try as he might, nerdjo never could have guessed that he had a pain, or worse, humiliation kink.
he knew he was a pathetic simp for you—that was just a gross fact, like the way his words would stumble whenever you pressed the feeblest kiss on his cheek. but he hadn't walked into this hoping to get off on you hating his guts. that was too sick, even for him.
it was a complete tragedy when it first happened. you were screaming your head off over his constant postponement of your shared group work, and your hand just swung out, smacking his cheek. it wasn't even a hard hit, but the shock of your rage confused his sensations.
his vision swam, and an instant heat burned his face alongside an odd twinge. he readjusted his askew glasses with a defiant hand, trying to scoff and mutter something about you being "unreasonably dramatic and prissy" when he felt that ugly, sudden pressure straining his jeans.
when you eventually realized, you went stone still, eyes dropping straight down. “satoru, are you..?”
he just shriveled up, trying to wiggle away, shifting his hips sideways to hide the evidence. "w-why are you looking there? it's a perfectly normal response for a guy!"
meanwhile, he was praying silently to an almighty power, begging for you to just look away. but by every contrast, you did the cruelest thing you could think of. you pressed your thigh against his groin, grinding firmly. a tiny "oof" escaped satoru's lips, his hips giving a needy twitch.
“you’re hard?” your words felt like a court's final sentencing order that scared the living shit out of him. “you seriously get off on this?”
the horror washed over his pale face, suffocating him severely, but even then, he tried to push your shoulder back with a weak laugh. "get off on you? please, as if your awful temper could ever—ah!" he cut himself off as you rubbed yourself on a particularly sensetive area, his eyes flaring up wide. the most disgusting part of his messed-up self was exposed bright-lit under your rage. his whole face was red with embarrassment.
and yet, he got impossibly harder against your leg, a fat lenght twitching in his jeans.
your hand shot down, crushing the denim with all your strength. all your anger, all your nasty frustration went into that squeeze on his cock. why couldn't he just shut his big mouth and agree that he was a smug asshole?
meanwhile, an erotic moan tore out of satoru's throat, the kind you'd stumble across on some cheap, exaggerated porn. his whole body arched, hips bucking into your merciless hand. "a-ah! let go—" he gasped out, his muscly body moving against his own voluntarily decision, pleading for more of this sweet torture. "it's—it's not about you! i already told you that!"
he was really quivering now, sweat dampening his hairline and down his forehead while his hips kept stuttering against your fist.
“a few slaps and you just get a hard-on?” you spat, not easing up the grip for a second. "you really are a freak, still denying it while your dick’s telling on you. disgusting.”
satoru hissed out a breathy whimper, azure eyes squeezed shut behind his overly expensive frames. his body slammed back against the wall, an intense rapture rushing through his entire body. a dark, wet patch bloomed fast through the fabric, right under your palm, moistening your fingers. a reedy whine escaped him as he came into his pants, his legs buckling before he slumped against the wall, completely spent.
best believe, you made a point of hitting him more frequently from then on.
Not sure if you've written for Iwaizumi yet, but all the fics I see have him as the dominant one and I can't help but want to big spoon that man. Like what if he's totally whipped for the reader? What if he just needs to be taken care of? All that's to say can I request an Iwaizumi fic where he's the one being taken care of for once? You can do whatever you want with this request since it wasn't overly specific!
A/N: Okay, so I originally planned to write just a short drabble about this, but my fingers got ahead of my brain and now it’s turned into a whole fic. I promise I’ll write a thirst piece later that focuses entirely on spoiling him. I hope you enjoy this!
CW: iwa has feels but no established relationship, sub iwa, gn!dom! reader, college au, cuddling, praise, lots of it, hand job, crying, and a bit of edging
WC: 3.8K
Iwaizumi always took pride in his assertive, no-nonsense attitude. It sometimes made him come off harsher than he intended. Yet, here’s the thing: his usual sharp words seemed to evaporate in your presence. You were just so warm and comforting. He couldn’t help but feel a lump in his throat when you smiled at him or placed your hands on his hips to slide past him. He was supposed to be the one doing that to you, damn it!
He decided he had to avoid you. It was the only way to stop these confusing feelings from intensifying. It had become worse lately; just last night, he had a vivid dream about sucking your breasts as you praised him.
Iwaizumi's eyes involuntarily squeezed shut, as he tried to suppress the embarrassing memories that flooded his mind. But before he could regain his composure, your voice pierced through the haze, "You alright, Hajime? Here, take this." He snapped his eyes open, catching sight of you sitting across from him, munching on a protein bar and offering him one. The sight of you, so calm and collected, only made him feel more flustered. His cheeks grew hot as he struggled to maintain his usual stoic demeanor.
“O-oh, uh, thanks. Just a little tired, that’s all,” he mumbled, trying to downplay his awkwardness. He took the protein bar, his hands fumbling with the wrapper as he attempted to appear nonchalant. Inside, he was mortified. Why did you have to approach him now, of all times? He felt like such an idiot. Seeing him all alone like that would surely draw your attention to him.
“Stay up too late partying? Let me guess, Toru has a hangover and skipped,” you mused aloud with a small eye roll at the setter’s dramatics, taking another bite of your snack.
Hajime smiled, a small chuckle escaping his lips. “I told that dumbass he shouldn’t be taking so many shots, but he doesn’t listen when he’s drunk,” he said, his tone laced with a mix of amusement and exasperation as he tried to maintain a composed demeanor.
Hajime's face fell as you let out a giggle at his remark, his embarrassment evident as his face flushed. "When does he listen to you, though?" you teased, a playful smile spreading across your lips.
Hajime's hand rose to his hair, his fingers raking through the strands in a nervous gesture. "Sometimes I feel like all I do is yell at him," he said, his voice laced with frustration as he reflected on his tumultuous history with Oikawa.
You couldn't help but indulge in a sympathetic coo at his confession. "Sounds like you need a break, huh?" you suggested, your tone gentle and understanding. Hajime's eyes widened as he drew in a sharp breath, trying to stop the blood now rushing to his lower regions.
“W-what do you mean?” Hajime asked, his voice low and husky, his words barely above a whisper. You bit back a smile, trying to maintain a neutral expression as you gazed at him. His attempts to hide his emotions were laughable, his face a picture of confusion and embarrassment. You could read all the emotions he was feeling right now, and it made you lick your lips.
"Aren't you tired of always being the one in charge?" you asked, your voice soft and enticing. "I bet it would be nice to be pampered, hmm?" You spoke the words slowly, letting them hang in the air as you subtly shifted your position to brush your foot against his leg. The gentle touch sent a shiver through his body, and he couldn't help but feel a flutter in his chest as your ankle teased against his own.
"I-I mean, yeah. It would be nice, considering exams are approaching," Hajime replied, his tone cautious as he struggled to decipher the intentions behind your words. He wasn't sure if you were genuinely trying to be helpful, or if you were just being playful or even flirtatious. As a result, he decided to err on the side of caution and keep his response neutral, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to read between the lines.
"What are you doing for the rest of the day?" you asked, your question innocuous enough, but your foot's subtle withdrawal from his leg sent a pang of disappointment through him.
"Well, my afternoon class got canceled since my professor is sick, so I don't have much to do," His voice trembled slightly as he asked the follow-up question, "W-why do you ask?" but he made a conscious effort to hide his emotions, not wanting to reveal the flutter in his chest that had accompanied his words.
"Hmmm, I don't have any more classes either," you said, a thought suddenly occurring to you as you looked at him. "Why don't you come back to my apartment? I don't think I've ever shown it to you," you suggested, a sense of surprise and awareness washing over you as you realized the truth - you'd never actually invited him over before.
"Wha—?" He cleared his throat before speaking again. "Sure," he said, adopting a polite tone to mask his surprise. "What time would be best for you?" he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to gauge your intentions.
"Right now, silly!" you exclaimed, standing up and tugging him along by the hand. He let out a surprised gasp as he had no choice but to follow you, his eyes fixed on your retreating back.
"Don't worry, I'm only a five-minute walk from here," you teased, leading him out of the campus. You finally released his wrist, and he fell into step beside you, his pace relaxed.
A small chuckle escaped his lips as he gazed at you. "I wasn't worried," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"Oh yeah. You probably run long distances for cardio conditioning, right?" you chattered as you two turned a corner on the sidewalk. "I hate running; I couldn't imagine," you added.
"It's not that bad, for me anyway," he replied carefully. Normally, he would have scoffed at someone who complained about a particular exercise, but with you, he found himself strangely indifferent. In fact, your aversion to running had suddenly made him less enthusiastic about it himself.
"Really?" you pondered. "I like mountain biking more; the views are so pretty," you said, your eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.
The conversation flowed effortlessly between you two as you strolled through the bustling streets, the sounds of the city serving as a pleasant background hum. Before long, you led him to your apartment, and you began to prepare a soothing cup of tea. He sat nervously on the mat in front of the table, his eyes fixed on the surface as he awaited his next move.
