when ino had asked nanami for relationship advice, he didn’t envision an in-person demonstration.
ino sat beside you on your bed while nanami loosened his tie in front of you. the air felt cold on your exposed skin. you were wearing nothing but one of ino’s shirts and your panties.
“lay down, sweetheart. try to relax.” nanami gently pushed you down onto the pillow, your head perpendicular to ino. he slowly lifted your shirt, exposing your peaked nipples and causing both men to harden even more at the sight. “you can keep these on for now.” nanami ran his fingers along the lace border of your panties. “ino, are you watching? it’s important to start slowly.”
between your breasts, nanami placed a small kiss. his calloused fingers gently ran over your left nipple, sending a shiver down your spine. “is this okay?” you nodded shyly, gazing at ino, who was practically drooling. nanami’s tongue grazed your right nipple, followed by a tug and soft bite. you furrowed your brows at the sensation and let out of a soft moan, confirming to both men that this was more than okay.
“like i said, you can’t rush this part,” nanami murmured. “your partner should come at least two or three times before you do. on your fingers, tongue, face, whatever. got it?”
ino nodded quickly, his face reddening by the second. the bulge in his pants was ever so visible. his eyes followed down your naked torso, down to where nanami was slowly kissing down your abdomen. when he reached your panties, he noted the growing wet spot. “wet before we even got here, good. ino, this is how it always should be.” you let out a pleasured sigh as he dragged his tongue across your clothed slit, slowly, making sure his pupil watched him. you instinctively bucked your hips up to his face, your body asking for more. “you want more, honey?”
“y-yes…” you mewled. the older man smirked as he pushed your panties to the side, revealing your slick folds. nanami’s tongue and lips connected with your clit like a passionate kiss, suckling and caressing you. you let out a breathy moan; ino absentmindedly palmed his bulge, mesmerized at the sight.
“when you do this, use your fingers too.” nanami slid two digits into your needy pussy, earning an almost pornographic squelch. “you know where the g-spot is, right ino? two to three inches up the north wall. make sure to hit there. you’ll know when you do.” nanami demonstrated, instantly causing you to arch your back and hiss in pleasure. “it’s important to do both these things at once.” he continued his makeout session with your pussy while slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you.
“hngh…ino…” you moaned. your boyfriend stared at you with wide, glassy eyes. his tip leaked at the sight of you moaning his name while you were being pleasured by nanami. you reached for ino’s cock through his pants. instinctively, he turned to nanami, as if to ask his permission.
nanami lifted his head from between your legs. “go ahead. keep her mouth full, she’s probably about to scream.” ino eagerly pulled the band of his sweatpants down, his freed cock hitting his stomach. you craned your neck to give him a soft lick up his shaft, taking in the salty precum leaking from his tip. ino groaned loudly, his hand tangling in your hair.
“don’t get too distracted yet. when you’re fingering, you should build up the pace gradually. have you ever seen a woman squirt before?” nanami narrowed his eyes as he sat up, his fingers still buried in you. “it helps to press on the lower stomach.” he demonstrated the action, causing you to feel the pleasure even more deeply. you moaned with ino’s cock still in your mouth, drool leaking out the side and onto the pillow. nanami’s pace quickened, fucking you with his fingers faster and harder.
you took your boyfriend’s dick even deeper down your throat, earning a hiss from him as he watched nanami’s demonstration through half-lidded eyes. the combination of ino’s cock making you gag and nanami’s fast pace cause you to contract, liquid spurting from your cunt and onto nanami. he kept up his pace, adjusting his hand so that his thumb rubbed over your clit as he fucked you.
a long moan escaped your throat. you slid ino out of your mouth, continuing to stroke him while you arched your back and grinded into nanami’s hand.
“f-fuck princess, you want to do that for me too?” ino said, almost in a whisper. his grip on your hair tightened, pulling your hair back. he tentatively brought his free hand to your throat, gently squeezing the sides near your ears. your pussy clenched around nanami’s fingers at the sensation.
“hm, she likes that.” nanami groaned. “keep going.” his thumb circled over your hardened clit. “ino, see how her legs twitch when i rub here? that means she’s close.” he smirked devilishly, increasing the pace of the circles he rubbed around your hardened bud. the pleasure building in your body began to overflow. your grip around ino’s cock tightened, your cunt clenching hard around nanami’s fingers that remained inside of you. he continued to stroke inside of you while you orgasmed, prolonging the feeling and drawing a loud moan from you.
that sent ino over the edge. the warm ropes of cum painted your face, still contorted in pleasure. “hngh..y/n…fuck, nanami said you should’ve came two or three times before me…” he babbled.
nanami stood up, watching you both pant and recover. “you have time to learn, ino. i still have more to show you. gather yourself.” he unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants down enough to reveal his hardened, veiny cock. “you ready for another lesson?”
a/n: i had this idea but im still so ass at writing. ts isn’t proofread 😔 i hope yall still see the vision. enjoy my gooner thoughts about ino and nanami
Warnings: NSFW🔞, inmate!Sukuna, anal sex, reader is Sukuna’s prison bitch, he uses you like a toy, reader is a fem woman disguised as a man in prison, power play, dub con-ish (he’s quite rough), overstimulation, idk this is a very long fic
The guard guiding you to your cell snorts when you ask if you’ll have your own space. You can’t exactly explain to him that you’re a woman disguised as a man and need your privacy. Perhaps you’re in over your head.
You gulp as you peek around the loud prison. Large men stare as you pass by. It’s clear they’ve made this place like home, clothes lines full of laundry, some playing card games, comfy slippers, lounging on the tables or mingling about.
“Here you are,” the guard stops in front of an open cell, rolling out his hand, “your penthouse suite.”
It looks like a stale dorm room for the most part. Two metal single beds, a metal toilet, two desks. And zero privacy.
Your supposed cellmate is doing pull ups on a makeshift bar in the middle of the room. His large bare, tatted back faces you, bulging arms, baggy sweatpants, and a head of pure pink hair. He’s grunting with every pull up, but they still seem chillingly effortless.
The guard leans his shoulder against the doorway. “Ryomen,” he whistles loudly as if to get a bull’s attention. “Got a new friend for you.”
Your eyes flick from the amused guard to your new ‘friend’ who gets one last pull-up in before dropping two socked feet to the ground with a grunt. You swear the fucking ground rumbles. He turns towards you and your knees wobble as his shadow over takes you.
Red eyes. Half of his face is mutilated, marred by a fire from long ago, you can surmise. His face tattoos match his body. He’s tall, you wouldn’t even be able to reach the height of his makeshift pull-up bar on the tips of your toes.
You stiffen as he sizes you up like the other inmates did on your way in. You hope you wrapped your chest tight enough. A woman in an all male prison? Not a good idea for too many reasons.
“Hi—” you clear your throat of the high pitched tone, adopting a fake, deeper one, “Hey, bro. It’s uh— cool to meet you— or whatever.”
You could slap yourself. Who are you kidding? You don’t know how to talk like a guy. You should have told Gojo ‘No, no amount of money would make me spend a year in a male prison.’ You shouldn’t have drank so much and stupidly agreed that night at the bar, because now, the best case scenario here is that the guard takes you away and they throw the real you into a women’s prison for trying to ‘fool the system.’
The man takes a step forward, and you’re already tensing for a blow— but he just shoulder checks you on the way out. You stumble a little, immediately going to rub your shoulder.
The guard looks properly amused, holding back a laugh. “Here,” he kicks off the wall, pushing some supplies into your arms. Another guard must have handed these over to him as you greeted your cellmate.
“Have fun,” he makes his brows jump and moseys away.
You deeply exhale through the nerves in your chest, walking towards your bed, if you can even call it that. You drop the supplies onto the thin mattress. Sheets, blanket, toothbrush, etc.
You’ve never been one to pray, but you’re considering it right about now. You shake your head and give yourself something to do: put on your sheets, organize the few toiletries you have on your desk.
After fifteen minutes, some kind of bell rings through the prison and you watch inmates filter out of their cells.
You stand and lean out of the cell curiously. You catch one of them muttering about ‘green beans’ and you realize it’s dinner time.
You enter the crowded mess hall and you’re immediately overwhelmed, clattering trays and chaos. The smell of old meatloaf and sweaty man fills the room.
You keep your head down as you get in line, adopting a slight slouch in hopes to avoid accidental eye contact that could be perceived as a threat. The second you’re pulled into something like a violent altercation, you’ll likely be exposed as a woman quite fast.
Dinner is slop with a side of slop on a metal tray, and you’re realizing why Gojo wanted to avoid this place so adamantly. A fucking paid vacation, he’d said.
You scan the mess hall with the tray in your hands, heart racing.
You spot two guards leaning against the entrance, watching you with amusement— like they’re waiting to see what happens to you, who will pick the runt of the litter. You’re the entertainment. You must look like a little meek boy, shaking in your boots.
It’s packed. Big men in little stools. It reminds you of highschool clicks but worse. You spot your pink haired cellmate, sat alone at the only empty table, but one mean glance up with those red eyes and you’re searching elsewhere.
“Who do we have here?” A deep voice sings as a heavy arm drops around your shoulders.
You glance up at him to see a blue haired man with scars all over his body, like he’d previously had poorly done stitches. He smiles at you with dead eyes.
Some of his friends surround the two of you, bored and idle— but their bulky presence only makes you nervous.
“Need somewhere to sit?” he hums tauntingly, tilting his head down to your level. “My name’s Mahito.”
“Oh, I—”
“Shhh little pet, I’ve got you now. I’ll take you under my wing! You don’t even have to thank me or anything.” His smile makes your spine tense with chills as he moves to stand in front of you.
Do you have another choice? You’re afraid of offending him and his scary friends if you decline.
Mahito continues, as if your acceptance is a given. “Let’s just get some things straight before—”
He’s interrupted by a large fist slamming into his jaw, knocking him right off his feet and onto his ass. Your hands tense around your tray, eyes wide as your gaze snaps to see who just punched Mahito into a limp, dream state.
It’s your pink haired cellmate, looking down at his victim while ringing out his fist like it’s just another Tuesday.
Fights must be common around here, because when you look around, no one seems surprised. Most of the men just mind their business and continue eating their food. Even the two guards are whistling, turning the other cheek.
You gulp. Mahito’s friends don’t even try to defend him, they just back away— like hyenas in the presence of a lion. You hear one of them mutter a name, ‘Sukuna.’
You wonder if anyone is even going to bring Mahito to the infirmary, but when Sukuna’s roaming gaze sweeps over you, all thoughts freeze in fear.
You hold his gaze a beat too long, unsure, until you see a flicker in his expression, a subtle tightening of the corner of his eyes. In a breath, you fold inward, chin dipping down to your chest in retreat.
He breaks the tension first, adjusting his neck as he turns away. He settles back into his seat with his meal, relaxed and borderline bored.
You have no clue what his intentions are, or what saving you signifies. Regardless, you’re relived to not sit with Mahito.
With no other option, you inch your way over to the only empty table where Sukuna sits. He remains focused on his food, ignoring your presence completely as you sit as far away as possible— on the literal side edge of the seat.
You cautiously take a bite, peeking at him defensively, but he remains indifferent.
__________________
Lights out, 9:10 pm.
You lay in your uncomfortable little bed, staring at the dirty ceiling. The cell door clanged shut at exactly 9 pm and when the guard made his final round, flashlight shining through the corridor— he passed by with a slow, deliberate glance followed by a wink that made you feel uncomfortable.
You can’t sleep, tossing and turning for 10 minutes. You shift on your side, unable to lay in one position for longer than two minutes due to this stone of a mattress.
“Quit. Moving.”
You freeze at the demand coming from your cellmate, who probably hasn’t been able to sleep with all of your loud movement.
“Sorry,” you chirp quietly, pressing your lips together between your teeth.
He exhales, deeply. You peek at him and he’s facing the opposite wall, naked back towards you.
You don’t know prison etiquette, are you meant to do something specific if someone saves you from a group of scary individuals like he did earlier? Maybe give him half of your lunch from now on or he’ll take you into the back and beat the teeth out of you?
“Um,” you whisper, practicing your ‘boy’ voice.
You feel the energy in the room shift, like when you were a child sharing a bunk with your sibling and you’d start spouting nonsense to each other after 3am.
“Thank you.”
You feel relief when a silent moment passes, maybe he’s asleep and didn’t hear you, because now that you’ve actually said it, you regret it. How stupid and naive could you be? You reckon gratitude like this may not apply in prison.
He grunts as he adjusts his position, and you cringe at the ceiling, subtly inching your thin blanket up to your chin. Oh. He definitely heard you.
You nod off after too many minutes of silence and you wake in the morning to the sound of the breakfast bell. You all but squeal opening your eyes to see your sweaty cellmate looming over your bed.
You quickly clear your throat, sitting up and glancing around at your surroundings. You kick your ‘boy’ voice up, trying to recover from your girly scream. “Morning.”
He throws a small towel over his shoulder and walks off, unbothered by the strangeness of standing over someone’s bed before they’ve even awoken.
Your breast wraps are still in tact when you peek down under your shirt, so you don’t think he saw anything he wasn’t supposed to.
Breakfast is uneventful, thankfully. Mahito, who has fresh dark bruises along his face, doesn’t even look your way. You sit alone at Sukuna’s table, the same acceptable distance as before.
Things are just okay, you think.
That is, apart from the whole using the bathroom thing. You’ve been putting it off. But, it’s unavoidable.
After breakfast, you peek into your cell where the shared toilet is, only to see Sukuna casually reading a scroll with one hand and doing one armed push ups with the other. The image of using the toilet in here makes your face sour. That’d be a type of humiliation you’d rather avoid, and that’s not even accounting for keeping your gender a secret.
Instead, you settle for the shared bathrooms connected to the showers in one large tiled, communal room.
Standing in front of the toilet stall, you curse Gojo’s entire family line. Because of course the stalls don’t have doors. Somewhere far away, Gojo suddenly feels shivers race down his spine in the middle of his little mochi date.
Apart from the unsettling experience of using the bathroom surrounded by large men shaving and brushing their teeth, you overheard interesting information as you did your business. You had to translate male prison gossip lingo, but apparently Sukuna and Mahito’s little altercation yesterday wasn’t random.
They have history. Something about ‘daring to touching his soul’ — whatever that means. You think soul is code for a drug supply, maybe.
Yesterday’s incident was a ‘checking’ as your fellow inmates say. Mahito was trying to force you, someone weak and new, into his group, which made him look strong among the lower ranks. But when Sukuna stepped in, punching his lights out in front of everyone, it was a show of power.
Mahito dominates people like you, small and submissive by nature, to stay on top, but Sukuna operates on a whole nother level. In that simple act, he showed everyone that you’re on the bottom, people like Mahito are in the middle, and Sukuna reigns on top.
You’re already cringing at your naivety thanking him last night, like he was some knight in shining armor.
Once you get back to your cell, Sukuna’s still reading, this time, sat on his bed all glistening with sweat having finished his workout.
You ignore your nerves walking past him to sit on your own bed with your back against the wall.
You’d scored a notebook and pen from the recreation room, and begin idly drawing the time away. Seeing how he’s the only thing there is to draw in this place, you start sketching Sukuna’s profile.
His nose is particularly a unique shape, reminiscent of the Greek God statues. You glance up for the millionth time to get the particular slope of his bridge committed to memory, and startle to see him looking back at you with a glare.
You slouch into yourself, your face growing hot having been caught staring and you force your eyes back down.
“You keep thinking you’re allowed to do that.”
Your heart rate kicks up at his scary gravelly tone, like a demon having come back to life in the form of his vocal cords. You naively thought he didn’t notice your glances, since he never even spared you a look.
“Sorry,” you mutter quietly.
“Look at me,” he demands in a way that you wouldn’t dare consider disobeying. Fuck. You were hoping he’d just let it be.
You clench your eyes shut for a brief moment, squeezing your pen in your palm before slowly sitting up and peering at him.
“Pitiful. Truly.” He scoffs, looking at your entire form with disgust. “Do you have no honor? Stand.”
You hesitate, gaze flicking, feeling like you’re playing a game of simon says.
“I said,” his tone rumbles as he moves to sit at the edge of his bed, chin resting on his fist, “stand.”
A passing inmate side eyes your open cell, but he minds his business as if it holds a sleeping monster within.
You gently toss your notebook to the side and your brows twitch as you push yourself up to stand, socked feet meeting the cold floor.
You aren’t even sure if you’re meant to be looking at him still, gaze uncertain.
“Now kneel.”
A flashback of how hard Sukuna’s fist met the bone of Mahito’s jaw makes you slowly bend and drop to your knees.
You spot a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes before a judgmental expression takes over, like your obedience is simultaneously sickening and mandatory to him.
“You hold your head quite high,” he hints at your lack of respect, and if putting your forehead on the dirty floor is all he makes you do for disrespectfully staring, you’d probably be lucky.
Your brows pinch in a pout, grossed out with the prospect of it but still, you inch your head down.
“Good,” he drawls the word out with a whispery rasp, “Go on. All the way down.”
Once you’re in a fully seated bow, like a servant in the old ages, he exhales slow and deep. Cathartically.
A long moment passes with his red eyes on the back of your head. The floor smells like dirt and a trace of bleach. You’re completely vulnerable in his position, with the back of your neck exposed and blinded.
Honestly, you’re wondering if Sukuna is still there. It’s so quiet, all you can hear is the subtle mumble of the others outside of the cell in the main area and the tick of the clock.
