Discover Top Posts Tagged with #cupidboww

LOOK AT YOU, MAKING A MESS - Osamu Miya

18+ Osamu Miya has been fucking you for hours, and this man is still rock hard and greedy.

cw: overstimulation, multiple orgasms, creampie, oral sex, messy sex, dirty talk, loud sex, mild dominance, consensual rough sex.

note: PRAISING YES PLS!!!!!!!

The room was thick with the scent of sweat and sex, the air heavy and humid from how long you two had been at it. Osamu Miya had you pinned beneath him on the bed, his dark hair clung to his forehead, damp with effort, and his gray eyes were locked on your face like he was memorizing every twitch and gasp you made. Your legs were trembling uncontrollably around his waist, muscles burning from being spread so wide for so long. You’d lost count of how many times he’d made you cum—three? Four? Five?—but your body was a slick, oversensitive mess, pussy swollen and dripping around his thick cock as he kept thrusting deep and steady.

“Fuck, look at ya,” Osamu groaned, voice low and rough, a smirk tugging at his lips as he glanced down between your bodies. “Makin’ such a mess all over me. Soakin’ my cock, the sheets… yer drippin’ everywhere, baby.”

He punctuated the words with a particularly deep thrust, the wet, sloppy sound of your pussy taking every inch of him echoing obscenely through the room. You cried out, a high-pitched whine that broke into a moan as pleasure punched through your exhausted body again. Your walls fluttered and clenched around him, another orgasm threatening even though you felt wrecked.

“Samu—ahh—too much,” you whimpered, but your hips still rolled up to meet him, greedy despite the shaking in your thighs.

He chuckled darkly, leaning down so his chest pressed against your breasts, lips brushing your ear. “Yeah? But yer still takin’ me so well. Been fuckin’ this pretty pussy fer ages and yer still squeezin’ me like ya want more.” His breath was hot against your skin. “Want me to clean it off ya?”

You nodded frantically, barely able to form words. “Please… yes…”

Osamu let out a soft, amused laugh. He pushed his hair back from his face with one hand, the motion flexing the muscles in his arm, then slowly pulled out of you with a lewd, wet pop. You whimpered at the sudden emptiness, your pussy clenching around nothing. He slid down the bed, dropping to his knees on the floor and yanking your hips to the edge with a firm grip on your thighs. He spread you open wider, staring hungrily at your glistening, puffy folds.

“So messy,” he murmured, almost reverent, before diving in.

His tongue dragged through your soaked slit in one long, firm stroke, collecting your combined juices. You yelped sharply at the intense sensation on your oversensitive clit, back arching off the bed. Osamu’s hands tightened on your thighs, fingers digging in hard as he held you in place.

“Shh, baby,” he mumbled against your pussy, the vibration making you jolt. “I’m just cleanin’ ya up like ya wanted. Such a messy girl fer me… lettin’ me fuck ya this long and still creamin’ all over everything.” He sucked your clit into his mouth, tongue flicking rapidly, then lapped lower to push inside you, drinking down every drop. The wet, filthy sounds of his mouth working you over filled the room—obscene slurps and swallows mixed with your broken whimpers and moans.

Every little touch sent sparks shooting up your spine. You tried to squirm, but he held you firm, devouring you like he was starving. “Osamu—fuck—your mouth… ahhn!” Your hands flew to his hair, tugging as another wave of pleasure crashed over you, smaller but no less intense after so many before.

He groaned into you, the sound vibrating through your core. After several long, thorough minutes of sucking and licking you clean, he finally pulled back. His face was shiny and wet, lips swollen and glistening with your arousal. He wiped it off casually with the back of his hand, licking his lips afterward with a satisfied hum.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he said, voice husky as he stood up, stroking his still-hard cock slowly. It glistened with your juices. “Think ya can handle one more?”

You nodded, eyes fluttering shut as you braced for it, body already buzzing in anticipation.

A gentle but firm hand gripped your chin, tilting your face up. “Eyes on me,” Osamu commanded softly. “Want ya watchin’ when I fill ya up again.”

You obeyed, locking gazes with him. He positioned himself at your entrance and pushed in slowly, inch by thick inch. The stretch was delicious even after everything, your walls fluttering around him as he sank deeper. You both moaned in unison—his low and guttural, yours high and needy.

“Shit… how is yer pussy still this tight?” Osamu groaned, eyes half-lidded as he bottomed out, hips flush against yours. “Fuckkkkk, yeah baby… that feels so good.”

He started moving, building up a steady rhythm that quickly turned punishing. His hips snapped forward, the wet slap of skin on skin loud and rhythmic. Every thrust dragged against that perfect spot inside you, making you see stars behind your eyelids. Your legs shook violently around him, toes curling as pleasure overwhelmed you again.

“Osamu—oh fuck—right there,” you gasped, nails digging into his shoulders.

His moans grew louder, unrestrained groans spilling from his throat with every deep plunge. “Fuck, ya feel incredible… takin’ me so deep… gonna make ya cum again, yeah? Want ya creamin’ on my cock one more time.”

The sounds he was making were getting dangerously loud—raw, animalistic grunts and long, filthy moans that echoed off the walls. Between desperate thrusts, you managed to whimper out a warning, voice hoarse.

“Samu—someone’s gonna hear you—ahh—fuck, quieter—”

He smirked down at you, not slowing down even a little. Instead, he leaned closer, pounding harder as if daring anyone to listen. “Let ‘em hear,” he growled, voice breaking into another groan as your pussy clenched around him. “Let ‘em know how good I’m fuckin’ ya. How many times I’ve made this pretty pussy cum tonight.”

One of his hands slid down to rub tight circles on your clit, and that was it. Your orgasm hit hard, ripping through your exhausted body like lightning. You cried out, back bowing, walls pulsing and gushing around his cock. Osamu cursed loudly, hips stuttering as he chased his own release, burying himself deep and grinding against you while you milked him.

“Fuck—yes, just like that—good girl,” he panted, riding out your climax with shallow thrusts before finally stilling, spilling hot inside you with a long, satisfied groan.

He collapsed over you carefully, both of you breathing hard, bodies slick and trembling. Osamu pressed lazy kisses to your neck, murmuring softly, “You did so good for me, baby. So fuckin’ perfect.” His hand stroked soothingly over your shaking thighs as you both came down.

ASS TATTOO - Yuji Itadori

18+ Your boyfriend Yuji is obsessed with your ass tattoo.

cw : Rough/kitchen sex, spanking & biting, ass worship & marking, dirty talk.

note: I am officially back after finals!!!

Yuji stumbled through the front door just past dawn, the morning light filtering through the kitchen windows. His mission had dragged on longer than expected, but the second he stepped inside and caught sight of you, every ounce of exhaustion vanished. There you were, humming quietly while flipping pancakes at the stove, wearing nothing but a thin tank top that clung to your breasts—nipples faintly visible through the fabric, making them look so fucking delicious—and those cheeky panties that barely covered anything. The curve of your ass was on full display, and right there, peeking teasingly from the edge of the fabric, was your ass tattoo. That little design that drove him absolutely feral.

His knees nearly buckled. “Holy shit…” he muttered under his breath, cock already twitching to life in his pants. He loved that tattoo more than he could admit out loud. It made your ass look like it was begging to be claimed, bitten, fucked, and covered. He’d lie if he said the sight of it peeking out from your panties around the house didn’t get him rock hard on a daily basis.

You hadn’t noticed him yet. Yuji moved like a predator, quiet and hungry, dropping his bag by the door and crossing the kitchen in seconds. He fell to his knees right behind you, hands gripping your hips as he pressed his face straight into your ass, nose buried against the warm fabric covering your pussy.

You gasped, nearly dropping the spatula. “Yuji! Baby, you’re home—mmph, what are you doing?”