The soft melody of your humming drifted from the kitchen, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. He got up from his seat on the mat, his movements slow and deliberate, and made his way into the kitchen, where he found you busy preparing tea.
"You need any help with that?" he asked, standing in the doorway, his tall frame looming over you as you stood at the counter, his eyes meeting yours as you looked up.
You flashed him a warm smile, one that seemed to stir something deep within him. To his surprise, his legs felt like jelly, and he felt himself shrinking under the gentle warmth of your gaze. "Don't worry your pretty little head, I'm almost done anyway," you said, trying to play it off as a joke. A silly way to let him know you didn’t require his help. But as you looked up at him, you noticed his face had turned a bright, burning red.
He felt his face grow hotter by the second, his mind clouding over with a strange, fuzzy sensation. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, and he felt so helpless. He had no idea why he was suddenly so overwhelmed, but the feeling was suffocating him.
“Oh-hajime, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”you said, concern etched on your face. You thought he was upset, maybe he had an insecurity you didn’t know about. But as you set the pot down and approached him, he surprised you by wrapping his arms around you.
The hug was sudden, and it caught you off guard. "You don't know what you're doing to me," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. The words were meant to be strong and confident, but they emerged as a soft, anguished whisper.
Your hands instinctively settled onto his hips, and you paused for a moment to gather your thoughts before speaking. "You're right, I don't think I do," you said, a hint of curiosity in your tone. "Do you want to show me?" The words were barely out of your mouth when he began to whimper in your ear, his voice trembling with emotion.
"Please, can we go somewhere... more... more..." he trailed off, his words dissolving into a vulnerable silence. You could sense his raw emotion, and it seemed like he was searching for a way to express himself.
“My bedroom is right down here, sweetie,” you guided him towards your bedroom, leading him by the hand down the hallway. He clung to your hand nervously, his eyes fixed on the door ahead.
"Can I ask what's going on?" you asked, settling in beside him on the bed as he shifted his weight onto your lap. His larger frame was now enveloping you, his larger body practically in your lap.
"I-I don't know," he stammered, his voice trembling as he struggled to articulate his emotions. "It's just your voice is so... warm, and it makes my head spin," he admitted, his words faltering as he relived the intensity of the moment.
You chuckled softly, your eyes sparkling with amusement. "Sounds like you like being spoiled," you teased, leaning in closer to him. As you did, his nose was met with the sweet scent of your perfume, and his gaze was drawn to the plump, inviting curves of your lips. He couldn't help but feel a flutter in his chest as he wondered what it would be like to taste them.
"Would you like to cuddle for a bit?" you asked, he nodded without hesitation and he instinctively nestled into the curve of your neck, his body sprawling across yours. Your head sank into the soft pillows as he settled in, his hands awkwardly adjusting the blanket.
“You comfy?” your voice was muffled by his hair, but he felt the gentle touch of your fingers tracing the contours of his back. He shivered in response, his voice barely audible as he murmured a grateful "yes, thank you" into your neck.
Your fingers wandered through the silky strands of his hair, tantalizingly teasing them with a gentle pull every now and then, just to coax out a plaintive whimper from his lips.
Before you knew it, you became aware of a subtle, yet unmistakable, presence against your leg. It was warm, hard, and throbbing with an unmistakable rhythm. Your heart skipped a beat as you realized that Hajime was now subtly moving his hips against your thigh, his body seemingly trying to find its own rhythm.
“Hajime?" you whispered, easing yourself up slightly on the pillow. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, and you were struck by the vivid flush spreading across his cheeks and the sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead.
"Are you turned on right now?" you asked, your voice low and husky, as your hand wandered down to his hips, grazing the sensitive skin. Hajime's eyes widened in surprise, his pupils dilating as he struggled to process the sudden intimacy. He couldn't meet your gaze, his face flushing with embarrassment as he stuttered out an apology.
"Y-you're just so... so pretty," he stammered, his words faltering as he attempted to put distance between you. He edged away, his body language screaming discomfort and embarrassment, as he tried to regain his composure.
You couldn't help but coo as you took in his flustered state. “Let me take care of you.” You purred gently, making him melt.
With a gentle yet firm grip, you guided him closer, until he was seated between your thighs, his back pressed against your chest.
“Relax” you commanded at his tense frame.
“Right-sorry.” He nodded, doing his best to stop his thighs from flexing when you touched him.
Your fingers danced across his lower abdomen, their slow and deliberate movements sending shivers of anticipation down his spine. As your palms brushed against his skin, his hips instinctively lifted, his body responding to the subtle touch with a primal urge.
"So sensitive," you whispered huskily into his ear, your hot breath sending a thrill through his body. Your fingers drifted down, delicately tracing the outline of his cock still confined by his pants, and he felt his pulse quicken in response.
“'m sorry," he whispered, his voice laced with desperation, as he reached out to grasp your thigh, his fingers digging into your skin as if trying to anchor himself against the impending storm.
"Don't be pretty boy, it's adorable, you're adorable." The words were a gentle taunt, making him let out a pitiful whine. You took advantage of his vulnerability, reaching out to gently grasp his chin and turn his face towards you. His eyes met yours, filled with a mixture of pleading and shame, as he struggled to process the softness of your words.
His eyes welled up with tears as he gazed at you, his breathing quickening as a sudden gasp escaped his lips. Your hand, like a gentle thief, slid around his waistband, pulling down the fabric that had been hiding his most intimate secrets from your gaze. The soft fabric slid down, revealing the red puffy cock to you. A lewd slapping sound was heard as his member sprang forth landing on his abdomen, vulnerable and exposed.
He pinched his eyes shut, his eyelids trembling as he desperately tried to block out the reality of the situation. He couldn't believe you were asking him to make eye contact with you as you performed that intimate and revealing act.
He became suddenly aware of a refreshing sensation trickling down his length. He looked to see you expertly applying a lubricant from a bottle, its smooth glide easing onto his twitching shaft. You whispered softly, "This will help," and he nodded in assent, his voice barely above a whisper as he murmured, "It's cold."
You softly cooed, taking a moment to slowly spread the lubricant along his red, swollen cock. His head arched back in a sensual moan as your fingers delicately brushed against his tip, sending shivers through his body.
"I-I think I'm going to come." he slurred, his hooded eyes straining against the pressure of your closed palm. However, the warmth was short-lived as you suddenly pulled your hand away from him, leaving him feeling momentarily deprived and frustrated.
Instead, he was left gasping for air, his cock angrily twitching in frustration. "I can't have you coming too soon," you said, your tone matter-of-fact. "Where's the fun in that?" Your hand returned to his cock, and he sat there, unable to muster a response, his head nodding dumbly in agreement.
You resumed your gentle strokes, and he let out a low groan as he buried his face into your neck. As your hand moved faster, his voice rose to a higher pitch, his pleasure growing more intense. His thighs began to tremble beneath your touch, and despite his efforts to resist, they involuntarily closed in on themselves, betraying his mounting arousal.
You let out a soft sigh, pausing your movements to gently coax his thighs apart once more. "Keep this up and I'll have to invest in a spreader bar," you teased, shaking your head in amusement. With a gentle smile, you resumed your task, your hand moving once more.
“I’m sorry, don’t mean too.” he muttered, his voice laced with a hint of embarrassment. But the truth was, he secretly preferred the brief interruptions when you had to pause to re-spread his legs. The momentary respite gave him a chance to catch his breath and regain control. And if he wasn't careful, he risked losing himself entirely, on the cusp of a climax that threatened to overwhelm him.
His abs rippled and flexed as he writhed in your grasp, his body responding to your thumb teasing his tip that seemed to be endlessly leaking with pre cum. The sensation was too much to bear, and he let out a horse cry, his body instinctively jerking and clutching at your wrist as if seeking release from the mounting pleasure.
“fuck-fuck… fUCk. I can’t keep d-doing th-this.” he cursed under his breath. Your own body responded to his reactions, your stomach fluttering with anticipation as you watched him. The way his chest heaved with ragged breaths and the sounds he made sent shivers down your spine, leaving you aching with desire.
"I'm here to help you relax baby. You can come." you whispered softly, your voice gentle and reassuring. Your hands moved in a smooth, steady rhythm, as if guided by an unseen force. Your fingers danced across his skin, exploring every contour and curve. You couldn't resist the urge to experiment, and your fingertips grazed against the sensitive skin of his nipple, still hidden beneath his sweaty shirt.
As he let go, a torrent of white liquid burst forth from his head, splattering his shirt and leaving a visible mark. The cry that escaped his lips was a raw, high-pitched sound, filled with a mix of relief and release. The pent-up emotion seemed to pour out of him, like a dam breaking, as hot tears burned down his cheeks.
“Such a good boy, I didn’t think you would listen so well.” you praised, slowing your strokes. All he could manage was to slur his thanks and catch his breath wearily. It was endearing how overwhelmed he was from a mere handjob. You were going to enjoy having to taking care of him from now on.
