#daintylilly

[da1ntyli1ly]

Aquarium date<3

18+ mdni

You and Gojo wanted to have a really cute aquarium date that you spent hours panning. But Gojo had to ruin it by being so damn needy..

The aquarium had been your idea from the start, weeks of careful planning poured into every detail. You wanted the perfect date—quiet hours wandering through the dim, blue-lit tunnels, hands brushing as you pointed out stingrays gliding overhead and the lazy sway of jellyfish pulsing in their tanks. Satoru had been excited, tail wagging so hard it nearly knocked over a display stand the moment you mentioned it, his blue eyes sparkling with that familiar, eager light.

You'd dressed cute for it too, a soft skirt that swayed around your thighs and a top that hugged just right. Toru had noticed. He noticed everything about you. By the time you reached the shark tunnel, his steps had grown restless, ears twitching, hands fidgeting at his sides. You felt his gaze on you more than the exhibits, heavy and warm, following the sway of your hips.

"Toru," you murmured, glancing over your shoulder. "You're supposed to be looking at the fish."

"I am," he whispered back, voice low and tight. "Just... not the ones in the tanks." His cheeks flushed pink beneath pale lashes, and when you turned fully to face him, you caught the obvious bulge straining against his jeans. He shifted closer, breath hitching. "Baby, I can't—fuck, I can't focus. You look so good and you smell so sweet and I've been thinking about your mouth since we left the house."

You glanced around. The tunnel was mostly empty this late in the afternoon, but still public enough to make your pulse jump. "Toru, we planned this for hours. You can't just—"

"Please," he whined softly, ears flattening, tail curling tight against his leg. His hands found your waist, fingers trembling. "Just a few minutes. There's a staff door back there, behind the gift shop. No one will see. I need you so bad it hurts. I promise I'll be quiet. I'll be good. Just... let me feel your mouth, please?"

His desperation was palpable, hips twitching forward in tiny, involuntary rolls against your thigh. You could feel the heat of him through denim, the way his cock throbbed with every shaky breath. His eyes were glassy, pupils blown wide, the picture of a needy puppy barely holding himself together.

You sighed, but your own body was already reacting, heat pooling low in your belly at the sight of him so worked up over you. "Five minutes," you warned, voice low. "And if anyone catches us—"

"They won't," he promised instantly, already tugging you toward the discreet door marked 'Employees Only.' His hand found yours, fingers lacing tight as he pulled you through, into a narrow hallway lined with storage crates and the low hum of machinery. The door clicked shut behind you, muffling the distant murmur of the aquarium visitors.

Toru was on you in seconds, backing you against the wall with gentle urgency. His mouth found yours in a messy, grateful kiss, tongue sliding past your lips as his hands fumbled with his belt. The metal clinked softly in the quiet space. He shoved his jeans down just enough to free his cock, thick and flushed, already leaking at the tip. It bobbed heavily between you, twitching with every beat of his heart.

"Thank you," he breathed against your mouth, voice cracking. "Thank you, thank you—fuck, I love you so much." His fingers threaded into your hair, not pushing, just holding, as you sank to your knees on the cool tile floor. The position put you eye-level with his cock, the head glistening, veins standing out along the shaft. He smelled like arousal and the faint trace of his usual clean scent, and when your tongue darted out to lick a slow stripe from base to tip, he made a broken, needy sound that echoed off the walls.

You took your time at first, savoring the way he trembled above you. Your lips wrapped around the head, tongue swirling over the sensitive underside, tasting the salty bead of pre-cum that welled up. Toru's thighs flexed, muscles jumping, but he stayed still, letting you set the pace. One hand braced against the wall above your head, the other stroking gently through your hair, ears flicking with every wet sound your mouth made.

"So good," he whimpered, hips giving tiny, aborted thrusts. "Your mouth feels so fucking perfect. I think about this all the time—when we're home, when we're out, even when you're just holding my hand. I get so hard it aches." His voice cracked on the last word as you took him deeper, relaxing your throat to swallow around the length of him. The head nudged the back of your throat and he gasped, tail lashing behind him in frantic arcs.

You set a steady rhythm, bobbing your head, one hand wrapped around the base to stroke what your mouth couldn't reach. Saliva slicked your fingers, dripping down to his balls as you worked him. Toru was loud despite his promise, soft whines and bitten-off moans spilling from his lips every time you sucked harder or flicked your tongue just right. His free hand clenched into a fist against the wall, claws pricking at the paint.

"Gonna cum," he warned after only a few minutes, voice high and desperate. "Baby, I'm—fuck, I'm close already. You make me so sensitive." His hips jerked forward once, twice, before he forced himself still again, thighs shaking with the effort of holding back. "Can I? Please, can I cum in your mouth? I want to watch you swallow it. Want to see it on your tongue."

You hummed your permission around his cock and that was all it took. Toru came with a choked cry, cock pulsing thick ropes of cum down your throat. You swallowed around him, throat working, and he watched with glassy, adoring eyes, ears pinned flat to his head. Some of it escaped the corner of your mouth, trailing down your chin, and he reached down with a trembling hand to wipe it away with his thumb, pushing the mess back between your lips.

"So pretty," he murmured, voice hoarse. "My pretty owner. Thank you. I love you. I love you so much." He helped you to your feet on shaky legs, pulling you into a tight hug that smelled like salt and his cologne. His cock was still half-hard against your thigh, twitching with aftershocks, but the frantic edge had faded from his eyes. "We can go back to the date now," he promised, nuzzling into your neck. "I'll be good. I just... needed you."

