kita 𑣲⋆

ꉂ(˵˃ ᗜ ˂˵) ⋆˚࿔

[miripopopo]

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ ― kita ⟡ sumpa kita >< ⊹♡ ⩇⩇:⩇⩇ . she/her ૮ ․ ․ ྀིა ::

꒰ྀི১ ໒꒱ིྀ multifandom ⋆ self-indulgent blog! + may contain (+18) content ⋆ usually lurking ᯓᡣ𐭩

⋮ ⌗ ┆ haikyuu!! ⟡ jjk ⟡ kuroshitsuji ⟡ tkatb ⟡ 14dwy ⟡ tfc ⟡ ymthah ⟡ co09 ⟡ etc ...

⟡ feel free to reach out or talk in the inbox ♡ lets be moots ! ✶⋆.˚

@ miripopopo, 2026

[miripopopo]

𑣲 K. KOZUME :: you knew that kenma didn’t have the greatest stamina despite his athletic history, and you decided to take advantage of that. but little did you know that you would be outsmarted in your own game.  ₊˚ʚ (+18) content | switch!kenma x fem!reader, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, slight nipple play, praise, degrading, filming/photographing, overstimulation, both of them r freaks | read at your own risk .ᐟ.ᐟ

you knew that kenma didn’t have the greatest stamina despite his athletic history, and you decided to take advantage of that. but little did you know that you would be outsmarted in your own game. 

the great kodzuken had finally hit that 50 million sub goal, and to celebrate, you had excitedly prepared a home cooked dinner that wafted through the halls of your shared apartment. you had cooked up a creamy pasta and steak, with expensive wine to wash down the flavor. you beamed at every stir of the pasta sauce, eager to celebrate with him.

he ended his celebration stream shortly after, and padded outside of his office towards the kitchen island, and carefully observed as you plated the meal.

“hi kodzu, you’re just in time. i just need a sec to plate.” you focus on the steak in front of you, not turning to face the other man.

he hums, “can’t wait to try it, kitty.”

you roll your eyes at the childish nickname, turning around to set the steak down on the table.

dinner ran smoothly, you greeted him with enthusiastic congratulations and warm words of encouragement, clasping his hands together with his. you had always adored kenma’s humility, despite his massive online presence, he never let it get to his head or ego. he carried the same attitude as he did on screen— quiet, timid, funny— it was ironic on how his lack of charisma eventually followed his rise to fame.

you two decided to keep your relationship mostly private, save for the occasional instagram stories where he would post updates where your hair would just be barely seen in the frame, the reflection of your hand slightly visible on the glass, or a candid photo of you on one of your dates. it was sweet, and it allowed him to set boundaries with his fans, who admired you from a far away.

before you knew it, the plates were licked clean, yet chatter continued to fill the air between you two.

“thank you for dinner, it was really good.” kenma’s eyes look into yours, a subtle smile curling on his lips. his hand snakes behind your head as he  pulls you close, planting a sweet kiss onto your forehead. “you’re the sweetest, you make me so happy.”

he thought that was it, that was his reward for his 50 million sub breakthrough. he didn’t know that you still had something else reserved specially for him. you just smiled into his chest.

“congratulations again, kodzu.”

⋆˚࿔

“haah— fuck, s-slow down…” he pants, hands gripping tightly onto your waist as you rolled your hips onto his, his cock burying itself deeper and deeper into your aching cunt. 

“mm… are you tired already, ken?” you tilt your head, and cup his face with your hands. you look at his golden irises, tinted with desperate want need for you.

all for you.

you continue the momentum, before slightly lifting your hips up to let his dick breathe, then slamming yourself fully down onto him once again. 

“fuck…!” he groans, his grip on you tightening even more— enough to leave a bruise later on.

“you feel so good, kitty…” you lean down to kiss him, licking his lips for access into his mouth, which he pathetically accepts. whore.

he hums into the kiss, slipping his tongue to meet with yours. you can feel the heat basically radiate off of his body, slick with a sheen of sweat.

“you’re— mmh.. such a good boy.” you trail your lips down his chin, to his neck and collarbone. inhaling deeply, and you find the comforting aroma of laundry detergent settling into something dizzying. the smell of melted amber, friction, and the salty musk of his sweat pooling at the dip of his collarbone fill your senses, radiating a feverish heat that you just couldn’t get enough of.

pulling away, you pick up the pace again, rhythmically lifting your hips up and down. you trace your hands lower to his chest, soft whines and moans escaping your lips. you couldn’t exactly recall when you two had started, but you could tell he was reaching his limit. his dick continued to twitch inside you with every bounce you made, and it was tantalizing.

kenma couldn't take it anymore. the constant, agonizing friction was unbearable, overriding his exhaustion completely.

before you could lift your hips again, kenma interrupts you. “wa-wait! wait, stop.” he rasps, pulling you down closer to him once more to catch his breath. your bodies collide with one another, both shiny from the sweat between you two. you hear his unsteady breaths by your ear, his chest heaving as he pants for air. his hand traces the dip of your spine, moving in slow circles til he finally rests them on your lower back.

“let me make you cum— ‘don’t wanna cum first.”

wow. this is quite new.

the kenma you knew was one lazy fuck when it came to sex. always content to just lie back and let you do all the work while he enjoyed the view. not that you minded, you liked doing things for him and making him feel good. you knew exactly how to grind your hips, when to bounce, when to kiss and where to touch him, and you drink up all the noises and movements he makes every time. you would notice the subtle jerk of his hips when he’s about to cum, the bruising grip he would have once his dick was overstimulated, the flush of red that would tint his cheeks when you two would get into it too early.

but your favorite thing to take in would be the pathetic whines and whimpers that got you even wetter at your core.  

so this was new to say the least. did his ego get bigger after hitting that 50 million?

before a sly retort could even slip past your lips, his hands clamp down onto your waist and he thrusts his hips upward, the length of his dick burying deeper into you, tip pressing right against your cervix. 

a loud sob tore from your throat, nails digging crescents into his shoulders for leverage. your spine arches from above him, the sudden change in momentum catching you completely off guard now. 

“my turn, ‘kay?” he says sweetly, adjusting the both of you so that you’re laying comfortably on the bed, and he he settles on top of you.

you whine at the change in position, and he slips himself into you again, the wet squelch of your pussy reverberating through the air. kenma rocks his hips upward with minimal effort, causing the mattress to dip and squeak from the sudden shift. 

you try to regain control— to try and hear those sweet, pathetic whimpers your boyfriend would make again, by pressing you hips closer toward him to take him deeper. yet, your attempt remains futile as his kept his hold on you, pinning you back down onto the bed and forcing you to adjust to his weight. 

he tuts, “don’t try to take over, i told you it’s my turn. you know better than that, don’t you, babe?” 

“‘m sorry, baby…” you pull back, allowing him to take more control of the situation.

“that’s what i thought. keep still.” he continues rocking into you slowly, relishing in the feeling of your pussy accommodating to the shape of his cock. 

“you’re still so tight, did you not stretch yourself out on me enough?” he mocks you, eyes locked on yours as he drove his hips up once again, unbothered by the mewl that left your lips.

you didn’t want to admit it, but you were getting pretty fucked out at this point, eyes hazy and body tired, but you were still determined to wear him out even if you were in a different position now.