. ݁⋆ ۶ৎ ݁˖ . ݁ 18+ | dry humping with nerdjo when you’re ovulating
you had pushed him back on his dorm bed, unable to help yourself when he was going on about something that happened during one of his classes. how he corrected the professor who tried to save their own pride by arguing with your self-assured boyfriend.
your thighs were squeezing together while he told you about it, a cute pout on his lips because he knew he was right. and you could barely catch the whole story because you were busy staring at his lips. at his jaw that you were tempted to take out a protractor and see just how sharp it was. at his arms bulging in his hoodie when he folded them over his chest.
you couldn’t handle it. your panties were becoming soaked.
you didn’t bother taking off either of your clothes, flipping your skirt up and straddling him to grind against him.
“b-baby-- fuck…” he whimpers, hands clutching your waist as you rut desperately against the bulge in his jeans, the fabric quickly becoming darker from a combination of his pre and your arousal. “what’s hah gotten into you?”
“i love you,” you whisper, leaning down, breath mingling with his. “i love hearing you speak. everything about you. mm, fuck… you make me so wet.”
he has to bite back a moan in response to your words. he stutters out something along the lines of an “i love you” back. then, he remembers the little note in his calendar that he put, keeping track of your cycle.
oh.
his glasses are foggy and skewed on his face, but he’s staring up at you with glassy eyes, a starry gaze of love and awe in them. he’s panting softly, mouth parted. you take his chin between your fingers, urging him to open his mouth further and you spit right onto his tongue.
he whines. loudly. his hips bucking up violently into yours, his clothed bulge catching on your clit just right. his hold tightens on your hips and he can’t help the frantic humping as he holds you down firmly on his lap. he ruts and ruts, like he’s the one in heat. already looking completely ruined.
“fuck, fuck. oh, fuck, you’re so hot. i need to… can i fuck you, please, baby?”
you slow down your hips, gyrating them in lecherous circles and figure 8’s, head tipping back as you moan so sweetly into the sultry air. your panties are a sticky mess at this point, sticking to you like a second skin, see-through and filthy.
“can’t, ‘toru. we don’t have condoms right now. plus this feels sooo good.”
“i’ll pull out, i promise,” he insists, breathy and needy. he can feel you soaking him through the layers of fabric, your heat making him twitch within the confines of his jeans. he aches to feel your cloying warmth wrapped around him instead. “jus’… hah need you so bad.”
“you can never pull out. you’re so weak when it comes to me,” you whisper again, and he groans, head lolling back on his pillow.
he knows you’re right, but god, does he need you.
you start to hump him faster again, the slick puddle between the two of you easing the glide of your hips. you grind against him like you’re riding him, completely taking control and making him dizzy. he feels like he’s going insane. and each time his cock drags against you just right, your thighs tremble on each side of his lap, only making you gush again, continuously leaking.
“love this so much, ‘toru,” you mewl, planting your palms on his chest so that you can grind against him faster and harder. a shiver runs through you, a shock of pleasure pulling your eyes back into your skull. “you feel so good like this.”
that hot little pool of pleasure in your lower abdomen growing hotter and spreading through you.
he’s whimpering out your name like a sacred prayer, sweat rolling down his neck as he tries to suppress the urge to fuck you. tries and fails pathetically. all he can think about is the way your sweet walls massage his cock, dripping all over him and sending him to heaven early.
“‘m gonna die like this. not being able to fuck you.”
“you’re so cute when you’re needy,” you giggle, leaning back down and kissing him. it’s a hungry kiss, like both of you are starving for each other, teeth clashing, moaning hotly into each other’s mouths.
one of his hands trail up from your hip to the back of your head, tangling in your hair and keeping you in place to kiss you like it might be the last time he ever will. his tongue slides against yours before you capture it between your lips and suck gently.
you feel his fingers twitch on your hip and in your hair, a muffled moan resounding through him and his eyes roll back. his body trembles beneath yours, grasp tightening on your hip before it slowly relaxes again. you feel warmth quickly seeping through your panties, something hot that isn’t your own slick.
pulling back from the heated kiss, you look down at him, seeing the flush deepening on his cheeks and the hazy look in his baby blue eyes. he’s gently rutting into you, dick pulsing with each grind.
“did you just cum?” you ask, awe and a deeper desire taking over the look in your eyes.
he drapes his arm over his eyes, catching his breath. “maybe. a tiny bit.”
you giggle again, looking down at the dark patch on his jeans that got bigger. “a little bit, huh?” you continue to rub yourself against him, and it doesn’t take long for his cock to twitch back to life. “think you can go again? i don’t think i can stop.”
he slumps back, but still eager to please you. “you really are gonna kill me.”
Sub top boyfriend who can't handle it when you ride him. . .
You don't even give him time to adjust to the tight heat; you just start moving immediately, panting from the burning sensation at the start that quickly transforms into raw pleasure, sweaty bodies pressed together until it's impossible to tell where you begin and he ends. He's so fucked up beneath you that you can feel his cock uselessly leaking milky precum inside you, and to make it worse for him, you start whispering filth in his ear to hear him whine. Moving your hips back and forth until your thighs burn, his hands have your waist in a bruising grip, trying to slow you down because you're driving him crazy, but it only has the opposite effect.
He complains, he sobs, he babbles, shivering, whimpering, panting and never tells you to stop; his beautiful lips are part to cry and you can't resist the throbbing urge to silence him by slipping your thumb into his mouth and press his wet, pink tongue, those lips closing around your finger to suck obscenely. There's an involuntary moan from you at his pathetic lust-filed expression, thanks to it everything feels so warm and that finger in his mouth calms him enough to make him start moving his hips along with you in sloppy thrusts upward, pushing his swollen cock deeper until you have no choice but to bounce on him now, longing for your own satisfaction.
That cute little thing is stretching you open so much, hiding his flushed face in your chest, drooling on your finger when he loses control of the sensations, the slightest touch can make him come and you only need to bury your fingers in his hair and pull so that the hint of pain makes him reach climax and paint your insides with his thick and warm cum.
Such a pitiful vulgar mess... Riding him makes him stupid.
🖋️ ` I no longer have ideas for individual characters; now every obscene thought that pops into my mind is with hundreds of characters, making me feel like some cheap whore in this economy.
thinking ab jock!yuji and fem!nerdy reader in a college au ᝰ.ᐟ fluff, suggestive themes, yuji's a bit of a meathead
jock!yuji who somehow, someway, always manages to be late to every lecture. he’s #2 in the state for the track and field 400 meter sprint, quite literally the fastest your college has ever seen, and yet, he still can’t manage to be on time. ironic isn’t it?
you glance at the clock. 8:30 am. it was like he had this down to a science. class started fifteen minutes ago, so any moment now—
jock!yuji who realizes he swung the door open with much more force than needed when a few people basically jump out of their skin at his entrance, and he looks back at it for a second as if he wasn’t aware of his own strength. cheeks pink and splotchy, his breaths come out in short little puffs as if he’d just got done running here.
spoiler alert: he had.
“sorry, I— I didn’t—“
“It’s fine,” stopping mid speech, your professor blinks his irritation away. “just find a seat, mr. itadori.”
“yes sir. sorry, sir.” he obliges, and then his eyes scan across the large lecture hall.
you’re now aware of the open seat next to you and you slouch down a little as if you could fuse into your own.
he climbs the stairs, one hand clasped onto the strap of his book bag that’s slung over a broad shoulder, feet skipping one step each time with ease until his sneakers stop in front of you.
“could-“ voice a little hoarse, he clears his throat. “could I sit here?”
you nod.
“bet, thanks.”
his book bag plops down first, then his body, rather unceremoniously at that, into the neighboring chair he’d pulled out for himself.
brief murmurs are spoken in the short intermission but die down once your professor clicks onto the next slide, everyone’s focus centering back onto the screen in front of them.
except yours.
your mechanical pencil strums restlessly between your thumb and pointer finger because you can feel his eyes glancing at your temple every few seconds and you’re just waiting for him to say something already.
and then he leans in, close enough to whisper, which he happens to be absolutely terrible at you might add.
“you have a pencil i could borrow?” he whisper yells.
“seriously?” you whisper back.
he looks to the side, then back at you. “uh… a pen is cool too, i guess, if that’s all you—“
“what do you even have in your backpack?” you hiss through clenched teeth.
“uhh,” he genuinely searches his bag as if your question wasn’t rhetorical. “a clif bar,” another side pocket is unzipped, and he grimaces apologetically when his eyes return to yours with a less than favorable answer. “and a highlighter... but it’s yellow.”
you roll your eyes and reach to grab your pencil case.
jock!yuji who effortlessly catches up to you in the courtyard after lecture with just a few long strides, scaring the shit out of you when he nudges your shoulder with his elbow, maybe a little too hard given how you stumble slightly.
