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hiya! I'm nemo and this is where I reblog recs/tbr & selfship silliness♡ ♧MDNI 18+♧

[writing-nemo]

Nemo. Est '94. 18+. MDNI. I enjoy dark content and will not hide that fact. Don't like, don't read. Bye.

Also on ao3 as @nem0philistx

Current selfships~

Beyond Birthday x Nemo = Bemo (x Lawliet) = BLN

Chris Redfield x Nemo = Neris

Chuuya Nakahara x Nemo = Nechuu (x Osamu Dazai) = Onechuu

Sylus x Nemo = Sylmo

Shouta Aizawa x Nemo = Shoune

My works~

Zoro drabble.

Karasu drabble.

Divider by @strangergraphics

[hooneeyydroops]

18+ Best Friend Yūta has a crush on you <3

Warnings: 18+, aged up Yūta ofc, jerking off, Yūta is an absolute cutie, reader is so oblivious, minors do no interact.

A/n: my first time writing anything remotely smutty idk how to feel about it lol. i’ve had this in my drafts for wayyy too long 😭

Bsf!Yūta who has started to become more and more awkward around you: which was weird. You’ve known Yūta since his arrival at jujutsu high and he has never once been this awkward with you — but somehow this has changed.

Bsf!Yūta who blushes every time you’re a tiny bit affectionate to him. Whether it’s a hug goodbye or laying your head on his shoulder, he just can’t help it. He would stiff for a second and then boom — his whole face would turn red.

Bsf!Yūta who can’t function normally whenever you’re around. Hell, he can’t even focus on the movie you two had previously picked for your movie night — a silly, childish tradition that the both of you have kept even after graduating from jujutsu high.

Bsf!Yūta who can hear his heart hammering in his chest when you decided to straight up cuddle him. One side of your face was resting on his chest while one of your legs was on his; your arms and hands where lazily resting on his stomach, mindlessly drawing little circles on the fabric of his shirt.

Bsf!Yūta who feels like his whole body is being set on fire yet slowly wraps his arms around your figure. So bold of him. You, on the other hand, don’t really seem to be affected, not even one bit.

You are so oblivious to your guy best friend’s feelings!

Bsf!Yūta who jerks off in his bedroom to the thought of you after you went back to your apartment. He slowly spreads the precum leaking from his length and then gently wraps his hand around it, giving himself some slow, steady pumps. A breathy sigh leaves his mouth: God, he was wishing it was your soft hand doing it instead of his.

Bsf!Yūta who can’t stop thinking about you. What sounds would you make, your fucked out face, what would you like him to do to you, what would you do to him.

Bsf!Yūta who comes whining your name, hot ropes of cum wetting his bedsheets. He’s now laying down on his bed, face flushed, eyes half-lidded. His hair is a complete mess, some strands sticking to the sweaty skin of his body as his chest heavens slowly.

God he was whipped.

There might be a part 2 to this, just saying.

Dividers credits: @cursed-carmine

[writing-nemo]

Tw; implied miscarriage. Been working on my divorced! Aizawa x reader♡

[flwrbo]

biting izuku’s bicep

(a/n : fluff silliness, a hint of suggestiveness. i believe in bicep supremacy.)

izuku knew the type of day you had by the way you unlocked the door. it crowds around you, clinging onto every fiber of your being.

these were the days he knew he had to pull strings. play your favorite show, order you some food in and give you extra head scratches. he had the system down.

but tonight seemed different. it was so hard to pull you out of your mind, even if just a little. something from work must have been heavy on your chest.

well, izuku had always been good at improvising. he simply pulled you into his arms, cradling you as he reclined on the couch. the small pout you came home in was dissipating, even if only slightly.

he put on the show you couldn’t stop watching, smiling softly as he feels you relax into him. your steady breaths almost lull him to sleep, until he feels you shift just slightly.

then, a pressure. on his upper arm a few inches below the hem of his short sleeve.

you bite down gently, nibbling slightly.

he forces his attention onto your show, not thinking too much into it. until your teeth dig in just a little deeper, your tongue lathing the imprinted skin.

“what are you doing, bug?” he tilts his head down at you in confusion.

you simply hum and shrug. “snacking.” is the only answer you provide.

he exhales a little laugh, cutting himself off abruptly when you bite deep. not enough to cut, just enough to imprint.

a sharp inhale almost turns into a moan. “baby,” his voice husks. “don’t start something you can’t finish.” he warns.

something glimmers in your eyes briefly before it fades away into calm again. you simply giggle and turn your attention back to the tv, continuing to bite sweetly on your boyfriend’s bicep.

you can barely remember what was bothering you in the first place.

banner creds : @cursed-carmine

[pricesprincess]

price eating his cum out of reader

Post-sex, you discovered something new you liked.

"Look at her." John's rough thumb glided easily through your slick, cum-covered pussy, making you shudder with something close to embarrassment even though he just had you folded like a lawn chair and his cock buried so deep inside you, you swore he was in your guts.

You shifted on top of the mattress and squeezed your eyes shut while your fingers curled in the soft buttery sheets. On instinct, your hips bucked at the slight stimulation to your throbbing clit, and then there it was.

His tongue lapped at your hole, gathering the cum that dripped from you, so much so that he spit it back on your cunt, making it glisten under the bedroom light. "John!" You whined, grinding against his mouth, unable to stop. He chuckled against you and kept licking.

It was wet.

Nasty.

A filthy squelching sound echoed from between your legs with each expert stroke of your husband's tongue. He hummed like it was the frosting from a damn cupcake and ate it up happily. It was nothing like what you've heard from your friends, their husband didn't even give them a kiss after giving them a blowjob, and you get this?

Your back arched clear off the bed, enough so that a mini car could drive under it when he sucked on your aching bud before he flicked it, knowing just how to turn you into a mess, which he did gladly.

Strong arms hooked up and around your thighs to keep them spread wide open for him to devour you. His beard tickled you, making giggles mix in with the sinful moans that spilled from your swollen lips from so many stolen kisses as John wrecked you with his cock.

"I don't know—" You broke off with a high-pitched whine when another orgasm sent you into orbit, causing you to clamp John's face between your thighs and ride out your high, chanting his name like a broken record.

It wasn't until John pulled back to give you reprieve did you realize how hot it was to see his own cum on his beard with a smirk as he looked up at you through his lashes. "Have enough, princess?" He teased kissing your thigh before laying down, where he pulled you in a warm embrace.

Your face still felt hot as you buried it in his damp chest and huffed. "For now, we need water, and then we're going to go again." John grinned and slapped your ass in agreement.

ps: my asks are open for things like this slkfmbrt

[heartyluv]

Let's Press Play! ▷

summary ♡ losing your job takes a serious toll on you and when your roommate’s "co-worker" isn't able to make it for a stream, an unforeseen idea sparks

content ♡ camboy&roommate!valko/reader, livestreamed sex, oral(fem!receiving), p in v (obvi lolll), he calls you pup bc why not

wc ♡ 4.7K (WOWOWOWOW)

a/n ♡ SURPRISEEEE!!! this may not be good, not too much

Trying to find a job was hard.

Trying to find a job while also being unemployed was even harder.

But you swore not to be too hard on yourself when you knew well in your heart that you were trying your best. Doing such a thing served you no justice and only made what was already a stressful experience, even more difficult.

No one anticipates being grouped into their company’s massive layoff, not when they swore that they had been a good little sheep in the communism hamster wheel of meetings, late night projects, and stacks of paperwork. Though with luck almost as bad as a cursed cartoon character, of course life would play out in a way that delivers you such heavy-hearted misfortune.

So, as you step into your apartment, trying your hardest not to breakdown after another shitty interview and realizing that you’ve officially been jobless for nearly five months now, all you can think of is some good food and your bed that you plan to rot in indefinitely.

“You look exhausted,” Valko says to you from where he lounges on the couch. “Another bad day?”

You’ve been disassociating so much the last few weeks that you actually tended to forget that you cohabitated with another person. Rather than being able to sulk in your feelings and waste away from the never-ending disappointment, your roommate wasn’t exactly the kind of man to let you if he had any say.

When you decided to share a space with one of your closest friends, especially one with a personality as out there as his, you figured it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. Although it took you a few days to consider his offer, eventually you knew that the benefits were far too great and as time progressed, it proved to be a dynamic going strong for the last three years.

Where you kept to yourself and avoided the unnecessary, he was quick to speak up and make his voice heard. Truly, it was perfect.

You just never anticipated being the one who would be forced to hear it the more your frustrations and grievances became harder to mask.

You kick off your shoes and remove your cardigan in silence, intentionally ignoring him and focusing on whatever commercial that had put a pause to the media he was streaming.

“Am I asking for trouble if I say anything else?” he adds as you plop yourself down on the couch next to him and take a piece of beef jerky from the bag he’s nearly finished with.

“You're so greedy.” He raises a brow and tilts his head with confusion like a lost puppy at your comment.

“You do know that you’re the one eating my snack, don’t you?”

“I thought you didn’t mind sharing with me.”

“I don’t mind. Not at all.” He pauses his wildlife documentary, clearly ready to keep the conversation going and for all of his attention to stay on you. “But you’re the one raiding my stash and calling me names. Then you don’t even say hi. Do I mean nothing to you?”

“You just got this bag this morning and it’s already pretty much gone, dude,” you chuckle. “Greedy, dramatic, and sensitive.”

