[sinsbymoonlight]

yearning and yearning and yearning.

maeve ･｡ﾟ she/her ･｡ﾟ 23  //   MINORS DNI - 18+ CONTENT

please have your age in your bio !!

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[touyangel]

18+ content. minors, ageless, and blank blogs that interact with this will be blocked. i always check.

warnings: fem!reader, unprotected sex

“I like this view.”

Atsumu props his arms behind his head, and the way his biceps flex makes your jaw itch with the urge to bite. 

“You could help, you know.”

Sat pretty on his lap, your hands are splayed on the expanse of his chest, forcing your tits to smush together as you roll your hips as best you can. The head of his cock hits a spot that makes you shiver, and your voice goes a touch softer, quietly begging, “Please, help.”

“Mm, thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll stay put.” He muses, grinning slyly up at you.

Once it’s obvious he won’t be moving, your skirt a pair of fingers down to toy with your clit. Slick coats them when you start rubbing on it how you like, pussy clenching around him once, making his eyes dart down to between the both you, tongue snaking out to wet his bottom lip.

“Fuck.” He whispers.

You roll your eyes at him, biting back a smirk, muttering affectionately under your breath, “Fuckin’ pillow princess.”

“Hey! I deserve to be pampered once in a while, yer always takin’ it from me-” You shove the fingers that were on your clit into his mouth, and he chokes on the end of his sentence before he starts wiggling his tongue against the pads of them, giving himself a proper taste.

His eyes roll back into his head, and he speaks around your fingers even though you put them there to shut him up, “Case ‘ike or puthy.”

You giggle at him, still talking, like always. You retract your hand and ignore the string of saliva that follows, his drool making your skin glisten, “Hm?” You prompt.

“Tastes like yer pussy, shit, gimme more, please.” He swipes a hand from behind his head to start pawing at yours, bringing it closer to his mouth by your wrist, sucking your fingers back into his mouth desperately.

They’re nearly hitting the back of his throat when he starts fucking his hips up into you, taking you by surprise and making you gasp, but instinctively meeting him halfway by pushing your ass down. He uses both hands to grip each cheek, and finally, mercifully, he gives you what you want and fucks you how you asked. He could never say no to you for long.

It gets messy, his pounding, and there’s no preamble to his orgasm besides a few broken groans. His strokes stutter, and he cums in you, fingers burrowing into the fat of your ass, pulling your hips down to his own.

You only sit there, and let yourself feel it, pussy clenching around him involuntarily, growing desperate to cum along with him, the want sitting hot under your skin, scorching like you were thrown headfirst into fire. He composes himself and pushes you off with a whine, tossing you onto your back on the bed next to him and climbing over your body like an awoken beast, suddenly hungry in a way he wasn’t before.

Brown eyes roam over your skin, gaze heated, one big hand heavily palming it’s way from your throat all the way down your front, leaving goosebumps in its wake, not stopping until he’s cupping your pussy with it.

He smirks down at you when you keen for him, “Sorry, darlin’. I’ll put ma mouth to better use now.”

[devrimsigarasi-deactivated20200]

[shoujo-dreamland]

[kentoangel]

when men teach you how to do something as they stand behind you, it means they want to fuck.

miya osamu wants to make you his.

it’s oh so notable as he stands behind you in onigiri miya — his arms wrapped around you to show you how to mold the rice, his words rough around the edges in your ear.

“yeah, like that — good girl.”

maybe you want to fuck him, too.

[thenapaay]

Anasui sketches + jolysui

[bunnywritings]

Birthday | Jolyne Cujoh/Reader/Ermes Costello

Summary: Jolyne and Ermes want to make your birthday one you will never forget.

Rating: Explicit

Words: 1998

Warnings: None

Notes: This was inspired by a request an anon sent. I wrote it in one sitting, so let me know if there are any issues.

Read it here on AO3!

Birthdays can be difficult when you're away at college. Being an out-of-state student meant that you wouldn't get to celebrate the occasion with your family, as you did almost every year. The fact that you wouldn't get to taste one of your mother's homemade birthday cakes this year, or hear your siblings sing to you off-key as you blew out your candles left you feeling quite depressed. You tried not to make it too obvious, but your girlfriends Jolyne and Ermes could tell that something was wrong.