“jesus fucking-“
“you’re a fast walker!” he notes, sounding impressed. and then, his hand outstretched in front of you to reveal the hello kitty themed writing utensil you’d given him just thirty minutes ago. “forgot to give your pencil back.”
you wave him off, “keep it.”
his brows rise, “you sure?”
a curt laugh huffs through your nostrils. “trust me, you need it more than i do. or are you gonna rough it with your yellow highlighter for the rest of the day?” you tease.
it’s boyish, crooked, and just a little bit cute the way he smiles down at you. a little bit.
“very funny.”
jock!yuji who finds you in one of the library’s quiet study rooms later that week with your head down, brows clenched, and focus unwavering as you meticulously drag a stripe of translucent blue over the capitalized header of your notes.
it takes you a few seconds to notice his big brown eyes gazing at you intensely. and when you do, all you can manage to get out is an, “um—?“
“i need you to tutor me.” he blurts, “please.”
your brow quirks suspiciously, “who told you i’m a tutor?”
his thumb juts behind him when he says, “the giant ‘tutor’ sign outside the door i just came through?”
you forgot about that. “right.”
but you swore you didn’t see his name on the list when you checked this morning, and you confirm that thought when you grab your phone and pull up your agenda for the day.
“what day did you sign up for?” you scroll through, seeing nothing but a blank page.
“huh?” his head tilts like a puppy in response to a dog whistle. “sign up?”
“yes. you have to sign up for a time slot.” he scratches his head like he doesn’t get it, so you continue with a deadpan expression. “the qr code? you know, on the giant sign you just—“
his bottom lip juts out. did he just fucking pout? oh my god he’s pouting at you.
“just sit down.”
jock!yuji who eventually uses your qr code to sign up for a tutoring slot with you every tuesday for the rest of the month so he doesn’t accidentally interrupt another of your solo study sessions, and it’s the one thing he’s actually on time for because he really needs to pass this exam.
sharpened down to its last leg now, the same hello kitty pencil is used to scribble his answer down on the loose leaf that you also provided him. it looks comically tiny between his fingers, his penmanship a little strained due to its inconvenient size. he flips the sheet to face you, pencil slamming down determinedly and eyes looking to you with anticipation.
craning your neck slightly, you click your tongue after a heavy moment of silence. “wrong.”
he scoffs. “what the fu— how?”
“you missed the second step,” his eyes squint at where your finger is on his sheet of paper. “yuji, if you miss the second step the entire equation is wrong, no matter what.”
groaning, he lets his head drops down onto his arms like bummed child. he was never good at math, let alone statistics.
you chew on your words for a beat, but curiosity gets the best of you so you ask anyway, arms crossing over your chest.
“why are you always late?” after a brief pause, you tack on, “—to lecture, i mean.”
a sheepish, quiet chuckle leaves him when he sits up and rubs the back of his head. it lacks the humor it should have, like he’s ashamed to talk about it.
“track. i have team lifts every morning,” he fiddles with your his pencil. “and i would’ve chosen another day to take the class but there was only one option, so,” his hands gesture to the air to complete his sentence.
“so track is more important than passing this class?” it comes out sounding harsher than you intended.
“uh, nah, it’s kinda complicated.” his jaw tenses, and it’s like you can see into him for just a moment. “i have a scholarship through track. it was just me and my grandpa for a while before he passed, so… that’s how i pay for school.”
guilt instantly drenches you, lips opening and closing like a fish out of water before you finish his explanation for him. “and in order to stay on the team, and keep your scholarship… you need to pass this class.”
his hands are flat and pressed together for emphasis. “really need to pass this class.”
he sees your eyes soften and waves you off immediately, he doesn’t want you feeling bad for him, it’s not your fault.
“i-i shouldn’t have assumed, i’m sorry.”
“don’t sweat it.”
jock!yuji who’s starting to impress you by his fourth tutoring session. he even has his own pencil and notebook now!
but now that his understanding is starting to pick up, he can’t stop his mind from wandering away from what you’re explaining to him on your laptop’s screen. he thinks about how put together you seem, how smart you clearly are. how you intentionally save a seat for him next to you in the lecture hall using your backpack now, with zero judgment and only understanding because you know he’s on his way. how your brows push together and make that cute little line between them when you’re double checking his work.
you glance up to ask if he comprehended what you just said to him, just to see his eyes on you instead of the very detailed tutorial you’d put together and recorded for him last night.
the tips of his ears run red and he’s brought back to reality, and your chest tightens with the intrusive feelings you’ve been trying to ignore when he blabs,
“what?”
your brows have that cute little line he was just thinking about between them right now.
“did you hear anything i just said?”
“yes.” he answers confidently. blindly.
“repeat it.” you demand.
his lips make way for words that never come, then they close.
your head dips to the side a little when you sigh, “yuji.”
jock!yuji who’s stomach flips when you say his name like that and he doesn’t know why. maybe it’s how you’re looking up at him through your lashes expectantly, like you want him to listen because you know he’s capable of getting this. like you believe in him.
swallowing hard, he sits up straighter, “sorry,” then runs his sweaty palms run over his jeans, thighs tensed. why are his hands so sweaty?
“i’m listening.”
jock!yuji who parades into the library like he just won the lottery, slinking into your study room cooly without pushing the cracked door open any further. all five fingers slap a stapled packet down over the notes you were reading. he has the most shit eating grin on his face.
“yuji—“
“read that,” he points to the top right corner, taps on it. “tell me what that says.”
so you do, eyes flying back up to see him so loaded with excitement that you find out he has a dimple.
“you passed!”
“b-minus,” his hands shoot up like he just won the super bowl, voice booming, “i fuckin passed, baby!”
a few very agitated students glare at him so you shush him and grab his wrist, yanking him to sit down with you. you try your best to stifle your laugh and ignore the sensation that blooms deep in your gut at what he called you, even if he didn’t mean it like that.
jock!yuji who is utterly shocked when he offers to treat you to lunch and you actually say yes (he was going to resort to begging if you said no). granted, he did phrase it as being a form of compensation for helping him pass the exam, since you volunteer as a tutor in the library for free and all.
he knows he was a pain in the ass to teach so he insisted, also because he couldn’t find the balls to ask you out without a reason beneath it as a safety net. what he didn’t know, is that you would’ve said yes regardless of his declaration of ‘owing you one’.
all his nerves wash away and replace with a small bout of confidence when you simply ask. “when?”
though they’re quick in their return, hitting him like a freight train the very next day as you stand at your front door where he’s picking you up from, beautiful as ever with a smile he selfishly wants to keep for some reason. but he won’t get ahead of himself, it’s only lunch, nothing more.
jock!yuji who is so much more than what you expected that you curse your past self for judging him before you really got to know him. he’s ridiculously funny, incredibly kind and insanely attractive. and while you’ve always known that last part, actually getting to know him made it all the more apparent.
he laughs at every joke you make, a real belly laugh, the kind that’s not the slightest bit polite and makes you laugh too just by hearing it. and he listens to you with his entire body as you talk about something he truly has no reason to care about, chin in hand, eyes peeled and face emotive.
but you won’t get ahead of yourself, and you’ll repeat it in your head until it’s what you believe. that as he places his card down on the bill and scribbles what’s supposed to be his name in cursive under the tip portion, that this is only lunch and nothing more. a kind gesture.
until the two of you are back in his dorm room and jock!yuji, who is beet faced and kiss drunk genuinely thinks he might pass out from how fast his heart is drumming against his ribcage when you break away from him to breathe, a string of shared saliva connecting you both. breathing is overrated, he thinks, flushed lips chasing after yours like they’re two halves of a whole that shouldn’t be separated, his body pressing into you with a hunger that makes your stomach churn. and you duck your head down to his tensed jaw instead, mind feeling hazy because his cologne smells so good it’s making you dizzy.
large hands squeeze your denim clad hips as you’re perched in his lap and if you shift them forward one more time he might lose his composure, but he still can’t stop himself from helping you rock down into him and he doesn’t think he wants to. the sensation of your heated gasp tickles against his skin, makes his adams apple bob dangerously in his throat and he’s really trying to be gentleman but you aren’t making this easy for him.
your lips are so much softer, so much better than he imagined and his tongue darts out to lick at his own, tasting the faint hint of strawberry you’ve left on them. you don’t know how many nights he’s spent wondering what your chapstick would taste like.
he relishes in the feeling of you nibbling at his skin, maybe a little too much, he realizes, when a strangled mewl claws its way from his throat and makes you pull away to look at him with adorable concern.
“should i get off?”
jock!yuji who’d do anything to keep you right here— who’s so quick to shake his head that you can’t help the giggle that escapes you and he can’t help but feel a little embarrassed for being so eager.
18+ men who cry when they eat you out!! - tw dacryphilia
He’s on his knees between your thighs, shoulders trembling before his mouth even touches you. The first long, slow lick makes his breath hitch—sharp, almost pained, and when he presses his tongue flat against your clit, a low, broken sound escapes him. Not a moan. A sob. Muffled against your wet heat, shoulders shaking harder as he laps at you like a man starved and grieving at the same time.