“You’re pivoting, you know? Not very good at being subtle about it either.”

You didn’t want to talk about it. You really, really didn’t.

You didn’t want to explain what he clearly already knew and didn’t feel like hearing the same reassuring words that weren’t doing anything to ease your constantly racing mind.

Valko leans over and snags the practically empty bag from you and tosses it somewhere out of your reach.

“What the hell is your problem—”

“You’re trying to shut me out again and I’m not letting you do that.”

“Does it kill you to not overstep?”

“That was so damn cheap.”

“How about add nosy to the list while we’re at it.”

“Concerned is more like it,” he corrects. “Why are you pushing yourself so hard when I told you to ease up? You do know that besides being your roommate, I am your friend. And friends don’t let their friends do and experience shit alone. You’re not doing this by yourself and I wish you stopped acting like you are.”

Already, you want to cry. Again.

The tears burn behind your glassy eyes and the uncomfortable tingle in your jaw makes it tick with the urge to let the waterworks flow freely.

Ever since you’ve been trekking through these unexpected hardships, Valko has been covering everything. Rent, groceries, utilities—the whole nine yards. He made you promise to not dip into your savings or to overwork yourself to try compensating for anything he wasn’t expecting of you.

What should’ve been relief had been a nightmare for you ever since.

You’ve always been able to have his back in some way, always have been able to be a dependable counterpart in your two-party pack. But ever since you lost your job, you’ve had to lean on him 100% and never have you ever felt so helpless.

Sure, his job does pay well. Very well, in fact. So much so that necessities and wants for both you and him were expenses he had no qualms about paying.

When he suddenly told you that he planned on seeing what it was like to be a camboy a few years back simply because he had the face and body for it, to say you were stunned was an understatement. At the time, he quite literally said one of his biggest reasons for contemplating such an idea was because he was “bored”. You weren’t one to discourage him if he had the confidence for it either.

Valko’s always been one to try his hand at something if he figured he’d be good at it. Combine that with his carefree-like approach to almost anything he sets his mind to, it shouldn’t be shocking that not only was he right in his assumptions of anticipated success, but he practically became one of the best known in the business what felt like overnight.

Working independently, it wasn’t long before agencies were reaching out and established workers wanted to work with him. Playing his cards right, he chose to remain solo, but when he partnered with the right people and produced the content the fans were begging for, his popularity and finances boosted exceptionally in record time.

To some extent, it’s been a rollercoaster for the both of you. He had to adjust to the recognition and demand while you had to do the same with all the things that could possibly come with the territory of having one of your closest friends be both your living partner and someone who has sex with others on camera.

You felt guilty for your lack of contribution irregardless of the reassurance he gave you and with the sincere look on his face, you were almost certain he could see it.

“We’ve already talked about this, Val.”

“So why does it seem like you still don’t get it?” He sighs, placing his hand on your head and making you turn it to face him instead of the coffee table like you’ve been doing this whole time. “It’s pretty bogus, if you ask me.”

He raises an eyebrow when you sit there silently with such a defiant expression, chuckling at the pouty lips and blank stare.

“Because you don’t get it. You’re not in my position, how could you even?”

“I don’t have to be. I know which one I’m in and I told you what it’s gonna look like until something changes. Nobody’s rushing you around here but you. Funnily enough, you’re the one that doesn’t see that.”

“Oh, you’re sooo inspirational,” you comment sarcastically as you drag out your words. You go to remove his hand from you. Ignoring the truth in his words helps you cope. “Let’s get this one a talk show.”

But he doesn’t let you discard his touch so easily, hand slipping down to the back of your neck to evade your move. He sees the way you tense as much as he can feel it, smiling to himself when your eyes widen and your lips press together.

“Nervous, huh?” Valko’s thumb swipes across your nape gently. “It’s always so easy to mess with you.”

He’s a friend. He’s always been a flirt. Don’t read too much into it.

“You’re so annoying. Get off me.”

“You think just because you’re wallowing in your emotions that I’d let you off easy?”

“Off,” you repeat, trying to shrug him away, but to no avail. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for work anyways? Isn’t that guy coming by? Caleb or whatever?”

Valko raises his arms in amused defeat as he follows your stern order. “He cancelled today. Had something come up. I was gonna tell you later.”

Then that meant… “What about the stream you have to do today?”

“I’m still doing it, just by myself. Probably won’t be as fun for everyone since he can’t make it, but I’m nothing if not resourceful.”

If they were truly present in your head, certainly the both of you would’ve been capable of hearing the gears turning.

You stay with the egregious thought for a minute—a long minute, actually.

Valko, a popular and overly loved camboy with copious amounts of supporters. A job where he makes and earns money in real time. Thousands of fans in one stream surely has to equal the same in revenue, at least somewhat.

You don’t have a job.

You need something to not feel so awful.

It’s quick and relatively harmless.

But this is your friend. This will change the dynamic drastically—forever. Maybe he could handle it, it’s just work to him after all. Another day in the “office”. But could you? Do you want to add more turmoil to your already raging flame?

“Can I...” You stop yourself.

Should you really be asking this? Are you ready for something so extreme and sudden? But the opportunity is sitting in your face and begging to be taken.

“Can you what? Don’t give up, I believe in you,” he jests, leaning into you slowly and close to nudging you with his shoulder.

You push him away immediately and ignore his exaggerated look of betrayal. “Could you be serious?”

“If you could finish your sentence, I can think about trying.”

Rolling your eyes and huffing out a shaky breath that he hears too clearly, you muster up the courage. Or whatever this kind of audacity is.

“What if… what if I take his… place?”

The room falls silent. Too silent. For a second, you think you might’ve actually stopped his heart.

“… What the fuck.”

Not what you were hoping to hear, but it’s a fair reaction nonetheless.

“We don’t have to show my face,” you urge. “I don’t want to show it at all, actually. Just hear me—”

“Are you insane? Absolutely not.”

He doesn’t get to shut you down like this. Maybe it’s the adrenaline coming from what you’re genuinely considering or the desire to make some kind of progress in something that’s been so dormant, but if he would just work with you.

“I’ve been feeling like shit for months, Valko!” He freezes at your voice raised so suddenly, gaze flickering between your clenched fists and avoidant eyes. “Maybe it’s just desperation. Maybe this is so irresponsible of me and… and m-maybe I’ll regret it in the future. But I can’t keep sitting here and failing, okay?”

“How many times do I have to tell you—”

Your head shakes immediately to swat away what’s supposed to be uplifting if you’d let him finish.

“I trust you. I trust you get where I’m coming from and why I’m trying to do this.” You move closer to him, trying not to let it sting when he watches you warily like you’re not in your right mind. “If you don’t want to do it with me, I rather you just say that. But… but I can do it. If you let me, Val, I can show you. Please.”

He tries to ignore the way his dick twitches from the softness that claims your tone. His sweatpants feel like they've suddenly shrunk three sizes and are suffocating him. But the way you cling to him, how you beg…

“I don’t want to take advantage of you being in such a vulnerable place, pup. That’s not my style.”

“You aren’t if I’m asking for it. I want… I want to feel like I’m doing something—that I’m helping and that I believe it in my own terms.”

His features soften. He’s always given you everything you wanted. How could he deny you when you come to him like this? Even with his concerns, he can’t ignore the temptation.

“… Nothing’s gonna change about us? You won’t run when it’s done?”

Your head moves side to side, decision firm and resolute. “I promise not to.”

It’s been hours since you had that conversation and only now were your nerves trying to get the best of you when the act itself was this close to happening.

Seeing Valko live and in his element was different from watching behind a screen in secret. Of course you watched him from time to time, it wasn’t abnormal to be curious. How could one not be?

Were you proud to say that you’ve seen your friend’s cock? Or that you’ve seen what he looks like when his strong thighs are covered in his cum? Or how he sounds when he edges himself for over an hour? No, not really. But you’d be lying if you said you regretted seeing or enjoying it.

The minute he started, having you sit beside him and out of view until it came time to do what the both of you were there for, his stream was flooded with donations, comments, and viewers, instantly.

It almost made you nauseous, seeing the number of watchers jump from 0 to 20, 500, then surpassing the thousands faster than you could blink. He gave them that flirtatious banter and cocky energy effortlessly, teasing a few supporters and playfully reprimanding others for their smutty dialogue.

This was easy for him, at least it had become so with time, and it forced you to observe with admiration.

He didn’t even have to do anything different outside of who he is naturally, simply sitting at his desk and staying dressed in the same comfortable attire you found him in after coming home.

There was something about Valko that you could never put your finger on, and that amplified as you paid close attention to the way he interacts with the people who love him and his body.

valsbabydoll: isn’t caleb supposed to be here today??

locawerewolf: can we get to itttt

valkosprincess: he’s so sexy, i’m dripping

“Don’t be mad at me,” he smirks, eyeing the way they urge him to reveal what he’s been holding onto. “But Caleb couldn’t make it tonight.”

You can already sense the kind of reaction he’ll get for telling them something so disappointing when their expectations were so high, but he continues with confidence. Whether it’s in you or him, you can’t tell.

“I’ve got something else you might like. Someone I know I will.”

Valko looks your way and throws you a reassuring wink, tilting his head for you to stand and come to him. Was it wise to read into his words or was all of this “on the clock”?

The camera’s been angled in a way that only shows your body from the chest down, keeping it safely away from revealing your face. Your body is completely covered in goosebumps, and the jitters are buzzing from your fingertips all the way to your toes.