“i know what you’re trying to do,” he leans into your ear. “im going to win, you know?”

fuck. he’s so fucking hot.

his palm makes its way to the curve of your breast, squeezing lightly before pinching your nipples in between his thumb and index and giving it an experimental twist. 

“k-ken…” you whine out, who’s getting desperate now? 

his hips began to ram into you with more fervor, and your tears begin to well up in your eyes as you keep taking him in fully.

a low, breathy sound escapes his throat, a sound so rarely heard from him that it sends a fresh wave of electricity straight through your core. 

“look at you,” he massages the flesh in his palms, his thumb stroking over the peak of your tits as he maintains the steady upward thrust of his hips that press against that sweet spot every time. “you look so pretty for me.”

he reaches over to the nightstand with one hand, snagging his phone without staggering his pace. “this is all for me, right? say it.” the screen light illuminates the dimly lit bedroom, reflecting off of his sharp, golden eyes. he opens the camera with a quick swipe, angling the lens down where your bodies meet, recording the slickness of your thighs and the flush painting your skin from your chest up to your cheeks. 

“no– kenma, put that away…” you whine out, embarrassment flushing your cheeks pink as you try to cover your face with your free arm. 

he pauses his thrusts to catch your wrist, and pins you gently back down against the mattress, keeping the camera locked on your figure.

“why? you seemed so proud of yourself earlier,” he says lazily, almost mockingly— with the amount of feign concern that laced his words, yet you refused to meet his gaze. “look at the camera babe, c’mon… i wanna treasure this forever. just for me, please?”

“ken—“ you’re cut off by the sudden snap of his pelvis, “this— hngh—“ you moan out, unable to form your words with the pressure quickly building inside you. you try to pry your arm away from his grip to cover your face again— to save whatever dignity you had left after your failed attempt to tire him out.

his lips twist into a mischievous smile, “i’m working so hard for you right now, the least you could do is to let me see you.” his grip on your wrist remains, “look at the fucking camera.”

his words are hypnotic, laced with a hint of frustration and impatience. you involuntarily glance at the phone, seeing yourself on the reflection of the lens. you wrap your hips around his waist to pull him in closer, the creak of the bed frame hitting against the wall combined with both of your moans and gasps and the sound of skin on skin was enough to overwhelm your senses. you weren't too sure what he was up to anymore, but you just needed him closer. he pulls out just enough of him to leave only the tip inside, before angling his hips upward and thrusting back in, bottoming out inside you. Another shock of electricity courses through your body and you wail loudly through a choked sob.

“fuck! just like that!” you arch your back, feeling his tip press flush against that spongy part inside of you. it sends a violent tremor down your thighs, curling your toes into the mattress and your head tossing back against the pillows as your vision goes completely white. 

“ken- kenma, please—“

“yeah? you close already?” he peppers gentle kisses onto your damp skin, the phone soon forgotten as he sets it upright on the nightstand, leaning against a lamp as it continues to record. he uses both his hands to anchor your hips to his as your body begins to grind against him desperately. “i said don’t close your eyes, look at me,” his voice is rough and desperate.

if you had a dick you’d probably be so hard right now.

his breathing is wrecked, a heavy, ragged sound that echoes in the space between your lips as he continued to thrust himself into you, deliberately chasing the frantic, wet heat of your climax. 

“you’re going to make me cum— please, fuck!”

you come undone almost immediately, sobbing his name into the dark room as the ripple of your orgasm spreads throughout your body, your pussy squeezing tightly around him. 

“you’re taking me so well…shit— doing so good for me, baby.” his golden eyes wide, locking on the rise and fall of your chest. your tight, twitching walls completely derails his rhythm. he buries his face into the crook of your neck, sinking deep into you as he reaches his orgasm as well. you feel the sudden, burning heat of him filling you up as he spends the last bit of his energy inside of you. 

for a long minute, the only sound in the room was the overlapping sound of both your breathing.

eventually, his weight goes slack on top of you, his forehead resting against your bruised up shoulders as he pants for air. a soft, breathless huff of laughter leaves his lips against your damp skin. 

“told you,” he wheezes out, yet his voice was dripping with that smug, lazy satisfaction you knew all too well whenever he had finished conquering an incredibly difficult boss fight and was about to brag to you about it. “i won.”

⋆˚࿔ 

the next day, you’re making breakfast as kenma patiently waits sitting by the kitchen island, when you hear an erotic moan play from his phone speaker.

“what was that?” you ask, flipping the egg over on the frying pan.

“my favorite milestone reward,” he says, his eyes still glued to the screen. “you’re so noisy here, god.”

“don’t post that.” 

“hmm, maybe i’ll make it a sub-count.”

@ miripopopo, 2026

i miss kenma so bad can u guys tell i wrote this with one hand

[miripopopo]

guys where is the suna fandom i need yall to come back im Hungry af🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀 fatherbrat ur fwb suna fic will be missed holyyy fuck

[miripopopo]

𑣲 K. KOZUME :: you knew that kenma didn’t have the greatest stamina despite his athletic history, and you decided to take advantage of that. but little did you know that you would be outsmarted in your own game.  ₊˚ʚ (+18) content | switch!kenma x fem!reader, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, slight nipple play, praise, degrading, filming/photographing, overstimulation, both of them r freaks | read at your own risk .ᐟ.ᐟ

you knew that kenma didn’t have the greatest stamina despite his athletic history, and you decided to take advantage of that. but little did you know that you would be outsmarted in your own game. 

the great kodzuken had finally hit that 50 million sub goal, and to celebrate, you had excitedly prepared a home cooked dinner that wafted through the halls of your shared apartment. you had cooked up a creamy pasta and steak, with expensive wine to wash down the flavor. you beamed at every stir of the pasta sauce, eager to celebrate with him.

he ended his celebration stream shortly after, and padded outside of his office towards the kitchen island, and carefully observed as you plated the meal.

“hi kodzu, you’re just in time. i just need a sec to plate.” you focus on the steak in front of you, not turning to face the other man.

he hums, “can’t wait to try it, kitty.”

you roll your eyes at the childish nickname, turning around to set the steak down on the table.

dinner ran smoothly, you greeted him with enthusiastic congratulations and warm words of encouragement, clasping his hands together with his. you had always adored kenma’s humility, despite his massive online presence, he never let it get to his head or ego. he carried the same attitude as he did on screen— quiet, timid, funny— it was ironic on how his lack of charisma eventually followed his rise to fame.

you two decided to keep your relationship mostly private, save for the occasional instagram stories where he would post updates where your hair would just be barely seen in the frame, the reflection of your hand slightly visible on the glass, or a candid photo of you on one of your dates. it was sweet, and it allowed him to set boundaries with his fans, who admired you from a far away.

before you knew it, the plates were licked clean, yet chatter continued to fill the air between you two.

“thank you for dinner, it was really good.” kenma’s eyes look into yours, a subtle smile curling on his lips. his hand snakes behind your head as he  pulls you close, planting a sweet kiss onto your forehead. “you’re the sweetest, you make me so happy.”

he thought that was it, that was his reward for his 50 million sub breakthrough. he didn’t know that you still had something else reserved specially for him. you just smiled into his chest.

“congratulations again, kodzu.”

