valko pays for your claws nails so you'll scratch tf out of his back!
content: fem reader, scratching, blood from scratching, sex, piv, mating press, not proofread
wc: 860
a/n: there is no war in ba sing se. there is no valko cancellation. forget about him being nuked and read this.
your hands smooth over the muscular expanse of valko’s back, dull nails tracing the dips and curves. he shivers and pushes back into your fingers, purring slightly. he shuffles food around in the popping skillet, looking at you over his shoulder.
“i like your back.” you mumble and pepper kisses against it.
valko smirks and steps back, crowding you. “it’s looking a little bare, don’t you think?”
“mmm? looks fine to me.”
“it would look better than fine if someone marked it up.” he turns the skillet off and turns to face you, grabbing your hands and maneuvering them into a clawing gesture.
valko chuckles and ‘grrs’ for you, pretending like you’re some vicious predator.
you raise an eyebrow and look at your short nails. “won’t that hurt?”
he holds your nails in his palms and presses on the edge of them, feeling for the sharpness. “sweetheart, these wouldn’t even hurt a pup. you remember i’m a werewolf, riiight?” he smiles. “i’ve been scratched by newborns with longer claws.”
you hum and consider it. “well… even if i did want to scratch you, my nails would break before they got long enough.”
valko pats the tops of your hands and lets them go, going back to cooking. “i’ll pay for you to get acrylics. any shape, length, color you want- you could even get a design.”
“are you sure?” you ask skeptically. despite knowing that your boyfriend was rich rich, you still felt bad spending his money.
the very next day, you had long stiletto nails in a deep plum color.
valko was ecstatic when he saw them, but paused when he examined them further. you’d gotten his initials painted on your ring fingers- a suggestion from the nail artist. you’d been worried it was too much… what if valko didn’t like it?
…valko liked it. probably a little too much, considering how he was fucking you so deep into the memory foam mattress that you were sure your indentation would be there for years to come.
“nnghhhh!! ‘ko- shit!” you breathed out, gasping for air as his thick cock drilled against your cervix.
your nails pressed dully into his skin, not quite scratching or piercing the skin.
valko groaned and moved forward, pressing your knees fully beside your head into a deep mating press. “scratch me. dig your nails in- hmmmm.” he whined out.
you pressed down harder, raking your nails down the expanse of his back and raising the skin in red streaks.
“yes- fuck, perfect. harder, dig in harder, i know you’re strong. show me how strong you are.” valko’s breath hitched and he let out a pleased moan when you followed his instructions.
you whined and babbled incoherently about how good he felt, how deep he was in you while your nails left scratches on his back in every direction.
you mindlessly clawed at his skin, searching desperately for something to hold onto and he fucked you harder than you’d ever felt.
“s’ good.. such a good mate, so accommodating, scratching the shit out of me.” valko praises, voice gruff in your ear.
“mmhmmm.” you whine. he switches his angle ever so slightly, hitting upward and bullying the spot deep inside you that makes your vision white out.
you screech and dig your nails into his back hard, hard enough to make him groan and stutter.
“fuck! cumming- cu- shit, holy shit.” valko moans out, collapsing on top of you as he fills you the condom full of his thick cum.
you’re both in a hazy sort of bliss that only sex can give for a handful of minutes after. you’re only brought out of it when valko stands to go get a warm towel for you and your eyes meet his back- your canvas.
you gasp and sit up weakly. "valko!”
valko turns, on high alert and scanning the room. “what- what? fuck, don’t scare me like that-”
“your back is bleeding!” you interrupt, crawling towards him on shaky limbs.
valko pauses and reaches to touch his back, looking at his bloody fingers. “oh.”
“i’m so sorry- oh my god, i’m evil, i’m terrible!” you ramble, tears brimming your eyes.
when you look up at valko, he’s… smiling?! ear to ear, at that! “what the hell is the matter with you?! i injured you!” you yell, tossing a pillow at him in frustration.
valko smiles and walks to the edge of the bed, cradling your cheek with his clean hand. “you marked me up, just like every good mate should. here, take a picture for me.” he grabs his phone from the nightstand and hands it to you, turning around.
you open the camera and snap a picture, trying not to drool over it. you’d marked him up good- he had red streaks in all directions, blood trickling from most of them. weirdly, the sight made a new wetness form between your legs.
valko looked at the picture cleared his throat, a flush rising on his cheek. something else rose, right beside your face, thick and leaking pre again.
since that day, your nails were always done and valko’s back was always painted ruby red.
a/n: no one be sad!!!! everyone be happy!! valko lives on, i promiseeee yall everything will be okay. do you really think mama rhi would let anything happen to our valko? no!!
pairing: bf!valko x reader
synopsis: you prank your anti-deforestation boyfriend by telling him you shaved your bush...
cw: suggestive but no explicit content, established relationship, fluff, kinda crack-fick
wc: 700
a/n: he's soooo cute in this photo ugh
Valko masterlist
“You did what?”
“I shaved it off, Valko.” you repeat for the second time.
He stares at you, conflicted and confused. His eyebrows are knit together tightly in a frown.
“Why?” he blinks at you a couple times.
“I thought it would be less bothersome for you.” you shrug, holding your smile back.
“You—” he starts but loses his words halfway. “Okay wait, I need a moment.” he huffs in disbelief. Leaning back against the counter behind him, his hand comes up to rub at the bottom half of his face.
You fold your arms over your chest and look around the kitchen, avoiding his gaze to try and not laugh.
“Why would you think it’s bothersome for me? Did I do something to make you think that?” he asks, his tone softer. Clearly, this was a very serious matter to him.
You shake your head in response. “No… I mean, I just assumed. Most men don’t like that.”
“Most men??— baby, what about what Valko likes?” he stares down at you, distraught and betrayed.
Your eyes widen and you chuckle shortly. “Did you just refer to yourself in third person?”
He ignores your question, and before you know it, your feet are lifted off the ground and his large palms are holding onto your hips as he sets you down on the counter.
“What are you doing—” you gasp.
“Show me. I wanna see it.” he requests, completely serious.
“Are you crazy?! Why?”
“Because I don’t believe you. I know that you know I love your bush.”
You scoff at him in disbelief. “I’m not showing you anything!”
“Why? ‘Cause you lied?” he tilts his head closer to you.
“No—because now’s not the time.” you stutter a bit, clearly caught red-handed.
“Haven’t heard that one before.” He raises an eyebrow, his smirk growing. “You’re usually eager—”
You cut him off by putting your hands over his mouth. He laughs into them before swiping his tongue, licking them. You pull away immediately, as if you’d been burned.
A beat of silence passes as you wipe your wet palm against the fabric of his shirt. He doesn’t seem to mind, he doesn’t even flinch, evidently used to it.
The two of you stare at each other in silence, your hand remains atop his shoulder where you just wiped it. You watch him as he carefully lowers himself on his knees, eyes remaining glued to you the entire time. His hands move to rest on your knees.
You feel your face burn up and immediately tighten your grip on his shoulder. “Okay fine—it was a prank!” you blurt out.
He freezes in his movements. “Really?”
You look away, and then back at him momentarily to nod.
His hands still holding your knees, he closes them and rests his forehead against them while breathing out a sigh of relief. “You scared me for a second there.”
You chuckle at the sight, your hand finding its way to his burgundy locks. “That scary, huh?”
He leans into your hand, tilting his head sideways, and stares up at you as you continue brushing your fingers through his hair. “Yeah, you owe me an apology.”
You start scratching a particular spot you knew he liked. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry.”
He hums at the sensation, closing his eyes and enjoying your caress. His ears pop out suddenly, and you notice his tail swishing behind him. When he opens his eyes again, they hold a different intent. A heavier one.
“I think you’re gonna have to give me more than an apology…” he grins.
You quirk an eyebrow, and before you can speak, he stands back up and lifts you into his arms. Your hands immediately find his firm shoulders for balance.
His face is flushed now, and his eyes are dim. “... can I?” he pleas softly, waiting for your approval.
Noticing you leaning down towards him, he lowers you so you’re face to face with him. You press your lips to his tenderly. “... yes, you can.”
His breathing is steady and he seems calm, but his rapidly wagging tail behind him gives him away.
The two of you remain quiet as he carries you to your room and sets you down on the mattress, already understanding each other without using words.
getting drunk and nasty in the back of a limo with Valko😛😛
cw: drunk car sex, valko calls reader puppy
a/n: missing my man so bad
cw: drunk car sex, also kinda semi public sex, valko calls the reader puppy.
Valko had taken you to a charity gala with him and wanting to make a good first impression with all of his colleagues you accepted every drink that was handed to you quickly losing count after the first three. By the end of the night you were struggling to keep yourself upright and your thoughts pure, just body was still defined in his suit, you'd seen him in plenty of suits before, all you could do was blame the alcohol. You pressed your thighs together as if the dull ache suddenly started would go away.
Valko smelled the change in your scent from across the room, his cock immediately twitching in his pants.
"This wet from thinking about me?" He teased dragging a finger over the wet spot of your panties. You held back a whimper as he slowly circled your clit through the soaked cloth. He was on his knees in front of you, your legs over his shoulders keeping you flat on your back on the couch like seats of the limousine.
"Cmon puppy, you can tell me." He cooed his mouth grazing over just where you needed it most. Your hips twitched upward, desperately trying to follow his mouth but he easily held you in place. You held up the bottom of your dress to keep him in view.
"Yes." You choked out. You could feel him smile from between your thighs. He backed away just enough to slip your panties off
"Let me help you puppy." He mumbled pressing gentle kisses from your ankle down to your inner thigh until he got to your clit. His golden eyes locking onto yours as began attacking your clit with his tongue while slipping a finger inside of you. You whined, trying to keep quiet but Valko was making it impossible. He'd added a second finger. You gripped your dress tighter as he curled his finger upward into that soft spot that made you fall apart within minutes every time.
Your hips bucked up trying to keep up with the speed of his fingers, you hadn't expected the alcohol to make everything feel so intense. Your legs were already trembling around his head threatening to close on him when he'd only just started.
"You taste so good." He groaned from between your thighs, you could hear just how wet you were with every thrust of his fingers. He used one hand to hold one leg away, he sounded like a starved man with the way he was moaning and slurping from between your legs.
"Make a mess on my tongue." He growled slipping out his soaked fingers rubbing them across your clit. Your toes curled behind him as your body arched off the seat, you slapped a hand over your mouth muffling a scream. Valko didn't let up, he wanted every drop of you.
---
"Fuck." He grunted "Is this what you wanted?" The sound of his voice alone was enough to make you cum again. He's put you on top of him like you were going to ride him but quickly changed his mind. Your legs were thrown over his shoulders again, your chest squished against his as he held you tightly against him, using you like a toy. His cock slammed up into the deepest parts of you, your arms looped around his neck unable to hold on like normal with how quickly he was going. You squirmed in his lap frantically, the deep intrusion inside you while already being so sensitive was making the pleasure unbearable.
"Too much!" You babbled into his jacket. Valko shook his head.
"You can take it." He said through gritted teeth as he continued fucking into you like he was in heat. You bit down on his jacket letting the fabric soak up all the cries.
"Let me hear you." He groaned pulling your head back by your hair forcing another cry from you. Every whine and whimper seemed to spur him on.
"M'gonna cum!" You squealed, dizzy from pleasure and alcohol. Before you could process anything Valko flipped your position. Your back pressed onto the seat again as he climbed on top of you. You swore he was rutting into you with enough force to tip the car over. His nails dug into your thighs as you came hard around him. The sound you made along with the feeling of your cunt gushing around him was the final thing that sent him over the edge, his last sloppy thrusts making your vision blur at the sides. Both of you panted softly as you came down from your high.
"You can say no to some drinks next time, no one will think any less of you." He said pressing a kiss to your forehead.
bestfriend!yuji who thinks that he has no chance with you (he definitely does)
fluff
it was getting entirely out of hand, to the point where megumi’s left eye had developed a microscopic, rhythmic twitch whenever all of you were in the same room.
there was a distinct difference between being a good friend and whatever it was that yuji was doing. yuji wasn’t operating on normal human frequencies anymore; he was a highly concentrated wave of devotion that required him to subconsciously monitor your exact coordinates, comfort levels, and nutritional needs at all times. the truly agonizing part of this whole situation was that yuji honestly, genuinely believed he was pining from a tragic, unrequited distance.
“man,” yuji sighed, his chin resting heavily on his arms as he slumped over the small wooden table in the break room. he looked like a golden retriever that had been left out in the rain, despite the fact that he was perfectly dry and had eaten three bowls of rice an hour ago. “i just... i don’t know how guys like gojo-sensei do it. how do you even get someone like that to notice you? she’s so cool. fushiguro, be honest, do you think she likes guys who can cook? i could learn how to bake those fancy little french pastries. the ones with the layers. do you think she’d like that?”
megumi didn’t look up from his book. he simply turned the page, his knuckles whitening slightly against the paper. “itadori. you made her bento this morning. it was shaped like a bear.”
“that was just a nutritional baseline!” yuji defended instantly, sitting up with a look of pure, desperate longing in his eyes. “a person needs a balanced breakfast! that doesn’t mean she wants to hold my hand during a movie! i’m practically invisible to her, man. i’m just the guy who hangs around and breathes her oxygen. if i asked her out, she’d probably laugh and think i was pulling a prank. my heart would literally disintegrate into ash. like a cursed spirit, fushiguro. gone.”
megumi finally closed his book with a soft, ominous thud. he stared at his friend, trying to calculate how much brain damage yuji had sustained in his life to arrive at this specific level of dense. “yesterday, she said she was slightly warm, and you constructed a makeshift fan out of cardboard within four seconds. you didn’t even use cursed energy. you just moved your hands really fast.”
“that’s just basic manners!”
“you carried her up three flights of stairs because her shoelaces were untied and you didn’t want her to trip,” megumi countered, his voice dangerously level.
“the stairs were slippery!” yuji wailed, burying his face in his hands. “you don’t get it. she’s like... a masterpiece. and i’m just a guy who knows how to do a kickflip. i have no chance. zero. negative numbers.”
before megumi could commit a felony, the sliding door opened, and you walked in alongside nobara. the second your shoes crossed the threshold, yuji’s entire posture changed. it was an instantaneous shift; his spine straightened, his ears practically perked up, and his eyes locked onto you with a degree of focus usually reserved for high-stakes exorcisms.
“hey,” you said, offering a small, tired smile as you dropped into the empty chair next to yuji. “the training grounds are freezing today. i think the wind is coming straight from the mountains.”
yuji didn’t say a word. he didn’t even look at his own hands as they moved with the practiced efficiency of a surgeon. within three seconds, he had took off his oversized, fleece-lined red hoodie, shrugged it off himself, and gently helped you put it on. he tucked the soft fabric around you, his fingers lingering for just a fraction of a second against your collarbone to make sure the chill was sealed out, before pulling his hands back and shoving them into his uniform pockets.
“thanks,” you mumbled, instantly buried in his warmth and the faint, comforting scent of laundry detergent and whatever body wash he used. you pulled the sleeves over your hands, sinking into the collar.
“yeah, of course,” yuji said, his voice dropping into a soft, casual register that completely contradicted the fact that his internal organs were currently performing backflips. “can’t have you catching a cold. you’ve got that exam tomorrow, right? need your brain working at a hundred percent.”
nobara paused, her hand hovering over the back of a chair as she watched this sequence of events play out. she looked at yuji, then at you buried in his giant hoodie, then over at megumi, whose jaw was clenched so tightly he looked like a gargoyle.
“hey, yuji,” you said, reaching into your pocket and pulling out a slightly bruised mandarin orange you’d grabbed from the cafeteria. “do you have a knife? the skin on this one is really thick.”
“i got it,” he said immediately.
he took the orange from your hand. yuji didn’t use a knife. he used his thumbs, peeling the rind away in one seamless, removing the little white strings so you wouldn’t have to deal with the mess. his fingers were steady, careful, and incredibly gentle as he split the fruit into perfect, individual segments. he laid them out neatly on a clean napkin he’d pulled from literally nowhere, pushing the finished product toward you with a small, encouraging nod.
“there you go. the sweet ones are usually the smaller pieces,” he murmured, his eyes tracking your expression to ensure you were satisfied.
“you’re a lifesaver,” you said, popping a segment into your mouth.
yuji’s face remained entirely neutral, but megumi could see the way the boy’s legs were practically vibrating under the table from the sheer rush of being praised. it was pathetic. it was magnificent. it was driving megumi to the brink of insanity.
“so,” nobara started, leaning against the counter and crossing her arms. her eyes narrowed as she watched yuji reach over, pick up your heavy leather canvas bag from the floor, and settle it comfortably over his own knee so it wouldn’t get dirty. “itadori. can i ask you a question?”
“hmm?” yuji looked up, his hand still resting protectively near your side of the table. “what’s up, kugisaki?”
“what did you do an hour ago?”
“i went to the convenience store down the street,” he said, blinking innocently.
“and what did you buy?”
“oh! i got that specific chocolate drink with the milk and two pumps of vanilla. the one with the extra meringue sprinkled on top.” yuji reached down into his bag and pulled out the plastic cup, which was perfectly chilled, sweating slightly against his palm. he placed it right next to your napkin of oranges, straw already unwrapped and inserted. “here. they finally had the good meringue back in stock.”
you blinked, looking up from your fruit. “wait, really? they told me yesterday they were out until next week.”
“i asked the guy to check the back crates,” yuji said, giving you a bright, close-eyed grin that could have easily powered a small metropolitan area. “told him it was an emergency. he found a whole tin of it.”
megumi made a sound in the back of his throat that sounded like a dying bird.
nobara stared. she stared at the chocolate drink, then at the peeled oranges, then at the enormous red hoodie currently engulfing your torso. she looked at yuji’s face, which was full of nothing but pure, desperate desire to please you, completely devoid of any realization that he was acting like a husband of ten years.
slowly, with the deliberate precision of a predator stalking its prey, nobara walked around the table. she didn’t say a word until she was standing directly behind yuji. then, with a sudden, violent burst of movement, she reached down, grabbed a fistful of his inner uniform collar, and yanked him backward out of his chair.
“woah! kugisaki—choking! choking!” yuji gasped, his hands flying to his throat as she dragged him a few feet away from the table.
“shut up,” nobara hissed, her voice a terrifying whisper as she pointed a manicured finger directly at you, who was currently taking a sip of the perfectly customized latte. “look at that. look at her.”
“i’m looking!” yuji squeaked, his cheeks flushing a violent, immediate pink. “she looks great! the hoodie suits her, right? do you think i should buy her one for her birthday? or is that too forward? maybe a scarf? a scarf is safer—”
“yuji,” nobara interrupted, her voice dropping into a range that promised physical violence. “what the hell? i thought you guys were dating?”
yuji froze. his entire body went rigid, his eyes widening to the size of dinner plates as his brain completely stalled out, the gears grinding to a screeching halt. “w-what?” he whispered, the syllable popping out of him like a deflating balloon. “dating? us? no! no way! we’re not—i mean, i wish, but no! why would you say that? don’t say that out loud, she’ll hear you and get weirded out and then i’ll have to move to a different country!”
“are you sharing a single brain cell with the curses you fight?” nobara demanded, shaking him by his collar until his pink hair flew in every direction. “you peeled her fruit! you gave her your clothes! you went into the back storage room of a convenience store for a specific topping because she mentioned it once days ago!”
“that’s just being neighborly!” yuji yelled back in a panicked whisper, his hands flailing. “if fushiguro wanted an orange, i’d peel it for him too!”
“if you touch my food, i will sever your fingers,” megumi said from the table, not looking up.
“see? fushiguro’s just picky!” yuji argued, turning back to nobara with a look of absolute, soul-crushing earnestness. “i’m not dating her, kugisaki. i’m just... trying really hard to be a good friend so she keeps letting me sit next to her. if i told her how i actually feel, she’d realize i’m just a big dummy who follows her around like a stray dog.”
nobara let go of his collar so abruptly that yuji stumbled backward, hitting the wall with a soft *thud*. she stared at him, her expression a mix of profound disgust and deep, spiritual exhaustion. “you.. are a medical marvel,” she muttered, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “i genuinely don’t know how you survive on a daily basis.”
