peak. he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him, wanting to stay tethered to you through every second of his high.

his hips buck up violently into yours, involuntarily but triggering both of your releases with a suddenness that wracks your bodies. you cling onto each other, reverent moans of each other’s names mingling and getting lost somewhere between your sweaty bodies.

a string of ‘i love you’s tumble from his mouth as he comes apart. the only thing he can manage to utter, despite the stuttering and trailing off into weak whimpers.

neither of you move an inch even after coming down from your highs, simply basking in the moment and melding your bodies together until you become one, hearts thumping in sync.

taglist: @sweethearticism @sugurusladyknightt @cupidstrace @chewiebee @man1cslut @hails-trom @besidesjustmyamour @theevilarcher @aquariusscollection @snooptoru @snailsolidarity @julesss110 @ryaworld @maximasx @luvsukei @sunbumglow @satorusdollie @chuiisi @kalihrts @satorvs @synd1caate @angelabassettsbiceps

[fshgrs]

mdni

nerd!gojo and frat boy!geto are both enamored by you. you all share an economics class, a stupid credit that you all complain about. you see the two walk around on campus all the time and it surprised you seeing how well those two got along. once you learn more about them, it seemed that they both were the same, loud and arrogant, just hidden under the stress of college.

nerd!gojo and frat boy!geto never tended to go for the same girl. they didn't really share a type, so hooking up with girls wasn't an issue. until you came strolling into their life. "no, i should ask her out! i'm the one who she smiled at first," gojo argued, pushing his glasses up. geto's eyes narrowed, mocking gojo's motion. "do you fuckin' hear yourself? no, i'm asking her out, get over it."

nerd!gojo and frat boy!geto eventually talked things through and realized that everything could work out. these two definitely had feelings for each other, now it was getting you to join along.

nerd!gojo and frat boy!geto came on strong. you all were at a party on campus, enjoying a few drinks before they dove in for the kill. one stood in front of you while the other placed his broad hand on your ribs, pulling you close. you'd never admit it out loud, but this was something out of the constant wet dreams you'd have about these two. and fuck, was it fantastic to feel both of their cocks nudge against your body, already so desperate after a mere swirl of your hips.

nerd!gojo and frat boy!geto had you in the eiffel position in the upstairs bathroom. bass pounded, thrumming in your chest while you slobbered over gojo's cock, running your tongue over his thick vein. geto was hitting hard from behind, his hand striking your ass multiple times just to feel your wet pussy clench around his cock.

nerd!gojo and frat boy!geto shared a sloppy kiss while they went down on you, both of them lapping up suguru's cum from your cunt. their tongues gently flicked against your clit before their swollen lips met in the middle, alternating between sucking on each other's tongues and suckling on your swollen clit. you both guide their heads, bringing their swollen lips together in another messy kiss, watching geto's cum dribble down gojo's lips.

nerd!gojo and frat boy!geto ended up in your bed that night, all three of you squeezed tight. gojo half laid on you while geto spooned you, his arms wrapped tight around the both of you. they both sighed, more than content with this new little dynamic.

do not copy, repost, or use any works. © 2025 fshgrs

[gtgbabie0]

જ⁀➴ . . . period comfort with Robert ᝰ.ᐟ

You were dying. okay, maybe that’s a little overdramatic, but you really did feel like absolute garbage. The joys of having periods you suppose, the cramps, the back ache, the hormones that left you sobbing at every tiny thing that Beef did— you even blubbered when Robert offered to go to the shop for you.

He had just gotten back, you could hear him from the bedroom where you’ve been curled up all day— legs tucked towards you’re chest with your face buried into the pillows, writhing in both pain and discomfort, the second day was always the worst.

“Go find your mom.” His voice breaks gently through the stillness of the silence, then Beef suddenly comes barrelling into the bedroom with a bark before jumping onto the bed via the little steps that you brought because he was a little too stubby to get up by himself.