⋆˚࿔

“haah— fuck, s-slow down…” he pants, hands gripping tightly onto your waist as you rolled your hips onto his, his cock burying itself deeper and deeper into your aching cunt. 

“mm… are you tired already, ken?” you tilt your head, and cup his face with your hands. you look at his golden irises, tinted with desperate want need for you.

all for you.

you continue the momentum, before slightly lifting your hips up to let his dick breathe, then slamming yourself fully down onto him once again. 

“fuck…!” he groans, his grip on you tightening even more— enough to leave a bruise later on.

“you feel so good, kitty…” you lean down to kiss him, licking his lips for access into his mouth, which he pathetically accepts. whore.

he hums into the kiss, slipping his tongue to meet with yours. you can feel the heat basically radiate off of his body, slick with a sheen of sweat.

“you’re— mmh.. such a good boy.” you trail your lips down his chin, to his neck and collarbone. inhaling deeply, and you find the comforting aroma of laundry detergent settling into something dizzying. the smell of melted amber, friction, and the salty musk of his sweat pooling at the dip of his collarbone fill your senses, radiating a feverish heat that you just couldn’t get enough of.

pulling away, you pick up the pace again, rhythmically lifting your hips up and down. you trace your hands lower to his chest, soft whines and moans escaping your lips. you couldn’t exactly recall when you two had started, but you could tell he was reaching his limit. his dick continued to twitch inside you with every bounce you made, and it was tantalizing.

kenma couldn't take it anymore. the constant, agonizing friction was unbearable, overriding his exhaustion completely.

before you could lift your hips again, kenma interrupts you. “wa-wait! wait, stop.” he rasps, pulling you down closer to him once more to catch his breath. your bodies collide with one another, both shiny from the sweat between you two. you hear his unsteady breaths by your ear, his chest heaving as he pants for air. his hand traces the dip of your spine, moving in slow circles til he finally rests them on your lower back.

“let me make you cum— ‘don’t wanna cum first.”

wow. this is quite new.

the kenma you knew was one lazy fuck when it came to sex. always content to just lie back and let you do all the work while he enjoyed the view. not that you minded, you liked doing things for him and making him feel good. you knew exactly how to grind your hips, when to bounce, when to kiss and where to touch him, and you drink up all the noises and movements he makes every time. you would notice the subtle jerk of his hips when he’s about to cum, the bruising grip he would have once his dick was overstimulated, the flush of red that would tint his cheeks when you two would get into it too early.

but your favorite thing to take in would be the pathetic whines and whimpers that got you even wetter at your core.  

so this was new to say the least. did his ego get bigger after hitting that 50 million?

before a sly retort could even slip past your lips, his hands clamp down onto your waist and he thrusts his hips upward, the length of his dick burying deeper into you, tip pressing right against your cervix. 

a loud sob tore from your throat, nails digging crescents into his shoulders for leverage. your spine arches from above him, the sudden change in momentum catching you completely off guard now. 

“my turn, ‘kay?” he says sweetly, adjusting the both of you so that you’re laying comfortably on the bed, and he he settles on top of you.

you whine at the change in position, and he slips himself into you again, the wet squelch of your pussy reverberating through the air. kenma rocks his hips upward with minimal effort, causing the mattress to dip and squeak from the sudden shift. 

you try to regain control— to try and hear those sweet, pathetic whimpers your boyfriend would make again, by pressing you hips closer toward him to take him deeper. yet, your attempt remains futile as his kept his hold on you, pinning you back down onto the bed and forcing you to adjust to his weight. 

he tuts, “don’t try to take over, i told you it’s my turn. you know better than that, don’t you, babe?” 

“‘m sorry, baby…” you pull back, allowing him to take more control of the situation.

“that’s what i thought. keep still.” he continues rocking into you slowly, relishing in the feeling of your pussy accommodating to the shape of his cock. 

“you’re still so tight, did you not stretch yourself out on me enough?” he mocks you, eyes locked on yours as he drove his hips up once again, unbothered by the mewl that left your lips.

you didn’t want to admit it, but you were getting pretty fucked out at this point, eyes hazy and body tired, but you were still determined to wear him out even if you were in a different position now.

“i know what you’re trying to do,” he leans into your ear. “im going to win, you know?”

fuck. he’s so fucking hot.

his palm makes its way to the curve of your breast, squeezing lightly before pinching your nipples in between his thumb and index and giving it an experimental twist. 

“k-ken…” you whine out, who’s getting desperate now? 

his hips began to ram into you with more fervor, and your tears begin to well up in your eyes as you keep taking him in fully.

a low, breathy sound escapes his throat, a sound so rarely heard from him that it sends a fresh wave of electricity straight through your core. 

“look at you,” he massages the flesh in his palms, his thumb stroking over the peak of your tits as he maintains the steady upward thrust of his hips that press against that sweet spot every time. “you look so pretty for me.”

he reaches over to the nightstand with one hand, snagging his phone without staggering his pace. “this is all for me, right? say it.” the screen light illuminates the dimly lit bedroom, reflecting off of his sharp, golden eyes. he opens the camera with a quick swipe, angling the lens down where your bodies meet, recording the slickness of your thighs and the flush painting your skin from your chest up to your cheeks. 

“no– kenma, put that away…” you whine out, embarrassment flushing your cheeks pink as you try to cover your face with your free arm. 

he pauses his thrusts to catch your wrist, and pins you gently back down against the mattress, keeping the camera locked on your figure.

“why? you seemed so proud of yourself earlier,” he says lazily, almost mockingly— with the amount of feign concern that laced his words, yet you refused to meet his gaze. “look at the camera babe, c’mon… i wanna treasure this forever. just for me, please?”

“ken—“ you’re cut off by the sudden snap of his pelvis, “this— hngh—“ you moan out, unable to form your words with the pressure quickly building inside you. you try to pry your arm away from his grip to cover your face again— to save whatever dignity you had left after your failed attempt to tire him out.

his lips twist into a mischievous smile, “i’m working so hard for you right now, the least you could do is to let me see you.” his grip on your wrist remains, “look at the fucking camera.”

his words are hypnotic, laced with a hint of frustration and impatience. you involuntarily glance at the phone, seeing yourself on the reflection of the lens. you wrap your hips around his waist to pull him in closer, the creak of the bed frame hitting against the wall combined with both of your moans and gasps and the sound of skin on skin was enough to overwhelm your senses. you weren't too sure what he was up to anymore, but you just needed him closer. he pulls out just enough of him to leave only the tip inside, before angling his hips upward and thrusting back in, bottoming out inside you. Another shock of electricity courses through your body and you wail loudly through a choked sob.

“fuck! just like that!” you arch your back, feeling his tip press flush against that spongy part inside of you. it sends a violent tremor down your thighs, curling your toes into the mattress and your head tossing back against the pillows as your vision goes completely white. 

“ken- kenma, please—“

“yeah? you close already?” he peppers gentle kisses onto your damp skin, the phone soon forgotten as he sets it upright on the nightstand, leaning against a lamp as it continues to record. he uses both his hands to anchor your hips to his as your body begins to grind against him desperately. “i said don’t close your eyes, look at me,” his voice is rough and desperate.

if you had a dick you’d probably be so hard right now.

his breathing is wrecked, a heavy, ragged sound that echoes in the space between your lips as he continued to thrust himself into you, deliberately chasing the frantic, wet heat of your climax. 