You prepare to speak by taking in a small breath, and that’s all it takes for Sukuna to snap at you.
“Did I say you could speak?”
You gulp.
“You’re new,” he complains, “The next time you disobey me, you won’t enjoy what I do.”
You hear the bed creak from him standing, but he doesn’t take a step in any direction. Just stands above you.
“Lick the floor.”
Your lips part in shock, blinking at the floor in confusion. You can’t even begin to imagine the disgusting things that line this floor after decades of men coming in and out. You’ve seen the guy who cleans the floors, he’s blind— literally. Humiliation is the only benefit to making someone do something like this, to knock them back into their place. You don’t have another choice.
“Show me,” he snaps, making you flinch. “Your tongue.”
Fuck this place, you obey. Slip your tongue out and slide it against the floor, eyes clenched shut to cope with the taste of everything horrible and bitter.
Pushing your palms to the floor, you lift your head, giving him the pathetic display of your twitching tongue.
The light above halo’s his pink head like a dark angel, and you see his lips curl into a diabolical smile. Pleased with your submission.
He squats, lining his mouth to your ear— not touching, but close enough to hear. “The hell are you looking at?”
Your eyes clench shut as fast as his words come out and you almost flinch when you feel the tip of his finger brush against your clavicle. Your breast wrap is right there—not impossibly close, but too close for comfort. It’s like he’s bringing attention to how frail your bones are, brushing the bone so lightly.
“Speak.”
“You— I’m sorry,” is all you know to spit out around the taste of the bitter floor in your mouth.
He tuts like your answer is just average, a boring C- at best. It seems to be all you know how to say, that and thank you.
“I don’t want trouble— I didn’t know I couldn’t look at you,” you stupidly explain.
“Have a little crush on me?”
You gulp, shaking your head. “N-No.”
He stands. “Why are you here?”
“Because you told me to—” your uncertain gaze flicks around his face but never connects to his eyes.
He interrupts you, repeating himself in a rougher tone, “Why are you here?”
You realize he’s asking why you were locked up.
“Speak. My impatience is not passive you’ll soon find out,” he snaps at you when you don’t immediately answer.
“I— I lost a bet. I needed money.” Technically not a lie, but you can see how your words imply that you robbed someone or something.
He uses a socked foot to nudge at your tummy, and you tense, praying he doesn’t lift it or lower it in either direction.
You’re bracing for a kick, a shove, something. Instead, he simply runs his foot down your abdomen until his toes brush the clothed skin above your pussy. You shiver in anticipated worry, looking up at him through your lashes like he’s a god given the right to deciding your fate.
Just when you think this is it, he’s going to push just an inch lower and notice your lack of dick— he loudly sniffles and walks out like nothing happened.
________________
Later, 11:25 am.
Your one reprieve after your humiliating morning is the library. Everyone has a job in prison— a 0.25$ paying job— but it’s better than nothing. You’d been lucky to land a job sorting books. Pushing a little cart around, organizing the collection of educational texts, self-help, religious, even things like the hunger games— it was nice.
That is, until your heart drops down to your ass when Sukuna pushes you against the shelf, chest pressing into your back.
You gasp, dropping the book in your grasp. Your mind immediately flicks to movies you’ve seen, involving a homemade shiv and a lot of blood, people who have nothing to lose and kill just for the hell of it. You’re an easy target too, smaller than the rest.
“You’re welcome,” he says casually into your ear. He’s not even pushing into you in an overtly sexual manner, just pinning you to the shelves.
You knew he was awake last night. But, he definitely didn’t intentionally protect you from Mahito, no, it had nothing to do with you. He’s taunting you.
You let out a shaky breath, daring to speak just above a whisper. “F—for what?”
“This is how it’s going to work,” he explains, hard hand gripping the back of your neck, “I’m going to fuck your ass, use you until that gratitude dries up and in return— no one will touch you.”
Oh shit. Your face pales. He’s explaining the concept of being a ‘bitch’ to you because it’s your first time in prison. Was it that obvious? (Yes.)
You let out a fearful whine under your breath, so quiet, but being so close, he hears it.
“What’s wrong? Thought you wanted to thank me,” he mocks you, hot breath fanning your ear. Maybe in another universe, you’d beg the domineering man fuck you— as you. But if you want your gender to remain a secret in here, you have no choice but to get out of this.
“I— but,” You grip the shelf harshly, thinking of any excuse, “I’m a virgin!”
A pause. Did that actually work? You’re not an actual virgin, but you’ve never done anal— technically not a lie.
Your bated breath halts when he lets out a boisterous laugh. “Oh?” he drawls like a king on a throne.
You can almost guarantee he feels your heart thumping through your fucking back.
“You’re just a hole. Meant for use. Doesn’t matter to me, I truly don’t care.”
“I— please, I can’t do that for you. I want to— I really want to! But I can’t,” you breathe, hoping you haven’t offended his ego— which you assume is larger than this building. You want to be able to say yes, just so that you don’t have a target on your back.
“Tch,” he clicks in distaste, “I won’t injure you. Is that enough to address your concerns?” You think he mutters a ‘loser’ under his breath but you aren’t sure.
The fact that he’s even trying to quell your fears is surprising, and gives you a spec of hope. It also allows you to consider the idea of what his protection in exchange would mean. Everyone clearly fears Sukuna, you’d get through this year untouched— aside from the obvious.
“Uh—uhm,” you gulp, side glancing back at him as much as his grip will allow. “I’m insecure about uh.. my dick.”
His brows lower into a furrow, looking at you with judgement. “Fine,” he rolls his eyes, “your little cock won’t come out of its confines. Satisfied?”
Are you actually going to do this? Can you even pull this off? The fact that this man even wants to fuck you in the first place is completely out of the blue. You knew things like this happened in here, but from this guy?
You shift. “Why do you want this— with me?”
“I’m not gay,” he scoffs, “Fool. I simply need a flesh light.”
“Oh, and,” he pushes his nose into your head, behind your ear, and sniffs, “you smell nice, like a woman.”
You shiver. It’s horrifying that he can actually smell that on you without knowing it.
“Deal?”
You clench your eyes shut and nod.
He finally pushes off of you and mutters a ‘good’ before walking away and out of the library.
___________
You’ve never been one for the concept of anal. You’d glare whenever a boyfriend would even bring it up. It’s always felt inconsiderate, like you’re just being used when a more pleasurable hole is right there. You’re kind of nervous, but part of you is relieved.
Since you made the deal, Sukuna has ‘claimed’ you. He makes you grab his meals for him, sit across from him in the cafeteria, visible signs of ownership. The other inmates avoid you completely; even a minor bump into your shoulder in passing earns an apology. You’re his now, and everyone knows it. Off limits.
As for your end of the deal, you aren’t sure when Sukuna is going to be in the mood to fuck. You’ve been stealing peeks at him, watching too closely, hoping for a signal, but Sukuna noticed. After that time you practically jumped when he stood up from his bed, he gave you a glare that made your knees weak. Instead, you’ve decided to just wait for him to tell you when he’s ready.
A few days after your library talk, Sukuna finally gives you the signal.
It’s morning, and you wake to see him hovering over your bed once again.
You startle, sitting up quickly as you rub your eyes. “Wh— what happened?”
He tosses you a little bag of chips, the type you can only get from the confectionery, and your brows furrow down at it.
“Um,” you glance at him, unsure, “thank you.” It sounds more like a question than a statement.
“Library, 12 pm. There’s a spot with no cameras in the back.”
Your eyes flicker in recognition, and your heart races as you nod. “Okay, I’ll— um— I’ll be there. That’s great. Sounds good.”
He deadpans at your pathetic attempt at speaking and walks off.
You can’t help but feel a weird affection placing the bag of chips under your bed, rolling your eyes at yourself. It’s a bag of chips, and you have more to worry about than catching feelings for this guy.
You have to prep.
The communal showers are sectioned by half walls and curtains. You’ve been able to shower, dry yourself, wrap your breasts, and get dressed all inside of the little shower section without anyone seeing your important body parts since you’ve been here. Still, you’d rather some privacy as you do what needs to be done today.
Thankfully, it’s empty when you check the showers while breakfast is taking place.
You stand there naked under the water, toes curling in nerves as you slowly bring the empty bottle up to fill it with water. A homemade douche. It’s mildly humiliating shooting water up your ass but it’s a necessary evil.
About a few hours later, you’re sorting books like your job entails, while anxiously glancing at the door and wall clock every two minutes with anticipation.
At 12:03 he pushes the door open, and you immediately turn your head back to face the shelves.
You hear him snap at the only person reading at a table, forcing them to leave. Your heart races when you hear him lock the entrance door behind them.
You stupidly pretend you’re deciding which shelf the book in your hands belongs on as his heavy footsteps close the distance between you.
He settles right beside you and you peek up at him.
“Come.” He nods his head, gesturing you to follow as he turns and leads you to the last isle, all the way to the back of the room.
“Right here?” You glance at the camera in the corner.
“Right here.”
You gasp when he grabs your hips and manhandles you over to the very corner of the isle, pressed into the shelf with your back to him. “It’s a blind spot.”
“Okay,” you lick your lips nervously, fumbling with the hem of your sweatpants. “I— how do we— should I just—?”
He squeezes his big hands over your shaky ones, stopping you. “Relax,” he snaps. “Ass fucking is not that difficult. It’ll be a lot easier for you than it is for women.”
You gulp at that, his (rude) reassurance means nothing considering the obvious.
He swats your hands away and you squeak when he pulls your sweatpants down enough to expose your ass to the chilly air.
You curiously glance back when you hear a click of a cap opening. He squirts an ungodly amount of lube into his palm and tosses it aside. (How did he even obtain lube in here?)
“Pretty fucking ass,” he says as if it’s an insult, using one hand to spread your cheek and slide a glob onto your hole with two fingers.
You cringe at the cold feeling of the gel as he rubs your hole, anticipating him shoving his finger in there.
“It’s gonna hurt,” you say wearily, “right?”
He rolls his eyes, using his middle finger to push at the resistance of the rim.
You gasp when it pops in. He slowly massages your insides in a manner to loosen the very edges, preparing the most taught of the muscles to stretch. It’s more weird than uncomfortable feeling something wiggling around in there.
“You’re lucky I’m doing this,” he rasps, “Virgin.”
“Thank you,” you squeak. He uses his free hand to shove your hips out a bit more.
He whispers as he pulls his finger out, “How’s it feel knowing you’re about to get fucked in the ass? Feel the shame yet?”
You gulp and clench your eyes shut when you catch a glimpse of his hefty cock being pulled out of his sweats. A large, scary winding vein catches your eye.
“Slow,” you chirp as he presses the tip to your ass, “please go slow.”
He notches his chin over your head, wrapping one arm around your tummy to push your back into his chest and grunts, “I will.”
His large body envelops you, like a hard hug. If it weren’t for his tip forcing your asshole to open up, you’d probably enjoy being held by a big man like this.
You hiss, unable to keep your hands from snapping back and digging your nails into his hips. The intrusion is uncomfortable, so odd and unnatural to have something this big pushing into your backside.
He doesn’t seem to mind your nails, undulating the tip around in circles within the very inside so you can get used to the feeling.
“That’s it,” he drawls, “open up.”
You let out a high-pitched whine and your ‘boy’ persona is thrown out of the window, completely irrelevant as he inches the rest of it in. He’s fully seated.
“Okay, okay,” you gasp, frantically tapping his hip and toned back, “don’t move yet.”
He exhales deeply, like he feels relaxed having finally mounted a warm hole. His warm huffs of breath calm you as they steadily fan the side of your head.
“Tick tock,” he hums after a minute of your hole pulsing around him in attempt to cope with the intrusion. “It will hurt less if I move.”
“Fuck,” you whimper, shaky hands moving to brace against the shelves. “Okay, fine.”
“Good.” He wraps one hand roughly around your mouth and his other arm holds your midsection taut to his front.
You squeal behind his hand when he pulls out and barrels back in with one hard rut. It hurts, but somehow, his large dick has reached your g-spot through your ass. You likely have a bulge in your tummy from the way his tip is angled to push down against your vaginal canal through the back door.
“Ahhh.” He tilts his head and rumbles an exhales right into your ear, like he’s dipping into a nice, warm hot-spring.
It doesn’t take long for him to set a rhythm, rocking his hips in short, hard thrusts. The contact of your cheeks meeting his hips creates a loud ‘plap,’ bouncing off the books in lewd repetition. His harsh breaths are the most you receive from him in terms of vocalized pleasure, but sometimes he offers a grunt.
Your feet shuffle with every hit, toes barely touching the ground as his strong hold keeps you up in the air like you’re just a human sized flesh light. He’s using you, and you can’t deny his incidental abuse of your g-spot feels good.
“You moan like a fuckin girl,” he hisses into your ear as he pounds your ass.
You can only moan under his palm, confirming his what he thinks is an insult. The jackhammering is short and mean, barely a few inches of his base exiting your puckering hole before stuffing it back inside.
“This ass is mine,” he grunts as your clit throbs with need, “Pathetic fuck. Letting a guy bend you over.”
Your legs shake as he grows frantic and mean, putting horrifying strength behind each thrust. You’re fucking like bunnies, your body frantically jostles up and down and you’d be embarrassed if it weren’t for how he’s completely dominating you. A few books fall right off of the shelf and clatter to the carpeted floor with the force of it all. You wonder if he’s fucking you this hard because he thinks you’re a man, that you can and should be able to handle it.
You exhale sharply out of your nose, eyes clenched shut as you take his last few slams.
“Fuck!” He grunts, throwing his head back as his grip on you grows so harsh you’ll have bruises on your waist later. You feel his dick pulse as he dumps his load as deep as he can go into your ass, keeping his hips still against your irritated asscheeks.
Finally he sighs as he slides out, making your hole clench shut the second the intrusion is gone.
You practically stumble for balance as he lets you go, knees buckling. Pussy dripping and confused while your ass aches.
You want to just collapse right here, take a much needed rest, but you can’t risk an accidental flash of your pussy. You pull your sweatpants up, out of breath.
He tucks his dick back in, glancing down at you with a glow of physical relief on his face. “You took me well,” he licks his top teeth, tilting his head. “Did you enjoy getting your cherry popped?”
That was almost a compliment. Your insides are still screaming for an orgasm and a break simultaneously. You feel your face rise in temp, pathetically, and you can’t help but tuck your chin to your chest.
“Just fucked you and you’re getting shy.” He snickers with a look of disgust. “I think i’ll play with you again and again until I tire of this.”
He doesn’t even give you a chance to respond before moseying out of the library, adjusting his dick in his pants as he goes.
Somehow, you’d gotten away with the first fucking without revealing your secret. Aside from not having a chance to finish the job and rub yourself to a much needed orgasm, you’re quite proud of yourself.
Sukuna doesn’t speak to you more than usual following the act, he’s just not the type. Does one speak to their flesh light between uses?
That night, you almost believe you’re dreaming when you wake up to Sukuna’s weight lying directly on top of you. You couldn’t sleep comfortably on your sore ass, so you’d had to sleep on your tummy, giving him a perfect opportunity.
“Again,” he rasps into your ear, grinding against your ass. You must have done well earlier if he’s already back for more, or he’s fond of how your asshole feels.
You tiredly whine and lower your groggy tone to say, “But the guards will hear— and the others.”
He ignores your concerns and crawls down your body, yanking your sweats down. You squeak, pushing a hand under yourself to keep your pants up at the front.
You glance over your shoulder. “What are you— oh!”
He spreads your ass and licks a stripe up your asshole, terrifyingly close to your pussy. So close your pussy clenches in anticipation, having a sweet mind of its own.
He pauses as he looks down at your hole with furrowed brows. It’s dark enough that he won’t be able to see the feminine parts of you, you hope.
He doesn’t say a word about his pause, just brings his face back down and pushes his tongue into your ass. He wriggles it around and you cringe, gripping the sheets as he stimulates your sore hole. You can’t even tell if it feels good to have your ass ate, or if it’s the concept of this man with his face in your ass, or the fact that you’re just fucking horny and begging for scraps.
After one last lick from your hole all the way up to your lower back, he crawls up to lay on you with his lips to your ear.
“Why the fuck is your ass sweet?” he asks as he lifts his hips to yank his cock out. Your brows raise, almost letting out a snicker. It must be due to your pussy leaking wetness down to your ass all day since the library.
“I— I don’t know,” you mumble as he holds one of your cheeks open and slides his tip against your hole.
“Just,” he grunts as he pops the tip in, not even waiting before pushing in to the hilt, “stay quiet and I’ll be done in a second.”
You whine under your breath, fisting the sheets as your toes curl. His legs surround the outsides of yours as his arms wrap around your neck in a loose headlock. You aren’t sure you can stay quiet if he pounds you like he did before without his hand covering your mouth. Getting caught with his dick in your ass doesn’t sound so great.
But fuck, you suddenly don’t care because his abs clench as he lifts his hips and slides back in, already gaining a stead rhythm. It’s slower than before, but hard. Your eyes roll back at how passionate it is, fingers pressing into his pulsing arms around your neck. You can’t remember the last time a man truly put his heart into fucking you.
You think you may be able to enjoy this little arrangement after all, considering his dick is big enough to pound into your g-spot with every hump. Maybe his claim on you, the free use of it all, is charming too.
But then, he begins to slide a hand down under you and you freeze.
He’s reaching for your nonexistent dick.
You snap your hand down to grip his wrist, stopping him, but you know that he could bypass your frail hold if he really wanted to.