On the day of your birthday, you woke up to a text from Jolyne. It was normal for the two of them to send you a good-morning text, but this message was different.

"Check your front door," it said, followed by a winking emoji.

Confused, you pulled on your slippers and sleepily made your way to the door. When you opened it, you noticed a box with your name on it. It was wrapped with paper in your favorite color, complete with a bow on the top.

You pulled it inside and unwrapped it, hesitantly opening the box. Jolyne and Ermes were known for their pranks, and you weren't entirely convinced that there wouldn't be a glitter bomb or something of that nature inside.

Your worries dissipated when you pulled out the contents of the box. Inside was a beautiful dress from your favorite boutique, along with a pair of low-heeled shoes. You felt heat rush to your cheeks as you noticed some items that were hiding underneath the dress; they had also included a set of matching lingerie. You knew that the ensemble must have been expensive, and you knew that the next time you saw Jolyne and Ermes, you would chide them for spending so much money on you.

You heard your phone buzz, and when you unlocked it, you noticed that you had a new text from Ermes.

"Come over to our apartment at 5:00 tonight," it read. "And wear the outfit we got you."

It seemed that your birthday wasn't going to be as uneventful as you thought.

Jolyne and Ermes lived in a shared apartment, while you lived in the college dorms. The two of them had already been dating before you entered the relationship, and were in a grade above you. Ermes was in the culinary program, while Jolyne was an art student. You were a sophomore, studying biology, while they were juniors. You had transferred over to the college earlier in the year, and didn't know anyone at your new school. Jolyne and Ermes noticed you sitting alone at a nearby café one afternoon and decided to strike up a conversation. The three of you hit it off right away, and it didn't take long for them to ask you out.

By now, the three of you had been dating for about six months, but it felt as if you had known them your whole lives. You all got along perfectly, and had many interests in common. You had always dreamed of having a girlfriend as wonderful as the two of them, and you were lucky enough to have them both instead of just one.

You spent most of your birthday lying in bed in your pajamas, watching videos on your phone. Every so often you would check the time, growing more and more excited as the hours ticked by. You couldn't wait to see what Jolyne and Ermes had planned for you that evening.

Eventually, the time came for you to get ready to leave. You did hair and makeup, choosing colors that would compliment the dress they had picked out. After you put on the outfit, you looked in the mirror; the dress was a bit more revealing than you had realized at first, but you didn't mind. You knew that Jolyne and Ermes liked seeing you in outfits that showed a bit of skin.

Once you felt you were ready, you drove over to their apartment building, parking in your usual spot. As soon as you opened the door, you froze; the apartment was decorated with balloons and streamers, with a huge banner hanging in doorway to the kitchen. You felt affection swell in your heart as you realized that they had painted it themselves.

"Surprise!" Jolyne screamed, jumping out from behind a corner. You were startled, but your fear-stricken expression soon turned to one of joy as you began to laugh. Ermes, having heard the commotion, strolled out of the kitchen, holding boxes of food. She had ordered takeout from your favorite restaurant.

Once she placed the boxes on the coffee table in the living room, she turned to you with a grin on her face. Upon noticing your outfit, she wolf-whistled.

"Happy birthday!" she said, pulling you into a tight hug. "You look amazing."

Jolyne nodded in agreement before grabbing your hand and pulling you to the table.

Once dinner was over, Ermes got up to get something. "Wait here," she said, walking back towards the kitchen. Jolyne gave her a knowing look before glancing back over at you.

"We were going to make dinner ourselves, but she had a better idea," Jolyne said. "She's been hard at work in the kitchen all afternoon."

Before you could ask what she meant, Ermes had arrived back at the table. In her hands was a birthday cake, beautifully frosted and adorned with candles. As she placed it on the table, Jolyne began to sing. It wasn't long before Ermes joined in, laughing at Jolyne's enthusiasm.

"Happy birthday to you," they finished, before shouting in unison, "Now make a wish!"

It took you a second to think of a wish, but once you came up with a good one, you blew out the candles.

Each of you had a slice, and once you all were finished eating, the three of you fell into a comfortable silence. The radio was on in the background, and you listened to the music it was playing. After a while, a rather suggestive pop song came on. This seemed to snap your girlfriends out of their peaceful reverie, because Ermes got up and quickly went into another room.