You straightened his clothes, wiped your mouth, and led him back through the door into the blue-lit tunnel. His hand found yours again, fingers squeezing tight, tail wagging slow and content. The stingrays still glided overhead. The jellyfish still pulsed in their tanks. And Toru stayed close, occasionally pressing a grateful kiss to your temple, the picture of a satisfied puppy who couldn't quite help ruining the plan—but made it worth it anyway.

[da1ntyli1ly]

6767676767676767676767676767676767

Fratkuna x little miss perfect. How many licks does it take to get to the centre of your teacher’s shoes?

18+ mdni and uhhhhhh 67🤤

You linger in the doorway of Sukuna's frat room, arms locked across your chest while your pulse hammers in your ears. The space smells like sweat and cheap cologne, his bed half-unmade and his desk cluttered with empty cans. He stands a few feet away, tall and broad-shouldered, that fluffy pink taper haircut falling into his eyes as he watches you with a lazy smirk. You hate the way he looks at you—like he already knows you'll give in—but the ache between your legs has been building for weeks, and no one else will fuck you the way he does without pulling punches.

"Took you long enough to show up," he says, voice low and rough. He doesn't move closer yet. Instead he peels his shirt off slowly, revealing the hard lines of muscle across his chest and stomach. You swallow hard, refusing to let your eyes linger, but the sight still sends heat curling low in your belly.

"This doesn't mean anything," you mutter, voice tight. "I'm just... frustrated."

Sukuna's smirk widens. "Yeah, I got that." He steps forward but stops short, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off his skin. His hand lifts, fingers brushing your jaw without quite gripping. The touch is light, teasing, and it makes your breath catch. You want to shove him away, but your body stays rooted in place.

He leans in until his lips hover near your ear. "Strip for me. Slow." The command hangs in the air, and your fingers twitch at your sides. You hate how your hands move anyway, tugging your shirt up inch by inch. The fabric drags over your skin, cool air hitting your stomach first, then your chest. Sukuna's eyes track every movement, dark and hungry, but he keeps his distance. The tension coils tighter with each second he doesn't touch you.

Your pants follow, sliding down your hips until you're left in just your underwear. He exhales sharply through his nose, the sound almost a growl, but still doesn't close the gap. Instead he hooks his thumbs into his own waistband and pushes his pants down, revealing the thick outline of his cock straining against his boxers. The sight makes your thighs press together, but you force yourself to hold his gaze.

"Bed," he says, nodding toward it. You move on stiff legs, sitting on the edge rather than lying back right away. Sukuna follows, kneeling in front of you. His large hands settle on your knees, spreading them apart with deliberate slowness. The calluses on his palms scrape lightly against your skin as he drags them up your thighs, stopping just short of where you need him most. Your breath hitches, hips shifting forward on instinct, but he holds you still.

"Patience, goody two-shoes," he murmurs, voice laced with that familiar taunt. His fingers trace the edge of your underwear, dipping just beneath the fabric before retreating. The teasing touch sends sparks through you, and you bite your lip hard to keep from making a sound. He notices anyway, eyes flicking up to your face with a satisfied glint.

You reach for him then, hands sliding over the hard planes of his chest, feeling the muscle flex under your palms. Sukuna lets you explore for a moment before catching your wrists and pinning them gently above your head as he guides you onto your back. The bed creaks under your combined weight. He hovers over you, his body caging yours without pressing down fully. The heat of him is everywhere, his cock brushing against your thigh through the thin barrier of fabric, but he still doesn't rush.

His mouth finds your neck, lips dragging slowly along the column of your throat. Teeth graze your pulse point, not quite biting, just enough pressure to make you arch. One hand releases your wrist to trail down your side, fingers splaying wide over your ribs before cupping your breast. He kneads the flesh with firm but unhurried strokes, thumb circling your nipple until it pebbles under his touch. You squirm beneath him, the friction of his body against yours stoking the fire, but he keeps the pace measured, drawing out every sensation.

When his hand finally slips between your legs, it's over the fabric first. He presses the heel of his palm against your clit through your underwear, rubbing in slow circles that make your hips buck. The pressure builds gradually, wetness soaking the material as he works you over. You hate how responsive your body is to him, how the tension in your gut winds tighter with each deliberate stroke. Sukuna watches your face the whole time, cataloging every flicker of expression.

"Tell me how bad you want it," he says against your skin, breath hot. You shake your head, refusing to give him the words, but your legs spread wider anyway. He chuckles low in his chest and finally hooks his fingers into your underwear, tugging them down your legs with agonizing slowness. The cool air hits your exposed pussy, and you feel yourself clench around nothing.

Sukuna settles between your thighs, his broad shoulders forcing them apart. He leans in close, exhaling over your slick folds without making contact. The tease makes you whimper despite yourself, and his hands grip your hips to keep you from chasing his mouth. He drags his tongue along the crease of your thigh instead, tasting the skin there before moving inward with the same unhurried pace. Each lick and kiss builds the ache until you're trembling, fingers fisting the sheets.

Only then does he finally press his mouth to your pussy, tongue dragging flat and slow from entrance to clit. The contact rips a moan from your throat, and he hums in approval against you. He licks you open with long, deliberate strokes, circling your clit before dipping inside. The wet sounds fill the room, mixing with your ragged breathing. His hands hold you steady as he eats you out with focused intensity, never speeding up even as your thighs start to shake around his head.

