' being loved by satoru gojo ' giggling squealing kicking my feet warnings : idfk fluff , gojo being head over heels for you
taking a break after a long day of training and instructing a bunch of stubborn teenagers, you and shoko were sitting in the staff room---discussing things that gojo has done for you that seemed totally normal.
to you.
"satoru left a mission halfway through one time because i said i missed him." you shrug.
shoko nearly choked on her coffee, "he did what?"
you didn't understand why shoko was reacting. i mean, that was totally normal. ...right?
she places her mug down, eyeing you suspiciously. "how often does he carry your bags?"
"all the time."
"open doors?"
"yeah?"
"buys you things?"
"well, obviously."
every one of your answers to her questions, shoko grew more and more confused. she knew that you two were dating, but she always assumed he didn't really get attached to people. well, not like that at least.
shoko clears her throat, "you know he doesn't do any of that for the rest of us, right?" she lowers her voice. "last week i asked him to pass me a pen and he threw it at my head."
"what?" you gasp---and that's when the flashbacks hit you.
gojo automatically ties your shoelaces even though he knows you're more than capable.
gojo carries you when you're tired.
gojo remembering your coffee order.
gojo giving you his jacket before you can even say that you're cold.
gojo dropping everything when you call.
each memory gets progressively more embarrassing because of your obliviousness. so, after the break with shoko, you went looking for gojo for confirmation.
finding him on the field, watching and instructing yuji and megumi while they train together, you approach him.
"do you really do all those things because you love me?"
gojo blinks, "well hello to you too," he chuckles deeply, turning to face you. "explain, sweetheart."
you huff, "like.. everything! you tie my shoelaces, you buy me things without asking, you carry me when i'm tired---"
"who else would i do it for?"
"...shoko says normal boyfriends don't carry spare hair ties." your lips purse together, turning your face away.
gojo tilts his head to the side, placing his index finger under your chin to guide your face back to his. "normal boyfriends are losers."
okay eat this up before i move onto my rin itoshi mini series
remember please do not copy, steal, rewrite, or put my works into ai. i work hard on all my fics.
áĄŕ§ Fix your route? Nah, Fuck you right. â N. Kento.
áĄŕ§ synopsis: in which nanami is a longtime divorced man but got a very active sex life. and in which a new, bimbo⌠and a very much younger neighbor moves in next to his apartment. worst part is, heâs not able to control himself around you. especially when youâre at his door, asking him to fix your wifi late at this hour.
áĄŕ§ pairing: older!nanami kento x kinda bimbo fem!reader
áĄŕ§ c. warnings: age gap, heavy sexuĂĄl tension, eyefu cking, solo m. mast urbation, nanami is in his 40s and reader is early 20s, belly/tummy bulge, fing ering, did i say heavy se xual tension?, pus sy eating, overstim ulation, squi rting, weak plot/heavy po rn â if thereâs more to tag lmk. w.c: 7.8k+
nanami kento has always kept his life neat and quiet, the kind of man who folds his shirts the same way every morning and times his coffee exactly seven minutes after the water boils. forty years old, divorced once a long time ago, and now he lives alone in the corner apartment on the fourth floor where the hallway light flickers just enough to remind him he should probably call maintenance but never does.
his sex life is the same as everything else he controls, sparse and deliberate. a few times a year he lets himself download one of those bland apps, meets a woman his age in a hotel bar, fucks her slow and polite in the dark so neither of them has to look too closely at the other.
most nights though it is just his own hand in the shower, quick and efficient, eyes closed while he thinks about nothing at all. he likes it that way. clean. no mess. no complications. until you moved in next door three months ago and ruined every single one of those careful rules without even trying.
you showed up on a rainy tuesday with too many cardboard boxes and a laugh that carried through the thin walls like it belonged there.
early twenties, fresh out of whatever college or job that spat you into this building, always in oversized shirts and tiny sleep shorts that rode up the back of your thighs when you bent over to pick up your mail. nanami noticed you the first time he passed you in the hallway, the way you smiled at him like he was just another neighbor instead of a man who suddenly felt every one of those twenty years between you. he told himself it was nothing. just new noise in a building that had been quiet for years. but then the noise became something else.
the soft thump of your music when you cooked dinner, the way your balcony light stayed on late while you scrolled on your phone, the faint vanilla scent that drifted under his door every time you took out the trash. he started catching himself pausing at the peephole when he heard your keys, hating the way his cock twitched at the mere sound of your footsteps. hating it more when he realized he was hard again in the shower that same night, fist wrapped tight around himself while he pictured those sleep shorts pooled around your ankles.
he tried to ignore it at first. threw himself into longer office hours, came home later, kept the volume on his television higher so he would not hear you humming in the shower through the shared wall. it did not work.
every little thing you did chipped at him. the way you waved from your balcony in the mornings wearing nothing but a thin tank top and no bra, nipples stiff from the cool air. the way you asked him once, all sweet and shy, if he knew how to fix a leaking faucet and stood too close while he worked, soft focused grunts leaving is chest and his rolled-up sleeve. after that night he jerked off twice before he could even get his jeans off, coming so hard he had to brace one hand on the shower tile just to stay upright.
he hated how easily you affected him. hated that a girl barely old enough to rent her own apartment could make a man like him, a man who prided himself on control, feel like some desperate teenager again. his sex life used to be something he managed. now it was just quiet frustration and the occasional guilty stroke while he thought about how small you would look under him, how tight you would feel, how pretty you would sound moaning his name.
then came the router. you knocked on his door at nine-thirty one random night, voice small and embarrassed over the phone first, then in person when he opened up still dressed in his white button-up and black jeans.
nanami stands at your doorway with one hand already in his pocket, the other holding the small toolbox he keeps for these exact random neighbor emergencies all ready, and he tells himself for the tenth time that this is nothing. just a quick fix.
your voice is soft and a little embarrassed over heâs not surprised. âsorry to bother you, nanami-san, but my wifi router just died and i have no idea what iâm doing with these things.â he had sighed, told you he would be right over, and now here he is, hating every single second because the moment you open the door he feels it again. that pull. that stupid, inconvenient heat low in his gut that has been creeping up on him since the day you moved in.
you are wearing your famous oversized t-shirt that slips off one shoulder and tiny sleep shorts that ride up when you shift your weight, bare feet on the hardwood, skin glazed with a thin layer of sweat like you had been lounging on the couch all evening.
you smile at him, grateful and a little shy, and nanamiâs jaw tightens. he is forty, a divorced but settled, a man who likes order and quiet and routines that do not include getting half-hard at the sight of his much younger neighborâs collarbones. yet here he is, eyes dragging down the line of your neck before he forces them back up.
âthank you so much for coming,â you say, stepping aside to let him in. your voice is warm, a little breathy from the relief of not having to deal with it alone. the apartment smells faintly of vanilla and whatever takeout you had for dinner.
nanami nods once, polite as always, and follows you toward the corner where the router sits on a low shelf. he can feel the weight of his own body, the clean but lived-in scent of his white button-up clinging slightly to his skin after a long day, black jeans sitting snug on his hips. he is musty in that grown-man way, soap and faint cologne mixed with the faint trace of office air and the walk over, nothing overpowering but undeniably male. he knows it. he hopes you do not notice how it fills the small space between you.
you hover close while he crouches down to look at the router, your thigh brushing his shoulder as you point at the blinking lights. âit just stopped working out of nowhere. i tried restarting it butâŚâ your words trail off when he glances up.
his eyes catch on the way your t-shirt hangs loose, the soft swell of your tits visible at the neckline, the smooth skin of your legs right there at eye level. he should look away yet nanami does not. instead his gaze lingers, slow and heavy, tracing the curve of your hip, the way the hem of those shorts digs into the flesh of your thigh. he feels his cock twitch in his jeans, thickening against the zipper before he can stop it.
fuck.
he shifts his weight, trying to hide the growing bulge, but the movement only makes the fabric pull tighter.
âlet me see,â he mutters, voice lower than he intends, rough around the edges. his fingers work the cables, checking connections, but his mind is not on the router. it is on you. on how you smell like warm skin and faint lotion, on how you keep biting your lip while you watch him, on how easily he could reach out and slide his palm up the back of your thigh.
he has been trying to ignore it for weeks. it takes him back to the way you wave at him from your balcony in the mornings, the sound of your laugh carrying through the thin walls when you are on the phone with friends, the soft thump of your music when you cook.
every little thing has been chipping away at his carefully built restraint. he is older. he should know better. but his body does not care about should.
he stands up slowly, taller than you by a good amount, and when he does his chest brushes your shoulder. you do not step back and the air between you feels thick, charged, and nanamiâs eyes drop again, this time to your mouth, then lower to where your nipples have tightened under the thin shirt.
he swallows hard. his cock is fully hard now, pressing insistently against the front of his black jeans, the outline obvious if you were to look down. he turns slightly, pretending to fiddle with the router settings on his phone, but the movement only highlights the bulge.
he can feel the heat of it, the way it throbs when you lean in closer to see what he is doing, your breath ghosting over his forearm.
âis it the cable?â you ask, voice quieter now, like you have noticed the shift too. your eyes flick to his face, then down, then back up, and nanami sees the faint flush creeping up your neck. good. at least he is not suffering alone. he clears his throat, forcing his attention back to the device, but his free hand flexes at his side, knuckles whitening. he wants to touch you. wants to back you against the wall and slide those tiny shorts down your legs, wants to feel how wet you already are because he can smell it, that sweet faint arousal mixing with your usual scent.
his mind supplies the image without permission: you bent over the couch, his cock buried deep while he grips your hips and fucks the whimpers out of you. he exhales sharply through his nose.
âtry it now,â he says, stepping back just enough to give you space, but not enough to hide anything. the router lights flicker green. you pull out your phone to test the connection and let out a small happy sound that goes straight to his dick.
âit works! oh my god, thank you, nanami-san.â you turn to him fully, eyes bright, and for a second he lets himself look. really look. at the way your chest rises with each breath, at the bare stretch of thigh, at how your lips part when you realize he is staring.
he does not smile. his expression stays bland, almost stern, but his eyes are dark and hungry, eye-fucking you so openly now that there is no pretending. his cock strains harder against the denim, a small wet spot forming where he is leaking, and he makes no move to hide it.
he is half heartedly relieved you do not notice. your gaze still stuck on your phone screen, lashes fluttering, and when you look back up, you read there is something new in his expression, something needy and waiting to be unleashed.
nanamiâs voice comes out rougher than he means. âyou should get a better router. this one is outdated.â it is the most neutral thing he can think of, but it does not matter.
the tension is already there, thick and undeniable, wrapping around both of you in the half-unpacked living room. he can feel his pulse in his cock, the heavy ache of it, the way his balls feel tight just from standing this close to you. he wants to hate how easily you affect him.
he does hate it. but he cannot stop the slow drag of his eyes over your body one more time, imagining exactly how you would look spread open on his bed, taking every inch while he tells you how long he has been fighting this.
you shift on your feet, thighs pressing together, and nanami catches the tiny movement. his jaw clenches. he should leave. he should say goodnight and go back to his quiet apartment and jerk off to the memory like he has done more nights than he cares to admit.
your heartbeat picks up its rate, your finger tips sweaty. you feel the air thickening already, noticing the print of your neighbors dick without even looking down.
âso maybe you could stay and i could make you some teââ your proposal is short lived.
âiâve fixed what youâve called me to help for. goodnight.â his stern voice catches you off guard, watching him collect and grab the toolbox on the floor that was forgotten seconds ago. you try to say something but stay frozen when he pushes past you, his neck veins slightly showing on his skin.
nanami strides out fast. because right now, with his cock hard and obvious and his control fraying at the edges, he is not sure he has the strength to stay in the same room with you.
and so he leaves you standing in the middle of your apartment with your wifi fixed and a pile of notifications âding-ingâ every seconds.