“you’re going to make me cum— please, fuck!”

you come undone almost immediately, sobbing his name into the dark room as the ripple of your orgasm spreads throughout your body, your pussy squeezing tightly around him. 

“you’re taking me so well…shit— doing so good for me, baby.” his golden eyes wide, locking on the rise and fall of your chest. your tight, twitching walls completely derails his rhythm. he buries his face into the crook of your neck, sinking deep into you as he reaches his orgasm as well. you feel the sudden, burning heat of him filling you up as he spends the last bit of his energy inside of you. 

for a long minute, the only sound in the room was the overlapping sound of both your breathing.

eventually, his weight goes slack on top of you, his forehead resting against your bruised up shoulders as he pants for air. a soft, breathless huff of laughter leaves his lips against your damp skin. 

“told you,” he wheezes out, yet his voice was dripping with that smug, lazy satisfaction you knew all too well whenever he had finished conquering an incredibly difficult boss fight and was about to brag to you about it. “i won.”

⋆˚࿔ 

the next day, you’re making breakfast as kenma patiently waits sitting by the kitchen island, when you hear an erotic moan play from his phone speaker.

“what was that?” you ask, flipping the egg over on the frying pan.

“my favorite milestone reward,” he says, his eyes still glued to the screen. “you’re so noisy here, god.”

“don’t post that.” 

“hmm, maybe i’ll make it a sub-count.”

@ miripopopo, 2026

i miss kenma so bad can u guys tell i wrote this with one hand

[ctrlkenma]

☆ I'M GETTING RIPPED TONIGHT, RIP THAT PUSSY!

☆ — summary. the hq boys, and how they work you out ☆

☆ — content warning. f!reader, timeskip, vaginal fingering, oral sex, slight degradation (kenma), bimbofication (kenma), streamer!kenma, streamer!user, pre-established relationships, mature.

☆ — word count. 0.9k.

☆ — includes. kei tsukishima, kenma kozume, ☆

☆ KEI TSUKISHIMA.

The Sendai Frogs exhaust him to no extent. 

Truth be told, they conducted themselves as if they were juniors in high school, the lot of them. If he’d known any better, Kei would’ve thought he was being compensated for chaperoning his team - the designation as a “middle blocker” long forgotten as his time, in lieu, was spent predominantly providing adult supervision for those who missed the memo on maturity.

In spite of the many years he spent pottering in high school volleyball, Tsukishima considered himself to be equipped with the skills needed to start childminding (though, granted, not at such an early age).

In contrast though, Kei, despite the nonchalant facade he upheld that many failed to peer through - found his energy siphoned due to the constant immaturity - to phrase it better, his teammates’ stupid fucking antics - Kyotani’s continuous yelling and Koganegawa’s talkative nature, not to mention their overuse of that annoying, cliched nickname - “tsukki”, which ticked him off even more because it sounded so fucking pathetic if it didn’t come from you.

With volleyball practice feeling more like babysitting than training, Tsukishima was left with a single, solitary outlet through which he could channel his simmering frustration in a relatively healthy way—sex. For Kei, especially, that translated into eating you out, legs sprawled open as you lay on the sofa, exhausted from the constant edging and quite frankly, desperate for an orgasm. 

“Kei…” You beg, lip quivering as you throw your head back, finally being met with the incredible sensation of stimulation onto your clit, his hands prying open your thighs impossibly further, tongue invading your wet entrance as his nose pressed against your core, glasses fogged up from the heat you emanated. 

If Kei died at this moment, he’d leave a happy man.

At last, those sweet, saccharine words bless his ears as if they were a long awaited lullaby - a broken, hushed cry of the epithet, “T-Tsukki!”, which, really, as all it took for Tsukishima to come undone, lapping up at your sweet release as he finally drags down his boxers, providing some much needed oxygen to his erection, which would finally be met with sweet relief once plunged inside your warmth. 

☆ KENMA KOZUME.

There was, perhaps, nothing in this world Kenma Kozume abhorred more than fanmeets.

They wore him out, unnecessarily so, as all it required was to sit still in a chair and talk hours on end about the importance of gaming to the community and whatnot at a fucking twitch panel, as if Kenma’s job didn’t just consist of streaming whenever he felt like playing on his PC.

The job was rewarding, yes, but it was just as time-consuming and annoying, despite the income it may have generated. Being under the constant, watchful eye of anonymous users and being under public scrutiny served as an added bonus (read: sarcasm) to fuel his ever-thriving ego.

It didn't help that you were in the same boat as him - sitting in front of a screen 25/8, bimbofied for all to see. That, perhaps, and seeing you be unceasingly sexualized perhaps replaced his hatred for public speaking and social interaction, dethroning it from the top spot. Honestly, how much lower could your audience stoop? As if having thirst traps be made of him over the littlest things weren’t enough, he now had to endure the thousands of fans you boasted as you sat next to him on that very panel. 

And so, you found yourself being pushed against the wall by a very sweaty, excessively worn out, and an extremely hormonal Kenma. 

“Ken, what are you-,” you started, but he cut you off with a soft “shh,” his hand reaching to latch the door, locking it with a soft click!

“You liked them looking, didn’t you?” His voice was a low growl against your neck, possessive. He pressed wet, insistent kisses to your skin as his hands slid down, a slow, deliberate exploration before he roughly shoved your panties down to your ankles. He didn't hesitate, his fingers plunging deep inside you, slick with your immediate arousal. The sound was wet and messy, a stark contrast to the sterile environment. “You fucking loved the attention, didn’t you? Look at this mess,” he muttered, his fingers churning within you, pulling apart your folds, smearing your slickness across your skin. “So fucking wet for them.” His taunt was a breath away from your lips as he captured them in a hard, wet kiss, his fingers inside you now pumping with a brutal, uneven rhythm.

You gasped, a choked sound as your hips instinctively bucked against his hand. Kenma’s fingers were relentless, stretching you, exploring every ridge with a rough possessiveness. He slid in another finger, forcing you wider, the wet sounds echoing in the small room. He began to fist you, his knuckles pressing deep, his movements almost violent as he filled you completely. It was rather animalistic, sloppy, and undeniably intimate, unlike the secretive, vanilla moments you shared with Kenma, in the quiet of your bedroom. He moved within you like he was trying to claim every inch, his grip tight and demanding. Just like getting that perfect S+ on 1980’s mode in Yandere Simulator – precise, brutal, and utterly focused.

“Tell me their eyes on you meant nothing,” he grunted, his thumb pressing hard against your swollen clit, grinding against it as his fingers continued their brutal work inside. You cried out, your body arching, the sensations too intense, too raw. He continued, his fingers a slick, messy whirlwind within you, until your muscles clenched around his hand, a shuddering orgasm ripping through you. The sounds were wet - desperate, rather, a testament to his forceful invasion.

Kenma held you pinned, his fingers still buried deep, feeling the violent tremors of your release. “Still think they deserved to look?” he whispered, his voice thick with a possessive hunger, frown replaced with a mocking smirk painted across his face, hands now soaked in the aftermath of your orgasm.

©ctrlkenma, 2025. no redistribution, translation or plagiarism is authorized.