You feel the orgasm building like a slow tide, pressure mounting with every pass of his tongue. Sukuna adds two fingers then, sliding them in deep and curling against that spot inside you while his mouth stays latched to your clit. The combination makes your back arch off the bed, but he doesn't let up or rush. He works you steadily, pumping his fingers in time with the flicks of his tongue until the tension snaps. Your pussy clenches hard around his fingers, pulsing as waves of pleasure roll through you. He keeps licking through it, drawing out every aftershock until you're limp and panting.

Sukuna pulls back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His cock is fully hard now, the head flushed and leaking as he shoves his boxers down. He lines himself up without preamble, the thick tip pressing against your entrance. But even now he pauses, holding there with just the slightest pressure, letting you feel the stretch starting without pushing in yet. Your hips tilt up, seeking more, but his grip on your waist keeps you in place.

"Look at me," he orders. You meet his eyes, seeing the same frustrated hunger reflected back. He pushes in slowly, inch by inch, the burn of the stretch making your breath catch. Every ridge and vein drags against your walls as he sinks deeper. By the time he's buried to the hilt, you're both breathing hard, the air thick with tension. He stays still for a long moment, letting you adjust to his size before he starts to move.

The first thrust is deliberate, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in at the same measured pace. His muscular body flexes above you with each stroke, sweat starting to bead on his chest. You wrap your legs around his waist, heels digging into his ass to urge him faster, but he resists, keeping the rhythm torturously slow. Each drag of his cock hits deep, the head nudging against your cervix before retreating. The friction builds steadily, reigniting the heat in your core.

Sukuna leans down, his pink hair brushing your forehead as he captures your mouth in a rough kiss. Tongues tangle, teeth clash, the kiss as intense as the slow grind of his hips. One hand slides under your ass, lifting you slightly to change the angle. The new position lets him grind against your clit with every thrust, sending sparks through your nerves. You moan into his mouth, fingers digging into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks.

He breaks the kiss to trail his lips down your neck again, sucking a bruise into the skin above your collarbone. His thrusts stay controlled, each one deep and purposeful, building the pressure without rushing toward the end. You feel another orgasm approaching, this one slower but no less intense. Your pussy flutters around his cock, walls clenching as he maintains the pace.

"Fuck, you're tight," he growls against your throat. His free hand finds your clit again, rubbing in tight circles that match the rhythm of his hips. The dual stimulation pushes you over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you in long, rolling waves. Your body milks his shaft, pussy pulsing as pleasure floods your system. Sukuna groans but doesn't speed up, fucking you through it with the same steady thrusts until your tremors subside.

Only then does his control start to slip. His pace increases incrementally, hips snapping harder as he chases his own release. The bed creaks louder with each thrust, his muscular frame pinning you down. You feel him swell inside you, the telltale sign that he's close. With a final deep thrust he buries himself to the hilt and cums, hot spurts flooding your pussy. He stays locked inside you as he rides out the aftershocks, breathing ragged against your neck.

When he finally pulls out, cum leaks from your well-fucked hole, trailing down your thighs. Sukuna collapses beside you, one arm thrown over his eyes. The room falls quiet except for your combined breathing. You stare at the ceiling, body sated but mind already spinning with the knowledge that you'll be back despite everything. The tension between you hasn't eased—it only feels more charged now, waiting to ignite again.

Thank you for reading my 67 warriors 💞

[da1ntyli1ly]

Secrets in pages..

Uhhh there’s some suggestive content so maybe 18+, but read at your own discretion 🦖

You and Tsukishima are academic rivals. You hate him and he hates you.. or at least you think he does…

The lecture hall buzzed with the usual low hum of students settling into their seats, but the moment you stepped through the double doors, the air seemed to shift. Your eyes immediately found him—Kei Tsukishima, slouched in his usual spot at the back, long legs stretched out, headphones around his neck, and that ever-present scowl carved into his sharp features. His golden eyes flicked up, locking onto yours for a split second before he looked away, jaw tightening like the mere sight of you was an offense.

You hated him. God, you hated him. The smug way he answered questions without even raising his hand, the way his grades always hovered just a fraction above yours, the way he never seemed to try yet always came out on top. Tsuki. That was the nickname you’d given him, dripping with venom every time it left your lips. He never acknowledged it, but you knew it got under his skin. At least, you hoped it did.

"Late again," he muttered as you passed his row, voice low and laced with that dry, condescending tone. "Some of us actually care about being on time."

"Some of us don’t need to kiss the professor’s ass to get ahead," you shot back, not even sparing him a glance as you slid into your seat two rows ahead. The tension between you two was palpable, a live wire crackling in the space that separated your desks. It had been like this for months—every class a battlefield, every interaction a clash of egos. You thrived on it, the way his words could make your blood boil, the way you could make his lips curl in that infuriating smirk.

Class dragged on, the professor droning about advanced literature theory, but your mind kept drifting. You could feel Tsuki’s gaze on the back of your neck, burning like a brand. Every time you shifted in your seat, every time you raised your hand to answer a question, you swore you could hear the faint click of his pen against his notebook, like he was taking notes on you instead of the lecture. It was unsettling, but you brushed it off. He was just obsessed with beating you. That’s all it was.

After class, you packed up quickly, eager to escape the suffocating atmosphere. But as you turned to leave, Tsuki was already there, blocking the aisle with his tall frame. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes—those sharp, calculating eyes—held something darker, something you couldn’t quite place.

"You missed a citation in your last essay," he said, voice flat. "Page three, paragraph two. Sloppy."