"Oh, that's right. I almost forgot, we had planned something else for you," Jolyne said, smirking. You raised an eyebrow as she got up from her seat and walked over to you, swaying her hips. She pulled you out of your seat and into her arms, planting a kiss on your lips.

The two of you stood there, swaying to the music, before Ermes called both of your names. Jolyne began to lead you to the bedroom, and you noticed that there was a trail of rose petals leading the way.

As soon as you stepped foot in the bedroom, you froze. There was Ermes, standing there in only a bra and panties. That wasn't the only thing you noticed, however; as you looked her up and down, you saw that there was a sparkly green dildo strapped to her pelvis. You audibly gulped as you took in the size of the thing; you figured it was at least seven inches long, if not bigger.

Ermes laughed, and Jolyne got to work, quickly undressing herself before turning back to you. She kissed you again as she reached behind you, pulling down the zipper of your dress. It fell to your feet, and you gingerly stepped out of it, shivering as the cool air hit your skin.

Jolyne picked you up in her arms and gently tossed you onto the bed. You always forgot how strong she was; her hobby of lifting weights had given her some very impressive strength.

She got on the bed and began to kiss you once again, sliding her tongue into your mouth. As your tongue slid against hers, you felt the bed dip as Ermes climbed onto it from the other side. You felt her heavy gaze as Jolyne slid her fingers into the waistband of your panties, sliding them down your legs.

Jolyne laughed as her fingers touched your slit. "You're already this wet, just from me kissing you?"

You shyly looked away, and Jolyne slid her fingers into you, her thumb rubbing circles around your clit. She started with one finger, shallowly thrusting it in and out before adding another. Before long, she had four fingers inside of you, and you squirmed impatiently, already wanting more.

Ermes took notice of this and tapped Jolyne's shoulder. She pulled her fingers out of you and licked the wetness off of them. Ermes hovered over you, the tip of her strap-on nudging your clit, and you shifted your hips to grind down on it. Ermes watched as you pathetically ground against the dildo, whining in frustration.

"What, you want me to fuck you?" Ermes said, grinning sadistically. "You're going to have to beg."

You groaned, embarrassed by the demand. Still, you knew she wouldn't budge until you did as she told you.

"P-please, Ermes, fuck me already! I need you," you muttered, unable to meet her gaze.

She grabbed your chin, forcing you to make eye contact with her. "What was that?" she said, a shit-eating grin on her face. "I can't hear you when you mumble."

You sighed before voicing your request again, this time a bit louder. "Ermes, come on, just fuck me already! Please, I need it."

As if on cue, she slid the dildo inside of you, sheathing it to the hilt. Her pelvis was flush against yours, and you swore you could see the outline of the strap-on in your lower belly.

After giving you a moment to adjust, she began to thrust into you at a punishing pace. You squealed, scrambling to clutch at her shoulders. You could hear Jolyne fingering herself behind you, clearly enjoying the show.

As Ermes slid the dildo in and out of you, she reached down to pinch your clit. Every time she pulled the dildo out of you, she would rub your clit, before thrusting back inside.

It only took a few minutes of this before you felt your orgasm approaching. You began to lift your hips to meet each of Ermes's thrusts, and, knowing you were about to come, Ermes stopped.

You whined again, wildly bucking your hips. Ermes held you down, smiling deceptively. You knew what she wanted.

"I know you want to come," she said, still sheathed inside of you. "Come on, beg for it. Tell me how much you want to come."

You felt tears pricking in your eyes. It felt humiliating to have to beg, but you could also feel yourself growing wetter at the thought of it.

"P-please, Ermes," you stuttered, tears now streaming down your cheeks. "Let me come, I've been g-good."

"Are you sure you deserve it?" she said, flicking your clit.

"Yes, yes, I do!" you said, your hips jolting into her hand.

She chuckled, before thrusting into you once, twice, then three times. Your vision went white as you came hard, clenching around the toy. Ermes continued to fuck you through your orgasm, only stopping once your legs had stopped twitching. She then stopped moving, staying still for a moment before sliding the strap-on out of you.

Jolyne placed a pillow under your head, and you collapsed onto it, breathing heavily. She laid down next to you, pulling you into your arms. Ermes removed the strap-on harness and climbed into bed behind you, nuzzling her face in your neck. You laid in silence with your girlfriends for what felt like an eternity before one of them finally spoke.