“hey, yuji?” your voice cut through the tension, clear and soft from across the room.
yuji was back at the table before nobara could even blink, his entire demeanor resetting into that attentive, hovering stance. “yeah! what’s up? is the drink bad? is it too sweet? i can go back—”
“no, it’s perfect,” you said, looking up at him through your eyelashes, your fingers curling around the warm ceramic of your hands inside his large sleeves. a very real, very noticeable shy smile had crept it’s way to your pretty face. “i was just wondering... if you weren’t busy tonight, maybe you could help me study? and... i don’t know. we could get dinner after? just the two of us?”
yuji stopped. the entire world seemed to drop away around him. his heart gave a massive, violent thud against his ribs, his chest tightening in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with training or stamina. he looked at the shy smile on your face, the way your fingers were twisting the hem of his hoodie, and something in his chest completely melted into puddle of warm, gooey mush. he knew damn well he didn’t know shit about math.
“yeah,” yuji said, his voice softer than usual, a genuine, completely unforced smile breaking across his face as he leaned down slightly, bringing himself to your eye level. “i’d love to. i’ll make sure you pass that test, okay? whatever you want to eat, it’s on me.”
from the corner of the room, nobara let out a loud, dramatic groan, throwing her hands in the air as she turned toward the exit. “i can’t do this anymore. fushiguro, we’re leaving before the sheer density of his skull creates a black hole and swallows the school.”
“agreed,” megumi said, already standing up and slipping his book into his pocket, passing yuji with a look that said you owe me your life.
as the door slid shut behind them, yuji didn’t even notice. he was already pulling up another chair, drawing himself right next to you, his shoulder brushing against yours as he reached out to slide the rest of the oranges closer to your hand.
Erid is a very big planet, very very very big planet, twice the size of earth in fact- and divided by oceans, perfect conditions for populations to remain and develop separately and for long enough to create diferent species. So, unlike us, Eridians are a Polytypic genus: there's more than one species of sapient eridian, All of them sharing a common ancestor in the form of a small, 5 legged ambush-hunter land carnivore, all share common traits taking only slightly different evolutionary paths
Divers- get their name from living in semi-flooded caves, their high small vents allow them to be partially submerged without drowning and their long arms allow them to grip things easily underwater, similar to a sea-horse tail
Climbers- similarly, they get their name from their living enviroment, living in very high caves, their long thin arms allow them to grip and climb very steep rock walls, kinda like goats in a way
Drills and Stompers get their name from the shape of their arms, they both developed closer to the surface compared to the others, their arms are like that for dealing with sandstorms, while Drills "drill" themselfs in place, Stompers use their body weight to keep themselfs down
Blocks are very similar to Stompers, but they live in caves much deeper down, so they're quite compact
Common traits between all species: all Eridians can thrum, all Eridians organize in "colonies" like ants or termites (tho the specifics of how each colony works varies), all Eridians are True Carnivores(can only eat meat) and all Eridians are unisex
In theory any one eridian can procreate with any other eridian, between the 5 species there are 4 fertile hybrids and 3 infertile hybrids posible
note: tho each species has a more broad vague shared culture between themselves, none of them are a monolith, all of them have vastly different culture, language, texture, practices and even phenotypes between different colonies around the world
note 2: the fact humans are a monotypic species (there is only one in our genus) is really fucking weird to them
today had been possibly one of the worst days at the agency yet. interns pissing him off with their incompetence, patrols lasting longer than they should've, the media on his ass.
so as he kicked his boots off at the door, and found you laying on the couch, waiting for him as always, he felt genuine joy.
"angel." he grunted, poking your back as he stood over you behind the couch. you had been laying on your stomach, taking a nap most likely. he could tell from your ruffled hair and bunched up eyebrows when you finally turned to look at him.
soon, your expression changed as you recognized him. "hi, kat." you yawned, turning over onto your back as he made his way around the couch to then collapse on top of you. face buried in your cotton clad chest, he hummed in satisfaction. "bad day?" you asked, having gotten used to the big brute crushing you when he got home. your hands went to his hair, twirling the strands and patting his head.
"mm. worst day, missed you." he muttered, voice muffled by your shirt. "missed you too, if it makes you feel better one of my coworkers quit. she was pretty nice so it's kinda sad–"
"need you to make me feel better." he huffed, lifting his head so his chin was rested in the valley of your chest.
MDNI AFTER THIS LINE. ══════════════════════════════
"mphhh!—kat!" you gasped, panting. he sucked lightly on your clit, letting out a groan when you cried out.
his fingers held your thighs apart, your legs had long ago been thrown over his shoulders. "taste so sweet, baby. s'perfect." he said when he finally pulled off, switching to run a long lick over your soaked slit. he waited a few seconds after just to watch you pulse and clench around nothing.
his tongue dips back into you, licking into your wet folds. he hums, the taste soothing honey on his tongue. his nose presses over and over against your swollen clit. "fuck-! s'so much—so good" you whined.
your fingers grip desperately at his hair, hips bucking and rolling against the cushions as you arched to push yourself on his mouth. the wet noises erupting from between your legs mixed with the increasing cries and moans spilling from your mouth, he could tell you were getting close. "..katsuki-!"
he glanced up once, before he started to fuck his tongue into your sweet cunt, one hand letting go of your inner thighs so his thumb could press and rub against your nub.
you felt heated pressure build up quickly in your belly, writhing and letting out cut off moans as you quickly reached your orgasm. you squirmed, hands close to pulling his hair out. which he never commented on. he let out a long groan as you came on his tongue, your juices mixing with his saliva as he never quit until you came down.
it wasn't long before you were tugging his head up from between your legs. "stop it already." you panted, wiping drool from under your lip. he bit his lip, "don't feel better yet. one more, you can give me one more right, angel?
notes: can you guys tell i put soul into this because i SUCK at smut.. ill def work on it but otherwise i might just stick to my sfw works because thats what (i think) im good at..
simon riley meets the most normal and nonchalant woman in all of existence <3 this is part 1, the first meeting. I did a part 2!!
After a dozen “coincidences”, about ten bad feelings, and five nights of paranoia, you came to the completely certain conclusion that you have a stalker.
You don’t tell anyone as another week passes, rolling your certainty around in your head until it’s smooth as a pebble from a river. The last time you had half a suspicion about there being mice in your walls, everyone had told you that you just need to relax. That mice don’t get up to second floor flats during the summer. Your mouse traps aren’t catching anything either, are they? Silly girl. Three glue traps and a hammer later, you proved them all wrong and could finally sleep at night.
No one will believe you now when you say the same beat up white truck is always parked within your vicinity— at work, at home, at the fucking park. They’ll say it’s a common vehicle, that you don’t know anything about cars. No one will believe you when you say your balcony latch is beat up, like someone was trying to test how hard it would be to get in. You probably scratched it and didn’t notice. No one will believe you when you say you crouched by your door for hours, watching the same shadow lurking, unmoving, before heavy boots steps carry it away. Silly girl, seeing things that aren’t there.
The feeling is sealed when the neighbor across the way— some handsome bloke who never deigns to speak to you— grunts something to you about telling your little friends when you’re not home so they don’t come knocking. None of your friends would come to your flat without you present. You’re not crazy. You’re not.
The solution is hard. You’re not crazy, but everyone will think you are. Especially the bobbies. And then your parents will make a stink about you moving back home because you’re going spare on your own. So there has to be something you can do. As you pace around your living room, your eyes are drawn to the corner that you caught that mouse in. And it dawns on you. You just need a bigger glue trap and hammer.
The hammer is all about preference, so it’s easy to figure out. The glue trap takes some thinking, but you’ve always been smart. You spot the car across the street when you walk about in your shiny, pretty outfit to meet your friends. All the bangles and bows that you love, shimmering enough to catches eyes. This is not the trap. Too many people out, too early in the night for your mouse to feel safe creeping out of its hiding spot. The trap comes hours later when you make a show of stumbling up to your door, keys scratching the lock in your faux-unsteady attempts to unlock it. The trap is that you leave your door unlocked after you get inside.
It takes what feels like hours of waiting tucked behind a wall to watch the door in silence, sober as a judge, trainers on, hair tied out of your face. You put a mirror angled towards the entrance just for this reason. In its reflection, you see the handle turn. Slowly, almost tentatively. The door opens. Your fucking mouse is here.
You let him come in, get his bearings. Really sniff around the place. It’s right when he gets a few steps in that he gets the hammer. The metal bat you bought from the Sports Direct— a fat softball one with the comfiest grip— hits him in the stomach with all the force your body can generate. When he stumbles back, you rear back to hit that fucker again, bat held high above your head.
Across the way, Simon Riley jolts awake, flying up out of bed to survey the space for what woke him. When he finds nothing, he pulls the gun off his bedside nightstand to venture out to find it. It’s only after he clears his flat that he opens the front door.
The door that the pretty bird— the one that looks at him twice whenever she sees him in the hall— lives behind is cracked open. The sound is coming from there. It sounds like a woman. You.
He doesn’t think when he crosses the hall, shouldering past the door. But he doesn’t find of the scenarios his strategies were built upon.
His neighbor is fucking whaling on the bloke on her floor, spitting curses and swinging again and again while he tries to shield himself.
“—that’s fuckin’ right you slimy fuck! Sonuva fuckin’ bitch! My house, my fuckin’ house!”
“Get off me! Stop, get off! Get of me you bloody cunt!”
It’s then that you see him, balking back slightly with the bat in your hands in your surprise. Wasting no time, Simon butts the muzzle of his gun up against the man on your floor’s head, none too gently either.
“What’s all this, then?”
“She’s trying to fuckin’ murder me, mate—“ the fucker starts.
Simon kicks at him. Wishes he had pulled on his boots to make it hurt more. “Wasn’t asking you, mate.” He nods to you.
You push the wispy bits of hair out of your face, panting slightly. Simon tries not to stare too hard. He doesn’t have the mask to cover it right now. “Came home from the bar with the girls. Next thing I know he was breaking in. I don’t know him.”
“You’re fuckin’—”
Simon jolts the muzzle of his gun, making the man’s sentence sputter out. “Pipe down.”
You look pretty pleased at that, giving Simon a glimpse of a slight smirk. When you see him looking, you turn away, flicking on the hall light while grumbling about the dark.
Simon cocks his head. Looks back at the bloke pissing himself at the end of his gun. With the light on, the man Simon scared off your doorstep a week back thinking he was some suitor of yours sits at the end of his gun. Simon doesn’t forget faces.
“Seen him around before. He been botherin’ ya?” Simon asks.
The man protests. Simon jolts his gun again, killing the sound.
❤︎ SYNOPSIS: your boyfriend katsuki gets hit by a quirk, and splits into two versions of himself. this bodes both beautifully and horribly for you.
❤︎ CONTENT: boyfriend!katsuki, pro hero!katsuki, kat is actually lowk an asshole, light choking, making out, lots of petnames (sweetheart, princess, baby), cunnilingus (ew—that word), fingering, technical threesome, squirting … 18+, minors and ageless blogs DNI.
❤︎ XOXO, PUMA: alternatively, y/n vs both of katsuki’s brain cells. also ty sm to @kamislop for beta reading !
♫ NOW PLAYING: what you want, angéle ft justice
read on ao3 | 3.9k words | masterlist.
“BABY, ‘M HOME!”
“Shut the fuck up—loud as shit, my God.”
“…We have explosions for hands.”
“And I said what I fuckin’ said!”
You hear the familiar jingle of Katsuki’s boots at the front door. Except, there’s double the sound there should be—louder belt clanking, extra foot stomping—and, at first, you think he’s brought back a friend. Probably Eijirō, maybe Izuku. But, as you leave the shared bedroom to the sound of the front door slamming shut, you remember the call you received from his redheaded bestie about an hour ago.
“Okay, I’d like to preface this with everything is fine, Kat is safe and unharmed—well. As unharmed as he can be, but, like—”
“Eijirō, you’re stressing me out.”
“Sorry—sorry! I, uh, just wanted to give you a heads up that he’s coming home early. He got hit with a quirk, and like—again, he’s fine, and Recovery Girl said he’d just have to wait it out, but. Just a heads up.”
Yeah. Vague as hell, and now, you understand why.
Either you’re going insane, or your eye sight is deteriorating with a quickness, or both—because once you reach the entrance to welcome your boyfriend home, you’re seeing double.
What. The fuck.
“Oh thank fuck—c’mere, Baby.”
Katsuki—a Katsuki, you suppose—starts moving independent of the other. He all but collapses into very confused arms, dropping his chin on your head and squeezing you tight. The other one glowers, messily shoving two pairs of boots under the bench with complete disregard for his strict organizational pattern.
“Um…”
You blink at the Katsuki that cradles you. He gives a soft smile in return, one that usually requires blood, sweat, and tears to crack (even if it takes you a significant less amount of blood, sweat, and tears than the average human—they’re blood, sweat, and tears nonetheless) and you don’t know what to do with it. Where to put it.
“Got hit with a fucker’s quirk,” the other Katsuki explains after giving up on making the boots fit. Typically, there aren’t two pairs, but one—and the shoe rack is feeling the added pressure.
“So…it’s the quirk that split you in two,” you ask, even though you know. The answer is staring you right in the face, but, like. Just in case.
The Katsuki still holding onto you grunts in agreement, and you finally manage to peel away. He steps back as the other Katsuki steps forward, and you finally get a good look at how identical they are. Which, obviously, but it’s still slightly alarming, nonetheless. Like…the shining twins, if they were blond and angry. And covered in grime.
“Holy shit…” your eyes dart between the two of them, trying to find discrepancies in anything other than mismatched dirt. You find none, save for the way they hold themselves. You need better names—you can’t keep calling them Katsuki and other Katsuki.
“Do…you know when it’s going to wear off?”
A self-indulgent question. Perhaps.
“Fuckin’—no.” Angry Katsuki digs a knuckle into his ear, and the other one yawns. “They gotta track the fucker down, first. Apparently, I can’t do my goddamn job like this.”
He gestures between the two of them, and you teeter your head in semi-agreement. The other Katsuki pipes up, and god, you need better names.
“’M not pissed about it, though,” He steps out of line to grab the hand limp by your side, kissing your knuckles with the lightest touch you’ve ever felt. “Means I get to see you.”
Oh?
“I am,” angry Katsuki growls, slapping his counterpart’s hand away from yours. “I should be out there, hunting that mitosis motherfucker.”
“If you go out there, you’re killing him,” other Katsuki defends. Angry Katsuki rolls his eyes.
“Fuckin’ exactly.”
Other Katsuki just sighs, turning back to you. Immediately his features soften along with his voice. “How’ve you been today, Baby? I left early.”
“Um…good? This is just…” you peer around Katsuki’s body to view the other one, who rolls his eyes again, almost completely ignoring your presence. That is, until:
“Ima fuckin’ shower,” he grumbles, and walks down the hall.
“A lot?” Other Katsuki finishes for you, watching his parallel until he disappears into the bedroom, and you nod.
Something like that.
“Okay. Kat.” You point to Angry Katsuki, who’s now glowering on the couch, much like he did at the front door, and much cleaner than before. Your finger shifts to Other Katsuki, until his head becomes a small point at the top of your fingernail. “Suki. That way, if I call, you both don’t come running. Cool?”
While Suki nods his head with diligence, Kat finally smiles. Not the soft smile that’s reserved for you, but the self-satisfied smile reserved for villains, the one that barely hides his hunger for blood.
“Hear that, Nerd? I’m Kat, not your bitch-ass.”
Suki blinks, relatively confused, and tips his head to the side. “Why the fuck does that matter?”
“’Cuz I’m the original!” Kat says loud and proud, digging a thumb into his chest. “Not you.”
“…Again, why the fuck does that matter,” Suki grumbles, less a question and more an observation. A statement. “We got split in two. We’re two halves of the same person, not a copy-paste.”
“I fuckin’ know that, shit stick.” Kat’s hands crackle at the prospect of being challenged, and while Suki tries to hide the way he shrinks in on himself, you throw a spare pillow at Kat’s head.
“Ow, what the fuck!”
“No explosions in the house!”
Kat grumbles, but his hands fizzle out. He shakes them out at his sides. “’M not doin’ this shit—’m goin’ to bed.”
“Ah-Ah! No,” you say, and Kat freezes like you grabbed him physically, like there’s an invisible wall that separates the living room from the rest of the house. “You said we’d watch that move tonight, remember?”
“We said,” he amends, looking unimpressed before jerking his head to Suki. “Make him watch it.”
“No! It’s exactly like you said—you both promised. Technically,” you smile and look at Suki, who, honestly, looks like there’s no other place he’d rather be—he just watches you talk with his chin propped on a hand and love in his eyes. “So. We’re both watching it.”
“Fuckin’—fine,” Kat groans, loud and obnoxious, and to the ceiling. He sits back down with a huff. “But I swear to God, if it’s some fuckin’ Twilight shit again—”
“It’s not.” You get up only to shove Kat over with a hip, quitting his manspreading, and make yourself enough room between them. He lets you. Suki wraps both arms around your middle, and cuddles you close and tight, like you might up and disappear tomorrow. “That was one time—”
“One horrible time, when I was forced to watch five fuckin’ movies of absolute bullshit—”
“It wasn’t that fuckin’ bad,” Suki defends with a quiet grumble, and you want to scoop him up and run away with him. “’S…campy.”
“Thank you,” you nod, before redirecting your attention to Kat, patting him on the leg. “See? Suki understands quality content when he sees it.”
“Get the fuck out my face.”
You don’t put on Twilight—but you do put on Argylle, and that’s not much better.
“So, you’re tellin’ me,” Kat trails off, and you watch the movie flicker in carmine eyes. “That the whole damn time, this chick was writing a book that predicts the future—”
“Specifically a spy-future, yes—”
“And, that’s why…y’know what? Fuck this shit, my head hurts.”
“You have no sense of whimsy,” you sigh, unimpressed. Kat rolls his eyes.
“Listen, Sweetheart,” He fills his voice with faux saccharine, artificial flavoring, and you scowl at the mockery. “I got a job—a real serious job. Don’t got fuckin’ time for ‘whimsy.’”
Kat hangs air quotes with a hand, and that just pushes your frown deeper.
“Oh, and I don’t?” you smile, but it’s just as artificial as his words. Kat glowers, and behind you, Suki goes:
“Uh oh…”
“Somethin’ like that.”
With a huff, you snatch him by blond spikes—and, if Kat is even a little tenderheaded as Katsuki is…
You yank and pull upward, and Kat rises with your grip. Yep. “Ow, what the fuck?! Ah—okay, fuck, I’m sorry—”
He hisses, face twisting in agony—and finally, you relent the torture. You let him go with a satisfied smile, and Kat snarls at you, rubbing the soft points of his head.
“What did we learn?”
Suki snickers under his breath. “Fuckin’ nothing.”
Kat scrambles at that, getting to his feet in preparation to attack. Fear flashes across Suki’s face, making you wonder if his statement was supposed to come out quieter, perhaps unheard. He scrambles over the arm of the couch, and you get thrown around in his rush.
“You’re fuckin’ dead meat!” Kat hollers. Suki takes off in a mad dash.
It isn’t before long that they’re chasing each other in circles around the couch, like a pack of wild dogs, snarling and huffing and puffing. (With the occasional spark—which you’re quick to put out.) You watch your movie, and occasionally, them, and eat the majority of the popcorn in the process.
Eventually, they collapse back onto the couch and into their respective sides, twin chests heaving and glistening in sweat until their breath makes the mile long trek to catch up.
“You two done?” You ask, but never take your eyes off the screen. It’s getting to the good part.