“D-Don’t touch,” you breathily murmur through his continued thrusts.
“Tch,” he grunts in distaste, “Won’t see your ugly dick. You should be thanking the gods that I’d even try to touch you.”
You wish you could allow him to touch, rub your clit, finger you, fuck you the proper way. But no matter how horny you are, you have to have a clear head about this. If he knew you were a woman, he could tell the guards— or worse, tell the other inmates and let them have a turn with you. That’s just the tip of the iceberg of the horrible things that could happen to you if you’re exposed.
“I know, I know,” you gulp, lips parting as he manages a particularly nice thrust, “just— next time. Okay? Next time.”
He huffs, exasperated and gives up, moving his hand away and instead uses it to dig into your hip to get a better angle.
“Fuuck,” you breathe in a particularly girly way as he reaches deeper, and he hisses in your ear in obvious pleasure. He seems to enjoy the way you ‘moan like a woman.’
“Good,” he thrusts, “little,” thrust, “hole.”
He cums with a last few pitiful humps and rubs his hips against your ass in a circle as if to make sure his cum is deeep in there.
You feel utterly spent when he pulls out, two loads in your ass just from today and you’re clocking out.
He doesn’t even give you another look as he gets up and stretches with a yawn, wet dick still hanging about his thigh.
You pull your sweats up with a grimace at how sore your asshole feels. If you weren’t so horny, you might be annoyed how beat up your insides feel.
You exhale in relief when he passes out the second he flops down into bed like any average man does. You’re already thinking of some way to fool him into thinking you have a cock by the next time he wants to fuck.
_______
You’ve stolen a cucumber from the kitchen. It wasn’t easy, but you managed.
Sukuna has you up against the cell bars and has grown quite confident in his ability to fuck you within an inch of your life. He doesn’t seem like he’s all that invested in you, after all, he still thinks of you as some boy he’s using to get off. But you’re still enjoying it as much as any woman can reasonably enjoy anal.
He definitely seems to enjoy fucking you too, because you can feel his thighs shake as he pounds into you.
He kicks your feet wider and reaches around you to grab at your ‘dick.’ “Gonna let me touch it now?”
You gulp, peeking down at his hand that finds the cucumber and grips it.
“Jesus Christ, you’re fucking hard.”
You would laugh in his face if he wasn’t obliterating your insides with heavy humps.
He slowly begins to knead your ‘cock’ and the only way you know that, is because the tip of the cucumber incidentally rubs against your clit with every one of his strokes.
“Oh shit,” you breathe, brows raising and blinking into an eye roll of surprise pleasure. The stimulation to your clit and g-spot is like heaven after two days of being pent up.
“Don’t— don’t stop,” you beg, making his brow quirk.
The second you start fucking back into his cock, like an auto-masterbater, Sukuna’s eyes roll and his orgasm appears in the distance.
He sinks his teeth into your shoulder, indifferent to the pain he could be causing and meets your thrusts half way. There’s no way you’re not waking the entire cell block with the slapping sound bouncing off the concrete walls.
You sigh in disappointment when he lets go of your ‘dick’ and uses both hands to grip your hips, thrusting harder than ever.
He hisses an inhale like it hurts, a string of saliva connecting your shoulder to his teeth— and cums as his feet slightly shuffle.
“Phew,” he exhales, pulling out and tucking his dick back in. He crashes right into bed, just like before, and leaves you throbbing and needy. Again.
_____________
Sometime in the middle of the night, Your cell.
Sukuna has turned ravenous, he wants to fuck everyday, at least twice. It’s a bit much because you have to prep the same day before anal, and you’ve had to turn him down. Not without worries of how he’d take the rejection with little explanation, but thankfully, all he did is tsk and walk off.
One day of no sex, and he’s been staring at you through the entire day. When you wake up, in the cafeteria, on walks, while you draw on your bed. It’s frightening since you can’t read his expression that’s always resting in a threatening way. Would it be stupid to ask what he’s feeling?
Honestly, you just wanted him to wait until you could prep, and then he could have at it— but he didn’t get the message. And it’s not like you can just tell him, ‘Hey Sukuna, you can fuck my ass anytime now. Clock’s ticking!’ That’d mean you’re actively seeking anal, and that’s ridiculous. Right?
You shrug it off and decide to ignore his stare, focusing your attention on the book in your hands. He’s a big boy, if he needs something, he’ll ask for it.
And ask for it, he does.
You gasp when you’re suddenly pushed down flat to your bed, strong hands spreading your legs so Sukuna can rest between them as your book clatters to the floor. You hadn’t even heard his footsteps, or the creak of his bed as he stood.
“Jesus Christ,” you breathe, looking up at him with your heart racing out of your chest. “You scared me.”
His clothed bulge is hovering just above your pussy, but if he rested his weight down a few inches, you’re fucked. Maybe literally.
He must have just showered, his hair is damp and dark pink. He looks down at you hungry, like you’re not a person but a fucktoy with a timed lock on it that’s almost ready to use again, licking his bottom lip. “Does this fix your problem? Can I fuck you now, princess?”
Your brows furrow, an obvious question mark on your expression. You ignore the pet name meant to taunt you, because you’re not a man with toxic masculinity.
He rolls his eyes. “I’m not kissing you. Missionary is as romantic as I’ll get. Take it or leave it.”
What? He must have misinterpreted your rejection as a desire for more intimacy and affection when you have sex. The idea of missionary with Sukuna makes your tummy flutter— but you can’t.
You press your lips together, concealing a laugh. “Oh. Um— no,” you gently press against his chest, “I like how we usually do it.”
“You know,” he leans into your face, “I’m getting real tired of you bossing me around.”
“I’m sorry,” you say, recalling your excuse for keeping your dick out of sight, “I just feel— uh—insecure.”
“Fuck that,” he grunts, grabbing hold of the hem of your sweats, “Only way to get over that shit is to face it.”
You grasp his wrist, nervously. It’s not like you don’t want Sukuna to know you’re a woman so you can fuck the way you want to, it’s just too complicated and risky.
“I— really, let’s just do it against the wall, like we always do!” you attempt to convince him as he pulls against your hold.
He doesn’t say a word, just squints at you like he can smell bullshit in your words.
Suddenly, he yanks your pants all the way down until they fall to the floor and you immediately cup your sex, trying to hide from him. You twist your lower half to lie on your side, legs bent around his side so they can stay together.
He glances down at your lower half and grips your thigh. “Show me,” he snaps, more suspicious than warranted if he actually believed your lies of insecurity.
You shake your head stubbornly, clenching your eyes shut.
“Now,” he allows the word to reverberate against the walls of the cell, and you swear you can feel the vibrations in your chest.
That domineering tone is like a frequency that emits a wave of submission in timid people like you, like a lions roar to a cornered bunny.
Still, you don’t open your legs.
He scoffs a huff of air, like he’s in disbelief of your sudden ability to grow balls. Pun intended.
You peek your eyes open when you feel him shift to crawl down your body until his breath is fanning your hand covering your pussy and naked asshole.
You squeak when he slides his tongue against your fingers. “Open up,” he taunts, giving your asshole a little lick as well.
You whimper as he begins licking at your hand and your thighs, resolve dissolving with every warm, wet touch.
“I’m— I’m scared,” you admit with panic, though you’re being too vague for him to actually console you even if he wanted to.
He takes a big bite out of your thigh and you gasp, pussy clenching in need from the sting. Your wetness has made your hands slippery, and the second he takes another bite, this time a deep one on your fingers, your hand slips away with a sting and a hiss.
He takes the opportunity to yank your legs apart, spreading them over each of his thighs till you’re on full display in front of him. Like a plate.
Your wide eyes flick from your exposed pussy, to his red eyes trained down between your legs. You quickly reach to futilely cover yourself once again.
“Aht!” he scolds, pinning your wrists to the bed on either side of your body before they can cover your sex again. “Don’t fucking move,” he snaps, inches from your face.
You must have the expression of a small animal being prepped for slaughter as he closely eyes you because that’s exactly how you feel. You watch his face shift as he realizes your features aren’t just girly, you’re a fucking girl.
“Please.” You plead him, but for what exactly?
He exhales into you, ignoring you to observe your body. He lets go of one wrist to slowly raise the hem of your shirt up to your collarbones, revealing a tightly wrapped chest.
As if he needs to make sure, he rips it away and blinks at your bouncing tits. One last look at your pussy and he huffs harshly, gazing into your eyes like he just won the lottery.
“Holy shit.”
You’re mute, afraid and frozen in place as your legs clench around his hips, trying to close them around him even though it’s impossible.
“Why are you here?”
He watches you with equal parts curiosity and amused awe.
“I— I made a deal. A stupid fucking deal,” you breathe in your natural feminine voice. It’s not hard to assume the deal was money for time in prison.
He shakes his head, laughing airily like he can’t believe his eyes. “Now this is so very interesting. A woman in my cell.”
He leans into your ear, making your chest and tummy erupt in goosebumps. “I knew your little asshole was too good to be true.” He nips your ear and you whine.
“Don’t— please don’t tell anyone.”
Your quiet request makes him burst out laughing, head tossing back as he hovers over you territorially.
“Tell them?” A vein in his forehead pops as his gaze manically flicks back and forth from each of your eyes, “No, you foolish little thing. You’re all mine. You’d have to fucking kill me to share this pretty pussy.”
You aren’t sure if you should feel relived or scared. You’ve grown fond of Sukuna’s cock, but that look in his eye is downright diabolical.
“You’re,” you begin with a swallow, “not gonna hurt me?”
“Ohhh,” he breathes cathartically like he’s battling aggression seeing something so small and delicate beg not to be broken. “No, no. I’m not gonna hurt you. You’re safe with me.”
You aren’t so sure, if that glint in his eye and tone in his deep voice tells you anything. Like mouse encountering a perfect piece of cheese suspiciously sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor, begging to be eaten.
He leans in and lays a soft kiss to your cheek, making you blink.
“See?” he hums smiling, “I know exactly how to handle with care.”
He presses his nose to your neck and starts sniffing you loudly, like a dog— down to your breasts, your tummy, and finally he takes a good long sniff of your pussy.
You slap your hands to your face in embarrassment and he groans loudly on an exhale, jaw pinching as he clenches his teeth. “Fuuuck. Nothing quite like it. Your pussy smells very nice,” he trails off with a manic laugh, licking his lips.
His eye catches on your pinched brows once you hesitantly pull your hands away to grip the sheets and he leans into your face with a careful kiss to your jaw. “Deal still on, baby?”
You absolutely have no choice, you need his protection now more than before. Without this deal, there’s no telling what he’d do— no matter what he says. And even if he keeps his word, who’s to say no one else will find out your secret? It helps that he’s hauntingly sexy with a big dick he knows what to do with.
You gulp, nodding. “Yes, please.”
“Goood,” his lip curls as he drawls the word out, “That’s very good.”
He licks a wet stripe up the side of your face, making you grip his biceps.
“Are we going to have sex? My— You want my—”
He interrupts your stutter by humming against your cheek with amusement. “Oh yes. I want your pussy. I’m gonna take it over and over again.”
You exhale a sigh, eyes slightly rolling back, enjoying his words a little too much for the situation at hand.
“I’m not on birth control,” you warn him weakly as he begins to suck on your neck.
He hums nonchalantly, slowly sliding his hand down your tummy.
Your hips jerk when he cups your entire sex, long cold fingers pressing into your warm folds that are just begging for love.
“We don’t have condoms,” you add, biting your lip as he uses two middle fingers to carefully brush from your slippery hole up to your clit.
He chuckles against your neck, wickedly, like he’s enjoying every aspect of this conversation.
“No, we don’t,” he agrees with a smile you can literally hear on his voice.
Your jaw drops as he starts rubbing leisurely circles against your throbbing clit, back arching to press your abdomen into his hard abs.
“You have to pull out,” you whine in a broken moan.
“Okay,” he agrees with ease, moving to press his lips to yours.
You barely kiss him back, as his lips slide and suck on yours.
“I thought you said you didn’t want to kiss me,” you say, muffled as your legs tremble.
He moves his middle fingers down and slides one into your core, making you gasp into his mouth.
He abruptly shoves his tongue into your mouth, sliding and flicking against your tongue. He peeks the tip of his pointer finger in to join his middle inside you, and once your initial ring of resistance gives, he shoves it in like a glove.
“Oh,” you whine, brows pinching and toes curling. “Your fingers are so— fuck— they’re big.”
“Oho,” he breathes as he unhurriedly rocks them in and out, “You’ve been so unsatisfied, haven’t you? Getting ass fucked with not one touch to your pretty, crying little pussy.”
You nod erratically, “I was just so scared if you found ou— oh god.”
He gradually puts weight behind his thrusts, fingering you at an angle to abuse your g-spot.
“You thought I would want to hurt you,” he assumes with a pitying smile, “No, no. I just wanna fuck the shit out of you.”
You reach down and grip his wrist, but his hand in motion makes it difficult.
“Please make me cum,” you beg, “I’d be really— so grateful.”
“Yeah?” He presses a peck to your lips and crawls down to stuff his face between your legs. “Finally,” he sighs to your pussy.
He glances up at you and pecks your jumping clit. “Gonna eat your pussy. You want that?”
Your eyes roll back and you nod pathetically. “Oh my god, yes.”
He doesn’t waste time. He makes a pursing motion with his lips and basically sucks your clit into his mouth like a vacuum, gently suckling on it with his eyes blissfully closed. His free hand rests around your hip and flat against your lower tummy.
Your brain is fucking buzzing, toes curling in the air as you breathe short, pathetic breaths. You’re delightfully surprised he knows you need your clit stimulated to cum; a man in prison just isn’t the type you’d expected to know what most women need.
You use both hands to gently curl into his pink hair, watching his lips envelop your clit as the motion of his hand rocks into you.
“That feels good,” you affirm, voice shaky, making sure he knows he’s going a good job so he doesn’t feel motivated to stop.
He doesn’t answer you, just flicks his tongue against your clit with horrifying stamina, like his tongue is as trained as the rest of his body. You don’t feel a second of lag in his force behind his tongue and that yummy suction.
You melt when he transitions into thorough, flat tongued licks, the kind that nudges your clit in a way that’s not too overstimulating— but genuinely pleasurable in a sustainable way. You could actually cum like this. You rub his head like a masseuse, kneading the skin affectionately, making his brows and forehead slightly move with your massage.
He eats you like he hasn’t eaten his favorite meal in a long time, and considering the slop in the cafeteria, your delirious mind thinks it makes perfect sense that he’s probably soo hungry. It’s not his fault he’s so eager.
Your toes curl as your abdomen clenches inward, honing your focus to find an orgasm in the distance with every specifically pressurized slide of his tongue.
He tilts his head idly, side to side and the second he finds that perfect angle to the left, you gasp and yank his head impossibly closer.
“Right there, huh?” is the last thing he says before repeating the motion perfectly, over and over and over while his hand continues at ample speed. It’s about 27 licks in when the white blinds your sight and you give in to the ecstasy of an orgasm.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you— fuck!” you stupidly babble the one phrase you can’t seem to stop repeating to the man ever since you met him, voice strained and slurring as your brain short circuits and cuts off the connection between your motor skills and brain signals.
Even when you fall limp with fading euphoria, frailly whining, ‘no more,’ his big mouth attaches to your entire slit like a fucking milk pump, despite acknowledging your orgasm passing by discarding his wet fingers to join his other hand on your hip/tummy area.
It’s an interesting sight— your weak, spasming body jerking in overstimulation as he blissfully hallows his cheeks and enjoys your cunt with all kinds of tongue techniques. The type of techniques a stupidly rich man has learnt after so many wine tastings to get the full taste profile of every berry inside to layer over his every tastebud. Getting his full money’s worth of this favorite thing.
But fuck if it doesn’t feel good to be licked, even with the ultra sensitivity of an after glow.
“Sukuna— please,” you whimper, “Aren’t you gonna fuck me?”
That’s what makes him pause, flicking open his relaxed, heavily lidded gaze.
He unsuctions your warm folds, letting go in one popping motion and you exhale sharply when the cold air hits you.
He crawls up your body like a predator, more than twice your size. He slides his arms under your back to hold you flush to his body, hugging you in a possessive hold. One hand wraps around the back of your neck, fingers almost meeting at the front, and the other massages your lower back.
“Am I popping your pussy cherry too?” he hums, lips brushing yours as he speaks into your mouth.
“No,” you huff, “Is that a deal breaker?”
He nips your lower lip. “I’m gonna eat you whole,” he expresses how deeply he wants to fuck you— how small a concern like being a virgin would be to him.
You shiver, and maybe even start to consider why he’s in prison in the first place. Eat you.. whole..?
“Can we fuck first?”
He licks his teeth as his metaphorical tiger tail flicks behind him— like a bunny has triggered a tigers instinct to play while in the midst of a chase. If he could purr, he would be right about now.
Interrupting your little moment, the breakfast bell rings. Sukuna must have made his move an hour before six while you were reading the night away and neither of you noted the time. Sukuna had thought it’d be a 10 minute ass fuck, but now that he’s stumbled upon gold in the form of a woman, he’s gotten distracted.
You’re expecting Sukuna to be frustrated that you have to stop before you even reached the main event, but surprisingly, he just helps you get dressed and then stands lazily by the cell bars to cover you while you wrap your chest so no one eyes his plaything.
The guard just passes by boredly, doing morning checks, nodding at Sukuna in brief greeting.