+
a week drags by in thick, unspoken tension that sits heavy between the thin apartment walls like smoke that refuses to clear.
nanami wakes each morning with the same stern resolution burning behind his eyes: keep the distance, lock it down, pretend the night you called him over for the router never happened. he leaves for the office before the sun fully rises, comes home long after the hallway lights have dimmed, and when he passes your door he keeps his gaze fixed on the scuffed floorboards like they hold the answers to every moral question he has been asking himself since he first felt that inconvenient throb in his jeans. but the memory refuses to fade.
it lingers in the shower when hot water runs down his chest and his hand wraps around his cock without permission, stroking slow and frustrated while your freshly known name slips out between gritted teeth like a confession he wishes he could swallow back.
it follows him into bed at night, where he lies stiff on his back and remembers the exact shade of flush that crept up your neck when his eyes dragged too long over your body.
he hates it. hates how easily a girl barely out of her early twenties can unravel the careful, quiet life he has built for himself. he is older, disciplined, a man who values order and restraint above almost everything, yet here he is, reduced to stolen glances through the balcony railing and late-night strokes that leave him emptier than before.
you do not make any of it easier. you still wave at him from across the narrow gap between your balconies in the mornings, soft smile curving your lips like you know exactly what you are doing to him. you leave polite little notes taped to his door about shared packages or the new recycling bins downstairs, your handwriting neat and looping in a way that makes his fingers tighten around the paper every time.
each accidental brush of your fingers when you hand him mail in the hallway sends a spark straight down his spine, and every polite âgood morning, nanami-sanâ you offer chips away at the walls he keeps trying to reinforce. he catches the sound of your laugh through the thin wall sometimes when you are on the phone with people⌠your age, light and warm, and his cock thickens in his slacks before he can stop it.
he tells himself it is nothing. just proximity. just the natural reaction of a man who has been alone too long. but deep down he knows the truth: you have gotten under his skin, and the more he tries to push it away the harder it pulls.
tonight the last thread of his restraint finally frays and snaps.
the familiar knock comes at exactly the time he wishes it to, soft but insistent, cutting through the quiet of his evening like a hook sinking into flesh.
nanami opens the door still dressed from the office, white button-up with the sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows, black jeans sitting low on his hips, the faint musty-clean scent of him drifting out into the hallway, clean and faint cologne and the long day clinging to his skin.
you stand there in another oversized t-shirt that slips off one shoulder and those same tiny sleep shorts that have been haunting him, hair not perfect like you had been caught up in something⌠private, cheeks already carrying that telltale pink flush. itâs as if last week was repeating itself.
âthe router again,â you say, voice small and breathy, but your eyes are not on any imaginary problem. they trace the open collar of his shirt, the broad line of his shoulders, the way his chest fills the doorway. âit keeps dropping signal. i tried everything you showed me last time but⌠i think i need your help again.â
he should tell you no. should suggest you call the building manager in the morning this time and close the door before the air between you thickens any further. instead he exhales slowly through his nose, jaw tight, and reaches for the small toolbox he keeps by the door without saying a word.
he follows you next door, the faint click of the lock behind him sounding louder than it should. the moment you are both inside the living room the atmosphere shifts, warmer and heavier, like the space itself is holding its breath. you lead him to the same corner shelf where the router sits, but this time you do not hover at a polite distance.
you stand close enough that your bare arm brushes his rough skin when he crouches down to look. the lights on the router are steady green. he knows it is working fine the second he glances at it. and most definitely you know it.
the excuse is paper-thin and neither of you bothers to pretend otherwise.
nanami rises slowly, turning to face you fully, his tall frame casting a shadow over you in the soft lamplight. his eyes do the same slow, solemn drag they did the week before, only heavier now, sharpened by seven long days of fighting the memory of your body.
he watches the way your nipples have already tightened under the thin fabric of your shirt, the subtle press of your thighs together like the ache between them is already building. his cock responds immediately, swelling thick and heavy inside his black jeans, the thick ridge becoming obvious as it presses against the denim. heâs sure a faint damp spot is beginning to form, but he does not try to hide it this time. he lets you see. lets the weight of his stare settle on you like a touch.
âthe router is working fine,â he says, voice low and rough, carrying that same stern tone he always uses, like he is delivering a verdict in court rather than standing in your living room with a hard-on he cannot will away. âyou know that as well as i do. why did you really call me over here?â
you swallow visibly, eyes flicking down to the clear outline of his cock straining against his jeans before rising back to his face.
your chest rises and falls with a heavier breath, lips parting slightly, but instead of answering you take one slow step back. then another. your hands move to the waistband of your sleep shorts, fingers hooking under the fabric, and you bend forward just enough to slide them down your legs in one smooth motion.
the shorts pool at your ankles and you step out of them, leaving you in nothing but a pair of grey lace panties with delicate pink ribbons threaded along the edges. the soft fabric clings to the curve of your pussy, the faint outline of your folds visible through the thin material, and nanamiâs right leg twitches involuntarily, his cock jerking hard inside his jeans at the sight.
his brows draw together in a quick pretend of frown, serious expression tightening. âwhat are you doing?â he asks, voice dropping even lower, a clear warning threaded through the words. but you do not stop. your fingers catch the hem of your oversized t-shirt next, lifting it slowly, inch by inch, revealing the soft skin of your stomach, the delicate dip of your waist, the underside of your breasts.
you pull the shirt up and over your head, letting it drop to the floor beside the shorts, and now you stand there in only the grey lace panties, tits bare, nipples stiff in the cool air of the room. nanamiâs breath catches, his hands flexing hard at his sides, the long fingers curling into fists as he fights the urge to reach for you.
he says your name then, low and rough, the syllables heavy with warning. âdonât.â but you only smile, small and soft and knowing, and continue. your thumbs hook into the waistband of the panties, sliding them down your hips with agonizing slowness, the lace catching briefly on the swell of your ass before you let them fall.
you step out of them completely, now fully naked in front of him, skin flushed warm under his heavy gaze. you walk toward him, bare feet quiet on the floor, hips swaying just enough to make your tits move softly with each step. when you are close enough that he can feel the heat radiating from your body, when his mouth opens to speak again, you lift one finger and press it gently to his lips, shushing him.
nanami lets out a small, broken sound, half whimper, half groan, the noise slipping out before he can stop it. his cock throbs visibly in his jeans, another bead of pre-cum soaking into the fabric as the tension coils tighter in the narrow space between your bodies.
he exhales shakily against your finger, eyes dark and conflicted, thick needy lines deepening on his face. âyouâre a very young girlâŚâ he trails off, voice rough and strained, the words carrying the weight of every reason he has been telling himself to stay away.
you pull your finger back just enough to speak, voice soft but steady. âiâm legal.â
âbarely,â he counters immediately, the word clipped, his gaze dropping despite himself to the bare curve of your breasts, it taught him to squeeze on them and make you feel good, the soft swell of your hips, the smooth skin between your thighs where he can already see the faint shine of arousal. âyouâre barely twenty-something. iâm more than twice your age. this⌠this is not appropriate.â
you tilt your head slightly, still standing naked and unashamed in front of him, the tension so thick it feels like the air itself has weight. âand yet youâre standing here with your cock so hard i can see it twitching through your jeans,â you murmur, eyes flicking down pointedly to the obvious bulge. âyouâve been avoiding me all week, nanami-san, but you still came over the second i knocked. tell me again how inappropriate this is.â
caught him red handed. fuck you.
he lets out another low groan, the sound vibrating in his chest, his hand coming up like he might push you away but instead hovering just above your waist, fingers trembling with restraint. âyou have no idea what youâre asking for,â he says, voice quieter now, almost pained. âiâm not some young man who can just⌠give in without consequences. you deserve better than an older neighbor who canât keep his eyes off you.â
the banter stretches, slow and heavy, every word laced with the electric pull between you. you step even closer, your bare breasts brushing the front of his white shirt, nipples dragging against the fabric, and nanamiâs breath hitches sharply. âthen why does it feel like youâve been thinking about this as much as i have?â you ask, voice barely above a whisper. âwhy do you look at me like you want to bend me over every time we pass in the hall?â
his jaw clenches, the muscle ticking visibly, but his eyes stay locked on yours even as his cock continues to throb between you.
âbecause i do,â he admits finally, the words dragged out like they cost him something. âi want to. more than i should. but youâre young. barely out of college. and iâm⌠this.â he gestures vaguely at himself, the musty yet cleaned scent of his body stronger now with the heat rising off his skin, the faint sweat dampening the collar of his shirt. âa tired man who should know better.â
you smile again, softer this time, and reach up to trace one finger along the line of his jaw. âthen stop fighting it for one night,â you whisper. âjust let yourself have me. i want you, nanami. iâve wanted you since the first time you fixed my router and looked at me like you were starving.â
the silence stretches again, thick and humming with tension, his breath coming heavier now, chest rising and falling against yours. his hand finally settles on your waist, large palm warm and slightly rough against your bare skin, thumb stroking once, slow and deliberate.
he does not pull you closer yet, but he does not push you away either. the battle is still there in his eyes, solemn and conflicted, but the hunger is winning, inch by aching inch, as the minutes tick by in the quiet room and his cock continues to strain painfully against his jeans, waiting for the moment his restraint finally gives out completely.
nanamiâs hand tightens on your waist, fingers spanning wide enough to nearly wrap around the curve of it, and the last of his resistance crumbles like dry paper under the heat of your bare skin against his palm.
he exhales once, long and shaky, eyes still calculated but dark now with the kind of hunger he has been trying to bury for weeks, and then he is moving, guiding you backward until the backs of your knees hit the couch and you sink down onto the cushions. he follows without a word, dropping to his knees between your spread thighs like a man who has finally stopped pretending he can walk away.
his broad shoulders push your legs wider, the white button-up stretching tight across his chest as he leans in, breath hot against the inside of your thigh. he looks up at you one last time, jaw set, like he is giving you one final chance to tell him no, but you only slide your fingers into his neatly combed hair and tug him closer. that is all it takes.
his mouth finds your pussy like he has been starving for it, lips parting to drag a slow, broad stripe up your folds, tongue flat and heavy as he tastes you properly for the first time. the groan that vibrates out of his chest is low and rough, almost pained, because you are already soaked, slick coating his tongue in a way that makes his cock jerk hard inside his jeans.
he licks again, slower this time, savoring the way your thighs tremble on either side of his head, then seals his mouth around your clit and sucks gently, tongue flicking in tight little circles that have your back arching off the couch. one of his huge hands slides up your stomach, palm pressing flat just below your navel, and he pushes down with just enough pressure to make your pussy clench around nothing.
the size of his hand there is obscene, fingers spread wide so his pinky rests near the base of your ribs and his thumb brushes the top of your mound, the sheer scale of him against your smaller frame making everything feel tighter, hotter, more overwhelming.
nanami eats you out like he has all night and nothing else matters, tongue sliding deep between your folds before circling back up to your clit, sucking and licking in a rhythm that builds slow and relentless. his free hand grips your thigh, spreading you even wider, thumb digging into the soft flesh while he buries his face deeper, nose pressing against your mound as he drinks down every drop of you. the wet sounds fill the quiet room, wet and loud, his groans mixing with the slick slide of his tongue and the shaky breaths you keep letting out.
he keeps that steady pressure on your lower belly the whole time, palm rubbing slow circles that make your insides twist and flutter, the tummy bullying so deliberate it feels like he is trying to feel exactly where his mouth is working from the inside. your hips twitch, trying to ride his face, but he holds you down with that big hand, keeping you exactly where he wants you while he pushes you closer and closer to the edge.
when you come it hits hard and sudden, pussy pulsing against his tongue as your thighs clamp around his head and a broken moan spills out of you. nanami does not stop. he keeps licking you through it, slower now but just as thorough, tongue dragging over your oversensitive clit until your whole body jerks and you try to squirm away from the intensity.
he only presses his palm firmer against your stomach, holding you in place, the slight overstimulation making your eyes water and your voice crack on his name. ânanamiâŚpleaâ fuck, itâs too much,â you whimper, but he just hums against you, the vibration sending another sharp spark through your core, and slides two thick fingers into your still-clenching pussy without warning. they stretch you wide, the size of them so much bigger than your own that you feel every knuckle, every ridge, as he curls them deep and starts pumping slow and steady.
he lifts his head just enough to watch his fingers disappear inside you, eyes dark and tempting, lips shiny with your slick. âlook at how well you take them,â he murmurs, voice gravel-rough, the praise low and almost reverent as he presses down on your belly again with his other hand, feeling the way his fingers create a very faint bulge against your walls from the outside.
the pressure makes everything tighter, more intense, and you clench hard around him, another wave of overstimulation crashing through you while he keeps fingering you through the aftershocks. his thumb finds your clit, rubbing slow circles that have you shaking, the combination of his thick fingers stretching you open and the firm press on your tummy turning every breath into a broken little sob.
he does not rush. he just keeps working you, long fingers dragging along that perfect spot inside while his palm rubs steady circles on your stomach, bullying that soft lower belly until you are dripping down his wrist and whimpering his name like it will make it better than it already is.
only when your thighs are trembling uncontrollably and your pussy is fluttering helplessly around his fingers does he finally ease up, sliding them out slow and careful, bringing them to his mouth to lick clean with a low groan that makes your stomach flip.
he stays on his knees between your legs for a long moment, forehead resting against your thigh, breathing hard while his cock strains painfully against his jeans, the front of the fabric dark with pre-cum. when he finally looks up at you his eyes are still determined, still carrying that quiet conflict, but the hunger has won completely now, and the way he stares at your flushed, marked body makes it clear he is nowhere near done with you tonight.
nanami stays on his knees between your spread thighs for another long, heavy breath, forehead pressed to the soft skin just above your knee while his chest rises and falls like he is trying to steady something inside himself that already broke minutes ago. his fingers are still shiny with you, the faint scent of his skin mixed with the sharp sweetness of your pussy hanging thick in the air.
when he finally moves it is slow and deliberate, like every motion costs him something. he rises to his full height, towering over you on the couch, white button-up wrinkled and damp at the collar from the heat rolling off both of you. his hands, large and steady, slide under your thighs and around your back in one smooth motion, scooping you up off the cushions like you weigh nothing at all.
your legs wrap around his slim waist on instinct, heels digging into the firm muscle of his lower back, and the sudden shift leaves you gasping against his shoulder because he lifts you so easily, strong arms locking you against his chest while your bare pussy hovers right above the heavy bulge still trapped in his jeans.
he does not give you time to look down. one arm stays banded tight under your ass, holding your weight like it is effortless, while his free hand works between your bodies to unbuckle his belt with a quiet metallic clink. the zipper follows, the sound loud in the quiet room, and he shoves both jeans and briefs down just enough to free himself.
you feel the thick, heavy length spring up against your inner thigh, hot and velvet-smooth, the blunt mushroom head already slick and leaking. before you can even tilt your head to catch a glimpse he shifts you higher in his arms, pressing your back against the nearest wall for leverage, and uses that same free hand to guide the fat head of his cock right to your dripping entrance.
the broad tip nudges through your folds, rubbing slow and deliberate, coating himself in your slick while he watches your face with those solemn dark eyes, brows knitted tight like he is still fighting the last scraps of restraint.