He inhaled deeply, groaning at your scent. “Shhh, mhpmm babe,” he mumbled against you, the vibration sending shivers up your spine. His tongue dragged slowly over the thin fabric, licking a wet stripe right over your covered folds. “Missed this pussy so fucking bad… and this ass. Fuck, look at you cooking for me like this. Such a good girl.”

You giggled breathlessly, gripping the counter. “It went okay? The mission? Yuji—ah!”

He shushed you again, biting down gently on one cheek, his strong arms locking around your thighs so you couldn’t squirm away. “Don’t care about the mission right now. Just need you.” His teeth sank a little harder into the soft flesh, then he tugged your panties higher up, wedging them between your cheeks so the tattoo was fully exposed. He kissed it reverently at first, then licked over the ink with a filthy moan. “Fuck, I love this tattoo. Makes your ass look so slutty for me. Been thinking about it the whole way home.”

You moaned, arching your back and pushing your ass back against his face. “Yuji… you’re so horny in the morning…”

“Only for this ass,” he growled. One hand slid between your legs, rubbing firm circles over your pussy through the soaked panties while his mouth devoured the tattooed cheek—kissing, licking, then biting hard enough to make you yelp. “Mmm, yeah? You like when I get like this? Filthy for my girl’s perfect ass?”

He yanked your panties down roughly, letting them drop to your ankles. Two thick fingers plunged into your dripping cunt without warning, curling instantly against that spot that made your toes curl. At the same time, his mouth latched onto your ass again, sucking and biting while his free hand slapped the other cheek, watching it jiggle.

“Fuck—yes!” you cried out, pushing back onto his fingers. The kitchen filled with the wet sounds of him fingering you and the obscene smacks of his palm on your skin.

Yuji pulled back just enough to admire his work—your ass already marked with red bites and handprints, the tattoo glistening with his spit. “So pretty when it’s red like this. All mine.” He stood up suddenly, spinning you around just enough to kiss you hungrily, his tongue invading your mouth while his fingers kept pumping inside you. Then he bent you back over the counter, your tits pressing against the cool surface through your tank top.

You heard his belt and zipper, then the heavy slap of his thick cock against your ass. He stroked himself slowly, rubbing the fat head up and down your soaked slit. “Gonna fuck you so good, baby. Need to watch that tattoo bounce on my cock.”

He pushed in with one long thrust, stretching you open. “Fuuuuckkkkk, you’re so tight,” he groaned, eyes locked on where your pussy swallowed him. “Always so wet and perfect for me. Shit—”

Yuji set a brutal pace immediately, hips snapping forward so his pelvis slapped against your ass with every thrust. The tattoo jiggled hypnotically with each impact, driving him crazier. “Look at it… fuck, that ink looks so good getting fucked.” His hand came down hard on your ass again and again, spanking you in rhythm with his thrusts. “You feel that? My cock owning this ass?”

“Yes—oh shit, Yuji, harder!” you moaned, gripping the edge of the counter as your body rocked forward. Pancakes were long forgotten.

He leaned over you, one hand tangling in your hair while the other squeezed and spread your cheeks so he could watch every inch of his cock disappear inside you. “That’s it, take it. Such a greedy little hole. Love how your ass bounces for me. This tattoo was made to be covered in my cum, wasn’t it?”

His dirty talk had you clenching around him, pussy fluttering. Yuji fucked you deeper, angling to hit that perfect spot over and over. The kitchen echoed with skin slapping skin, your moans, and his low growls.

“Gonna cum soon—shit, you’re squeezing me so tight,” he panted. He pulled out suddenly, stroking his slick cock furiously. “On your knees—ass up, baby. Want to paint that tattoo.”

You dropped down quickly, arching your back and presenting your ass to him. Yuji slapped his cock against your cheeks a few times, groaning at the sight. Then he erupted with a deep, guttural moan, thick ropes of hot cum shooting across your ass and directly over the tattoo. He kept stroking, milking every drop until the ink was completely covered in pearly white streaks that dripped down your skin.

“Fuuuuck yes… look at that. My cum all over your slutty little tattoo. So fucking perfect,” he breathed, rubbing his spent cock between your cheeks to smear it around. He leaned down and bit the marked flesh one last time, then kissed the tattoo gently, tasting himself on your skin.

You were still trembling, pussy aching to be filled again. Yuji noticed, of course. He flipped you onto your back on the kitchen floor right there, spreading your legs wide.

“Not done yet,” he grinned, that bright, feral smile you loved. His fingers dipped into the cum on your ass and brought it to your clit, rubbing messy circles. “Gonna eat this pussy until you’re screaming, then fuck you again. Want you dripping my cum all day.”

He buried his face between your thighs, tongue lapping eagerly at your folds while two fingers pushed back inside you. You tangled your hands in his pink hair, hips bucking against his mouth as he devoured you like a starving man.

“Yuji—fuck, right there! Don’t stop—” you cried, thighs clamping around his head.

He hummed against your clit, sucking harder. “Taste so good mixed with my cum.” Between licks and sucks, he kept talking.

You came hard on his tongue, back arching off the floor as pleasure crashed through you. Yuji didn’t stop, licking you through it until you were a whimpering, oversensitive mess.

When he finally pulled back, his chin was shiny with your juices. He crawled up your body, kissing you deeply so you could taste yourself, then flipped you onto all fours again.

“Round two, baby,” he said, lining up his cock—already hard again. “This time I’m filling this tight pussy. But I’m still gonna pull out and cover that tattoo again. Can’t help it… it’s too fucking hot.”

He thrust back in with a satisfied groan, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. The morning light illuminated every bounce of your ass, every shift of that tattoo as he fucked you senseless on the kitchen floor.

By the time he painted your ass with a second load, the pancakes were cold and you were both covered in sweat and cum. Yuji collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms and kissing your neck.

“Best welcome home ever,” he murmured, fingers lazily tracing his cum over your tattoo. “Love you… and this perfect ass. Don’t ever cover that tattoo up around the house. It’s mine.”

You laughed breathlessly, snuggling closer. Breakfast could wait. Yuji clearly had other plans for the rest of the morning.

PLAY FIGHT- Kuroo Tetsurō

+18 Kuroo challenges you to play fighting!

cw: manhandling, playful wrestling, dirty talk, breast play, hickeys, fingering, size kink, creampie, praise kink.

note: I listened to My moon my man while writing this.

You and Kuroo had been lounging in his bed for what felt like hours, the two of you were supposed to be studying—or at least pretending to—but the textbooks had long since been shoved aside. Instead, you’d ended up tangled in his sheets, trading lazy jokes and teasing jabs. Kuroo, ever the smug captain, grinned down at you from where he was propped on one elbow, his messy black hair falling into his golden eyes.

“Think you can take me?” he challenged, voice low and playful as he gave your shoulder a light shove.

You shoved him right back, harder than expected, and that was all it took. Laughter bubbled up between you as the play fighting began. He grabbed your wrists, trying to pin you, but you twisted and pushed against his chest, both of you rolling across the mattress. Kuroo’s strength was obvious—he was manhandling you with ease, lifting and flipping you like you weighed nothing.

“Got you,” he growled triumphantly as he finally pinned you beneath him. Your arms ended up intertwined with his, wrists crossed above your head, fingers locked together in the struggle. You were both breathing hard now, chests heaving. Kuroo’s body pressed heavily against yours, warm and solid, his thighs bracketing your hips. His eyes on you as he stared you down, strands of hair sticking to his forehead.

For a second, neither of you moved. Just heavy, ragged breathing filled the space between you. Then, with a low groan, Kuroo crashed his lips against yours.