Once the guard is out of sight, you huff in exhaustion and sit up on your bed. After all the fear of being exposed as a woman and having an orgasm like that, all you want is to sleep. You literally nod off as you sit there, listening to the ruffle of Sukuna throwing on some new clothes.
Two taps to your cheek makes you startle, slurping up some drool as you open your eyes. Sukuna squats in front of you, holding your knees.
“Breakfast,” he reminds you, “get up.”
You pout at his tone, having hoped he’d soften up to you after learning you’re a woman. A woman he desperately wants to fuck and protect and own.
“Can’t you bring it to me?”
He blinks at you, deadpanning. “The fuck did you just say?”
You flinch a bit, chin tucking into your chest. You grow even more alert as he stands and pushes over you, making you lean back in bed with your palms behind you, supporting your weight right beside his own larger ones.
“Does this pretty little thing want to be punished?”
You immediately bite your lip, smiling as he pushes his head into your neck to nip at it.
“Mhm, keep doing that,” you encourage his panty dropping neck kisses.
Oncoming footsteps leading closer and closer to your cell make your heart jolt, and suddenly he roughly pushes you down flat with a veiny hand tight around your throat.
“Begging for a beating so early in the morning are we, boy?” he rasps, menacingly, as the inmate walks past, peeking at your altercation briefly before scurrying off in fear of becoming involved in Sukuna’s business.
You smile.
Oh. This’ll be fun.
______
SORRY edged you there, didn’t I?
Also not sure if this counts as gender bend? Lmk if I should add it to the warnings!
Huge thanks to @specialgradefckr for giving me soo many ideas that I used for this fic— I love yew sm I wanna eat you. Please check out their page. They have delicious writing
~ a/n: this contains a little darker smut, dex isn't gentle or sweet in this one. But reader is 100 % consensual to being treated this way. Just giving a heads up, if that's not your thing.
Dex's cock is deep down your throat, saliva flowing like a river down your eyes. Your head is hanging upside down over the armrest of the couch. Dex's hands are gripping your head as he starts pushing it rapidly against his hips, making his cock pound into your mouth so deeply you gag and splutter around his thick girth. Dex laughs at your pathetic sounds, grunts as his dick hits the back of your throat and he feel you contract around him.
It's an overwhelming sensation, how his cock fills up your entire mouth and throat and it sends a pulsing heat through your core, making your clit throb with need, your pussy clenching around nothing with eagerness to be filled. For a few minutes, you can breathe through your nose, but soon, your nostrils are filled with an abundance of saliva. You try your best to hold your breath for as long as you can, you want to be a good girl for him. But, eventually, it's too much and you tap your hand on his thigh. Dex grunts and finally let you breath. You gasp as he pulls away and you cough up a mix of saliva and bile fluid, letting it gather in the bowl below you.
Dex let's out a mocking laugh as he watch you blink your eyes through the fluid sticking onto your eyelids.
"Look at you," he snickers and slap your right tit so hard you whimper at the stinging pain. “You're my pretty, little fuckdoll, aren't you?"
"Y-Yes, sir," you gasp through your rapid breaths and look up at his smirking face through your saliva covered eyes.
"Come here." Dex tugs on your leash attached to your collar. You gasp as he pulls you up and you fall from the couch as he yanks on the leash once more. Your knees hits the floor and you wince from the pain, but it's quickly forgotten when you're forced to crawl after him to the bed. You know exactly what he wants and position yourself on your knees with your cheek on the mattress and hands behind your back so your ass sticks up in the air.
Dex uses the leash to tie your wrists together behind your back and take a step back, admiring the sight before him. So pretty you look, all tied up at his mercy.
"Such a pretty, little obedient pet I have," he muses softly and fondles your buttocks. His fingers finds the base of the buttplug and twirls it around, making the plug twist inside your anus. You groan deep in your throat and clench around the plug, eager to feel something much bigger fill you up.
"Does my anal slut want my cock inside her, huh?" he teases as he starts moving the plug in and out of your ass.
"Y-Yes, sir... please...," you whimper and move back against him. Fuck, you need him so badly. Dex chuckles and pulls out the plug with a pop. He moves the toy to your mouth, dragging the plug across your lips. You open your mouth and let him push the plug into your mouth. You moan and look into his eyes as you taste yourself while sucking on the toy. Dex's hazel eyes dilates as he watches you, his cock throbbing against his belly, painfully hard with arousal and need to fuck that sweet ass of yours.
"Look at you...such a dirty, little whore you are... I'm gonna fuck that slutty, little asshole of yours until you're screaming my name in pleasure."
Dex positions himself above you, aligning his cock with the tight ring between your buttocks and slowly push his cock inside, inch by inch as he watch your hole open wider and wider for him.
"F-fuck," you groan as his cock fills you up, eyes rolling back at the sensation of being so completely full of him.
"Fuck...," Dex growls as the tightness of your ass makes him shudder with pleasure. "You’re such a good girl, letting me use you like the worthless piece of fuckmeat that you are."
His hands grabs both your buttocks as he starts thrusting into you. Snarls and growls leaves his mouth as he pounds like a madman, completely enthralled in pleasure as he slams his cock inside your ass over and over and over...
Pleasure and pain consumes your body as Dex's cock fills your ass. You want to hold onto something for support as he pounds into you, but with your hands tied, all you can do is completely surrender yourself to him, to the pleasures possessing your entire being. You can feel the oncoming of an overwhelming orgasm approaching, building up in your core like a boiling furnace, even though your pussy or clit haven't been touched once.
"Yeah, that's it...," Dex snorts as he watches your body so completely under his control. " Such a pathetic, stupid bitch, just laying there without a single thought running through that dumb head of yours."
His degrading words takes you over the edge, your thighs shaking as your juices squirts out of your pussy and your ass clench around his cock as you scream his name. Dex growls as he pumps his load into your ass, laughs mockingly as you slump down onto the mattress and he watch as his cum oozes out of your gaping asshole.
"Good pet," Dex hums delightfully and pats your ass before going for a shower, leaving you with a stupid, fucked-out grin on your face.
Being married to the legendary Leon Kennedy comes with a unique set of advantages. He is an attentive and loving husband, always ensuring you are kept informed about his dangerous missions with the DSO. His thoughtfulness extends far beyond just sharing information; he genuinely cares for your well-being. However, there is one notable drawback—a significant age difference, with him more than twice your age. Yet, this difference doesn’t bother either of you. Leon enjoys the vibrancy you bring to his life, feeling youthful in your presence, while you cherish the security and protection he provides. Leon often reflects on how fortunate he is to share his life with someone as accepting and loving as you. You embrace every facet of his life, from the haunting memories of Raccoon City to the pressures of his demanding role in the DSO. Even in the most intimate moments of your relationship, you reassure him of your unconditional love, acknowledging every part of him, including the challenges that come with his age. While he is a fit and healthy man, he occasionally requires medication to enhance your shared experiences in the bedroom. Still, your affection for him remains unwavering; you appreciate all aspects of him, including his old cock.
The penthouse envelops you in a serene embrace, where the silence is only broken by the sultry notes of jazz wafting through the air from the vintage record player nestled in the corner. Silvery moonlight streams through the tall French doors, casting elongated shadows that dance across the glossy black marble floors, creating an enchanting play of light and darkness. The atmosphere is thick with the warm, earthy fragrance of sandalwood mingling with the musty aroma of well-loved books—an intoxicating blend that lingers like a comforting memory, clinging to the rich, dark Victorian furnishings and the brooding tenebrist paintings that peer down from the walls with an almost watchful gaze.
You’ve just finished clearing the dinner plates, remnants of a meal that Leon passionately insisted on preparing himself. He stands casually, leaning against the grand archway leading to the hallway, his silver-streaked hair catching the soft glow of the room. Despite the passage of time, his build remains robust, though age has added a gentle softness to his form. His piercing blue eyes—sharp yet filled with warmth—follow your every movement, emanating a protective tenderness that makes your heart swell. As the lines at the corners of his eyes deepen, he offers a small, weary smile, one that speaks of a thousand shared moments.
“I insist,” you assert gently, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin against your lips. “You work so hard for us; it’s the least I could do.” As you pull away, he captures your hand in his grasp, firm yet tender, his fingers wrapping around you like a protective shield. His thumb lightly grazes over your knuckles, drawing his gaze to the wedding ring adorning your finger. The tanzanite stone glimmers in the dim light, reflecting shades of deep blue and violet that seem to absorb the ambiance, embodying the love and commitment that binds you together.
“My young wife is too good to me. Always taking care of her old man,” Leon whispers, his voice low and warm, like a gentle melody echoing in the quiet of the evening. He doesn't release your hand; instead, he uses it to draw you closer, until you find yourself pressed against his solid chest. The familiar warmth radiates from him, intertwined with the faint, intoxicating scent of his cologne and the lingering notes of the evening's red wine. This cozy blend envelops you like a cherished embrace. He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a delightful shiver down your spine, “Let me take care of you now. Come to bed with me.”
“Only if you carry me,” you reply with a playful giggle, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “Come on, baby... please?” A slow, deep chuckle escapes him, a sound that vibrates through your very being, resonating in a way that only he can. His arms, still strong and capable despite the passage of time, slide around your body—one hand cradling your knees while the other supports your back. With effortless grace, he lifts you into his arms, as if you were weightless, holding you securely against him. The world tilts gently as he turns, striding purposefully down the dimly lit hallway towards your bedroom. The soft glow from the sconces casts gentle shadows across his face, highlighting the serious yet loving lines that define him.
“Anything for my girl. You know that,” he murmurs, a promise lingering in his tone.
He nudges the heavy bedroom door open with his foot, revealing a sanctuary bathed in the soft, golden glow of a single lamp perched on the nightstand. The light dances across the dark, ornate bedframe and the luxurious silk sheets, creating an intimate atmosphere that feels like a dream. He doesn’t set you down right away; instead, he stands there in the center of the room, holding you close, his eyes searching yours with a mixture of desire and vulnerability. A hint of that old, familiar shame flickers in his gaze, softening his expression, “You're sure about this, baby? You don’t have to… just for me.” His embrace tightens slightly, a silent plea battling against his overwhelming desire to prioritize your comfort above all else.
You lean in, pressing your lips softly against his, the warmth of your kiss chasing away the shadows of doubt that lurked in his eyes. “I’m sure, hon... It’s for us two.” Your gentle kiss seems to dissolve the uncertainty within him, and he releases a slow, shaky breath, the tension in his shoulders easing as he finally moves toward the bed. He lays you down on the cool silk sheets with an unhurried reverence that makes your heart flutter, his hands lingering on your hips with a tenderness that stirs your soul. He brushes a stray strand of hair from your forehead, his voice barely above a whisper, “For us. Always for us.”
He straightens his back, his movements slow and purposeful, as he starts to unbutton his shirt one by one. The warm lamplight bathes him in a soft glow, highlighting the flecks of silver in his hair and the contours of his torso, bearing the marks of a life filled with both strength and resilience. His eyes are locked onto yours, dark and intense, conveying a potent blend of deep affection and unwavering resolve. When he speaks, his voice drops to a sultry whisper, laden with promise, “I’m going to make you feel so good, baby. Gonna fill that pretty little pussy up until you can't think straight.”
You gasped as warmth flushed through your cheeks, your voice a mix of shock and playful reprimand. “Leon! You’re so dirty!” A low, throaty laugh escaped his lips, rich and warm, filling the quiet room with an electric tension. His deft fingers swiftly worked through the remaining buttons of his shirt, each release accompanied by the sound of fabric parting. With a fluid motion, he shrugged the shirt off his shoulders, letting it cascade silently to the floor. The sight of his chest was familiar yet thrilling—broad and defined, the pale silver scars mapping a life lived on the edge.
As he unbuckled his belt with a soft, deliberate click, he leaned closer, his voice a seductive whisper, “You love it when I talk dirty to you. Don’t pretend you don’t, sweetheart.” The warmth of his breath brushed against your skin, igniting a fire within you.
He joined you on the bed, the mattress surrendering to his weight, sinking lightly as he caged you in with his arms. His face hovered mere inches from yours, his gaze intense and smoldering. You were enveloped in the intoxicating scent of him—sandalwood mingled with clean sweat, a hint of something uniquely Leon that made your pulse quicken. He trailed a calloused finger down your cheek, over your jaw, his touch sending shivers through your body. “My good girl. My perfect wife. Gonna give you a baby tonight. Gonna try so damn hard,” he murmured against your skin, the promise of his words lingering in the air as he lowered his head, capturing your lips in a deep, claiming kiss.
The kiss was not rushed; it was slow and thorough, a tantalizing prelude to the intimacy that lay ahead. You melted into him, your fingers tangling in his silver-streaked hair, feeling the strength of his body close to yours. “Please, baby, I know you can do it,” you urged, your voice breathless. He groaned into the kiss, the sound vibrating through you, deep and primal, as your fingers twisted in his soft hair. His hands roamed down your sides, settling possessively on your hips, his grip firm and reassuring. When he finally broke the kiss, his breathing was heavier, his blue eyes darkened with raw desire, filled with an unmistakable hunger for the moment that was unfolding between you.
Leon’s voice trembles with raw emotion, a gravelly whisper that sends shivers down your spine. “That's my girl. Always believing in me, even when I don't deserve it.” He shifts closer, kneeling between your legs, his eyes roaming over your body with a heat that ignites your skin, setting it alight with awareness. His fingers skim the waistband of your pants, their touch both gentle and deliberate as he begins to peel them down your legs, sending your heartbeat racing. The cool air envelopes your exposed skin, creating a contrast that heightens your senses, but it's the intensity of his gaze that keeps that warmth radiating within you. With a swift motion, he tosses your clothing aside, his voice low and teasing, “Look at you. So beautiful for me. Always so ready.”
His gaze lingers on the curve of your thighs, hunger flickering in his eyes. Leaning closer, he brushes his lips against the delicate skin of your inner thigh, the gentle pressure of his soft, open-mouthed kiss sending a shiver through you. The subtle scratch of his stubble adds an enticing contrast to the warmth of your skin, igniting a spark of sensation that makes you gasp softly, “Oh…fuck, it feels so good.” His breath ghosts hot against your thigh before he delivers another kiss, higher this time, closer to your core. You can feel the damp heat of his mouth through the thin hair. He nuzzles there for a moment, inhaling your scent deeply, a low growl rumbling in his chest.
He muttered against your skin, “You smell so fucking good, baby. Like heaven and sin all mixed.” He shifts again, his hands sliding under your ass to tilt your hips up, exposing you completely to his gaze and the lamplight. His eyes are heavy-lidded, yet they blaze with an intense, possessive fire, taking in the scene before him with a hunger that speaks volumes. Each glance is charged with a mixture of desire and determination, revealing an unmistakable fervor that captures the very essence of his longing for your wet, glistening pussy. “Look at this messy little cunt. Already dripping for me, isn't it? My needy girl.”
You let out a soft whimper, the sound almost bittersweet as you nodded. “Yes, honey, just for you… always for you.” A satisfied breath escaped his lips at your submission, his thumbs digging into the tender flesh of your inner thighs, sending shivers up your spine. The warmth of his touch was both possessive and electrifying, igniting a fire deep within you as he held you captive in that moment, spreading you wider. He lowers his head, and you feel the hot, wet swipe of his tongue through your folds, slow and deliberate. It's not teasing; it's claiming. He laps at your arousal, groaning as he tastes you, his stubble rough against your tender skin.
Leon lifted his head, his lips glistening, “Fuck, you taste even better. Like you were made just for my mouth.” He doesn't wait for a reply, diving back in with a fervor that steals your breath. His tongue flicks over your clit, once, twice, then settles into a relentless, circling rhythm. One of his hands moves from your thigh to slide two fingers into your soaking cunt, curling them deep inside you. The dual sensation of his mouth and fingers working in tandem is overwhelming. Your gummy walls closed in on his fingers like a viper, his fingers getting soaked by your wetness.
His words muffled against you, “That's it, baby. Cum on my face. Get your pretty pussy all messy for me before I fuck it full of my seed.”
You whimpered as you buck your hips, “Please... more, god please more!” He answers your plea with a low, guttural sound of approval, his fingers pushing deeper, crooking against that sweet, spongy spot inside you that makes your back arch off the sheets. His tongue becomes more insistent, flicking rapidly over your clit while he sucks gently, the tension envelops you, relentless and overwhelming. You can sense the roughness of his beard brushing against the tender skin of your inner thighs, a stark juxtaposition to the warm, soft moisture of his mouth. Each moment adds to the intoxicating mix of sensation, heightening your awareness and igniting a fiery yearning within.
He retracted slightly, creating a sliver of space between them, his breath hot against your skin. The words escaped his lips in a gritty, husky whisper that sent shivers down your spine, “You gonna...cum for me, baby? Gonna scream for your husband?” Leon doesn't let you answer, diving back in with a renewed hunger, his fingers pumping in and out of your slick cunt, the wet, squelching sounds obscene in the quiet room. His other hand grips your hip hard, holding you steady against his onslaught, his own hips shifting restlessly against the mattress.
You grind your hips against his face, forcing his tongue deeper, and he takes it with a groan of pure ecstasy. His fingers curl harder inside you, pressing relentlessly against your G-spot while his mouth works your clit into a frenzied, throbbing peak. The pressure coils tight in your belly, a spring about to snap. His voice was a muffled command against your flesh, “That's it, baby. Come on. Do it. Soak my fucking face.”
