Discover Top Posts Tagged with #sub!gaara

Naruto men sizes?

Like how big is their cocks? Do they show off because of their size? Like talking big game, teasing others for being small?

hell yeah! also pls don’t bully me for the inches if it’s like too out of this world 😭 i’ve never seen a dick irl so i genuinely wouldn’t know what right and what’s not 🤷‍♀️ (virgins write the best porn prove me wrong….)

naruto boys and their size

includes: kakashi, gai, yamato, jiraiya, naruto, sasuke, kiba, shino, shikamaru, choji, neji, lee, gaara, kankuro, sai

warnings: FILTH. NSFW. 18+ i honestly went over board and started writing about sex more than dick size 😭 but i’m sure yall will like it because it’s freaky 😛 also some sub!gaara sorry not sorry

not proofread!!!

Perdoe meu inglês, não sou fluente. Femdom onde Gaara está sobrecarregado de trabalho como Kazekage, então você vai ao escritório dele para ajudá-lo a relaxar e o monta até que ele esteja gemendo e implorando por misericórdia, com o pênis dolorido de tanta estimulação, depois de você extrair mais um orgasmo doloroso dele, com o bônus de obrigá-lo a lamber o sêmen da sua vagina inchada.

Translation:

"Forgive my English, I'm not fluent.

Femdom scenario where Gaara is overwhelmed with work as the Kazekage. You go to his office to help him relax, then mount and ride him until he's moaning and begging for mercy, his cock sore and aching from so much overstimulation. After you force one more painful orgasm out of him, there's the bonus of making him lick his own cum out of your swollen, dripping pussy."

love me a whimpering desperate man chat 🙂‍↕️

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The heavy wooden door to the Kazekage’s office clicked shut behind you, the sound echoing through the quiet, sand-scented room. The air was thick with the faint, dry aroma of desert parchment, ink, and the subtle metallic tang of Gaara’s ever-present sand. Moonlight filtered through the tall windows, casting pale silver stripes across the cluttered desk piled high with scrolls and half-written reports.

Gaara didn’t look up at first. His pale green eyes were narrowed in exhaustion, brow furrowed, red hair slightly disheveled from running his fingers through it too many times. The soft, whispering hiss of sand grains shifting restlessly around his hands filled the silence.

“Gaara,” you murmured, voice low and velvet-rough with command. “You’ve been locked in here for days. Enough.”

He finally lifted his head, the movement slow, and you saw the dark circles under his eyes, the tension in his jaw. “The reports… the alliances… I can’t just—”

You crossed the room with deliberate, measured steps, the soft click of your heels on the stone floor cutting through his words. Before he could protest further, you rounded the desk, swung one leg over his lap, and straddled him. Your hands cupped his cool, smooth face, thumbs pressing lightly against his cheekbones as you forced his gaze to yours.

“I said enough.”

His breath hitched sharply, warm against your palm. The sand around you both froze mid-air, then drifted harmlessly to the floor like falling powder. You kissed him fiercely, tasting the faint salt of his skin and the exhaustion on his lips, your tongue demanding entry until he melted, letting out a quiet, broken whimper that vibrated against your mouth.

Your fingers worked quickly, tugging open his robes. The fabric whispered as it parted, revealing his pale, lean chest—smooth skin already warming under your touch, nipples hardening in the cool night air. You freed his cock, already half-hard and twitching. It was hot, velvety, and pulsed heavily in your grip as you stroked him with firm, slick motions, thumb circling the sensitive head where precum was already beading, warm and slippery.

You stood just long enough to shed your own clothes, letting him watch. The cool office air kissed your heated skin, making your nipples tighten. Then you climbed back onto his lap, positioned his throbbing cock at your entrance, and sank down in one slow, deliberate glide.

The wet, obscene sound of your slick heat swallowing him filled the room. Gaara’s head fell back against the chair with a guttural moan, his fingers digging hard into your hips. “Nngh— so tight… fuck—”

You didn’t let him adjust. You rode him hard, hips rolling and slamming down with rhythmic force, the chair creaking loudly beneath you. Every thrust made wet, squelching sounds as your arousal coated his cock and dripped down onto his balls. The scent of sex—musky, salty, sweet—quickly overpowered the dry desert smell of the office.

“Look at you,” you purred, clenching around his thick, pulsing length. “The feared Kazekage, moaning like a desperate whore in his own chair. Does my pussy feel good squeezing you, baby?”

Gaara’s moans grew louder, raw and needy, his breath hot and ragged against your neck. His cock throbbed violently inside you, veins dragging along your sensitive walls with every bounce. Sweat slicked his pale skin, making it glisten under the moonlight. When he came the first time, his whole body seized, hips jerking up erratically as hot, thick ropes of cum flooded you. You kept riding through it, the wet sounds growing filthier, his oversensitive cock twitching and jerking with every merciless grind of your hips.

“Please—ahh—it’s too much—!” His voice cracked into a high, desperate whimper. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, his thighs trembling beneath you. His cock was painfully hard still, red and swollen, every drag of your walls sending sharp sparks of overstimulation through him.

You leaned down, biting his neck hard enough to leave a mark, tasting the salt of his sweat. “You’re going to give me one more. Be good and take it.”

You rode him faster, the slap of skin on skin echoing sharply, your swollen clit grinding against his pelvis with delicious friction. Gaara’s moans turned into sobs—broken, hoarse, and utterly wrecked. His second orgasm was ripped from him painfully: his cock pulsed weakly, almost dry now, each spurt sending visible shudders through his exhausted body. A raw, strangled cry tore from his throat as his hips twitched helplessly beneath you.

You finally lifted off him with a wet, lewd pop. His spent cock lay twitching against his stomach—angry red, glistening with your combined fluids, still leaking weakly. You stepped forward, straddling his face while standing over the chair, your swollen, dripping pussy hovering just above his mouth. The scent of sex was overwhelming now—your arousal, his cum, sweat.

“Open.”

Gaara obeyed instantly, lips parting, tongue sliding out eagerly despite his exhaustion. You lowered yourself onto his face, smothering him in your heat. His own warm, salty cum immediately dripped onto his tongue. He moaned loudly into your pussy, the vibration sending jolts of pleasure through your clit as he licked and sucked desperately—long, obedient strokes of his tongue cleaning every fold, swallowing his own mess with wet, filthy sounds. His nose pressed against your swollen clit, his hot breath panting against your sensitive flesh while his hands weakly gripped your thighs.

You rocked slowly against his face, fingers threaded tightly through his messy red hair, guiding him exactly where you wanted. “That’s it… lick it all out like a good boy. Every drop of your cum belongs inside me… and you belong to me.”

His tongue worked deeper, soft whimpers vibrating against you as he thoroughly cleaned your puffy, sensitive pussy. The overstimulation left his body limp and trembling beneath you, but he never stopped licking until you were satisfied.

Finally, you stroked his damp hair gently, voice soft. “Good boy, Gaara. Now rest.”

He let out a shaky, blissful sigh against your thigh, eyes half-lidded, body utterly spent, cock still twitching softly in the cool air. The office was silent again, save for the faint sound of his breathing and the distant whisper of sand outside.