Tears slip down his cheeks, warm and silent, mixing with your slick on his jaw. He doesn’t stop. Can’t stop. His hands clutch your hips like they’re the only thing keeping him grounded while he cries into your pussy; soft, ragged whimpers vibrating through your core every time he sucks your clit between his lips.
You thread your fingers through his hair, gentle, and he shudders harder, another quiet sob muffled right against your entrance as his tongue pushes inside. He’s messy, desperate, cheeks streaked and shining, eyes squeezed shut like the taste of you is too much and not enough all at once. “Fuck,” he chokes out against you, voice wrecked and wet, “you taste so good—please—please don’t stop me—”
He’s crying openly now, tears dripping onto your thighs as he buries his face deeper, tongue working frantically, nose pressed to your clit. Every sob makes his whole body jerk, but he never pulls away. If anything, he presses closer, like he’s trying to crawl inside you, like the only place he belongs is here, drowning in you. When you come, hard, thighs clamping around his ears, he breaks. A full, helpless sob tears out of him as he licks you through it, drinking every pulse, every gush, crying harder with gratitude or overwhelm or both.
His face is a mess, red-rimmed eyes, tear tracks, your slick smeared across his lips and chin, but he looks up at you like you’ve just given him salvation. He doesn’t speak right away. Just rests his wet cheek on your inner thigh, breathing shakily, still sniffling while his hands stroke your sides in slow, reverent circles. Eventually, he whispers, hoarse and thick, “Thank you,” against your skin, like you’ve done something holy by letting him fall apart on his knees for you.
18+ Big scary men who let you slap them during sex.
He’s massive beneath you — broad chest, thick arms, powerful thighs that could easily pin you down if he wanted. But right now he’s on his back, letting you ride him however you want. His hands rest on your hips, not guiding, just holding you steady as you sink down on him.
You lean forward, bracing one hand on his chest, and bring the other down hard across his cheek. The sound is sharp. His head snaps to the side with the force of it. A low, guttural groan rumbles out of his chest as he twitches hard inside you. “Fuck… do it again,” he rasps, voice wrecked.
You slap him again, harder this time, watching the way his eyes flutter and his jaw clenches. His hips buck up sharply, driving deeper into you. The sting on his cheek blooms red against his flushed skin, but he doesn’t stop you. If anything, he looks drunk on it. “Harder, baby,” he begs, voice hoarse. “I can take it.”
You ride him faster, grinding down on him while you slap him again and again. Each hit makes him groan louder, his grip on your hips tightening as he lets you use him. His eyes stay locked on yours the whole time, dark and hazy with lust.
When you finally come, clenching hard around him, you slap him one last time, right as your orgasm hits. That’s what breaks him. He groans deep and filthy, hips stuttering as he spills inside you, thick and hot, pulsing with every slap you land.
Afterward, he’s breathing hard, cheek bright red, but he pulls you down against his chest and kisses you soft and attentively. His hand strokes your back gently, almost apologetically, like he’s the one who should be sorry.
“Again next time?” he murmurs against your lips, voice still rough.
You smile and kiss the reddened mark on his cheek.
the concept of making sammy bryant fuck a fleshlight instead of letting him inside of you when he just wants to feel you sooooo badly… just torturing the poor guy… i’m having #thoughts
cw sammy is a prejac warrior, degrading him a bit but also lots of praise, lots of sweetheart/baby, you let him come in you at the end because he’s just so cute how could you deny him?!
you love sammy and everything about him, including how he often comes so much and so quickly from your touch; in all honesty you find his unbridled lust for you very endearing. it was especially common when he was inside of you, sometimes he’d only get a few strokes in before he was spilling into you like a fire hydrant. sammy would always get so embarrassed in those moments, his ears turning red as he stuttered out apologies, “‘m sorry baby, y-you jus’ felt so good, i couldn’t help it…”
it really was quite cute, and he’d be ready to go again in no time afterwards so it really didn’t bother you. despite that, you also couldn’t help but to love teasing your poor sweet boyfriend and making him beg and plead for you, and his prejac habit just so happened to be an ideal jumping off point for that.
one night when you two were in bed making out, sammy whining into your mouth and desperately rutting his hips against you, you decided that it was the perfect occasion to implement some endurance training.
you let sammy fully undress both you and himself before you broke the kiss to roll over to your nightstand and pull something out. you could see sammy’s stomach drop as soon as he realized what you had in your hands, a fleshlight. it was something you only really used when you were essentially punishing him for something.
“baby wait, why’re you taking that out?” he whimpered, shifting around nervously on top of you.
you placed the toy on the bed beside you and caressed sammy’s cheek, “i think we need to work on your stamina tonight sweetheart. i mean, do you really deserve to be inside of me if you’re gonna keep blowing your load in under 30 seconds?”
sammy looked down, chewing on his lip for a moment before shaking his head, “n-no…”
you looked at him, titling his chin up with your finger and nodding pityingly, “exactly baby.”
you opened a bottle of lube and squirted some of the cool liquid on his cock, rubbing it over his length. sammy breathed shakily at the feeling of your hand on him, trying pathetically to buck his hips into your touch. you removed your hand shortly after, leaving him pouting at the loss of contact.
you placed the fleshlight on top of your pelvis, holding it steady in your hands, “okay, go ahead.”
sammy was just staring at your glistening pussy underneath it, he wanted to be inside of you so badly, not some stupid toy. “but…” he trailed off when you raised your eyebrows at him expectantly.
he slowly pressed into the toy at your behest, letting out a soft sigh at the feeling. it felt good, but nowhere near as good as he would’ve felt inside of you. he looked down to meet your gaze as he began to thrust in and out of it; his eyes looked so sad, as if they were saying, “why’re you doing this to me?”
“you’re doing so good sweetheart. keep going for me, okay?” you encouraged him, but sammy only whined in response.
he planted his hands on the bed beside your shoulders, speeding up the motion of his hips and trying to imagine that he really was just fucking you. the fleshlight was squeezing his cock, but it wasn’t warm and wet the same way that you were, and it didn’t try to milk him the same way that you did.
sammy let out a strangled groan, the sounds of his lubed up cock filling up the toy again and again were obscene. “w-wanna be inside of you,” he choked out, continuing to pound into it.
“i know baby, i know,” you cooed, running your hand over his chest, feeling it shake with the impact of his thrusts.
he moaned, letting his head fall to your shoulder, burying his face in your neck. his quick shallow breaths tickled your ear, making you shiver.
sammy continued like that for quite a while, definitely longer than he usually lasted inside of you, though eventually his movements began to get sloppy and you could tell he was getting close.
maybe it wouldn’t hurt to let him finish off inside of you…
you loved making sammy work for things, but at the end of the day you were as much of a sucker for him as he was for you. you couldn’t bear to let your sweet boy spill himself into a fleshlight after he’d done so well for you.
“okay sammy, you can come inside of me.”
he lifted himself up to look at you, still pumping into the toy, “i-i can? i can put it in?” his voice was shaky with disbelief.
“mhm,” you gently pulled the toy off of him and put it down, taking sammy’s lube-slick cock in your hand and lining it up with your entrance.
he pushed into you almost instantly, “ohmygod,” he whimpered, “feels so fuckin’ good baby holy shit,” he breathed out, driving into you with a renewed fervour.
your poor boyfriend was a complete mess but he still felt so good inside of you. sammy stretched you out so perfectly and always fucked you like he needed your pussy to survive.
“you’re being such a good boy for me sammy. you don’t need to hold back anymore, you can come, okay?” you wrapped your legs and arms around him, holding him in close to you.
“o-okay,” sammy nodded, pressing himself in all the way to the hilt a few more times before he started shaking, dropping his head back down again and moaning into your ear, “‘m coming, fuck i’m coming!”
“good sweetheart, doin’ so good for me, just like that.”
sammy emptied himself deep inside of you with a groan, his cock pulsing as his come spurted against your cervix. he kept himself there as he recovered, panting against your skin.
you let your fingers run through his auburn curls, scratching his head lightly with your nails in the way you knew that he loved. “that’s my good boy,” you whispered.
pervy bf!choso who gets hard when you yell at him.
pervy bf!choso who has a sweat kink.
pervy bf!choso who gets off to the thought of you stepping on him.
pervy bf!choso who’ll eat you out anywhere, anytime. Whether it’s after you’ve came back from the gym, in a empty parking lot, or even in a random public bathroom. He’s always up to it.
pervy bf!choso who loves getting smacked by you during sex.
pervy bf!choso who desperately wants you to peg him. But he’s too nervous to ask you.
pervy bf!choso who loves using your panties as a gag when he jerks off.
pervy bf!choso who uses your cum as coffee creamer.
pervy bf!choso who loves being bossed around by you.
pervy bf!choso who wears a collar with your name on it under his clothes. He loves knowing that you own him, that he’s yours.
⡴ utterly whipped gojo forcing you to praise him during sex [kinda a pt 2 to this ? ] ⡴ didn’t even touch word count
he’s balls deep in you, and yet of course he’s still spouting stupid bullshit.