âbreathe,â he mutters, voice low and rough, the single word almost gentle even as his hips tilt forward. he helps you sink down, one thick inch at a time, the stretch burning so good it makes your jaw go slack and your eyes flutter half-shut.
he is big, thicker than anything you have taken, the veined shaft dragging along your walls as he lowers you steadily until your ass meets his hips and he is buried to the hilt. a quiet groan tears from his throat when he bottoms out, the sound vibrating through his chest into yours, and for a long second he just holds you there, letting you feel every inch of him pulsing deep inside your smaller body.
youâre pressed and folded in an awkward position, and it only makes the size difference feel more obscene, your soft curves dwarfed by his tall, solid frame.
nanami does not wait long. his hands grip your ass harder, fingers digging into the soft flesh, and he starts to move, lifting you up and dropping you back down onto his cock with controlled, powerful strokes that hammer into you deep enough to punch the air from your lungs. each thrust makes your whole body jolt in his arms, tits bouncing under nothing. bare and free for him to watch, back sliding against the wall while he fucks up into you like he has been imagining it for weeks.
his height towers over you completely, shoulders broad enough to block out the room, white shirt straining across his chest with every roll of his hips.
the mushroom head of his cock drags perfectly along that spot inside you on every downstroke, the sheer size of him making your belly bulge slightly every time he bottoms out, a faint outline visible under your skin if you looked down, but he keeps your face buried against his neck so you cannot.
he keeps that steady, punishing rhythm, hips snapping up hard while his arms hold you suspended like you are weightless, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing louder with every thrust. sweat beads along his hairline, dampening the collar of his shirt, and his breath comes in hot, measured pants against your ear.
âtoo big for you?â he asks, voice strained but still carrying that solemn edge, even as he grinds deep and holds you there for a heartbeat, letting you feel how completely he fills you.
your only answer is a broken moan and loled nod, nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt, legs tightening around his waist as another wave of overstimulation starts building fast. he does not slow down. he just keeps lifting and dropping you onto every thick inch, eyebrows still knitted in concentration, eyes flicking between your slack mouth and the way your body takes him so greedily.
his shirt keeps getting in the way, bunching up between both of you, so he shifts his grip, one hand sliding up to yank the fabric higher until it is completely off of him, exposing his sweaty chest completely to the cool air and your half-focused stare.
now there is nothing between you but sweat-slick skin and the relentless drag of his cock stretching you open. he leans in, mouth finding your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin while he hammers into you harder, the angle shifting so the head of his cock bullies that perfect spot with every upward thrust. your smaller frame jolts in his arms with each powerful stroke, pussy clenching tight around the thick length splitting you apart, and nanami groans low and deep, the sound rumbling through his chest as he feels you start to flutter around him again.
he keeps you pinned against the wall like that, towering over you, strong arms never tiring as he fucks you deep and steady, the size difference so stark it makes your head spin. every time he bottoms out his hips grind against your clit, the pressure on your lower belly from the inside making everything feel tighter, fuller, more overwhelming.
you are already close again, thighs shaking around his waist, voice cracking on his name, and nanami just holds you there, determined eyes locked on your face while he drives you closer to the edge with every heavy thrust, determined to feel you come around his cock before he lets himself follow.
nanamiâs rhythm starts to falter just a little, hips snapping up with shorter, more desperate strokes while his breath comes hot and ragged against the side of your neck. he can feel it building fast, that tight coil low in his gut, his heavy balls drawing up tight and aching as your pussy flutters and squeezes around every thick inch of him.
but he refuses to let go first. he is older, more controlled, and right now that control means making sure you fall apart completely before he does.
with a low grunt he shifts his grip, one big hand sliding under your ass to tilt your hips forward while the other presses flat against your lower back, forcing your spine into a deep arch that pushes your pelvis out and opens you up even more obscenely. the new angle is nasty, almost cruel, your body folded and suspended in his arms so your clit grinds hard against the base of his cock on every upward thrust and the fat head of him drags directly into that spongy spot inside you at a brutal upward curve.
your legs dangle wider, heels kicking uselessly against his lower back, the sheer size difference making you feel like you are being split open and rearranged from the inside while he holds you like a toy.
he starts hammering into you with that filthy new angle, cock bullying that spot over and over until your eyes roll back and broken sobs start spilling from your slack mouth.
the overstimulation crashes in hard and fast, your already sensitive pussy clenching and spasming around him while tears prick at the corners of your eyes and start to slip down your flushed cheeks.
your hand flies down between your bodies on instinct, palm pushing weakly at his lower stomach like you can stop the relentless drag of his cock, fingers scrabbling against the damp fabric of his white shirt. nanamiâs eyes narrow, jaw tightening, and he leans in close, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he hisses the words low and dark, âdo that again and iâll fucking hurt you good.â
the threat hits you like a live wire. your whole body seizes, a choked cry tearing from your throat, and then you are squirting hard around his cock, hot fluid gushing out in messy pulses that soak his jeans, drip down his balls, and splatter onto the floor beneath you.
nanami groans deep and filthy at the feeling, the wet heat flooding around him making his cock twitch violently inside you. he does not slow down. if anything he fucks you harder, hips snapping up with wet, punishing slaps while his free hand slides between your bodies and starts tracing tight, relentless infinity signs over your swollen clit with two thick fingers. the pressure is mean and perfect, circling and dragging in that figure-eight pattern while he keeps pounding into that nasty folded angle, cock bullying your g-spot and his fingers never letting up on your overstimulated clit.
âi know, baby, i know,â he rasps against your ear, voice hoarse and strained, the words almost soothing even as he wrecks you. âyou can take it. just let it happen.â your legs shake violently around his waist, tears streaming freely now, little hiccuping sobs mixing with the wet squelch of your pussy taking every brutal thrust.
nanami keeps that freaky rhythm going, hips rolling deep, fingers drawing those endless infinity loops over your clit until your vision whites out and another shattering orgasm rips through you, pussy clamping down so hard it almost forces him out. he hisses through his teeth, sweat dripping from his brow onto your chest, but he powers through it, fucking you straight through the peak and into the trembling aftershocks.
his own control finally snaps. his balls tighten almost painfully, cock swelling even thicker inside your fluttering walls as he buries himself to the hilt one last time, grinding deep while thick, hot ropes of cum flood you. he comes with a low, broken groan that vibrates through his chest, pulsing hard and endless, filling you so full that it starts leaking out around his cock in creamy white streaks every time he gives one last shallow thrust.
the mess is everywhere, your squirt and his cum dripping down your thighs, soaking the front of his jeans and pooling on the floor, the obscene wet sounds slowly fading as he keeps you pinned against the wall, still buried deep, both of you heaving for air.
nanamiâs forehead drops to your shoulder, breathing hard, the last energy well spent, showing of with both of your sweat-soaked body mixing with the sharp smell of sex filling the room. his arms stay locked around you, holding your smaller frame effortlessly even as his cock twitches with the last weak spurts inside you.
for a long moment the only sounds are your shaky sobs and his ragged breathing, bodies trembling together in the aftermath, messy and spent and still connected. he does not pull out yet. he just keeps you there, suspended in his arms, the quiet weight of everything that just happened settling heavy between you while his cum continues to leak slowly out around where he is still buried deep.
nanami stays buried inside you for what feels like forever, thick cock still twitching with the last lazy pulses while warm cum slowly leaks out around where your bodies are joined, dripping down your thighs and onto the floor in messy little trails.
your legs are still wrapped around his waist, trembling, heels digging weakly into his lower back like you cannot quite let go yet, and he keeps holding you up without any effort, strong arms locked under your ass, keeping your smaller frame suspended against the wall like it is the most natural thing in the world. your shaky little sobs eventually quiet into soft, hiccuping breaths, tears drying on your cheeks, but the overstimulation still makes your pussy flutter weakly around him every few seconds, milking out another thin trickle of his cum.
finally he shifts, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he carefully pulls out, the wet sound loud and obscene in the quiet room.
a thick glob of his cum follows immediately, sliding out of your swollen, puffy pussy and running down to join the mess already pooled beneath you. he lowers you gently until your feet touch the floor, but your legs are too shaky to hold you, so he keeps one arm banded around your waist, steadying you against his chest while his other hand tucks himself back into his briefs and jeans with a quiet zip.
the white button-up is wrinkled and damp with sweat when he puts it back on, black jeans dark at the front from your squirt, but he still looks put-together in that quiet, solemn way of his, even now.
he does not say anything at first. just looks down at you with those dark, heavy eyes, thumb brushing slow circles on your bare hip like he cannot quite stop touching you. then he exhales, long and tired, and rests his forehead against yours for a brief second.
âthisâŚâ his voice comes out rough, low, almost reluctant. âthis canât happen again.â
the words hang between you, simple and final, even as his hand lingers on your skin and his cum continues to drip slowly down the inside of your thigh.
he presses one last, almost gentle kiss to your temple, the kind of kiss that feels heavier than any promise, before he steps back. his fingers flex once at his sides like he is fighting the urge to pull you close again, then he turns toward the door, shoulders straight, footsteps quiet on the floor.
âget some rest,â he murmurs without looking back, the manly scent of him still clinging to your skin. âand⌠call the building manager about the router next time.â
the door clicks shut behind him, leaving you standing there naked and trembling in the middle of your living room, thighs sticky, pussy aching and full of him, the quiet weight of what just happened settling deep in your chest. you know he means it. you also know, deep down, that neither of you really believes it.
well yâall i had to claw my nails onto a wall to storm this idea so it better do good or youâre not hearing from me again.. (iâm literally posting in few hours again đ)
dom!Sukuna whoâs fine with you touching yourself, so long as you donât put anything inside... nsfw 18+ mdni.
ââââ ŕ¨ŕ§ ââââ
âYouâre soaked. Really gave her a workout, hm?â
His thumb swiped between your legs slowly, lazily. Just enough to graze over your clit, still perked and twitching with residual little sizzles of pleasure.
He paused a moment just to watch you clench around nothing, to indulge in the feeling of your clit pulsing beneath his thumb before his touch dipped lower. Calloused fingertips traced around your entrance, smearing the slick left drooling there in the wake of your nth orgasm.
âBut not here, right?â He questioned, voice nothing but a deep rumble as he teased at your rim.
You shook your head slowly, feeling dizzy and a little breathless. Brain fuzzy now with the delicate brush of his fingers tracing your neglected entrance, and the way his voice felt over your ears - silky and utterly decadent.
âOf course not,â he soothed, voice still low, painfully intimate, âbecause only Iâm allowed inside, isnât that right, pet?â
As the last word left him, his wrist finally moved. Two thick fingers slipping inside with an ease that made your stomach drop and your pulse leap to a frenzied thrum. Your body welcomed the contact, sucked the length of him inside greedily until you felt the heel of his palm grind against you.
âYes sirâŚâ you breathed, nothing but a whisper as you watched the muscle in his forearm jump from beneath half-lidded lashes. Listening to the slurry of wet noises he was beginning to draw from you, and huffing out a choked little gasp each time his palm kissed your sticky clit.
His fingers curled with an obscene âsquelch!â, petting somewhere deep and tender that had your lashes fluttering closed and a shaky breath escaping from between your parted, raw-bitten lips.