Turning in his chair, he looks in your direction and caresses you from your ass to the back of your thighs. “Pretty, isn’t she?”

It takes everything to not let your knees give out as he feels on you so tenderly, switching from grabbing the flesh of your ass through your shorts to tracing his fingers dangerously close in between your legs.

“We’ll both do good for you tonight, so make sure you let her know how much you appreciate it.” His hand slips up your tank top from the side, making him grin when you twitch. “I think it’s about time we got started."

“When I’m touching you, you focus on me. They’re paying you to feel good, remember that.”

That’s what you try to keep in mind when Valko’s lips connect to the exposed part of your stomach. It’s what he told you after you reassured him for what felt like the hundredth time that you were not changing your mind. Besides safe words and mutual understandings set, he needed you to feel good. He needed you to have fun and he would put in all the effort necessary to ensure that outcome.

So instead of trying to see what his fans think of you, your body, and unexpected appearance, you fixate upon the warmth of his tongue as he leaves sloppy open-mouth kisses on your tummy and the strong arm he keeps wrapped around you so that you can’t slip away from him. You find your back arching the slightest into his affection the more he gives it and that alone was already surreal because of how natural it felt.

Your fingers cling to the soft strands on his head, running them through his scalp as stimulation for his own satisfaction and as a way to keep you grounded. All you have is the dimmed off-white light coming from his computer monitors and the lamp he has lit to see how he almost loses himself in catering to your torso alone. With you being so reactive to how he nips at your soft spots to make you whine and hiss with pleasure, he could see himself staying there for a very long time.

“Val… p-please” you whisper through a gentle moan when he hums against you in acknowledgment to the sounds you make in response the sensations.

“Don’t be impatient.” It’s ironic for him to taunt you this way when he says that with his sentence muffled since he won’t pull away. “Savoring my treats is what I do.”

He goes for your bottoms next, hooking his thumbs into them and slowly tugging them down whilst seemingly trying to leave an imprint of his lips on your skin.

deepspace4val ~ Donated 300 Chocos - take them off. panties too

The automated voice reading out the note attached to the gift makes Valko laugh and sends vibrations through you.

“Everyone’s just as eager as I am.” He looks into your lust-filled eyes, searching for approval and making a silent promise. Your quick and little nod is what he needs before pulling them down your legs completely and following them to the floor as he removes himself from the chair and falls to his knees.

He has your leg hooked over his shoulder fast, burying his entire face in your pussy as if he’ll die now if he doesn’t inhale you deeply from the source. You have to regain focus quickly and brace your palms to his broad shoulders as he pulls a hearty cry of pleasure from your unexplored depths.

The sounds of him licking and sucking you in such a place, feeling him groan and lap you up as if he’s been stranded in a desert—right here and right now, he owned you.

Donations were coming in waves as you looked out the corner of your eye through hazy vision. Watching your friend taste you like this for thousands to see… you wanted more. The way his jaw moved and how the muscle in it jumped the harder he worked to consume you was intoxicatingly addictive.

“I’m gonna… w-wait. Hold on…!” You try warning him, but your pitched cries and nails digging into his skin is his reason.

Valko sucks your clit into his mouth the more you squirm, focusing all his attention on the swollen bud that pulses against his tongue as his mouth is flooded with your sweetness. He then widens and flattens the muscle along the slit of your puffy cunt, forcing you to nearly hunch over from the dizziness of his overwhelming gluttony.

You can’t utter another word when the tip of his tongue slips into your quivering hole. That and his nose nudging against you is what has the expert holding you by the ass to keep you rooted on his greedy mouth that sucks you dry when your orgasm confiscates all your senses.

You’ve never wailed from such a thing this loud in your life—ever.

“Even better than I expected.” You can’t tell if the glow on his face is from your slick or the fact that he’s thriving off your essence. It’s like he’s almost in disbelief himself. “Fuck, I’m so hard.”

imcumming77 ~ Donated 500 Chocos - fuck her already, i can’t last long

0rgasmsRlife ~ Donated 450 Chocos - i wanna see her tits

“What a coincidence. So do I.” Even breathless and covered in you, he’s still so cheeky.

He presses another kiss to his new favorite place, leaving a trail as he begins to stand. Your shirt rises with him until it’s off completely and a nipple is claimed by him immediately.

“Ah—Hold… Mmph, Valko, that’s s-so…” You’re incoherent now and leaving you speechless has become his guilty pleasure.

His cock brushes up against you and you feel just how much he’s been holding back. Taking his time to tend to you, to relax your mind and body to be ready for both him and this experience, you realize now you could never repay him for something of this magnitude. But, you’d be a liar to say you’d never try.

With newfound boldness, you snake a hand past his elastic waistband and into his pants. As soon as your hand wraps around his cock, you give all the attention to his leaking tip that now creates the same mess in your palm as it’s done all over him.

“Trying to kill me?” he rasps, nose buried in your neck as if your scent will keep him from truly collapsing. “Goddamn, y-you… shit, that's good..”

You look at the screen again and this time he does the same to see what everyone else does. His cum just barely seeps through his pants and the motion of your hand taking care of him underneath sends shivers down his spine.

Your tits glisten with his saliva and having your naked body on display for so many to see yet it only being for him to touch and feel is a reality he can’t quite believe, but he yearns to stay there.

“Not like this.” Although they can’t see your face, it’s clear to everyone when he claims your lips. The taste of yourself flooding your senses and his eagerness to make you savor both it and him, were dizzying. His teeth tugging on them and licking away the dull ache until he pulled away only left you craving more.

Valko takes your hand, bringing you close as he sits in the same chair that he was before everything began. His cock stands tall, thick, and completely flushed in the prettiest pink. He strokes himself a few times while his other hand fondles one of your tits, then flicks a nipple with his thumb while teasing his slit with his other. Only when precum beads and slowly falls down the side of his length does he guide you to stand in between his legs.

“Ready when you are.” Sitting back and waiting for you to make the next move, Valko leaves the ball in your court.

His hands know what to do as you climb into his lap with no hesitation. He looks over your shoulder to see how erotic it truly is and if he were a viewer, he could see himself going bankrupt if it allowed him to witness you spread out with a dick primed and ready to slide into you.

“H-help me,” you plead shakily, wrapping your arms around his neck and holding onto him with an unrelenting embrace. He kisses your shoulder and runs a hand down your back almost lovingly.

“Lift your hips,” he murmurs, placing a kiss below your ear.

The donations were still coming is droves as he grabs his cock and lines it up with your dripping entrance. Valko teases everyone including himself, pushing pass your pussy lips but not fully sinking into your warmth. Rather than continuing to wait impatiently, you work your body to meet him and guide yourself down with an unspoken eagerness.

“That’s it, pup,” he coos, teeth gritting the more your pussy swallows him inside and shapes around his dick to the hilt. “Let them see you take it in good since you can’t wait. Easy… there you go, you’ve got it.”

Your uneven breath fans against his ear and your cunt clenches around him over and over like an unforgiving vice. He takes the lead for you now, his large hands grabbing you by the hips then snaking down to the underside of your thighs.

The first stroke was capable of turning him into a pussy drunk fool. Thousands watch how your juices coat his cock and his cum being dragged down to form a creamy ring at his base.

“More,” you mewl. “Keep—nngh, g-going, Val…”

He couldn’t give a damn about who was watching at that point. In fact, he couldn’t say that he ever did after you graced him with a chance to have you like this.

You’ve always been on his radar yet something he considered untouchable. He respects you, values the things that you say, do, and think. Rejection wasn’t what deterred him from trying but the potential for you to demand any kind of separation, did.

Now that he’s had a taste, good luck trying to act like he’ll never want it again.

Valko grabbed you as securely as he could before he began drilling into you from beneath, his heavy balls slapping against you every time you sunk all the way down. Every viewer was bound to be staring at how you fucked yourself on him and attentively listened to the sounds of both of your ragged breaths and desperate yet filthy panting.

“So damn tight,” he praises, licking the outer shell of your ear and grabbing you harder with promises of marks that you’ll undoubtedly be embarrassed to look at once your high subsides. You were ridiculously soaked for him, and it just wouldn’t stop. Obscene squelches and constantly meeting skin slickened with sweat echoing in his bedroom was enough to prove the heights of your arousal if the visual alone wasn’t enough.

daydreaminlongevity ~ Donated 1000 Chocos - cum in her. don’t waste it

“It’s okay.” Your pussy tightens around him again with anticipation. “I want it… I can take it.”

He brings you in closer as he feels his orgasm coming quicker than he expected it to. His muscles bulge when he envelops you in his embrace, keeping the same breath-stealing momentum as your voice and body shakes uncontrollably from his lack of control.

All it takes is four more deep thrusts before you’re collapsing onto him from exhaustion and feeling the rush of his cum spill into you. You’re held down so that as much as possible stays inside your sensitive cunt, and you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck until the rush washes over.

More people than you could imagine are watching how your thighs shake and your pussy quivers around him. They can see how he raises you just enough to display how his cum overflows and spills out. You both were a mess and all they wanted was more.

*************** ~ Donated 2000 Chocos - again again again

********* ~ Donated 1200 Chocos - eat it out of her

****** ~ Donated 3000 Chocos - can we get a different angle?? i wanna see her better

All the automated messages flowing in has your body on fire more than it already was.

“Seems like I’ve got competition.” Valko’s hand outlines the curves of your body as he lets you rest. “You hear how much they love you, pup?”