The kiss was messy and heated from the start—teeth clashing, tongues sliding desperately. He kissed intense, focused, and completely consuming. You moaned softly into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound, deepening the kiss until your head spun. His grip on your intertwined hands tightened for a moment before he released them, sliding his palms down your sides.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he murmured against your lips, voice rough. His hands roamed freely now, tugging at the hem of your shorts. In one smooth motion, he peeled them down your legs along with your top, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. Kuroo pulled back just enough to look at you, his gaze dragging slowly over your body like he was memorizing every curve.

“Shit… look at you,” he breathed, eyes hungry. He drank in the sight for a long moment, chest rising and falling.

Then, with a swift tug, he yanked his own shirt off over his head, revealing the sculpted planes of his body—broad shoulders, big, defined arms, and those sharp abs that flexed with every breath. You couldn’t help yourself. Your fingers reached up, trailing lightly over the ridges of his stomach, tracing the lines of muscle.

Kuroo hissed sharply at the touch, muscles twitching under your fingertips.

You flinched back, startled. “S-sorry—”

He laughed, low and warm, catching your hand and pressing it back against his chest. “I’m just playing, babe. Feels good. Don’t stop.” His voice dropped, teasing. “Unless you want me to stop touching you?”

You shook your head quickly, and he grinned, leaning down to capture your lips again. But this time his mouth didn’t stay there. He kissed a hot trail down your jaw, your neck, then lower—along your collarbone and down your legs , slow and deliberate. His lips brushed the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, making you squirm, before he worked his way back up. When he reached your chest, he deftly unhooked your bra and tossed it aside.

“Beautiful,” he whispered reverently before his mouth latched onto one of your breasts. He licked and sucked greedily, tongue swirling around your nipple while his hand kneaded the other. You arched into him with a gasp, fingers threading through his hair as he left dark hickeys blooming across your soft skin.

“Tetsurō… ah—!” you moaned, the sensation sending sparks through you.

He hummed against your flesh, the vibration making you tremble. After a while, one of his hands slipped lower, sliding beneath the waistband of your underwear. His fingers found your slick heat, teasing your entrance before pushing inside—first one, then two—curling just right.

“Fuck, you’re so wet love,” he groaned, pumping them slowly while his mouth found yours again in another heated kiss. You moaned loudly into it, hips rocking against his hand. He pulled back just enough to smirk down at you, eyes gleaming with mock sympathy.

“Aww, poor baby,” he cooed, voice dripping with teasing affection as his fingers curled deeper. “Making such pretty sounds for me. Does it feel that good? You’re clenching so tight around my fingers.”

Your face burned with embarrassment, and you tried to hide it behind your arm, turning your head away. “Shut up…”

Kuroo chuckled darkly, catching your wrist and gently pulling your arm away. He brought your hand to his lips, kissing your palm softly while holding your gaze, his fingers never stopping their rhythm inside you. “Don’t hide from me. I love seeing you like this—all flushed and needy because of me.”

The intensity in his eyes made your heart race. He kept fingering you until you were panting and whimpering, then finally withdrew his hand. You watched, dazed, as he sat back on his knees and shoved his pants down, freeing his cock. It was thick and hard. He stroked himself a few times, hissing through his teeth at the relief.

“Ready for me?” he asked, voice husky. You nodded eagerly, and he positioned himself between your thighs. He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, until he bottomed out with a deep groan. His head fell forward, forehead pressing against yours as his big biceps caged the sides of your head, muscles flexing with the effort of holding himself up.

“Shit… so tight,” he growled, breathing hard against your skin. “You feel incredible.”

He started moving—slow, deep thrusts at first that had you moaning with every roll of his hips. He was so big, stretching you perfectly, hitting spots that made your toes curl.

“Tetsurō—oh fuck, you’re so big,” you gasped, nails digging into his shoulders.

Your moans seemed to unravel him. His pace quickened, thrusts growing harder and more desperate. “Yeah? You like that?” he panted, voice wrecked. “Your moans sound so fucking pretty. Keep making those sounds for me, baby. I could listen to you all day.”

He drove into you again and again, the bed creaking beneath you, his heavy body pinning you down in the most delicious way. Every thrust pulled another broken moan from your throat, and each one only seemed to spur him on more, his control fraying as he lost himself in the feeling of you.

Kuroo’s hips snapped forward again, burying himself to the hilt inside you. A guttural groan tore from his throat as your walls fluttered around his thick length. He held himself there for a moment, savoring the way you clenched around him, before pulling back almost completely and driving in again with a wet slap of skin on skin.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasped, voice low and strained right next to your ear. His biceps flexed on either side of your head, caging you in as he set a steady, deep rhythm. “You’re squeezing me so damn tight. Like you were made for this—for me.”

You could only moan in response, the sound loud and unrestrained as every thrust pushed the air from your lungs. He was so big, stretching you perfectly, the slight burn melting into overwhelming pleasure with each roll of his hips. Your nails dug into the hard muscle of his back, leaving crescent marks as you tried to ground yourself.

“Tetsurō—ahh! Slow down a little… you’re so deep,” you whimpered, though your body betrayed you by lifting your hips to meet his next thrust.

He chuckled breathlessly against your neck, the sound vibrating through you. “Slow down? But you sound so pretty when I fuck you like this.” He angled his hips, hitting that spot inside you that made stars explode behind your eyes. “Hear that? Right there. You’re moaning even louder now. Don’t lie to me—you love it when I’m this deep.”

Your head fell back against the pillows, mouth open in a silent cry as pleasure coiled tighter in your belly. Kuroo took advantage, latching his mouth onto the sensitive skin of your throat and sucking hard enough to leave another mark. His pace never faltered—long, powerful strokes that had the bed frame creaking rhythmically beneath you.

One of his hands slid down your side, gripping your thigh and hiking it higher around his waist. The new angle let him sink even deeper, and you cried out sharply.

“Shit—Tetsurō!”

“That’s it,” he growled, golden eyes dark with lust as he watched your face. “Say my name again. Louder. I want to hear how good I’m making you feel.” He thrust harder, punctuating his words. “Come on, baby. Let me hear you.”

“Tetsurou—fuck, Tetsurou!” you gasped, using his name like he always loved during moments like this. Your voice cracked on the second syllable as another wave of pleasure crashed over you.

Kuroo’s grin was feral, fangs flashing for a second before he kissed you messily, all tongue and teeth. The kiss was filthy, matching the wet sounds of him moving inside you. When he pulled back, a string of saliva connected your lips.

“You’re getting so wet,” he murmured, voice husky with mock sympathy again. “Poor thing… can’t even think straight with my cock splitting you open, huh?” He slowed his thrusts just enough to grind against you in slow circles, pressing right against that sensitive bundle of nerves. “Look at me.”

You forced your eyes open, meeting his intense gaze. Your cheeks burned hotter at the eye contact while he was still buried so deep.

“Good girl,” he praised, voice dropping an octave. He released your thigh and brought his hand between you, thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight, slick circles. “You’re gonna come for me soon, aren’t you? I can feel you pulsing around me.”

You nodded frantically, hips jerking against his hand and cock. “Yes—yes, please, I’m close… don’t stop—”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he groaned. His thrusts picked up again, faster and more desperate now, chasing his own pleasure while pushing you closer to the edge. Sweat slicked his skin, making his defined chest and abs gleam as he moved above you. You reached up, running your hands over every ridge and plane, feeling the muscles flex and shift under your palms.

Kuroo hissed in pleasure at your touch, eyes fluttering for a second. “Keep touching me like that and I’m not gonna last,” he warned, though the way his cock twitched inside you said he didn’t really mind.

The pressure built unbearably fast. Your moans turned into broken whimpers, louder with every thrust. Kuroo’s breathing grew ragged, his forehead pressed to yours as he drove into you relentlessly.