âThatâs a good girl,â he purred, savouring the sight of your chin hitting your chest as you began to melt into the mattress, the feeling of your pussy clenching desperately around his digits - blindly chasing a pleasure only he could provide.
saes mean to u as he fingers u content | smut, fem!reader, fingering, degradation, cum swallowing
âlook at you,â sae muttered in your ear. âso wet for me.â
his two fingers kept pumping in and out of your wet cunt, making you let out a moan of pleasure each time. sae had you looking like a flushed, sweating wreck. shaky legs, quivering lips, glassy eyes.
and fuck. with the amount of juices gushing out of you, you might as well have given your whole body up for him. every single time â he was able to make you so fucking wet. all from his mean, mocking words.
the rhythm of his fingers pushing and pulling out of your pussy was accompanied by the sloppiest schlick! schlick! sounds. that with your whines, you were the loudest thing in the room.
âso fucking loud,â he groaned airily against your face. âdo you ever shut up?â
âmmf . . .â you stifle a moan. his words hit you right in the face, making a wave of pleasurable self-resentment make your pussy even more wet.
the corner of saeâs mouth twitch slightly upwards. âyou like when i do this? how fucking filthy.â
he stopped the pace of his fingers. at the feel of him taking them out, you ravenously felt empty and starved. the walls of your wet cunt pulsed inwards and outwards, absolutely desperate for him.
his fingertips ran down your slick folds, making you shudder.
âaâah!â you squeak.
âyeah,â he whispered lowly, his heavy-lidded eyes focused on your bare wet pussy. âlook at that. so damn wet.â
he watched closely this time when he inserted his two fingers back into you. staring at the gradual stretching of your glossy cunt. his tongue unconsciously swiped his bottom lip, showing his clear arousal.
the sounds of his fingers fucking you echoed in the room with those same sloppy, gushing schlick! schlick! sounds.
âyâhear that?â he slurred, now looking up at you. âthatâs all you.â
your throat ached from your crying moans. before you could even begin to say anything, sae leaned in, kissing you with filthy fervour. you couldnât catch your breath.
he pulled away, his gaze boring into your teary eyes. âgonna cum all over my fingers?â
âyâyes,â you sputtered, spit bubbling out of your shaky mouth.
sae scoffed, narrowing his eyes slightly. âfilthy girl.â
you sucked on air as your body went cold. then, heat â everywhere.
squirt!
âhnngh . . !â you groaned, feeling your pussy tenderly squeeze around his fingers, sopping with your slick and oozing cum.
âyeah,â sae breathed, his breath fanning your face. âcum all over my fingers.â
your lower stomach slowly drained of tension. the more you rode out your orgasm, the more the knot inside you unraveled. fuck. it felt so good. you involuntarily bucked your hips slightly up, making saeâs fingers hit a new angle inside of you.
âhahâ ah!â you whimper, the pleasure blanking your mind.
sae clicked his tongue, pulling out his fingers once your high died down.
and he shoved them into your mouth without a second thought.
âmmâ!â you muffle in surprise, the taste of your own cum short circuiting your mind.
âcâmon, taste how fucking gross you are,â he cooed mockingly. âyou loud, pathetic fuck.â
you instinctively followed his words, slurping on the goopy, slicky coating on saeâs fingers. sae watched, his eyes lightening up at the sight of your pathetic, big-eye gaze.
he finally forced his fingers out your mouth, watching as you swallowed. he imperceptibly bit his lip, his hand sliding down to adjust the erection in his pants.
âyouâre so fucking disgusting,â he whispered raspily. he leaned in and lightly nipped at your neck. âitâs so fucking hot.â
Riding Sylus is a daunting task. Everything about him is large and impressive. His cock is no different.
âGodâŚâ Youâve barely sunk down an inch and you need a break, resting your head on his shoulder. He rubs your back soothingly, the heat of him making you near dizzy.
âYouâre doing so good.â He praises you, his gaze soft as he studies your pinched expression. He doesnât offer to take over just yet. Youâd insisted on this after all.
âYouâŚyour cock is so big.â You murmur, moving to sink down a bit more. His grip on your waist tightens, his jaw clenched. Sylus won't admit it, but you're practically torturing him with this pace.
"You can take it sweetie. Such a good girl." The adoration in his voice makes you clench, finally sinking down on his length. You both moan in tandem, your nails digging into the muscle of his arms.
"Knew you could do it." He smirks, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips as you blink away the stars from your vision. He's so deep like this, so deep you can almost feel him in your throat.
Now you just need to move.
"C-could you help me a little?" You mumble the request, almost embarrassed. For once, Sylus doesn't tease you. Perhaps because he's just as desperate as you are.
The moment his hips jerk up into yours, you moan. He sets a steady pace, not fast or slow, just deep. Your eyes roll back as he pounds up into you. It's almost immediate, how quick your orgasm builds.
"S-Sylus oh my god!" You gasp, working your hips against his. You lean in to connect your lips to his, mostly to hold off from cumming so soon. It's a desperate, sloppy kiss, and it apparently has the opposite effect for Sylus.
"Fuck..." His head falls back, brows knit in pleasure as his cum fills you, spilling out and making an even bigger mess between your thighs. You slow your movements, eyes wide.
Thinking about Simon trying Tinder for the first time but itâs not what he expected. He signed up without telling anyone because if he had uttered a word about it, you already know Johnny or Kyle is going to snoop through his phone to look at his profile.
But Simon being Simon, he doesnât know how to present himself in a good light. His photos were bad; he took two selfies as he created his profile and they were not good to say the least. One was a mirror photo of him holding his tiny phone with both of his hands as he stoically stared into the mirror. The other was just a selfie of him except it wasnât angled high or even remotely attractive. It was angled down as if he was taking some sort of quick snap.
The only thing saving his profile was a photo of Riley wearing a vest and goggles.
His bio was the worst of them all.
âI like working out. I have a busy job.â
That was it.
No personality, no indication that he wanted more than just a quickie.
Simon wasnât expecting much out of the app and he was right because the next day, he opened up the app to find no matches.
Got the man thinking that he really was ugly.
It ruined his self esteem a little if he said so himself. Simon didnât care about what other people thought but gosh, not even one person wanted to match with him?
âŚ. And then he learned that he also had to swipe to get matches.
So on Simonâs off day, he practically spent half of the day swiping through people. He was picky, believe it or not.
Boring bio? Bye.
Too much filters or AI? Bye.
Too corny? Bye.
Clearly only looking for a one night stand? Bye.
Kind of hypocritical considering his profile looks like he only spent five minutes creating (which he did).
Just when Simon was about to give up on his love life for good, the last profile he stopped on was yours. Simple, nice photos, interesting bio and funny prompts. He hesitatedâ not because he wanted to skip, but in fear of rejection. Because if he swiped right and there was no âitâs a match!â, heâd probably wonder if heâll ever find the love of his life.
His thumb hovered over the middle of his phone before he pressed down and swiped right.
Itâs a match!
His phone lit up with the two profiles and underneath was his chance to send a message first.
Fuck. He didnât know what to say. Should he try to be funny? Or start it off with a simple hey?
Simon began typing, deleting, typing and deleting the same message for the next two minutes before finally settling with a: âHi. How are yâ
He typed too fast that he didnât even finish his sentence before he pressed sent.
SUMMARY â he believes you don't matter to him. just one more annoying fangirl. showing up to his races, being obnoxiously chatty and your flirtingâgod, does it end? sukuna dreads you. however, he starts reciprocating, as a joke, of course! until it doesn't feel like a joke anymore and he wants nothing but you on his side.
PAIRING â streetracer!sukuna x fem!reader
CONTENT WARNINGS / GENRES / TAGS â smau w/ written chapters, smut, angst, sukuna is a lot older than reader, older brother to choso and yuji, he was in jail for getting caught racing LOL, nsfw/vulgar jokes like allll the time, inumaki talks (UNFORTUNATELY), sukuna playing w her feelings, he is toxic!
Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Disgustingly loving sex (sorry). Soft dom!Simon Talks You Through Itâ˘ď¸ Creampie. Brief mention of Readerâs insecurities w sex
Note: Iâm on Instagram now (kinda), come say hi :-)
Word count: 2.1k
It wasnât like you hadnât tried before.
Youâd had your fair share of lovers and experienced more than a good deal of fun. With everyone in the past, climax came the same way, every single time: clitoral stimulation, and clitoral stimulation alone.
By this point in your life, you suspected your g-spot was probably just a figment of your imagination, no more real than Atlantis, Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy.
That was, until, you met your boyfriend, Simon.
And things had only been official for a week.
You and him had fooled around a handful of timesâmade love, as he called it, and kissed and cuddled and occasionally dry-humped until the two of you were both panting, groaning messesâbut all of this was new. Simon was still learning you, as you were him.
He finished between your tits. You came on his tongue. He fingered you to the point of tears, and you learned how to touch his sac just right to get him to blow his load in seconds. On this night in particular, you were fucking missionary, and holding hands while you did.
Lovesick puppies, Price would say. Neither one of you seemed able to unglue your lips or unlace your fingers or keep your hips from colliding again and again and again in frantic search of the otherâs furthest depths. You were perfectly wrapped up, with no desire to move
Except, you needed to reach down between your bodies to actually get off. That was a minor detail.
You didnât think the man above you would mind if you moved your touch from his, but then that grip tightened the second you tried pulling away.
âKeep it there, lovie. Like holding you like this,â he said.
You enjoyed it, too. It was intimate, and sweet, and with your hands pinned on either side of you, locked securely in his, you felt safe. You just couldnât finish.
âBut IâŚI need to come,â you whispered against him. You rolled your hips and felt his cock twitch inside you.
Simon grunted, then swallowed. Nodded slowly.
âYeah. Iâll get you there. Feel this?â
He slid deeper for emphasis.
You didnât.
You rarely did, or at least not in the way you figured you were supposed to get when something pressed there.
âI thinkâŚsort of, yeah,â you hedged your answer.
Donât bruise his ego, donât hurt his feelings.
This is all on me, Si, I promise itâs not you.
Cutting in over your thoughts, Simon moved swiftly. Took your hips in his big, strong hands, lifted up, and plunged his cock to the hilt. The girth of him was enough to knock the air out of your lungs, and you felt your walls stretch, sting, and weep sweet liquid warmth around that intrusion. You moaned.
âBetter?â The manâs question was simple.
Before you could answer it, he was sliding a pillow underneath your backside. Sawing his long, thick, leaking cock in and out of you, he reached a new spot.
You made a face, feeling good from that butâŚstrange.
Simon snatched your hands up again and planted them beside your head on the mattress. He thrusted steadily. He peppered kisses all over your face and your neck while the bed frame squeaked in time, and you had to dig your heels into his ass to ground yourself.
âTalk to me, baby. Canât make it better if you donât.â
âIâI know, I just canâtââ
At the same time, Simon tilted your hips slightly once more, and the tip of his cock kissed something soft and wet and dizzyingly pleasurable inside your body. A loud, embarrassing cry slipped out between your lips.
You wanted to clap a hand over your mouth, hating the way youâd just sounded, but your fingers were stuck to his. Simon grinned down at you, toothy and approving.
âCanât do what, now, darlinâ?â
The warm, bulbous head of his cock had found its mark, and he just kept prodding that spot, like it entertained him to do it. The fingers laced between your own constricted their grip even more, and Simon leaned down to kiss you while his cock carved a mind-numbing path. In between kisses, he praised you.
âThatâs my girl. Sheâs likinâ it now, isnât she?â
But still, somehow, it just wasnât quite enough.
Maybe youâd never found that place after all.
This was where most men gave upâafter a few good minutes of fucking when their balls had gotten to be as swollen as stones and their bodies were aching for release, more often than not, theyâd go off chasing their own high. That was when you usually started rubbing your clit, or waited for your partner to finish so they could get you off with their tongue or something.
You hated to feel like a burden, and you really despised the thought of being the reason your sweet Simon couldnât get to orgasm. So you squirmed again.
Straining to reach down, to try and touch yourself, you whimpered, âSi, please, it justâit takes me too longââ
âGood thing weâve got all night,â Simon replied bluntly.
Then, once again, he twisted your bodies like you were as soft and malleable as putty in his hands, and this time, he hitched one of your legs around his hip, high.
With one slow-rolling thrust and an audibly squelching sound, Simonâs cock stretched your hole to maximum capacity, and then a little more. Your juices leaked down his shaft, aiding the slide, and he stabbed in a few shallow strokes. Probing. Testing the waters, as if he were trying to find something hidden inside you.
You sucked in a breath. Simonâs gaze slid to yours.
âLetâs find that precious spot, lovie. Easy, now.â
Gently coaxing your body open, he drove a slow, measured pace. He split your cunt like it was the easiest thing in the world, delving within your wet, velvety heat to tease every contour and crevice of your pussy. His tip leaked precome. His balls glistened in your arousal and landed with the gentlest plap, plap, plaps while he explored your insides with his member.