You bristled, clutching your bag tighter. "And you missed the entire point of the assignment. But hey, at least your grammar’s perfect, right?"

His lips twitched, almost a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "At least one of us has standards."

You pushed past him, shoulder brushing his arm, and the contact sent a jolt through you—anger, annoyance, something else you refused to name. "Fuck off, Tsuki."

He didn’t follow, but you felt his stare on your back all the way out the door. Little did you know, the moment you were gone, he’d retreat to his dorm, lock the door, and pull out his phone. There, hidden in a locked folder, was a gallery of photos—candid shots of you in the library, in the quad, even one from the back of the lecture hall, your head bent over your notes. His thumb would hover over the screen, breath hitching as he scrolled, his free hand already slipping beneath his waistband. He’d stroke himself slowly, eyes fixed on a picture of you biting your lip in concentration, imagining your mouth wrapped around his cock instead, your tongue tracing every inch while you glared up at him with that same defiant fire.

In his desk drawer, tucked beneath textbooks and loose papers, was a worn leather journal. Page after page filled with his handwriting—messy, frantic entries detailing every filthy thought he’d ever had about you. How he’d bend you over the library table, rip your skirt up, and fuck you raw while you spat insults at him. How he’d tie your wrists with his tie, gag you with your own panties, and make you cum so hard you’d forget every word of that essay you’d written. How he’d watch you sleep through your window, jerking off to the rise and fall of your chest, wondering what you’d taste like if he climbed in and buried his face between your thighs.

"I hate her," he’d written just last night, the ink smudged from his grip. "I hate how she makes me feel. I hate that I can’t stop thinking about her. I hate that I want to ruin her, break her, make her mine in every way that matters."

But you didn’t know any of that. To you, he was just Tsuki—the arrogant, insufferable rival who lived to get under your skin. And as you walked away from the lecture hall, you had no idea that behind those cold, golden eyes, he was already planning his next move, already imagining the next page he’d fill with your name and his darkest desires.

[da1ntyli1ly]

I'm craving a FAT smash burger with thin buns lost of cheese caramelized onions pickles and burger sauce.

18+ mdni kinda a part two to this.

You shove Sukuna backward until the edge of the teacher's desk bites into his thighs. Your mouths collide in a clash of teeth and spit, the kiss all fury and hunger. "I fucking hate you," you spit against his lips even as your fingers tear at his waistband. He laughs, low and vicious, then spins you around with one brutal twist of his wrist. Your body folds over the desk, soft belly pressing into the wood while his much larger frame cages you from behind. Pink hair brushes your cheek as he leans down, the heat of his muscular chest searing through your clothes.

Two thick fingers shove straight into your dripping pussy without warning. The stretch burns sweet and sudden, his knuckles grinding against your entrance while he curls hard against that swollen spot inside. Your knees buckle. You bite down on your own forearm to trap the moan that wants to escape. Outside the door, footsteps scuff closer—voices, laughter, the scrape of shoes on tile. Sukuna freezes, fingers buried to the hilt, the pads of them pressing steady pressure that makes your walls flutter helplessly around him. Your heartbeat slams in your ears. The voices linger, then drift away. The second they're gone he rips his fingers free and drives his cock into you in one savage thrust.

The desk creaks under the force. His massive cock splits you open, stretching your tight cunt around every thick inch until your ass is flush against his hips. He doesn't give you time to adjust. Each snap of his pelvis slams you forward, the impact rippling through your soft curves, making your thighs jiggle and your breasts mash against the desk. Wet sounds fill the empty classroom—skin slapping skin, your soaked pussy sucking greedily at him with every withdrawal. Your orgasm coils fast, heat flooding low in your belly, walls starting to clench—

He stops. Completely. His cock twitches inside you, buried deep, but he holds perfectly still. The denial hits like a slap. Your clit throbs untouched, your cunt pulsing around his unmoving length, desperate for friction that never comes. He stays there, letting you feel every ridge and vein stretching you, letting the tension wind tighter and tighter until your thighs shake.

More footsteps. This time they pause right outside the door. Sukuna's palm clamps over your mouth. He starts moving again—slow, shallow rocks that drag the head of his cock across every sensitive nerve without giving you enough. Your eyes roll back. Spit leaks between his fingers. You're right there, right on the edge, when he pulls out entirely. Cool air hits your exposed, swollen pussy. You push back instinctively, chasing him, but he just strokes his cock against the curve of your ass, smearing your own slick across your skin.

"No—fuck, please," you gasp the moment his hand leaves your mouth. The words tumble out raw. He chuckles, low and cruel, and drops to his knees behind you. His tongue drags flat and hot over your clit in one long, filthy lick. Your hips jerk. He sucks the swollen bud between his lips, tongue flicking fast and relentless for thirty torturous seconds—long enough for your vision to white out, long enough for your thighs to start trembling—then he pulls away. Your orgasm hovers, denied again, leaving you shaking and dripping down your inner thighs.

He stands. Rubs the fat head of his cock against your entrance without pushing in. "Tell me how much you need it," he demands, voice rough against your ear. Your pride fractures under the weight of three more edges. The words spill out broken and desperate.

"Please, Sukuna. I need to cum. I need your cock so fucking bad. Fuck me, please—"

He grins against your neck and slams back inside. This time he doesn't stop. One hand snakes around to rub tight circles over your clit while his hips piston hard enough to shove the desk an inch across the floor. Your orgasm crashes through you in a gush, pussy clenching and pulsing around him, slick running down his balls. He follows seconds later, hips stuttering as he floods you with thick ropes of cum, grinding deep until every drop is buried inside your fluttering cunt.