You push yourself up to sit cross-legged with a small wince as your lower abdomen cramps up, but you push throught it. “hey, you chunky boy.” you coo, scratching behind his ears as you watch him flop onto his back, staring up at you expectantly, waiting for you to pet his belly— the little menace never failed at lifting your spirits.

Robert walks into the room a few moments later with that long hot water bottle he wrestles with at least once every month, and a plastic bag full of goodies that you quickly rummage through as soon as he drops it onto the bed by your legs.

“This thing is a pain in the ass to fill up.” He grumbles with a hint of amusement in his gruff voice, the fond type that comes out whenever he’s in caretaker mode— fussing over you like you were dying of the plague and not just menstruating, not that you’d ever complain, of course.

You smirk at his words, imagining him fighting with the thing to try and fill it up without burning himself or spilling the water everywhere.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up— just, c’mere, let me get this where it hurts.” he plops himself down on the bed beside you, gently curling the hot water bottle around your waist so the warmth of it can sink into the ache in your lower back and the cramps that were still wracking through your lower abdomen unforgivingly.

“Mm, thank you,” you breathe out, leaning back against him with a heavy sigh of relief— letting your shoulders drop as he keeps the hot water bottle in place from where he sits behind you.

“You don’t have to thank me for anything, just relax.” He says, turning his head to brush a kiss to your temple as his arms wrap around you gently.

“Still, you’ve been so nice and patient, and I’ve been-”

“In pain. Now stop acting like you don’t enjoy me taking care of you.” you feel him grin against your shoulder when you groan in reluctant agreement, because yeah you really did love it when he spoiled you.

Robert watches you search through the bag from over your shoulder, pulling out pads with an amused hum. “Oh wow, you got them with wings?— you know your stuff.”

“Don’t give me too much credit, I stood in the menstrual aisle for five minutes contemplating whether or not ‘ultra’ was overkill.”

“Not overkill, just extra safe.” You tell him with a giggle before going back to look through the contents of the bag— gummies, your favourite chocolate, a bottle of flavoured water, and extra painkillers for when the pain gets too unbearable.

“So they’re good, yeah?”

“Yeah, this is amazing— you’re amazing.” the slight quiver in your voice makes his heart clench, and he shuffles to sit by your side, his hand resting against the side of your face to make you look at him. you quickly catch yourself, swallowing back the emotions, letting out a weary exhale, “I’m not gonna cry again.”

“You can cry all you want, it’ll feel better to just let it out.” He teases gently, his thumb brushes over your warm cheek, wiping away the few stray tears that escape your watery eyes. “But maybe we should at least put on a movie so you have a better excuse for the tears.”

A faint giggle catches in your chest, and you nod your head, leaning into his palm and god, he thinks you might just be the most precious thing in the world when you’re all hormonal like this.

He pulls you into his chest with a hushed, “I’ve got you,” until your head is tucked under his chin and you melt in his embrace, humming lowly in approval when he dips one hand under your shirt to gently massage the ache away from your cramping tummy whilst the other thumbs at the remote to flick the TV on.

“Feeling better now?” He murmurs against your hairline, brushing a few feather light kisses there as you snuggle closer into him with a quiet, “mhm, much— just keep massaging.” and he drawls back a lazy, “yes ma’am,” a grin in his voice.

You don’t make it to the credits before you’re snoring against his chest, lost in the warmth of both him and the hot water bottle that was still curled around you— chocolate half eaten and the gummies completely gone. Robert doesn’t move an inch, not wanting to disturb the peace that you’ve found, and apparently, Beef too, who curls up into his side, even if it means getting a bad case of pins and needles later.

જ⁀➴ Dispatch Masterlist જ⁀➴ General Masterlist

AN: this is super duper self indulgent because I’m so over my period. I hate it.