“i’m doing good, right baby?” he moans (moreso whimpers), still thrusting in that half-romantic half-what it’s actually supposed to be—a hookup—rhythm. his normally porcelain cheeks are completely flushed, his cool white hair falls in his face, some strands sticking to his forehead glistening in sweat.
“i—what?” you manage to say, still out of breath from how he’s fucking into you with his unfairly big cock. every perfect ridge and vein of it is dragging against your walls as he thrusts in and out of your sopping cunt—though you’ll deny how wet you are because of how large gojo’s ego will be if he knows he actually arouses you.
“say it.” he pouts above you, gripping harder on your shoulders he’s deemed a perfect leverage point in you to help with his strokes. “say i’m doing good… please?” his blue eyes pleading to you like a puppy dog.
“gojo, i’m not fucking doing th—” he shoves all the way back in and stops his thrusts. you moan without even meaning to from the sheer amount of girth being stuffed in you. he juts his lower lip out further, clearly upset by your answer.
“c’mon,” he looks physically pained as he restrains himself from continuing his thrusts. “just say it and i’ll keep fucking you.” he whines out, sounding a lot more weak and less intimidating than he thought he would.
you breathe out. you know he’ll hold on to this for the rest of the foreseeable future but you’re close anyway. you’ll come then kick him out like always and if next time he keeps mentioning it, you’ll just stuff his face with your pussy.
“you’re doing so good, gojo.” you moan out in a shaky voice.
he moans, loudly, near pornographic, and he gets back to thrusting immediately, except he seems more motivated. his strokes are fasting and more like he’s trying to impress you. his sounds are more desperate and huffy than before.
he reaches around your waist to hug you closer and shove his face deep in your neck, right below your ear.
“haaah, fuck, baby—say i’m the best you’ve ever had, please.”
“mm, god, gojo you’re the best i’ll ever fucking have.” he cries out. cries out and actually cries. tears start streaming down his pale face and cupping along your neck and collar bone where he’s found solace. he’s breathing like he’s just run a marathon.
unwantedly but admittedly, you say this next one yourself. it’s almost like you’re starting to… like him. ew.
“such a g’boy for me, satoru.” he nuts. immediately thick cum oozes into your pussy, spilling out from how overstuffed it already is with his girthy, oversized, genetic lottery winning cock. his whole body shakes and shivers while he releases, still trying to thrust so you could finish like the good boy he is.
unfortunately he forgets he’s not god and ends up overstimulating the hell out of himself by the time he gets you to cream by his thumb pressing along your clit.
he brings his head up, covered in sweat as he’s still shaking from the feeling of nutting the hardest he ever has.
he looks nearly completely out of it before his lips curl into a smirk. “you finally called me satoru!” and then he’s attacking your lips and shoving his tongue so far down you’re throat like he’s wasn’t just near seizing from cumming.
mdni. choso is a crybaby who wants you to sit on his face.
choso x fem!reader (.6k words)
"i wanted to see you fully today, baby boy," you lightly complain and pout at him, as you push him to sit on the couch after your close-to-half-hour kissing session by the door.
"come on now, i—hah," he swallows when he finally feels your weight on him, you're straddling him, which leads to choso gripping your waist so tightly it could break, "i haven't eaten you in ages."
you put the loose strands of hair behind his ear and buck your hips up onto his hardness very lightly. the space between his eyebrows scrunches up at your teasing, "by ages, you mean a few days—ow!" choso is impatient, so he bites the exposed skin on your chest.
"choso—," you think he'll stop, but he doesn't. he is lapping up the space that is neither too far nor too close to your nipple. he licks the bite mark that he left on your skin, looking up at you through his lashes, "please, let me eat you," he whimpers, with tears welling up in his eyes.
you exhale a shaky breath, a negligible trembling of your fingers on his nape. "baby, please," he appeals once more, using the tone that he knows will make you bend to his will, so you do.
choso is on the bed—well, he is looking all nice and fucked up, with tears falling down anytime now, waiting for you to remove your bottoms.
"'so fucking beautiful," choso is also breathless, and it's taking everything in him to put his thoughts into words, but he succeeds nonetheless. you're on the bed and kneeling on either side of his face, holding onto the headboard now, fully naked waist down, with an unbuckled bra that's loosely sitting on your chest.
choso does not wait for you to sit on him as he rashly brings his face up to your pussy, making you lose your hold from the headboard. you both moan at the abrupt turn of things: you, at the way he gives a long stripe from your labia to your clit; and him, at the satisfaction of feeling your weight on his head, the scent of your wetness, the sweetness of your juice that he thinks he can substitue meals to for every day of his life.
when choso eats you, he does not touch your pussy, of course he doesn't. he's grabbing your ass to pull you as close as physically possible to his face, and he does not rub your clit nor fuck you with his fingers. but he cries, though. he moans, and whimpers, and manages to tell you sweet-nothings—s' good, baby; pretty… pretty… pretty fucking pussy; please don' stop; keep fucking m' face, love—albeit in between breaths and with the occasional crack in his voice, and he keeps sobbing.
choso thinks, and most probably believes, that he can survive off of your pussy—and he will. but sometimes, like today, you try to coax him into taking a break and taking a sip of water, worried that he may dehydrate from all the tears he's letting out, "cho—so! please, water—ahhh!" choso sucks on your clit so hardly it may bruise.
"need—mmmmh—drink," you try again. but with the way he's doing your clit like it's his lifeline, giving your folds long licks in between, and bringing his tongue into your hole and drinking and sucking and slurping your juices, ah—he will live off of this alone. what the fuck are food and water for? choso will always ask.
please feel free to send requests, need to practice my writing. :)
⡴ choso loves when you call him “good boy” (fluff + smut, oral) ⡴ 0.4k words
whenever you say “good boy” to him, he swears he’s in heaven. he swears you could control him with just two words to do anything and everything.
“be a good boy for me and take out the trash, cho’?” done. instantly he’s getting up, throwing on slides and doing it because of how goddamn sweet your voice sounds, practically entrancing him to do it.
he’d do whatever you want already, but the second your pretty lips move to say “good boy” he’s like a sailor being lured by a siren. his self control and any smidge of doubt is sent out the window.
and when you utter it softly as his flexed tongue laps at your pussy, he’s gone. he’s gripping your thighs harder and shoving in his face deeper like your words are his fuel. his tattered, calloused fingers are digging into the pudge of your thighs, tensed and spreading them apart. your fingers are doing next to the same in his hair, clumping the thick, black strands and scraping at his scalp.
“hngh—good boy, choso,” you moan out, saying those simple words that makes him go so fucking feral again, head thrown back in pure ecstasy. he pushes your thighs up, kneeled over infront of you, giving him a better angle to drive straight into your cunt. his soft, round nose nudges at your clit, driving a jolt out of you and making you clench around his fervent tongue. “so fuckin’ good for me, cho.”
he moans. moans out into your pussy, muffled by the flesh he’s dived into. he’s drooling, saliva pooling at his chin after falling from his lips, mixed with the wetness from your cunt you’ve been dripping on his pussy-drunk mouth.
“such a g’boy,” you heave out, voice strained from how much you’ve wailed for him already. he whimpers, you’re pretty sure he’s crying now, hell he might be enjoying this more than you.
your cunt pulses on his face, the one currently staring up at you with pleading, blown out eyes. tears are streaming down his face as he continues to feast on your pussy, practically drowning in it.
he swears out a muffled cry for you as you cream on his tongue, orgasm leaking down his tongue and running off his chin messily.
he pulls back, looking more dazed than you.
“did so good, baby.” you say, ruffling his dark hair, his face scrunching as he moans when you do.
satoru has been unbearable for three days. they say that's what happens during ruts, anyway - a change in behaviour. most felines get more aggressive, or even downright territorial.
satoru becomes clingy.
“baby,” satoru whines into the back of your neck, voice wrecked and raspy. “you’re doing this on purpose.”
you barely look up. “doing what?”
“that.” he buries his face against your shoulder, breathing you in. “smelling like that.”
you hum, and the sound nearly kills him. every instinct in his body is revolving around you until it borders on insanity, and you were ignoring him.
his large hands slide around your waist, body twisting on the couch until he's as comfortable as he can get. “sweets,” he mutters desperately, dragging his nose down the side of your throat. “c’mon. look at me.”
you sigh softly. perhaps in exasperation. it makes his pupils blow wide nonetheless. fuck. he inhales again, slower this time, nearly dizzy from your scent. warm skin and shampoo and something soft and uniquely you underneath it all that makes every predatory instinct in him spark alive.
mine. mine mine mine.
his teeth graze your shoulder before he can stop himself. “satoru,” you warn.
“i know,” he mumbles instantly, though his grip tightens. “i know, baby, i know.” for approximately twelve seconds, he behaves, then his body rolls off the couch, dropping between your legs, hands sliding lower and lower until you feel him grind against your calf with a frustrated noise.