You're both panting when new footsteps approach. Sukuna yanks out fast, flips your skirt down just as the door handle rattles. You straighten on shaky legs, his cum already leaking down your thigh in a warm trickle. The janitor steps inside, nods once, and moves on. Sukuna tucks himself away, that same vicious smirk curving his mouth.

"Same time tomorrow?" he asks, already knowing you'll be there.

[da1ntyli1ly]

Puppy Yuji!

18+ mdni. Smut with no plot

Puppy Yuji will do anything to please you. Even if that means eating you out to oblivion

The apartment door clicked shut behind you, the weight of the day pressing down on your shoulders like a physical thing. Your bag hit the floor with a dull thud, shoes kicked off without care, and you barely made it to the couch before collapsing into the cushions. The silence of the space wrapped around you, thick and heavy, broken only by the soft padding of footsteps approaching from the hallway.

Yuji appeared in the doorway, his golden-brown eyes immediately locking onto you with that familiar, eager intensity. His messy hair fell across his forehead, ears perked forward, and his tail gave a tentative wag behind him. He was already on his knees before you could even speak, crawling across the floor with single-minded purpose until he knelt between your spread thighs.

"You look tired," he murmured, voice low and warm, hands already reaching for the waistband of your pants. His fingers worked the button and zipper with practiced ease, tugging the fabric down your legs along with your underwear in one fluid motion. The cool air kissed your exposed skin, but it was quickly replaced by the heat of his breath as he leaned in closer. "Let me take care of you. Please. I want to make you feel good."

You didn't have to tell him twice. Yuji's hands slid up your thighs, spreading you wider as he settled in, his nose brushing against your inner thigh before his tongue made the first slow, deliberate lick along your folds. He started gentle, almost reverent, the flat of his tongue dragging from your entrance up to your clit in long, languid strokes that sent sparks dancing along your nerves. His ears twitched at the soft sigh that escaped you, and he doubled down, pressing closer, burying his face between your legs like he couldn't get enough.

Minutes stretched into something timeless as Yuji worked. His tongue circled your clit with precise, teasing flicks before dipping lower to push inside you, fucking you shallowly with the wet heat of his mouth. He alternated between broad, sweeping licks and focused suction, drawing your sensitive bud between his lips and humming low in his throat, the vibration rippling through you like electricity. Your hips twitched involuntarily, but he held you steady, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he kept you pinned exactly where he wanted you.

"More," you breathed, and Yuji obeyed without hesitation. He shifted, angling his head to suck harder on your clit while two fingers slid into your pussy, curling against that spot inside you that made your vision blur. He pumped them slowly at first, matching the rhythm of his tongue, building a steady pressure that coiled tighter and tighter in your core. Your hands found his hair, fingers threading through the strands, and he leaned into the touch, whimpering softly against your skin like your pleasure was the only thing that mattered.

Time blurred. The apartment filled with the wet sounds of his mouth on you, the occasional gasp or moan that slipped from your lips as he pushed you higher. Yuji didn't stop, didn't slow, didn't even seem to need air—he licked and sucked and fingered you through one orgasm, then another, his tongue never faltering even as your thighs trembled around his head. Your clit throbbed, oversensitive and swollen, but he was gentle now, lapping at you with soft, soothing strokes that somehow kept the pleasure simmering just beneath the surface.

"Yuji," you whimpered, voice hoarse from how long he'd been at it, how many times he'd made you cum. Your fingers tightened in his hair, but he only pressed closer, tongue flicking faster, fingers curling deeper. "I can't—fuck, I can't take anymore."

He pulled back just enough to look up at you, lips shiny and chin wet, eyes dark with devotion. "Yes, you can," he said softly, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. "Just a little more. Let me make you feel good. Let me hear you."

And then he was back, mouth sealing over you again, tongue working in relentless, perfect rhythm until your head fell back against the couch and all you could do was whimper and whine, body shaking, mind blank except for the overwhelming sensation of his mouth on you. Yuji didn't stop. He wouldn't stop. Not until you were completely undone, until every flick of his tongue had wrung every last drop of pleasure from your exhausted body, until the only sounds left in the room were your broken, desperate noises and the wet, obscene evidence of his devotion.

[da1ntyli1ly]

Yo when am I gunna get this high

Plug choso and you cuddling on the rooftop (67)

uhhh no smut cos the 67 monster said so and um yh!😘

The city pulse beneath the rooftop felt different now—less like the frantic, neon-streaked heartbeat of a metropolis and more like a distant, rhythmic hum cradling the two of you in a bubble of cooling air.

You leaned your head against Choso’s shoulder, the cotton of his shirt damp against your cheek, smelling faintly of the sharp, piney resin from the joint and the warm, musk-like scent of his skin. The tremors that had recently radiated through you were now settling into a deep, vibrating lethargy that made every limb feel heavy, as if you were composed of molten wax slowly cooling in the night air.

Choso’s arm tightened around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His chest rose and fell in a slow, steady cadence, a grounding anchor in the haze that still clung to the edges of your vision.

"You still with me?" his voice rumbled, vibrating through his ribcage into your own. It was a low, gravelly sound, stripped of the playful edge it had possessed earlier, replaced by a raw, quiet tenderness.

You hummed, a sound that started in your throat and died off into a contented sigh. "Hardly," you whispered, the word feeling thick and unhurried on your tongue. "I think I’m currently drifting somewhere about three hundred feet above the skyline."