[ctrlkenma]

AND I'MMA MAKE HER TAPOUT! ☆

✦ f!reader, post timeskip, kenma is quite the horny fella, suggestive, explicit content.

KOZUME KENMA has insane stamina.

And he doesn't seem like it. Truly, he doesn't. After all, (and not to be stereotypical), but what could you expect of a twenty-two year old who's leisure time was spent playing 'vintage' video games and streaming it for thousands to see?

You definitely didn’t expect that right after those streams ended, he’d have you bent over his gaming desk, just inches away from a small Genshin Impact figurine. You turn around, your cheeks flushing a sweet, saccharine hue of scarlet as he cups your ass from behind, his hands firm and possessive.

The air is thick with tension, sexually charged, rather, as you feel his body heat radiating against you. Every breath you take is heavy with anticipation, and the way he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, sends a shiver down your spine. You can sense his desire, raw and palpable, and it makes your heart race. You’re completely at his mercy, craving every moment as he prepares to take you right there, the thrill of being so exposed only heightening the intensity between you.

No, Kenma is not just another boyfriend of yours you've had sex with. Kenma is an absolute fucking beast - and by the time you're on your third round, covered in his opalescent seed and dripping with perspiration (you're not sure who's it is), that very fact is made abundantly clear to you.

Kenma also isn’t shy about what he wants. He’d rather have you sitting on his face, completely lost in the taste of you. As he laps at your clit, he gets more and more pussy-drunk, his moans vibrating against the slick that covers his fave deliciously. Your muffled compliments only serve to fuel the desire within him, and he’s all in, ready to make you feel every bit of pleasure he can give. It’s raw, intense, and he’s determined to have you begging for more.

You're not exactly sure why he has such superhuman capabilities when it comes to sex. Perhaps, years of pulling all-nighters has finally translated into something good - that being the rather annoying ability to never get tired whilst he pounds his pretty, flushed tip into you, getting the angle just right, hitting you right where you want him.

No, actually. He hits it right where you need him. Because sex with Kenma has translated from something that started off with a few kisses into a ritual you're quite certain you can't live without.

You’d lose yourself in the heat of three rounds—four if the mood struck just right. Kenma would pause, a playful glint in his eyes as he reached for a bottle of strawberry-flavored lubricant from his side-table. With a teasing squirt, he coated your stomach, the slick, sweet substance glistening against your skin.

His fingers danced over you, massaging the lubricant in with a tantalizing pressure that sent electric shivers through your body. Each stroke was a delicious tease, trailing dangerously low, igniting a primal hunger within you. The air thickened with the scent of strawberries and coitus, as his touch turned your skin into a playground of pleasure, leaving you breathless and craving more.

The bottle spits its last, the slick gone, but you don’t stop - not until your body’s shaking, breath stuttering, chasing that high like it's the only thing that’s ever truly undone you. You’re soaked in heat, legs weak, stars bursting behind your eyes. And just when you're about to tapout, that voice cuts through - deep, filthy, smug - dragging out the words that ruin you - but make you crave it all over again.

"Just one more round, baby?"

[lucidsei]

18+ you missed suna too much . . . ❤︎

it’s been four months since you broke up with suna rintaro. four months since you’ve cut ties, went no contact, and even avoided any gatherings with mutual friends. all that effort for four months just to end up in his bedroom, pinned under him, screaming his name again.

“aah—fuck, rin! nnngh—slow down—“ you gasped, body jolting forward with every snap of his hips. your back arched off the sheets, nails digging into his shoulders as he pounded into you relentlessly, every drag of his cock against your velvet walls sending sensations throughout your body. “you’re clenching so hard for someone who hates me.” he murmured against your neck, trailing his kisses all the way to your jawline. “thought you were avoiding me, what happened? missed me that bad?”

“n—no—unngh fuck—!” tears slipped from the corner of your eyes, vision blurring with every sharp thrust. you refused to admit it, but you hadn’t been stretched out this good for a while and god, you forgot how addictive it was having him inside you. “no? really?” he mocked, pulling back just enough to leave his tip in before slamming back into you in one harsh thrust. “listen to yourself, baby. your pussy’s dripping all over my cock, and you’re saying you don’t miss me?”

his pace was brutal and merciless — tip punishing your cervix with every collision of his hips against your ass, punching the air out of you. every brush of his blunt head against your sweet spot had you squirming under him, your moans turning into incoherent sobs. he’s fucking you hard, making you cry out his name as he leaned down, lips brushing against your ear before murmuring, “crying my name like that.. this is what you call hate? sure doesn’t fucking sound like it.”

every word that left his lips left a sting, stirring up forgotten feelings and something like need, something like desperation — an ache that you refused to name. “haah—rin—please.. want you—“ you choked out, cheeks flushed and expression dazed as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close. “hm? what is it? say it louder f’me, baby.”

“mmnghh—need you, rin! stop teasin—“ he shut you up with a kiss, tongues entwining as if speaking an unspoken language, swallowing every moan as he bullied your aching cunt. with a loud mewl of his name, your walls spasmed around his length, squeezing him so tight he could barely move. “fuuuck, baby. squeezin’ me like that.” he grunted, forcing your legs apart with his hips as he watched you soak the sheets, still rutting into you ruthlessly. “look at you, so fucking messy.”

“mmmnghh—aah—too much—can’t take anymore!” your body was convulsing under him now, breathless gasps replacing your cries. “just a little more, baby. you can take it, can’t you?” he said, breaths turning shallow as his hips jerked erratically against you. every whine of his name had his cock throbbing and twitching, feeling the familiar strain his lower abdomen before he let go, filling you to the brim.

“shiiit—this pussy’s mine, okay?” he growled, fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs. he pulled out slowly, watching him cum leak out of you before tilting your chin up so your gaze met his. “no one else can fuck you like this, don’t forget it.”

© lucidsei

[crushmeeren]

⋆ cw ; sex, fem! reader, rin’s ability to say something ridiculous no matter the situation.

Rin taps his foot when he’s about to cum.

It’s a habit. One he’s not aware of. For the longest time it slipped under your radar too. The only moments you would’ve been able to notice it, a.k.a. riding him or sucking him off — are spent focused on the cock inside you.

One night, in the master bedroom, Rin’s pinned you to the wall. Palms braced on the smooth surface, ass pushed out to arch your back. He’d started out by clutching your hips, thumbs flexing and digging into your skin every few lazy thrusts.

“Rin,” you moan, breathless. “Right there — fuck, right there!”

His hips smack even louder against your ass with the next thrust, cock hitting your g-spot. Rin pants and laughs. “Right there Rin, right there!” He teases as he slips an arm around your stomach, bending to press his warm sweaty chest to your back. His other hand comes up to rest on the wall nearby.

Your head drops between your shoulders, the mocking sending a hot rush up your spine. Toes curling in your socks. “You’re gonna make me cum, Rin,” you whine, pussy tightening.

Rin moans deep in his throat. “Fuck me,” he says through his teeth. “Play with yourself babygirl, wanna feel you cum.”

It’s instant, the way your fingers fly to your clit. Rubbing tight, fast circles, pussy squeezing and releasing over and over. Rin’s breath hitches then blows out warmly over your neck.