You nod. “Again. I wanna go again, too.”

How could he not fulfill such a request? This time though, he planned to show you firsthand for why he was so highly favored.

Could you keep up?

a/n: i was sitting on this for daaays 😭 and i dunno if it’s actually any good.. but i didn’t wanna say anything in case i didn’t finish it lmfaooo BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOYED, MY CUTIES!!!

creds to @/angeliicide for the bratz dividers & @/astroyosei for the lily divider!!

[mrs-kurooo]

⟢ valko x reader

⟢ genre: fluff/comfort

⟢ wc: 1k

⟢ a/n: accidentally deleted it earlier so here it is again 😗

A soft smile curls at your lips as you gaze upon his sleeping face, two pointed ears peeking out amongst the strands of reddish hair, twitching towards your fingertips as you lightly caress one. Valko’s nose scrunches, and a little whine escapes his throat. You hold back a giggle at his reaction, endeared by how he’s no different to an affectionate puppy even as he slumbers.

Your hand scratches at the base of his ears before gently drifting down. You trace his handsome features. His bared forehead, the perfect canvas for kisses. His closed eyelids, hiding eyes that sparkle like shards of amber in the afternoon light. His straight nose that always finds its way into your neck or hair, always inhaling your scent so deeply, as if he's taking a breath of fresh air. And his lips too, soft, pillowy beneath your fingertips, the lower lip fuller than the top– lips that had spent all night kissing you, shaped around the contours of your name, smiling at you with a warmth not unlike sunlight.

Those same lips part around an exhale and you withdraw your hand a little, warmed by his breath. He shifts under the sheets, curling towards you, the arm draped around your waist tightening and tugging you close to his broad chest. His body feels almost feverishly warm, but it’s pleasant on this cool morning. A low hum vibrates in his chest as he begins to stir, nuzzling your hair sleepily and planting a kiss there.

“Where are you going,” he mumbles.

You scratch the short, fuzzy hairs at the back of his head. “Nowhere, silly. Been right here all morning.”

Valko grunts, dissatisfied with your answer. “Liar. You were far away. Left me all alone.”

“I think someone was dreaming,” you whisper, poking his nose.

“Hm. Maybe,” he says. Then, more quietly, “it felt real though.”

“Oh?” Twisting in his grasp, you move to look at him. He squints back.

“Mm. Someone took you from me. Or took me away from you?” He shakes his head, as if to clear it. “I don’t know. AllI know is that you kept getting further and further away from me.”

“Aw, baby. I’m not going anywhere,” you tell him, cupping his cheeks.

“Damn right,” he says, turning his head to kiss your palm before his tone turns flirty. “You could never leave all this.”

“Same goes for you, mister,” you say. “You’re not allowed to leave either.”

“Wouldn't dream of it,” he says with a lopsided smile, one of his wolf ears flopping down as he does so. The two of you settle down again, snug in one another’s arms. 

After a few moments of quiet, Valko’s hand pauses in playing with your hair. “What would you do if I did?”

Your brow furrows. “Why? You’re not planning on turning tail already, are you?”

“‘Course not, baby. Just wondering.” His hand resumes combing through your hair thoughtfully. 

“I’d be upset, obviously. We’ve only just started properly dating, and I…” You trail off, shy all of a sudden. 

“What?”

Clearing your throat, you try again. “I… Well, I really like you. So it would hurt to see you go.”

Valko’s face breaks into a wide, cheeky smile, pointy fangs on full display. “Ohooo, so you like me, huh?” he teases, wiggling his thick brows at you. “How much?”

Heat blossoms in your cheeks, and you struggle to meet his eyes.  “Valko!” you whine.

“Someone’s getting flustered!” he sings, all too entertained by your reaction. You quickly hide your burning face in his chest, letting it muffle your words, but he still hears you perfectly when you finally decide to speak up. 

“A lot,” you admit. “Too much. Way too much.”

“Too much, huh?” 

You look up at him with a scowl. “Yes! I mean, you’re a wolf, for crying out loud! That’s not normal, is it? I shouldn’t like you this much!”

“Hey, you got a problem with us wolves?” he frowns, ears drooping slightly.

“No!” you say, backtracking with a shake of your head, wanting to soothe him the minute you see his expression fall. “It’s just- well. You don’t get the average person dating a person that sprouts ears and a tail and howls at the moon, y’know? I guess, I just wasn’t expecting to ever be in this sort of situation. I’m still getting used to it.”

“When you put it like that, it makes sense. But also,” he adds, pausing for effect.

“What?”

He nuzzles your nose with his, a warm, honeyed smile curving at his lips. “I feel the same way about you. So it’s okay.”

You melt at his words, scratching his ears again to enjoy the way his eyes flutter and how he chases your touch so eagerly. Endeared, you coo, “do you have any idea how cute you are, Val?”

Before he can respond, you lean in and quickly press a kiss to his lips, catching him off guard. You giggle at the surprise on his face, but it’s short lived because he quickly twists onto his back with you in tow, pulling a shriek from your lips. He holds you tightly against his chest, smirking up at you with his golden, lidded gaze.

“If I'm cute, then that makes you the most adorable person to ever walk this earth.”

“It does not,” you argue, rolling your eyes. 

“Does too,” he says.

“Says who?”

“Me, obviously.” His face is mere inches from yours, and you can feel the strong, steady beat of his heart pressed against yours. He closes the space between you easily, kissing you so softly you wonder how this same man is also a beast. His thumb caresses your cheekbone when you pull back, gazing at you with a look so tender it bleeds into longing. “And don’t you ever forget it.”

“You’re silly, Val,” you say softly, looking away bashfully. Valko turns your gaze back to his gently, wearing a serious expression.

“I mean it. Don’t you dare forget how much you mean to me. Even if this world decides to one day keep us apart, it won’t change a thing.”

You whisper his name, like you’re scared those words might actually come true if you speak too loudly. “I won’t,” you tell him, tucking your head under his chin as he holds you. “I promise.”

[lvl1l1]

Valko is convinced he’s being subtle.

He’s “just stretching” when he reaches over and pulls you into his lap while you’re trying to fold laundry. He’s “just making sure you’re warm” when he wraps his big arms around you and tucks you against his chest. He’s “just checking” when he leans down to nuzzle the top of your head for the fifth time in ten minutes.

You’re not even mad. How could you be?

Especially when his tail is wagging so hard behind him it’s practically creating a breeze, and his ears keep twitching happily every time you relax into him.

“You’re clingy today,” you tease, tilting your head back to look up at him.

“Am not,” he mumbles, but the way he immediately tightens his hold around your waist says otherwise. He buries his face in your neck, breathing you in like he needs it to survive. “Just like having you close. That’s all.”

You giggle and reach up to scratch behind one of his ears. The second you do, a low, happy rumble vibrates in his chest and his tail starts thumping even faster against the couch.

“Uh huh. Sure, big guy.”

He pretends to huff but ends up pressing a bunch of soft kisses along your shoulder instead, tail still going crazy. You’re both smiling like idiots.

Eventually he pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes soft and warm.

“…Can we stay like this a little longer?” he asks, suddenly shy.

You melt instantly, cupping his face and pulling him down for a proper kiss.

“Of course, baby. As long as you want.”

Valko’s tail does a full happy spin behind him as he tucks you closer again, perfectly content being your personal radiator.

[myntrose]

post-knot pillow talk

a/n : some valko smutty/sugestive fluff to help distract from the emotions. take a break, drink some water, and enjoy. inbox open for anyone who needs it 💚

"angel- please, if you keep moving like that...," valko hisses out. he's still extremely sensitive, with the way his knot is keeping you locked in place.

"not my fault! I didn't realize a knot meant... you know...," you mutter. valko raises his brow, in a way thats both exasperated and endearing.

he's got you on top of him, your chest against his, one arm firmly around your waist with the other drawing lines up and down your spine. right after you came, he made sure to adjust you both, whispering to get comfortable, since you'd be stuck like this for a while.

just an hour or so earlier, you'd asked him if him being a werewolf came with the, well, perks, of being a werewolf. you've seen the way he acts- the way he bites to nip and bite you with those fangs of his, how he's utterly obsessed with your scent, and while he'll forever deny it, you've heard the little yips he makes when you brush out his tail.

and well, it's safe to say that valko is more bite than bark (though... you experienced a lot of both with the way he was pumping you full and making you see stars).

"you didn't think I was serious when you asked me if I had a knot?" he's saying it a bit to smug for your liking, so you retort with shifting just a bit- clenching just enough for him to groan out, both hands finding your hips and gripping.

"so,"

"so."

you both stare at each other, before letting out a small laugh. the kind of giggle that comes from that post-sex bliss. valko's tail curls from underneath him, lazily grazing the back of your thighs. it's a content state of being- close in a way that you literally couldn't be closer in.

"hey val? how long does your... last anyways?" you ask, your own hand reaching out to softly scratch the base of his wolf ears. valko hums softly, head moving to the side to lean into your touch. his nose rubs against your wrist, a spot that he's once said is really strong with your scent.

"the swelling can go down from anywhere between 15 minutes to... an hour I think?" your hand stops in his ears, eyes going wide at the revelation. sure, you might've read about it, seen it in books you've read, but the daunting reality of it all?

valko smirks at your flustered reaction, his hand reaching up to yours and bringing it back to pet his ears.