“seriously?” you say flatly.
his tail wraps around your thigh possessively while he mouths at your neck again, slow wet kisses turning into little nips when you continue to ignore him. honestly, the lack of reaction from you might've been what drives him craziest. when you grumble his name again he grabs your thigh and presses his face into it. “need you,” he mutters against your skin.
“you’re dramatic.”
“m’ serious.” his tongue slowly drags up your bare leg and you twitch. there it is, finally - a reaction. his tail puffs instantly.
“there you are,” he breathes, sounding downright delirious. before you can answer he bites your thigh, just enough to make you jolt and glare down at him. “i’m being soooo good,” he insists while licking over the mark immediately after. “you don’t appreciate how good i'm being.”
“you say that like it’s reassuring.” satoru just grins lazily against your skin, sharp canines flashing, and when you jut your leg up just an inch, pressing against him harder, he lets out a groan so obscene it echoes through the apartment.
you stare at him. “..you’re unbelievable.”
“yeah,” he breathes, eyes half lidded while grinding against your leg shamelessly. “but you love me.”
his ears flick when your fingers finally slide into his hair. instantly, the man melts, a deep rumbling purr vibrating through his chest as he nearly collapses against you, licking slow stripes up the inside of your thigh.
you find the base of his ears, through the thick tufts of his white hair, and scratch. satoru's canines sink into the plush of your thighs, teeth dragging up, up, up until they're tearing a line through your shorts, ripping them off.
“satoru!” you scold, your protests promptly fading into soft little moans when he buries his face between your legs, blue eyes gone fully dark, spotted tail flicking rapidly behind him.
“m’ gonna be so good to you, sweets,” he rumbles against your core. “promise.”
choso is a perv... still ended up in your bed tho .ᐟ mdni 18+
𝜗𝜚 cw: dom!reader, sub!choso, fem!reader, roommate!choso, riding, choking, kind of a pain kink, panty-stealing, teasing, edging (kinda), mentions of weed, cervix kissing, pervy!choso, biting, sadist!reader?, masochist!choso??, he whimpers n he begs (as he should), slightly oral fixation!choso???
𝜗𝜚 wc: 1.2k
if choso had known that stealing your panties would eventually have him propped up against your headboard with your soft thighs caging his sturdy hips and your tits bouncing heavy in his face– he would have gotten caught way sooner.
“ngh– fuck,” choso’s voice breaks around a whimper, his brows furrowed together and sweat beading down his temple as you bounce yourself fucking stupid on his cock. you should be mad at him right now; your roommate had been stealing your favourite pairs of panties for months and you’re rewarding him by fucking him?
but christ, who knew such a meek and pervy guy who smokes weed next to the bathroom window was hiding not only an insane sleeper build, but a monster cock embellished with veins and a mushroomy tip that was bullying your cervix with every bounce.
“nnh— what did you do with them, cho?” you purr, dragging your thumb across choso’s bottom lip, your other hand planted firmly on his unfairly chiselled abs. his abs tense under your touch, his core fighting for movement but alas, he lost that privilege the moment you caught him fisting his cock with your latest pair of missing panties– and in your bed. said panties are wrapped tight around his wrists behind his head, lightly damp with his own pre and sweat and making his biceps bulge so deliciously.
oh how you want to sink your teeth into them…
“p-please–” he begs, drool collecting at the side of his mouth as you rolled your hips into his, a deep satisfied sigh pouring from your lips as the blunt head of his cock nudged against that spot inside you that made your tummy drop n’ your poor clit rubs against the coarse happy trail at the base of choso’s dick.
“c’mon, baby… don’t be shy on me now,” you tease, pressing your thumb against his bottom lip until he shyly parts his lips, eyes droopy with lust and need as you press the pad of your thumb to his tongue.
“m’sorry—“ saliva drips down his chin as you press your thumb against his tongue, the wet muscle fighting against the pressure, lips loose around your thumb.
“s’messy, cho,” you coo, your free hand scraping your nails up his chest, his body shivering with the mix of pain and the mindfucking pleasure of your pretty pussy wrapped snug around his aching cock.
he’s so rock hard it’s fucking painful— and you’re teasing him. and he’s letting you because he would rather let you fuck him until he was shooting blanks, than go back to jerking himself off with your panties choking the base of his reddened cock, or humping his mattress with his face pressed into the shirt you’d worn to the gym the day before, or having to excuse himself to rub one out over his sweats when you asked if your outfit looked cute for your night out with your girls.
he’d let you do fucking anything to him right now.
your pretty manicured hand wraps around the base of his throat, finger and thumb squeeeezing the muscles on either side.
your thighs tense as you lift yourself almost aalllll the way off his cock before dropping back down. you bounce and roll your hips, the wet bap! bap! of your ass meeting his thighs forcing choso’s hips to buck, wanting to fuck his mushroomy tip further into your cunt, as if he could bully past your already bruised cervix.
your teeth sink into your bottom lip, biting back a loud moan because he’s so stupidly big and has no earthly idea.
his fucked-out gaze draaaags down your pretty tits and the expanse of your soft tummy before settling on the translucent ring of cum that settles around the base of his cock, watching as your greedy pussylips swallow his length n’ your slick drips down his tight balls and pools against your pale bedsheets.
choso’s lips pull off your thumb, head thrown back and hitting your wall with a quiet thud because if he keeps watching, he’s gonna fucking cum, “ngh, f-fuck—“
“you like that, hm?” you sigh around a moan, feeling his cock twitch inside you.
choso nods mindlessly, humming out an unintelligible noise as you slowly press yourself uuuup n’ dooown on his cock.
“c-can you go f-faster?” the question is a broken whine, his breaths hot and heavy as they fan across your throat. “please–”
choso feels the hand around his throat sneak higher, pressing tighter around his windpipe and forcing his eyes to roll back as you lift your plush hips off his cock just to plummet back down with a mean roll– but it’s still too slow for poor, sweet choso.
he whimpers again, the sound gurgled and forced from the pressure of your hand around his pretty throat.
choso’s eyes glaze with tears, “pleaseplease– i wanna cum–”
he can feel his balls tighten, feel the heat curl in his abdomen only to shy away when you lift your hips, just to fuck yourself with his tip, feeling the swollen tip catch and stretch your throbbing hole.
“ngh, ngh– pleeeaaaase–”
you grin devilishly, pressing your lips to the corner of his eye to kiss away the salty globs. your grip on his throat loosens, but still holding possessively. the corded muscles of his biceps are taut behind his head; tensing and straining with the desperate need to grip you–
riiiiip–
you still your movements and choso’s eyes blow wide.
he ripped your fucking panties.
the remnants of the lacy black fabric hang loose around choso’s red wrists, deep lines indented into his pale skin from pulling and tugging against the delicate elastic.
his pretty puppy eyes, filled with tears, glance up at you, “m’so sorry–”
you tilt your head to the side, a faux pout tugging at your bottom lip, “you wanna touch me that bad, cho?”
you run your hand through his hair, nails scraaaping against his scalp, “but you ruined my favourite panties.”
you feel choso’s cock twitch against your gummy walls, revelling in any type of affection you give him.
perv.
“i’ll make it up t’you,” choso mutters, hands landing very cautiously on your hips.
“oh, you will?” you lean in close, pretty lips brushing the shell of his ear, sending a mean shiver up his spine as your tits press flush against his broad chest.
choso moans against your shoulder, “yesyes– i promise.”
“how’re y’gonna do that, cho?”
you’re teasing him harder now, just fucking with him because he’s too pussydrunk to know what’s good for him.
“i-i’ll be s’good, i promise– i’ll make you feel sooo good, baby, please–” he’ll say anything to get you to bounce on his dick right now.
you grin against the hot skin of his neck, lips brushing down the thick muscle that tenses under your touch, “oh, yeah?”
“yeah– yesyes,” he whimpers, teeth sinking into his bottom lip and fingers curling into the meat of your ass as you nip and bite at the side of his neck.
you pull away, the hand sitting at the base of his throat curling to grab his jaw, fingers squeezing his cheeks and forcing his lips into a cute lil’ pout.
your eyes look him up… n’ down.
“prove it, perv.”
𝜗𝜚 a/n: ...do i like subby men? is that what i've discovered about myself?
tying up choso in bed (spoiler alert: he likes it!)