Suki nods. “Yeah, sorry.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Kat snaps, and you double check to make sure he isn’t talking to you (because, if he is—you’re locking him in the basement), but he’s still glaring at Suki like he murdered his family. “You piss me the fuck off.”
“Clearly,” Suki snorts, this time quiet enough for Kat to not hear. Still vaguely out of breath, he squeezes your thigh to get attention, and slings his other arm behind you. “I wan’a kiss. Can I get a kiss, Baby?”
You giggle, because as stated, soft Katsuki is a Katsuki you’re used to having to work for, and then some. His hand lifts to your chin as you say, “Sure, Suki.”
And then, you’re getting snatched back by your pajama shirt, nearly choking in the process with an embarrassing and garbled noise.
“Abso-fuckin-lutely not,” Kat grunts, and you nearly fall backwards into his lap. “My girlfriend.”
“Your—” Suki cuts himself off with a scoff, grabbing your hand and pulling you up again—up and away. “One, we’re the same damn person, she’s both our girlfriend. And two, I want my fuckin’ kiss.”
Back.
“Well, that’s too damn bad,” Kat huffs, and you’re yanked again. This is starting to get dizzying. “I don’ want your bitch lips all over her.”
Forth.
“Okay,” Suki chuckles, and you’re tipped forward. Seriously? “And, I don’t want your ugly ass mug anywhere near my girl, so—”
Back.
“Oh, now it’s ‘your girl’—I thought we—”
Forth.
“Yeah. My girl, ‘cuz you don’ even know how to treat her.”
Back—Forth.
“You’re loud, and rude, and angry—”
Back and Forth and Back and Forth.
“Y’don’t appreciate shit that she does for us, and it fuckin’ shows—”
Back and Forth and Back and Forth. Back and Forth and Back.
“Yeah, and she loves me for it anyway, Dipshit—”
Back and Forth and Back and Forth an—
“Can you two quit it!”
When they still, you go tumbling forward and into Suki’s lap—which, Kat doesn’t like very much, and grumbles under his breath about it.
“Sorry, Baby.”
“Fuckin’ what.”
“You guys realize I can kiss both of you, right?” Your words border on exasperated. Kat rolls his eyes.
“Fine—I get first.”
“No, I do!”
“I will blast you to goddamn smithereens.”
“Fine! At least I get my fuckin’ kiss—”
“Oh my god,” you groan aloud, running hands over your face and sinking deeper into the couch. It’s endless. “Y’know what? No. Stand up.”
You pat both of their backs to urge them upwards, and they follow. Standing side by side and watching you—and if you thought that one set of Katsuki’s eyes were intimidating enough, try two.
“Okay, Suki—you asked first, so you go first.”
Kat grumbles under his breath, something about ‘well if I fuckin’ knew that, woulda asked ages ago,’ but relents relatively quiet. Suki bends over with a smile, cradling the side of your face to lift it higher.
“Thank you, Baby.”
Katsuki’s lips always feel warm, and Suki’s are no different—they move slow and soft and patient, like he knows what’s coming, when it’s coming, so might as well take his time until he can see the finish line. He inhales like he could breathe you in, and the hand cupping your face tightens with want and satisfaction.
When Suki pulls away, you’re both breathless, and he rests his forehead against yours. “Missed you.”
But, before you can respond—
Suki is shoved out of the way, out of frame, and in comes Kat, who would be on fire if he could. “Y’call that a fuckin’ kiss? Watch and learn, Loser.”
Kat grabs you by the chin and kisses you with weight. He presses into you with his upper body, using a free hand to rest on the back of the couch, and placing a knee between your legs. Kat kisses you into the cushions and out of any breath you have left, leaving you scrambling for air.
“How was that,” Kat asks once pulling away, dragging his thumb across your kiss-swollen lips. You swoon, before remembering that this Katsuki is downright evil.
“It was…um…” you try to say fine, try to say okay, I’ve had better, but the weight of two intense stares fill your veins and cloud your judgement. And, just overall ability to speak as a whole.
“See Dumbass, what’d I say?” Kat hollers over his shoulder, standing up to glare at his doppelgänger. “Kiss her right and she fuckin’ melts.”
Suki bristles at that, but doesn’t bite back with words. Instead, he quietly assumes Kat’s place with a hum, thumbing the highest point of your cheek as he looks down. He studies you.
“Mmm…looks pretty solid to me,” Suki mutters, tilting your head every which way, like he’s trying to find something that’s not there. Kat yells from the back, ‘shitty ass joke!’ “Wha’d’ya think, Baby? Who’s better?”
“Um,” you swallow, and try to stifle your inner goblin. “I don’t…I think I’ll need more than that to…y’know…know?”
And, yet. The goblin comes out, anyway. (At least she’s respectful, this time.)
Suki teeters his head in consideration, and Kat snorts from behind him. “Fuckin’ pervert.”
You gawk. Because, like, yes, but also, “how am I supposed to know based off a three second kiss?”
“Valid question.”
“Listen—I don’t know about Mr. Chastity over here, but mine was definitely longer than three seconds.”
Suki gives him a look over his shoulder, and though you can’t see it, you can guess based off the way he goes, “Seriously?”
“I said what I said.”
You see the tail end of Suki rolling his eyes as he turns back to you, and the look of pure annoyance on his face shifts to one of affection. His thumb brushes your cheek again, as he leans forward, close enough for you to feel his breath across your lips.
“Well, Baby? Should we prove that fucker wrong?”
But, you’re not paying attention to much else other than the way Suki’s lips round and soften to form words that you barely hear. So, you just nod, let out a quiet ‘uh huh,’ and let him close the distance.
Suki kisses you with more passion this time around, but less vigor and aggression than Kat. You feel comfortable and grounded, and gasp, hands finding the middle of his shirt as he tilts his head to the side. You don’t get kissed stupid like you do with Kat—like the earth got flipped upside down and you just have to deal with it—but held and loved, and that’s stupefying enough.
Suki moans into your mouth, making your body run both hot and cold. It takes ages and alcohol to convince Katsuki to make a sound, to stop holding himself back, but this one might not. This one might not, and God, if that doesn’t make your head spin.
A tongue licks the seam of your lips but never pushes further than that, just enough for you to be aware of the threat and the want, but never enough to give. You whine, pushing deeper—and Suki smiles against your lips like that was exactly what he wanted, before his hand encompasses the front of your neck to squeeze, restricting your airflow just enough.
When he pulls away, the hand around your neck slides to your collarbones, and your eyes flutter shut. It continues to snake lower, past the waistband of your sweats and even lower than that, until two fingers run along your folds. They’re gone as quick as they came, and Suki pulls them out to reveal—
“See? She’s soaked.”
Kat growls, but before he can say anything, Suki tucks both fingers into his mouth and sucks. It’s obscene, and you think you see his tongue poke through at some point.
But then, he’s getting shoved in the shoulder, falling into the couch and more importantly, away from you, as Kat takes his place between your legs. Before you have time to protest (which—you won’t, but you might’ve for a second, for like, posterity) Kat is shoving your sweats down to your ankles, clearly tired of playing fair.
“I’m sick of his shit,” he grumbles, shifting your hips forward until you’re nearly laying flat. “Aren’t you sick of his shit, Princess?”
You don’t really know what to say to that. Luckily, you’re not given much time to—Kat sticks his tongue out and licks a fat stripe up your pussy, swirling his tongue around your clit, and dragging it back down.
“Fuckin’—take your goddamn time,” Suki growls, and Kat just rolls his eyes and continues his ministrations. “I worked hard to get her that fuckin’ wet, y’know—”
Kat only pulls his mouth away to give his double an incredulous look, pointing at your pussy like you’re not even there. “Oh, you think you did this.”
“I know I did,” Suki snarls at the slight, and when Kat chuckles around your clit, it makes your thigh seize. “But, fine—fuck her dry like an animal. See if I care when she comes runnin’ to me ‘cuz y’don’t know what the fuck you’re doin’.”
Kat doesn’t grace his words with more words, just flips a middle finger in his direction before that hand finds your thigh. Only to spread your legs wider, broaden his plate, and you nearly keel over when he sucks too hard.
“He bein’ too rough?” Suki coos, grabbing you by the jaw and running a thumb along it’s sharpest point. “’S okay if you can’t cum, Baby—he has absolutely no finesse.”
Suki rips Kat away from you by the hair, his lips flushed and glossed from you, and yanks him out of the way. Kat snarls and lets his palms pop, but one halfhearted glare from you, and they fizzle right out.
“He’s being a dick!” Kat defends, gesturing at the perpetrator with open hands—said perpetrator simply settles between your legs, licking his lips. Kat is ignored.
Suki moves a lot slower than Kat does—still hot and heavy, but languid, like he knows you’re not going anywhere any time soon. He licks you up and down, avoiding places that would do anything more than simmer. But, even low heat will eventually come to a boil, and your breath hitches when a finger brushes your entrance.
Kat yawns. “I’m fuckin’ bored.”
Suki rolls his eyes and can’t help but pull away, get another word in—but his finger finally quits (some of) the teasing and plunges right in. You shiver, then melt. “Well, that’s too damn bad.”
“Yeah, it is—make her scream or somethin’ before I fuckin’ fall asleep.”
“Oh, please fall asleep,” Suki insists, but never takes his eyes away from you—your pussy—as he berates his double, too fascinated by the way you squeeze and relax around him. “I’d love if you fell asleep—I could be both of us, and she wouldn’t even notice.”
Kat barks out a laugh, loud and sarcastic. “You get mad at me for bein’ rude, then you call her stupid? Some white knight.”
“No,” Suki says, and adds another finger and curls them upward—it makes your leg kick involuntarily, and it probably would’ve done some damage if he didn’t catch it in time. “I’m callin’ you basic. Bitch.”
“Oh, you fuckin—”
“Guys! Please!” You scream at the ceiling. You’re exhausted and annoyed, semi-horny and so far away from the finish line. “Stop arguing—do you want me to cum or not?”
And, well. That shuts them up quicker than you expected.
“Absolutely, Baby.”
“Ugh—fuckin’ whatever.”
Suki focuses on you, after that. Kat tries to distract him with playground insults, tugging at his hair like a childhood bully, but the most he gets in response is a middle finger. Suki hoists your thigh onto his shoulder, and, when you wiggle too much, uses a free hand to pin your waist in place.
It’s an embarrassingly short amount of time until you feel the fire in your belly turn dangerous, like wind carrying bonfire embers into trees to ignite them. It’s not your fault—there’s two pair of eyes when there should be one, equally eager, equally fascinated. Kat catches your chin and pulls you in for a rough kiss, and Suki’s eyes flutter when you squeeze around him, like he’s fingering himself and feeling every curve of his fingertips.
You squirm, understanding the specifics of the feeling that builds and hating them. “Ah fuck—think I’m gonna…?”
“Squirt?” Suki finishes with a knowing smile, like that’s what he’s been aiming for this whole time, and you bristle.
“Fuck you,” you pant, but it get infinitely harder to argue as your vision starts to blur with your breathing. “Yes, Asshole.”
“Hot,” Kat nods in agreement, and if you had the wherewithal to, you’d chuck a pillow in his face. Again.
“You know I hate this.” You give Suki an half-hearted glare, and he fights the smile growing on his face. “Why do you do this to me.”
“Because it’s hot,” Suki hums, and honestly, he deserves a pillow to the face as well. “C’mon, Baby—relax, let it happen.”
He starts stroking your thigh like that’s going to help any. It doesn’t, and the stick you use is no longer good enough to defend your impending orgasm, which is horrible, horrible news for the couch cushion. You’ll need to flip it over. Again.
(So—maybe you should just buy a new cushion, at this point. And avoid sitting in your usual spot on the couch.)
While the orgasm doesn’t catch you by surprise, the strength of it does. Your thighs squeeze around Suki’s head as much as they’re able—as much as he allows—and a hand finds Kat’s to hold on tight and squeeze. You feel Kat fall into your shoulder, or maybe you fall into his. Your body burns, buzzes, anything that starts with a b that sounds hot. You’re hot. On fire, actually.
You don’t open your eyes until the feeling subsides—in time to watch Suki pull away, face soaked, and the couch cushion even more so. Kat takes two fingers and runs them along your folds, only to dip them into his mouth and hum with contentment.
“Sweet, right?”
“Fuck yeah.”
And you, feeling the wet cushion under your back, haven’t decided whether you’re going to smother both (?) your boyfriends in their sleep.
(You make both of them sleep on the couch that night—the wet couch that’s their fault. Kat doesn’t get it, he didn’t even do anything. Suki accepts his fate with a knowing grin.)
“Ten years you have been together. You married the moment he joined the military. So nine years you’ve been the dutiful army wife by his side. Nine fucking years and you have seen him for maybe five.”
part 1, part 2, part 3 ao3 link
“Where did you put her.”
The target of his interrogation sighs, the sound making heat simmer under his skin.
“Laswell, where the fuck did you put her??
“Who John?”
“My wife”
She doesn’t even spare him a glance.
His short nails bite into his palm as words grind out of his throat. “I can’t find her. There’s only two people who could make her disappear and oh I fucking know Nik wouldn’t dare to, but you.” A dark chuckle. “You with your cia American bullshit. You could.”
Only her eyebrow kicks up as he spews out what he’s been stewing on for a week. He can’t find you. Him. SAS captain of the most covert team on base. Hell, the most secretive in the country.
“Not to be blunt Price but,” a stack of folders smacks against the table in front of her. “Why would I waste my precious time on your wife when I have all these wonderful criminals to hunt down?” She sweeps her pale hand across the pile in a demonstration before folding her arms across her chest.
Finally she was looking at him, but now that she was he almost wished she would go back to ignoring him. Her eyes trailed his unshaved rumpled form curiously.
“What did you do?”
Dragging his hands down his face, scratching his beard he thinks. He needs help but how much does he want to share of the intel he’s already gathered.
Your shared home was empty. Wiped clean. Literally. Not a strand of hair or print visible. He checked.
No new posts on social media, the last one was over a year ago, a little celebration post for your anniversary. He already made sure no location services were on your phone or any of those bloody apps. So there he was screwed.
You hadn’t used his credit card, your card, or even made a transaction from their shared account. The last one made was at the post office months ago. Likely to buy stamps to mail the bloody letter.
The silence had gone on too long. Now instead of Kate’s inspection being one of curiosity he could slowly see it being formed into one of rage. A rarity, one he blessedly has never experienced directly.
“Captain, what did you do to your wife.” Her tone was flat, emotionless, separated.
Price huffs, eyes closing.
“D’nt lay my hands on her.”
He knows she won’t believe him until it comes from your lips. But still.
“Laswell, I haven’t seen her in months.” His voice breaks unwillingly. The force against against his pride and status too much for it to bear. “When I left it was good..fine. She didn’t say anything about leaving me.” He swallows the lump threatening to choke him. Fuck this. Fuck Laswell. Fuck you. Fuck you for making him feel this way.
Heat fills him, burning, taking over the part of him that hates to lose.
“Fuckin’ nevermind.”
Price turns to leave partly hoping that she’d stop him. That she would hear his desperation and feel guilty, an emotion he knows she’d never feel towards him.
The only sound that followed him were the echo of his own footsteps.
not so silently hyper fixating on himbo!aizawa who wants to fuck you even dumber on his big cock but can't get himself to ask. there's something oddly desirable about how shouta plays coy in situations where there's no need for him to hold back. he's made a habit of manspreading on his sofa and tapping his knee when he wants you to sit for him.
but himbo!aizawa still doesn't know how to ask for what he wants. you could be drooling on your knees between his thick thighs with your cheek pressed up against his large bulge. still, he can't get himself to say "unzip me a little," let alone grab the root of your ponytail and shove your face into his balls like he wants. fine, it was up to you to take the lead then.
you could be flirting with himbo!aizawa but the man can't even tell. he doesn't have a clue where to put his hands when you're grinding on him, and hates the flattery that comes with realizing that you're definitely soaked through your panties just from the outline of his erection.
in the end, himbo!aizawa is still a sweetie who wants to fuck and fuck and fuck till his mind goes blank. he's at first worried you're abandoning your comfort in favor of unzipping his pants, although his overwhelmingly large cock is about to bust the seams. "duh, i'm taking it out. your pants can't contain it anymore." it's wholesome how dedicated you are to making him feel good, that is - after you're done staring at his erection that's just slapped against his abdomen and nearly hit you in the face.
himbo!aizawa can't go too fast at first, but everything's moving at such a rapid pace. now, your panties are dangling from your ankle, his boxers are yanked down to his hips and there's a generous wad of precum leaking from his tip. your pussy is right there, hovering over his huge tip ready to swallow him to the base when his hips shift clumsily, impaling you halfway down and splitting your poor cunt in half.
groans of "fuck, i'm sorry" from himbo!aizawa are easily drowned out by your high pitched cries. his apologies aren't meaningless, of course he didn't intend to spear you on purpose like that. "you're trying to be quiet, but hear how much noise your pussy is making." a man once terrible at flirting is now giving you a masterclass in dirty talk, stealing orgasms from you left and right and thrusting like a man starved.
but you love himbo!aizawa for the boyfriend (eye/arm candy) that he is.
Hockey player!Sukuna whose infamous for his fights—and the fact that he wins all of them. He’ll throw his hockey stick down and start swinging at the first wrong word- he doesn’t care if he gets penalties. The team can’t do it without him anyway.
Hockey player!Sukuna who breezes past those reporters and anchors- anyone trying to get a crumb of his attention after he scores multiple goals straight. Usual business for him, right now he’s trying to get to- you.
Hockey player!Sukuna who might be a tyrant on the pitch, in interviews, out of interviews- basically everywhere but when he’s with you. He’s got a flush on his cheeks and a fond smile threatening to break through that scowl of his—the other side to the beast.
Synopsis. Trapped with a too-smug, too-handsome Nightwing by the very same villains you were trying to swindle was not how you planned to spend your night. Luckily for you, Gojo can think of a much better way to pass the time.
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! anti-hero!reader, Nightwing! Gojo, BATMAN AU, enemies-to-Iovers, forced proximity, píning, MARATHONS, manhandIing, Gojo goes FÉRAL, overstím, he is BIG, making it fit, cervíx kíssing, tummy buIges, BREÉDING, RIPPING suits, spítting, cúmplay, chokíng, arguing during it, PÚSSYDRÚNK GOJO, matíng presses, making Gojo CRY, oraI (f + m rec.), p talking, breaking furniture, Red Hood! Geto cameo, slight vioIence, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 10.4k
A/N. *evil laughs* I just had to.
“You.”
“You.”
“Enchanté, sweetheart.” And Gojo - oh, it’s so undeniably Gojo Satoru’s sapphire gaze behind that satiny mask - tilts over his tall, bubbling glass of champagne towards you with the cockiest of winks. A wink.
Your teeth set on edge - out of all the pompous, boorish high society balls that he could crash undercover, it just had to be the one that you were planning to heist.
And by the most pompous, boorish hero of all.
If looks could kilI, then you’d be upturning Gojo’s grave to finish him off yourself already.
“Didn’t think you were one for masquerade balls.” He’s leaning in to brush off an invisible piece of lint from your shoulder, words coming out in scorching hot puffs against your ear. Low, hoarse. “Changed much during your lil’ vacation, hm? How is the Gotham State Penitentiary this time of year?”
“Oh, I don’t know. How’s the hottest one of the Bat Family doing?” You’re sniping back, head cocked innocently. Silent for just how long it takes for Gojo’s eyes to widen, breath to hitch- “Y’know…Toji Fushiguro. How’s Batman doing, Nightwing?”
There’s a strangely sharp glint in his stare, and his traitorously handsome jaw clenches through a wild grin.
With a wide sweep of the bustling ballroom, he murmurs over the live orchestra. “You’re gonna give me away~”
“Don’t even have to try.” You’re tilting your head up in defiance when he closes in so many sultry inches, all the way until you could feel the heated press of Gojo’s ticking biceps through his formal suit. Heady masculine cologne invading your senses, “That mask does more than enough damage.”