"What did you wish for earlier?" Jolyne asked softly, looking into your eyes.

It took you a moment to remember, still tired from the harsh fucking you were just given. "I wished for us to have many more years together," you said with a yawn.

Ermes laughed, placing a kiss on your neck. "I would have wished for the same thing. Happy birthday, babe."

[gyroist]

HANDS. — johnny joestar

— johnny’s noticed you’ve taken a liking to his hands….

↺ feat. johnny joestar x afab!reader ↺ trigger/content warnings. smut ; afab!reader, sub!reader fingering, light praising, readers obsessed with johnny’s hands lol ↺ word count.  736 ↺ note. johnny’s on the brain again 🎶🎶 i have a thing for hands, sorry y’all. 

masterlist

Keep reading

[estrogirl]

i would NEVER have a praise kink… the fact i moaned when you caressed my cheek and said i was such a good girl is just a coincidence. i just felt like doing that

[mimamaria]

I’m sorry (I’m not)

[sinsbymoonlight]

please please please put your age in your bio if you’re going to follow me !!!!!!!!!!! i don’t just put that in my about page for shits and giggles

[sinsbymoonlight]

MINORS DNI - 18+

praise kink, gender neutral reader, use of pretty boy, good boy, bottom!gojo, slightly dominant reader

Your hand cups his jaw, thumb brushing over the skin of his cheek as your fingers just barely graze the hair by his ear. Your other hand travels down, down, and just when Satoru thinks you’ll finally release him from the confines of his jeans, your fingers slip beneath his shirt, tracing absent patterns on his stomach. He bites his lips to suppress the pathetic whimper that threatens to slip from between them.

He’s surrounded by you, and yet he’s never felt so needy. He wants more, always wants more when it comes to you. Satoru is a man starved and he’s certain he will never be satiated.

Your lips, your distractingly soft lips, presses kisses along his jaw, down the column of his throat and back again. You stop to land a teasing smirk against the spot that always makes him moan before you nibble it slightly, sucking a mark into the skin there.

A strangled whine leaves his mouth before he can stop it.

You chuckle before bringing your lips to his ear, so close he can feel your breath fanning over him. “You’re so pretty like this, ‘toru,” you croon, voice dipping into a purr as you continue. “I want to ruin you.” 

The fingers at your waist squeeze, a reflexive motion of his fingers as his jeans tighten. Satoru doesn’t think he’s ever felt this desperate in his life. You’ve brought the strongest jujutsu sorcerer to his knees, rendered him nothing but a whimpering mess as he cants his hips up into yours to relish in the friction.

There’s a hint of teasing to your tone as your fingers dip slightly the waistline of his pants. Close, so close, but not enough. “You like it when I tell you how pretty you are, huh?” The hand cupping his jaw moves to tilt his chin back, and Satoru’s eyes finally meet yours. “Tell me.”

His breath hitches, words caught in his throat as you grind your hips down into his. “I-” 

You plant slow, wet kisses to his jaw, your fingers inching closer to his aching dick as you eagerly await his reply.

“Yes. Please.”

Satoru doesn’t know what he’s begging for, too lost in the feeling of your body against his and the sound of your voice in his ear to form any coherent thought. He wants something, anything, to break the tension that’s been building in the pit of his stomach ever since you hooked your leg over his lap and started kissing him.

At his admission, you drag his lips to yours in a heated kiss, and he whines into your mouth, his hands gripping the curve of your ass to pull you down further onto his lap. The kiss ends almost as quickly as it starts, and Satoru chases your lips.

Before he can capture you in another kiss, you lean away, a loving smile on your face, but a mischievous glimmer in your eye as you praise him. “Good boy.”

He traps the fabric of your shirt in a vice grip as his hips meet yours, his eyes rolling back and his chin tipping back towards the ceiling as he groans, cumming right in his pants, virtually untouched.

The room falls silent and Satoru’s face burns. God, he feels like a fucking teenager. Before the embarrassment can linger, your hand loops around to the nape of his neck and you drag his lips to yours, and before you kiss him, you mutter, “Let’s see if we can do that again.”

You were going to ruin him — mind, body, and soul — and Satoru was going to let you.