Your eyes start to roll and then flicker towards the floor, catching Rin’s sock covered foot tapping in a steady rhythm, almost silent on the hardwood floor.

Mind numbing, syrupy warmth rushes through your limbs, lower belly knotting up. The force of it brings you to your toes, your husband’s name falling from your lips.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” Rin babbles, voice splintering as his foot taps faster. You’re sinking down to the balls of your feet when Rin thrusts again and stops, grinding his hips hard. His cock throbs as he cums, an overheated forehead resting on your shoulder.

Five, ten, however many minutes later, as you’re cuddled in bed, you remember.

“Your foot taps when you’re about to cum, Rin. Like a bunny. Did you know that?”

He doesn’t move, boneless in the sheets. Naked as the day he was born. “I mean, I was fucking you like a rabbit.”

Rin laughs as he’s smothered with a pillow.

master list

[chrisssiren]

AMIMATED LINE DIVIDERS — PT. 1

⟢ well... i don't know if i like these or not

⟢ part two

BLUEBERRY

LAVENDER HAZE

STRAWBERRY && CREAM

⟢ Like/reblog if you use.

⟢ Credit is not necessary (but it’s appreciated).

[claudialynq]

Sukuna with the "challengers" trend!!

[yotume]

The Downers👨‍🎤

[to00fu]

i just made some bulllllshiitttttt

[bwounces]

surfer!suguru 🌊🐉

[aurabirds]

I keep forgetting to post to tumblr but I think y'all will like this one~

[ttakdoll]

꩜ – FRAT PRESIDENT SATORU GOJO (and the shy girl he's obsessed with!)

(18+) HEADCANONS :: – frat!gojo x innocent!reader, college au, smut, dom!gojo, handjobs, praise, corruption kink, manipulative behavior, slight dub-con

frat president!satoru, who’s used to every type of girl at his party except you, all big eyes, wandering around his house like you didn’t know what to do. he’s asked suguru to offer you everything under the sun in the last thirty or so minutes — a drink, a smoke, a joint. you just politely decline, shaking your head so prettily.

frat president!satoru, who swears he’s just got an ego when he decides he’ll be the one to show you all of that and more. he could do it if suguru couldn’t, if no one else could.

he starts off all nice, walking you to all your classes, offering his sweaters in the lectures you had together (which he only started attending for you), buying you lunch and listening to your cute little rants about your worst profs.

frat president!satoru learns that you like being held when he’s the first one to find you after an exam you swear you’d failed. he doesn’t get it ‘til he’d realized your eyes are all glassy, so shiny as you peered up at him with wobbling lips, trying not to cry in front of him.

frat president!satoru loves the way you’d just melted into his arms after that. he calls you easy to his friends for it, but something inside him never wants to let go whenever you’re willing to press yourself into his chest, wherever you’re willing to do it.

frat president!satoru, who asks you what you’re wearing all the time and sends even prettier things to wear to your dorm when he thinks you can do better.

frat president!satoru, who’s spiraling at night, jerking off to your contact photo, wrapping his large hand around his dick and pretending like it’s that sweet mouth of yours engulfing his length. he imagines how shy you’d be, lips parted wide, smearing pre-cum and replacing your candy lip balm. he wants you tasting like him, those soft cheeks drenched in his cum, eyes screwed shut until he’s all you can think about.

frat president!satoru likes making you need him, doting on you and driving you around like a princess, spoiling you until you frown whenever his hand isn’t on your hip, or whenever he dodges your calls for fraternity meetings. he likes the idea that you might become obsessed with him (like he is with you). 

frat president!satoru, who’s grinning cruelly the minute you finally tell him, “you know, you do so much for me, I feel like I’m not doing enough for you.” in that small little voice of yours one day, while you’re tucked into his side at your apartment.

frat president!satoru, who’s never missed a meeting or a call until that day, when he’s finally got you whimpering shyly in his lap while he gently mouths at your neck, tasting that perfume he’s been searching online for for weeks, whispering about how he’s so grateful you wanna help him out, how sweet you are for making it up to him too even when you didn't have to.

but he’s been waiting for weeks, you’re all soft and impressionable on him, and he’s not letting a moment of your kindness go to waste.

frat president!satoru guides you with a husky voice when he teaches you to spit in your own palm and  wrap your smaller hand around his cock, nearly shivering at the contact  — “make me feel good, pretty girl, it’s the least you can do.”

frat president!satoru, who just chuckles at the fact that you’re all nervous, looking up at him as if asking what to do next, just for him to wrap his palm around yours, engulfing it entirely. he groans lowly as he moves your palm up and down on his already-hard length, bottom lip catching between his teeth at how warm your hand feels against his dick.

“shit, just keep it like that, baby, up and down…”

frat president!satoru, who kisses you slow when you gasp at how he bucks up into your hand, keeping his own wrapped around it while desperately attempting not to just use you, jerk himself off with your tiny little fingers, maneuver you down and slam himself deep into your tight cunt. “hah — fuck, gorgeous, y— you’re good at this, huh? so good for me, so fucking cute…”

“i’ve never done this before,” you admit into frat president!satoru’s mouth, hushed and breathy like it’s a secret. he wants to fucking laugh, but he’s cut short by a low hiss as you thumb at his slit without him having to teach you, making him lose his mind piece by piece. shit, you’re just perfect, aren’t you? 

“am — am I doing okay, satoru?” 

frat president!satoru has nearly had enough of patience when you say that. shit, he bites down into your lip without even realizing, hand tightening around yours when you whimper. and it’s barely enough to notice at first, but he pumps your hand around him faster, growling into your mouth at the way your fingertips flex around his length, making a slick! sound that echoes across the room.

“you’re — shit, just like that — doing perfect, baby. so perfect.” frat president!satoru groans into your throat, even though he’s using your hand like a fuck toy now, smearing his own pre-cum mixed with your saliva all over his huge dick, bucking his hips up into your plush skin like a glorified fleshlight.

the only one he’s dreamed of in the past few weeks, at least.

frat president!satoru gets off on how eager you are to match his pace, his other hand cupping your cheeks to purse your pretty mouth open for him as he spits down your throat and relishes in your confused little whine. he doesn’t even realize how tightly he’s gripping your hand now, forcing you to jerk his cock faster.

“that’s it,” he pants into your lips, “just let me have you, okay? hah— so good, shit, you’ve been wanting this too, haven’t you?”

“satoru—” your voice is a wet dream, how it feathers off around the edges and breaks like you’re not sure.

frat president!satoru groans at the sound of your confusion. “been, fuck, thinking about this, baby. want you creaming on my cock next, yeah? or maybe it’s — haah! — too big for your first time. gotta — shit — prep you first.”

frat president!satoru spills into your hand with one last rough stroke of both your hands around his length, gasping low with his tongue down your throat as he finally lets your hand go. he watches the way your palm shakes, eyes dark, lifting your cum-covered fingertips to your mouth without thinking. and he thinks you won’t do it, until—

your sweet fucking tongue darts out to lick experimentally at your own fingers, and satoru thinks he’s gone to heaven.

frat president!satoru, who can’t help himself when he’s grabbing you by the waist now, laying you flat on your back and coming up to slot his knee between your thighs, committing the way your face scrunches up in both confusion and pleasure to memory. he thinks you’re the cutest fucking thing in the world, and he wants you broken in every way possible until you can’t fuck any other guy without imagining his dick. 