“Come on, baby. Come for me,” he coaxed, voice rough and commanding. “Let go. I want to feel you falling apart on my cock.”

The combination of his deep thrusts, his thumb on your clit, and that filthy encouragement finally pushed you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed through you hard, walls clamping down around him as you cried out his name. Pleasure flooded every nerve, your thighs shaking around his waist.

“Fuck—yes, just like that,” Kuroo groaned, his rhythm stuttering as your release triggered his own. “You feel so good—shit, I’m gonna—”

With a deep, guttural moan, he buried himself as deep as possible and came hard, hips jerking against you as he spilled inside. His big body shuddered above you, biceps trembling from the intensity. He kept moving through it in shallow thrusts, drawing out both your pleasure until you were both oversensitive and panting.

Kuroo’s weight settled more fully on you—not crushing, but comforting—as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. His arms slid under you, wrapping around your back in a loose embrace while he stayed buried inside.

“Damn,” he whispered against your skin, voice hoarse and satisfied. A lazy, affectionate smile curved his lips. “You’re incredible, you know that? The way you moan for me… I could get addicted to that sound.”

You let out a tired, breathy laugh, running your fingers through his messy hair. “You’re heavy, Tetsurou.”

He chuckled but didn’t move right away, pressing a soft kiss to your collarbone where he’d left a hickey earlier. “Five more minutes like this. Then I’ll get you some water and we can do round two if you’re up for it.”

BABBLIN' ON HIS COCK - Atsumu Miya

18+ Boyfriend Atsumu teases you mercilessly—repeating every desperate sound you make until you’re babbling on his cock.

cw: mocking, unprotected sex, Dirty talk

note: This inspired by another smut I saw here a super long time ago about Suna but for the life of me I cannot find it again. Please let me know if you know what smut I’m talking about.

The bedroom is dim, just the faint orange glow from the streetlights slipping through the half-closed blinds. Atsumu’s got you folded practically in half—knees shoved up toward your chest, one of his big hands wrapped loosely around the back of your thigh to keep you open while the other braces beside your head.

He’s not even going that fast anymore. Just slow, mean, deliberate rolls of his hips. Deep enough that every time he bottoms out you make this broken, airless little sound you can’t control. He knows it. He’s been cataloging every single noise you’ve made since he first slid in.

“‘S’too much—‘s too much—’” he mimics in that syrupy, exaggerated accent of his, pitching his voice higher to match yours from ten minutes ago. “That’s what ya said, wasn’t it, baby? When I was only halfway in?”

You try to glare but it melts into another helpless whimper the second he grinds the blunt head of his cock right against that spot that makes your toes curl.

He grins—sharp, smug, flushed high on his cheekbones.

“‘Tsumu—please—please—’” He drops his voice again, imitating the exact hiccuping way you begged earlier. “Fuck, ya sounded so pretty sayin’ that. Almost made me come right there.”

You clench around him on reflex and he groans low in his throat, hips stuttering for half a second before he regains control.

“None of that now,” he chides, slowing down even more until he’s barely moving—just pulsing inside you, thick and hot and impossible to ignore. “Ya keep squeezin’ like that and I’m gonna have to start all over again. And ya already sound so fucked-out…”

He leans down until his mouth brushes the shell of your ear.

“Listen to this—” He pulls out torturously slow, then sinks back in with one smooth stroke that punches the air out of your lungs. You can’t help it; the sound that leaves you is high and shattered and completely nonsensical.

“—ah—hn—mmph—!”

Atsumu laughs against your throat, dark and delighted.

“Exactly. That’s the one. ‘Ah—hn—mmph—’” He punctuates each syllable with a lazy, punishing grind. “Ya don’t even know what yer sayin’ anymore, do ya? Just babblin’ on my cock like it’s the only thing ya remember how to do.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders; you’re trying to pull him closer and push him away at the same time. It doesn’t matter—he’s not going anywhere.

“‘More—more—need it—’” he parrots again, softer this time, almost sweet. “That was real cute too. Ya want more, huh?”

You nod frantically even though you’re not sure you can take more. Your whole body feels like it’s vibrating, too full, too hot, too everything.

He finally picks up the pace—just enough. Long, dragging strokes that make wet, obscene sounds fill the room every time he fucks back in.

“Say it again for me,” he murmurs, lips brushing your jaw. “C’mon, baby. Let me hear all that pretty nonsense.”

You’re already gone—words slurring together into nothing but needy little cries.

“‘Tsumu—close—g’nna—please—”

He cuts you off with a particularly hard thrust, grinning against your mouth when you choke on a moan.

“‘Tsumu—close—g’nna—please—’” he echoes right back at you, voice wrecked and teasing all at once. “Yeah? Gonna come all over me again? Gonna soak my cock while ya keep cryin’ my name like that?”

You can’t answer. You just arch, thighs shaking, and let him fuck you through it while he keeps whispering every single ridiculous, cock-drunk thing you’ve said tonight—repeating them like a prayer, like he’s never going to let you live them down.

And when you finally shatter around him, sobbing his name into his shoulder, he buries his face in your neck and groans your name like it’s the only word he knows.

“Fuck… there she is,” he breathes, still moving, still teasing even as he starts to lose it himself. “Still talkin’ so sweet even when ya can’t talk at all.”

He kisses the corner of your mouth—slow, filthy, possessive.

“Say it one more time f’me, baby. Just like that. Let me hear it.”

HIGH & HORNY - Plug!Choso Kamo

18+ High, horny, and neglected — you let your tattooed plug inside. Choso doesn’t waste time with cash. He wants you dripping on his fingers, creaming on his cock, and leaking his cum on your boyfriend’s sheets.

cw: cheating, fingering, rough sex, possessive dirty talk, degradation, creampie.

note: Repost from my Wattpad! I won't post work here that I already posted on my Wattpad often, but I love this smut, and I just had to share it here. (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)

You'd been texting him for weeks now, ever since your boyfriend started "working late," another excuse, another night where he'd come home smelling like someone else's perfume and collapse on the couch without even looking at you. It had been three months since he last touched you—really touched you.

You got tired of sitting in your apartment alone, scrolling through the same three apps. Choso was just supposed to be your plug—nothing more. Tall, quiet, ink-black hair always tied back in that messy half-bun, tattoos crawling up his neck like they were trying to choke him. He sold the good shit: clean edibles, premium flower, the occasional perc when your anxiety got too loud. You told yourself the late-night pickups were just convenient. You told yourself the way his dark eyes lingered on your mouth when you handed him cash was nothing.

But tonight your boyfriend was out of town for "work," and you were high already, the edible you'd taken two hours ago melting your bones into warm syrup. Your phone buzzed on the coffee table.

Choso: you still need that pack or what?

You stared at the message until the letters blurred. Then you typed back with shaky thumbs.

You: yeah. come through.

Twenty minutes later there was a soft knock at your door. You opened it in nothing but an oversized hoodie and tiny sleep shorts that barely covered the curve of your ass. Choso stood in the hallway light, black hoodie up, hands in his pockets, that same unreadable expression on his face. The hallway smelled like rain and weed and something sharper—him.

"You alone?" he asked, voice low.

You nodded, stepping aside so he could come in. The door clicked shut behind him like a gunshot. He didn't move toward the couch like usual. He just looked at you, eyes dragging slow from your bare thighs up to the way the hoodie slipped off one shoulder.

"Your man gone?" he asked.

"Yeah."

He hummed. The sound vibrated straight between your legs.

Choso pulled a fat ziplock from his pocket, set it on the counter. You reached for your purse, but he caught your wrist—gentle, but firm enough that your pulse jumped.

"I don't want money tonight," he said.

Your mouth went dry. "Then what do you want?"