[sinsbymoonlight]

MINORS DNI - 18+

praise kink, gender neutral reader, use of pretty boy, good boy, bottom!gojo, slightly dominant reader

Your hand cups his jaw, thumb brushing over the skin of his cheek as your fingers just barely graze the hair by his ear. Your other hand travels down, down, and just when Satoru thinks you’ll finally release him from the confines of his jeans, your fingers slip beneath his shirt, tracing absent patterns on his stomach. He bites his lips to suppress the pathetic whimper that threatens to slip from between them.

He’s surrounded by you, and yet he’s never felt so needy. He wants more, always wants more when it comes to you. Satoru is a man starved and he’s certain he will never be satiated.

Your lips, your distractingly soft lips, presses kisses along his jaw, down the column of his throat and back again. You stop to land a teasing smirk against the spot that always makes him moan before you nibble it slightly, sucking a mark into the skin there.

A strangled whine leaves his mouth before he can stop it.

You chuckle before bringing your lips to his ear, so close he can feel your breath fanning over him. “You’re so pretty like this, ‘toru,” you croon, voice dipping into a purr as you continue. “I want to ruin you.” 

The fingers at your waist squeeze, a reflexive motion of his fingers as his jeans tighten. Satoru doesn’t think he’s ever felt this desperate in his life. You’ve brought the strongest jujutsu sorcerer to his knees, rendered him nothing but a whimpering mess as he cants his hips up into yours to relish in the friction.

There’s a hint of teasing to your tone as your fingers dip slightly the waistline of his pants. Close, so close, but not enough. “You like it when I tell you how pretty you are, huh?” The hand cupping his jaw moves to tilt his chin back, and Satoru’s eyes finally meet yours. “Tell me.”

His breath hitches, words caught in his throat as you grind your hips down into his. “I-” 

You plant slow, wet kisses to his jaw, your fingers inching closer to his aching dick as you eagerly await his reply.

“Yes. Please.”

Satoru doesn’t know what he’s begging for, too lost in the feeling of your body against his and the sound of your voice in his ear to form any coherent thought. He wants something, anything, to break the tension that’s been building in the pit of his stomach ever since you hooked your leg over his lap and started kissing him.

At his admission, you drag his lips to yours in a heated kiss, and he whines into your mouth, his hands gripping the curve of your ass to pull you down further onto his lap. The kiss ends almost as quickly as it starts, and Satoru chases your lips.

Before he can capture you in another kiss, you lean away, a loving smile on your face, but a mischievous glimmer in your eye as you praise him. “Good boy.”

He traps the fabric of your shirt in a vice grip as his hips meet yours, his eyes rolling back and his chin tipping back towards the ceiling as he groans, cumming right in his pants, virtually untouched.

The room falls silent and Satoru’s face burns. God, he feels like a fucking teenager. Before the embarrassment can linger, your hand loops around to the nape of his neck and you drag his lips to yours, and before you kiss him, you mutter, “Let’s see if we can do that again.”

You were going to ruin him — mind, body, and soul — and Satoru was going to let you.

[sinsbymoonlight]

18+ - MINORS DNI

fem!reader

You don’t know how Abbacchio always manages to rope you into his little schemes, dragging you off to steal a kiss, or more, behind closed doors and down darkened hallways when you should be socializing. The man was too pretty, and too persuasive, for his own good though, and that’s how you find yourself in the bathroom down the hall, a holiday party in full swing just a few feet away.

He’s quick to crowd your space the moment the door closes, fingers finding purchase on your hips, lips skirting over any bit of skin he can reach. Through the door, you can hear the muffled tune of an old Christmas song, and you pray no one can hear what you’re doing.

Abbacchio’s breath is hot on your neck as he creates a trail of wet kisses along the skin there. Between kisses, he pleads, “Amore mio, please.”

Your breath stutters in your throat. “Leone,” you sound pathetic as you whine, nice and low, your fingers gripping his shoulders in a feeble attempt at steadying yourself. “We can’t.”

He pushes you against the counter with practiced ease, his hands already moving to untuck your shirt. He feels your smooth, bare skin beneath his fingertips and lets out a breathy groan. “Five minutes,” he offers, “please, amore.”

Your mouth opens to object, to remind him you were supposed to be celebrating with the others, but your words get caught in your throat when he utters a quiet, “I need you.”