The orgasm crashes over you without warning, a white-hot wave of pleasure that rips a sharp, broken cry from your throat. Your body convulses, thighs trembling violently around his head as you squirt your release against his mouth and chin. He drinks it down greedily, his tongue lapping at your pulsating cunt until the last shudder passes through you. Leon lifted his head, his face glistening, and his breathing heavy, “Good girl. Such a good fucking girl for me.”
You pant softly, looking at him with a dazed look, “Come on, Leon...pop a pill for me. Fuck me good, please.” He watches you descend, his gaze intense, brimming with a mix of pride and insatiable desire. With a deliberate movement, he wipes the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, a subtle gesture that accentuates his confidence. A slow, possessive smirk spreads across his lips, radiating a sense of ownership that sends a shiver down your spine. As he reaches for the nightstand drawer, the sound of it sliding open reverberates through the quiet room, sharp and pronounced, breaking the stillness like the promise of something imminent in the post-orgasmic quiet. He reached into the drawer and withdrew a small, discreet blister pack, his fingers moving deftly but betraying a slight tension coursing through his shoulders—the lingering shadow of regrets. With a soft, purposeful click, he extracted a single pill, the glossy surface catching the light for just a moment. "For you, baby," he said, his voice low and intimate, "Anything for you."
He dry-swallows the pill, his Adam's apple bobbing with the effort, and then he pivots back toward you. The moment his eyes meet yours, the usual intensity shifts to something softer, more tender, as he notices the dazed, blissful look etched across your face. With a gentle yet purposeful movement, he leans in closer, his breath mingling with yours before his lips find yours in a deep, intoxicating kiss. In that moment, he allows you to taste the essence of your own arousal on his tongue. Leon broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, “Just need a few minutes. Then I'm gonna ruin this pretty little pussy. Gonna fuck a baby so deep inside you, you'll feel me for days.”
You pressed your lips against his, diving deep into the kiss as you gently sucked on his tongue. “No rush, baby...because I love you regardless,” you whispered, your words hanging in the air like a promise. A low groan escaped him, reverberating against your mouth as his body responded with a shudder, the warmth of your connection igniting something primal within him. When he finally pulled back, his crystal-blue eyes shimmered with an intoxicating mix of desire and vulnerability, the depth of emotion etched into his weathered face.
With a trembling thumb, he caressed your cheek, his touch both tender and electric. His voice emerged, thick and laced with raw feeling, “God, baby... I don't know what I did to deserve you.”
He shifted on the bed, drawing you closer into his embrace. You nestled against him, your head resting comfortably beneath his chin, the steady cadence of his heartbeat a reassuring balm against your ear. The silence enveloped you like a warm blanket, filled with an unspoken understanding that transcended words. After a few moments of this serene intimacy, you felt a subtle flutter against your thigh—the Viagra coursing through him, heightening the palpable tension that crackled in the air between you. His cock hardens insistently against you. He whispered into your hair, “It's working, baby. You feel that? All for you.” His hand slides down your back, over the curve of your ass, his touch reverent and hungry. He guides you onto your back again, his body covering yours, his erection pressing against your still-sensitive, wet pussy. He doesn't enter you yet, just grinds against you slowly, letting you feel the full, thick length of him through the friction.
“Gonna take my time with you. Gonna make sure my seed finds a home.”
You let out a soft, lingering moan as you nestled your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. The warmth of his skin against yours sent shivers down your spine as you whispered, “Please, Leon, knock up this slutty pussy.” A dark, possessive smile spreads across his face at your words. His hips press down more firmly, the thick head of his cock nudging against your slick entrance, spreading your arousal. He braces himself on one arm, his other hand cupping your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his intense gaze.
Leon whispered, “That's right. My little slut. My wife. Gonna put a baby in this perfect cunt if it's the last thing I do.” He shifts his hips, and with a slow, deliberate push, he begins to enter you. The stretch is exquisite, familiar, and yet always overwhelming. He fills you inch by agonizing inch, his eyes locked on yours, watching every flicker of sensation cross your face. The feeling of him, hard and thick and perfect inside you, steals the air from your lungs. He groaned, his eyes closing from the tightness, “Fuck... you're so tight. Soaking wet, but still so fucking tight for me.” He bottoms out, his hips flush against yours, and stays there for a long moment, both of you breathing heavily. He begins to move, a slow, deep roll of his hips that has you seeing stars. Each thrust is measured, purposeful, grinding against that deep, sensitive spot that makes your toes curl—the wet, slick sounds of your joining mix with his ragged breaths.
You let out a soft moan, unable to contain your pleasure as your fingers glided over his skin, nails trailing down his back with a hint of urgency. “Fuck…so good, love your old cock.” The words slipped from your lips, heavy with desire. You could hear his breath catch, a sharp, ecstatic sound that fueled the fire between you. As your nails pressed deeper, leaving a mark behind, it was as if the slight sting only ignited his passion further, driving him to give you even more, his thrusts gaining a fraction more intensity, each deep, grinding push hitting your cervix with a jolt that borders on pleasure and pain. He lowers his head, his lips finding your neck, sucking a dark mark into your smooth, youthful skin.
Leon let out a possessive growl against your throat, “You love this old cock? This worn-out dick that needs a pill to get hard for his perfect young wife?” He punctuates the self-deprecating question with a particularly deep, punishing thrust that makes you gasp. His hand slides from your jaw down to your throat, not squeezing, just holding, a firm, dominant pressure that makes you feel utterly claimed. His hips set a relentless, slow rhythm, the thick length of him stretching your needy pussy with every movement. Leon pulled back to look you in the eyes, his own blazing, “Tell me again. Tell me you love it.”
His thrusts become less measured, more primal, the force of them rocking your body against the silk sheets. The headboard meets the wall with a gentle, rhythmic thud, creating a cadence that echoes through the room. Every ounce of his strength, concentration, and yearning is poured into this intimate exchange, his body taut with effort as he strives to fulfill the deep desires you both share. You can feel the tension building within you as you begin to arch your back to meet his powerful thrusts, soft breaths escaping your lips as you whisper, “I love it, babe! I love your old cock...please harder! Please!” Your whines were filling the room, high and pleading.
A primal, guttural sound erupts from his chest as he responds to your pleas, a deeply resonant blend of triumph and unrestrained lust that sends shivers down your spine. His hand grips your throat, firm yet measured—enough to leave you breathless, but not enough to stifle your air. The raw intensity of his dominance envelops you, a palpable force that pulses between you, electric and commanding. His hips snap forward with a new, brutal force, driving his cock so deep it feels like he's branding your insides. The wet, slapping sounds of your bodies meeting fill the room, a filthy soundtrack to his possession. “You want it harder, baby?” Leon said with a voice strain, “You want this old man to fuck you like he's twenty again?” He shifts his angle, lifting your hips higher, and the next thrust rams directly into your cervix, a sharp, blinding burst of sensation that makes you cry out. His balls slap against your ass with each powerful drive, the sensation raw and animalistic. Sweat drips from his brow onto your chest, his muscles corded with the effort of maintaining the punishing pace.
Leon’s eyes gleamed with wild intensity, a mix of excitement and fear. He muttered under his breath, “Gonna....breed you. Gonna pump this cunt so full of cum it drips out of you for days.”The rough rhythm of his movements caused your breasts to bounce as you screamed in pleasure, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Leon, please! I want to carry your baby!” You yelled out, feeling your nails drag down his back.
His rhythm becomes frantic, losing all pretense of control. It's pure, raw instinct now-the primal drive to claim, to seed, to possess. Every muscle in his body is coiled tight, radiating energy and determination. His face, a canvas of intense focus, reflects both fierce concentration and a desperate, all-consuming love that seems to intertwine with every breath he takes. You can feel the tension coiling in his hips, the telltale throbbing deep inside you as he nears his peak. The air is thick with the scent of sex and sweat, his grunts and your cries mingling in the lamplight. “Fuck... I'm gonna... I'm gonna cum, baby!” Leon screamed out; his voice was rough.
With one final, earth-shattering thrust, he buries himself to the hilt and stills. A guttural roar rips from his throat as he pours his release deep into your womb, his cock pulsing violently inside you, flooding your sensitive cunt with hot, thick cum. His entire body shudders with the force of his orgasm, his grip on you bruisingly tight as he empties himself. Leon collapsed atop you, breathless, his face buried in your neck, “Oh, God…(Y/N)…”
“Leon!” You let out a loud, shaky whine. Your body convulses beneath him, a second, sharper orgasm tearing through you as you feel his hot seed flooding your depths. Your inner muscles clench and milk his still-pulsing cock, drawing out every last drop with involuntary, greedy spasms. The sensation washes over you like a tidal wave, an intense, white-hot cascade of pleasure that ignites every nerve, leaving you trembling and gasping for air. Your cries are stifled against the warmth of his sweat-slicked shoulder, the salty taste of him lingering on your lips.
His body, heavy and spent, rests on top of you, a comforting weight as his ragged breaths create warm gusts against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “That's it, baby… take it all. Take every exquisite drop,” he murmurs, his voice a low, husky command that stirs something deep within you. He stays inside you for a long moment, both of you panting and shuddering in the aftermath. Slowly, carefully, he rolls onto his side, taking you with him so you're curled against his chest, still intimately joined. His arms wrap around you, holding you close as his cock slowly softens within your well-used, messy cunt. His cum begins to seep out, a warm trickle against your thigh.
Leon stroked your hair with a trembling hand, his voice hoarse and thick with emotion, “I love you so much, baby. More than anything.” He kisses your forehead, your eyelids, your cheeks-soft, reverent kisses that contrast sharply with the animalistic intensity of moments before. The lamp casts a soft glow over the two of you, tangled together in the rumpled silk sheets, the room smelling of sex and love and hope.
You pressed your lips softly against his, savoring the tender moment. “I love you so much, Leon,” you whispered, your voice filled with warmth. “Even with your old age, I need no one else. Just you.” He responded with a shaky, contented sigh that brushed against your skin, his body sinking deeper into the softness of the mattress beneath you. His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer as if you were the most precious treasure in his universe. In the stillness that surrounded you, the only sounds were the gentle rhythm of your mingled breaths and the distant, soothing hum of the city, a world alive far below the serene sanctuary of the penthouse. His cum continues to seep from your well-fucked pussy, a warm, sticky testament to his efforts, pooling on the sheet beneath you.
“You're my whole world, baby girl. This old heart doesn't beat for anyone but you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, each word laced with the weight of devotion. He shifts slightly, his softening cock slipping free with a wet, soft sound. He doesn't let you go, instead pulling the silk sheet up over your cooling bodies, tucking it around your shoulders. His hand rests possessively on your lower belly, his thumb stroking slow, gentle circles over the skin where he hopes his seed is taking root. His eyes closing, a tired, hopeful smile touching his lips, “Let's just stay like this for a while. You feel so perfect in my arms.”
You giggled softly, humming while looking down at his spent cock. “Honey…” you whispered, your voice soft and inviting. Your playful giggle lingered in the air, a tantalizing invitation that drew him closer, the air thick with anticipation. His eyes, heavy-lidded with post-coital bliss, crack open to see you looking down at his spent cock with a mischievous glint. A slow, understanding smile spreads across his face, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling deeply.
Leon chuckled, a low, tired but indulgent sound, “Insatiable little thing, aren't you? My greedy girl.” His hand moves from your belly, sliding down through the sticky mess between your thighs. His fingers, still slick with your combined release, find your sensitive, swollen clit. He begins to rub slow, gentle circles, his touch feather-light but deliberate, a stark contrast to the earlier fervor. “You want another one, baby? Want your husband to make you cum again on his fingers?”
He watches your face intently, his thumb applying just the right amount of pressure to make you shudder. The sensation is a slow, building thrum of pleasure, coaxing your oversensitive body back towards the edge. His other arm remains a solid, comforting weight around you, holding you close against his side. You whimpered softly as you rock your hips, “Yes, honey...But I also want to suck your cock...think it's possible?”
His breath catches at your request, a mix of surprise and raw, immediate arousal flashing in his tired blue eyes. The gentle circles his thumb was tracing on your clit still for a moment as he processes your words. A deep, appreciative groan escapes from his chest, vibrating with a mix of urgency and pleasure. Leon’s voice drips with a thick, renewed desire as he breathes out, "Christ, baby... You're going to give me a heart attack. In the best fucking way." His body shifts on the bed, movements languid yet purposeful, each gesture accentuating the fresh hunger glimmering in his gaze, that fiery intensity making the atmosphere electric. He guides you gently, turning you so you're lying alongside his body, your head level with his hips. His semi-soft cock lies against his thigh, already beginning to stir again under your intense, wanting look. The sight of it, glistening with your mixed fluids, is intensely intimate.
Leon propped himself up on one elbow, a lazy yet captivating smile playing on his lips as his free hand gently wove through your hair, fingers gliding like a feather. “You can have anything you want. Always. You know that,” he murmured, his voice a blend of sincerity and warmth. He then sank back against the soft, plush pillows, his body appearing relaxed and at ease, yet his gaze burned with an intense, possessive heat, capturing your attention as he watched you with unwavering focus. His cock, responding to your focused attention, begins to fill out again, thickening and lengthening against his stomach. The scent of sex is heavy in the air, a potent aphrodisiac.
You gently bit your lower lip, a playful smile dancing across your face. “See, babe? Maybe you don’t always need that pill,” you teased, your voice light and teasing. He responded with a rough, choked laugh, vibrant and raw, a sound that echoed with a blend of affection, embarrassment, and a hint of sheer wonder. His eyes sparkled with emotions, revealing a vulnerability that was both charming and endearing, as if your words had unlocked something deep within him. His cock, now fully hard again without any pharmaceutical aid, stands proud against his belly, a testament to the effect you have on him. A faint blush creeps up his neck, visible even in the soft lamp light.
Leon shook his head in disbelief, his brow furrowing with intensity. His voice, thick and husky, carried a weight of longing as he said, “Only for you, baby. My body... it only ever remembers how to want you.” He reaches down, his hand not guiding you but instead wrapping around the base of his own cock, giving it a slow, firm stroke. Pre-cum beads at the tip, glistening. He holds himself steady for you, his gaze dark and utterly captivated. “It's all yours, baby. Do whatever you want to it. It's yours to play with.”
He watches, his breath hitching as you lean in, the heat of your breath ghosting over the sensitive head. The possessive, adoring look in his eyes is overwhelming. You began to kitten lick his swollen tip, humming softly while looking up at him, “Think you can finger fuck my pussy, Leon? While I suck you dry?” A sharp, gratified hiss escapes his lips as your tongue makes contact, the warm, wet touch sending a jolt straight through his spent body. His hips give a tiny, involuntary buck off the mattress. The sight of you looking up at him, eyes sparkling with mischief and affection, is captivating. Your tongue teasingly dances across his most sensitive skin, creating an overwhelming intensity that’s hard to bear.
“Fuck, yes...Anything you want.”
His free hand, the one not holding his cock, slides down your body. His fingers, still slick from your previous orgasm, find your wet, messy cunt with unerring accuracy. He doesn't hesitate, pushing two fingers deep inside you, curling them to press against that spongy spot that makes you gasp around his tip.
Leon groaned as your kitten licks become more purposeful, “That's it, baby... suck your husband’s cock. Let me feel that pretty mouth.” His fingers begin a slow, deep rhythm inside you, pumping in and out while his thumb finds your clit, applying a steady, circling pressure. The dual sensation of being filled and having your mouth on him is overwhelming, a feedback loop of pleasure. He watches you, his eyes heavy-lidded with bliss, completely lost in the worship of your body. Your throat opens for him, taking his full length in one smooth, deep swallow until your nose is pressed into the coarse hair at the base. As you arched your back, a soft moan escaped your lips, filling the air with a sense of pleasure. Your head moved with a gentle rhythm, each bob creating an intimate dance that heightened the moment. The feeling of him hitting the back of your throat makes him groan, a deep, guttural sound of pure ecstasy. His fingers inside you curl harder, pressing relentlessly against your G-spot as you bob your head, setting a rhythm that has his hips twitching beneath you.
“Oh, God... honey... that mouth... your perfect fucking mouth…” He gasped with a shudder. His fingers work you in time with your movements, a filthy, wet squelch accompanying each thrust of his hand. His thumb rubs tight, insistent circles on your clit, the stimulation relentless. Pre-cum leaks from his tip onto your tongue, a salty, musky taste that you swallow greedily. His body is taut, every muscle straining as he fights not to thrust up into your throat. Through gritted teeth, his free hand tangling in your hair, “Don't stop, baby... gonna make me cum again... gonna fill that sweet mouth…”
The sight of you looking up at him with those doe-like eyes, your lips stretched around his girth and drool slicking your chin, is his undoing. A ragged, broken cry tears from his throat as your hum vibrates through his sensitive cock. His fingers inside you stutter, then press deeper, fucking into your wet cunt with renewed fervor. His thumb grinds hard against your clit. His voice shattered, his body trembling, “That's it... fuck, that's it... I'm cumming, baby... gonna... Ah, God!” His orgasm hits him like a tidal wave, his cock pulsing violently down your throat. Hot, thick spurts of cum flood your mouth, the taste salty and primal. His hips buck off the bed uncontrollably as he empties himself, his release seeming endless. His fingers inside you curl and press, milking a sharp, shuddering climax from your own oversensitive body in tandem with his.