Choso stepped in until the toes of his boots nudged your bare feet. His eyes flicked down to where the oversized hoodie had slipped off one shoulder, exposing the soft curve there, then dragged back up to lock on yours.

"He still not fucking you right?" The question landed blunt and filthy, no preamble, like he'd been waiting weeks to say it out loud.

Your face ignited. You hadn't told him—not outright. But Choso wasn't the type to miss details. He'd caught the way your thighs would clench together when he leaned against your doorframe a little too long, the way your breath hitched when his fingers brushed yours passing the bag. And that one night a couple weeks back—high as hell off his own product, wine-loose and bitter—you'd let it slip: how your boyfriend hadn't made you cum in months, how it felt like he was just going through the motions, how you were starting to forget what it even felt like to be wanted. Choso had listened in silence, then exhaled slow smoke smirking and muttered, "That's a fucking crime."

He hadn't pushed then. But he'd remembered.

Now his thumb stroked once—slow, deliberate—over the inside of your wrist. "Don't lie to me," he added, quieter.

Your breath caught. Shame and arousal twisted together so tight you couldn't tell them apart. you whispered, "My boyfriend—"

"—ain't here," Choso cut in, smooth as a blade. He tugged you forward a half-step so your chest brushed his hoodie. "And he ain't been taking care of what's his. That's why you keep texting me at 1 a.m. That's why you answer the door looking like this." His free hand lifted, knuckles grazing the bare skin of your thigh just under the hem of the shorts—high enough that if he crooked a finger he'd be touching slick. "You been starving, baby. Starving for someone who actually knows how to feed you."

He was right. Fuck, he was right. Your boyfriend fucked you like he was checking a box—two minutes of missionary, a grunt, done. Choso looked like he'd ruin you and thank you for it.

You didn't answer with words. You just rose up on your toes and kissed him.

The second your lips touched, something snapped. Choso groaned into your mouth like he'd been holding it in for months. His hands slid under the hoodie, palms rough and hot against your bare waist, yanking you flush against him. He tasted like mint and the faint sweetness of the pre-roll he'd probably smoked on the way over. His tongue pushed past your lips, claiming, and you moaned so loud it embarrassed you.

He walked you backward until your ass hit the counter. The ziplock crinkled under your hip. Choso didn't care. He lifted you like you weighed nothing, set you on the granite, and shoved the hoodie up to your neck. No bra underneath. Your nipples were already hard from the cool air and the way he was staring.

"Fuck," he breathed. "Look at you."

He ducked his head and sucked one into his mouth, tongue swirling, teeth grazing just hard enough to make your back arch. You threaded your fingers through his hair, knocking the tie loose so the black strands spilled over your knuckles. He switched to the other nipple, sucking harder, one big hand kneading your tit while the other shoved your shorts and panties down in one rough motion.

You were soaked. Embarrassingly soaked. The fabric stuck to your pussy for a second before he peeled it away.

Choso pulled back just enough to look down between your spread thighs. "All this for me?" His voice had dropped another octave. "Your man know you get this wet for the plug?"

"Don't—don't talk about him," you gasped, but the shame only made you wetter.

He smirked, slow and filthy. "Too late, baby. You let me in here knowing you got a boyfriend. That makes this pussy mine tonight."

Two thick fingers dragged through your folds, spreading the slick. He circled your clit once, twice, then pushed both fingers inside you without warning. Your walls clenched around the sudden stretch. He curled them immediately, stroking that spongy spot that made your toes curl.

"Oh fuck—"

"Yeah? Right there?" He pumped faster, thumb pressing firm on your clit. The wet sounds filled the kitchen—obscene, loud. "Listen to that. Greedy little cunt sucking my fingers in. Bet he never makes you sound like this."

You couldn't answer. Your head fell back against the cabinet, mouth open, hips rocking into his hand like a slut. He added a third finger, stretching you wider, and you cried out.

Choso watched your face the whole time, eyes half-lidded, lips parted. "You gonna cum already? Just from my fingers? Go ahead. Cum on my hand."

The words hit like a slap. Your orgasm crashed over you so hard your vision whited out. You clamped down around his fingers, gushing, thighs shaking. He didn't stop—kept stroking through it until you were whimpering, oversensitive, trying to close your legs.

He finally pulled his hand free, glistening to the knuckles. Without breaking eye contact he brought those fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean, groaning like your taste was his favorite drug.

"Bedroom," he ordered.

You didn't argue. You slid off the counter on shaky legs and let him follow you down the hall, his hand possessively on the back of your neck the whole way. The second you crossed the threshold he spun you around, yanked the hoodie off, and shoved you onto the bed.

Choso stripped fast. Hoodie tossed, shirt yanked over his head, jeans shoved down with his boxers in one impatient motion. His body hit the dim bedroom light like a threat—lean, corded muscle under pale skin, black tattoos snaking across his chest, ribs, and down into the sharp V that disappeared below his waist. When his cock sprang free it was already thick and heavy, veins standing out, the flushed head slick with pre-cum that beaded at the slit and dripped slow.

Your mouth watered. You couldn't help it.

He climbed over you, knees sinking the mattress on either side of your hips, arms caging your head. His dark hair fell loose around his face, half shadowing those unreadable eyes as he stared down at you like prey he'd finally cornered.

"Spread wider," he ordered, voice gravel-rough. No question, no please.

You obeyed before your brain caught up—thighs falling open, knees bending, offering yourself like you'd been waiting for this exact command.

He didn't tease. He just hooked your legs over his elbows, folded you in half until your knees nearly kissed your shoulders, and lined himself up. The blunt head nudged your soaked entrance, parting your folds, smearing your slick along his length as he dragged it up and down once—twice—coating himself.

"Beg for it," he said. Low. Flat. Like it wasn't even a request.

"Choso—"

"Beg me to fuck you while your man's gone."

Your pride cracked in record time. Heat flooded your face, your cunt, everywhere. "Please," you breathed, voice shaking. "Please fuck me. I need it—need your cock—please—"

He didn't wait for the rest. One brutal snap of his hips and he buried himself to the hilt.

The stretch was immediate and overwhelming—thick enough to burn in the best way, filling you so completely your back arched off the bed and a raw scream tore out of your throat. He bottomed out hard, pubic bone grinding against your clit, holding there for a long second so you could feel every pulsing inch stretching your walls.

"Fuck, so tight," he growled. "Squeezing me so good."

Then he started moving—hard, punishing strokes that made the headboard slam against the wall. The wet slap of skin on skin mixed with your broken moans. He watched his cock disappear inside you, watched the way your pussy creamed around his shaft.

"Look at that," he panted. "Messy girl. Making a puddle on your boyfriend's sheets."

Every slam of his hips punched the air out of your lungs, every grind against your clit sent sparks up your spine. You were too full, too stretched, too taken to feel anything except the filthy heat building low in your belly.

"Cum," he ordered. "Cum on my cock right fucking now. Show me how much better I fuck you than he ever did."

You couldn't answer with words—just a choked whimper as he angled deeper, hitting that spot inside you over and over until your thighs shook.

He smirked, dark and mean. "Yeah. C'mon baby."

He reached between you and rubbed your clit in tight circles. Your orgasm hit like a freight train, walls fluttering around his cock so hard he cursed.

"Shit—gonna cum inside you if you keep doing that."

You locked your ankles behind his back. "Do it. Please—fill me up—"

Choso's rhythm stuttered. He buried himself deep and came with a guttural groan, cock pulsing as thick ropes of cum flooded you. You felt every spurt, hot and endless, leaking out around his shaft because there was too much.

He stayed inside you while you both caught your breath, forehead pressed to yours. After a minute he pulled out slowly, watching his cum drip from your swollen pussy onto the sheets.