It really was as simple as that, nothing more and nothing less than poking around. Having patience.
âS-Si,â you stammered, nose wrinkling slightly.
âWhatâsâat, baby? Got something to tell me?â
Like a teacher, almost, he pressed for more.
Like his cock was showing you something new about your body but he needed your help to tell him just how and where to find it, Simon took care to be kind. He smoothed a hand over the crown of your head and then cradled the back of it, one massive set of fingers splayed out against your skull and engulfing it wholly.
He still held onto your other hand tight.
Your cunt pulsed. Ached. Fluttered around him.
Stuffed to the brim, you had only to feel, and murmur:
âHigher.â
âHigher?â
âUm, to theâŚto the left.â
Simon tilted his hips left.
Yes.
That was just it. So close.
AlmostâŚ
Or, maybeâŚ
âMaybe it justâŚisnât there,â you huffed out, deflating. âKnow youâre trying so hard, baby, but I think I canâtââ
Then Simon hit the same spot as before, only higher.
Just like youâd told him: to the left, and thenâŚ
âOh, fuck,â you cursed. âOh, fuckfuckfuck.â
The grin above you stretched even wider.
âThere, lovie?â Simon goaded you on.
âRight there.â You nodded furiously.
A wave of pleasure swept through your limbs, from your core down to the soles of your feet. Your toes curled, and you squeaked, feeling Simonâs cock graze that soft, spongy, sensitive placeâexcept heâd pushed in deeper. The sensation made your eyes roll back.
âLittle dove doesnât mind my pokinâ after all, huh?â Simonâs words were a tease, but you heard a strain in them, too. The second you were caught in the throes of real pleasure, your cunt mustâve clamped like a vice.
âKeepâŚkeep pokinâ, Si,â you choked out. âI like it.â
Your lover kept at itâpoking from the inside.
The routine almost felt like losing your virginity all over again, together. Simon cradled your head, told you how good you were doing, how sweet you were for him, and you whimpered under his hold. Squirmed and clung to him for dear life, then kissed him feverishly.
Simonâs mouth was hard and hungry, his thrusts deep. His cock throbbed within the wet, clenching confines of your pussy, and he seemed to be going wild at the feeling. With the idea that he was driving you wild, too.
You realized as much when he whispered it to you.
âCould lose my bloody mind when youâre like thisââ Another sharp, labored breath. Another shudder passing through his body when your insides squeezed. ââso why didnât you talk? Ask for what you needed?â
Your voice was small. âDidnât wanna be a bother.â
Your eyes were locked with Simonâs, and in his irises, you caught a shade of concern. It flared, hot as anything, then mixed with disbelief. Disappointment.
âDonât be angry, Si, Iââ you started, hurried.
ââMânot.â Simon blinked. But he gritted his teeth, and he withdrew his cock until the head was bumping and teasing between your folds, then he shook his head. âItâs those fuckinâ pricks who should be sorry, yeah?â
The ones that youâd been with before.
You wanted to protest, insist that you were at least partly to blame, but you never got the opportunity.
Simon was back inside you in a blink.
Hitting that same spot again, and again, and again.
He grinned, the tic of a muscle in his jaw telling you that he was less amused this time around, but proud.
Vindicated.
âWell. Itâs not like theyâre ever gettinâ a chance in between these pretty legs again, are they, lovie?â
You nodded in agreement.
You smiled back at him, only to have that gentle curve falter a little when you felt Simonâs thrusts accelerate.
âOnly thing thatâs gonna touch this spot otherân my cock is my seed, splatterinâ all over your walls, right?â
When he gave a playful nip to your lower lip and squeezed your hand tighter, you knew that he meant it. The man had plunged so deep inside you that his pubic bone was now grinding against your skin, and the rest of him was buried. His balls, all full and warm and heavy with his release, rested firmly in your cleft.
And the steady, measured strokes of his cock landed with near-surgical precision on the G-spot youâd convinced yourself up until tonight didnât exist.
Simon beamed. You were overcome with ecstasy.
âThis it, lovie? This spot right âere?â he cooed.
His cock bobbed against that gummy and indescribably dizzying place, causing your last moan to morph into something more akin to a shriek.
You nodded your head: âY-Yes. Yes.â
âFeel good when I hit it?â
âFucking perfect, Si.â
You sighed when the man bottomed out for what felt like the millionth time, and the pleasure never waned. He felt just as good now as he did when he first got in.
âYeah? Gonna come on my cock then, pretty girl?â
âYeah. Iâmâ Iâm so close.â
âGo on then, love.â
And, shortly, you did.
Maybe three, four, five more stabs of his cock to your most precious, intimate place and you were unraveling beneath him, stars bursting in your line of vision. It seemed dramatic to say, but that was really what it came toâyour mouth hanging open, eyes wide, gaze peering into Simonâs while he fucked you through the most intense orgasm of your life. You clung to him, and your walls spasmed again and again and again, milking the manâs release in the next few seconds. Simon shuddered and grit his teeth as he unloaded a thick, gooey load inside, dousing that spongy, body-numbing spot and then some. The two of you moaned in unison.
Your body was boneless, your head a hazy mess.
It took several seconds for your conscious mind to come back online fully, and when it did, Simon was leaning in again and planting kisses along your face.
âThatâs my girl,â he murmured, breath fanning hot across your skin. âMy perfect girl. You did so good.â
You smiled and caught his mouth for a proper kiss.
âThank you,â you murmured against him.
Then Simon squeezed your handâthe one heâd been holding this entire time. He lifted it gently, like he was afraid too rough of a movement might split you in two.
He turned your wrist and kissed the back of your hand, eyes locked on yours and expression soft while he did.
Going to the dentist was scary, but meeting your dentist was even scarier. For him, you were a blessing in disguise. In reality, Dr. Toji Fushiguro was a sick pervert in disguise.
Poor you, always eating sweets and unfailingly landing a seat in Tojiâs clinic. Heâd always claim how you were his favorite patient, how youâd always be good with keeping your mouth open and wide. Maybe it was because he was money hungry, or maybe it was because youâd let him do whatever he wanted without you truly knowing what his intentions were. You just somehow always ended back here, right in front of him.
âYouâre a bad, bad girl. Mommy and Daddy ever tell ya candy is bad for you?â
Heâd squeeze your shoulder, squeeze your cheeks, always look you in the eyes to see your cute reactions. The way your eyebrows always furrowed. Gosh, did that do something to him.
Heâd purposely lower the dosage of lidocaine heâd give you just so he could get pleasure off of seeing you in pain. The way your eyes watered when heâd shove his fingers too far down your throat when heâd examine your teeth, the way heâd hit the nerves of your tooth just to hear you moan in pain.
He just wanted to see those watery eyes look into his. He could only imagine what youâd look like with his cock in your mouth. Just the way your mouth opened and how youâd gag on only his finger touching the middle of your tongue,
âWouldnât bare a chance with it in yur mouth.â
âWha..?â
He was so lost in what he was doing to you, always talking to himself. You were just irresistible. I mean, maybe you did already suck him off. Just moments before you came in for your appointment, he was stuck in the bathroom thinking about you, hand wrapped tightly around his cock as he whispered your name, mentioning how good of a girl you were.
Those same hands were now shoved in your mouth, getting your saliva all over his bare hands as he examined whatever he claimed to be bad.
Seeing those salty tears slip from your pretty little eyes, your cheeks and nose turning red, it just made him appreciate his position even more. He had full control over you, could lie whenever he wanted just to get you back in front of him. At the end of the day, he was Dr. Fushiguro.
Heâd slip his gloves off after âfixingâ your cavity and give you the warmest, innocent smile. Oh how he loved dumb, innocent girls like you. Always using your daddyâs card and never really knowing what was being done to your mouth.
Heâd slide his bare finger across your lips, rubbing the pad of his thumb across your teeth before taking his hand away. Beautiful teeth you have, too bad youâve got a dirty mouth.
âBetter take care of that dirty lilâ mouth of yours, sweetheart. Donât want all that beauty going to waste now, do we?â
â . . being stuck with frenemies with benefits!satoru in a packed car
the car is way too packed.
windows fogging up from bodies crammed into a space thatâs definitely not meant for this. youâre stuck on satoruâs lap in the back, your friends loud and distracted up front with music blasting and snacks being passed around.
at first, itâs subtle when his hands settle politely on your hips. but after a few minutes you feel him shift, spreading his thighs wider so your core presses firmly against one of his thick thighs. his fingers flex, slowly starting to guide your hips in tiny movements.
you turn your head slightly and glare at him hard over your shoulder.
âsatoru, stop,â you hiss under your breath, eyes narrowed in warning.
he just smiles that tiring, infuriating smile, lips brushing your ear. âwhat? iâm just trying to get comfortable.â
you try to stay still, refusing to give him the satisfaction, but he keeps rocking you subtly, the firm muscle of his thigh dragging right against your clit through your thin shorts.
heat builds fast between your legs no matter how much you fight it. you dig your nails into his wrist, trying to still his hands, but he only tightens his grip and pulls you down harder.
âbehave,â you mutter, shooting him another sharp glare.
satoru chuckles quietly, breath warm against your neck. âyou first.â
bitch.
you hold out for a few more minutes, jaw clenched, but the constant pressure is too good. eventually your hips start moving on their own, small, reluctant rolls that turn into slow, needy grinds. you hate how quickly you give in, but the way his thigh feels against your soaked pussy is addictive.
âthatâs my girl,â he whispers smugly, one hand slipping under your hoodie to palm your breast while the other keeps guiding your movements.
youâre grinding properly now, dragging your clit along his leg in steady circles, trying desperately to stay quiet. your shorts are getting soaked, the wet patch growing on his sweats with every roll of your hips. satoruâs cock is rock hard against your ass, twitching every time you press down.
you donât notice how, suddenly, your friend in the passenger seat turns around, eyebrows furrowed.
âhey, you okay back there?â her concerned face wouldâve made your heart melt if you werenât humping satoruâs thigh under you. âyour face is super red and you look kinda hot, you getting carsick or something?â
your heart jumps, whole body freezing mid-grind, still flushed and breathing heavier than you should be.
well fuck.
before you can answer, satoru jumps in smoothly, voice casual and unbothered.
âyeah sheâs good.â you feel his thump caress the skin under your breast. âshe gets motion sickness really easily on these winding roads.â he says. âplus she wore that hoodie even though i told her itâs warm in the car. stubborn as hell.â
he gives your thigh a little squeeze under the hoodie, like heâs comforting you. you let out a weak chuckle, playing along even though your pussy is still throbbing against his thigh.
âyeah⌠iâm fine,â you manage, voice a little strained. âjust warm. thatâs all.â you drag the last part, turning to the side which is enough to give him a glare.
your friend nods and turns back around, satisfied. the second the whole attention is gone, satoruâs hand slides between your legs from the front, pressing two fingers against your clit through your soaked shorts while you keep grinding.
âclose call,â he murmurs, amused. ânow be a good girl and finish what you started.â
youâre too worked up to fight anymore. you ride his thigh harder, hips rolling desperately, chasing that tight coil of pleasure building fast in your stomach. satoru keeps rubbing your clit in tight circles, lips pressed to your shoulder to hide his own heavy breathing.
when you cum, it hits you hard. your thighs shake around his leg as you bite down on your lip to stay silent, pussy clenching and soaking his thigh completely. your whole body trembles in his lap while he holds you down, making sure you ride every wave.
after a long moment, satoru kisses the side of your neck softly, voice low and satisfied.
âgood girl⌠look at the mess you made on me.â
you stay slumped against his chest, still breathing hard, knowing this stupid friends-with-benefits thing is getting way too dangerous.
i didnât know this could be an option.. frenemies with benefits and satoru combo??? đ
Hear me out.. Dad Choso apologizing to his daughter while still fucking his cock into her...
ugh...yesss
n Dad!Choso is crying while he fucks his cock into you, begging for you to forgive him as he stuffs ur pussy with his cum one more time :( His thick cock pulsed meanly in ur walls, making you clench hard onto him, as if you were milking him for more...ahh...
He can't stop himself, the speed of his thrusts slowly builing up once more. Your pussy was just so perfect, puffy and red and all swollen from how much he'd been fucking you :( But even tho he feels sososo bad he can't stop!
Even though your pussy was all used and tired, he just kept going. It wasn't until you had weakly woken up hours later, room suddenly smelling like urine and your tummy swelling slightly with a mix of piss and cum, that you had looked up and met your teary eyed, lust filled father's face.