"p-please touch me b-baby." choso's voice cracks, a pathetic whimper escaping his mouth, struggling to free himself from the silk restraints you put around his wrists.
it has barely been five minutes and he's already begging, eyes almost tearing up, like he's been edged for a decade. well not yet — but you were getting there.
you were mad — not really with choso, more with the girl who flirted with him while you were right next to him, hands linked together. she didn't seem to mind, shooting her shot right there. of course, choso shut her down almost instantly, not sounding even a bit sorry, even harsh for a usally soft spoken person.
and that would've been the end of it, if she didn't sneak her number on paper in his pocket, the both of you not noticing until you arrived home. you were doing the laundry when the piece of paper falling out his jeans caught your attention.
the moment you realised what it was, your mind went furious. who does she think that she is, first hitting on a clearly taken man and after getting rejected still pulling this shit?
you weren't really jealous — you know choso would never think about texting that number anyway. but something darker was building up deep inside your chest, something possesive. how dare another girl think she had a chance, with someone that was clearly yours?
poor choso didn't even get to ask you if everything was alright when you were already pushing him into the bed, straddling him. he was confused, his usual sweet girlfriend, manhandling him like she was about to slap him.
that sums about up to your situation now. his cock was painfully hard, throbbing and leaking precum all over himself, his hands tied to the headboard,making him unable to move them. you were between his legs, fingertips barely grazing his shaft, making him flinch against your touch.
"pl-please why aren't you hck touching me?" he sounds hurt, but mostly frustated from the fact he can't put his hands on your body. you tilt your head slightly, looking him in the eyes, not answering.
with just a finger, you drag with a feather light pressure your finger from the underside of his dick up until you graze his tip, making him whine and push up his hips, needing more to statisfy the ache he was feeling.
just as he thought you were finally giving in, you pull away completly, leaving him to hump the air. "i d-don't get it. why aren't you t-touching me?" he sounds absolutely wrecked, the teasing having gone on for over an hour by now, not an ounce of release.
your eyes are sharp when they meet his — he's crying, eyes red and full of exhaustion mixed with frustation of being restrained. you were definetly starting to feel bad for him now. you crawl from your position between his legs up until you were face to face with your boyfriend, caressing his tear stained cheek, wiping away the tears.
" i'm so sorry, my pretty boy. you're doing s'good aren't you?" the praise worsens the ache between his legs, but he nods a sob leaving his mouth.
"you deserve to cum don't you? my good boy." he gasps, a breathy yes please coming out as a whimper. he's pulling the soft silk, wanting nothing more than to touch you anywhere. you snake a hand down his bare chest, stopping right at his happy trail. however, this time you finally give in — not without a bit of teasing.
choso chokes on a surprised half-groan half-gasp, feeling a sharp stinging pain on his sensitive cock. did you just slap his dick? he wasn't to sure if his brain was starting to mess with him, but before he could overthink it he felt it again.
slap! the same sharp pain rushing thorugh his body, making him whimper loudly tugging at the restraints holding him back. he's confused — it hurts, at the same time he bucks his hips up, searching more of the pain, chasing the feeling.
"my poor baby, i'm so sorry does that hurt?" your condenscending tone makes his eyes roll back, his breath catching. "yes-no- p-please don't stop."
you don't — another sharp slap right across his tip this time 3 — this time he moans, more pre cum dripping down his pulsing cock. it hurts so much — but he doesn't tell you to stop, doesn't ask you to slow down or be more gentle.
"look at you, taking it so well. so good for me." you coo, slowly setting fully back in your position between his legs. "mhmm- i- it feels s-so good."
"shh,i know baby, i know." and for the first time that evening your lips connect with his stomach — pressing small wet kisses all the way down to his v-line. he gasps, the sudden contact after so long shooting pleasure right to his dick.
you wrap your hand around his shaft, gently squeezing him — he cries out, head falling back against the soft pillow. "yeah? feels good? look at you, taking it so well." your soft voice makes his cheeks burn up.
"u-untie me please hic b-baby. need to touch you." you shake your head denying his request, but before he could complain any further, you place a soft kiss right on his tip.
"o-oh f-fuck hnngh." another moan, he's so sensitive from your previous teasing that even such a small act has him writhering in pleasure. you continue to leave small kisses all over his cock, until you're back on top of his dick, finally wrapping your lips around his tip and sucking gently.
he let out a broken groan, eyes rolling further back, thighs tensing like he was already close. " i-i'm not gonna ngh l-last if you keep going." his voice is shaky, barely holding on.
you ignore his warning, taking him all the way, your own eyes tearing up from his sheer size, nose touching his pubes. he gasps, fucking his cock deeper into your mouth, making you gag around him. "i-i ishit imcomingfuckkk!"
and suddenly, he lets out a surprised string of whimpers, cock twitching in your wet mouth — and before he knows it, he's releasing his hot cum, spurts coming out in big loads from all the previous edging.
you stay put until he stops cumming, only pulling off when he's panting, legs shaking from the unexpected orgasm. swallowing his cum, a small drop drips down your chin, not long before your taking your finger and swiping the cum on it, making your way back to your boyfriend's face.
taking your clean hand you open his mouth, putting the cum stained finger in to make him suck. he lets out a surprised groan, but he sucks on your digit until it's clean of his cum.
"so obedient. only mine aren't you?" he nods, still dumbfounded from his orgasm, cock still hard, despite leaking cum all over.
"say it."
"i-im yours. o-only yours." his voice is soft, sincere and out of breath. you hum approvingly caressing his face. "p-please untie me. need to touch y'please." he whispers like he's unsure if you would actually listen.
you do — hands moving to untie the knot. "don't try to take control m'kay?" the moment he feels the silk falling, his arms wrap around your waist almost immediatly, burying his face in your chest.
"choso, i just said don't try anything!" he looks up from your chest, eyes still glossy. "i-i just want a hug, please." you pause at his honest tone, heart warming. you wrap your arms around him, pulling him back in, and he thightens his grip on your waist.
after a moment or two he reluctanly puts some distance between you. "can i kiss you? please?" you just nod, and now his lips are on yours, he's touching you all over, your hands tug at his hair when he bites down on your lips.
"please l-let me taste you, i will be good, please?"
you just nod, the girl long forgotten when he's kissing between your thighs.
you bite down. hard. teeth sinking into your husbands warm flesh. he yelps out in surprise at the suddenness of your action — though in truth, he should be used to it by now.
your little nibbles — on his fingertips, his forearms, his ears, his chest. he is used to it. it's rare for him to be seen without the little indents on his skin, red marks on the parts of him you staked your claim on the last time you had your hands (and teeth) on him.
it comes to you naturally, you need something to gnaw on and your dear husband is right there, in all his perfect chew toy glory with his thick arms, thick chest, thick thighs. his hard muscles softened up by the layer of plush that surrounds them.
there is just so much of him.
and very inch of golden skin is just so tempting. you cant help but sink you teeth into him. osamu never complains, in fact if anything, he actively encourages you.
in bed, under your sheets when he hovers over you, you've got the best view of his body glistening in sweat, his brown eyes dark and glossy with want, hunger. osamus lips are parted, letting every sound he makes out for you to hear. once upon a time he would've been shy about this, embarrassed at himself even — not anymore, not now.
now he gives you everything, all of him. raw and unashamed, osamu put himself on a platter for you to devour.
his hips slam into yours in a smooth consistent repeated motion, legs dangling helplessly over his shoulders with each thrust deeper into you.
breathing harshly with his sliver chain dangling over you. a simple dainty thing you'd gifted him, a pendant of your initial glimmering in the low light of the room. that's not what osamu has his attention set on now though; instead, he hones in on your lips. the way you've got them tugged between teeth, biting into them till their plump and red and nearly bloody.
osamu shifts his weight to his other arm, pulling your lip free with his thumb muttering out a breathy "you'll hurt yourself" brushing over it with his thumb once, twice before letting go and sliding his index and middle fingers into your itching mouth, he sees it, you need to bury your teeth into something.
"bite here instead. mhm theree you go darlin' now don't be shy. osamu can handle it"
you look up at him, meeting his dark glossy gaze with your own for confirmation. he want you to bite him? "come on now, you could do it. you were being so harsh with your poor lip just now. "
he punctuates each of his words with a slow deep thrust into you, dick hitting that sensitive spot inside you with each buck if his hips. you whine around his digits and finally bite down.
osamu doesn't hold back the groan that escapes him, his dick twitching against your gummy walls. "heh, there's my girll~ keep at it yea? m' -hahh all yers ta gnaw on. my girls very own chew toy. yeaa~ just like that. mhmhn"
your eyes teary as he picks up the pace, slamming himself into you faster, rougher. rubbing your clit in tight little circles . when you release his fingers at a particularly deep thrust, tip snug against your g-spot you cry out "os- sa- ahh~ muu" his name comes out in syllables, a moan between each one, your voice stretched and shaky.
he just shushs you, "bite down for me. feels good yea, sinking yer teeth into me? atta girl~"
osamu is now rarely ever seen without bite marks littered all over him. his neck, his arms, his butt (yea. yea. you freak. but he doesn't mind (he enjoys it more than words could ever convey))
he doesn't put too much effort into hiding them away form view, simply remaining unbothered by them as he goes about his day, running the restaurant.
if someone does comment he is so incredibly relaxed about it, "oh those?" ever so coolly. as if he doesn't even remember the little stinging marks are there despite the growing pride that makes his broad chest swell wider because between those cute indents of yours and the silver band on his left hand, everyone knows that he is yours.
and in his eyes, that's exactly how it's meant to be.