Then he smirked, dark and satisfied.

"Round two in the shower?" he asked, voice rough. "Or you want me to eat it out of you first?"

You were already nodding before he finished the sentence.

GAME OVER - Yuji Itadori

18+ Boyfriend Yuji is too focused on his game—until you decide he’s ignored you on his bed for long enough. Teasing him by touching yourself and cockwarming him.

cw: unprotected sex

note: First post here kinda nervous

You sprawl across Yuji Itadori’s bed like you own it—because tonight, you kind of do. The room is dim, lit only by the blue glow of his monitor and the faint strip of light under the door. His oversized black T-shirt rides up your thighs, the hem barely covering the curve of your ass, and nothing underneath. You’ve been lying here for forty-three minutes, watching the way his broad back flexes under his tank top every time he leans forward to shout into the headset.

“Bro, Megumi, left side—left! Inumaki, where the hell are you?!” Yuji’s voice cracks with that bright laugh that always makes your stomach flutter, but right now it just pisses you off. His fingers hammer the controller like the game is the only thing in the world worth his attention. You’re right here, thighs pressed together, heat already pooling low in your belly, and he’s too busy yelling at pixels to notice.

Enough.

You shift slowly, deliberately, letting the mattress creak just loud enough to carry across the room. Your hand slides down your stomach, fingers tracing the waistband of the shirt before slipping underneath. The first brush of your fingertips over your already slick folds pulls a soft, breathy sigh from your lips—quiet, but not quiet enough. You circle your clit lazily, eyes locked on the back of his head, on the way his pink hair sticks up in every direction under the headset band.

Another slow stroke. Your hips roll into your own hand, and this time the sigh turns into a low, needy hum.

Yuji’s shoulders tense. His controller clicks once, twice, then stills.

“…guys, hold up,” he mutters into the mic, voice distracted. You hear the faint crackle of Toge’s muffled reply—“Tuna mayo?”—and Megumi’s flat “What’s wrong?” before Yuji yanks the mic away from his mouth just enough to glance over his shoulder.

His eyes find you instantly.

You’re on your back now, knees bent and spread, shirt rucked up to your ribs so he can see everything. Two fingers glide through your wetness, parting your folds, showing him how shiny and ready you already are. Your other hand cups one breast, thumb flicking over your nipple until it pebbles tight. You bite your lip and moan again, louder this time, letting it roll out of you like you can’t help it.

“Shit,” Yuji breathes. His gaze is wide, pupils blown black, the game completely forgotten for a second. The controller sits loose in his lap, but he doesn’t mute the call.

You smile, slow and wicked, and push two fingers inside yourself with an obscene, wet sound that carries across the quiet room. “You’ve been playing for almost an hour, Yuji,” you purr, voice husky. “What are you even doing over there when you’ve got me on your bed like this?”

He swallows hard. You watch the bob of his throat, the way his tank top clings to the sudden rise and fall of his chest. On the headset you hear Megumi’s deadpan “Itadori?” and Toge’s confused “Salmon?” but Yuji just stares, lips parted.

You crook your fingers, curling them against that spot that makes your back arch off the mattress. A real moan spills out this time—loud, shameless. Your thighs tremble.

That does it.

Yuji rips the headset off and slams it onto the desk, mic still half-open so his friends can probably hear the wet sounds and your breathy little gasps if they’re listening hard enough. He spins in the chair, chair wheels squeaking, and the look on his face is pure hunger. “Babe… you’re killing me.”

“Good,” you whisper, still fucking yourself slowly with your fingers, eyes never leaving his. “Come here and do something about it, then.”

He’s across the room in two strides, knees hitting the edge of the bed. His hands—big, warm, calloused from training—grab your thighs and yank you toward him until your ass is right at the edge of the mattress. But you sit up before he can dive in, pushing at his chest until he sits back in the gaming chair again, legs spread wide. The bulge in his gray sweatpants is obscene, straining against the fabric like it’s trying to escape.

You climb into his lap, straddling him, and hook your fingers into the waistband of his sweats. “You’re not turning the game off,” you tell him, voice sweet and filthy. “You’re gonna keep playing. And I’m gonna warm you up while you do.”

Yuji’s breath hitches. “Fuck… you’re serious?”

You answer by tugging his sweats and boxers down just enough for his cock to spring free—thick, flushed dark at the tip, already leaking. Fuck, he’s so hard it looks painful. You wrap your hand around the base, giving him one slow pump that makes his hips jerk. Then you rise up on your knees, line him up, and sink down.

The stretch is perfect. He fills you inch by inch, hot and heavy, until your ass is flush against his thighs and he’s buried to the hilt. You both groan—his low and wrecked, yours high and satisfied. You clench around him deliberately, once, twice, feeling the way he throbs inside you.

“Shit—babe, you’re so tight,” he rasps, forehead dropping to your shoulder. His hands grip your waist like he’s trying not to move.

You grab the headset from the desk and settle it back over his ears, then lean in and whisper against his mouth, “Play your game, Yuji. I want to feel you twitch every time you try to focus.”

He curses under his breath but picks the controller back up. You hear Toge’s voice crackle through the earpiece—“Mustard leaf?!”—and Megumi’s suspicious “Did you just… never mind.” Yuji tries to answer, voice strained. “Yeah, I’m—uh—I’m here. Just… had to do something.”

You start rolling your hips in tiny, torturous circles. Not enough to ride him properly, just enough to keep him buried deep, to let your walls flutter and squeeze around his cock like a velvet fist. Every little shift makes him hit that spot inside you that sends sparks up your spine. You bury your face in his neck, lips brushing his racing pulse, and moan softly right against his skin so the sound stays between the two of you.

Yuji’s thumbs slam the controller buttons like he’s trying to punish them. “Left—left, damn it—Megumi, I can’t—fuck.” His hips twitch up once, involuntary, and you feel it all the way in your belly. You clench harder in response, milking him, and he chokes on a groan.

Minutes drag by like that. You cock-warming him slow and filthy while he tries to play, sweat beading on his temples, voice getting rougher every time he talks to his friends. You kiss along his jaw, lick the shell of his ear, whisper every dirty thing you can think of.

“Feel how wet I am for you? All that time you left me waiting… I was dripping on your sheets.”

“You’re so big, Yuu. Stretching me so full. Bet your friends can hear how bad you want to fuck me right now.”

Every word makes him throb harder inside you. His breathing is ragged, controller clicks erratic. Megumi finally snaps, “Itadori, what the hell is going on over there?” and Yuji just growls, “Gotta go—emergency—bye,” before ripping the headset off and throwing it across the desk.

The controller clatters to the floor.

His hands are on your ass in the next heartbeat, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. “You win,” he snarls, voice low and dangerous in a way that makes your pussy clench around him again. “You fucking win. Now I’m gonna make up for every goddamn minute I left you on that bed.”

He stands up with you still impaled on his cock, strong arms holding you like you weigh nothing. Two steps and your back hits the mattress. Yuji doesn’t pull out—he drives in deeper, hips snapping forward in one brutal thrust that punches the air out of your lungs. Then he starts fucking you like he’s mad at you for teasing him.

Hard. Fast. Deep.

The wet slap of skin on skin fills the room, louder than the forgotten game menu music still looping on his monitor. He hooks your legs over his shoulders, folding you in half, and the new angle makes him grind against your cervix with every stroke. You cry out, nails raking down his back, leaving red lines under his tank top.

“Fuck—yes—right there,” you sob, head thrown back. He leans down and catches your mouth in a messy kiss, all tongue and teeth, swallowing every moan while he rails you into the mattress.

“You wanted my attention?” he pants against your lips, hips never slowing. “You got it. Gonna fuck you so good you forget I ever picked up that controller.”