áĄŕ§ OFF LIMITS: Brotherâs Best friend!Satoru Gojo
áĄŕ§ synopsis: in which your brotherâs best friend, satoru gojo has spent years keeping his distance, treating you like the little sister heâs supposed to protect. but when your brother leaves town and asks him to âkeep an eye on you,â the careful line heâs been walking finally starts to crack. what was meant to be an innocent visit to check on you quickly turns into something forbidden and filthy, something neither of you can walk away from anymore.
áĄŕ§ pairings: brotherâs best friend!satoru x fem!reader
áĄŕ§ c. warnings: heavy yearning, heavy sexu-al tension (like super heavy!), emotional restraints, dry hum-ping, protected se-x, ti-ts play, sp-it play (?), mutual pining, did i say heavy se-xual tension? slight size kink, overstim, thigh rid-ing, we have an aftercare this time yayyyy! â word count: 7.2k+
youâve known satoru gojo since you were six years old and he was twelve, the loud, white-haired boy your older brother dragged home after school like a stray cat he refused to leave behind.
back then satoru was all gangly limbs and bright blue eyes, always stealing your snacks and letting you ride on his shoulders when your brother got tired of carrying you. the three of you became a little unit almost instantly. movie nights on the living room floor, summer afternoons at the park, late-night video games where satoru would let you win just to watch you cheer.
your brother was officially his best friend, but somewhere along the line the lines blurred.
you were never sure if satoru was your brotherâs best friend or yours. he was just⌠satoru. the constant reminder in your life who knew how you liked your ice cream and remembered your favorite color even when you changed it every month.
years passed and the dynamic shifted without anyone noticing at first. you grew up, and growing up consisted of puberty.
satoru grew taller, broader, more dangerously handsome with that lazy grin that made girls at school blush. but you stayed the little sister in everyoneâs eyes, the one who tagged along behind her brother and his best friend, the one who fell asleep on the couch between them during horror movies, the one satoru would tuck a blanket over with gentle hands while your brother snored on the other side.
everyone else thought like that but satoru. satoru noticed the changes. he noticed the way your legs got longer, the way your laugh got softer and feminine, the way your body filled out in ways that made his throat tight and his thoughts guilty. he told himself it was nothing. you were his best friendâs little sister, which meant youâre off-limits. and by off-limits, youâre a forbidden fruit he wasnât allowed to even look at for too long or he would rot you with his dirty thoughts.
nobody sensed how he started pulling away in small ways when you turned eighteen. longer gaps between visits, fewer sleepovers, more excuses about being busy with college and then with work. but he never stayed away completely. satoru couldnât.
every time he saw you he felt that familiar pull, the way his chest tightened when you smiled at him like he hung the moon for you. the way his cock would twitch traitorously when you wore those tiny shorts around the house in the summer every time he came over and god, he hated himself for it because right after heâs done, he would go home after and jerk off in the shower with his jaw clenched, whispering your name like a curse while hot water beat down on his back, telling himself it was the last time.
it was never the last time.
now youâre twenty-two and heâs twenty-eight. your brother still treats you like the kid who used to beg for piggyback rides. satoru still calls you âboogersâ sometimes, but the word tastes bitter on his tongue now.
the three of you still hang out, still have movie nights from time to time since satoru could never say no to your asking, he joins your family and still act like nothing has changed. but everything has. satoru can barely look at you without feeling the weight of all those years of wanting. he watches the way you move around the kitchen in your sleep shorts when youâre getting snacks ready for the movies, the way your t-shirt rides up when you reach for something on the top shelf, the way you laugh at his stupid jokes and rest your head on his shoulder like itâs the most natural thing in the world.
every innocent touch feels like torture. every time your thigh brushes his on the couch he has to fight the urge to pull you into his lap and show you exactly what you do to him.
this time your brother is out of town this weekend for a work trip he couldnât get out of.
he left satoru with the spare key and the casual instruction to âkeep an eye on her.â satoru laughed it off on the phone, responding with a choked âyeah, âcourse, i got you man.â but the second he hung up his mind was already spinning. he told himself heâd just check in once, maybe bring some takeout, make sure you werenât lonely and nothing more.
but fuck was he wrong, cause satoru only lasted exactly four hours before your text came through:
âmovie night? the new horror one just dropped. brotherâs gone so no one to complain about the jump scares :)â
he stared at the message for ten full minutes. then thatâs when he grabbed his keys, all thoughts starting to get pumped to his dick.
when he knocks on your door itâs a little after ten. you open it wearing your usual oversized, small ribbons printed t-shirt and those damn cotton shorts that have haunted his dreams for years. your skin is soft under the radiating light from the porch, face bare, and you smile at him like heâs the best part of your night.
shit. satoru feels his stomach drop.
âhey, you came,â you say, stepping aside to let him in. your voice is casual, warm, the kind of voice that used to make him feel safe and now makes his cock stir in his sweatpants.
âcouldnât let you watch horror alone,â he replies, forcing that tired, loose grin. he holds up the bag of snacks like a peace offering. âbrought the good stuff.â
you laugh and it hits him straight in the chest. he follows you to the living room, trying not to stare at the way the hem of your shorts teases him in front of him. the fabric riding up with every step. the tv is already on, lights dimmed, blankets piled on the couch. you settle in your usual spot, patting the cushion beside you. satoru sits, puts the snacks down onto the coffee table, leaving what he hopes is a respectful distance, but you immediately scoot closer, tucking your legs under you and leaning your head against his shoulder like always.
maybe your nickname was not supposed to be boogers but dumbass cause you donât seem to take sign on how youâre making it hard for him to stay normal and sane. or so he thought.
the movie starts. the opening credits roll. satoru tries to focus on the screen. he really does. but all he can feel is the warmth of your body against his side, the soft press of your bare thigh against his, the faint vanilla scent of your shampoo. his hand rests on the back of the couch, fingers occasionally brushing your shoulder when he shifts.
every innocent touch feels loaded tonight. the house is too quiet without your brotherâs loud commentary. itâs just you and him and years of unspoken tension hanging heavy in the dark.
halfway through the first act you stretch, arms lifting above your head, shirt riding up to show a strip of soft stomach. satoruâs eyes flick down before he can stop them, fingers twitching not to touch you and when you settle again your leg presses fully against his. he doesnât move away. instead his fingers brush your shoulder again, slower this time, thumb stroking once along your skin.
âcold?â he asks, voice quieter than he means.
you shake your head, tilting your face up to look at him. your eyes are soft in the glow of the tv. âno. just getting comfortable.â
he swallows hard. his hand drops from the couch to rest lightly on your upper arm, thumb still stroking slow circles. the touch is supposed to be casual but it isnât. at least thatâs what satoru knows.
the movie keeps playing but the man sitting next to you is not really watching anymore. the air between you feels thicker, warmer, charged with everything youâve both been pretending doesnât exist for years.
satoruâs jaw clenches. he can feel his cock starting to thicken in his sweatpants, the traitorous heat building low in his gut. he tells himself to stop. he tells himself youâre his best friendâs little sister. he tells himself a lot of things.
you shift again, turning slightly so your knee brushes his thigh. and lord knows how heâs struggling not to make a sound, especially when your voice is barely above a whisper when you speak.
âsatoru?â
he looks down at you, blue eyes dark in the low light. âyeah?â
you bite your lip, just for a second, and the small movement sends another rush of blood straight to his cock.
âyouâve been really quiet tonight.â
fuck.
he forces a laugh, but it comes out strained. âam i?â he asks. âjust focused on the movie.â his reply doesnât satisfy you and you donât look convinced so your hand rests lightly on his chest, right over his heart. âliar.â you call him out.
liarâŚ
the sting of the word is heavy because satoru is not the only one suffering alone here, youâre a liar as well. and youâre pretending none of this is eating you alive when thatâs exactly how itâs been for you since satoru came to your house.
youâve been stiff as a board since the moment you sat down, even though youâre trying so hard to act normal. you can feel it in the way his shoulder has gone tight under your cheek, the way his breathing isnât quite as steady as usual, the way his long fingers keep flexing against the couch like he doesnât know what to do with them.
the tv flickers soft blue light across both of you, painting shadows over his sharp jaw and the faint flush creeping up his neck, but youâre not watching the movie anymore. youâre watching him, noticing every detail.
your hand stays light on his chest, right over his heart, and you can feel how fast itâs beating under your palm. thump-thump-thump, way too quick for someone whoâs supposedly just chilling on the couch. you shift a little closer, letting your bare thigh press more firmly against his â testing water â and thatâs when you notice it full.
the soft, heavy bulge under the dark blue-black sweatpants heâs wearing. itâs not fully hard yet, but itâs definitely there, thickening slowly against the loose fabric, the outline just visible every time the tv screen flashes brighter. your stomach flips, heat pooling low between your legs because you did that. youâre doing that to him right now, just by sitting here in your tiny shorts with your head on his shoulder like you always have.
the tension sits thick and heavy between you, wrapping around every small movement. every time you breathe, your chest brushes his arm.
every time he shifts, his thigh presses harder against yours. the air feels warmer than it should, like the room itself is holding its breath along with both of you. you can smell his cologne mixed with the faint mint from his gum, and underneath it all something warmer, something that makes your mouth water.
satoruâs hand on your upper arm hasnât stopped moving. his thumb keeps stroking those slow, careful circles, but now each pass feels heavier, more deliberate, like heâs fighting the urge to slide his whole palm down your skin.
you tilt your head up a little more, letting your breath fan across the side of his neck. his jaw clenches. you watch the muscle jump, watch the way his adamâs apple bobs when he swallows. the bulge in his sweatpants twitches again, growing thicker, the fabric starting to tent just enough that you can see the clear shape of him.
your own body reacts instantly, a warm rush between your thighs, your nipples tightening under the thin t-shirt. youâre suddenly aware of how little youâre wearing, how your shorts exposed so much skin the bottom curve of your ass is almost showing, how your shirt keeps slipping off one shoulder no matter how many times you fix it.
satoruâs fingers tighten on your arm for half a second before he forces them to relax. his breathing has gone shallow. you can feel the heat pouring off him, the way his thigh muscles are locked tight under your leg. the movie keeps playing, some girl screaming on screen, but none of you flinch and the only sound that matters is the quiet hitch in his breath when your knee accidentally nudges higher up his leg, brushing right against the side of that growing bulge.
he doesnât pull away. he stays perfectly still, like moving even an inch might break whatever fragile control he has left.
you bite your lip, heart hammering so loud youâre sure he can hear it. the flush on your neck is spreading, warm and prickly, and a tiny bead of sweat is already forming at the small of your back. you feel sticky and hot and aching, and all youâve done is sit here with your head on his shoulder.
the years of quiet âwantingâ press in harder tonight, sharper because your brother isnât here to act as a buffer. itâs just you and satoru and the heavy, suffocating knowledge that youâre both thinking about the same thing.
satoru clears his throat suddenly, the sound rough and forced. he shifts, moving his arm from around you, and stands up in one quick motion. his sweatpants do nothing to hide how hard he is now, the thick outline pressing obviously against the front, the fabric stretched tight. he keeps his back half-turned to you like that will somehow fix it.
âuh⌠i need some water,â he mutters, voice low and strained. âor a coke. something cold.â
you sit up slowly, fixing your shirt so it covers your shoulder again, but it doesnât help much. your skin feels too warm, a light sheen of sweat already making the back of your neck sticky. your cheeks are flushed, you can feel the heat in them, and between your legs youâre starting to get embarrassingly wet, the thin cotton of your panties clinging to you. you swallow, trying to sound normal even though your voice comes out a little breathy.
âoh yeah, okay. itâs in the fridge. you know your way around.â
satoru nods once, still not fully facing you, and heads toward the kitchen. his shoulders are stiff, steps a little too deliberate, like heâs forcing himself to put distance between you. you stay on the couch, legs pressed together, heart still racing and satoru disappears into the kitchen.
you stay on the couch, legs pressed tight together, trying to calm the flutter between your thighs. the movie is still playing but the sound feels distant, like itâs happening in another room. you can hear him open the fridge, the soft clink of a can, the quiet hiss when he cracks it open. a few seconds later he walks back in, coke in one hand, the other rubbing the back of his neck like heâs trying to shake something off.
heâs too distracted to consider bringing you one.
he looks at you for a long moment before he sits down again, this time leaving a little more space between your bodies but it doesnât help.
the air still feels charged, heavy with everything neither of you has said out loud. you notice the way his sweatpants still sit a little awkwardly, the thick line of his cock not fully softened, pressing against the fabric every time he shifts, manspread awkwardly.
your own skin is warm and sticky, a faint sheen of sweat on your neck and between your breasts, your nipples tight and sensitive under the thin t-shirt.
satoru takes a long sip of the coke, throat working, then sets the can on the coffee table. when he leans back against the couch his arm brushes yours again, and this time he doesnât pull away. his fingers find your shoulder once more, but instead of the casual thumb strokes from before, his whole palm settles there, warm and heavy.
it seems heâs calmed a bit.. which means youâre the one whoâs suffering hundred percent.