The desperate lilt to his tone and the feeling of his skin against yours stirs something deep in the pit of your stomach, and you drag him up by the neck to pull him into a feverish, open-mouthed kiss. Your fingers get lost in his hair and his thigh slots between your legs, bumping against your core. You moan into his mouth then, and he can’t help but tighten his hold on your hips, bringing them forward to keep you grinding on his leg.

Abbacchio smirks against your lips when the friction pulls another cute little whine from your throat. As one hand focuses on the slow drag of your hips, the other comes up to your cheek, his thumb ghosting over your kiss-swollen lips.

You’re breathless when you warn him, “Five minutes.”

His smirk only seems to widen, his hands already moving to tug your shirt over your head as he mumbles, “That’s my girl.”

[sinsbymoonlight]

i promise i haven’t abandoned this blog lmao

[cyancherub]

u better put that age in ur mf bio or so help me

[shibaraki]

Take a seat

tags: minors dni, afab!reader, established relationship, sports related injuries, face sitting, oral sex (f!receiving), use of the petname "baby", coming untouched, no power dynamics

As Bokuto pries opens his eyes, his first thought is warm, and his second is pain. He’s still laid stretched across the sofa, having parked himself there hours ago in a sulk, and the sun is no longer flooding through the gap in the curtains.

Dutifully ignoring the soreness in his ankle, his hearing sharpens at the sound of movement in the kitchen, and he remembers that you had texted him that morning with the promise to visit. You must’ve covered him with the blanket, too.

“Bo, you up?”

Your voice is gentle, cautious, like you were soothing a wounded animal. And he was — wounded, that is. Shame twists in his chest at the reminder of his injury, of how he embarrassed the team and lost them the set. That shame is what has him shutting his eyes again, afraid to see the sympathy behind yours.

In the darkness he feels your warm body settle on the floor beside him. The soft pad of your index finger runs along the line of his nose and down his cheeks, a quiet sigh following the motion.

“I know you’re awake,” you murmur, and his groan is immediate. He lifts his arm and hides his face into the crook of his elbow, peering at you from beneath. You’re smiling gently, already clad in one of his shirts, presumably wearing the sleep shorts you’d left for staying overnight underneath it.

“Baby, I don’t want you to see me like this,” he mutters petulantly.

“That’s too bad, because I want to take care of you,” you reply, noticing his wince as he shifts his too-big body on the couch.

“Let me get your painkillers”.

“Don’t need them,” he sniffs, yet sits up slowly to take them anyway. He bites back a curse at the sight of his still swollen ankle, prominently larger than the other and wrapped tightly with a pack of ice resting on it that has now grown warm.

“You do need them,”— he holds out an open hand and you press two small pills into his palm, passing him a glass of water as he takes them into his mouth — “the sooner you recover the sooner you can get back on the court”.

“Thank you,” he rasps defeatedly, eyes lowered and his demeanour wilted. You hum an affirmative, threading your fingers through his hair and cradling the back of his head once he leans into the touch, his forehead nestled against your stomach.

“Talk to me baby,” you murmur as his hands slide up the back of your legs with fingers sinking into your plush thighs, “what can I do to make you feel better?”

The words barely register to Bokuto, far too lost in the rhythm of your fingers in his hair, in how malleable you are in his hands, how you must have showered and used his body wash before waking him. He lifts his head to prop his chin against your sternum, his face resting beneath your breasts, eyes bright and dilated.

He slips his fingers beneath your shorts, taking two handfuls of your ass and lightly squeezing as he says, “I’ll feel better if you sit on my face”.

“Bo, your injury—”

“—is on my ankle,” he interrupts with his lower lip jutted into a pout, “just want a distraction baby. I need you”.

He sees the moment your resolve crumbles. You nod with a sigh in exasperation and sink your teeth into your bottom lip, expression one of cautious excitement.

He grins, the corners of his mouth pushing into his cheeks and revealing his dimples. You step back to accommodate his body as he begins to shuffle his hips down from the sofa onto the floor, before he leans his head back over the edge of the seat cushions and beckons you to him.

“C’mere,” he breathes, eyes half lidded with veiled hunger.

“What if I fall back?”

“I’ll hold you up,” he replies, and at your apprehensive frown he adds, “it’ll be fine baby, I can bench press your weight easy!”