He collapses back against the pillows, spent and breathless, his hand falling from your hair to rest weakly on the sheet. You swallowed the cum, popping your lips from his cock as your legs trembled from the orgasm. “Love... thank you,” You whimpered, trying to recover from the climax.
He lies utterly spent beneath you, his chest rising and falling in deep, ragged breaths that seem to echo in the quiet room. His eyes are softly closed, and a serene expression washes over his face, smoothing out the worry lines that once etched his brow. The gentle rise and fall of his body creates a rhythm that is both soothing and intimate, a silent testament to the exhaustion that has surrendered to tranquility. His softening cock slips from your lips with a wet, final sound, resting against his thigh, glistening with your saliva and his release. The room is enveloped in an almost palpable silence, broken only by the sound of your shared breaths—rapid and filled with intensity. Outside, a faint hum from the bustling city pulses like a heartbeat, a distant reminder of life continuing beyond these walls.
“No... thank you, my angel. My perfect girl.”
With a hand that trembles ever so slightly, he reaches up to tenderly swipe away the drool that drips from your chin, his thumb grazing your skin with a softness that feels almost reverent. The warmth of his touch offers a striking contrast to the passionate intensity that filled the moments before. He gently pulls you upwards, guiding your body against his until you're nestled on his chest, your head resting comfortably beneath his chin. His arms encircle you like a protective cocoon, drawing you in closer and holding you securely against him, as if he never wants to let go. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat underlines the intimacy of the moment. The scent of sex and sweat and him is overwhelming, a comforting, possessive blanket. He kissed the top of your head, his voice thick with emotion, “You're everything. Everything to me.”
“You're everything to me too, love,” you murmured, your fingers gliding over the warmth of his chest. The air around you felt charged, a blend of hope and intimacy. “Do you think I got knocked up this time?” He let out a slow, deep breath, his chest expanding and contracting beneath your caress. The room fell into a serene silence, punctuated only by the soft sounds of your breathing. With a gentle assurance, his hand shifted from your back, his fingers intertwining with yours over his heart, a silent promise binding you both in this moment.
For what felt like an eternity, he held you close, his thumb tracing soothing patterns over your knuckles, as if trying to imprint the warmth of this shared moment into his memory. “God, I hope so, baby,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, laced with a raw, tender emotion that belied his usual strength. “I felt... deep this time. Real deep.” His other hand slid down, palm pressing against your lower belly with a surprising gentleness, as if he were already trying to nurture life within you. The heat from his skin seeped into yours, the lingering traces of your shared passion making the touch both intimate and electric.
He pressed down softly, as if he could sense the potential life he wished so fervently to see flourish there. The lamplight enveloped him, catching the silver strands of his hair and illuminating the deep, loving lines etched around his eyes. As he gazed down at you, his expression was soft, almost reverent. “If anyone could make it happen... It's you. Your body was made for this. For me.” He shifts slightly, wincing as his old muscles protest the movement, and reaches over to the nightstand for a clean cloth from the drawer. He dampens it slightly with water from a glass, then begins to gently clean the sticky, cooling mess from between your thighs with a tenderness that aches. His touch is meticulous, caring, wiping away the evidence of his efforts while his eyes remain locked on your face. Leon whispered as he worked, “Whatever happens... you're my miracle. You know that, right?”
You pressed your lips gently to the tip of his nose, a tender gesture that spoke volumes. “You're my miracle too, Leon...we should try again tomorrow,” you whispered, your voice wrapping around the room like a warm embrace.
He emitted a soft, choked sound at the unexpected kiss, his eyes shimmering like dew-kissed leaves in the dim light. The cloth he had been holding stilled in his hand as he gazed at you, really gazed, his eyes moving beyond the visage of the beautiful young woman cradled in his arms. Instead, he saw the fierce, loving soul that had chosen him, wrinkles, Vigra, and all. A solitary tear escaped from the corner of his eye, gliding down his cheek, tracing a shimmering path through the faint stubble that adorned his skin. He made no move to wipe it away, allowing it to symbolize the depth of his emotion.
“Tomorrow, and the next day, and every day after that,” he spoke, his voice trembling with an intensity that resonated in the quiet space. “For as long as this old body will let me.”
With infinite care, he continued to cleanse the remnants of the spent from your skin, every movement deliberate and tender. Once he finished, he tossed the cloth aside, letting it fall away like a forgotten memory. He then pulled the luxurious silk sheet up over both of you, tucking it snugly around your shoulders as if to cocoon you in safety and warmth. As he wrapped his arms around you once more, enveloping you so closely that you could feel the steady, rhythmic thumping of his heart against your ear, the outside world faded to silence.
The penthouse lay in a serene stillness, the jazzy notes from the record player long since melted into the quiet. Moonlight poured through the French doors, casting ethereal silver stripes across the dark, polished marble floor, painting a scene that encapsulated the two of you as you lay entwined—lost in a moment woven with threads of love, hope, and promise for tomorrow.
His voice drifts down to you like a soft, final murmur brushing against your hair, “Sleep now, baby girl. I got you.” His breathing gradually deepens into a steady, rhythmic cadence, a lullaby of tranquility, and his body envelops you, a warm, solid fortress that shields you from the world. His hand rests protectively over your lower belly, a silent, hopeful vigil held even in the realm of his dreams. You linger awake for a while longer, wrapped in the comforting cocoon of his presence. Despite the years that stretch between you, his maturity marked by the need for medication for something as intimate as sex, you accept him wholly, just as he begins to embrace himself. At last, he allows himself to indulge in the life he believed had slipped through his fingers, with you as his youthful wife and the future mother of his child.
You find yourself entwined with the steady thrum of his heart, a rhythm that has become the very soundtrack of your safety, your haven. The gentle rise and fall of his chest, slow and deep, signifies the sleep of a man who has finally found peace. In the quiet dark, you sense a faint tremor running through his muscles, a lingering echo of his efforts and emotional release. The hand resting on your belly carries weight, warmth—a permanent claim, a tangible connection between you both.
In his slumber, he murmurs, “My girl…love you.” His arm instinctively tightens around you, pulling you even closer against him. A soft sigh slips from his lips, and the worry that often creases his brow when he is awake smooths away entirely, leaving behind a visage of pure, unguarded contentment. In sleep, he appears younger, freed from the lines that map his worries.
As the moonlight shifts subtly across the floor, time stretches languidly onward. The city below lies still, a distant, slumbering beast. Enveloped in the profound silence of the penthouse, surrounded by dark wood and the watchful gaze of tenebrist paintings, the truth settles deep within your bones, grounding you in this moment of serenity.
This is your life now—a beautiful tapestry woven from choice, not compromise or sacrifice. Every line etched into his face tells a story; his age, scar, and the little pill in the drawer are not flaws to endure, but rich consistencies that illustrate the man you love. He envelops you in his arms, holding you tightly as if you are his sole anchor in an often chaotic world. As the day fades, your eyelids grow heavy, a gentle pull toward restful oblivion. The comforting warmth radiating from his body, the rhythmic sound of his heartbeat, and the reassuring weight of his hand resting possessively on you create a cocoon of safety, lulling you into a deep, peaceful sleep.
In your dreams, a future unfolds before you, painted in the same deep, rich hues as your present—a vision of a child with his striking blue eyes and soft blond hair, laughing joyfully in this serene, lavish space you’ve created together. It feels like a promise, a glimpse of the life that is yet to come.
in which, NOLAN GRAYSON is a good man; he can't help but assist his neighbor in times of need.
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includes: nolan grayson x fem!reader, mature content (17+) age gap (nolan - 40's [human years], reader -20's), spoiler alert nolan grayson is not a good man, finger sucking, manipulative!nolan grayson, cheating / infidelity, oral (f. receiving), prone bone, piv, semi-public sex, dirty talk, outdoor sex, making out, fingering, spit, coercive undertones, 4.1k words.
‧₊˚✩彡
kinktober masterlist.
MOVING INTO your own home had consisted of a lot of things; learning which vacuums cleaned your rugs the best, how to change a lightbulb on your own, and even to fix a leaky faucet. the myriad of adult tasks you had suddenly become well acquainted with were simple-- standard for every newly young adult.
but the one thing you could not figure out for the life of you-- was how to work your lawn-mower. the instructions, you figured, mays well have been written in hieroglyphics. every tug and every shove you brought down onto the crappy machine didn't seem to whirl it to life, nor did it enlighten you on how to fix the stupid thing.
standing under the sweltering sun of late summer, you were slowly becoming more and more agitated at what was supposed to be a simple, mindless task. you swiped your forehead with the back of your hand, placing your free hand on your hip; the lawn-mower sat irritatingly still in the middle of your back-yard, amongst even more irritatingly long grass. it tickled your bare ankles mockingly, and the stillness of the wind had you gnawing on your bottom lip in frustration.
out of habit, you glanced upwards and out, at your neighbor's houses. being the youngest home-owner on the block had been intimidating when you moved in, and the daunting fact hadn't become any less scary despite you living in the neighborhood for just over a year. the only people you had really talked to-- beyond a simple greeting or nod-- were the graysons.
nolan, debbie, and their son mark. a kind enough family with a white-picket fence life. you had thought, though, their kindness was due to the fact that you were directly next to them; it would have been virtually impossible for either of you to ignore the other. so debbie had brought you some muffins your first week in your home, and mark (surely forced by his parents) had shoveled your drive-way a few times in the winter. kind, standard. simple.
the eldest man in the house, however, hadn't paid you much mind; he waved curtly when his departure for work aligned with yours, and, on rare occasions, would strike up conversation when you were lounging on your deck and he was outside barbequing.
( "how's work treating you, sweetheart?" he asked, eyes barely looking up from the slowly smoking grill in front of him. standing on his deck, he was more than tall enough to see into your entire back-yard; including you, sun-bathing calmly on a deck chair.
your stomach flipped; certainly, he was just being kind-- right? "well," you scoffed lightly, "it's definitely treating me."
nolan chuckled. it was deep, warm, alluring; from the back of his throat, shooting tingles up your spine. "oh, poor girl," you watched him load a serving dish with burger patties, "somebody 'oughta look after you. work shouldn't be so stressful at your age."
you had blinked twice, irises flickering past the rim of your sunglasses. "right," you agreed, cogs turning in your head-- stuck on the implication of his words.
before you could question him, you heard his barbeque close. "have a nice rest of your evening," he waved, before slinking past the sliding-glass doors back into his house.
you couldn't stop replaying the moment. the graysons were kind, but... were they that kind? )
beyond your simple interactions, you would see him with debbie sometimes. on her way out for work in the mornings, he'd kiss her good-bye; they sometimes ran together, in the late evenings of spring, and you'd watch them circle your neighborhood in minutes-- it was intimate in ways you couldn't describe. fulfilling. if the sun was high in the sky at juuust the right time-- you could peer into the window of their dining room from your own; debbie would set the table, and nolan would be right there, massaging her shoulders as she sat, thanking her for the food, pressing kisses to her hair-line like she was made of glass.
though you'd never admit it, something ugly and bitter would stew deep in your gut; if you hadn't known any better, you'd think your cheeks would have been tinted with a ferocious shade of green-- envy.
nonetheless, the graysons were your neighbors. they were kind people, simple in the most domestic of ways, and had offered a steady hand should you need it in your journey of being an adult.
you didn't feel like an adult now, you remarked inwardly, rolling your eyes at the lawn-mower in front of you. you kicked it again, the machine barely moving under the force of your impact-- and you heard a chuckle from behind you.
"i don't think beating the thing up is going to make it work, honey," nolan grinned, arms crossed over his chest. you could see he wore a simple polo-shirt, the fabric straining against his biceps and chest; standing on the edge of his deck and peering over at you in your yard, the older man looked more than amused.
"oh," you breathed out, slightly startled at his voice; your smile slowly bloomed across your face, though a mild embarrassment crawled up your neck. "i don't know what's wrong with the thing! it won't start up," you exasperate, as if to defend your physical outburst at the machine.
nolan's head tilted to the side softly, eyes squinting at your lawn-mower as if he could see what was wrong with it from all the way in his yard. "did you put fresh gasoline in it?" he questioned, only to laugh a little at your displeased reaction.
"give me more credit than that, mr. grayson," you huffed, and nolan brought his arms up apologetically.
"sorry, sweetheart," he mused, before beginning to walk towards the gate to his back-yard. "here," he said, voice still carrying easily through and above your fence despite the fact that you couldn't see him anymore, "unlock your gate. i'll take a look at it."
you hesitated for only a second, before jogging over to your back-yard's gate and pushing it open; nolan stood, waiting, on the other side. up close, his cologne swarmed your senses, and you could see the gray hairs peppered within his facial hair and at his hair-line. you swallowed, willing yourself to keep your eyes above his neck--regardless of how fucking good the older man looked. standing aside, you held lazily gestured for him to come into your backyard. as he passed, he smiled kindly at you, placing a hand on your shoulder and giving a good squeeze.
the touch should have been kind, simple. but it had your core fluttering, and your knees buckling ever so slightly.
to say that you hadn't been ogling at your neighbor since you had moved in would be a lie. the way his arms flexed when he carried groceries into the house, or the way he tinkered so confidently in his garage on hot summer days was down-right vulgar.
it made you angry, sometimes; knowing that a man that fine was so much older than you, and married, with a son closer to your age than you'd like to admit; that he was something you couldn't have. when it was late at night though, and you were achingly alone in the confinements of your house-- you'd let your mind wander.
wander to all the ways you could play house with that married man; wander to the positions he'd bend and fold you into, wander to the filthy pledges he'd make to you while so impossibly deep inside, and wander to--
"it's your air filter that's the problem," nolan's voice broke you from your day-dreaming, and your eyebrows raised slightly.
"...i didn't even know that lawn-mowers had air-filters."
nolan laughed. it was enchanting-- the way his shoulders moved, head tilted ever so slightly; you moved to sit on your deck, purposefully choosing to squeeze your thighs together, willing the dull ache in your cunt to go away.
get a grip, you thought.
"well, she's clogged," he mused, crouching down in front of your lawn-mower, fiddling with the mechanical parts. "i can fix her up for you."
nolan's offer was generous-- even through its mundanity. "are you sure?" you questioned, fingers rolling and unrolling between the strap of your tank-top absentmindedly. "wouldn't wanna be a bother,"
the man paused, glancing upwards at you. he studied your frame, your cheeks suddenly growing hot. "'course." nolan said easily. "you're not a bother at all. besides, i wasn't doing anything important-- just waiting for the missus to get home,"
debbie briefly crossed your mind at the mention of her, and something akin to guilt flashed through your system. you and nolan weren't doing anything (yet) but the situation you had found yourself in still felt dangerously taboo. "what about mark?" you ask, mouth working faster than your brain.
one of nolan's eyebrows arched upwards, and he stood from in front of your lawn-mower. slowly, perhaps even casually, he crossed the yard to stand in front of you; he peered down, his shadow casted over you like a blanket of naivety. you shivered, despite the heat that seemed to absorb everything around you. "what about him?" he asked.
"uh," you sputtered, unsure of what to say-- what excuse you had to be asking nolan about where his son currently was. it wasn't like you could just confess, so we don't get caught. "well y'know, maybe you have plans with him; i don't to, um, impose on that--"
nolan interrupted you with a light chuckle, before his right hand found your jaw-- cradling it in his grasp like you were the most delicate thing in the universe. heat shot up your spine at the contact. "at his part-time job," the man answered easily. maybe you were hearing things, going utterly insane, but his voice seemed to drop several octaves. "won't be home for a few hours."
your mouth dried up, words shriveling and dying in your throat underneath the intensity of his gaze.
"why're you asking, sweetheart?" nolan questioned, and the nick-name-- god it was supposed to be kind, simple, normal-- made the heat between your thighs thicken intensely.
"well i- uh," you swallowed, blinking up at him, with the wheels turning in your head furiously. "i just wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong idea-- with you being here n' all,"
"wrong idea?" nolan asked, using his grip to force your face upwards at him even further. "i don't know what you mean by that."
fuck you mr. grayson, you thought inwardly, because it was obvious nolan knew what you meant. it would be obvious to anyone-- blaringly so. a married man had his hand gripping the life out of his controversially younger neighbor's chin, standing before her like she owed him something; all the while his wife and son were painfully unaware of what was happening just one door over to their home.
anyone with a brain could see where this was headed; and the thought of that made you shamefully wet.