Choso let out a soft, breathy chuckle, his hand moving in slow, rhythmic circles against your lower back. The sensation was hypnotic, tracing the map of your spine until you felt you might melt right through the rooftop floor. He shifted, his legs adjusting to accommodate the weight of your body, and you could feel the subtle shift of muscle beneath his denim.

"Good," he murmured, pressing a lingering, soft kiss to your temple. His lips were warm, a stark contrast to the breeze that danced over the sweat-dampened skin of your shoulders. "Stay there. It’s better up here anyway."

You turned your face slightly, catching his gaze in the dim light cast by the city’s sprawling grid. His sleepy eyes were half-lidded, dark and unreadable, though the intensity that had driven him moments ago had softened into something resembling worship. He looked at you as if you were the only solid thing in a world that had suddenly turned to liquid.

The silence that followed wasn't the charged, heavy silence of the build-up. It was a comfortable, expansive thing—a space filled with the distant wail of a siren, the muted roar of an unseen train, and the steady, synchronized sound of your breathing.

"I didn't think," you started, then paused, finding the right words difficult to summon through the thick, comfortable blanket of your own exhaustion. "I didn't think it would be like this. With the lights. The sky."

Choso pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, his thumbs tracing the line of your jaw, his touch feather-light. "It’s different when you’re not looking at the ground, isn't it? Everything down there—the noise, the schedules, the expectations—it feels like a different lifetime."

"It does," you agreed, watching the way a stray strand of his hair fell over his brow. You reached up, your fingers clumsy but purposeful, and brushed it away. "I’m glad you texted."

A small, genuine smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, the kind that didn't hide behind irony or mischief. "I was worried you wouldn't come up. You’ve been so guarded lately, like you were waiting for the other shoe to drop."

You traced the outline of his collarbone, feeling the heat radiate from his skin. "Maybe I was. Or maybe I was just waiting for the right distraction."

"Is that all I am?" he teased, though his eyes lacked any real bite. "A distraction?"

"A very effective one," you said, shifting your weight so you could press your forehead against his. You were so close you could taste the lingering sweetness of the smoke on his breath, a flavor that had become inextricably linked with the feeling of his hands on your body.

He groaned, a low sound of pure appreciation, and pulled you closer still, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. "I could stay here all night," he whispered into your hair. "Just watching the city rotate while we do absolutely nothing."

"The wind’s starting to bite," you noted, though you made no move to pull away. You felt a shiver trace its way down your back, but it wasn't from the cold. It was the residual hum of the experience, the way your skin felt hyper-aware of every point of contact—the fabric of his jeans against your thighs, the steady, rhythmic pressure of his palm on your back, the way his heartbeat hammered a steady rhythm against your cheek.

"I’ve got you," he whispered, as if he had read the flicker of vulnerability in your movement. He draped his jacket over your shoulders, the heavy fabric instantly trapping the heat. The scent of him—tobacco, earth, and something uniquely, sharply Choso—enveloped you completely. It was like being wrapped in a cocoon, shielded from the vast, indifferent expanse of the night sky.

You closed your eyes, letting the world tilt. The city lights below began to pulse in time with your own fading heart rate, blurring into streaks of gold and violet. You felt an immense, overwhelming sense of gratitude for this patch of concrete, for the unexpected intimacy of the air, and for the man who had coaxed you out of your shell.

"What are you thinking about?" Choso asked, his voice barely a murmur.

"Just... how quiet it is up here," you said. "Even with the city going a mile a minute down there. It’s like we found the only place where the noise can’t reach."

"That’s why I like it," he said, his voice sleepy, fading toward the edge of consciousness. "It’s a sanctuary. Just for us."

You settled further into his arms, feeling the tension finally drain from your muscles, leaving you feeling boneless and blissfully empty. The haze of the smoke was beginning to thin, replaced by a deep, bone-weary contentment. You didn't want to move. You didn't want to descend the stairs, or unlock your apartment door, or engage with the reality that awaited you on the street level.

For the moment, the rooftop was a floating island, and you were its sole inhabitant.

Choso’s hold loosened as his own exhaustion took over, but he didn't let go. His hand migrated from your back to rest flat against your shoulder blade, his fingers splayed in a gesture of possessive comfort. He was drifting off, his breathing slowing until it was barely a breath, a rhythmic lullaby that mimicked the swaying of the distant buildings.

You watched the way the moonlight hit the rooftop, casting long, dramatic shadows against the brickwork of the stairwell housing. Everything looked softer in the dark, the sharp edges of the city’s architecture smoothed over by the night. You felt like you were looking at the world through a new lens—one that didn't focus on the flaws, but on the way the light caught the dust motes dancing in the air, or the way the cool breeze felt against your heated skin.

Your fingers curled into his shirt, anchoring you to him. It was a strange, beautiful thing, this sudden descent into vulnerability. You were usually the one with the walls up, the one who kept things at a safe, arm's length distance. But up here, with the stars obscured by the city’s glow and the air thick with the remnants of your shared high, the walls seemed to have vanished entirely.

You wondered if he felt it, too. This strange, fragile sense of being completely unmasked.

He shifted, his head falling back against the ledge, his eyes drifting shut. "Still here?" he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

"Still here," you repeated.

He didn't respond, his breathing deepening into the slow, rhythmic inhalations of someone slipping into a dream. You stayed awake a little longer, watching the city lights flicker like dying embers. You felt the phantom sensations of the last hour—the electricity, the touch, the release—rippling through your nervous system like an echo in a canyon. It was a memory being etched in real-time, something you knew you would carry with you long after the sun rose and turned this roof back into a mundane, gritty expanse of gravel and tar.