“thank you, baby,” he grins against your neck. “can i make you feel good now?”

frat president!satoru, who decided he’d never let you fuck anyone else anyways the moment you'd nodded.

@ ttakdoll, 2026

inspired by an anon request for a shy reader!!

[ttakdoll]

꩜ – SATORU GOJO :: fratjo and his curated instagram profile!

(18+) :: content – frat!gojo x fem!reader, college au, smut, dom!gojo, p in v, missionary, kind of exhibitionism (?), taking pictures

part one!

“why don’t you like posting me?”

you only asked this because you’ve noticed something about your now-boyfriend, frat!gojo’s, instagram profile.

he posts parties. posts him at the gym with his friends. fuck, he even posts himself at the library sometimes. but satoru just won’t post you.

you understood at first, sure; after the first night at his place, when you’d ended up dating, you’d quickly learned how prized of a possession that instagram account was to him. he loved making everything scenic, talked about story highlights and grid covers like they were meticulous, and would never post anything remotely uncharacteristic — not even for you. 

it’s easy to understand when all you two do for the first few months is watch movies in his apartment (and have sex) and study together, because there’s hardly anything scenic about textbooks and spilled popcorn.

but then satoru starts going harder — he takes you out to fancy dinners, the kind with candlelight and dishes you can’t pronounce, takes you to the amusement park, takes you out to markets with cute little analog photobooth studios.

they’re the kind of dates that irritating couples would plaster all over their stories, rubbing it in the faces of anyone who’d care to click. in fact, they’re the kind of people you’d make fun of — that is, before you found yourself longing to be immortalized in satoru’s infamously curated instagram profile.

seriously. 

all those dates, all that money your boyfriend spends on you, and you don’t even get a candid shot on his stories? preposterous.

“do I ruin your aesthetic?” you scoff at him one day while you two are attempting to have lunch together in his apartment, dropping your chopsticks onto the bowl dramatically. “are you ashamed of me?”

satoru’s eyes widen comically, pausing in between bites of noodles, before shaking his head profusely. “well, of course not? you’re gorgeous.”

“not gorgeous enough for your main account.”

“don’t be like that,” the white-haired man groans, pushing his glasses up into his hair with one hand while the other attempts to hold yours under the table, as if reminding you how sweet and perfect he is otherwise would get him out of this mess. and satoru just frowns as you tug your hand away, shaking his head and trying to meet your defiant gaze. “it’s not that i don’t want to. i mean, i kind of don’t want to, but it’s not what you’re thinking—”

you gasp. it’s an outrage. “you don’t want to?”

he clicks his tongue. “baby, that’s not what i—”

“you take so many photos of me,” the inside of your cheek catches between your teeth, head turning up like a child refusing to eat their vegetables. “i know you do. on my phone, too. and you have so many good ones to choose from, so i wonder why the furthest I’ll ever make it is the dump account—”

“i don’t post you there either.” satoru mumbles under his breath.

“— see what i mean?” a huff escapes your lips. your eyes narrow, head finally snapping back to your sorry-ass boyfriend, who’s taken to tilting his head at you, eyeing you with some amalgamation of frustration and glimmering amusement. you ignore it for the greater good. “do you want more pictures? is that what you want?”

“i just don’t—”

you click your tongue, raising a finger as if you already knew what he was going to say (and what you think he’s going to say is actually the farthest from it, but whatever). “save it. i’m not holding a conversation with you until you post me.”

satoru tilts his head.

blinks once. and has the audacity to blink twice before realizing that once you’ve turned your nose up at him, it was going to be absolutely impossible to get you to change your  mind. he sees that — and doesn’t believe it.

“just eat your noodles,” the white-haired man shakes his lead, a tiny laugh falling from his lips. 

“you’d miss me too much.”

clearly, satoru’s severely underestimated your willpower. clearly, he doesn’t believe in your ability to extend the silent treatment. because two weeks into this stupid argument (if you could even call it that), satoru’s exhausted every trick in the book, all for your conversations to still look like this from the past few days:

satoru: babe babyyy 

satoru: i bought sushi salmon nigiri and the entire set the entire menu actually  ifff someone wants to come over ;)

satoru: HELP BABY im drowning tjeres no lifeguard need u to saveme  HRLPPP IM GOIGNUNDERR

satoru: nvm im safe dw :(

satoru: if i call will u pick up satoru: [1 missed video call]

you: [5 attachments] first two for story, last three for post

satoru: COME ON

for you, it’s absolute war — you haven’t been over to satoru’s frat house nor any of his apartments in weeks, and despite the loss of free meals and good sex, you still feel like you have something to prove. for god’s sake, you’ve sent him nearly a hundred bombshell photos of yourself to your own boyfriend in the past two weeks, and he still hasn’t worshipped you on his precious fucking main account?

does he really want to do this or not?

however, satoru’s fed up and most definitely not backing down; he fucking misses you. misses how his laundry would go missing because you liked his so-called nerd hoodies better than he did. his closet is just too full and too organized. his bedsheets are way too made. he’ll go days without having anyone push his glasses up for him and be brought close to tears.

besides, satoru’s come to get you pretty well, and between you and your feud with his instagram profile, there’s a chance he might get you to relent if he cuts you a good enough deal.

so, surely enough, all it really takes?

satoru: photoshoot. come over now best 3 pics get storied

you’re at your boyfriend’s door within minutes.

and you’ve come with what you think is an aura of menace: you’ve worn something hot, something blue, something aesthetically pleasing that would shine like diamonds on a social media feed, makeup done to the actual gods. it’s so overdone that there was no way you wouldn’t be in control here.

until satoru leads you to his bedroom and locks the door. until he eyes you once — twice — and sweetly asks you to get on the bed. 

⭑.ᐟ

for a while, you think you’ve been duped.

it’s only a matter of minutes until the frat boy has your back pressed up against his pillows, tangled up in his bedsheets with your legs wrapped around his waist as he eases his huge cock into you. your eyes screw shut, lips parting open, all swollen and split-slicked, the perfect picture to encapsulate the sinful sounds radiating throughout his bedroom.

and satoru drinks in your expression with a low groan, teeth scraping at your jawline as he presses himself down into your chest, letting your entrance adjust to that big stretch.

“that’s it — hah, fuck, so tight — baby,” satoru gasps out into your skin. “keep making those pretty little faces for me, okay?”

your voice is a whimper, eyes all hazy as he rolls his hips into you as if claiming your insides. “ngh, satoru,”

“shit.” he laughs hoarsely, eyes darting from your bruised and bitten lips, the red and purple blooming across your neck, the way your mouth parted all glossy with both of your saliva — how you scrunched your gorgeous little nose up with every brush of his leaking tip against your cervix. “god, you’re gorgeous. wanna show off — fuck — for everyone, huh?”

it goes in one ear and out the other, your mind instead choosing to focus on digging your nails into his back tighter, hips chasing his fat cock, lifting off of the bed as if chasing the friction of him dragging against your sensitive inner walls.

satoru just chuckles, no stranger to the way you clench deliciously around him, making sure you’re soaking his dick and absolutely drunk on it.