"yes you do." you countered, whisper falling from your lips in protest. "you know what this looks like, mr. grayson."
nolan paused, tongue darting out to wet his lips, before leaning down to bring himself to your eye-level. the scent of his after-shave invaded your senses. "i'm just here to help my neighbor out," he said carefully; his voice was not unkind, warmth seeping from every syllable, but the words held power, "unless you had other things in mind."
silently and without thought, your eyes darted to his saliva coated lips, before flickering back to his blue irises.
nolan laughed, a short exhale out through his nose. "i think you have the wrong idea, sweet girl," he whispered. "s' that why you're always so nervous around me? can't help your thoughts?"
you swallowed deeply, mouth parting ever so slightly. by the way nolan was looking at you, speaking to you-- you'd think he could hear every nervous beat of your heart; pumping erratically, out of control at the closeness between the both of you.
his thumb swiped dangerously close to your bottom lip, before resting on the plush fat of it; he paused, before sticking it in your mouth, letting it rest on your tongue.
the saltiness of his finger was bewitching, and against all morality and common sense-- you began to suck. nolan hummed, feeling your hot spit coat his digit with ease. "just say what you want, pretty. i'll give it to you."
reaching upwards, you grasped his wrist tightly-- yanking his hand from your mouth. "i can't," you fought lamely, breathlessly. "it- it's wrong, you're married,"
"hey, shh," he cooed, holding your cheeks gently in his big hand, inadvertently smearing your spit along the plump of your face, "don't think like that." nolan whispered, eyes lowering to your lips, "you're not the one doin' anything wrong, you just need some help," moving closer, his face was mere inches away from you own, his breath-- despite its warmth-- chilling against your lips. "let me help you, princess,"
your eyelashes fluttered, your face so close to his you were certain he could feel the way they brushed rapidly against his cheek. "mr. grayson," you protested weakly, your resolve crumbling hastily.
nolan shushed you gently again, before pressing his lips to yours. the man was warm, tasting like cinnamon and pungent cologne; the stubble on his chin grazed the silk of your skin clumsily as you tilted your head to deepen the kiss; an arm leaving its spot on the deck to wrap around his neck. nolan smelled faintly of oil from your lawn-mower, the tool sitting lifelessly in the middle of your lawn like a reminder of why the man currently kissing the daylights out of you had initially come over.
his tongue, eventually, swiped against your bottom lip-- and your mouth parted easily to allow him access inside. it was intrusive-- but grounding-- the way it over-powered yours, so sloppy and desperate. when he began to suck, a low sound from deep in your throat escaped from you. so measly, so willing; nolan grunted in return, before yanking you upwards by your forearms. you stood now on your tip-toes on the deck-- still connected to your neighbor by the lips.
when you pulled away, desperate for air-- (how had nolan gone so long without breaking away for oxygen?)-- nolan looked down at you with squinted eyes. his lips were plump, swollen from the kissing-- and you were certain yours looked the same. he grinned slightly, watching you pant, before whispering: "see? sweet girl just needed my help,"
you hummed shakily in return, still slightly dazed from the kiss. sweltering summer sun beat down onto your skin-- not adding to the already badgering heat of the situation. your eyes blinked slowly, looking upwards at the man, who looked quite pleased with himself.
"lay down," he urged, nodding towards the lawn; "m' not finished."
you did as he said without protest, the grass prickling your palms, thighs, and back as you laid against the earth. your heart-beat pounded in your ears, and your eyes briefly darted to the grayson's house beside your own. another intense wave of guilt launched itself over-top of you, and your eyes screwed shut as you watched nolan get on the ground as well. he laid in a sniper position, riiight between your thighs, his calloused palms running up and down them.
"what's wrong?" he questioned, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the inside of your knees and up your thighs.
you shivered, arousal pooling messily beneath your panties as he trailed his way up, up and up towards your pussy. "i feel bad,"
nolan's fingers hooked into your shorts, yanking them downwards and past your ankles with ease. your panties went along with them, and the harshness of the air against your cunt made you shiver. the man pressed an index-finger, long and thick, straight to your slit-- and he huffed.
"sweetheart," he started, dragging the digit from your clit to your hole achingly slow, "y'can't feel that bad; look at how soaked this pretty little cunt is for me."
you gasped, hips bucking at the stimulation of his finger against your folds. he repeated the action a few more times, reveling in the way your body responded so avidly to his touch. "i-i do," you insisted gently; though it all went out the window as nolan leaned forward onto his forearms and spat directly onto your pussy. you both watched it glisten crudely underneath the hot glare of the sun, the liquid trailing down your folds slowly.
"mhm," nolan hummed, clearly disbelieving, before pressing his mouth to your cunt immediately. his stubble prickled and scratched at your thighs as his jaw loosened against your cunt. your back arched off the grass wildly as he licked one looong flat stripe up your folds, maintaining eye-contact with you as if his life depended on it.
"o-ohh holy shit!" you yelped, fists clenching and unclenching as his lips latched onto your clit, sucking on the sensitive bud with passion.
nolan worked diligently, his tongue swiping across your folds before dipping into you and tongue-fucking you with vigor. he hummed and groaned against your skin, the taste of your slick intoxicating to the older man. reaching beside him, he yanked your legs over his shoulders, inadvertently reaching deeper within your sopping cunt. "that's it," he grumbled against your pussy, muffled by your flesh, "fuckin' taste so good for me; dripping on my face. i knew you needed this,"
you were thrashing wildly at his motions, fists meeting the firm soil beneath you repeatedly. "fuuuck," you whined, clearly too high off of being ate out to have any care that your other neighbors might hear you.
the feeling of nolan's fingers, two of them, prodding at your entrance stole the breath from your lungs. there was only a moment of this, though, before he shoved them both inside you-- tongue still lapping at your clit with an unkempt regard. they curled almost immediately against your g-spot, and your hips jerked recklessly.
"g-god, shit, mr. grayson, m'going to cum," you warned breathlessly, chin tilting backwards as nolan remained unrelenting at his actions. his left palm rested on the outside of your thigh, gripping the flesh tightly-- the metal of his wedding band burned against your skin.
he groaned at your confession, eyes darting up to your face again. "yeah?" he asked, despite feeling the way your legs vibrated against his head-- thighs practically keeping him glued to your cunt. "cum on my face, sweetheart."
his words pushed you over the edge-- your cunt spasmed uncontrollably against his face and fingers, clenching and unclenching, gripping his digits as if you needed them to survive. your palm flew to your mouth to muffle your moans, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes at the pure intensity of your orgasm. even as nolan gently finger-fucked you through it, it still was profound. cum and slick seeped from your pussy, and when nolan pulled his face from your core, the bottom half of his face glistened.
"you think that was good?" he questioned, sitting up ever so slightly to undo his belt buckle-- the sound of his metal belt clasp ringing throughout your yard.
you nodded, voice far too hoarse from your screaming to respond in words. when you felt nolan's palms on you again, you hadn't expected him to flip you with such ease-- but suddenly you were laying on your stomach, blades of grass digging into your flesh.
there was silence for a few moments-- before you felt nolan's cock head prod your cunt open. his shadow casted over your frame easily, and his chest was to your back; nolan pressed a chaste kiss to the skin right behind your ear, his voice gravelly as he spoke. "wait til' i split you open with my cock; then you'll see what's 'good.'"
it was nearly impossible to fight back the moan that spilled from your lips at the filth of his words-- the late summer heat doing nothing in aiding your quickly over-heating system.
before you knew it, the familiar burn of being streeetched open shocked your core. nolan's breathing grew ragged against your neck as he slowly pushed himself inside of your weeping cunt, every vein and every ridge of his dick tearing you apart.
a sob tore itself from your lips-- nolan was big.
"i know," he cooed, peppering kisses along your neck in an attempt to soothe you, "you're doing good-- such a big, strong girl taking-- haah-- this fat cock,"
"you're too big," you cried, legs shaking already-- you felt fatally full of him, your pussy being stretched beyond anything you had ever experienced before.
"you can take it." nolan reassured steadily, continuing to sheath himself further within your cunt. "fuck-- you're so tight," he groaned. "strangling my dick, my pretty girl,"
when his hips finally met the plush of your ass, nolan bottoming out inside you-- both of you gasped. it felt like he was in your throat--! nolan's cock twitched, and your name fell from his mouth like an expletive.
birds fluttered above you both, hot sun beating down onto nolan's back as he finally began to fuck you. it was gentle at first, his hips rocking as you adjusted to the size of him-- the pain that was just so fucking good-- before you started to moan out of pleasure. when nolan heard your tiny gasps and mewls, watching your hands desperately claw at the earth beneath you-- his pace quickened.
nolan grunted against the shell of your ear, cock bullying your insides. "never been fucked like this, have you, sweet girl?"
you shook your head no, eyes rolling into the back of your skull-- his dick making you see stars.
"that's right," he moaned softly, hips snapping into your ass with unabashed fervor. "god-- you should've just asked for this sooner, baby,"
when you gasped, craning your neck to look back at him-- you saw beads of sweat dripping down his temple, landing obscenely onto your back. "w-what?" you questioned, in between moans.
"do you think i-- hah-- haven't seen the way you've been looking at me since you moved in?" he asked, grinding his cock into your g-spot, v-line resting crudely against your ass. "knew you wanted me the second you saw me. but-- such a sweet girl you are-- you didn't do anything 'cause you knew i'm married,"
you moaned whoreishly feeling his cock jump and pulse within you, your own cunt responding by squeezing him-- holding him in, unwilling to let go-- firmly.
"s'okay," nolan murmured against your skin, cock throbbing as he rammed himself in and out of you over and over and over again. "i can take care of you," he groaned, sentence interrupted by a deep moan, "i can take care of this pussy."
"mr. grayson, fuck--! m'coming again," you squealed, orgasm crashing over you with such ferocity, you swear you black out. your pussy spasms and twitches, milking nolan's cock, your entire system drowning in bliss.
the older man swore, forehead pressing to the crown of your head mere moments later-- his thrusting simply uncontrolled and unabashed. wave after wave of your pleasure, nolan made sure to fuck you as deep and as hard as he could before pulling out and coating your ass in his cum.
hot ropes of cum shot all over your ass, and nolan groaned deeply, feeling his release entirely coating the plush of your behind.
"god," he swallowed, bringing a palm to your ass to smear his cum all over your skin. you're still far too cock-drunk to speak, head pressing into the ground of your back-yard lazily. "you were so good for me, sweetheart," you hear nolan coo, although his voice grows distant as he stands; the sound of his belt being done up makes you blink up at him hazily.
nolan stands, looking over your fucked-out form; his eyes squint, like he's burning the image into his memory-- unwilling to let it ever disappear. he bends down after a while to grab your panties and shorts, adjusting and moving your legs to hike them past your hips once again. the man gives a simple pat to your now covered ass, before standing again.
"i'll fix your lawn-mower for you; it shouldn't take me long," he speaks casually, as if he didn't just fuck you into oblivion. his grasp on the metal handle is sturdy, confident. "you let me know if you need help with anything else though, sweetheart," nolan says, pushing your lawn-mower towards your back-yard gate with ease. "that's what neighbors are for, right?"
PLUVOiA 25’ ® - masterlist
loren's thots: give me this senior citizen RN bro................ debbie better than me idk how she only had one baby w him cs i woulda had like 26. also wooo kinktober day 1 smashed i hope yall liked this dilf dedicated day
healing kisses for Kashimo (๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑)
18+, minors dni
cw: blood, injury, graphic use of rct, medical jargon, sexual tension, power imbalance, unclear dynamics, hair pulling, praise, improper use of ce/electrocution, spit, tongue numbing, blowjob, mild impact play, virgin!kashimo
note: this feels so messy :(
“Do not make this weird.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“How?”
“There is yearning the way you breathe.”
You furrow your brows and tilt your head just right to catch a glimpse of Kashimo’s face, currently distorted by pain, impatience, and other uncomfortable feelings. Nose scrunched up, lips curling downwards, eyes narrowed. The picture of defiance. From his chin down, it’s a completely different story.
Kashimo’s chest heaves with shallow breaths he takes, sweat beading where his pecs meet at the dip of his sternum. His abdomen, that’s a huge fucking mess of blood and open wounds.
“Yes, a yearning for you not to complain so we can get this over with,” you reply flatly. This man is truly infuriating, finding strength in himself to whine about how you do your job while he’s literally bleeding out on your bed. Even Gojo Satoru himself is capable of being more professional about your healing methods than the grumpy Culling Game player. “I can also just let you suffer, you know.”
Kashimo’s hand shoots out to land firmly in your hair, gripping a fistful of your locks. He tugs your head down with a grunt. “Try it. See what happens.”
You let out a soft gasp of surprise but only grin to yourself at the man’s sudden change in attitude. He can’t see your face in that position anyway. His threats are hard to take seriously when he’s the one literally at your mercy, but you refrain from commenting on that.
Instead, you focus on opening the imaginary tap of reverse cursed energy inside you and part your lips just above Kashimo’s subtly fluttering abdomen. You’ve cleaned up most of the blood, but it still seeps out slowly in every other place whenever the muscles clench too hard. Your first breath is just air and some dampness, tickling Kashimo’s achy skin.
The next comes out loaded with something warm and smooth. It flows from between your lips over Kashimo’s flesh like dry ice, creating small, foggy clouds before starting to ooze into the tissue. The thigh stuck between your own legs tenses up under you when Kashimo feels your work start to take effect.
It would be relieving, comforting even, if not for the fact that your lips, swollen from your cursed technique, keep brushing against the sorcerer’s skin every now and then.
Kashimo hisses as you arrive at the curved, horizontal line carved under his lowest rib. Even with the stinging slowly disappearing lower on his torso, the situation isn’t bearable. This is Kashimo’s most unnatural form: under someone, fighting for his life and against urges he really doesn’t want to be aware of.
“You’re taking your time…”
You scoff sharply, lifting your head again to glare at the Culling Game player. No retort comes this time though, you decide to just let it slide. He’s pathetic enough already.
When you dive back in and the tip of your nose brushes against Kashimo’s rib, he jerks and hisses, accidentally (or purposely) pulling your hair.
“Ngh—” you whine and try smacking his hand away, with no success.
The truth is, it’s not exactly the pain that’s making Kashimo react like that. He’s lived a whole life already, experienced pain your young, bratty self wouldn’t even be able to comprehend. That’s not it.
The closeness and vulnerability are just too unfamiliar and, if he’s honest, a bit scary. He’s not showing that though, at least that’s what he plans on doing.
“Nowadays, people also kiss others if their heart stops,” you note quietly. Your mumbling earns you a disbelieving scoff.
“Yeah, right.”
“It’s true,” you continue and move onto the next section. The injury follows the line of the edge of Kashimo’s thorax, curving upwards to the xiphoid process. “Chest compressions. Two breaths. It’s normal.”
“Shut up.” Kashimo’s nails dig into your scalp. He doesn’t dare look down. He’s sure it would look a certain way from his angle. The mental image is already in his head.
Small sparkles light up in the mess of his hair. The hair ties have long let up, so there is no defined direction or a circuit that would steer the electricity. Just small, random outbursts of energy that correlate with Kashimo’s frustration level. One particularly strong surge takes you by surprise and your tongue slips out just a bit as your breath catches.
It’s not a lick. It doesn’t need to be, Kashimo still attempts to scramble away. “Fuck—”
You’re stronger.
“Hey, easy there, it’s okay, it’s fine,” you soothe as you place more of your weight on Kashimo’s leg to keep him still. The sorcerer looks genuinely distressed now, as if scared by the physical contact.
“We’re almost done.”
Kashimo doesn’t respond. Unknown hormonal combinations swirl in his blood, adrenaline spikes from fear and some kind of thrill. Not the usual type of fight anticipation, that much he can tell. It pools lower than in his gut. Is he panting? He is. Short, fast breaths, wide eyes, parted lips.
“Just a little more, you can take it.” Your encouragement doesn’t help, quite the opposite. This is the worst time for Kashimo to discover any hidden praise kinks. You continue by pinning Kashimo’s hips to the mattress, both of you keeping each other in place with strong, sharp grips. Your words register in the man’s brain, but making his body obey is getting harder and harder. Little goosebumps appear on his skin.
“Think about each body part heating up and becoming heavy, one by one,” you suggest, rubbing the skin just under the prominent V-line. The body part technique is one of the oldest tricks in the book, a calming method you usually use with the students. What’s funny is that it actually works with the old sorcerer; the nails digging into your scalp loosen just a bit. “That’s it, good job.”
The torn-up flesh under your lips continues to melt together, slowly, like thick iron liquefying. You make sure to add reversed cursed energy into his blood vessels, to make up for the blood loss as well.
Kashimo stares up strictly at the ceiling. Your reverse cursed technique is so fucking stupid. He supposes it’s some kind of binding vow that makes you more effective in what you do. The price is… whatever this is.
Just a bit closer, you’d be making out with his abdomen. You’d be doing that thing couples do, where they kiss and lick each other, before eventually the man sinks his erect cock into the woman’s wet heat. Nope. Not going there. The cracked paint on the ceiling is much more interesting. Even so, Kashimo is at his limit.
Any simple man would have had a more noticeable reaction the moment you stripped them of their clothes. Kashimo held on for an impressively long time.
Your soft hair falls into your face, tickling healed areas, the smallest droplets of saliva run down your tongue, and your fingers pull at Kashimo’s hips so deliciously.
He’s hard.
Not even sure if he’s ever been hard before. It’s a heavy feeling between his legs, the restraints of his loose pants plus your restricting thighs around his own strangling the bulge cruelly.
There is no way you haven’t noticed and yet, you’re not saying anything. Your head tilts, more cursed fog escapes between your lips, and the last bits of the long wound start knitting together too. Maybe you pity him that much.
You act as if nothing was wrong, but both of you can feel the tent in Kashimo’s pants. The pressure against the suddenly awakened body part feels oddly good. Satisfying.
You make it worse when you lift your hips a bit and Kashimo’s crotch follows instinctively.
“Fuck, m’sorry…” He just tried grinding against you. Yup, that’s what that was. A clumsy, painful roll of his hips, as his hands hold onto your hair and the sheets for dear life. On the brink of death but still greedy.
“It’s okay,” you reply, not even batting an eye. “It can happen.”
“Not— not with me, it shouldn’t,” Kashimo grits out, more to himself than you. You were just supposed to serve as a quick power-up, in exchange for whatever deal he has to fulfill. He doesn’t remember shit. Something about Sukuna.
You hum, finally finishing your work, and you’d pull back if the hand on the back of your head wasn’t still holding you down tightly.
“Kashimo?”
