satoru fu.cking you on headlock (18+) mdni!
satoru’s got you face-down on the mattress before you can even catch your breath.
one arm snakes around your throat from behind—not choking, just firm enough that every swallow presses your adam’s apple against the crook of his elbow. his bicep flexes under your chin, solid and warm, trapping you in the perfect headlock while his chest molds to your back. you feel every ridge of muscle, the steady thud of his heart against your spine.
“stay still,” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear. voice low, lazy, like he’s commenting on the weather instead of pinning you helpless.
his free hand grips your hip, yanks you back until your ass is flush against him. cock already hard, thick, sliding between your cheeks once, twice, smearing precum before he notches at your entrance. no warning. he pushes in slow—agonizingly slow—so you feel the stretch burn through every inch. your walls flutter around him, trying to adjust, but he doesn’t give you time. hips snap forward and he bottoms out in one smooth thrust.
you gasp. the sound gets caught in his arm, muffled against the inside of your elbow. he tightens just a fraction—enough to make your head swim pleasantly, blood rushing in your ears.
“there you go,” he breathes. “just like that.”
then he starts fucking you.
long, deep strokes that make the headboard knock against the wall. every time he pulls back his arm flexes, keeping your neck arched, throat exposed. you can’t hide the little whimpers that spill out—raw, needy. he drinks them in, lips pressed to your shoulder, teeth grazing skin.
his cock drags against that spot inside you on every thrust, relentless. the angle’s brutal with how he’s got you folded—ass up, chest down, head locked in place. you feel so full it aches in the best way, pressure building low in your belly until your thighs shake.
he shifts his grip. forearm slides higher, pressing under your jaw so your head tips back further. now he can see your face—flushed, lips parted, eyes glassy. he groans at the sight, hips stuttering once before picking up speed.
“look at you,” he rasps. “taking it so well. my pretty little thing.”
the praise hits harder than the thrusts. your cunt clenches hard around him and he curses under his breath, burying his face in your neck. teeth sink into the soft skin there—not breaking, just marking—as he grinds deep, circling his hips so the base of his cock grinds against your clit.
you’re close. so close the edges of your vision blur. every breath is shallow, controlled by the flex of his arm. the headlock keeps you right there—dangling on the edge, unable to pull away, unable to do anything but take it.
“come on,” he coaxes, voice wrecked. “let me feel it. squeeze around me like you mean it.”
one more deep thrust, grinding right against that spot, and you shatter.
your whole body locks up—walls clamping down so hard he hisses through his teeth. orgasm rolls through you in heavy waves, thighs trembling, toes curling, muffled cries vibrating against his forearm. he doesn’t stop. keeps fucking you through it, drawing it out until you’re oversensitive and whining.
he follows right after. hips slamming once, twice—then he’s spilling inside you, hot and thick, cock pulsing with every spurt. his arm tightens for a second—reflex—cutting your air just enough to make stars burst behind your eyes before he loosens again.
he stays buried, panting against your neck. arm still looped around your throat, but softer now. thumb strokes lazy circles over your pulse point while he catches his breath.
“good girl,” he murmurs, kissing the shell of your ear. “so fucking good.”
he doesn’t pull out yet. just rocks gently, letting you feel him soften inside while his arm keeps you cradled against him—like he’s not ready to let go.