"give or take, by the way," he says casually.

your head plops back down, right in the crook of his neck. valko's laugh- deep and breathy and so him rumbles from under you. he wraps his arms around you once more, getting rid of the already nonexistent space between you two.

in his arms, you both talk about everything and nothing. you give him small updates from your life, books you've read, that new show you're watching. he listens- really listens- and tells you stories about his family, how he needs to get his glasses adjusted, about the new tech piece he's working on.

it's sometime it the depth of night when his knot starts to slowly soften up. he kisses you, gently and soft in ways that go deeper than i love you, though he means that just as much.

his knot slips free eventually, but neither of you make haste to move. he'll prep a bath, the sheets will be remade. but right now, all that exists is the wolf and his dearest love.

"meadow, i thought you said you were taking a break-" im coping. im sad and emotional and just want meet my wolf and see my dragon again. take care of yourselves, everyone.

[madamechrissy]

Mdni - ❥ Valko and his scent kink

"So... who ya texting?"

Valko asks it all casually, clacking away at his laptop as you sit on the couch, one of your legs right next to his shoulder, brushing it a bit.

He tries his best not to sink his teeth into the plush of your thighs, eyeing it as his cock starts throbbing. He tries so hard not to snatch your phone up and throw it, demand your damn attention, sniff you.

It's especially hard not to sniff you when you smell so fucking sweet, ruining him every time he is alone with you - which is often, given the assignment you two were on together. That and you have become friends, which he doesn't wanna fuck up with the wolfish way he wants to claim you.

Bite you, mark you, make you his.

Breed you-

"It's just Caleb," his eyes narrow behind his glasses now, looking right at you. "What? He is in town."

"Uh huh... Caleb," he repeats- he knows his ass is obsessed with you. Who could blame him, really? But you should be paying attention to him right now.

Not Caleb!?

"Well, what's he saying?"

"He was asking to come to dinner and... ah! Did you just bite me!?" He growls before he can stop himself, his teeth sunk into your thigh. You suck in a breath, smacking at him. "You bratty dog!"

"I am not a dog," he grumbles, smirking at the glittery teeth marks on your skin. "Tell him you are busy."

You blush when he sets down the laptop, spreading your thighs and kneeling, his ears twitching as he looks up at you - your heart hammers in your chest.

"Oh. Should I?" You tease, breathless when he slides his hands up. Sharp nails press against your delicate skin.

Leaning forward, he is far too close, inhaling your skin, breath against your inner thigh, making your pussy drenched.

"Valko..."

"Tell him. Now, sweetheart," he murmurs, done with pretending.

He needs you.

He can smell your juices, see the darkening of your panties when his pretty eyes flicker to your cunt. Pushing your thighs further, you drop the phone.

"Ah-ah," he bites your other thigh. Your hands come to tug on his fluffy ears, making his tail twitch side to side. Cock leaking. "Tell him you're busy."

"Fuck, okay," your shaky hand picks up the phone, your eyes getting lidded when his nose brushes your pretty pussy over those panties, you suck in a breath at it, fingers faltering. "mngh..."

"Tell him," he says in a soft little hum, inhaling you again, palming his cock to adjust it, feeling it swelling with how badly he wants to devour you. "If you wanna cum, you will."

"Fuck you're a brat," you mumble as he tugs you closer, shoving your knee up over his shoulder, nose inhaling your cunt again. "Are you gonna just sniff me !?"

"Till you answer," he sighs. "I could do this and cum."

"Freaky wolf, ah!" He bites your inner thigh, your juices just slippin' down further, in rivulets against his face, his glasses fogged up with his breaths. "F-fine."

Sorry Caleb - I'm busy tonight.

You show him the screen, and he smirks, a curve of his lips.

"Good girl."

Fuck.

Valko tugs your panties aside, looking at the mess your cunt is and moaning at the sight, tongue hot as it laps you from your ass to your clit, then back down, not just tasting - he's fucking lavishing you, spit soaked tongue dragging through your folds. "V-Valko I..."

"Good, good, good... good girl you're s-so... good," he's gripping you bruisingly now, slurping your messy, needy hole, the juices just pouring - his adam's apple bobs as he gulps you down, his glasses just slightly askew from the way he's drinking you. "Taste s'good... fuck..."

He could almost cum from the taste alone, greedily dragging his tongue from your slutty, quivering hole to that twitchy clit, all while you're gripping his hair with one hand, the other rubbing his ears. It feels so good as he lets you coat his taste buds, watching your eyes roll back in your skull.

You shatter so fast, but he's not even trying to make you cum - he just needs your taste, he needs your scent, biting your clit before he can stop himself, the action having you squirt right down him, all over his sweater and his collar. He laughs softly as you whine out, arching your hips, thighs quivering.

"Please... in me, mngh..." You see his slick face and blush, the dark mess you made on his sweater apparent as he takes it off, standing, his cock leaking through his sweats.

You go to touch him but you don't get a moment, he's got you turned and bent over the living room table, that sweater of yours gripped in his huge hands, claws ruining the material without him meaning to. He spits right on your cunt just to make it even messier, it's so wet she doesn't even need it, laughing as you arch, thighs shaking.

The phone goes off.

Valko hums a bit, looking at the message.

"Aww... he misses his 'pips'. Cute," Valko laughs, lost now - he's not the goofy little jerk you're used to, not when he's lining his reddened tip with your hole - no, he's feral. "Should we show him how you're doin'? Hmm, sweetheart?"

"N-no, psycho," you're wetter at the idea, and he notices, rubbing his tip up and down your slit, torturing you as you arch, begging for more. "In me, in me... in - ah!"

Valko slides his veiny, thick cock deep, his tail wrapping around his body and tickling you as he groans, head falling forward, that heavy weight pressing you down. He's as big there as he is everywhere, his grin against your skin felt before he bites your neck, shoving in fully.

"S'deep... you're..."

You're a babbling mess when he pins you there, twitching inside you, cock dragging your sweet spot and kissing it over and over again. You're a drooling mess the more he moves, the more his cock rocks in and out, thickening and swelling impossibly.

"Should call him, huh baby? Let him hear your cunt he wants s'fuckin' bad," Valko can't stand it then, thinking of anyone with the girl that should be all his, every instinct on fire. "All mine, yeah baby? Breed your messy cunt till you're all mine, can't even talk, can you?"

"Mhm," you're shattering when he fucks you faster, meaner, a hand on the table bracing himself as he bites your neck till blood drips, lapping it up so his lips are crimson, moaning against your skin. "Valko... please..."

"I'll give it all to you," he's sinking his teeth again - marking you his, ones he hopes last and last, as his cock is soaked, and your tacky walls are milking him. "Fill you so full, won't be able to see anyone, will you?"

You shatter with one more drag of his fat tip, and that's when it pushes him over the edge, his knot swelling as his cum fills you to the brim, coating your walls in white. He's biting your shoulder, your neck, your arm, everywhere he can, as that fat knot stretches you, hurting so bad you're in tears - but fuck it feels good.

"So much... s'much, V-valko..." you whimper as he moves that knot, kissing all the places he's marked you, moaning softly. His tail twitches as it tickles your skin, his ears curving down.

"Perfect, f-fuck you're so... oh baby I don't think it'll go down I..." He's never had this happen, not being able to calm it down, locked and knotted so thick in your tiny cunt. He keeps kissing you, moving back a bit, hearing your little sharp breath. "Want me to keep this cum plugged inside you? Hmm, breed you, baby?"

"Yes, yes," you're drooling, looking at him with dilated eyes, all covered in his marks. "K-keep it all.. in ... your knot it's so..."

"Mhm, I know baby," he's soothing you even as he rocks it in just an inch - back and forth, until he's pressing all his cum right against your puffy lil cervix.

You're cummin' again and again, but what you don't realize is...

Valko left Caleb all of that on a voice message </3

****

hehe sry Caleb

[neiptune]

cw: female reader, nsfw, period sex, fingering, head (f!receiving), blood, do not look at me and don't you dare perceive me

oliver is well aware he's kissing you in a way a friend with benefits shouldn't.

he's been kissing you for what feels like hours and is trying his damn hardest to not let the fact that you're both so worked up over a simple makeout session hold any special meaning at all.

"I may be wrong but I think you missed me", you offer a playful little smirk, "or, well, he did", the tiniest roll of your hips in his lap makes him bite back a groan. there is no excuse for the fact that he is half hard already, not when he's been with other people while abroad. it's ridiculous.

"you're annoying", his lips follow the line of your jaw and you tilt your head back to give him better access, "I could never miss you", but who would believe that? not even oliver himself.

"your pants are on fire", you chuckle, fingers gently carding through his soft hair, "literally".

he hates that, somehow, your terrible jokes are not a deterrent. quite the opposite, really.

"wait-", oliver rests his forehead on your shoulder to collect his self-control when your fingers sneak beneath the hem of his shorts to close around the shape of his cock.

"shut up for once", you stroke him gently and he swears you must've been sent from some angered god to ruin his life and make all his resolve crumble.

oliver practically never lets you take care of him first, always adamant on focusing on your pleasure and prepping you with the utmost precision before doing anything else. before allowing you to do anything else.

today won't be any different.

"what are you-", he stops your hand with his own, removing it from his underwear with a level of self-restraint he didn't know he possessed, "oliver!", you groan when he gets up from his couch so suddenly you're forced to wrap your arms and legs around him like a koala bear.

"my house, my rules", he pecks your lips once and you roll your eyes as he carries you to his bedroom.