Honestly, what fool dons a disguise with a mask that looks exactly like his hero one?
Though, you weren’t complaining - if Nightwing accidentally provided the perfect distraction for you to swindle future big-shot congressman and business heir, Naoya Zenin, out of his precious diamonds then so be it.
The fact that Batman’s protégé would be humiliated was only a plus.
Scoffing, “So what you’re saying is you want me out of it? Scandalous, but I don’t fuck before a first date.”
A very, very big plus.
“Never in your wildest dreams, Nightwing.” You’re pettily raising your voice just a pitch to make the sculptured man in front of you squirm, as much as he would never admit it. “S’it that you don’t fuck or you don’t get to? Come here to try out your hand with the wives of the bourgeoisie?”
“I’m here on business, sweetheart. Gotta get to that brat Naoya’s office.” Gojo nods towards a gaggle of ogling older ladies, ever-the-charmer.
It’s enough to make them swoon, and - you hate to admit it - for your heart to stutter just a beat.
Because Gojo Satoru looked good. All powerful, lean muscle that carried him so many numerous inches over six feet. The rich, yolkish lighting makes his dark blue jacket look almost painted to his slender waist, and those meaty, meaty thighs.
Easily the sexiest man in this room full of sordid businessmen and shifty politicians.
If you dared to let your gaze roam, you’re sure they’d stray past his milky collarbones to catch a hint of the even tighter black and blue hero suit he was surely wearing under.
He looked more than good, if you were being honest.
But when has one of Gotham’s most notorious cat burglars ever needed to be honest?
And you’re so caught up in pondering just what the others see in him that it gives you an electric jolt to feel the doughy pads of Gojo’s gloved fingertips brushing down your thigh. Feeling as if he was searing through your saucy, glittering gown.
There’s a tremor of amusement when his sensory tips meet the cold hilt of your famed dagger. Hidden.
Tonality dripping with something sickly sweet that makes your tummy lurch, “And it seems like I’m not the only one, Prowler. The Zenin diamonds?”
“The Zenin drug smuggling ring?”
You both give a curt, almost-missable nod. Your eyes back to analyzing the sprawling celebrations for any sign of the aforementioned Zenin heir himself.
Though, not for long- “Y’know, maybe I should send you back to your lovely penitentiary right now, girl. Already did once.” Whispered right against your sensitive earlobe.
“Darling–” Your plastic smile is almost painful as you feel the interested stares from around the room. You did make quite an eye-catching pair, especially so close. Hand drifting to his beefy, veined forearm and pinching, “-you’re too close~”
“I don’t think I’m close enough.”
Nails clawing down his smooth skin and towards his pale wrist. “Close enough for me to strike a vein without a single person here knowing any better.”
“That’s kinda hot–” Gojo’s lips quirk upwards, sleek brows quirking up to the curtain of his snowy bangs. And you don’t know where to look - down below, where he’s adjusting his pants with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, or up above where his irises follow a triangle between both your eyes n’ your lips, dead-on. “-for a petty thief.”
“You little-”
“Big, actually.” And of course, he has to interrupt with a look on his face that tells you he knew you were fighting to not take a glance downwards and confirm for yourself. “I’m very big.”
“I hear words compensate.” You’re batting your lashes through your own lacy Stygian mask, too close. “And I hear Toji’s bigger.”
“Enough with the-”
“My my, young love sure is fiery!” Saved by a rough, booming voice to your side of the festivities. Though, you’re not sure if it would technically be considered a “save” when you’re finally snapping your head and recognizing the source of those words. “I always do tell Naoya ‘ere that it’s time to settle down. No such luck so far!”
As Naobito Zenin slaps an overly harsh hand down on his son’s crisp, suit-cladden shoulder with a bark of laughter, you mutter. “Can’t imagine why.”
Though, perhaps it was a bit too loud.
Because Naoya’s nostrils flare in a sharp inhale, and you’re hearing Gojo stifle a breathy rumble of laughter from his broad chest- shit, since when were you two even pressed up like this? No wonder it must have looked…romantic to an outsider.
“Naobito Zenin, at your service.”
“Ah, my apologies for being so rude.” You’re pushing away from the hero as if it burned - and by the strange tingling on your skin, maybe it really did. Reaching over to the wizened, leering man for a handshake. “I’m-”
“Mrs. Gojo, of course.” Gojo gets there first. “My wife and I are new to Gotham, you see. We wanted to make connections here in our new home.” A warm hand casually slings over your shoulder, slender digits tight. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”
What….the fuck.
And perhaps you should’ve screamed bloody murder - maybe that would make the Zenin’s take pity on you after an encounter with this lecher.
“That’s right.” Perhaps you shouldn’t have leaned in just as you did to his hard front. But if the way that Gojo was momentarily stunned told you anything, it was that you were doing something right. “It’s all been quite a change.”
Naoya’s thin, mahogany brows raise silently - new to the city and already invited to one of the most elite social gatherings of the year? That certainly was intriguing.
“Gojo? Gojo…so familiar…” Naobito muses out loud, and your veins boil with anxiety as his face scrunches. Before he clicks his fingers with flourish, “A-ha–! You wouldn’t have anything to do with the revered Gojo Enterprises now, would you?”
Your faux-husband places a hand over his heart, “Ah, my most beloved little project.”
“President?”
“CEO.”
Calling a multi-billion dollar foreign company a “little project” was generous, you think. But what was even more so was- “Though, it’s nothing in comparison to what I have coming up soon.” Gojo gasps dramatically, “Oh! We probably shouldn’t reveal much, however. Confidential, only friends and family.”
Naobito Zenin was practically frothing from the mouth at this point. And you notice that even Naoya’s suspicious furrow had almost completely disappeared. Almost.
“C-confidential-” The older man squeals, before bumping a fist into Gojo’s puffed-up chest. “Why, we’re friends now, aren’t we? Tell me tell me- just between you and I, how big are we talking?”
“Big.”
“Bigger than Gojo Enterprises? S-surely impossible-”
You cut in, “Bigger. Better, considering the association with the parliament we’ve negotiated this time. Whoops- my apologies, darling, that simply slipped out.”
And through it all, Naoya stays unnervingly quiet - even while his father tries and fails to hide his squawks of delight.
It would’ve almost been comedic if the air wasn’t so cut-throat tense. As if the clinking glasses and chatter of the ball were infinite miles away from your little bubble now.
Past animosity almost evaporated, you’re managing to meet Gojo’s eyes. His cloud-pale eyebrows wiggling with a knowing waver, and you find yourself plastering on an exaggerated look of distress before carrying out the finishing blow.
“Oh, but you know–” Patting the delicious curves of his pecs, “-my husband has been so stressed lately. I’m afraid he’ll overwork himself mad with this new project.”
“Aw, dear…”
“I do wish he’d take on a partner to collaborate and split the innumerable profits with. But, alas, there hasn’t been a company competent or high-profile enough for our taste.”
And by the sharp elbow Naobito digs into Naoya’s ribs, you already know that you’ve won. Well, that the two of you have won.
Reluctantly, almost as if every word made his bones ache, his son purses out a tight. “Well, Mr. and Mrs. Gojo, my father and I certainly hope this isn’t too forward, but we believe that- ah, we might just be exactly what you’re looking for.”
You both adopt a look of faint surprise, “Oh?”
Another nudge, another step forward.
“Apologies for the late introduction, but I’m Naoya Zenin. Future congressman, future CEO of the immensely successful Zenin Corporations” Each syllable practically oozing with icy smugness, “I believe I know what you want, and we are it. Please, allow me to reach out on behalf of our Zenin hospitality and lead the two of you to our private business room; where we can discuss this further…in-depth.”
Somehow, the trail end of his sentence made you shudder.
“Ah, how wonderful!” Gojo’s arm wraps possessively around your waist, “Lead the way, Naoya.”
And if you were lucky to be led straight to the dragon’s lair of treasures, then you were even luckier when one of those said dragons stayed behind.
Indeed, Naobito was held back in conversation with another undoubtedly important parliamentary figure as you and Gojo followed Naoya out of the massive, gilded doors. Silent. Rigid.
“Take him out. Drug-smuggling documents, then diamonds.” Gojo rasps from the corner of his mouth, voice barely audible for you let alone the stiff figure a few steps in front of you. Leading you along windingly decadent corridors and staircases.
You’re shaking your head, eyes following the velvety curtains and gleaming ornaments on display and wondering whether you should increase your scope for this heist even more than just the diamonds. “Diamonds, then whatever. I don’t give a shit what you do.”
“Drug-smuggling documents, then diamonds, then prison for you, girl.” He snarks back, “Unless– you wanna make up for this appalling date by actually going out with-”
“We’re here.”
It seems that the Zenin’s did have quite an affinity for interrupting you two at the most important of times.
And the only thing keeping Gojo from curling his features into a sneer is the sight of those rich, mahogany double doors in front of him. This was it.
The infamous Zenin office room.
With enough secrets to overturn the nation, and– Gojo sneaks a glimpse at the determined set of your gaze - enough diamonds, too.
Naoya’s spindly fingers twist on the burnished golden door handles, letting them creak open just a few inches ajar. Dim lighting floods out through the crack, and you’re seeing the outline of an expensive cross between an office room and a lounge room.
He gestures his hands in a wave inside with an almost-bored sort of drawl, “Guests first, I insist.”
Your fingers itch towards the dagger strapped to your thigh, and Gojo’s stare narrows. Tone steely yet polite, “No no, as the future master of the house-”
“I insist.”
“Alright…” He plants a staggering palm on the small of your back, “Come along then, sweetheart.”
Tentatively stepping onto the luxurious red carpet inside at the same time, you swear from your cunning optics you see Naoya’s lips twitch-
And then it happens.
All in the span of a nanosecond that neither you nor Gojo have the time to react - the floor and the ceiling crack open in an almost metre-wide line dividing you two and the door, a thick wall of metal snapping! shut in place before you can blink, and suddenly– suddenly, you’re trapped.
“Fuck-”
“No!”
“You must excuse me for the rude welcome-” Naoya’s voice drifts over, and you’re noticing that the gleaming wall had a small window pane. Enough for you to see a sliver of crazed, honeypool eyes, “-Prowler and Nightwing.”
He knows.
Of course, he knew. You were here trapped between a thoroughly bolted, heavy-duty panel of metal harder than diamonds. Ones especially made for trained heroes and- well, you.
And one furious bang! of your fist told you that not even your overpowered strength would be able to break through - it barely even rattled the barrier’s bolts that proudly stood circumference of your head. Running the expanse from floor to ceiling, you were backed into a corner.
Looking behind you, you’re met with the rest of the gleaming office; shelves upon shelves of books, a busy desk, cushy loveseats. And no window.
No exit.
He’s spitting, face twisting into heaps of wrinkles as he grins. “My father might be half-blind, but I’m not.” Pointing accusingly, “You almost got me, I admit. But any fool could tell- the tension, the stupid flirting. Who else would it fuckin’ be if not for you two?”
Crossing your arms, you do your best to keep out the tremble in your voice. “Quite frankly, I’m almost insulted.”
“I’m not.”
And you do not glower at Gojo…this time. To firmly disprove Naoya’s point, if anything.
The other man clenches his teeth, throwing his hands. “I don’t care what you feel. This is checkmate, so now you both simply die.”
Running your hands through your cage, you could practically feel the power. The strength. “Well, it seems you’re not just beauty- well, you’re not beauty at all, actually.”
“Don’t forget, he isn’t brains either.” Gojo pipes up, nodding towards you. “I know this daddy’s boy wasn’t the one to make this lair. It reads more like the works of-”
“Shut up shut up shut up-” You and him watch in mild astonishment as your captor drags his fingers through his hay-blond locks and pulls. You swear you could count every red, popped blood vessel in his bulging eyes. “-insufferable fucking- I have you two at my mercy, and when my father hears about this he will be pleased. Very pleased.”
You will yourself not to gulp, “There’s nothing you can do to us.”
“Wait and watch. After all, I am the future head of Zenin Corporations, I’ll kill both of you. It doesn’t matter how.”
Before you can torment him any further, he turns tail and throws a withering glare your way. Hands on the doors, it feels like something leaden is forming in your throat. “Better sit tight until the ball ends and we can have our ah- fun little afterparty.”
.
.
.
“Can’t you stop that infernal noise, girl.”
You’re halting your body mid-punch, a thin line of sweat trickling from your temple. Heaving out, “I don’t see you helping.”
Not even waiting for a response before you’re back to gifting the office wall with a solid CLANG! You’d already attempted the same with the metallic partition, to not even a single crater. And by the unaffected state of the rest of the room, you’re slowly realizing that every one of these four walls might just be made from the same material.
Fuck.
BANG!
“For fucks-”
“What are you doing, then?” You’re whirling around to face a precarious Gojo Satoru, standing on one foot on top of a high bookshelf and murmuring utterly ridiculously to something clutched in his palm. “An interpretive dance routine won’t get us out of here.”
He’s been like this for the entire time - it could’ve been hours, it could’ve been minutes - since you’ve been trapped here. All he’s done was rifle through a few files and snatch a few documents. And…this.
Hell- you didn’t even find your diamonds, yet.
“You think about ‘us’ a lot?”
Rolling your eyes- you can’t even bother with a scowl. Instead, turning back to spend your time planting CRASH! after CRASH! over his protests.
“Keep it down, sweetheart, I can’t-” Punching your way through even harder - making even louder noise, on purpose. “-hear-” Perhaps you could kill him before Naoya even gets here. “-the mic-”
“What?” You’re grunting, ears still ringing from the deafening noise yourself.
And just then you find your brows knitting together because Gojo Satoru looks so…satisfied. It strikes you to your very core. Which was definitely never a good sign.
Jumping down from the bookshelf in one, fluid motion, he shows off a tiny rounded gadget grasped in one hand. “You’ll see.” Gojo purrs at your questioning gaze, winking. “You’ll see very soon. We’ll be fine, promise.”
Yeah, you really didn’t like the sound of that.
But before you can swivel back to your target - you swear you were seeing a crack - Gojo’s tucking away the mysterious object into his jacket pocket and taking it off. Letting the silken fabric hit the floor with a dull schwf! Right along with his tie, his belt-
“Wh-what are you doing?” It comes out more breathless than you’d have liked.
“Changing into my supersuit, that’s what.” He lifts up his mask to roll his eyes, full and well knowing. The pinkish perk of his tongue drags a slow glide of wetness across his lips as he unbuckles his belt - looking you straight in the eyes. “Why? This turn ya on, sweetheart?”
“No.”
Yes.
Fuck, you hated how even despite turning away, you couldn’t help but angle your body just so that you’re ogling Gojo from your peripheries. You hated how every thud of clothes hitting the floor made a fresh new layer of goosebumps bead along your clammy, heated skin.
It was so hot.
“You should do the same– you must be getting warm with all that ruthless, blundering violence.” Comes the sing-song voice from behind you, oh- he was enjoying this. It sent Gojo’s heart racing to watch the way you were all flustered because of his actions. His body.
Scoffing, another punch. “You just want to see skin, lecher.”
“With a body like that- fuck yeah.”
“Save it for the wives of the bourgeoisie.”
“Scared, Prowler?”
Oh, for the love of-
“Not on your life, Nightwing.”
And then you do it.
You make the mistake of giving into your instinctual desire to glare at Gojo Satoru, as if your eyes never wanted to leave him. And then you see it.
All his long, tantalizing muscles and curves - being hugged so tightly in that black and blue suit that you could count every one of his eight washboard abs. Fuck. Gojo’s body seemed to go on for miles, pulling the latex tightly over his rippling flesh.
Right on cure, your eyes trail from the bulging valley of his pecs, to the ridges of his v-line to…you gulp.
You always did think it gave him an unfair advantage - just how sexy he was. It was one of the reasons he managed to distract you enough to lock you up in Gotham State Penitentiary last time, after all.
Tittering, “Take a picture it’ll-”
“Take this fist to your face.”
“Kinky~ it’ll only make me harder, y’know.”
Hard-er.
And all of a sudden it was as if the tension in the room was like molasses, and you were drowning in the saccharine concoction. Nightwing- Gojo really was too cocky for his own good, but what was even worse was he could back it up, too.
Your skin flares up with a burning breeze, and your voice comes out peaky. “Fine.” Through his mask, you swear his eyes widen once your hands fly up to take off your own. And then to the zipper of your gown, “But only because it’s so hot.”
Pulling it down just an inch before-
“Wait…let me?”
Just a flash of that glossy black suit of yours, just a single sneak-peek of it enveloping your skin and he was pressing you to the wall. Ravenous.
You were gorgeous.
Balmy heat of his body making yours sizzle up, all Gojo needs is only one of his massive palms to pin both your wrists wayyy above your head. Meaty thighs massaging up against yours to stop your jostling body.
Lips twitching up into a smirk at the carnal hunger in your eyes, “Let me…help with that, yeah?” His gravelly words resound in your eardrums and make your thighs squeeze. The fat fringes of his digits draw slow lines down the side of your figure, memorizing. “S’a hero’s duty, after all.”
You’re growling, “Do it. Do it if you’re not scar- ah!”
But that’s exactly what Gojo had been waiting for.
Exactly the moment to make your pretty voice break, exactly the moment for him to tuck a finger behind your back and all but rip–! your dress from the back.
“Would ya look at thaaaat-” He’s snickering out in awe as your flimsy gown falls halfway through tatters around you, all along with your dagger. Revealing a snug suit that makes his mouth simply water. All gorgeous lines of your body that he can’t get enough of. “Always fuckin’ hated this suit.”
His sinful pants strike you in gusts when Gojo leans his admiring head down, down, down to push right into the valley between your heaving tits. “Made me s-soooo fucking hard every time I saw ya in it.”
Did you just make Gojo Satoru stutter?
No wait- even better, was that achingly hard outline bumping right between your legs what you thought it was?
He’s rubbing the swollen outline of his mushroom tip at the target of your hot core, drinking in that cutely surprised expression on your face. Something devilish. “Oh~? What’s this? I-if this is what it took to shut that pretty mouth, I’d have done it sooner.”
But what he didn’t account for was the way that you would take the initiative shutting him up.
The way you would breach that almost-non-existent air between you two and crash your lips onto his. In French kiss so filthy that it makes Gojo moan–
“You’re better like this-” You spit between his strawberry pink lips, the taste of his bubblegum sweet taste now your most favorite. Cherry flavored, almost. “-when you shut up.”
In response, he’s nipping on your lower lip and draaaagging. Smirking at the adorable squeal that lets off from your ajar jaw, “Can’t even keep yer h-hands off of me, always knew you found me irresistible.” And Gojo doesn’t even need his other hand to entrap you now, pinning you with his muscled front. A sultry glissade of mere inches up n’ down up n’ down up n’-
You could tell that he was big.
So could that soft palm of yours, sneaking down to cop an agonizing feel of his rotund bulge. Fingers rovering generously along the damp crevice of his slit, “What was that?”
“Found me ir-re-sis-”
Harder.
“Shiiiit.” He hiccups, head swimming. “Suck- suck on my tongue.”
You do. Making Gojo’s eyes glaze over at the twist of your pillowy lips, making him rut-
“Fuckin’ dirty little thing.” The rough texture of his tastebuds swirl across your own, and even through his mask you swear he looked fucked-out already. Taking off his suave gloves, he leaves one spank on your thigh. Two. “Mmm- spread them f’me now.”
You’re snarling, despite the furious throb you feel from your leaking cunt. “Who’d ya think you are to ngh- boss me around?”
“Have it your way then, girl.”
And when he says that shit, he means it.
Before you know it, he’s sitting on the capped curves of his knees with a loud bam! You’re grimacing for but a mere split-second at just how much it must have hurt, before realizing that Gojo doesn’t care.
It’s the last fucking thing on his mind once he’s gliding an open, calloused palm underneath one of your unsteady legs and wrangling it on top of his sculpted shoulders.
You’re latching a hand through his soft, fawny strands with a yelp. “Asshole.”
“Witch.”