âyou okay?â he asks, voice low, a little rough around the edges.
you nod, but it feels like a lie. âyeah⌠just warm in here.â
his eyes flick down to the flushed skin of your neck, then lower to where your shirt has slipped off your shoulder again. he doesnât say anything, but his thumb starts brushing the bare skin near your collarbone. the touch is slow, almost absent, but it sends heat straight down your spine. you shift like youâre under a spell without thinking, your bare thigh sliding against his again, and this time your knee nudges right against the side of his cock through the sweatpants.
satoru inhales sharply. his hand slides from your shoulder down your arm, stopping at your wrist. his thumb presses lightly against your pulse point, feeling how fast your heart is racing.
âyouâre shaking,â he murmurs.
âso are you,â you whisper back.
the only light flickering on both of you is the glow from the tv, casting soft blue and white across both of you. satoru turns his head to look at you fully, blue eyes dark and conflicted, pupils blown wide as if heâs high. his free hand comes up, hesitating for half a second before he cups the side of your face, thumb brushing your lower lip.
âthis is a bad idea,â he says, eyes dancing over your lips but he doesnât sound convinced. his voice is thick, breath warm against your mouth.
âthen why does it feel so good?â you have no idea how words are forming in your mouth when your brain disconnected from your tongue a long time ago, and the only option you have is leaning into his touch.
he lets out a quiet, broken sound, half groan, half sigh. his thumb presses a little harder against your lip, parting it slightly. you part your lips more, letting the tip of his thumb slip just inside, brushing against your tongue. satoruâs eyes flutter for a second, jaw tight.
âfuck⌠youâre killing me.â
you suck gently on his thumb, just enough to make his breath hitch. his other hand slides down to your waist, gripping the fabric of your shirt like heâs anchoring himself. the tension snaps slowly, like a rubber band stretching thinner and thinner until it finally gives.
satoru pulls his thumb from your mouth with a wet sound and replaces it with his lips. the kiss starts soft, almost careful, lips sliding together warm and slow. but the second you make a small needy sound in the back of your throat he deepens it, tongue licking into your mouth, hot and hungry. years of holding back pour into that kiss, all the stolen glances, all the guilty nights in the shower, all the times he told himself no.
his hands slide down to your hips, gripping firmly as he pulls you sideways until youâre straddling one of his thick thighs. the moment your core settles over the hard muscle you both moan quietly into the kiss. your soaked panties press right against his leg, the thin cotton already clinging to your folds from how wet you are. satoruâs fingers dig into the soft flesh of your ass, guiding you into a slow, rolling grind.
you start moving. slow, deliberate rocks of your hips that drag your swollen clit along the firm muscle of his thigh. every pass makes the fabric of your shorts and panties rub against you, the friction hot and slick and perfect. each roll pushes more wetness out of you, soaking the cotton until it clings transparently to your pussy. satoru groans low in his chest when he feels the damp heat spreading across his thigh, his cock twitching hard in his sweatpants, the thick head nudging against your inner thigh with every grind.
he breaks the kiss with a wet sound, lips shiny, breathing ragged. his mouth trails down your neck, sucking softly at the sensitive skin, then lower, until his lips brush over your collarbone. when he reaches your chest he doesnât push your shirt up. instead he closes his mouth around one of your pebbled nipples right through the thin fabric.
the sensation is immediate and filthy. his tongue swirls slow and heavy over the stiff peak, soaking the cotton instantly. warm spit seeps through the material, making it cling to your breast, turning the white fabric translucent.
he sucks gently at first, then harder, pulling your nipple deeper into his mouth while his tongue flicks fast and wet. the wet patch grows, dark and shiny, the outline of your hard nipple completely visible through the soaked shirt. every pull of his mouth sends sharp sparks straight to your clit, making your hips roll faster against his thigh.
âmmh⌠fuck,â he groans against your chest, the vibration traveling through the damp fabric. âlook at you. letting me cover you with my spit. your bodyâs so fucking readyfor me already, yeah?â
he switches to the other nipple, sucking it deep into his mouth with a wet, obscene sound. more drool collects from the corners of his lips, smearing down the front of your shirt in shiny trails, soaking the fabric until both your tits are glistening and see-through. the cool air hits the wet patches and makes your nipples ache even more, stiff and sensitive under his relentless mouth. he keeps sucking noisily, alternating between slow, deep pulls and quick flicks of his tongue, you could swear his spit is probably dripping down your stomach now, making the front of your shirt stick to your skin.
youâre grinding harder, hips rolling in needy little circles, clit dragging over his thigh with every movement. the friction is slick and constant, your soaked panties sliding against the hard muscle, the wet sounds of fabric rubbing together mixing with the filthy noises his mouth makes on your chest. your hands are in his white hair, tugging gently, soft whimpers and gasps spilling from your lips every time he sucks particularly hard.
satoruâs cock is throbbing visibly in his sweatpants, the thick ridge pressing insistently against your inner thigh, leaking enough that a small dark spot has formed at the front. every time you grind forward the head of his cock nudges closer to your core, teasing you both with how close he is to where you both desperately want him to be.
he pulls back just enough to look at the mess heâs made. your shirt is completely ruined, plastered transparently to your tits, nipples dark and shiny with his spit, little droplets still sliding down your stomach. his eyes are heavy-lidded, breathing ragged, lips swollen and wet.
âso fucking pretty,â he murmurs, voice rough and low. âyâknow how iâve been dreaming about marking you up like this for years? look how filthy i got you⌠your brother will fuck me up.â
he leans in again, mouth latching back onto your nipple through the drenched fabric, sucking harder while his hands grip your ass tighter, helping you grind faster against him. the wet, messy sounds fill the room â his mouth sucking noisily, your slick panties sliding over his thigh, both of you breathing hard and shaky.
the tension is thick and suffocating, every slow grind and every wet kiss pushing you both closer to the edge without either of you saying it out loud yet.
after what feels like euphorically forever, satoru pulls back from your chest with a wet pop, lips shiny and swollen, eyes heavy as he looks at the absolute mess heâs made of your shirt.
his breathing is ragged, chest rising and falling fast under his hoodie, and for a second he just stares at you like he canât believe this is real. then his hand slips down, fingers dipping into the pocket of his sweatpants, and he pulls out a small foil packet. the condom glints under the dim light, and you raise a brow, lips parting in quiet surprise.
he catches the look and just shrugs, a lazy, almost sheepish tilt of his shoulders, causing your cheeks flushing darker. âhad to,â he mutters, voice low and rough, like the words are being dragged out of him. âcouldnât risk it. not with you.â
you let out a soft, cheeky laugh, the sound breathy and teasing even though your heart is hammering. âyouâve always wanted to fuck me, huh?â
satoruâs brows knit together instantly, that familiar stern little frown pulling at his face, but his eyes stay dark and hungry. âthatâs a vulgar word, boogers,â he says, the nickname slipping out like habit, but thereâs no real bite to it. he leans in and presses a soft, almost tender kiss to the tip of your nose, lips brushing there gently before he pulls back just enough to look at you again. âi want to make you feel good. thatâs all.â
you groan, half playful, half frustrated, and swat your hand lightly against his chest. âstop calling me boogers, toru. seriously!â
he just hums, low and warm, the sound vibrating through his chest as his hands slide to your hips. he helps lift you a little higher on your knees, giving himself room, and shoves his sweatpants and briefs down in one smooth motion. they pool around his calves, leaving his thick cock springing free, heavy and flushed, the head already glistening.
he tears the foil packet open with his teeth, the sharp sound cutting through the quiet room, and the sweet strawberry scent of the condom fills the small space between your bodies, fruity and almost too innocent for how filthy this feels.
satoru rolls it down his girthy tip first, jaw tightening as the latex stretches over him. a soft, broken whimper slips out of him when the cool material slides along his sensitive head, his hips twitching once before he rolls it all the way to the base with steady fingers. the condom sits snug, shiny and strawberry-sweet, the faint pink tint of it catching the tv light. he looks up at you then, eyes dark and solemn, waiting.
his hands move to your shorts and panties next, hooking into the waistband and sliding them down your thighs together in one slow tug.
you lift your hips to help, and the soaked fabric peels away from your pussy with a wet sound, leaving you completely bare from the waist down. he doesnât stop there. his fingers catch the hem of your spit-drenched shirt and peel it up and off, tossing it somewhere on the floor. now youâre completely naked in his lap, skin flushed and glowing under the flickering light, tits still shiny with his dirty work, pussy glistening and swollen from all the grinding.
satoru is still mostly dressed, only his hoodie on, sweatpants and briefs shoved down to his calves, the contrast making everything feel even unholy. he licks a bold stripe across his palm, tongue dragging slow and wet, then reaches between you and swipes the slick hand over your folds. the touch is warm and deliberate, fingers spreading your wetness, thumb brushing your clit once before he grips the base of his cock and guides the thick, condom-covered head to your entrance.
he presses in slow, so slow, the blunt tip stretching you open inch by careful inch. his brows knit tight with concentration, eyes locked on your face, watching for any flicker of pain or discomfort. you feel every thick ridge as he sinks deeper, the stretch burning sweet and full, your walls fluttering around him.
your eyes start to haze, lashes fluttering, jaw going slack as the overwhelming sensation of being filled by him hits you. your breathing stutters, lips parted on a silent gasp, completely detached for a moment while your body adjusts to the heavy, girthy length pushing inside.
satoru knew you were small compared to him but never did he think youâd be struggling to fit his fat cock in your tight cunt this much.
satoru stays perfectly still once he bottoms out, hips flush against yours, breathing hard through his nose. his hands grip your waist tight, thumbs stroking soothing circles on your skin as he waits, watching the way your eyes glaze over and your jaw hangs open. the strawberry scent mixes with the sharp smell of your arousal, the room quiet except for the low hum of the credit scene of the horror movie and the sound of both of you trying to breathe through the intensity.
âcan i move?â he asks, voice low and calculated, almost a whisper, like heâs afraid to break the moment. his brows are still knitted, waiting for any sign from you.
you canât find words right away. instead you just tap his shoulder once, twice, a small, mute signal that youâre okay, that you want this. satoru exhales shakily, relief and hunger mixing in the sound, and he starts to move.
at first itâs slow, careful rolls of his hips that drag his thick cock along your walls, the stretch burning so good it makes your breath hitch. you start grinding down to meet him, hips rolling in small, needy circles, your slick coating the base of his cock and smearing messily over the soft, dark trail of hair that runs from his navel down to where he disappears inside you. every grind leaves a shiny trail of your wetness glistening on his skin, the wet sounds squelching in the quiet room.
youâre vocal in little bursts, whispers of his name slipping out between shaky breaths. âsatoru⌠toruâŚâ the words are breathy, almost reverent, filling the living room like a secret. your hands slide up his hoodie, fingers digging into his chest as you grind harder, chasing the friction, the fullness, the way he fills you so completely.
âtoo big.. youâreâ toru, fuuuck,â you cry out.
satoru leans back against the couch, arms dropping to his sides for a moment, face going almost numb with pleasure. his blue eyes are half-lidded, lips parted, white hair messy and falling into his face as he watches you ride him. he looks completely under your spell, like the sight of you naked and grinding on his cock has short-circuited his brain. the curve of his cock jerks inside you when you desperately grab his hand and bring it to your tits, pressing his palm against the soft, post spit-slick flesh.
that seems to snap him back. his face shifts from dazed to focused in an instant, intention clear in the way his jaw tightens. he wants to make you feel good. thatâs all he cares about right now.
âi got you, yeah? âm here.â
he braces himself, planting his heels firmly on the floor, one arm wrapping tight around your hips while the other hand stays on your breast, fingers tweaking and rolling your nipple between them. then he starts fucking up into you. the first thrust is deep and powerful, hips snapping up so his cock drives into you harder, the angle perfect, the thick head rubbing right against that spongy spot inside you that makes your vision spark.
âthatâs it, baby,â he murmurs, voice wrecked but steady, focused entirely on you. âfeel good? tell me if itâs too much.â
he sets a rhythm, slow at first but building, each upward thrust meeting your downward grind, the wet slap of skin on skin growing louder. his arm around your hips keeps you steady, guiding you, while his fingers keep playing with your nipple, pinching and tugging just enough to send sparks straight to your clit. every time he bottoms out you whimper his name again, softer, breathier, your slick continuing to smear over his happy trail and the base of his cock, making everything messy and shiny.
satoruâs eyes never leave your face. he watches every twitch of your expression, every time your lips part on a moan, every time your eyes flutter. his whole focus is on you, on making sure every thrust feels perfect, on drawing out those little whispers of his name until they turn into broken cries. he fucks up into you with controlled power, the condom sliding slickly inside your soaked pussy, sweat mixing with the sharp smell of sex.
he leans forward slightly, mouth finding your other nipple again, sucking it into his mouth through the remnants of dried spit still on your skin, tongue swirling while he keeps thrusting. the dual sensation â his cock dragging inside you and his mouth on your breast â makes your back arch, a louder moan spilling out this time.