He shifts, one hand sliding between your bodies to rub tight, relentless circles over your swollen clit. Your thighs start shaking. The pressure builds fast—white-hot and overwhelming—until it crashes over you. You come hard, walls fluttering and squeezing around his cock, soaking his sweats where they’re still bunched around his thighs. Your vision whites out; you scream his name loud enough that the whole building floor probably hears.

Yuji doesn’t stop. He fucks you through it, growling praises against your neck—“That’s it, baby, soak my cock—good girl, so fucking good for me”—until the overstimulation turns into another building wave.

Only then does he pull out, flip you onto your stomach, and yank your hips up so your ass is in the air. He slams back in from behind, one hand fisting your hair, the other spanking your ass hard enough to leave a handprint.

“Still think I should’ve kept playing?” he taunts, voice wrecked. Another sharp thrust. “Huh? Answer me.”

“N-no,” you whimper, pushing back to meet him. “Don’t stop—please, Yuji—”

He laughs, low and breathless, and starts fucking you even harder, the headboard banging against the wall in a steady rhythm. You can feel another orgasm building, coiling tighter and tighter with every drag of his thick cock against your walls.

“Come on, baby,” he growls, reaching around to pinch your clit. “One more. Give it to me. Want you creaming all over me again before I fill you up.”

It hits you like a freight train. You shatter, sobbing into the pillow, pussy pulsing around him so hard he curses and buries himself to the hilt. His hips stutter, and then he’s coming too—hot, thick ropes flooding deep inside you, so much it leaks out around his cock and drips down your thighs.

He collapses over you, chest to your back, both of you panting and sweaty and trembling. For a long minute the only sounds are your ragged breathing and the distant, tinny game music still playing from the monitor.

Yuji presses a soft, lazy kiss to the back of your neck. “Next time you want attention,” he mumbles, voice hoarse and satisfied, “just climb in my lap sooner. I’ll ditch the game in two seconds flat.”

You smile into the pillow, still feeling him twitch inside you. “Noted,” you whisper. “But I kind of liked making you suffer.”

He chuckles, nipping your shoulder. “Evil. I love it.”

STOP TEASING BABY- Miya Atsumu

+18 Teasing your boyfriend Tsumu turns into him getting pissed.

cw: unprotected sex, creampie, rough manhandling, hair pulling, breeding kink, dirty talk

note: Pretty old draft, can you tell who my fav hq character is.

You were still pissed at Atsumu for ditching your plans again over some dumb volleyball thing, arms crossed tight as you sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall like he didn’t exist. He hated it when you ignored him. Hated it.

“C’mon, baby,” he whined from behind you, that thick Kansai drawl already cracking with need. “Look at me, will ya? Stop actin’ like I ain’t even here. It wasn’t that big a deal, I swear.”

You didn’t turn. So he scooted closer on his knees, hands sliding up your arms. His mouth found your shoulder first—soft, warm presses that made your skin tingle. Then higher, right against the curve of your neck, slow and wet. A little giggle slipped out before you could stop it.

“Ha—there it is,” he muttered, grinning against your throat. “Knew ya couldn’t stay mad forever.”

His lips moved again, this time chasing your mouth. The first kiss was gentle, almost sweet, just a brush that made your stomach flip. Then he tilted his head and went harder, tongue sliding in like he owned you, deep and hungry. You kissed back for a second—couldn’t help it—but then you remembered you were supposed to be mad. You pulled back just enough, teasing, lips hovering an inch away.

Atsumu chased immediately, leaning in with a soft grunt. “Hey—don’t ya dare.” He tried again, but you turned your face, smirking. He growled low in his throat, hands tightening on your waist. “Baby… c’mon, stop teasin’ me like that. Ya know I can’t—”

You did it again, pulling away right as he leaned in. That was the last straw.

His patience snapped.

“Fuckin’ stop it,” he snarled, voice rough. One big hand grabbed your hip hard enough to bruise, the other fisting the front of your shirt as he yanked you forward. In one smooth motion he hauled you onto his lap, your thighs straddling his hips, chests pressed tight. His mouth crashed into yours before you could even gasp—hard, filthy, no more playing around. His tongue shoved deep, licking into you like he was starving, sucking on your bottom lip until it stung.

You felt it immediately—his cock, already rock-hard and straining against his shorts, grinding up right between your legs. Thick and hot, twitching every time you shifted.

“Feel that?” he panted against your mouth, not even pulling back far enough to speak properly. “That’s what ya do to me, ya little tease. Can’t even kiss ya once without gettin’ this fuckin’ hard. Fuck, I can’t stop… I can’t fuckin’ stop kissin’ ya.”

He didn’t. Even while he spoke, his lips stayed glued to yours, messy and wet, tongues sliding sloppy. He kissed you like he’d die if he didn’t—deep, open-mouthed, desperate noises spilling out between every breath. His hands roamed, shoving your shirt up so he could palm your tits, thumbs flicking your nipples until you moaned into his mouth.

“Fuck—ya taste so good,” he groaned, biting your bottom lip and tugging. “Missed this mouth. Missed how wet ya get for me just from kissin’. Bet yer already drippin’, ain’t ya?”

You tried to pull back again just to mess with him, but he growled and yanked you back by the hair, tongue fucking into your mouth even harder. “Don’t. Ya. Dare,” he snarled between kisses. “I told ya to stop teasin’. Now yer gonna sit right here on my cock and take it.”

He rocked his hips up, grinding that thick bulge right against your clit through your panties. You whimpered. He swallowed the sound, kissing you filthier, spit slicking both your chins.

“Atta girl,” he murmured, voice wrecked. “Grind on it. Let me feel how bad ya want me.” One hand slipped under your skirt, fingers shoving your panties aside. He groaned loud when he felt how soaked you were. “Shit—yer cunt’s already creamin’ for me. So fuckin’ messy, baby. All that from a few kisses? so fucking hot.”

Two thick fingers pushed inside you without warning, curling hard. You moaned into his mouth and he ate the sound, kissing you through it, tongue matching the rhythm of his fingers pumping in and out. He wouldn’t stop kissing you—wouldn’t even pull back to breathe properly. Just messy, desperate presses of lips and tongue while he finger-fucked you open, thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit.

“Gonna fuck ya so good,” he panted against your lips, voice cracking. “Gonna stuff this pretty pussy full of my cock and keep kissin’ ya the whole time. Ya know why? ‘Cause once I start, I can’t stop. Can’t get enough of yer mouth. Can’t get enough of how ya taste when ya cum.”

He yanked his shorts down just enough, cock springing free—fat, flushed, leaking all over his abs. He grabbed your hips and slammed you down onto it in one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt.

“Fuuuuck—yes,” he hissed, head falling back for half a second before he dragged you back into another bruising kiss. “So tight. So wet. Take all of me, baby. That’s it—ride it just like that.”

He didn’t let you breathe. Every thrust was matched with a deep, filthy kiss—tongues tangling, teeth clacking, his moans vibrating straight into your mouth. His hands gripped your ass, bouncing you harder on his cock, the wet slap of skin loud in the room.

“Tell me how it feels,” he demanded, biting your lip hard enough to sting. “Tell me how full ya are. C’mon, baby, use that pretty mouth while I’m still kissin’ it.”

You tried to answer, but he just kissed you again, swallowing your words. “Can’t stop,” he groaned, hips snapping up faster. “Can’t fuckin’ stop kissin’ ya—ya feel too good. Yer pussy’s suckin’ me in, squeezin’ my cock so tight. Gonna cum inside ya, fill ya up till it’s leakin’ out. Ya want that?”

His thumb found your clit, rubbing fast. You were shaking, close, and he could feel it.