“Pussy.”
“Pussy, alriiight—” The borders of his short, manicured nails draw an invisible line down, down, down to coast the puffy fissure of your pussylips. Before pinching and tearing cleanly between the legs of your latex suit. Breathing deeply in- “There she is. Pretty girl…hey there, the name’s Satoru. I’m the stuff of your wettest dreams.”
You can’t even bite out a retort - a plea - before Gojo’s diving nose-deep allll the way into your drooling cunt. Nudging apart your gluey folds with his perky buttoned nose, lengthy tongue slathering your hole with a fat drag-
He’s basically glued. Addicted with only a single taste, and swerving his tongue to scratch up in solid, dizzying circles around and around your soppy entrance.
“Sh-shit-” Your thighs break out in jitters, and he only responds with a firm tug to interlock your craned limb ‘round his neck. Making your spine bend the perfect curvature off of the cool wall, “-more. More.”
SPANK!
The rims of Gojo’s fingers burn into the globes of your ass, and he’s so unrepentant about it. So smug. Making such a spectacular show of letting your globs of slick pour down his tongue.
Kiss-bitten maw hanging wiiidely agape to make you watch the thick rivulets of sap that hit the back of his awaiting throat. He’s dripping wet all the way down to his bobbing Adam’s apple, treacly splotches of juice hitting the floor in puddles.
Gojo gurgles out something feral, still mushing his pert maw to your wet mound so you’re feeling each n’ every vibration.
“Dooooown, kitty.” Another spank, and another steamy snog of his mouth. Though, this time he’s letting his pearly whites catch on your plumpened clit. Dangerously so. “Watch ngh- watch it, I bite.”
With a frustrated tut, you’re pushing his pretty features even deeper into your pussy. Making him pinch your sensitive nub between his teeth even harder. Slobbering a long drag from every inch of his pointed chin, to the very apples of his high cheekbones.
“Maybe m’into that…Satoru.”
“Oh- Oh.” Through the bleary gaps in your eyes, you’re noticing that Gojo was blushing. Bright. Red up to the tips of his ears. Burning skin chafing up into your own, and you’re practically melting at his heat.
That sound was like heaven to him. You were like heaven to him. And Gojo’s dilated irises hold direct eye contact with you once he’s digging his round fingertips roughly onto your asscheeks. Resonating out such saturated squelches after squelches as his tongue laps every nook and cranny. “You’re gonna get it- fuck, you’re gonna get it, sweetheart.”
So many delirious moans rip out of you with every slash of his tongue, perking it in every right sensitive spot of yours - without even trying.
Mewling, “Toru- ngh- Toru.”
“Easy there, easy there.” He giggles out in a wet sputter right into your inner thighs, ragged voice all waterlogged with so many ounces of you and your sweet pussy. In the blink of an eye, you feel like you’re floating - only mere moments later do you realize that it’s because Gojo’s holding you up.
With only one hand.
Relieving you of any thought other than jerking your cunt repeatedly on top of his open mouth in a sultry tempo. Back and forth.
“Have no idea h-how long I’ve wanted to do this.” He spits into your weeping pussy - both literally and figuratively. Free hand darting upwards to push aside the glutinous barrier of your folds and spray it with a thick wad of spittle. Licking over the shiny sheen, “No idea. Always actin’ so ngh- high and mighty. Had to fuck my fist every time I fought ya, had to run off and- shiiiit cum to the thought of you all over my tongue.”
Gojo was babbling, and right now it was as if he started and couldn’t stop.
“Annoying fuckin’ girl.” He’s snarling, every syllable falling out before he can even think. The swollen point his thumb treks past your walls and catches on the fluttering orifice of your hole. “Ya just need to be eaten out reeeeal proper. Lemme show you how it’s done.”
Then you feel like you’re being split-apart, and you knew you were fucked.
Because Gojo’s fingers were both long and girthy.
Such a lethal combination that had you mussing up his silky bangs while you held on for dear life.
His barreling inches crawl right past that first cozy outer ring, showering it with such lustrous layers of pure, slippery need. Pushing and pushing until they’re skirting to thrash right into the bulging area of your g-spot.
And just when he’s pummelling your molten wall with a harsh strike, just when Gojo’s mouth parts at the pure ecstasy of finding it. Of how pretty you looked.
You’re letting your own, too, in a frail whimper. “Th-that all you got, Nightwing?”
“Ohhh, I love a woman that bullies me.”
All that Gojo whispers into your cunt - low, almost reverent - before his touch turns deadly. Cock aching painfully, thighs squeezing together until his pulsing, hot shaft gets squeezed.
You’re faced with the full force of his slick-covered fingers pumping direct hit after hit. Sending white-hot flashes of pressure straight from the stout ends of his fingerpads and right to your brain.
“That all I got? H-heh, that all I got-” He’s echoing your previous words like a mantra. Breaking. Octaves higher as if he was on the verge of laughing. “How fucking cute.”
“C-cute?”
“So fucking cute.”
“I-I’m not- fuck!”
Pinpointing his long index purposefully in a massage right up against your g-spot, like it was a button for him to toy and push.
Gojo’s smile leers ever-wider as he holds it there, listening to the way your moans pitch creakily. “What’s that?” And you’re barely spilling off a few more syllables in response before he angles his wrist deeper to push down even harder. Making your entire body shudder, “What’s that? Yeahh, s’what I thought.”
You were so tight around him that Gojo’s forcing himself to bite his driveling bottom lip to hold back countless embarrassing whimpers. Because you were clinging onto him like gum, tugging his fingers back into your boiling hot depths every time he’s reeling back.
And the problem with Gojo Satoru was that he couldn’t decide.
He wanted you. And he wanted it all.
Couldn’t stop from alternating between scissoring his dexterous fingers into every ridge and crevice of your goopy cunt, and making out with you like he was parched. Lolling his tongue like he was drunk- all over your swooping slit and rubbing in tiny hearts on top of your hooded clit.
“Need you. Need you s-shoooo fuuuckin’ badly.” He couldn’t even speak properly at this point. You’re flinching as a third finger slimily squirms inside your pussy. “Want it all.”
So fucking sloppy in ways you’ve never seem him.
Your dewdrops of slick coat the outside of his mouth and stick in delicate strings, growing thicker and thicker by the minute as he once more strikes your magical spot and makes your toes curl. Gasping, “Yeah- yeah, fuck. Take it, take it ngh- all, Satoru—”
You think you’re gonna snap.
“Upsie daisy.”
Basically being manhandled to lean your entire weight on his shoulders. You don’t think you’re even holding yourself up at all this point. Feeling every flex and ripple of the hero’s deltoids underneath your fleshy mounds.
You’re so loud - and not just from your mouth.
“Hell yeah. Talk t’me.” Juicy sloshes spring onto the edges of Gojo’s mouth after every gyration, practically devouring you. He narrows his lust-murked stare to your glistening hole, giggling - fucking giggling - at how your hips just can’t stay still. “She’s saying…ohhh she’s saying- saying she’s gonna be good f’me.”
You’re blinking down with dazed intrigue, watching with an empty head at the way that his motions only get faster. And faster.
Pupils sprinting allll the way to the back of your heavy lids, “Close. Think- think m’so close, Toru.”
“Ya think?” He muses, drawing a bold stripe up your bruised and battered g-spot. One so hard that it has the corners of your lips flooding with a bubbling torrent of saliva, it has your eyes shuttering- “Oh, girl– I know. You’re cummin’ already, sweetheart.”
Shit- you were? You were.
Head spinning, throat raw.
And you didn’t even realize it with just how fucked-out you were on his long, lecherous tongue. Rendering your head permanently dizzy with those vulgar patterns he was drawing with it, both inside and out.
Your goopy walls tingle with the force of your high, ears popping with the pressure of those startling peaks after peaks. Ones that Gojo drags out gladly.
“Cumming from the hah- the great Gojo Satoru, huh?” He’s groaning, tonality husked with a shiver of something predatory. Unstable. Needy. Smashing away over and over and over on your most tender spots, buzzing. “Cumming all over my mouth. Always was meant for this- meant for me.”
If you thought that the squelches from before were blasphemous, then you surely weren’t ready for the slurps that follow now.
So loud.
Slithering the curling tip of his tongue to slap down on your quivering entrance, he’s pounding your hole dually with a mean mouth and even meaner fingers. Merciless.
You’re cumming and cumming and he’s stringing you along with every explosive ram and suck. Tired fingers pulling out of your hole with a wet plop! and lurching down to squeeze his achingly hard cock. Grinding the fat of his palm over n’ over across his length-
“S-soooo sensitive—” You’re sobbing out, eyes leaking hot tears once the crescendo of your orgasm pulls taut, powerful tingles rushing from where Gojo was latching his neat teeth onto your clit and biting.
And not even wringing your fingers to scratch his scalp, not even draaaagging Gojo by his sweat-matted hair could get him to part.
He wasn’t done yet. No.
His chin hits the very back of your cunt as he targets your pussy with yet another viscous few wads of spittle. Scattering it all over your sloppy hole when he’d drunk up all your sweet sap and there wasn’t enough. “Wanna taste more o-of you. S’fuckin’ sweet, wanna taste more.”
Because to him it would never be enough.
Not even when you’d finally let your toes uncurl, not even when your cracked whimpers were turning hushed. Bated.
Not even when he finally breaks his kiss between your legs with one last looooong slurp. Well, multiple. Gojo simply kept parting and coming back every few seconds with the most vulgar kisses because it hurt him to leave the very same pussy he’s been dreaming of since the day he first met you.
“Fuck. Fuck.” Gojo seethes out through rough pants. The soppy thwack! of wiry ribbons of drool from both sets of lips smacking him in the face. It lacquers all over his prettily flushed face and makes a mess.
Yet, you think he’s never looked prettier.
And the only thing messier was that smile he was giving you - dopey, and crazed. With beads of syrupy slick hanging off of his cerise lips, “You…you got my mask all dirty, sweetheart.”
“Dirty” was an understatement.
Gojo’s black mask was drenched, soaked through until every bit of his milky skin touching it smeared with a shimmery lamination of sap. You’d done such a number on him that when he hooks a thumb underneath, it lets out the most sinful squelch!
“Hear that?” You’re watching, speechless, once he tugs it off haphazardly. Impatiently. Ethereal white locks splaying out and over like a halo, “That’s the sound of ya being eaten out reeeal good n’ proper.”
And when Nightwing takes his mask off, you have to blink.
Because you’d fully and completely thought that Gojo Satoru could never be prettier - but when he was like this? When you could finally see his face fully?
Shit, you’re feeling your heart hammer against your ribs with a painful ba-dump–! just by looking into his summer blue eyes. The cute blush painting his features even more evident, and you’re catching his nose crinkle.
You’re pushing back the stray twines of his bangs sticking onto his prespired forehead. A touch that makes him shiver, a touch that makes his hardened cock twitch in his supersuit. “Never put that on a-again, I swear.”
“Ate that pretty cunt out and you’ve hah- fallen f’me already, hm~?” He’s wriggling his pale brows, and the look in his eyes is so enchanted that it leaves you momentarily speechless.
If you’d fallen for Gojo now, then he had already fallen for you a long, long time ago.
You hand on his hair tightens, searing. Angling his handsomely pussydrunken face until he’s looking up at you, “And who was saying they’ve been hngh- dreaming of eating my ‘pretty cunt’ for ages now?”
“I…”
“Shut up.”
And when you tell him to shut up, he shuts up. For perhaps the first time in the twenty-something years he’s been terrorizing this Earth.
Oh, for just how famed Nightwing was for his reflexes, Gojo barely sees it coming when you’re pushing him onto the muggy floor and collapsing right on down with him. Feverish. Needy.
He was so fucking hard that you swear you could see the zig-zag of his inflated veins through that massive bulge. Through his clothes-
Seriously, you’re ripping through the tough latex-y fabric wrapping around his inner thighs with a smirk. If he got to rip your supersuit then you should only return the favor.
You can’t help yourself, the very tip of your mushy tongue drips with a few pearls of saliva with just how badly you wanted him in your mouth. You’d seen the way that Gojo was huffing and grinding his cock as much as he could when he was filthily making out with your cunt.
Judging by the way he was jolting and moaning at your every touch, you were surprised he didn’t cum just from-
Oh.
He did.
And from the startled look of awe on Gojo’s face, he didn’t realize he had, either.
“Oh?” You’re skimming the fat plane of your thumb over his leaky orifice right in the middle, bawling out thick ropes of creamy white which slipped n’ slid allll down your wrist in generous heaps. “A-and you called me ‘cute’.”
Shit, but you didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know where to look.
True to his word, Gojo was big - more than big, actually.
His cock was oh-so-pretty, standing red and proud at something near nine or ten inches. Oodles of buttery seed dripping down the side and ready for you to lick up.
Nestled above breeder balls, he’s lightning bolted with fat, rosé veins you couldn’t wait to feel scratch up your insides. A girthy circumference that made your poor knuckles ache to wrap around, so needy that every throb made your wrist jolt.
So…sexy.
“Satoru…”
And something in your tone of voice seems to jolt Gojo into overdrive.
He’s letting his meaty thighs crack open, displaying you with the attractive ripples of muscle. “C’mon, sweetheart-” A large hand softly cups the back of your unsteady head, “-clean up this- this mess you made.”
If this was any other time, you might’ve snapped back something about it being the mess he made himself. If this was any other time, you might’ve teased him for the teary cracks shattering his words.
But right now, you were striking the bullseye of Gojo’s round, coral pink divot with a hefty dump of saliva. Thumbing it right over his weeping middle and lazing your tongue tenderly all down the grooves of his veins.
You could feel him throb and buck underneath you, so turned on that you could practically taste it.
“Gods. Fuck. Fuck, girl-” He’s spitting out through lowered lashes, watching your tongue flop out to lap ‘round and ‘round his mushroomy tip like your favorite lolly. “-like that. Just like that.”
Gojo tucks a thumb underneath the curve of your chin, prying your maw to fall open just enough so that he can tap-tap-tap his blushing, thick head on your tongue. So that he can spurt out a few more gumdrops of seed and watch them glisten all the way to your throat.
He’s watching you with an open mouth, “Oh yeah. Oh yeah, my girl. Now you’re gonna hah- take all of me, right?”
Your pussy twitches with interest at his words — “my girl.” And the only thing you can think to do is let your digits sift underneath his tender slit, grinning. “Make me.”
It’s all the confirmation that Gojo needs to lurch open your slobbering mouth even further and plunge his veiny cock into you. Hissing at the way your tongue drags underneath his sinking shaft, he burns red to the tips of his ears.
“N-now now, play nice and say ‘ahhh’—” Your mouth was so hot. And it was working so many wonders on his fat cock that it was forcing him to gasp out tiny sobs. “Take me- fucking- fucking take me or god help me-”
He didn’t even know what he was saying.
Never breaking sultry eye contact, Gojo’s swabbing his cum around your plumped lips like a whitish lipstain. Fucking up feverishly, his trickling tip hits the very bottom of your throat and stays there-
“Ya like that?” He’s snarling out, perfect teeth pulled back on full display. You’re moaning into his tufted, snowy-white pubes at the sight of his glinting canines. “‘Course you do, course you do. F-fuck don’t know how many ngh- time I-I’ve imagined this. All because of you, nasty girl-”
Without warning, he’s pinching your nose together and you whine in answer. Crescents of your nails clawing down red, red lines all over his toned abs, “Alright alright- ngh- mostly because of you.”
He lets go, finally. Snickering at the steady tears that fall down your cute face.
Fighting against his flapping lids to watch the way you’re bobbing your head in a primal cadence now. Your nose brushing up against his heated skin every time. A fat few rivers of drool find themselves glazing your lips, your chin, Gojo’s shifting pelvis in a puddle.
He was so hot and weighty inside, and your jaw was starting to ache just from the sheer bulky fatness. Your cunt leaking - bawling - at the way his ballooned-up veins rub against the roof of your mouth up n’ down.
“You and that damn suit n’ those damn eyes a-and that-” He bucks up, up, up, core tensing sexily each time. Smashing the rounded curve of his tight balls against your chin. “-damn mouth. Now mine, all mine oh—”
Your fingers just barely graze over Gojo’s plump sack, making his precious, pinkish skin wrinkle. Making him gasp- “O-oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck-” His head snaps upwards, eyes rolling to the very backs of his head. “-c’mere. C’mere.”
Maybe it’s because of the remaining aftereffects of your mind-shattering orgasm, maybe it’s because you wanted him so bad you couldn’t think; but you’re so pliable in Gojo’s big, strong arms.
He’s bending a few degrees to scoop you up in a mess of boneless limbs, all in one go. Sitting you all pretty and struggling to balance on his slender hips– his v-shape was mouth-watering.
And your thighs fit so perfectly snugly on either side, glissading your pussylips up and down on his cylindrical shaft. You’re riding all along his bumpy veins, head bobbing at every probing spiral that pokes past your folds.
“Fuck me.” Gojo whispers against your throat. Reaching over languidly to rip even more of his supersuit for you, all the way down his inner thighs, his chest, everywhere. For you to ruin. “Fuh-fuck me.”
Whining, “Give it- give it t’me, Toru–”
He blushes.
You didn’t know who was yearning for it more.
Gojo repeatedly spanks your slippery hole with the very rounded crown of his cockhead, sandwiching himself between your bloated lips. And the sight makes him grin, the sight makes him twitch- “Open. Open wiiiide, sweetheart. Tight fuckin’ thing.”
Your knobbly knees ricket as you splay them out shamelessly, “‘Nough teasing. Want it- a-and I want it now.”
Bratty girl.
Though, he always has loved that side of you.
And it’s exactly what makes Gojo depart his hips off of the ground in a sudden rut and fill you up to your brim. Just the plump circle of his tip mazing past your entrance enough to render you stupidly speechless.
You swear you hear him bludgeon just the few inches of his head into your channel with a wet plop! Before your ears ring with something even louder…even wetter.
“Fucking- shit shit shit-” You’re almost letting your mouth sing with a whimper once his gorgeous eyes shutter closed, a cute pout smearing over your face. Gojo’s shifting, he’s restless, he’s planting his feet firmly flat on the floor and bucking wildly. Through clenched teeth, “This is- all- your- fault.”
Suddenly, you’re feeling something warm and thick soaking through your walls. Slathering ribbons of liquid sloshing around your wet inners and mixing with the waves of your aroused slick.
Did he just…? Just from putting it inside?
And, really, you felt so heavenly inside - what was a man to do?
Your gooey walls molding around his length like molten gold, it was driving Gojo crazy until all he could do was wrap his arms around the small of your back as if you were his lifeline. Panting out cloudy breaths against your face, he stares deeply into your eyes and cums-
Your eyes flap open alertly, “T-Toru– did you just-”
“Shut up.” He’s huffing, gnawing on his wobbly lower lip like chewing gum. To shut you up, he’s shoving your face between the plummy cushions of his pecs. Grunting when your tongue comes out to suck his rose pink nipples. “I’m just- I’m- ngh–”
Just fucking his globular wads of seed until you were overspilling, is what. Pumping the bottom of your pussy so full that you’re feeling him smear sticky streaks down your cervix, the gluey-texture making your back arch for more more more-
“Can’t help that this p-pussy is so fuck- filthy.” He’s trawling out syllables from the back of his hoarse throat, a thin line of saliva leaking from one end of that fucked-out grin. Eyeing the plapping of his cum pouring in bucketloads out of you and onto his skin, “That you’re so…”
Can’t help that he’s been dreaming of this since forever.
Gojo didn’t have to say a word, because the massive puddle formulating from between your icing-topped folds was chatty enough. Really chatty, in fact, that the man finds himself nodding away blearily with every shrill squelch! from down below.
Humming, “Mhm— real t-talkative, aren’t you, pretty girl?” His pants puncture with a few breathless titters, watery gaze flickering between your sweaty face and where he was disappearing. Depraved. “Nicer than her, too.”