âgood girl,â he breathes against your wet skin, voice low and praising. âtaking me so well. just let me make you feel good, yeah? thatâs all i want.â
his hips keep snapping up, steady and deep, the arm around your waist holding you down so you take every inch while his fingers keep working your nipple and his mouth keeps sucking the other. the living room fills with the wet sounds of him fucking into you, your soft whispers of his name, and the heavy breathing of two people who have waited years for this exact moment.
satoru keeps that steady, deep rhythm, hips rolling up into you with controlled power while his mouth stays busy on your tits.
every upward thrust drags his thick, condom-covered cock along your walls, the head catching perfectly against that spot inside you that makes your toes curl. his arm around your waist holds you down on his cock, the wet slap of skin meeting skin growing louder, messier, your slick continuing to smear over his happy trail and the base of his cock until the dark hair glistens with it.
he switches between sucking one nipple and tweaking the other with his fingers, tongue swirling slow and wet, spit dripping down your chest in shiny trails that catch the flickering tv light.
youâre riding him but barely, your hips grinding in small, desperate circles while he does most of the work, fucking up into you with deep, purposeful strokes that make your breath hitch every single time he bottoms out. your hands clutch at his hoodie, nails digging into the fabric as soft, broken whispers of his name keep slipping out â âtoru⌠satoruâŚâ â the fruity scent of the condom mixes with the sharp smell of sex, filling the dark living room until itâs all you can breathe.
your legs start to twitch first. the muscles in your thighs quiver against his sides, small, uncontrollable tremors that travel down to your calves.
satoru notices immediately. his eyes flick down, watching the way your knees shake beside his hips, the subtle way your body is starting to tighten and flutter around him. a low, knowing hum vibrates in his chest and he shifts beneath you, sliding one arm under the knee closest to him. with a smooth, effortless motion he hooks it up and presses it toward your chest, folding you open even wider while youâre still on top of him.
the new angle spreads you so much more, your pussy stretching tighter around his cock, the head dragging harder against that perfect spot with every thrust.
you gasp sharply, the sound cracking in the back of your throat as the deeper penetration hits you all at once. satoruâs other arm stays banded around your waist, holding you steady, and now heâs fully in control even though youâre on top. he fucks up into you with stronger, deeper strokes, hips snapping with purpose, the wet squelch of your soaked pussy taking him echoing louder in the quiet room.
âcâmon, youâre gonna bless me, baby?â he murmurs against your neck, voice rough and focused. âcome on my cock, there you go. you just gotta feel it.â
your riding turns sloppy, hips stuttering as the pressure builds fast and overwhelming. your legs tremble harder, the one heâs holding to your chest shaking visibly. your walls start to flutter and clench around him in tight, rhythmic pulses, your slick gushing out around the base of his cock with every thrust. satoru groans low when he feels it, but he doesnât slow down. he keeps driving up into you, steady and relentless, the arm under your knee keeping you spread wide and open for him.
you come hard.
your whole body folds forward suddenly, chest pressing against his as a broken, whining cry tears from your throat, your mouth is open and breathing straight into his mouth. your pussy clamps down around his cock in strong, pulsing waves, gushing wet and hot around him even through the condom. tears slip down your flushed cheeks, eyes squeezing shut while you sob his name in soft, overwhelmed whimpers â âtoru⌠fuck, toruâŚâ â your hips jerking and twitching uncontrollably as the orgasm crashes through you.
satoru keeps fucking you through it, slower now but still deep, drawing out every pulse and every shaky sob. his hand on your waist rubs soothing circles while the other keeps your leg folded to your chest, holding you open so he can feel every flutter and gush. he presses soft kisses to your temple, your wet cheek, murmuring quiet praise against your skin as you tremble and cry in his lap, completely spent and folded against him.
tsatoru holds you close through the last trembling waves of your orgasm, his cock still buried deep inside your fluttering pussy. he presses gentle kisses to your damp temple then your flushed cheek, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back while you come down.
âiâm.. fuck, youâre so good to me.â the way he grunts those words out shows you heâs not done yet.
his grip tightens on your waist and under your knee, and he starts fucking up into you again â deeper than you thought was possible. each thrust is slow, powerful, and deliberate, driving his thick cock so far inside you that you swear you can feel him in your stomach.
the new angle has the head of his cock pressing right against that spot with every upward snap of his hips, stretching you open wider, filling you fuller than youâve ever been filled. the wet, filthy sounds of him plunging deep into your soaked pussy echo in the quiet living room, your slick leaking out around the base of his cock and dripping down his balls with every thrust.
âshit⌠so deep,â he groans against your ear, voice wrecked and low. âcan you feel me, baby? feel how deep iâm getting? thatâs it⌠take every inch.â
he fucks you with long, grinding strokes, hips rolling up hard and steady, the arm under your knee keeping you folded and spread so he can bury himself to the hilt every single time. your body jolts with each thrust, tits bouncing against his chest, soft cries and whimpers spilling from your mouth as the overstimulation turns into another building wave of pleasure.
satoruâs breathing grows ragged, his thrusts turning sharper, more desperate, the slap of skin on skin getting louder as he chases his own release.
âgonna come,â he pants, forehead pressed to yours, blue eyes dark and hazy. âgonna fill you up⌠fuck, you feel too good.â
he drives in deep one last time, hips stuttering as he buries himself as far as he can go.
âfuuuck,â a low, broken groan tears from his throat as he comes hard, cock pulsing thick and hot inside the condom while he grinds against you, drawing out every last spurt. his whole body trembles under you, arms locked tight around your frame as he empties himself, the strawberry-scented latex stretching with every heavy pulse.
for a long moment the only sounds are your shaky breathing and his quiet groans. he stays buried deep inside you, holding you close, the leg he had hooked to your chest gently lowered back down so you can relax against him. slowly, carefully, he pulls out, tying off the condom and setting it aside before he gathers you fully into his arms.
satoru shifts so youâre both lying on the couch, your smaller body draped over his chest, his hoodie soft against your bare skin. he pulls the blanket from the back of the couch (you didnât notice that was there from the beginning.) over both of you, tucking it gently around your shoulders. one hand strokes slow, soothing lines up and down your back, the other cradling the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair.
âyou okay?â he murmurs, voice soft and rough at the same time. he presses a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, then your lips â gentle, lingering kisses that feel like apologies and promises all at once. âdid i hurt you? was it too much?â
you shake your head against his chest, still catching your breath, and he hums in quiet relief. he keeps touching you. slow strokes along your spine, gentle kisses to your shoulder, his palm rubbing warm circles over your lower back where youâre still a little sore. every touch is careful, tender, like heâs trying to memorize the way you feel in his arms now that the line has finally been crossed.
and now that his time with you is very limited. by limited:
âyour brother told me to keep an eye on you,â the topic feels heavy already when he says it after a while, a small, tired smile tugging at his lips as he looks down at you. his fingers keep tracing lazy patterns on your skin. âif this is what it takes⌠so be it.â
so be the risk of making the person, his person whom he lovâ
realization hits and splashes on satoru like a bucket filled with water and ice. satoru loves. satoru loves you. he is in love, satoru loves someone who is a very much forbidden person.
he pulls you closer, wrapping both arms around you fully, the thought of your brother finding what he did to you can be stressed over for later, what matters now is your naked body tucked safely against his mostly-clothed one. the tv is still playing a new trailer for next movie faintly in the background, completely ignored.
satoru holds you like that for a long time â warm, steady, protective â pressing soft kisses to wherever his lips can reach, murmuring quiet praises and gentle nonsense until your breathing evens out and your eyes start to drift shut.
âtoru, do you think this is okay?â your voice is muffled with how youâre both tangled together. he doesnât reply at first so you take it as a sign to continue. âwhat are we gonna do after this? what if my brotââ
âiâve got you,â he cuts you off with a whisper against your hair, one last kiss pressed to the top of your head. âalways have and nothing will happen, just take some rest and weâll deal with it tomorrow.â
he can feel your body relaxing the moment he says that and satoru smiles a little, his heart swelling of fonding.
the living room feels smaller and warmer now, the weight of years of tension finally settling into something softer, something real, as satoru keeps holding you close under the blanket, his hand never stopping its gentle strokes along your back before he himself is dozing off from reality.
feeling too tired from his post nut session his brain is blank.
guys am i made for long fics or should i just stick to my regular short drabbles/blurbs? I WANT TO KNOW!
Simon has been eating the pussy for 30 minutes now, slow strokes with his tongue. He pulls back everytime he feels it twitch, not wanting it to cum just yet. The poor thing is even more swollen and puffy now, slick leaking down to somewhere he canât see.
Finally he presses two fingers inside and that must be enough because the cunt convulses around his digits, fluid dribbling around his fingers and he leans in to lick up the mess.
~
âFuck! Kyle!â His girlfriend whines, hips bucking against invisible forces as Simon makes her cum. Her nails digging into his arms as he hold her against him, knowing sheâll need the anchor.
âDoing so good dove.â He praises and kisses her temple.
~
As the pussy twitches, Simon attaches the disk to the fleshlight, needing a better grip for whatâs about to happen next. He pushes his chair back, undoing his sleep slacks and pulling it down just enough to release his cock.
It twitches in his hand as he smears the pre around his tip with his thumb. Heâs breathing heavily as the grabs the toy, rubbing the enter length of his cock against the pussy lips so the owner knows how big of a cock theyâre about to take.
Hissing, he presses the slightest bit in before pulling out, teasing himself as his cock slips out and ruts between the slick lips again. The next time he presses his tip against the entrance, he pushes deeper. Warmth and slick welcome him inside, milking him in deeper.
âSo fuckenâ tight.â He curses, holding onto the fleshlight in both hands, either to control how fast or slow he should go, heâs unsure.
He groans loudly, head rolling back as he pushes in deeper. The walls flutter around his shaft and his hips jerk at the sensation. Fuck itâs been too long. Heâs already made this cunt cum, now itâs his turn.
There no gentleness as he bounces the toy up and down his cock, going deeper and deeper inside with each thrust. Huffing, he grips the arm rest of his chair as his hips start meeting every downward stroke. All Simon can focus on is his pleasure as he gets off inside this pussy, a milking ring encompassing his girth. Itâs not long afterwards that he cums inside it, not caring if this could actually cause the pussy on the other side to be bred or not.
He slowly pulls out his slick cock, watching as a fat glob of his cum spits out of the used cunt as it clenches around nothing. He flicks it off, creamed pussy disappearing and heading to bed.
~
âGod Kyle- he-.â His girlfriend pants, body lax against his. âSo big⌠so much cumâŚâ She moans as he pulls off the portal panties.
He groans lowly as he sees the mess Simon left behind. âIâll get you cleaned up and make you cum one more time for being such a good girl for me and LT.â
Imagine alpha!ghost being the only one in your pack available to help you with your heat, right?
You have to take a break from blockers eventually, and it just so happens that ghost is the only one not on a mission, nest-trapped with a sprained wrist.
You...well, you think what anyone would think looking at ghost.
Giant of a guy, even by alpha standards, scent always a bit sour. You've never known ghost to be anything but rough, even in his pack affection. He scrubs a wrist into your neck instead of scenting properly, doesn't hesitate to scruff even gaz, or snap his teeth at price.
You expect pain, definitely. The sting of fangs across your skin and a knot forced too soon. An efficient heat, comfort not the focus.
Instead, you get...this.
"C'mon, lovie, it's okay." Ghost rumbles, deep and alpha-confident in the nest. You can't suppress the whine his rumble draws out, tucking closer to his neck. Ghosts scent is thick and warm, more intense than you've smelt before, nose pressed right against the glands.
One hand guides your hips over his cock, not controlling but supporting the movements you make. Allows you to set the pace with a shudder. You wonder if he's this nice with gaz or price, if he lets them cuddle up and ride until they beg for a knot. The thought of your packmates makes you whine more, and two thick arms wrap around to trap you against his body.
"Mmh, alright then? Had enough?" Ghost hums, not exactly to you, cloudy as you are. He holds you still and works his hips into you, rubbing all along the places that make you melt and purr. Ghosts own scent turns honey-sweet at the sound, and not long after he gives you your first knot of many.
Your heat is syrup melting into your mind. Ghost makes it sweet and warm, makes it so damn nice you mourn going back to the rough love he prefers. How an alpha like him can find any sort of softness is beyond you.
Still, you might have to switch out your blockers for more frequent breaks if this is what you're getting.
Soulhaven @secretriddlehaven - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