“Just—” Kashimo’s voice cracks, the fingers clutching your locks shake.
“You… you’ve never had a boner before.” It’s a statement, not a question. Even the most sexually neglected sorcerer can pull themselves together enough that they only pay attention to the healing aspect, usually. But this is Kashimo, strong and arrogant— and undeniably a virgin.
He inhales sharply, still not looking at you. As if on cue, a tiny crackle skips across his shoulder and fizzles out in the sheets.
“Are you going to let me go?”
Slowly, Kashimo forces himself to look down. Big mistake.
You blink up at him so prettily, lips swollen and red, such an understanding expression on your face. Your furrowed brows, pulling together and curving just a tiny bit upwards around your glabella, those really do it for him. Like a sad bunny who’s about to coo at him.
His dick twitches.
“I don’t think so.”
Another roll against your thigh, involuntary at first, but Kashimo doesn’t do anything to stop the movement.
“Heal more,” he commands gruffly.
“There’s nothing to heal.”
“That’s funny. Something hurts.”
The way you glance down at his crotch just arouses him more. He’s still struggling with his predicament, parts of him wanting to resist, but the more feral side has already given in.
You let out a soft breath of surrender. “Where does it hurt?”
Kashimo debates telling you the truth. No, he isn’t that insatiable.
“Chest.”
The mattress dips as you climb up and hover over his chest. Your lips part but no reverse cursed energy comes out. And yet, you lean down. You go all the way this time, mouth closing around the edge of his pectoral muscle. Small kisses at first and as Kashimo starts running his fingers through your hair, more sensibly now, you turn them into sloppy licks and gentle bites.
Kashimo’s leg moves, knee rubbing against you. The panting turns into loud gasps. Loud gasps into an occasional whine as you move up, up, up…
“Good god—”
“Where else?”
“Neck.”
“Mhm…”
Kashimo lets out a string of curses when you move up to the crook of his neck. He’s openly humping you now, soothing and teasing his cock simultaneously. You’re so calm about it, the thought of you maybe being used to needy men under you spiking a bit of his jealousy.
It dissolves quickly when your first little whine becomes audible. You’re getting worked up too…?
“Tell me to stop,” Kashimo breathes, a hint of pleading creeping into his voice. “No, no, don’t tell me that.”
“You want to stop?” you ask, lips leaving his damp skin. Kashimo actually whimpers in protest.
“No, no, please don’t stop, please don’t—” Yes, Kashimo is begging, even though he’s never done this before and he still feels the last remnants of pain, he is begging for more.
You answer by licking a long stripe along his windpipe, up to his jaw, stopping just shy of his lips.
“Where else?”
You both know what comes next.
“Kashimo. Where—”
The air is cut off when Kashimo pulls you down, lips crashing against yours clumsily but desperately. You make a startled sound against his mouth, but it softens almost immediately when his grip in your hair disappears, both hands slipping to your hips now.
You moan when the knee rubbing against you finally finds the right spot under your mound, stimulating your clit with a torturously dull pressure. Your underwear soaks, pussy staying neglected.
“Good little healer, make more of those sounds,” Kashimo slurs into your mouth, salty tongue slipping in. Little sparks light up at the tip, numbing your lips and encouraging your glands’ saliva production. You drool helplessly into his mouth and for some really fucked up reason, Kashimo loves that.
“Heh, messy girl…”
“Ngh,” you choke but continue kissing him. “Feels good.”
“It still hurts.” The next grinding of the man’s hips is strong enough for you to become fully aware of the shape and length of his cock, waiting to be freed. “Here.”
“The… there are many ways to help,” you manage to say, swallowing another moan.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I can—hah— use my hands or… ngh, my mouth… or… tits… or…”
“Mouth, mouth, please.” He’s already reaching down to remove his pants.
“A-Ah...” Kashimo stutters, eyes rolling back slightly when he feels the first gentle kisses on his tip. His hips buck forward, shoving more of his thick length into your waiting mouth. He’s impatient and barely in control of his reactions.
“You’ve never used this thing before?” you ask between little kitten licks. Kashimo shakes his head and dares to look down. The sight is the most erotic thing his pathetic, untouched self has ever seen, a woman, not even the fighter type, pleasuring him between his legs. Asking him about experiences.
“N-no…” It’s hard to speak when all he wants is to groan and thrust into your throat like a savage.
“Poor thing,” you coo and dive back in, licking that one nerve running on the underside of his shaft in a long stripe. The way the dynamics keep shifting makes Kashimo’s head spin.
“Just make the pain stop, that’s your job, fuck, don’t bite!”
Well, he deserves it for that comment.
“Suck, okay? Just… s—ahh—suck.”
His back arches and the pillow puffs out at the sides from how much his head is tipping into the fabric. Too bad you don’t get to see how slutty his waist and throat make him look like that, all exposed and on display. You just hum, taking him fully into your drooling mouth now. It’s the sloppiest blowjob you’ve ever given anyone, thanks to the electricity still paralyzing the inside of your mouth. Your throat is able to relax more than usual and your eyes water easily.
Kashimo is big. Not too thick but so long, with an upwards curve in his shaft that makes sliding it down your throat a hassle.
Meanwhile, Kashimo is staring at you in disbelief and arousal, fascinated by the mess you’ve made of the both of you and how good it feels when your spit pools at the base and runs down his balls, how pretty you are with that debauched look on your face. His cock did that?
“Something… something’s happening.”
“Gonna cum?”
His dick twitches at the question.
“I think so.”
“In my mouth?”
“Please.”
You swirl your tongue around his tip cruelly, teeth catching on the reddened little mushroom cap. “Fuck my face then.”
Immediately, Kashimo’s hands fly to the top of your head, holding it down lightly. He’s not sure if he knows what you mean or if it’s really okay for him to do that, but he’s bursting with sticky sperm at this point and needs a release so, so badly.
His hips fuck up into your mouth, then into your throat, forcing Kashimo’s dick deeep down until your muscles convulse and you gag. And then you have the audacity to just smile dumbly around him, like you’re still the one in control. Like it’s funny to you.
Kashimo can’t resist smacking your cheek lightly, trying to wipe the smile off your face.
It only makes you moan and giggle.
The sound vibrates in your throat, tickling the nerve endings.
“You’ll take it, right? Take it, take it…” he grunts.
Warm, salty liquid spreads in your numb mouth, escaping your lips at the corners. You try swallowing but it’s a bit like when the dentist injects your gums with an anesthetic. Makes it all the sloppier for Kashimo. He’s definitely getting off on how useless your tongue is now.
“Ngh—”
“Yeah, yeah, like that, fuck…”
Cumming is weird, Kashimo realizes. Weird but so damn good, almost as good as winning. Warm waves rip through the body, temporarily shitting his brain off. It’s like only his cock exists. In those moments, he only thinks about cumming and your kisses and, surprisingly, pussy.
It takes him a whole while to come down from the high. He breathes heavily, eyes still on your messed up lips as he softens between the two small pillows of flesh.
“Can I see?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, already tugging your lower lip down and peeking inside. “Good job.”
You stick your limp tongue out, showing off the white cream proudly before wiping your mouth. You were the one taking him and it’s still him who’s completely ruined.
“Does it still hurt?” Your words come out slightly incoherently.
Fabric rustles as Kashimo only shakes his head with a dazed expression. “I’ve been missing out.”
“Nah, everyone has their own pace,” you reply as you push yourself up and start cleaning Kashimo’s oversensitive cock. It has become quite hot and red in your mouth, not to mention all the bodily fluids coating it. You make sure not to tickle him too much with the tissue you’re using.
“Let me just…” you trail off in concentration, dabbing gently at his tip. The electricity crackling over his skin has faded to the occasional lazy spark, harmless now, similar to static after a storm.
Kashimo watches you through half-lidded eyes, chest rising slower this time. The hard lines of his face have softened.
“What do I do in return?”
“Try not to die next time.”
Yeah, he can’t die yet. Not until he’s tried more ways to make that certain pain stop.
(๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑)all rights reserved. no translations, plagiarism, modifications, reposts, or ai feeding. disturbing comments will be deleted. english is not my native language.
︵ ೀ mdni. he says he’s 83. but he possibly can’t be, so you laugh and let him finger you at the bar anyway
yuji itadori has always been terrible at lying.
so when you ask his name—after he’s been staring at you all night in that bar behind your workplace—he tells you it’s yuji. and when you ask how old he is, he tells you he’s 83. you just stare at him for a second. then you break out laughing.
he can’t be that old. obviously. you assume he’s joking, and yuji laughs too, a little nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. because how could he possibly explain that he’s telling the truth? that he is 83, that he just ages very, very slowly, and that despite it all he still looks like he’s barely in his late twenties, at most.
not exactly the kind of small talk you drop on someone you just met. especially not someone you already feel, stupidly and suddenly, like you could spend the rest of your life with. so you treated it like a joke, and he let you.
the night wore on. customers left one by one. last call came and went. the other bartender grumbled something about cleaning the kitchen and told you both to get lost, but neither of you moved. the neon sign outside buzzes softly while rain taps against the windows.
you stay.
he stays.
and eventually the place was empty except for the two of you.
you hop up to sit on the bar, skirt riding up just enough to show the soft skin of your thighs. yuji steps between your knees without thinking—like his body knew where it belonged before his brain caught up.
“what are you doing?” he asks, playing dumb.
your fingers curl into the front of his shirt, tugging him closer. “you’re cute when you’re flustered,” you murmured.
his hands land on your thighs—tentative at first, then bolder when you don’t pull away. you part your legs a little wider. his breath catches when his fingers slip under your skirt, past the waistband of your panties, finding you slick and warm already.
“yuji…” you whisper.
he groans and drops his forehead to your shoulder. “god, you’re so—” he can’t finish the sentence. his fingers slide through your folds, slow and careful, circling your clit until your hips jerk against his palm. he pushes one finger inside you, then two, curling them just right while his thumb keeps moving against your clit. you gasp against his neck, nails biting into his shoulders through his shirt.
he wants to tell you everything.
about the curses crawling through tokyo at night. about the monster he saved you from before. about how he’s been quietly watching over you long before tonight—walking you home from a distance, lingering in the shadows outside your workplace, making sure nothing with teeth or claws ever got close enough to touch you.
about how he’s twenty-three going on forever and terrified you’ll run screaming if you ever saw the real him. about how he’s never wanted anyone like this—like air, like gravity, like something he can’t survive without.
instead he kisses you—deep and desperate—while his fingers fuck you in this shitty little place in shibuya. you clench around him, moan into his mouth, and he thinks maybe he can keep the lie going just a little longer.
“eighty-three, huh?” you pant against his lips after you came down from your high—shuddering, soaking his hand.
he laughs, breathless. “yeah. old man perks.”
you kiss him again, softer this time.
he thinks he might tell you the truth tomorrow.
or maybe the day after.
for now, this—your legs around his waist, his fingers still buried inside you, your smile against his—is more than enough.
Warnings: NSFW!, he’s so daddy, age-gap, Deoksu is kinda misogynistic like in the show
︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶
Things I just know this man likes…
Choking, spitting, hair pulling, you sucking on his fingers, fingering you
Calling him daddy. Maybe he berates you for something, like “Nice going back there. Next time stay in the back where the rest of the bitches are.” and you say “Yes daddy.” quietly, looking up into his eyes and then walking away. His eyes follow you as you walk away, chewing on the nickname and his ego swelling in his chest. He watches your ass as your hips sway from side to side, as did his goons. A young supple soft-looking girl just referred to him as daddy, in front of everyone in earshot. He was going to take it as what it looked like, and decided he would search for your face among the beds that night. He needed to know where your bed was.
Deok su picking you up like you weigh NOTHING, this man is strong
The other players who have observed you two during the games notice a bond forming between you and Deok su. Something of a father-daughter relationship, most people assumed.
Saying sorry to him over and over, sorry daddy I’m sorry daddy sorry
Referring to him by his name, and he’s like “Deok-su?” And questions it with a expecting look at you and you knows he’s mad, and you feel so bad, apologizing and calling him what he should be called—daddy—and sucking his dick later on your knees in the bathroom as apology. “What is my name?” “It’s daddy. It’s daddy, I’m sorry dadd-aaughmmfgh” your eyes water and his dick reaches the back or your throat and a waterfall of watery drool runs down your chin. He’s smirking crookedly down at you with a big hand on your hair.
Deok su fucking you against a wall and squeezing your cheeks together and slapping your face talking right into your ear telling you to be quiet, choking you calling you a bitch
Flashing Deok su when you catch a brief moment alone together. Maybe you’re the first two to finish a game and you are waiting in the main room. And he eyes you from across the floor and smirks like he’s surprised you stayed alive, and you notice no one else is there yet, so you take the opportunity to flash your tits at him. The double take and then the blatant stare was priceless. You let your shirt drop as quickly as you lifted it when the voice of another person sounded nearby.
Having a crush on Deok su immediately once entering the games. When he fought that random girl you got wet and felt guilty about it the entire next day when everyone was sent home. But you also couldn’t stop thinking about his hands on you, the way he was so brutal and how hot he looked while doing it. You were euphoric when you saw him standing there, middle of the floor with his big arms crossed across his chest when you returned the following day. You’d do anything to have him slap you, god. You needed to hide your desperation for him because it could be a sign of weakness.
You kind of wanted to get on his bad side sometimes. You hoped and fantasized that he would pin you against a wall and talk down to you, maybe even choke you if he was pissed enough. Your thighs clenched at the thought.
You just know he knows how to fuck a girl properly, unlike your experience with a lot of guys your age.
Someone that looked old enough to be your dad, holding you close, touching you, attracted a lot of attention. Your soft round face made you look even younger, people passing by assuming a father-daughter relationship, shocked when they saw you later sitting on Deok-su’s lap as he fondled your tits in his hands.
Deok su was proud to claim the sweet young innocent-looking girl and corrupt you and pull your long hair. It was like you were a big prize, a swell to his already huge ego.
Hates your attitude and threatens to teach you a lesson often. “Hate that fucking attitude of yours.”
Holds you down on his cock during a blowjob. Grips your hair in his fist and forces your head up and down on him. You’re choking, crying, slobbering, spitty and gagging as he assaults your throat relentlessly.
“Ahh, harder daddy—” You whimper. “Is this hard enough for you?” He responds.
@sanemistar, @showhay, @honey-i-love-chevy, @falsedivide, @nanaschef, @starspenxcie, @sxpernova, @his-lune (guys im so sorry for tagging y'all so much-)
golden retriever bf!clark kent turns to a doberman when he fucks you shit.
clark’s arms lock around your waist like steel bands and he hauls you straight off the floor, your feet kicking uselessly in the air while your hands scramble for the edge of the counter.
the kitchen tiles are cold under nothing but his bare feet and the slap of your bodies, but you don’t feel any of it because he’s already slamming back into you, thick cock stretching you open so wide your mouth drops on a shaky cry.
“did you seriously think you could get away?” his voice is low and rough against your ear, that farm-boy drawl gone dark and filthy.
sweat rolls down the carved lines of his chest and back, muscles flexing huge under your palms as he lifts and drops you onto every inch like you’re nothing but a toy for his cock. he’s taller, stronger, faster than anyone you’ve ever had, and he knows it. every thrust punches the air out of your lungs, the wet smack of his hips meeting your ass loud and obscene in the quiet room.
your legs dangle, toes barely brushing the floor before he yanks you higher and drives in again, cock so deep you swear you feel him in your stomach.
“sweet girls like you were made to be bred, y’know that?” he growls, teeth scraping your shoulder as he fucks into you a whole lot deeper, faster, the wet sound of your pussy taking him echoing off the walls. you’re dripping down his thighs already, slick running messy between you while he rearranges everything inside you with every brutal stroke.
he shifts his grip, one big hand sliding up to squeeze your tit, thumb flicking your nipple until it’s aching, the other arm banded under your ass so he can bounce you on his cock like he’s got all the time in the world. your back arches, head falling against his shoulder, and he just laughs again, low and smug, hips snapping up so sharp your vision whites out for a second.
“that’s it, baby… feel how deep i am? no running now. this cunt’s mine.”
you try to answer but it comes out a broken moan, your walls fluttering tight around the heavy length splitting you open. clark groans at the squeeze, pace turning mean, pounding up into you so hard the counter creaks under your gripping fingers.
sweat slicks your skin where you’re pressed together, his chest hot and solid against your back, cock dragging perfect over that spot inside you again and again until your thighs shake and your voice cracks on his name.
he doesn’t slow down. just keeps lifting you, dropping you, fucking you full with every thick inch while his breath fans hot against your neck. “gonna fill you up,” he promises, voice wrecked and hungry, “gonna breed this pretty pussy till it’s dripping my cum for days. you’re not going anywhere till i’m done with you.” his hand slips between your legs, fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight circles that make your whole body jerk in his hold.
the pressure builds fast, overwhelming, and when you come it’s with a sob, pussy clamping down around him so hard he curses under his breath. clark fucks you through it, relentless, hips stuttering only when his own orgasm hits. he buries himself to the hilt and stays there, pulsing hot and deep while thick ropes of cum flood you, so much it leaks out around his cock and runs down your thighs. he keeps you suspended, rocking slow and lazy now, milking every last drop into you like he really means to breed you full.
only when you’re limp and panting does he finally lower you, but he doesn’t let go, just keeps you pinned against the counter with his cock still buried inside, lips brushing your ear as he murmurs, “told you you couldn’t get away.”