Lips falling into a partially-offended, partially-delirious oh! your brows furrow, “S-so mean. Don’t make me- ngh- don’t make me g-get off, Satoru.”
“Get off, huuuuh?” He’s drawling, hands pushing you down even further along his blushing red cock. You were so insistent and fiery, it made him so much fucking harder. And it was cute, the way you’re flinching when his tip throbs even fatter. “If you wanna ngh- tap- tap out, jus’ say so, my girl.”
“Never.”
“Never?”
Rolling those beautiful eyes of yours, “You’d tap out first.”
Fuck yeahhhhh, he was shifting his hips just a little to make you feel how much girthier you were making him. The clingy sides of your walls snatching on the way his crownhead pulls taut, stretching your innards to the very max. “No. You.”
He doesn’t know if you even realize just how much more damp you’re getting. A syrupy wet patch already formed and growing on his v-line, dribbling down to his twitchy balls. “Scared, Nightwing?”
“I’m not even trying, sweetheart.”
And with that said, only now do you realize just how true his words are.
Two impressive hands interlace on the crown of your sticky scalp, pushing you- bullying you down like some glorified ragdoll.
Your thighs twitch as if you were unsure whether to clench or spread. You can feel Gojo’s sweltering hot cock squeezing and squeezing his fully proud length inside of you - you didn’t even realize that he hadn’t bottomed out yet because he was simply so big.
But when he did finally fit all the way?
God, it felt like he was drilling his split-ended tip right into your lungs.
“There we go- thereeee we go.” Gojo breathes out thickly, and it felt like something leaden in his tummy was finally unraveling after all this time. Finally stuffed inside your pussy. “Knew you could t-take me- heh. S’biiig, isn’t it?”
Really big.
And every shallow bounce of yours made your pulse burst near your throat, stars sparking behind your burdensome eyelids when he pinpricks tiny speckles of pre on your most favorite spots.
“Yeah yeah- ride me.” He grapples at your scalp and pulls. “Fuckin’ ride me. S’all yours n’ I wanna see you ngh- milk it.”
“Gods- ohhhh gods.” You’re shrilling out in a strained pitch when he jerks upwards and clashes into your g-spot, your nails claw ragged lines on the carpet as if you’d just been thrown to the wolves. Stupid now. Hips jerking away from his tantalizing pace-
“No running.” Gojo spits, pained. One hand curling around your throat and dragging you down to smack the backs of your thighs against his weighty balls, the other cupping your face delicately. His long, textured tongue laps up the salty pearls of your tears with looooud slurps. “Wh-where the ngh- fuck do you think you’re going?”
You didn’t even have an answer because every possible one was being fucked out of you. Brutally.
One sharp jab. Two. Three into your tender alcoves and you feel like collapsing, your front melting into his toned one, drool spilling out in spit-loads.
It’s all you can do to gyrate your waist back and forth in sloppy circles to meet his pace. Looong figure eights that made Gojo’s thighs shudder, and your clit scratch his creamy happy trail. There were so many thorough inches being fed into your cunt, probing deeply. Over and over and over-
And no matter how full you were he’d keep rutting and rutting. Like he couldn’t stop. Rotund head sagging down your cervix to leave streaks of pre and he was still pushing.
Gojo bores up at you with glazed eyes, saliva-glistening lips parted ever-so-slightly while he pounded up into you as if in a daze.
You’re swearing his dilated pupils have formed into hearts- “Mmmm– love you, my girl.” He carries out a tender kiss on your forehead, and a rough squeeze on your throat. Jostling your lolling head back and forth ever-so-slightly, to dab his digits in a seeping puddle of slick and push past your lips. “Love fucking you. Being haaaaa– fucked by you…”
It’s not often that anyone can catch Gojo Satoru off guard.
But you’re not just “anyone.”
With your honed expertise, all it takes is one jackhammered thud! into the back of your pussy - two - before you’re flipping your ravenously glissading bodies over.
“Then f-fuck me properly, Toru.”
Maybe he heard your words through the static-y buzzing in his head, maybe he didn’t. Either way your tone makes something inside him twitch, full-bodied.
And you don’t think Gojo even registers it beyond a stuttered ohhh–! at first, you don’t think he even realizes the way he’s immediately sprawling you out flat on your back and bending you into a rude mating press.
Still not slowing down. Still not faltering.
Ah, you don’t know if you’re a genius or just plain stupid. Because you still manage to yelp, “S’that- s’that it?”
As if on primal instinct, he’s letting out a growl near your mouth. “Hah- haaah– Y’know…I-I’m reeeeal flexible, my girl.” Your calves burn with exertion once he throws them unceremoniously over his shoulders, core tensing in a way you can’t help but ogle. “Real flexible.”
At first you didn’t understand why he was telling you this. At first.
Before Gojo drags his large feet up, up, up until he’s planting them where you can see - sweaty thighs lugging forwards where he’s bending you in half and then some.
It was so cute how pliable you were underneath him, manhandled to every whim and want and need-
This brand-spanking new angle was everything.
Thrashing into your springy cervix - hard. Stretching out deeply-seated sweet spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. It makes you feel so fucking filthy at the sting of his papping balls bruising your ass like never before.
And his tip is so greedy, feeling the swashing splash of his own seed dripping all over your walls and still bursting to erupt with more. He could tell he was close, aligning himself to crash into his favorite target of your g-spot.
“Fuck–” Your mindless legs threaten to close - not that he would ever let them. “So much. Fuck me, p-please.”
“What was that?”
“Please…”
“What was that?”
“Please!”
Gojo’s hunched over, seethingly red in the face. Ivory bangs half-way covering his intensely half-lidded stare, stray spatters of perspiration hit your chest like bullets.
“Gonna ngh- fuck you properly.” He spits, hands ghosting over your tummy - namely that globed bulge he was fucking into you. A mere nudge of it with his thumb leaves Gojo’s breath leaving his lungs in a sizzling woosh! Sculptured chest vibrating, “Gonna breed you properly. Gonna…”
You’re flinching when fingers waft over your nubbed clit, the stark volts of electricity prompting your ass to hit back even rougher against his sharp pelvis.
“Want it, Toru.” Wobbly arms wrapping around his flushed neck to pull him in close. He looks at you lovingly, while he fucks you like he hates you. “W-want you to ngh- breed me.”
And that does it - for the both of you.
Gojo Satoru’s breath hitches with a cry, balls achingly tight. Needy. “Gonna make you m-mine.”
Running headfirst into your highs, it hits you like a tidal wave. You don’t know where you’re seeing white from; the flurries of stars speckling your vision, or from the torrents of cum Gojo pours out past your sloppy entrance.
“Your p-pussy–!” Gojo bursts, drilling into you as if he was crazed. Fat tip swirling around your pretty insides with decorative ribbons of pure white, his cum seeps into you thickly and you swear you can feel him well up the door to your womb. “O-ohhhh your pussy your pussy your- p-pussy, takin’ me so well.”
“Fuck me-” You tug on his pink lips with your teeth and it makes Gojo empty out another few webbed streaks of sap into the bottom of your pussy with a thud! Brows furrowing, “Deeper.” Even though he was so deep you think you might burst. “Harder.” So hard you felt raw. “More.”
You were already overspilling, the throes of your burning hot orgasm just barely letting you register the splat-splat-splat of his cum pumping in n’ out of you.
Two of his slender fingers urgently scoop those few escaping globs back through your pussylips, Gojo’s girth so wide that he doesn’t even have to try to plug you full and tight.
“A-all safe and sound.” He’s patting at the cumflated outline on your tummy, cylindrical and round. Your walls were so plump and tight with him that just the simplest dig had you squealing. “A-all…”
And Gojo looked like he could purr if he could.
All fucked out and satisfied, the pussydrunken grin on his face seemed permanent - and so was that tender glint in his eye. Peeking up at you through long lashes, he leans his head over to listen to your juddering heartbeat, “All mine.”
Your tummy lurches, and you find yourself smiling before you can stop. But it’s not like you wanted to stop.
In fact, you didn’t want to stop at all.
“That last one’s a tie.” Your voice scratches the favorite crevices of Gojo’s brain; so mushy and melted that it takes a long while before his lips drop into an understanding oh! You sweetly peck his lips, “Rematch, Nightwing?”
Fuck.
His poor, overworked cock twitches.
Fuck.
And of course, it was a rematch with the two of you.
Of course, the one rematch turned into two. Into three. Into four. Into- you’d lost count after five, and you were sure right now that you couldn’t even do any maths past that.
After breaking Naoya Zenin’s loveseats, after splitting his desk literally in half. Eventually, you’d either forgotten about the man himself and your fate, or you just didn’t care. You were so fucked dumb that all you can cry is a broken, “Sa-to–ru!”
Because if there was one thing that Batman taught in his rigorous training scheme, it was stamina.
Gojo was taking you from behind right now- well, that was being generous.
He was slumped down over you until his abs were liquefying down your arched spine, head buried deep into the clammy crook of your neck. Swirling his sensitive cock all around your tenderized insides, thighs trembling where he was pinning the both of you down onto the floor. Too sloppy and fucked to even try anywhere else.
“M’here—” Gojo drawls out, heavy tongue stumbling over the sounds. He pats the cute tummy bulge that he’s responsible for first, and then your gushing pussy. Pulling you to him, he really was acrobatic, “M’here. Toru’s h-here, my sweetheart.”
Fuck- those last two words make him jetstream out a sweltering few beads of seed. He couldn’t even cum properly anymore.
Driving into you until every voluminous mass in his body was now packed intensely between your snug walls, he shifts inside of you with a sloooow gyration and feels the knotted mess he’s made.
“My sweetheart–” Gojo’s biceps bulge where he’s shoving your head into the soft carpet, into the pond of saliva that just won’t stop leaking from your parted mouth. His words depart in a cracked plea, “My girl.”
“Y-yours.”
Maybe you’re cumming, maybe you’re not - you don’t even know, at this point.
Half-lucidly aware of the faint tingles shooting up your spine, and making your temples throb. Gojo himself feels out of control, hips reeling back, back, back to slam into your jiggling ass.
He’s pawing himself a rough handful of your fleshy mounds once he throws his head back and lets his aching shaft jolt. Straight from his drenched base, all the way to his overstimulated tip- exhausting out one bead of pre. Two.
Before Gojo cums dry.
“O-oh.” His teeth snag near your pulse, wet splatters of tears soaking your skin. Something animalistic twinging at the back of his cottony mind at the way you literally milked him until he was dry. Despite himself, he laughs. High-pitched. Crazed. “S’a- tie- s’a tie, I went e-easy on you…”
Somehow, you’re managing a grin. “My hero~”
And Gojo was just about to open his mouth - maybe to counter back something nonsensical, maybe to ask for a rematch over n’ over until he passes out.
But what happens instead is that overly familiar metallic gate explodes open.
You have to blink away the clingy fog in your eyes in alarm, and you’re embarrassed to admit that it took longer than you thought. Dammit, he really did win that last round- ah, rematch.
Still stunned, you can barely even dredge up some semblance of dignity as a towering man in a red helmet and skin-tight black suit walks in. Past his sexy biker vest, and those muscles upon chiseled muscles, you think you see- yeah, it really is. A red Batman logo.
Red Hood.
A low snicker sounds from underneath his mask, swiftly being taken off to reveal a man so pretty that you feel your jaw slacken.
He runs a hand through silky, waist-length black hair, amethyst eyes glinting with amusement and something…more as he takes in the sight. Long lashes fluttering, he lets go of a specialized machine gun you assume was used to break down your cage. “Yo, Satoru.”
“Suguru.” Gojo gruffs out in a condensed gasp, though he makes no move to stop. None at all. Still balls-deep, and rubbing his tip down your spongy cervix. “Wh-what- fuuuck, don’t squeeze like that, my girl- took ya so ngh- long?”
Red Hood- Suguru, waves his other hand airily, only then do you see the knife clutched in it. The extremely…bloodied knife. “Ah, y’know~ Had to clean up some messes. Toji wanted revenge on the Zenins, the usual family drama.” Eyes flashing, “He’ll be up once he’s done to ah…join us here.”
Oh god, was the entire Bat Family here? You get the distinct feeling that this was not just “usual family drama.”
But you can’t say a word when the other man bores his piercing gaze onto you next. Tone smooth and syrupy, “So…Prowler, I’m assuming, by the ripped up costume?”
You feel your skin heat. “The one and only.”
“Geto Suguru, gorgeous.” He pulls out a tiny spherical gadget that looked exactly like the one Gojo had been toying with hours- days? ago. “I already know your name, Toji and I heard it over and over. Which, by the way, you should remind that idiot Satoru to turn his microphone off.”
Ah, that explains a lot. And wait- it was on this whole time?
Shit.
While Gojo only huffs out a pant of laughter, planting yet another deep jackhammer into you, you feel the apologies bubble to your lips. That is, until-
“Unless you want someone to feel…” Geto licks his lips slooowly, bangs swooning over his sleazy gaze. You watch with widened eyes as a hand falls to his bulky belt, carnally. “-left out.”
A/N. Mhm what happens when ya let a girl listen to Nightcrawler.
SUMMARY: no summary. just the tip gf x balls deep bf trope.
TAGS: implied marathon sex, dumbification, overstimulation, unprotected sex, this is all consensual, but just in case, i will tag this as dubious consent.
THIS IS MEANT FOR FANTASY ONLY.
PAIRINGS: LEON KENNEDY/you, LUIS SERRA/you, ALBERT WESKER/you, JACK KRAUSER/you, CARLOS OLIVEIRA/you, CHRIS REDFIELD/you.
A/N: consider this as an apology for being away, and will probably continue to be away after a while. T_T but i hope everyone has been doing well.
NSFW UNDER THE CUT!
LEON S. KENNEDY. ♡
you don't know how long you both have been indulging in each other—all you know is that your cunt's jus' so sensitive. but you want more. you need more. thinkin' about being empty and not being stretched full by your boyfriend's makin' your waterline glimmer with tears.
"leoooon, please—,"
leon stared at you, in awe that you were still conscious. aware. clearly, he's not fucking you properly. "please what, angel?" "fuck me—fuck me, please. need your cock. just put it in," his fingertips tease your clit, and you whine, shaking your head. "nooo—nooooo . . need your cock. please, leon,"
today, leon finds out his ovulating girlfriend can turn into a literal succubus.
"but you said your cunt's all sore, sweet girl. you were crawling away," open-mouthed kisses are bestowed on your cheek. "just the tip. just put the tip in," leon could feel his cock stir, quickly growing erect with your neediness.
"okay, baby. whatever you say," he kisses your teary eyes before hovering over you and grabbing ahold of your legs. just the tip. just the tip. just the tip. leon has to repeat to himself, lathering the leaking crown with his creampie mixed with your slick.
just the tip. just . . the tip.
your creampied pussy makes a lewd squelch as leon slowly pushes the head in. but you're both in cloud nine, eyes rolling like it's the first time you've fucked each other. "y, yes, like that!" you whimper, reaching over to your hypersensitive clit and making aimless circles.
leon begins to move, only giving your cunt shallow, slow thrusts. "fuck, angel—," he lets his head fall back, pleasure enveloping his tip. your cunt's so fucking wet and warm. your fingers pick up their pace, cunt throbbing with intense pleasure. who knew you could jus' get off from just the tip?
"faster,"
faster?
how can leon do that without shoving himself balls deep into you? "faster—pleaseplease, leon," you sobbed. "y/n—i," he bucked his hips, trying to go faster without splittin' you open with his cock. whimpers are spilling from leon's mouth, growing needier by the second, his vision continuing to blur as he eased just the tip in, as per your request.
the way you were clenching around him, creaming around his cock—it drove him crazy. how could he not fuck you? leon has to reminded himself that you want just the tip. but he's relying solely on instinct. and before he could even realize it, he's plunged himself deep by accident, and you're wide-eyed, an unanticipated orgasm taking you both by surprise.
"leon—♡!"
"y/n—i'm sorry, sorry—,"
he can't stop. he won't stop, pounding you into the mattress and making sure you feel every length of him with every ferocious thrust. he's drooling, watching you squirm. something about seeing your pussy spurt out clear fluid with every push in makes him feral, potentially unlocked a new turn on and fantasy to jerk off to.
"t, told you just the tip," you whimper, sniffling, and leon cradles your head, essentially smushing your face into his chest. "sorry. 'm sorry, sorry—i l, love your cunt." leon sobbed, his hips doing all the work for him, pummeling into you without mercy.
spit's shining on leon's built chest as you automatically kiss and lick at the area. marks in the shape of your canines are left, and leon hisses when you bite him again.
"gonna cum, y, y/n—gonna cum—cumming. 'm cumming, oh god,"
he vigorously rams his cock in your leaking pussy, hard yet hurried; it's sloppy, and leon's just desperate to fill you again. your moans are muffled by his flesh, and leon has yet to notice that he's crushing you with his chest. not that you minded, either.
with a few more unrhythmic slams of his hips, he's spilling himself in you, all of his cum just overspilling as he kept rutting into you. "hah— h, haah . . so good—so good," he babbles, spit dripping on his chin as his eyes rolled back. "leooohn—," you grunt from beneath your boyfriend.
it's only when his orgasm finally comes down that he stops moving, clarity slowly seeping into his fucked out mind. he retires from you almost immediately, now-concerned eyes soaking in the sight of you. did you pass out? "y/n," a hand caresses your rosy cheek.
"y/n, please come back to me,"
"mhh . . "
oh thank god. he knows you're just fine, but he was still worried. "are you okay?" he whispers, brushing away the stray strings of your hair. "i'm sorry, i was . . too into it," you chuckle when you feel him pepper your face with kisses.
"i'm fine. still in one piece, baby."
you both groan when he slowly pulls out, the rest of his creampies spilling out of your gaping cunt. "i love you, leon." you mutter, weakly wrapping your arms around him. "i love you too, angel."
LUIS SERRA. ♡
"luis . . just the tip,"
you both really shouldn't have fooled around with these aphrodisiacs. it's been hours and his cock's yet to come down. luis isn't even sure if he can cum anym—
wait. did he hear that right?
"what'd you say, mami?"
it's harder to hear you when you're bent over, and especially when you're mumbling and barely coherent. "the tip—jus' the tip," you whine. "is my bebé sensitive?" he drags a finger over your slit, and you squeak, body jerking in response. your knees almost gave out. "luiiis . . jus' the tip, p, por favor . . "
you poor thing. he affectionately runs a hand over your spine, down to your ass where he kneads your curvaceous flesh. "por supuesto, amor. we can go slow. and . . just the tip," [ of course, love. ] he thought he could do it. luis can control himself, can go slow if requested—usually—but the drug that ran through his veins made that fucking impossible. swallowing a nervous lump, he prods the tip against your slit. fuck, you're so fucking wet. this wasn't fair.
with a slow push of his hips, your warmth embraces his sensitive cocktip. "oh, fuck. oh my fucking god. dios mio," luis's grip on your ass tightens, his own way of restricting himself. "sólo quiero follarte," [ i just wanna fuck you, ] he confesses, but only thrusts the tip in and nothing else.
"me estás matando aquí, bebé," [ you're killin' me here, baby. ] luis babbled on, a shiver running down spine. "are you sure you're sensitive? y, you've been—you've been always able to take it," turns out, he didn't have it in him to fulfill your request. luis could hear the obscene squelches your creamy pussy made, and his brows narrowed as he winced, almost as if he was pained from your instruction. yet, his restrained thrusts—it was more like gentle rocking, to be honest—continued, the tip pulling out with an obscene pop with every withdrawal of his hips.
he enjoyed it, of course. more than anything. but luis was a greedy, hungry man. yearning more. needing more. your pussy was just so fucking inviting, creaming all over for him with just the tip—fuck, you can't ask this from him.