[edawgz]

ᯓ★ UNDEAD HEART

♯┆ [robert robertson x vampire!fem reader] INCLUDES.ᐟ

⤿ ROBERT ROBERTSON never would've believed someone who told him he would be desperately wanting to date a woman who was centuries old. Then he met you.

!! fluff. silly. fem reader. z team cameos. reader speaks like she came from colonial america LMAO. this was so fun i wanna do more vampire reader dynamics. slowburn vibe. yearner. BASED OFF OF THIS YUMMM. ENJOY.

The fluorescent lights of the SDN office hummed their usual monotonous tune, but you'd learned to tune them out after working here for far too long. What you couldn't ignore was the way Robert Robertson's heartbeat quickened every time you walked past his cubicle. It was a steady thrum that called to something primal in your undead veins.

"You know, most people use the door," Robert said without looking up from his screen, his fingers flying across the keyboard. "But I guess when you're a vampire, walls are more like suggestions."

You leaned against his desk, close enough that your hip brushed his arm. His warmth radiated through the thin fabric of his shirt, a stark contrast to your perpetual chill. "I did use the door. You were simply too focused on whatever it is you are... hacking? Is that the correct term? Into to notice."

"I'm not hacking. I'm... creatively accessing information." He finally glanced up, and those tired eyes that always somehow flickering with determination, met yours. A smirk played at the corner of his mouth. "And I always notice when you're around. Your presence has a certain... bite to it."

"Wonderful. Vampire puns. That is what we are doing this evening?"

"I've got a million of them. What can I say? I'm a sucker for wordplay." He spun his chair to face you fully, and suddenly the space between you felt charged. "See what I did there?"

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't suppress your smile. This had become your routine over the past few weeks. As someone who was unfortunately allergic to the damn sun, you had no choice but to work nights. Robert, on the other hand, was very much human and very much choosing to be here, and the banter between the two of you had only continued to escalate as the nights went on.

"Your puns are dreadful," you sighed, reaching past him to collect the incident report from his desk. The movement brought you closer, your arm brushing his shoulder. You felt him tense, heard his breath catch. "But I suppose someone must keep you company while you brood over your... keyboard."

"I don't brood. Brooding is for vampires and Batman." He caught your wrist gently as you pulled back, his thumb resting against your pulse point.. or rather, where your pulse would be if you had one. His touch was warm, almost burning against your deathly cool skin. "I strategically contemplate."

"Is that what we are calling it?" You didn't pull away, neither did he.

For a moment, you both stayed frozen like that, his hand wrapped around your wrist, his eyes searching yours. You could hear everything — the rush of blood through his veins, the steady rhythm of his heart, the slight hitch in his breathing. It would be so easy to close the distance between you, to find out if his lips were as warm as the rest of him.

"Robertson, we've got a lost dog situation on the east side-.." The voice crackled over the communication system, shattering the moment. Robert's hand dropped from your wrist as he spun back to his console, his professional mask sliding into place.

"Copy that. This one's for you Prism, have fun." His fingers danced across the keyboard, pulling up camera feeds and tactical information. "Ooookay, so Golem, Flambae you're joining her because someone called in that this is actually a dog fighting ring run by some Red Ring assholes." This was where he shined — even without his mech suit, even without the Mecha Man persona, he was still brilliant at this.

You moved behind his chair, under the guise of getting a better look at the screens, though in all honesty you found the glowing displays beyond interesting. All these moving images and symbols, it was nothing like the simple exchanges you'd grown accustomed to in your all your years. "Are you thinking about suiting up?"

"I don't have a suit to put on anymore. Remember?" His voice carried that familiar edge of bitterness that came when an emotion was still raw. "I'm just the guy behind the desk now. The washed up hero playing in the office."

"You are the man who is coordinating a team of heroes that, likely, save a dozen lives this evening." You squeezed his shoulder, feeling the warmth of him seep into your palm. "And you are doing it better than anyone else here could."

He reached up, his hand hesitating above yours before giving it a few friendly and restrained pats. "You know, for a soulless creature of the night, you're surprisingly good at pep talks."