"how are you so stubborn?".

he huffs out a chuckle.

"you're one to talk".

"wait, don't-!", you let out a little yelp when he quite literally throws you on his king size bed to then climb on top of you to kiss you again, again, again, until you forget whatever remonstrance you were about to throw at him.

he's so broad your legs have to be almost completely spread open to accommodate his body, which unfortunately also gives his fingers easy access to uncerimoniously push your panties aside and swipe two fingers through your folds. have you ever been this wet...?

"oliver, no!", you grab his wrist and he immediately pulls back, concerned eyes finding your agitated stare.

"what's wrong? did I do something-", words are tucked back into his throat as soon as he notices the crimson now staining his fingers. for a moment, he panics. then, your quiet apology makes him let out a relieved sigh. you're not in pain, you're embarrassed.

"I'm so sorry", you murmur, quick to cover yourself again, "I tried to... I didn't want to tell you".

oliver, now sitting on his heels, feels genuinely confused.

"why not?".

you purposefully avoid his attentive eyes, busy yourself by nervously playing with a loose thread on your skirt.

"I still wanted to come over", you admit, shifting uncomfortably against his pillows, "it should've been about you today, not me".

his gaze softens.

"I won't touch you if you don't want me to", the fingers of his clean hand gently dance along your knee, "but know that your comfort is the only thing that would hold me back".

you scoff.

"you don't have to do that. I know men think it's gross".

"and since you always seem to know everything", oliver leans down, his lips ghosting over your parted ones, "did you also notice I'm currently so hard it hurts?".

you blink, doubt still swarming in your gaze even as you can't help but check if he's telling the truth. isn't he always? oliver is many things but he's not a liar.

"you really don't care?", incredulous, you stubbornly search for any trace of hesitation in his eyes. he nudges the tip of your nose with his own.

"I couldn't care less if I tried".

"are you sure? I'll ruin your bed-"

"tell me to touch you", oliver whispers the words into your mouth, his pitch on the edge of turning desperate, "if you want me to, there's nothing else holding me back".

he gives you some time to consider his unexpected offer by kissing you so deeply your head starts spinning. you tentatively pull him closer, legs parting timidly, but oliver waits as the patient man that he is.

"please", you breathe out.

"please what?", he kisses down your throat, teeth grazing the skin he intends to mark later.

"please, touch me", you pull at his hair, the fire of your puerile frustration with him never quite dying. he hides his smile in your neck as his fingers find their designated place once more, between your legs.

"relax", oliver whispers and your body complies the way it always does with him.

you are soaked in arousal and blood. the way he can feel your entrance fluttering beneath his teasing fingers sends a jolt of pleasure straight to his dick.

it doesn't take long for your body to respond to his deft touches, your restraint long forgotten by the time oliver gently removes your panties to take a better look at the artwork his skilled fingers are creating.

his gaze darkens at the sight, the pads of his fingers carefully smearing what is dripping out of your quivering hole along the inside of your thighs.

"stop staring", he can tell the playful disapproval vibrating in your voice is still concealing some lingering self-consciousness and that just won't do.

oliver dips a finger inside you and nearly comes on the spot when it sinks in so easily. entranced, he watches the way your back arches for it, teeth sinking into your lower lip.

"be less beautiful, then", he adds a second finger and you nearly scream at the sensation. the rich, deep red glistening on your skin and his fingers, his palm from the way you're practically mounting his hand, makes oliver curse under his breath.

"oliver", you breathe out, already too far gone to even moan properly.

"tell me how it feels", he crooks his fingers and presses one hand to your tummy to keep you from moving as you tremble unederneath him.

"good, really good", you cry out, rock your hips to meet the relentless movement of his thick digits.

oliver is a patient man but every patient man has his breaking point. his cock is leaking in his briefs, so hard it feels on the verge of exploding, and he feels every ounce of composure abandon his body when you moan his name again.

you open your eyes when he slips his drenched fingers out of your cunt, a frustrated sob escaping your lips at the loss. it all happens so quickly: the warm, wet feeling on your hip bone where he grabs you. oliver's head between your thighs.

the first swipe of his tongue up your slit makes you buck your hips into the warmth of his mouth, a soundless scream leaving yours open. oliver eats you out mercilessly, the sounds he is making downright obscene, tongue swirling over your clit over and over until there are tears in your eyes and your fingers are fisting his once pristine sheets.

"oh, god-", you cry out when he returns his attention to your entrance, wet, warm tongue slipping so easily into your hole. his fingers are holding you still so firmly you can only take what he is giving you, broken moans making your throat ache as the wet squelch of oliver aiku devouring your bleeding pussy fills the room.

"are you not-", you jolt again when he sucks on your bundle of nerves, "breathing?".

oliver can't be bothered to speak. the low, guttural sound he lets out reverberates deep within you and your fingers dig into his curls again, nails scratching his scalp as his ruts against his mattress. fuck, he doesn't remember ever feeling this turned on. he doesn't remember ever wanting someone this much, he can't recall ever needing to ruin a partner this bad.

you orgasm with his tongue buried deep inside you, his thumb roughly playing with your clit as you choke out a moan while you tremble with hyperstimulation. the sensation is so overwhelming you think you might black out in his bed.

oliver has never looked more beautiful. crimson stains his face still, even after he tries to wipe the blood off his lips and chin, his chest heaving and his eyes fixed on you. purple lighting and forest green, dark, observant, promising.

"can't believe you almost denied me that", his own voice comes out hoarse and desire throbs once more between your legs.

"can't believe you almost killed me", you whisper and he smiles a boyish grin.

your foot rises to lazily trace the outline of his hard cock, still confined to his briefs. he grabs your ankle, presses himself further into you with a sharp breath.

"what do you need?", his hand rises to grasp your calf, leaving streaks of scarlet on your warm skin, "tell me", he rasps. it's infuriating how well he knows you, way too well for someone who is only supposed to be a friend with benefits.

"I need you to fuck me", your other leg wraps around his waist and oliver offers a lazy smile, letting you pull him closer.

[deltamel]

KNOT YOURS! valko x f!reader

After your rocky first meeting with the EonCore Tech Chairman and head of the werewolf clan, a cursory scan of your Hunter's Watch database tells you that werewolves, like their animal counterpart, mate for life. Unfortunately, this doesn't explain why Valko wants to mate with a human—you.

CONTENT: 18+, hybrid x human, knotting, scent kink/scenting, enemies to lovers except valko has never once considered you his enemy, oversized puppy-coded valko, mildly-tsundere reader, fated mates, manhandling, size difference, one line breeding kink mention, 5.3k words.

MEL'S NOTE: as a little girl, i always knew i wanted a werewolf for my fated soulmate. (aka valko's trailer dropped, i wrote over 4k words, got interrupted by my period lmao, and then infold decided to slime him a few days later. it felt wrong to let this fic rot away in my drafts, so... here it is lol. rip valko. you will be very missed, sweet puppy! i wish we could've met you TᴖT)

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The forest is surprisingly comfortable.

You didn't expect it, given how your own experiences with the wilderness have been limited to missions and wanderer-hunting, with very little time to appreciate the beauty of nature when you're fighting for your life.

But it is… Beautiful.

Deep, viridian-covered branches tangle together high above your head and form a dense canopy, letting through only a smattering of sunlight, much like stars dotting a night sky. Somewhere off to your right, a family of birds sink to each other. You can't help but wonder what they're saying as you breathe in deep lungfuls of air so clean you could cry. And beneath your back, the floor is soft. Not mattress-soft or brushed-cotton-soft. But spongey and forgiving, a bed of leaves cushioning your spine like one would cradle a babe.

You wonder if Valko picked this spot on purpose. If he knows every square inch of this forest and decided to fuck you here. Where the earth feels kind. Where your noises tangle together until they become part of the forest's symphony, indistinguishable from the crying animal you can hear in the distance, or the gentle thrush of dancing branches. Valko called the forest "his" when he found you. Not his home, not his territory... Just his. As though everything from the dirt in the cracks of your shoes to the skyward-reaching boughs were drawn forth from his very being.

You wonder, too, if any part of the forest could be yours. If you ask, would he let you own a part of him? A tree to name as though a person, a free-flying bird to clutch in your palm, a patch of bright flowers to doze in.

A fool's dream.

Because, while only a matter of days has passed since your first meeting, you've been reliving the memory of it in horror, when caught on the brink of wakefulness and sleep. The feeling of his large body giving way to you and hitting the dusty ground, supine. You—triumphant in every way, straddled atop him like an animal.

Then, worse.

Much worse.

Valko's face beside yours. The agonisingly pleasant drag of his nose behind your ear. A deep inhale—guttered like a candle flame, followed by a disbelieving, "Your scent..."—entirely impossible to forget. The whole interaction set your head spinning. So wrongly intimate in the middle of a battlefield, his every touch melting down into reverence where he held you against him. And each time you recall the memory, your reaction is different.

One time, you push him away as soon as his hold tightens, scrambling to your feet, features marred with disgust.

Another, you grab the burgundy hair at his nape and smash your mouth into his.

Only this morning, did you press the barrel of your pistol against his temple and threaten to pull the trigger.

In reality, however, you didn't fight back. You didn't reciprocate, either. You merely just let him touch you, smell you, hold you like a lover and not an enemy he'd met all of ten minutes prior.