“You promise to tell me if you’re in pain?”

“Yes,” he whines with faux exasperation as he pulls your right leg over his hips so your feet are positioned either side of him, expression settling into something serious before continuing, “if you don’t sit on my face soon I think I might die”.

You laugh and he basks in it, guiding you to bend your knees upon the sofa cushion either side of his head and cupping the back of your thighs for support. Exhaling shakily, you shift and spread your legs a little wider, tightly gripping the back of the sofa for balance.

He realizes then that you’re still holding tension in your glutes, keeping yourself up to hover over him, and so pulls your full weight back unceremoniously onto his face. You hiss his name, a startled chastise that dissolves into a stutter as his nose presses against your clit.

Though still clothed, even just the warmth of your cunt against his mouth has the stress seeping from his muscles, the pain and humiliation of his injury already forgotten. He hums, pleased, though briefly mourning the fact that you had already showered. Your scent was tantalising, so distinctly you, and he loved it — but it didn’t hold a candle to how you tasted.

He hooks a thumb into the crotch of your undershorts, pulling it to the side in a slow, teasing manner. Using his other hand he gently pulls the folds of your pussy apart, tilting his chin up to press a kiss to your clit.

“Got the sweetest pussy,” he breathes, his lips shaping the words against you. With the flat of his tongue he licks a broad stripe across your sex, his biceps flexing beneath your movement as you rut down into his mouth.

You whine his name and his cock throbs, hot and heavy against his thigh, straining in his sweats. His tongue traces through your folds, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with the rock of your body, the taste of you coating his tongue.

It doesn’t get any better than this, he thinks, using his good foot to leverage himself and rolling his own hips upward for some semblance of friction. Every moan is met with a groan of his own, his fingers curled desperately into the fat of your ass as he tries to encourage you to move faster.

His tongue circles your clit, soft and light, again and again until your thighs are clamped either side of his head. He falls into a steady pattern, switching from teasing licks to sucking you between his lips, his tongue occasionally slipping inside you, tense and eagerly thrusting.

You shake above him, your breaths becoming laborious and the gyration of your hips growing sloppy — a short, quick, rutting motion against his tongue, like you were chasing the sensation. The material of his sweats pulls tight against his cock and he circles his own hips against the air, concentrating his attention on your clit with a fast flicking motion of his tongue.

“Shit—” he can barely hear you, ears muffled by your soft thighs, his eyes roll heavily into the back of his head as they begin to seize “—Bo, m’gonna cum!”

He can’t help but moan alongside you as he attempts to keep the rhythm, his legs tensing and kicking out from beneath him. With a sharp inhale, a sob caught in the back of your throat, you cum against his tongue and he devours you.

The shock of your orgasm washes over you as your hips begin to roll again, rising and falling with the waves, and each time you lower yourself Bokuto waits happily to kiss your fluttering pussy.

Eventually, following a drawn out exhale, you shakily lower yourself back down his body with the support of his arms. Before you are even straddling his lap you’ve taken his cheeks into your hands, pulling him in for a wet kiss, his cheeks and chin still coated in your slick.

He wraps his arm around the small of your back, pressing your chests together, smiling into the kiss at the sound of your pleased hum. Your hand cascades down the length of his torso teasingly, reaching between your bodies to slide over the sodden material of his sweats.

You hastily pull away from the kiss, ignoring his whine of protest, and look down at his lap.

“Bo, you…” His gaze follows yours to the spreading dampness of his pants, then meeting your eyes with a sheepish grin.

“Yeah,” he murmurs affectionately, “see what you did baby? Made me cum in my pants like a teenager”.

“Fuck,” is your succinct reply, your expression warming with obvious pride and hunger. He swipes his tongue across his lower lip then, and finds he can still taste you.

“Want to?” He grins, rutting his hips up playfully and bouncing you in his lap, laughing at your startled yelp as your nails find purchase in the skin of his shoulders.

You glare at him, but there’s no heat behind it, instead fighting a smile of your own. With a quick look over your shoulder toward his bandaged ankle, you give a faint nod.

“Yeah, want to,” you press a chaste kiss to his lips, “but I’m doing all the work”.

He snorts and manoeuvres himself so he can lie on his back, his hands keeping you anchored in his lap.

“Won’t hear any complaints from me”.