“that’s okay, gorgeous,” the frat boy whispers, letting out a rough exhale as he uses one hand to pin your arm to the pillows and steady his thrusts. “just be nice and pretty for me.”

and then satoru pulls out, so cruelly that it has you whining, as if he’s savoring the way his tip teases every single nerve ending inside you. you’re pawing at his back as if it’ll bring him back.

“mnh,” you hum, dazed as you attempt to glare at him — although it doesn’t really do much when satoru just laughs, a little further away for a second before his weight rests back on top of you.

“yes?”

“satoru— ngh!”

you see stars when your boyfriend just coos, right before pounding back into you so deep that your thighs shake, eyes rolling back in your head, jaw falling slack. drool pools at the corner of your kiss-bitten lips, your hand gripping his skin so tight it may scar. and you’re so fucking cockdrunk that you don’t see it coming when he just—

click!

his phone camera.

“wha— hah— huh?”

you’re caught between a cry and a confused little hum, and you have half a mind to chew your pretty (stupid) boyfriend out for clicking his tongue, ignoring your confusion to snap his hips into you harder, as if bruising your cervix and making you scream would do anything. then he’s cupping your face, squishing your cheeks, and posing you for another picture.

click!

“hah,” he grits out, eyes darker now as he fucks back into you faster, just to watch your lips go wet. “my little model. wanted — shit! — this so bad, didn’t you? want me to show everyone how perfect you are?”

“satoru—”

“you even sound pretty,” you don’t even realize how reverent his voice sounds, hips erratic as satoru sinks into you with something reckless, as if trying to claim something without even realizing it. and all you can do is keen, head nestled against the pillows, hands just as claiming on his skin as he lets you scratch him up. he chuckles into your ear, making you shiver. “should i take a video too? voice note?”

“satoru,” you blink up at him almost tearily and feel the way his hips jerk. “fuck — just— just keep going, please,”

god, you look pretty, you sound pretty, you beg pretty.

you’re telling him to keep going as if he would ever stop.

click!

“so sweet,” satoru mumbles, phone pressing against your neck as he stumbles forward and shoves his tongue past your lips to taste that voice of yours in your filthy throat. “can’t let anyone else see this — hah. too good for my stories.”

you barely hear it, but that lovesick tone has you gushing around his cock. the filthy slap of skin has your entire body hot, flames in your fingertips as they leave his back and find his chest.

“yeah?” is all you manage to gasp out in response before he groans and plants those glossed lips back onto yours.

“yeah.” he mumbles hotly into your mouth. “your pictures are — ngh — all fucking mine, baby.”

satoru’s thrusts turn almost desperate, thick cock twitching inside you erratically with each delectable thrust, with each kiss of his fat tip deep inside of you. and when he prods at your g-spot, your body lights on fire, back arching into his chest, lodging his tongue deeper into your throat and making you scream.

“fuck!” you cry out, drool all messy against his lips as he laughs against you. “satoru, shit, right there—”

he clicks his tongue, the next thrust so close, but just not deep enough. “right where?”

you’re on the edge. your stomach is tight, skin hot, eyes almost bleary enough that you get desperate enough to beg. to babble out his name. you’re half-dumb on satoru’s giant cock, and he’s still deciding to be an asshole.

you suck up your pride and exhale, that breath so sweet it makes something hitch in satoru’s throat.

“more, please,” you whisper against his lips. “need it. need you.”

he just grins, just as drunk on you as you are on him.  “say that again?”

“please.” you cry out this time, fingers skimming his neck, trailing across, worshipping his skin, mapping out where you’d press your lips and leave marks on him. blinking up at satoru, your thighs shake around where he’s gone slower, shallowly pushing into you, leaving your aching pussy half-clenching around nothing and waiting for him. “please, i need more, just fuck me properly, satoru—”

click!

“that one’s just for me.” satoru murmurs. “just like seeing you beg.”

at this rate, they’re all just for him.

but he’s picking up the pace now, punching the air out of you as he suddenly slams himself all the way in, prodding at your g-spot so perfectly at every single thrust. satoru sucks on your bottom lip, pulling at it with his teeth just to hear you whine for him, his own breaths turning ragged with the way your cunt wraps around him like a vice.

deftly, his fingertips trail low, pace never faltering, before those same fingertips tease at your nipple, pressing a thumb against your tit, making your skin prick and your stomach tighten.

you’re overwhelmed with the pleasure coming from all ends, your moans almost symphonic, little broken off breaths of satoru’s name. “ah— hah, satoru, so—”

“so fucking perfect,” satoru rasps against your neck, mouth latching onto your jawline. “no one else gets this.”

“mmh!” your voice is a filthy gasp as he pinches your nipple.

“no one gets — fuck, too tight — to see you like this,” the white-haired man worships against your jawline, mouthing little bruises into your skin. “no one else gets to see you cum.”

his thrusts are erratic now, frantically chasing the high both of you were inching towards. “satoru, please, so close — ngh—”

“yeah?” he pants out, pressing the cold metal of the phone tighter against your neck as he slams his hips into you over and over again, determined to make you cream on his cock. “go on, pretty girl. use me.”

“shit, baby — please, it’s so—” you’re nearly crying now, and satoru lifts his thumb to smear the drool across the corners of your lips before slamming his mouth down onto yours. and he’s hungry, gasping and groaning into your throat, letting you swallow him whole. and your boyfriend’s ripping at the seams, desperate to fill you up, to feel you cum, to fuck you dumb until you’re all his.

satoru whines now as you clench tighter around his dick with every rapid thrust. “fuck. love you so much, you’re so pretty, shit—”

the words have you crying out, stars behind your eyes as you gush on his cock, soaking him all the way. and at the same time, he buries himself deep into your messy cunt and cums, white-hot seed spilling against your cervix, filling every inch of you, leaking out of your sensitive hole. it’s smearing all across your pussy lips, marking you and leaving you glistening with him. 

it’s filthy, the mess of hot gasps and saliva between your lips and the lingering smell of sex in the air as satoru’s head falls forward against your shoulder for a moment.

you’re basking in the bliss, hair splayed out across a sea of silk pillowcase, eyes half-lidded and cloudy with the haze of your orgasm, lips parted and inhaling slowly, attempting to catch your breath. there’s a slight sheen of sweat beading across your skin, casting something almost ethereal across your face.

it’s tranquil, for something after sex. quiet. and almost—

click!

perfect.

your eyes narrow, blinking away the fog as you glance up at your boyfriend, whose gaze is trained on the mess of slick where his dick is buried inside you as if mesmerized, and who’s just snapped a picture of you in your post-fuck reverie. 

“you’re —” a small exhale passes your lips. “are you actually posting those?”

a pause. 

satoru’s lips slowly upturn into a lazy grin.

he ends up posting nearly ten stories for his newest highlight that day — nine are public, just old photos from old dates, which you’d picked out yourself. he’d taken you on a picnic and snapped a candid of you while you were unpacking the food, a few photobooth strips of you two, a few selfies of his lips pressed to your cheek.

no one bats an eye.

the last one – his favorite – is on satoru’s close friends. 

because it's just for him, really. zoomed in, parted lips, bleary eyes, a flash of bare skin, and the sound of you cumming that only he will ever hear when he sees it.

@ ttakdoll, 2026

for all those who wanted a part 2!

[jj0pochka]

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