Shame rushes to meet you as though the dam of your resistance has finally crumbled. Because here you are—beneath Valko. Drawn in by his claims of "fated mates" and big, puppy dog eyes. On another mission entirely, yet you were hunted down within minutes of your arrival in his territory.

You tried to resist.

Sort of.

But deep inside you, there was a pull. A string tied around your heart. Pulled just enough to make you take a step forward towards him. Another. And another. Until you were grabbing desperately at his stupid, big shoulders and kissing him with a ferocity that surprised even you—as though you hadn't taken a breath since you left him, and the meeting of your lips was akin to surfacing from deep water. Valko handled you easily, didn't bat an eyelid at the familiar way you fell into him, and used all that irritating strength of his to swoop you up and bring you here.

Though where here is exactly, you wouldn't be able to say.

"You're such a big brute," you pant, a palm thumping at his shoulder blade like your anxious, horny energy has no other outlet but violence.

Sweat drips onto your cheek in lieu of a comeback. You flinch, grimacing, and then flinch again when you feel the sudden rush of arousal accompanying it. There's nothing sexy about an idiot who can't decide whether he wants to be a man or a wolf, and definitely nothing about the aforementioned idiot sweating all over you.

Valko drags his nose up. Sniffs behind your ear. Groans and thrusts into you deeper. "You smell so good, pup."

You groan, too, decidedly more annoyed than Valko. "Don't call me that! You're not even listening!"

"I am," he says, clearly distracted by the way you clench around him a second later. "Fuck... What are you doing to me?"

"I'm not doing—" You toss your head back onto the soft ground when he tilts his hips, hitting your g-spot with frightening accuracy. "—haaah-anything! You stupid dog!"

Valk's mouth dips immediately down into the cavern of your throat, tongue licking wet and hot up the rungs of your trachea. Your stomach swoops when you feel a faint scratch—almost like those canines of his are teasing your skin, sharp and gleaming, and able to tear your throat out in an instant.

"Wolf," he growls lowly.

"Whatever." Venom seeps back into your voice. You feel humiliated to have given in as easily as you did. Even more so at how capable Valko is of fucking any sane thought from your brain. "I don't think wolves are supposed to fuck humans."

Valko lets out a sharp rumble from deep in his chest. You can feel it reverberate straight through you, plastered to him as vines crawling up a dawn redwood would be.

"Pretty sure it's a— ngh! Violation of some animal welfare law."

"Werewolf," Valko corrects a heartbeat later, the point of an ear flicking against your chin.

You brace yourself when you feel another brush of pointy teeth, ready for them to sink into your flesh like a meal, overdue and mouthwatering. There would be no fight. None that you would win, anyhow.

Dragging a large, overheated palm down your flank, Valko slips it beneath your lower back. You have barely a second to guess at what he's attempting before you're unceremoniously lifted, hips inches from the ground, suspended there while he ruts into you. You gasp at the new angle, at the humiliating stretch of his thick cock pounding into your dripping cunt. A boot-covered foot lands on the back of his thigh. You can't help but hold on for dear life, even as your head swims with mortification.

You never do this—fuck someone you barely know.

A gasp. Eyelids fluttering as he strokes deep inside you. A big, shaggy tail thumping your shin rhythmically.

Is it always this good?

"You were looking for me," Valko murmurs into your sweaty neck.

Startled, you grab his shoulders and push. Valko lifts his head obediently. But, and here's the real kicker, he's fucking huge. Broad shoulders that cover half your vision when you tip your head down to stare at him incredulously. Thick, wide torso pinning you to the ground. You almost lose your nerve. But then he's panting in your face, breath hitting hot against your lips, and you have to say something, anything, or you'll end up kissing him again.

"No, I wasn't! I'm supposed to be—" a strangled moan "—on a mission. Finding a wanderer! Not..."

The end of your sentence eludes your fuzzy brain, as does any thought besides how Valko's stroke game might actually kill you.

Valko shakes his head, veering closer. You go cross-eyed. He bumps his forehead into yours, and the new point of contact is another fraying thread of your sanity, one more layering of molten arousal settling over your body like a suffocating fire blanket. You half-wonder if Valko has some special werewolf vision when he stares at you intently enough to frighten—if his vision isn't blurred like yours. If you look as stupidly fucked out as you feel right now, also.

Slowing his hips into a deep, torturous roll, he knocks his nose into yours playfully.

"Not you," he emphasises, and you feel his lips brush yours. A feather's kiss. Then, another hand—the one not hiking your hips incrementally higher by the second—slips beneath your nape, big fingers cupping the back of your head, a thumb stroking over the corner of your jaw. You almost moan, still baffled at his size. At the easy way he's moving you, and the sheer span of his hands, his shoulders, his hips. You swallow the incriminating noise instead. "Your soul. I could feel it, pup. Howling at me. Haah— Asking me to find you."

You exhale shakily. "You're crazy."

"Not crazy," he murmurs, pressing his forehead against yours firmer. He repeats himself, hushed yet solemn, "Not crazy."

You swallow the stone trapped in your throat. Feel it sink into your stomach with a final, echoing thump.

"I felt you. Different from how I feel you now."

Your lips part around a question before your brain has a chance to catch up. "What did you feel?"

"Hunger," comes Valko's immediate reply, as though he doesn't even have to think about it. As though he's telling the truth. "Loneliness. Hope. Confusion. Everything." Valko's voice drops into a raw note, like he's being flayed further open by each word he chooses to share, but he couldn't bear to keep them to himself despite it. "All of it."

You gasp, back arching up into the wall of his chest. Valko's fingertips dig into your lower back, and he pulls you up into him further, like it won't be enough until you climb inside his skin.

"Your soul was the deepest silence and the most beautiful song I've heard in my life."

Tears prick at your eyes, and your vitriol vanishes with enough pace to leave you breathless. The string tied around your heart pulls taut, lurching up into your throat. Valko knows. He must do. Because the corner of his eyes softens, solid gold melting into liquid, and he regards you so fondly that you feel pinned under the weight of his veneration, despite Valko knowing only your nasty words and the unfaltering pressure of your limbs.

"There is a forest inside you," Valko says, awed, big ears turning towards your expression as though able to hear its idiosyncrasies.

Arousal and some unidentified emotion—heavy and foundational and undeniably trusting—fight for control, welling up inside your chest until they crush your every heaving breath. Valko slows his hips until he's only grinding deep inside you, pubis pressing against your clit in a way that sends a frisson of heat dancing up your spine.

"Valko," you whimper, voice breaking from his words or the intimate grind of his cock, you have no idea.

Palm sliding from your nape to the side of your neck, Valko's thumb drags adoringly along your jaw until it finds its home— right below the softness of your bottom lip. He pulls it down slightly, and your mouth parts without thought.

Valko pours his words into its cavernous reaches, "I can hear it now."

Every inch of you is matted with sweat. Valko runs hot. So hot you're losing your mind, wrapped in his balmy embrace, being fucked by his big cock, spoken to in a tone so sweet and so low your heart fractures and remakes itself into newness.

"Your soul stretched out and sank its claws deep into my flesh from the very first moment we met, little hunter. I didn't have a choice. I had to find you again." His eyes flutter closed, pained. "I had to."

You whimper again—an open, vulnerable noise crawling up from the base of your throat entirely unfamiliar to you. You've never made a noise like this before. But now you can't stop. More follow. Tiny, wounded things that only make Valko clutch you tighter, roll his hips deeper. In turn, only deepening your delirium—until you're more animal than human. Until your nails are sinking deep into his shoulders and your mouth is finding his once more, darkness engulfing you.

Hissing at the prick of pain, Valko reciprocates without hesitation, and within seconds, it dissolves into a contented, humming moan. Valko tilts his head and licks into your mouth like he's tasting what you ate for breakfast, tongue flicking along the flat rows of your teeth. His mouth opens further, coaxing yours to mirror him, and he releases this breathy sound of astonishment into you.

"Sw't," he says, muffled against your lips—backing away barely enough for the syllables to be heard before he's meeting you again, like two souls clashing in an open field. You keen, loud, and your hips jerk in place when he nips at you, light and teasing and familiar. You're rewarded with a laugh. This time, he does part from you, but not before pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "Sweet, sweet thing."

"Shut up," you mumble quietly, all the fight drained out of you.

"You're trouble, though. I can tell." The corner of Valko's eyes crinkles. "Seen plenty of it before."

You try to grumble, but his big hand hikes your hips higher, and he's everywhere—outside you, inside you—and you can do nothing but take what he's giving you with the faint notion that you're not going to be able to live without this—him—once it's over. That he's changing your fundamentals, cock driving deep inside you and rearranging what you once were.

"'m not trouble-nghhh!" you retort, gasping around the word 'trouble' when he pulls his hips back and slams into you, punishingly hard despite the tender hold he has on you, as though you could be blown over by a gust of wind and shattered in the middle of this forest.

"I got you, little hunter, I got you."

"Valko, ohmygod, there!"

"Here?" he asks, hammering into the spot that's making you see stars, or maybe that's just the canopy light flashing in your wet vision.

"Yesyesyes," you chant, chest heaving.

"So pretty."

You barely hear it. Blood roaring in your ears, brain a soupy mess. There's not much of anything left but the feeling of his thick cock carving a home for himself into your cunt, wet noises echoing above the din of the forest.

"My mate."

Your whole body shudders. No way. Not this again. You can't be. You're many, many things: wrong and volatile and above all—human.

"Ma-ah! Mate?"