"bebé—y/n, i can't—can't take it anymore. i have to. t, tengo que follarte," [ i have to fuck you. ] your eyes widened when luis slowly slides in an experimental inch. you squeal, reaching behind you with one arm, but luis just pins it on your back.
the moment he's stuffing himself completely fucking full into you, you're just sobbing, legs shaking from the mind-numbing pleasure. luis was, too, not even realizing he had just cum in you. his hips moved like clockwork, "luis! luiissss—fuck!" was all you could cry out. you squirmed, writhed, tried to crawl away from the addicting pain of pleasure, but he's tugging you right back and slamming himself into you to the hilt.
all that cum pouring out of you made it much, much easier to pound that cunt. "h, haaah—fuck! luiiss—," you sobbed, unable to stop your legs from giving out. his chest rests warmly on your back, and you feel a loving kiss pressed on your temple.
"te amo, te amo . . . " he murmured as he pummeled that pussy, making sure that the tip thwacked against your perky cervix and hitting all the right spots. your head rests nicely on the pillow, and you're so fucked out, you think you're about to pass out from all the pleasure.
the bed creaks as luis kept ramming his cock deep into you, and you squeal as another orgasm washes over your body. the nth orgasm made your eyes cross, made you see fucking stars as your legs quivered and you clutched the sheets helplessly. luis didn't see it, but he sure as hell fucking felt it as you squirt all over him and his legs. "dios—dios mio, you're making a fu, fucking mess,"
his thrusts begin to slow down, hard-on still intact, but the aphrodisiac wasn’t as strong as it was from the beginning. blinking, luis realizes he was crushing you by resting his whole weight on you. "shit, shit—y/n, i'm sorry," he shuddered when he slips out of your creampied pussy. "mierda, hace frío," [ shit, it's cold. ] is whispered to himself whilst he gently lays you on your back.
"luiiis . . " you huffed. "that's not the tip," "i know, i know. i'm sorry. but, in my defense, eso es imposible," [ that's impossible to do. ] an affectionate hand caressed your hair. "still sensitive, prinsesa?" you groggily nuzzle your face in his arms.
you only hummed. the next minute is spent in silence, as luis kept you warm and held you firmly. "next time, no more aphrodisiacs," you stir as he spoke, letting out a scoff. "what? booooo."
"wha—excuse you, señorita, why are you booing me?"
"oh, c'mon. don't lie. that was fun,"
"jesus, you are such a freak. me asustas. you need to read the bible or something,"
"wow. like it wasn't you who bought those pills!"
"oh. ehehe. right."
ALBERT WESKER. ♡
bro this gif im going to start s/creaming
you're already fucked out. already trembling from the orgasms wesker's given you, and it's all thanks to the new toys he had bought from his trip. a clit sucker and a vibrating, ridged, girthy dildo. you sobbed as wesker kept thrusting the toy in and out of you, making sure you take all of its length.
"f, fuck—! s, sir, cumming—, 'm cumming,"
there wasn't much you could do, not when a silk ribbon tied your wrists and ankles to the headboard. ( he bought those, too, by the way. ) "again? look at the mess you just made." you look over at the silicone, the base was coated in your creaminess—and it was already smearing to his already-soaked fingertips.
it was so easy for him to break you, and he hasn't even undressed himself yet.
your hips buck against the air, and the unintentional reflex just makes you grind your clit against the toy that lavished its attention on you. "fuuck—! fuckfuckfuck—, a, albert—!" you clutched onto the ribbons, eyes rolling as you felt your cunt throb with need. you were close, you could feel it in the pits of your stomach. "what was that?"
wesker clicked his tongue, clearly displeased. "you call me sir, brat. or are these toys getting into that head of yours?" you hear a few clicks, and your eyes widened when you realized that the clit sucker's set to its highest setting. "s, sir—i'm sorry! i'm sorry!"
the dildo could never compare to your sir's cock—never—but the extra sensations of the pulsations and the ridges quickly sent you to the edge, never missing where you were most sensitive, always grazing that spongy nub that made your mouth fall agape. "don't w, wanna cum anymore—too much," you whimpered.
"aw," he cooed, a small smile appearing on his lips; barely noticeable. "that's really too bad, pup." he taunts, giving you a slow, but hard thrust. you squealed, clutching on to your ribbons.
"you're not in charge here,"
your cries are music to his ears, and his eyes gaze over to your squirting cunt in amusement. even though you're trembling and drooling, he's yet to withdraw the toys from you.
"are you?" "n, no, sir!" he's tight-lipped and has yet to move an inch. "n, no, sir! i'm n, not in chaaaarge—y, you are!" "hm," good enough. much to your relief, both are turned off, and you're granted a few seconds of relief.
your body relaxes on the soft bed, chest rising as you pant. “colour?” wesker asks, a rough palm caressing your shaking thighs. “g, green,” you mutter. “good. ‘m not done yet,”
wesker retires from the bed, taking his sweet time in undressing himself. it was quite the sight, though; seeing him undo his tie, unbuckle his pants. his boxers had a wet spot from his leaking tip. “you’ve been a good pup, darling.”
the bed sinks with his added weight, and you watch him leave kisses on your inner thighs, stroking his cock with a spare hand as he lathered his pre all over his monstrous girth. fuck . . could you take that? you don’t think y’have it in you. but you didn’t want to stop. y’wanted him . .
“s, sir,”
you call, and wesker’s eyes tilt up. now that he was much closer, y’could see how blown out his pupils were. “yes, my love?” he asked as he positions himself, grabbing ahold of your thighs as he slaps his fat cock atop your mons.
“c, can you put just the tip i, in—?”
wesker acts as if he didn’t hear a word you just said, rubbing his length all over your slit—continuing to lubricate his shaft with your juices. you gasped when the tip slowly sinks in, and you finally get your answer when he slammed the rest of his girth into you. you screamed, back arching as your eyes crossed.
“why should i?”
he begins to rut into you, pummeling your sensitive cunt with mean thrusts. “tell me, pet. why should i?” you couldn’t utter out a proper response, not when your brain was turning to fucking mush as he pounded you. “speak up, slut.” the added nickname’s making you clench around him, and wesker only scoffed at your lack of coherence.
“gone stupid? from me just putting—hnngg—it in?”
with the position he had you in, it was impossible for the tip to not kiss your cervix, impossible for you to not scream for him as he mercilessly plowed that cunt. "s, sir—h, haaah . . ! fuck—!" your overstimulated pussy's fucking throbbing. a squeal's torn from you as his palm collides with your puffy clit with a smack! the sting's makin' your eyes fucking water, and you could feel your legs tremble again.
"will you tell me what to do again, pet?"
"n, no, sir!"
wesker grinned, rewarding your sore clit with a kind caress of his thumb. "good pet. that's—," he groaned. fuuuck, wesker shudders at the feeling of your cunt spasming around his girth. "—more like it. gonna—gonna fuck you how i want to," his words are emphasized with harsh thrusts, to drill that idea in your pretty fucking head.
"where i want to,"
"u, uh-huh!"
"when i want to,"
"u-uhnnn—y, yes s, siiiir . . ♡ !"
seeing how disheveled and how much of a drooling mess you were, were you even remembering what he was saying? probably not. but don't worry, he's more than willing to remind you where you belonged. he could no longer hold back his noises, but he wasn't even interested in trying, anyway.
the way he sounded—feral, almost beast-like, even—you'd be lying if you said it didn't incite more arousal from you. wesker ensured you felt all of him, hips moving without thought as he mercilessly slammed into that tight fit. unfortunately for you, he was more monster than he was human.
you were fucking tightening up around him—still adjusting from the sudden switch from silicone to flesh—and how could wesker ever resist ramming and bullying that pussy with his fat cock? the way he could see how he split you open, shuddering when his tip's right against your cervix—oh, you were such a sweet, sweet pet.
his cock throbbed with the ache of a release. you made it difficult for him to control himself. "fuck—'m gonna fill you up," he hissed. "think y'deserve a creampie from me, sweet girl?" smack! the collision of his palm on your cunt brings you back to reality for a brief moment. "i'm—i'm talking to you," he snarled, an you nod mindlessly. "s, sorrryyyy . . . y, yes sir! yesyesyesyes—please!"
you continue to beg him, plead for his cum whilst he busied himself with rearranging your fucking insides. it's all you could do amidst your fucked out state. don't you worry. wesker was more than satisfied with your expressions.
burying himself to the hilt, you let out a scream as an orgasm is forced from you again, fingertips affectionately rubbing on your clit. wesker can't decide where to look—if he should watch that pussy quiver as you squirted or your face that's contorting as your irises disappear behind your lids.
"yeaaaaah, just like that. look at you—fuck, you're such a slut,"
his hips stutter as spurts of thick, warm semen floods your womb and walls. wesker groaned, shivers pricking his skin. your cunt milked him so good; and not like he'll tell you, but he's fucking obsessed. obsessed with how you're so obedient fo him, how your cunt clenched around him as you quivered from overstimulation.
"tsk, you're leaking. tighten up, slut. don't spill any more," you only oblige him—it's all you could do in your fucked-out state. a groan echoes in the room as he slowly slips out from you. from where wesker knelt, he had the perfect fucking view of your gaping cunt, trying her absolute best to keep it all in as he asked. you squeaked when he caresses your puffy clit affectionately. "shh, shh . . i know," he cooed, the other hand undoing your restraints. you didn't have the strength to keep your eyes open.
the tension slowly rolls off your muscles as he sets your legs down slowly. "you did well, my love," you could feel him bestow kisses on your face. eyes, nose, lips—they were all showered in loving kisses. your wrists are set free as he undid the ribbons on your sore wrists, his lips ghosting over the red marks over your skin, too. "missed you, albert," you mumbled, eyes slowly opening. "i missed you too, my love," there's a faint smile on his face—meant to be witnessed by you only.
"you know we're not yet done, right?"
JACK KRAUSER. ♡
krauser really has lots of pent-up frustration and sexual frustration. blessed with inhumane stamina, it's really no surprise that he can last multiple rounds. 'specially when all of it just piles up on him, mmmm—god, he loves nothing more than taking it out on you and using you for fucking hours.
but krauser is mean. cruel. you want just the tip? that's really—
"too fucking bad, baby,"
that request is fucking impossible, because he's got you folded and locked in a full nelson hold. did you expect that he'd just not bury himself deep in your pretty cunt? your eyes widened as you watched his cock slowly stretched you out again. your cunt was too sensitive.
his balls only throbbed, eyes rolling as your pleas fall to deafened ears. your groans echo in the room as he pushes another inch or two into you. fuck, you need to breathe—
krauser laughed breathily in your ear. "what was that?" you couldn't muster a single word—it was all just pathetic squeaks. "just the tip, you say?" he'd purr, pushing in as slow as he can so your pulsating walls can feel every single inch stretching you. ruining you.
"c, can't—,"
"can't what? can't speak?"
he completely slams into you with a loud plap! you're speechless and fucking stupefied—but, frankly, what else is there to say? "urgg—feel that?" this fucking asshole just had to start gyrating his hips. you could feel the tip poke 'nd prod against that cervix, and fuck, you're trembling.
"c'moooon, sweets. y'better be awake,"
sticky drool's drippin' from those pretty lips as he began to pound you like he hated you. him doing all the work was not a problem, not at all. krauser could easily manhandle you, and he made sure that you knew. he was bouncing you on his cock like you weighed nothing and fuck—you couldn't even think of anything to say aside from his name and ah's! and oh's!
it didn't help his cock was a mix of both veiny and fucking gargantuan—you're convinced your cervix's all bruised because his tip kept hitting 'nd hitting all of your spots. "love your cunt—fuck, you like this? huh? bet you do. look at your cunt's reflection. messy fucking slut," he groaned, ramming into you vigorously. it's like he hasn't even broken a sweat.
"k, krauseeeer—," you sobbed, absolutely broken and cockdrunk. "yeah? 'm here," he pants, eyes threatening to roll back. but he had to watch you in the mirror, had to watch you crumble and go fucking stupid just from his cock. "what does my baby want, h, huh? want me to go faster?" before you had the chance to respond, he's fucking pummeling into you faster than you could even blink; you're fucking dizzy and barely lucid, but that's okay. no need to think, krauser's got you. ♡
"'m c, cummingggggg—cumming. j, jaaaaack—♡!"
"my fucking goooood—fuuuuuuck . . look at this squirting cunt,"
clear liquid's spurtin' out of that stretched pussy, coating him and yourself as he forces an orgasm outta you. you're so fucking hot, fuck. krauser's never ever ever letting you go. "you love my cock, babe?" if it wasn't for how both his large hands held your head, you would have nodded. "u, uh-huh! love—l, love your cock—♡!" "attaaa girl. i love your cunt so, so fucking much—♡,"
krauser doesn't even realize he's drooling himself—completely immersed in the pleasure. he could stay buried in you for fucking eternity. "fuck—wanna breed you. lemme breed—lemme breed you. need to knock you up," he babbled on, focused on jus' chasing his release. and with the pace of how he fucked you—it wouldn't take long.
and you?
you're fucking spritzing all over him everytime his tip grazes against that spongy nub in your dripping pussy. why'd you even ask him to not put it all in? clearly, you loved this. but don't worry. for once, he'll humour you. "y'wanted just the tip, right?" "h, hnnngg—♡," good enough of an answer for him. you're brought back to reality briefly when his movements halt. confused, you only watched your obscene reflections whilst he shifted his hips. "j, jack, what're you—?!" your eyes widened when you feel his tip slowly bury into the tight barrier of flesh in your cervix.
krauser whimpered. fuuuuuuck, you were sucking him in so good. he can't even pull out. "baby—baby, oh god. fuck, fuck. i'm fucking—cumming. 'm cumming—oh my gooooood," it didn't take any more thrusts for him to start filling your womb up with fertile, sticky cum.
you whined as your cunt's flooded with his seed, and you couldn't do anythin' except for clawing on his built forearms as he held you in place. "urgg—yeah . . . just like that . . fuuuck, i love your pussy baby," you couldn't utter a word. you felt so fucking full. krauser finally releases your head, but still held your body close as he settles on the edge of the bed. you practically collapse on his muscular frame when he finally sits, and that's okay. ♡ krauser made sure he held you tight, wrapping large arms around your body and leaning into you so he could kiss your face.
"tongue out, babe. lemme . . "
you oblige mindlessly, sticking your pretty tongue out for him. krauser's scarred lips wrap around your wet muscle, groaning as he sucked on it. didn't take long 'til he was devouring your spit-stained mouth as you cockwarmed him.
"mmmm. ♡."
CHRIS REDFIELD. ♡
this gif is so? um.
chris usually loves to prep you. loves to spend his time devouring your pussy and having his lips wrapped around that sensitive clit.
but you've got work in an hour, and time isn't a luxury you both have. "chris, j, just the tip, okay?" you say, raisin' your hips as you bent over the dining table; weight propped up on your soft palms. of course you can't say no to him, especially when the outline of his erected cock on his grey boxers is all you've been seeing this morning. but you're just a girl. you have needs and wants.
"just the tip?"
chris asks, pressing his clothed chest against your back. you feel his stubble against your cheek as he pressed open-mouthed kisses on your skin. "i don't . . i don't think i can do it, princess," he whined as his hips push forward. you couldn't utter another word as the leaking head stretches your cunt out.
you shuddered, lips quivering as you clutched on to whatever surface you were bent over on. "y, you caaaan—a, aaah, fuck—you have to . . ” you whined. but chris was greedy. hungry.
he’s not sure where he gets the courage to pull out, but he does. the tip slides out from you with a lewd, almost muted, pop! and you’re both unsatisfied, left yearning with feeling the other completely; but it makes do. it has to. tonight, he can have you for as long as he wanted.
“y/n, p, please—,” he pleads, still fuckin’ you with just the tip. chris can feel just how wet you are, hear how that cunt squelched as bucked his hips. “n, nooo—chris, i’ll—i’ll be late,” “don’t go,” his canines graze your skin, and you squealed when he pushes an inch in. your cunt’s pulsating—trying to accommodate his fat cock without prep. “don’t go—y’don’t h, have to go. please stay,” “ch, chris, i—hnnn!” the rest is completely slammed into you, and your eyes cross. chris takes advantage of your agape mouth, kissing you and letting his tongue glissade over yours.
chris starts to pound that cunt, and muffled cries were swallowed by his lips. you can’t really lie, this felt waaaay better than just the tip. the way the tip bulges out from your lower tummy, the way the pink crown keeps kissing that sensitive cervix, it can’t compare. ever.
“mhhhf,” you groan against his lips, and chris playfully bites down on your lower brim. it was hard to take in air when every thrust into you knocked the air outta your lungs. chris parts from you as he held your hips with those big hands of his.
his pace quickens, ramming into you mercilessly. you're both whimpering, voices blending together in melodious sin; whatever thoughts you had before—gone. not when chris had the skill to turn your brain to mush. "goddd—fuck, y/n. y, y'feel so goooood . . " chris sobbed. if only you could see his face. brows scrunched as he struggled to keep his eyes open; only you could bring these facial expressions to this big, beefy man's face.
you squealed when a hand snakes under your skirt, fingertips rubbing against your neglected clit. "oh fuck!" you mewled, unable to keep your cries to a low. "feel good, princess?" chris purred whilst fucking you into oblivion. "u, uh-huh—♡!" fuuuuck, his balls are fucking throbbing.
"d, don't go . . jus' stay. be my pretty little wife. i can t, take care of you,"
he babbled on, rutting into you, stuffing you full with that veiny cock. chris wants nothing more than to fucking breed you, fill your womb with his cum. "'m g, gonna fucking cum," he pants, chest heaving. but he doesn't stop pummeling that cunt—goes faster, actually. chasing his release and eager to give you yours. the table's creaking, and everything on it shook with every thrust. upstairs neighbour behaviour.
you screamed when he lightly pinches that sensitive bud, and you're seeing stars; mouth agape and back completely arched as he coaxes an orgasm from you. your legs trembled, and chris bit on his lip. "fuuuuck, baby. you're so hot—love you, i love you," "chriiiis, fuckfuckfuckfuuuuck. love youuuuuu . . ♡,"
your lips crash together again, sloppily kissing each other as chris fucks you through your high. he grunts, wrapping his lips 'round your tongue, tasting you. with another slam of his hips, you moan against his mouth when he's completely buried deep in you; thick ropes of cum flooding your creamy, spasming cunt. he can't move any more, can't think anymore. he pulls away from you, because he's sure he'll forget how to breathe.
"oooooh, fuuuck—♡,"
spit's trickling down his stubbled chin, and chris is quiet for a moment; sent to cloud nine and completely fucked out. it takes a minute or two for him to recover, and he tilts your head to the side so he could briefly kiss you while he slid out of your cunt. you both groan, and chris kneads your ass, watching his cum slowly leak from your gaping pussy.
"heheh . . gonna call in sick?"
well, you couldn't feel your legs, so. yes.
CARLOS OLIVEIRA. ♡
carlos watched you writhe whilst you came undone from his tongue. your fingers were tugging on his already disheveled, raven tresses. it's your fifth orgasm—he thinks, if he's counting right; and he'd gladly give you more. his wet kisses trail up your tummy, chest, lips, and you liked how your taste lingered on his tongue.
"carlooos,"
"yes, meu bebê?"
carlos gets a realization tonight.
"want more. 'jus wanna feel you,"
he spoils you a little too much.
your cunt was still twitching with need. you'd do anything to satiate your hunger, anything to relieve that arousal pooling in your tummy. even though he's spent the last few minutes coaxing orgasm after orgasm from you.
but he loved seeing you like this. desperate. needy. like he was the only person you needed. you knew just how to get his gears going without trying. "hmm? but you just came, meu bebê. my beard's still wet," he teased, lips latching on your neck and tracing your skin with sharp canines. you held on to his built biceps, and carlos brings your knuckles to his lips. "j, jus' the tip. please. i want more," "i know, i know, bebê. shh . . "
he can never resist you. especially when you were begging him so prettily. didn't take long for him to prod his tip against your needy hole. you both gasp when the tip slowly sinks in, slowly stretches that wet pussy apart. your nails dig into his skin, and carlos bit his lip. "fuuuck, y/n. your pussy—," fucking warm 'nd tight. clenching on him like you needed him.
carlos didn't mind being bossed around by you, especially by you. he'd do anything you'd ask before you could even blink, but he just has to remind you who's in charge.
you gasped when he slowly sheathes an inch or two into your tight cunt. "carlos, w, what're you—?!" he makes sure to slide in nice and slow, so you'll feel every inch of him splitting him open. and also so he can savour that surprised look in your face.
especially when he harshly shoves the rest of his cock in your leaking pussy, god. you'll kill him. "y, you're so unfair, princesa. so cruel t'me," he cooed, not even giving you the time to process a thought as he began to pound you with ungodly stamina.