The wind picked up, swirling around the rooftop, but it didn't feel cold anymore. It felt like a cleansing force, clearing away the last of your reticence. You rested your head against Choso’s chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart, and finally allowed yourself to drift.

The city continued its relentless hum, a chaotic, unceasing machinery, but up here, in the sanctuary you had carved out of the night, there was only the quiet, the warmth, and the feeling of being exactly where you were supposed to be.

As your eyes finally succumbed to the weight, the last thing you saw was the skyline, a tapestry of brilliance that seemed to belong to you and Choso alone. You were drifting, floating in the space between the ground and the stars, caught in a hazy, content tether that anchored you firmly to the man beside you.

The night was vast, the world was loud, but on this rooftop, under the vast and indifferent sky, everything was finally, perfectly still. And as the remnants of the high faded into the dark, you let yourself sink into the quiet, trusting the strength of the arms around you to keep you from falling back to earth.

In the silence, you could almost hear the city sighing in rhythm with you, a companion in the night that understood the value of this moment. Everything else could wait. The morning, the responsibilities, the life you’d left behind at the bottom of those stairs—they were all a world away, filtered through the thick, beautiful haze of a night that had changed everything.

You slept, and for the first time in a long time, the world felt manageable, held together by the gentle, steady heartbeat beneath your ear and the cool, starlit air that surrounded you like a blanket. The rooftop was no longer just a place to climb; it was a destination, a point of arrival, a secret held between two people who had, for a few hours, found the center of the world.

Realising imma neva experience this is ticking me off

[da1ntyli1ly]

All images were found on pintrest!

Hi Lovelies!!!

This is my first post in the Gojo series that I’m working on I hope you enjoy!!

ℛ𝒾𝓋𝒶𝓁𝓈 𝒾𝓃 ℰ𝒸𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓈𝓎 જ⁀➴ ♡

𝐏𝗋ⱺᥣⱺ𝗀υ𝖾 ݁ ˖Ი𐑼⋆

The lecture hall buzzed with the hum of fluorescent lights and the scratch of pens on paper, but your focus sharpened like a blade as Professor Harlan's voice echoed through the room, announcing the final chemistry project pairings. Your heart raced, a mix of triumph and irritation, because there he was—Gojo Satoru, lounging in the seat two rows ahead with that infuriating smirk playing on his lips. You had spent the semester clashing with him over every debate, every grade, your intellectual spars leaving you breathless and secretly thrilled. Now, as Harlan paired you both for the scholarship-deciding research experiment, you felt a flush creep up your neck, with both frustration and something else you couldn’t quite identify, feeling your pearl necklace suddenly tight against your skin. You smoothed your white tulle petticoat skirt, the cream bows rustling softly, and gripped your notebook, determined not to let his cocky presence derail you. But as you stood to approach him, you baby blue button-up top clinging just enough to your curves, you couldn't ignore the way his piercing blue eyes locked onto you, stripping away your guarded facade with a single, knowing glance

Gojo leaned back in his chair, his snowy white hair catching the light like fresh snow on a winter's day, and patted the seat beside him with a lazy grin. "Well, if it isn't my favourite bunny," he drawled, his voice a low, playful rumble that sent unwelcome shivers down your spine. You sat stiffly, the warmth of his toned arm brushing against yours igniting a spark you desperately tried to ignore—his soft pale skin contrasted with the hard muscle beneath his shirt, and you caught a tinge of his clean, masculine scent, a mix of soap and something undeniably intoxicating. Your conversation quickly devolved into banter, his sarcastic jabs about your "perfectly pressed outfits" making your cheeks burn, but beneath the words, there was an undercurrent of something rawer. As he leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over your ear. Your body betrayed you; your could almost feel your beating heart quivering against the delicate fabric of your white camisole, a subtle ache building between your thighs. You crossed your legs, the tulle skirt whispering against your skin, but it only heightened the sensation, the in-between of your thighs throbbing with a forbidden pulse that mirrored the tension coiling in your core.