"Who says I am soulless? That is merely propaganda from the vampire hunters'." You leaned down, your lips close to his ear. Close enough that you knew he could feel the whisper of your breath, which was truthfully a useless habit, but one you'd never broken. "Besides, Chase showed me your... browser history? I believe that is what he called it. You are not exactly in a position to judge anyone's soul."

"That was one time, and I was researching-.." He turned his head to protest, and suddenly your faces were inches apart. You could see the flecks of gold in his eyes, the faint stubble on his jaw, the way his pupils dilated as he looked at you. His heart was racing now, a steady beat that made your eyes widen and fixate on him. "I was doing legitimate research on vampire mythology."

"Certainly you were." Your voice came out lower, flirtier than you intended. "And I am quite certain that vampire procreation was purely academic research."

"Maybe I wanted to know more about you." His admission was quiet, vulnerable in a way that Robert Robertson rarely allowed himself to be. "Maybe I wanted to understand what it's like. Being what you are. Living in the night, and watching everyone else age while you stay the same."

The honesty in his voice made something in your chest tighten, an echo of the heart that could no longer beat. "It is lonely," you admitted. "Most of the time, it is profoundly lonely. People either fear you or fetishize you. They do not see you as simply... you. I have watched empires rise and fall, seen wars that reshaped the world, and yet the isolation remains my one constant."

"I see you." His hand came up, retracted, then came returned to cup your jaw, his thumb tracing your cheekbone. The touch was gentle, restrained, and so warm it almost hurt. "I see someone who brings perfectly lukewarm coffee. Someone who laughs at my terrible jokes, thank you for that one by the way. Someone who's been around for decades but still gets excited about-... wait, what do you even watch? I've never actually seen you watch TV."

You couldn't help but laugh. "I confess, I find most modern entertainment rather perplexing. All these programs about people seeking companionship through elaborate competitions — it seems rather undignified compared to a proper courtship. Though I admit, it is fascinating in its absurdity."

"You're talking about Love Island, aren't you? You've been watching Love Island." His grin was delighted. "Wow... you're like three hundred years old and you're hooked on reality TV."

"I am not 'hooked.' I am merely... observing modern mating rituals." You tried to sound dignified, but his laughter was infectious. "And I am considerably older than three hundred, I will have you know."

"I like that about you." His thumb moved to trace your lower lip, and you saw his gaze drop to your mouth. "I like that you're this ancient, powerful lady who still can't figure out how to work the coffee maker without pressing every button and hoping for the best."

"That machine is unnecessarily complicated," you protested, eyebrows furrowed and your lips pulling into a slight frown. "In my day, one simply heated water over a fire. These 'settings' and 'programs' are utterly unnecessary-.."

"I know. I know all the reasons this is a bad idea." His voice was rough, strained, cutting through your complaint. It made you stop instantly though, your eyes searching his face in a way that was almost hopeful.

"You're immortal. I'm human. You drink blood. I'm made of blood. You're going to watch me grow old and die while you stay young and beautiful. The logistics are a fucking nightmare."

"Do not forget the part where I could accidentally kill you if I lose control." You tried to inject some levity into your voice, but it came out shaky. "That is rather a significant concern."

"Yeah, but you won't." His certainty was absolute, and only solidified by the grin that appeared lazily on his face. "You've had plenty of opportunities. That time I got injured in the field and was bleeding all over the place? That was like my second day here and I was sure I was a goner. Or when we worked that double shift and I fell asleep at my desk. You could have done anything, but you just threw a blanket over me and kept working."

"You appeared cold," you murmured, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth causing the points of your fangs to poke out ever so slightly.

"I was cold. You fixed it." He pulled you closer, guiding you around the chair until you were standing between his legs, his hands settling on your hips. "You're always fixing things. Making things better. You act like you're this dangerous creature, but you're the most careful person I know."