“That’s it—cum for me,” he growled, kissing you so deep you saw stars. “Cum all over my cock, baby. Let me feel it. I ain’t pullin’ out till yer screamin’ my name.”

You shattered hard, clenching around him, and Atsumu kept kissing you through it—messy, sloppy, never once stopping even as his own hips stuttered. He fucked you through your orgasm and straight into his, burying himself deep and spilling hot and thick inside you with a broken moan right into your mouth.

“Fuck—take it, take all of it—mine, yer mine—”

Even after he came, he didn’t stop kissing you. Slow and lazy now, but still deep, still hungry, cock twitching inside you as he held you tight against his chest.

“See?” he whispered, lips brushing yours again and again, voice hoarse and satisfied. “Told ya… once I start kissin’ ya, I can’t stop. Not ever. Yer stuck with me now, baby. All night if I want.”

CAN'T UNDERSTAND YOU WITH YOUR MOUTH FULL - Rintaro Suna

18+ After practice in the empty locker room, your boyfriend Rintaro catches you staring at his muscles and forces you onto your knees gagging on his cock.

cw: Unprotected sex, oral sex (deepthroating/gagging), hair pulling, dirty talk, teasing/degradation, size kink, semi-public sex.

note: I've been posting daily my drafts and I've been loving itttt! btw I need to update my masterlist I will try to do it today.

The locker room was quiet after practice, the distant echoes of slamming doors and fading footsteps long gone. Most of the Inarizaki team had already cleared out, leaving just the humid scent of sweat, the faint metallic tang of lockers, and the low hum of the overhead lights. You sat on the wooden bench, pretending to scroll through your phone. But your eyes kept drifting.

Suna Rintaro stood a few feet away, back to you, peeling off his damp practice jersey. The muscles along his spine flexed and shifted as he shrugged it off—broad shoulders tapering into his athletic build. His skin glistened faintly with sweat, the lines of his back dipping into the waistband of his shorts. You couldn’t look away.

He paused, then glanced over his shoulder. Those sharp, half-lidded eyes caught you instantly. A slow, cocky smirk tugged at his lips.

“Take a picture,” he drawled, voice low and lazy like he couldn’t be bothered to put any real effort into the tease. “It’ll last longer.”

Your face burned. “I wasn’t—”

“Yeah, you were.” He turned halfway, giving you a better view of his toned chest and the faint trail of hair disappearing beneath his shorts. He didn’t rush to cover up. Instead, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband and pushed his shorts down just enough to tease, watching your reaction with that signature bored-but-amused expression. “Staring like you’ve never seen a guy change before. What’s the matter?”

You swallowed, trying to play it cool. “You’re the one taking forever. Hurry up so we can leave.”

Suna chuckled softly, stepping closer until he was right in front of you. “Nah. I think you like the show.” His hand came up, lazily brushing a strand of hair from your face before gripping your chin. “Eyes were glued to my back. You into backs now? Or just mine?”

He kept talking in that slow, mean drawl, making you squirm on the bench. Every denial just made his smirk widen. Before you knew it, your hands were on his thighs, and he was guiding you down.

“On your knees, then,” he murmured, voice dropping. “If you’re gonna stare, might as well make yourself useful.”

You sank to the cool tile floor, heart hammering. Suna leaned back against the lockers with a lazy sigh, one hand threading through your hair. He didn’t yank—yet. He just held you there, looking down with those sleepy eyes that hid how sharp he really was.

“Pretty like this,” he commented, almost offhand. He freed himself, already half-hard from the teasing and the power trip. “C’mon. Open up.”

You took him into your mouth, slow at first, tongue swirling around the head. Suna let out a low groan, fingers tightening in your hair. “Fuck… yeah, just like that. You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?”

He was thick, heavy on your tongue. You worked him deeper, hollowing your cheeks, and he hissed through his teeth. “Good girl. Deeper—ah, shit.”

You pushed further, and when he hit the back of your throat, you gagged softly. Suna’s grip turned firmer, pulling your hair just enough to guide you. “Easy. Breathe through your nose. You can take more than that, can’t you?”

Another gag as he rocked his hips forward lazily. He didn’t thrust hard—he never needed to with that effortless control—but the pull on your scalp and the way he filled your mouth made your eyes water.

“Look at you,” he murmured, voice rough but still so fucking lazy. He leaned down a little, catching your watery gaze. That cocky smirk deepened. “Can’t understand you with your mouth full. What were you trying to say? ‘Too big’? Or ‘more’?”

You tried to answer around him—something muffled and wet—and he groaned again, eyes fluttering half-shut in pleasure. “Yeah… keep making those sounds. Feels good when you gag like that. So eager.”

He kept talking you through it, mean little praises mixed with commands. “Slower—fuck, yeah, swirl your tongue right there. You’re drooling everywhere, messy girl. You like sucking me off in the locker room? Risky. What if someone walks in and sees you on your knees for me?”

Your thighs pressed together, heat pooling low. Every gag earned another tug on your hair and another smirk when he tilted your head up to watch your face. “Eyes on me. Yeah… just like that. You’re doing so good.”

After a few more minutes of his lazy thrusts and filthy commentary, he pulled you off with a wet pop, breathing heavier but still looking far too composed. Strings of saliva connected your lips to his cock. He wiped your chin with his thumb, almost gentle.

“Up,” he said, tugging you to your feet and turning you toward the bench. “Bend over. I’m not done with you.”

You braced your hands on the bench, shorts and underwear shoved down in one lazy motion by him. Suna pressed up behind you, rubbing his slick cock against your entrance. He was still talking, voice low against your ear.

“I know, I know,” he murmured, that cocky smirk audible even if you couldn’t see it. “It’s big. But you can take it, can’t you? You got this far.”

He pushed in slowly, stretching you open. You gasped, fingers curling against the wood. “Suna—fuck, slow—”

“Shh. Relax.” He sank deeper, groaning low in his throat. “So tight… good girl. Look at you, taking every inch. Knew you could.”

Once he bottomed out, he paused, hips flush against your ass, letting you adjust while his hands roamed lazily over your back and hips. Then he started moving—long, deep strokes that were unhurried but relentless. The slap of skin echoed softly in the empty locker room.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he grunted, one hand sliding up to grip your hair again, pulling your head back slightly. “So wet for me already. Been wet since you were staring at my back, huh?”

You moaned, pushing back to meet his thrusts. “Yes—ah—Suna, harder…”

“Harder?” He laughed softly, mean and breathless. “Greedy. Thought you were struggling with how big it is.” He picked up the pace just enough to make you cry out, hitting that spot inside you with infuriating precision. “Say it. Tell me how much you like it.”

“I like it—fuck, I love it,” you gasped, voice breaking on a particularly deep thrust. “You’re so deep—”

“Yeah? Feel me here?” He pressed a hand to your lower stomach, grinding in. “That’s me. Filling you up.”

The teasing never stopped. Every time you moaned too loud, he’d smirk against your shoulder and whisper, “Quiet. Unless you want the team to come back and see how well you take my cock.”

He fucked you like that for a long time—deep, steady, lazy strokes mixed with sharp snaps of his hips when he wanted to hear you whine. His free hand slipped between your legs, rubbing lazy circles that made your knees buckle.

“Come on,” he groaned, voice getting rougher. “Cum for me. Wanna feel you squeezing me.”

You came clenching around him with a broken moan of his name. Suna hissed, thrusts faltering for the first time as he chased his own release.

“Fuck… that’s it.” He buried himself deep and came with a low, satisfied groan, hips twitching against you.

He pulled out slowly, helping you straighten up with uncharacteristic gentleness for how mean he’d been minutes earlier. But the smirk was back as he handed you your clothes.

“Clean up quick. Or do you want to walk out of here looking like you just got railed in the locker room?”