By the time you both left the hall, the air thick with unspoken challenges, your mind was left a whirlwind of competitive drive and emerging desire. Gojo's hand brushed yours as you walked, deliberate and lingering, his fingers tracing the back of your wrist in a way that made your breath hitch. "Can't wait to see if you’re everything you claim you are, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice laced with provocation, and you felt a surge of heat pool low in your belly, your body responding to the promise in his eyes. The rivalry that had defined you both was shifting, the lines blurring into something electric, and as you stepped into the empty corridor, the distant echo of footsteps fading, you wondered how long you’d be able to stay sane being partners with him. God knows it wouldn’t take long. However, thoughts that you probably shouldn’t be having alos led you to wonder how long you could resist the pull toward ecstasy with this walking billboard for sex. His presence was almost like a magnetic force drawing you deeper into the labyrinth of your own desires, when in reality you both were just stepping into the bustling chemistry lab for your first project meeting; not what the lustrous labyrinth your mind mustered up. The sterile scent of chemicals hung in the air, mingling with the faint warmth of his cologne. Wanting to look at anything but him, you glance down admiring your delicate baby blue button-up top, the fabric hugging your curves in a way that made you acutely aware of every subtle shift in his gaze. His piercing blue eyes flicked to your pearl necklace, tracing the way it dipped between the swell of your breasts, hidden beneath the white camisole, and a flush crept across his skin, but was just as quickly replaced with his default teasing smirk. Neither of you should be feeling these things especially when the scholarship was not long away, and you especially could not feel anything at all for him. You pulled out your meticulously organised notes from your bag, causing the cream bows on your tulle skirt to rustle softly. Gojo let out a low, breathy chuckle, leaning in closer than necessary. "Look at these—perfectly scripted, just like your outfits. Almost as if you're trying to prove you're not just book-smart but fashion-forward too," he teased, while looking at with a playful, shit-eating grin that egged you on. His breath was warm against your ear and stirring the hidden ache between your thighs. Your pulse scampered, a mix of irritation and that forbidden thrill surging through you, as you shoot back with a witty retort, matching his fire. "At least my notes won't be as messy as you and your fuckass ego is, Gojo—always doing the most to make a scene," you said, your voice stern despite knowing damn well that his closeness made your core throb with insistent heat; your pussy clenching involuntarily. His arm absentmindedly brushed yours again, the contact electric against your soft skin as he retorts continued. The banter only escalated, his cocky grin widening as he stepped even closer, his toned body radiating warmth that seeped into you, making it hard to focus on anything but the growing tension coiling in your belly. Hours pass and exhaustion finally leads the both of you to finally conclude the research, agreeing to continue at his place later on. Tired or not the blue eyed bum kept going with his sarcastic remarks which did nothing but feed the aching, lurching and undeniably soaked, monster in the meeting of your thighs. You swore could feel the dampness trickling down your legs as you curse your arousal, accusing its betrayal that mirrored the emotional tug-of-war inside you—guarded ambition clashing with the raw chemistry that threatened to unravel your resolve.

Hi again loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing this. This is only the prologue so stay tuned for the parts that may come in the future. I’m working on the series as well as a materialist so it’s easier to find the parts. Additionally English isn’t my first language so I apologise for any grammatical errors and any other mistakes that I might of missed. I’ve also included a tag list for someone who asked to be tagged in one of my previous posts so feel free to let me know if you want to be included. Other than that I hope you had a great time and any improvement suggestions and criticisms will be welcomed as long as you’re kind.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋆˚࿔: @anonymous123sm

Once again Ty for your time and I hope you have a great rest of your day!!! ദ്ദി◝ ⩊ ◜.ᐟ

- 𝕯ᥲіᥒ𝗍ᥡᥣіᥣᥣᥡ °‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡

[da1ntyli1ly]

𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞 ~ 𝐃𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 ˚⊱🪷⊰˚

Hi lovelies!!

Welcome to my little corner😝

On this page I’d go by 𝒟𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓉𝓎 ℒ𝒾𝓁𝓁𝓎 , I’m 18+, and I write about men pounding puhh cos that’s apparently my life purpose ❤️‍🩹🫰

I mainly write for female readers, because girls deserve to be the main character and that’s what I’ve always been comfortable with.

I don’t write a lot though I only write one shots here and there whenever I’m bored. I mostly use my page to hype other creators and writers up and occasionally provide some of my own sloppy pieces of work.

𝐓ɦ𝗂𐓣𝗀𝗌 𝚰 ᥣ𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍ⱺ ω𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾.✦ ݁˖

- JJK character x female reader

- Any characters from other fandoms / animes (please feel free to give any suggestions)

- Fluff🪷

- Angst 🥀

- Smut 🤑

𝐔ρ𝖼ⱺꭑ𝗂𐓣𝗀 ρᥣα𐓣𝗌✦ ݁˖

Currently I’m just prepping for K!nktober as well as some one-shots but please feel free to lemme know if there’s anything else you’d like to see 😉.

𝐓ɦ𝗂𐓣𝗀𝗌 𝚰 ωⱺ𐓣’𝗍 ω𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾✦ ݁˖

There are certain topics and themes I’m not comfortable writing, and I will always prioritise my boundaries.

If something makes me uneasy or goes against my values, I simply won’t write it. No debates, no exceptions.

This is a safe space for creativity, not discomfort.

These things include:

- Smut stuff: piss, scat, feet, beastiality, any kinks that I’m not comfortable with

- Anything too dark: pedophilia, incest, age play etc

- Anything I deem uncomfortable (please feel free to ask me if you’re uncertain)

𝐏ⱺ𝗌𝗍𝗂𐓣𝗀 α𐓣ᑯ 𝗌υρρⱺ𝗋𝗍 ✦ ݁˖

I’m writing for fun, not as a chore. So I won’t be super consistent, but I will try my best to post regularly.

I’m still very new to this, so kind support and gentle critique are always appreciated. I genuinely want to improve 🥹

Any suggestions? Drop them! I’ll always consider them and try my best to accommodate what you guys want to see.

𝐅𝗂𐓣αᥣ ꭑ𝖾𝗌𝗌α𝗀𝖾 ✦ ݁˖

No hate. No disrespect. No weird stuff.

We’re here to simp, scream, cry over fictional men, and have a good time.

If you’re kind, supportive, and a little bit delusional — you’re in the right place!!!

DISCLAIMER ALL THE CHARACTERS I WRITE ABIHT ARE AGED UP. I DONT WRITE ABOUT MINORS OR UNDERAGE CHARACTERS!!!!!

Obviously in the future this will be updated to accommodate the current changes and if you have any tips or suggestions to improve my about me page feel free to free to drop them

Lots of love 💞

— 𝐃α𝗂𐓣𝗍𝗒 𝐋𝗂ᥣᥣ𝗒 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