"you think i don't have needs too? think i don't need to fuck this cunt and to fuck you 'til you're cockdrunk and overstimulated?" nasty mouth, nastier thrusts. your eyes crossed, body jouncing with every slam forward of his hips.
"c, carlos—h,hnnngg!"
he grins. "yeaaaah, that's right, baby. scream my name." you were so sensitive already, flesh walls spasming around his veiny girth, but fuck, you were oozing so much milky essence, it smeared all over his balls. he leans in so your lips could crash together, and carlos grunts against your mouth as you instinctively wrap you legs around him. of course he had to pick up his pace. why wouldn't he? he was such a good boyfriend to you, paying attention to all your needs.
you whine when he parts from you, but he has to, or else he'd lose his balance. he needed to focus on fucking you, tire his pretty bebê out. he bites his lip when you run your palms all over his built chest and abdomen.
"fuckfuckfuck—carlos—♡!"
a hand wraps around your breast, kneading your tits and running his fingers over your erect nipple. whatever thought you had, he quickly fucked it out from that pretty mind of yours. whatever. not like you needed to think when he could do that for you. well, try.
"y/n—♡ godddd, minha linda garota," [ my pretty girl, ] he babbles on, absolutely hypnotized. god, what were you doing to him? carlos kept pummeling that cunt, bed creaking obnoxiously in the process but it seemed that neither of you cared.
more marks littered his skin, ranging from bites to scratches, and they were definitely going to be sore later, but that's okay, a little pain didn't hurt no one. spit trickles down on carlos's stubbled chin, and you lift yourself up a little jus' so you could lick it up.
"y/n—♡! f, fuck! você é tão porra de suja, m, merda!" [ you're so fucking filthy, shit! ] hooking his arms around your thighs and lifting it up to his shoulders, you squealed when he begins to fuck you faster. harder. sounds of skin slapping growing louder as he rammed you without mercy.
a spare thumb began to trace aimless circles on your clit, and you screamed as an orgasm was ripped from your poor oversensitive cunt. "c, carlos—♡! oh fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuuuuck!" you clutched onto the pillows, sheets, fucking anything. you sobbed, and carlos gently flicks his middle finger against that puffy clit—you squealed as you squirt in small fountains.
"you're sensitive, aren't you, bebê? eu te quebrei, princesa?" [ did i break you, princess? ]
and oh, the way you only responded in fucked out mewls, how fucking precious. now that you've coated his girth in your squirt, it was much easier for him to move in 'n out. you could hear jus' how wet he made you, how that soaking cunt squelched with every thrust. you were such a slut for your boyfriend, and rightfully so.
he stops being cocky when his orgasm nears, grunts turning into high-pitched whimpers as he fucked you into the mattress. carlos tried to keep his monstrous, merciless pace, but fuck, he was so close. the closer he was to filling your cunt up and flooding your walls, the sloppier his hips got, probably from fatigue.
but you were such an angel, his god-sent angel, movin' your hips as you tried to meet his thrusts halfway. carlos could cum at the fucking sight of you trying to fuck yourself against him.
"oh god—♡! oh god, fuck, fuuuuck. vou gozar. vou te engravidar. ai meu deus." [ gonna cum. 'm gonna get you pregnant, oh my god. ] carlos sobbed, and after a few more push of his hips, he's crying out as ribbons of thick cum filled that cunt.
he rides his high out with a few more mindless thrusts, combing a spare hand through his hair. he's in fucking heaven, jesus christ. it's you that brings him back to reality, rubbing his forearm and eventually interlacing your fingers with his.
"oh my god, baby. are you okay?" he caressed your face, and you tiredly smile at him. "never better," you kissed his palm, and carlos tucks away the stray hairs on your face. "you sure? you okay? does anything hurt?" "no, i'm fine. well, a little sore and sensitive, but it's okay. i like it," a grin tugged on his lips, and he shook his head. "you're such a freak, baby. it's okay, i love you," a kiss is pressed on your forehead, nose, and then lips.
you shuddered when he pulls out, and his cum slowly leaks from your used, gaping hole. "i love you . . " you mutter, scooting over to the side so carlos can have the space beside you. he sighs in relief when he finally lays down, absolutely spent. "c'mere," carlos sleepily grunts, pulling you to his arms. you took it upon yourself to cover both your bare, sweaty bodies with the blanket.
"did i tire you out yet?" "hmm . . no, not really," you jeered, and carlos chuckled. "well, i certainly tired myself out," you both laugh, and it didn't take long 'til you both dozed off.
end.
A/N: thank you so much for reading! more to cum. ;)
also, regarding carlos's fics, i will repair them soon and change his bilingual dialogue from spanish to portuguese. i'd like to apologize for mistaking him as hispanic!
꒰ 切島鋭児郎 ꒱ › kirishima is terrified of hurting you. mdni.
pro hero! kirishima x fem! reader. öral ⇢ m! receiving
eijirou kirishima is the perfect boyfriend in every conceivable way. he remembers your coffee order. he brings you back little trinkets from patrol routes that made him think of you. he ties your shoes for you because he doesn’t want you tripping over your laces. he guides you through crowds with his hand on the small of your back. he’s respectful, he’s kind, he’s your rock.
and he’s the perfect gentleman. he’ll kneel at the foot of your bed, broad shoulders nudging your thighs apart, ruby eyes dark with reverence that almost makes you feel shy. he’s meticulous, tracing every dip and curve of you with his tongue until you’re a writhing, whimpering mess, clawing at his spiky hair and the sheets.
he gets off on it, you know he does. he lets low groans out against your skin, his hips rut against your mattress, and he dons a blissed-out grin when he finally emerges, face glistening and eyes heavy-lidded with satisfaction. he loves it. he loves pleasing you.
but the second the tables turn, he pulls away from you so quickly it gives you whiplash. your lips will trail south, pressing soft open-mouthed kisses against his toned abs. your fingers will slip beneath the waistband of his boxers, intent on returning the favor he so eagerly bestows upon you. and without fail, he’ll stop you.
he’ll thread his fingers through yours, stopping their descent, and cup your chin, angling your face up towards his to capture your lips in a kiss that’s meant to distract you.
the first time you tried to sink to your knees in front of him, he’d looked absolutely horrified. his eyes went wide, his sharp teeth biting into his lower lip as he pulled you back up, stammering something about how you’re a goddess and he should be the one on his knees.
you’d laughed it off then, thinking it was just some ‘manly’ notion he had. but it kept happening. and after six months of frustrating one-sidedness, the novelty has worn off, replaced by gnawing insecurity.
you’ve endured months of him eating you out with fervor and gently redirecting your hands every time you try to touch him.
you’re starting to believe the worst. that he can’t get it up around you. that you don’t turn him on, that he finds you so unappealing that he’d rather focus solely on your pleasure than face the embarrassment of his own lack of it. the thought makes you sick to your stomach.
kirishima comes to your apartment tonight looking exhausted. he’s had a grueling twelve-hour shift that involved a building collapsing and too many civilians to carry to safety. he’d swung by his own agency just long enough to shower and change, and now he’s here, collapsing onto your sofa with a heavy sigh.
his hair is slightly damp, devoid of its usual sharp spikes and gravity-defying gel. it falls in soft, red waves around his shoulders, making him look softer, more vulnerable. he’s in a pair of grey sweatpants and a loose graphic t-shirt. all you want to do is curl up in his lap and never let him go.
“long day?” you murmur, settling beside him and running your fingers through his damp hair. he hums, leaning into your touch like a starved animal.
“the longest,” he sighs, turning his head to press a kiss into the divot of your palm. “i missed you.”
the words are a balm to your bruised ego. you shift, straddling his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck. “i missed you too, ei.”
you begin peppering soft kisses against his jawline, trailing down to the column of his throat. his skin is warm, and you can feel his pulse fluttering beneath your lips. he sighs, his hands come to rest on your hips, holding you close.
you rock against him. you want to feel him, want that reassurance that he does want you. you’re rewarded almost instantly. you can feel him growing hard beneath you, a thick pressure against your core that sends a jolt through you.
but then his huge hands tighten on your hips, stilling your movements. “slow down baby,”
you pull back, looking down at him. his eyes are squeezed shut, his jaw clenched. “what’s wrong?” you ask, sounding so much smaller than you’d like.
“mhh just give me a second,” he grits out, eyes still closed
something inside you snaps. you scramble off his lap, standing over him with a frown etched across your lips. “is there something wrong with me?” you ask, your voice shaking
his eyes fly open at your tone, wide with alarm. he sits up straight, holding his hands out in a placating gesture. “whoa, whoa, hey. it’s not you. it’s never been you.”
“then what is it, ei?” you hate how sad his name sounds coming out of your mouth, “because i’m starting to think you’re just not attracted to me.”
he’s on his feet in an instant, crossing the space between you. he looks so devastated “no. god, no, don’t ever think that. you’re the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen. i want you so much it hurts. that’s . . that’s the problem.”
you stare at him, completely lost. “that makes no sense.”
he runs a hand through his soft hair, pacing your small living room. he looks so, so conflicted. “it’s my quirk,” he finally says, his voice barely a whisper. he stops pacing and looks at you, his expression so vulnerable it makes your heart ache. “i’ve always been insecure about it, you know? but this is different. i’m scared of it. i’m scared of hurting you with it.”
you blink. “your quirk? ei, what are you talking about? you’re not going to hurt me.”
“i don’t know!” he bursts out, “i have this irrational fear, okay? i’m convinced that if you . . .touch me. .” the thought alone is enough to make his cheeks rosy, “. . i’ll lose control completely. my quirk will activate without me meaning for it to! and my dick will get really hard, like hardening quirk hard, and i’ll hurt you . . i’d never forgive myself.”
you stare at him, mouth agape. you’re trying to process his words, to wrap your head around the sheer absurdity of it. “you’re serious?” you finally manage to say.
“yeah,” he says, looking miserable. “i think i’ll enjoy it too much and end up hurting the person i love more than anything. and i can’t. i just can’t.”
you can’t help but laugh. it’s not funny, not really, but the relief you feel is so overwhelming it’s all you can do. he’s not rejecting you. he’s not unattracted to you. he’s just . . an idiot. a sweet, well-meaning idiot who loves you so much he’s terrified of his own body.
“oh, ei,” you sigh, stepping forward and wrapping your arms around his waist. you press your face against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. “you’re so silly.”
he stiffens, but then his arms come around you, holding you tight. “so you’re not . . mad?”
“i’m not mad,” you say, pulling back to look up at him. “i’m going to prove you wrong.”
he looks wary. “or you’ll prove me right”
“we’re going to start small,” you say, a slow smile spreading across your face. “i’ll only suck your tip. that way, at most, i’ll get a little cut on my lip.”
he hesitates, his ruby eyes searching yours. you can see the conflict within him: his desire versus his fear. he’s so pent up from hero work, from months of denying himself. and you’re looking at him with so much trust, so much love. the thought of your lips wrapped around him, your eyes watering as you look up at him . . . it’s too tempting. it’s a fantasy he’s had for months, one he’s ruthlessly suppressed.
“okay,” he breathes. “okay. but if i start hurting you please stop. immediately.”
“deal,” you agree, taking his hand and leading him towards your bedroom.
he sits on the edge of your bed, looking like he’s about to face a villain and not a blowjob. you kneel in front of him, hooking your fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants, and he tenses, but he doesn’t stop you. you pull them down, along with his boxers, and his cock springs free.
he’s huge. impressively big. it’s your first time seeing all of him, and you can’t help but stare. he’s thick and long, with a prominent vein running up the underside. the tip is flushed a deep, angry red, already beading with precum.
you reach out and wrap your hand around his base, and he stiffens, a sharp hiss escaping his teeth. but he doesn’t push you away. you take your sweet time, leaning in to press soft, wet kisses against his length, starting at the base and working your way up. his hips buck and a soft whimper escapes his lips.
he’s so sensitive. you’ve barely touched him and he’s already falling apart.
you reach his tip, and you can’t resist. you stick out your tongue and swirl it around the head, lapping up the salty precum. he nearly cums on the spot. his whole body jerks, and he lets out a strangled moan, his hands fisting in the duvet beneath him.
“fuuuck,” he gasps, his voice ragged. “oh, fuck.”
you smile, then take his leaking tip between your lips. you suck roughly, taking him even deeper so his tip bumps against the roof of your mouth. it feels so good, the weight of him on your tongue, the sounds he’s making. he’s petrified, you can feel it in the taut line of his muscles
“careful, baby,” he murmurs, “oh, god, careful. mghh, feels so good.”
you ignore his warning. you take him into your mouth inch by inch, bobbing your head. it’s all so lewd, so intimate. the wet sounds of your mouth on him, the way his breath hitches, he’s so close, you can feel it in the way his thighs are trembling. in the desperate sounds he’s making.
“i’m . . i’m gonna cum,” he warns, his voice breaking. “baby, i’m gonna cum. you should hah pull back. .”
he expects you to listen, to pull your lips off and let him finish himself off. it’ll be safer that way. but you have no intention of stopping. you want to taste him, to swallow him down, to prove to him once and for all that he’s incapable of hurting you.
you keep sucking, keep bobbing your head, taking him deeper and with a loud, broken cry, he cums. his whole body stiffens and he spurts hot, thick ropes of cum into your mouth. it’s so much. you swallow it down greedily, your eyes never leaving his.
he’s panting, chest heaving, when you finally pull off with a soft pop. he’s so sure he’s somehow cut open your tongue, shattered your teeth, done some irreparable damage.
you smile and stick out your tongue, showing him that you’re perfectly fine.“see?” you say, your voice a little smug. “i told you it’d be fine.”
he pulls you up into his arms, crushing you to his chest. “i love you” he murmurs into your hair, voice thick with emotion. “so much”
you just grin, already thinking of ways to get him to let his guard down even more. you have a feeling it won’t take too much convincing
sukuna as "was it casual when...?" scenarios based off of moments w my friends/situationships
rating his cologne!!
"hey yn, do i smell weird?"
"do you want me to be honest or supportive?" you ask, not bothering to look up from your laptop.
"i want you to be serious," sukuna says as he rolls his eyes.
the two of you were in a study room since sukuna wanted to hangout but you told him you had to work on a project for your class. he simply booked a study room for the two of you and told you to meet him there. and now, here you were trying to work on your project as sukuna distracts you. he pulls you closer to him by tugging on the arm rest of the rolling chair. you were now knee to knee with him as you faced each other, he didn't move his knee and neither did you.
"okay fine. yes, you smell weird," you answer, hoping the subtle heat you felt in your cheeks wasn't obvious.
sukuna deadpans. "you haven't even smelled it yet." he then holds up the inside of his wrist to you; you look between him and his wrist before you sigh. you take his wrist in one hand and bring it closer to your face, taking in the cologne. you don't see how sukuna's jaw subtley and he hopes you don't feel his rapid heart ratee on the tips of your fingers.
you pull away and drop his wrist, he immediately misses your touch. "mm it's a little strong but it's not bad, 8.3 out of 10."
"that's oddly specific," sukuna says.
"you asked me to rate it, don't complain now."
this goes on for a few more days. whenever the two of you would see each other in class or when you hung out, he would ask you if his cologne smelled odd. you didn't bat an eye at it, thinking it was normal. afterall, you would also want someone to be honest with you if your perfume smelled odd. he told you he splurged on some cologne and wanted to find one that suited him, so you decided to help by providing your input. eventually, when sukuna stopped asking you didn't bother asking him why; you simply assumed you had finished rating his collection. but one day when you were sitting rather close to him, you caught a whiff of a familiar cologne you rated a couple days ago.
"hey, which one are you wearing today?" you ask.
sukuna shrugs, "it's the one you rated 9.9."
you raise a brow, while you did really like this one, sukuna had told you he wasn't the biggest fan of the undertones. "you also said you didn't like that one though."
"yeah but you liked it— said it suited me, so i took your word for it."
sending you pictures everytime he sees your favorite animal!!
you were scrolling on tiktok when you see a notification from him pop up on the top of your phone that says he sent you a picture. you click open it to see a picture of a plushie of your favorite animal.
ryomen
image attached
yn
awee cute! you gonna buy it or something ahaha
ryomen
nah. just reminded me of you
yn
??
ryomen
you said it was your fav?
this was the first time it happened but certaintly not the last. whenever he was out or traveling, he would send you a picture of your favorite animal. whether it was a plushie in the mall or if it was at the zoo whenever he took his nephews. he would send a picture, no message attached, and just say that it reminded him of you. when you bring up why he does it one day, he looks away as if he was embarassed.
"i hope it's not annoying or anything, just thought you would like it."
you shake your head and grin, "oh no, it's not annoying at all, ryo. it's actually kind of cute. kinda sounds like you like me or something." you say it as a joke, not really meaning it especially since you couldn't see sukuna liking you in that way. you laugh at yourself and don't notice the sort of longing look in his eyes.
he only flicks your forehead and says, "don't think about it too much."
bringing your essentials to a sad movie!!
you should've known better than to watch sheep detectives. just barely half way through the movie and you were already crying. you try to keep your sniffling to a minimum, especially since you didn't want to get any on the jacket sukuna lended you. then, you feel something land in your lap. you look down to find a small pack of tissues, you look to your side to see sukuna still watching the movie. he feels your gaze on him and he looks at you with a smirk. he then mouths the words 'crybaby' before going back to watch the movie. if there weren't other people in that theater, you would've thrown the tissues right back at his face.
by the time the movie is over, you already know you have tear stains all over your makeup. you walk out of the theater arm linked with sukuna as you blow your nose. "no way you have me crying over sheep."
sukuna laughs, "wasn't it your idea to watch the movie?"
"shut it," you say, taking your arm away from him and reaching into your purse to pull out your phone. just as you thought, your makeup is already messed up and you forgot to bring your mini pouch for your things. "damn i knew we should've gone to the movies last."
"why?"
"my makeup is all ruined and we still haven't gotten food yet."
"don't cry too much, you're makeup will mess up even more," he scolds. "c'mon, i have some of your stuff in my car." imagine your surprise when you get back to sukuna's car and see that the passenger glove compartment is filled with makeup. mainly minis but all your favorite brands and all your shade.
"what is this? you an aspiring drag queen or something?" you joke.
"ha ha, surprised you still have jokes in you after bawling your eyes out." now that the two of you were alone in the car, you don't hold back and throw the pack of tissues in his face. he only laughs even more, picking up the pack of tissues and tossing it in the center console where you see more mini tissue packs.
"you haven't answered my question, ryo," you say. "why do you have this stuff?"
sukuna looks at you as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. he fiddles with his aux as he answers you, "last time we went to watch a sad move and you cried your makeup off, you cried some more because you couldn't fix it. so hurry up and do whatever shit you have to do."
when you pull the mirror down, you see he installed a bigger car mirror visor. it even lights up to mimic the vanity mirror you have at home. you decide not to make a comment on it since you could tell he was a little embarassed, especially with how he changed topics so quickly and started talking about the movie.
"you're probably a winter sheep, crybaby."
"weren't you paying attention? a winter sheep is the best kind of sheep, jackass."
divider creds to @/saradika-graphics !!
a/n : writing slump who?? three back to back fics lez go!! looking back on it, these moments do still feel casual to me but idk („• ֊ •„) my friends seemed very adamant that these were NOT casual LOL