"I must be careful. The alternative is-..."

"I know. I get it." His hands slid up your sides, leaving trails of heat against you. "But maybe you can stop being careful for just a minute. Maybe we both can."

Your hands found his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart beneath your palms. It would be so easy to kiss him but the fear held you back. You couldn't help the fear of hurting him, of losing control, of starting something that could only end in pain. You had loved before, centuries ago, and watched them all turn to dust while you stayed the same.

"I am frightened," you admitted in a whisper that came out much shakier than you had anticipated.

"Yeah. Me too." He breathed out with a chuckle that wasn't as humorous as most people's laughs were. "But I'm also tired of pretending I don't feel this. Whatever this is."

"This is dangerous."

"I used to pilot a giant mech suit into combat against supervillains. Danger is kind of my thing." His smile was crooked and self deprecating. "Or it was, anyway. Now I'm just a guy who's falling for a vampire and has absolutely no fucking idea what he's doing."

"Falling?" Your voice cracked on the word.

"Yeah. Falling. Plummeting, really. It's a whole thing." His hands tightened on your hips. "So what do you say? Want to catch me?"

You looked at him, really looked at him. At the hope and fear that were both fighting in his eyes, at the vulnerability he was offering you, at the warmth and life and humanity that radiated from him. You thought about all the lonely years, all the people who'd come and gone, all the times you'd kept yourself away from the world to keep yourself from getting hurt or hurting someone else again. You thought of gaslit streets and horse drawn carriages, of wars fought with muskets and swords, of all the centuries you'd lived... alone.

And then you thought about lukewarm coffee and terrible puns and the way he always made sure you had the comfortable chair during long shifts. You thought about how he'd never once looked at you with fear, only with curiosity and respect and, lately, with something that made your dead heart feel almost alive again. How he patiently explained the purpose of each button on that damn coffee machine, how he'd helped you understand what "streaming" meant, how he'd laughed, and not unkindly, when you'd asked if the "web" was something spiders had created.

"Your timing is dreadful," you sighed, your lips quirking into a smile. "We are in the middle of a shift. There is active symbols appearing on the screen as well."

"I know." He was smiling too, that crooked grin that made him look younger and less burdened. "Soooo.. is that a no?"

You slid your hands up his chest, over his shoulders, until your fingers tangled in his hair. "That is a 'we shall discuss this properly when we are off duty.'"

"But?" He leaned into your touch, his eyes never leaving yours.

"But perhaps just one-.."

The communication system crackled to life again, louder this time. "You realize the mic has been on the whole time right, Bobby?"

You both froze, your eyes wide and full of embarrassment, Robert on the other hand just groaned, "You're fucking joking."

"No, we heard the whole thing dude." Sonar's voice piped up again. As Robert pressed one of the speakers to his ear he could hear the laughing of the others.

"You realize she is like.. centuries old right?" Malevola asked, the amusement present in her voice.

"Good on ya, Robby. Never took ya as the vampire type." Punch Up barked out a laugh and then suddenly, all of it went quiet when Robert hit a button on the keyboard and turned his attention back to you with a beyond tired look.

"I suppose you are required by your team again," A small, sheepish smile tugged at the corner of your darkly painted lips.

"Unfortunately."

You hummed, your fingers sliding out of his hair oh so slowly, hesitating over his shoulders. "When this shift concludes, you will take me to dinner. Well, you shall have dinner. I shall simply observe in what you assure me is not a creepy manner whatsoever."

His laugh was warm and genuine. "It's a date. Fair warning though — I'm going to order something with a lot of garlic just to see what happens."

"I despise you."

"No, you don't." He was already turning back to his console, but the smile on his face was incandescent. "You're falling too. Admit it."

You didn't answer, but as you walked away to handle your own work, carefully avoiding the blinking devices you still didn't quite understand, but you couldn't stop smiling.

← BACK. ᝰ.ᐟ edawgz 2025.

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