Valko nods, coming to nose under your jaw.

"No! No, Valko, I'm not— I'm…"

"Mine."

"Human!"

"Mine."

"Valko, please," you whine, tears filling your eyes. "I'm not who you're looking for. I'm not! You don't know me. You don't want me. Not past today—not for the rest of your life."

A mean thrust. The tears spill.

"This is just instincts," you argue weakly. "Your stupid werewolf wires crossing and—"

"We are all just instincts," Valko cuts in, not unkindly. Not condescendingly. Just stating it like the simple, breathless fact it supposedly is before dipping down to kiss you again. You clench around Valko so hard his tail thwacks the thigh you have hooked around his waist.

Traitorously, your brain whispers: What were you driven by when you first kissed Valko, if not your instincts?

"V'lk'," you speak, muffled against his mouth.

You're ignored. But you have bigger issues, namely, how the heat is eating you alive. So imposing it's a physical weight, melting you into Valko's hold—and it all seems to be emanating out from where you're joined. An orgasm creeping up on your heels, molten fire right behind it—waiting to engulf you for good. You can barely move your hips to meet his quick thrusts, settling for half-heartedly twitching as he pounds into you. Held up by nothing but his strength alone, what feels like it could be miles from the soft forest bed.

Licking into your mouth, Valko doesn't hear you. Not until you slide a hand to the front of his shoulder and push once more. He doesn't budge an inch, but you get his attention. He leans back to peer at you—all big, round eyes and flushed face, sweat beading along his temple—and yet somehow, he looks more composed than you feel. At once, self-consciousness rises like a tide.

"You're confused," you blurt anyway, forcing the emotion away.

Valko smiles, a gentle curve utterly undoing. "I've never been more sure about anything in my life."

And that…

It unmakes you. Strips back those petal-shaped layers you've been clutching as though they were impenetrable armour. Bares you to the forest, to him, to yourself. Effortlessly. So unassuming that you didn't notice, not until you're lying there—an open, gaping wound.

Sinking lower, Valko's voice is a smooth stone drifting from the mouth of a river into open ocean. "My mate."

"Yours," you breathe quietly, as though a tone too loud will wash away its meaning. As though it's a secret to be guarded between you, Valko, and the forest.

Valko's expression flies through a myriad of colours in an instant. Then, your pussy flutters around his cock and his face lands on hunger. Bending down, he brushes his nose on your temple again, slides his chest against yours—rubbing skin in a way that, to you, seems to have no aim but contact. He presses his nose into your hair and breathes in deeply.

"You smell like me."

Valko's thick cock splits you open, and your hips are held so high your legs kick in the air.

You suck in a heaving breath, see-sawing between the syrupy mess of your thoughts and the heat consuming you. "W-what?"

Brushing his temple against yours, he laughs. Though the sound is thin and strained. "Nothing."

You want to chase it up, to push him, truly you do. But then, he's anchoring a forearm on the ground by your head and using it as leverage to fuck into you even harder, each snap of his hips sending pleasure skittering up your spine. Your toes curl against his thighs, and the heat becomes a roaring inferno.

"Valko," you whimper again.

The man drags his nose back across your cheek, brushes it against yours. Leans back to catch your lidded gaze. You stare up at him blearily, at the way he's your entire field of vision. Blown-out pupils drink you in as he asks, "What is it, pup?"

You seize up at the nickname this time—muscles locking and breath stalling in your chest like the moment existing before a vacuum consumes everything the next—and cum. Silent for the briefest of moments before your voice crawls up your throat, ruined. A string of keening gasps, underlined with these scratchy moans from deep in your chest. Your fingernails dig into Valko's shoulders, desperate for a moor.

Yet, he doesn't stop.

Fucks you through it with a surprising ferocity, even as his hips begin to stutter.

"So sweet," he moans, staring down at you, face the same colour as his hair. His ears twitch madly atop his head, like he can't decide which sounds of yours to focus on—your tiny, gasping whimpers or the wet shtick of his cock pounding your pussy. "All for me."

Your orgasm feels as though it's dragging you down into its depths, your pleasure turning high and painful, though no less mind-numbing. You cry out when Valko's cock brushes against your G-spot so soon, and then cry again when Valko decides to repeat the action.

You slide a hand up his nape, panicked, nails dragging harsh lines. "Valko, ah— wait—"

Valko's hips snap into you reflexively.

"Ohmygod," he whines. Whines. Like he's not the big bad leader of the werewolf clan. As though he's not the one fucking you to tears.

You freeze at the sound.

"Please," he gasps out. "Again."

Then, you watch from a body that's not your own as you obey, orgasm still lapping at your core. Your other hand drags sharp lines along his muscled shoulder and up into his nape, through the soft, cropped mess of his hair. Pain-pleasure frisks your skin. Valko buries his head in the hollow of your throat, and you can feel him panting there, open-mouthed.

"Again."

You want to tease. To find your words and call him bossy, demanding and stupid. All traits that should never be endearing and yet here you are, unequivocally endeared. Instead, you splay your finger tips wide across the back of his skull—thumbs tucked behind his human ears—and drag your nails along his scalp, up to his crown.

Valko shudders as though abruptly caught in a winter breeze.

"Haah—"

Your fingertip strokes up the back of a wolf-ear, the fur silky soft beneath your touch. You can feel it twitching in response. A thumb rises to join it, pressing up the warm, fleshy inside.

"Pup, I'm-nghhh—"

Meanwhile, your free hand moves curiously around the base of his other wolf ear, gauging where the human ends and the werewolf begins. You press a finger firmly to the divide, and pet it back and forth.

Both ears flick as though to brush away your fingers, before pinning back against his head right as he pants out, "Closeclose—"

Valko hunches over you, sharp teeth nipping at your neck. You jump. Instinctively ducking your head to protect your neck. Whining again, Valko makes a wounded sound as though denied—though denied what, you don't have the brain capacity to work out. You tip your head further back on instinct. Valko groans, half-fearful, and he stops fucking you abruptly.

You take the chance to catch your breath.

"Don't—" Valko, panic-stricken.

A graze of teeth.

In your gut, you know you shouldn't fight him—so you don't. You surrender yourself, forcefully relaxing your body. Both hands tangled in his soft hair and around his spasming ears like they're sacred. You let out a low whine from the base of your throat, and Valko punches out a wounded whine of his own, perfectly dizzying.

"Valko, please," you gasp, not even sure what you're begging for at this point.

"I can't— ohfuck—"

You're immediately distracted by a weird sensation. Fullness. A pleasant stretch edging into slightly painful.

"Valko, what is—"

His hips start into a shallow grind, keeping his entire cock inside you. You glance up to see his ears flick back again, flat to his skull.

"'m sorry, 'm sorry–"

Your pussy is forced wider around Valko's cock. Something swelling—inflating—inside you, a sensation so jarring you scrabble at his hair as pure alarm lances your heart. You try to draw your hips back, but the hand beneath your lower back keeps you where you are, despite the apologies he continues to murmur against your neck.

"Sorry, pup, 'm sorry, 'm sor—"

"Ow, ow— Valko— it hurts," you protest, staring up into the canopy. Then, you angle your head down uselessly to try to catch his gaze.

"I didn't mean to, you just smell so… and you're acting like… like that. And you don't even know what it's doing to me," he replies, tight and panicked.

"Valko!" You thump at his back, nervous in equal measure at his tone.

"You have to—" he grunts when you clench around him, "—relax."

Your voice climbs higher. "Relax?!"

"Jesus, pup, please. Stop squeezing me."

"I can't," you cry, tears welling up again as Valko's dick keeps inflating. You're going to be split open, sharp heat will slice you in two. Your back arches up into him. "Ahhh— fuck, Valko!"

Valko lets out a devastated gasp. His head tips to the side until his cheek rests on your shoulder, hot breath panting across the front of your throat.

"What is happening?!"

Your hunter's watch didn't say anything about stupid werewolf dick having the ability to enlarge at will.

"'s my-haah— my knot."

Valko slides his hips forward, forcing your pussy to stretch wider around him. You make a hysterical sound.

"What does that even mean?!"

"I can't… can't think."

Your voice runs ragged. "Not helpful!"

"I mnnn-know!"

You kick the back of his thigh and whimper as the movement causes him to shift deeper. His tail falls still, a strip of warmth across your leg.

"Stop-ah— moving."

"Pull out!"

Valko grunts.

"Valko, pull out!"

"Pup, I can't," he argues, strained.

"What do you mean you can't, bastard? Pull! Out!"

Valko lets out a low, disgruntled sound. Before holding you carefully and drawing his hips back, so slowly you swear he's actively trying to piss you off further. Then, you feel it. A sore stretch returns, until it dips into sheer, mind-numbing pain so fast you yelp, sucking in a wet breath and attempting to draw your legs towards your body, despite the hulking man spreading you open. Valko stills immediately, slipping back into your heat with a moan of pure relief. You echo it as the pain subsides and the size of Valko becomes more manageable again.

"See?" he asks lowly.

You nod dazedly, still catching your breath. You're starting to adjust, but the stretch still burns something fiery, even as pleasure begins to lick at the wound.

"What the fuck…" you mumble to yourself.

You clench around him, testing, and Valko groans. You do, too, when the pain flares again, a sweeping wave of arousal following close behind.

Then, a strike of clarity: "You still haven't cum."

You feel unsettled at the notion, deeply so.

"Working on it," Valko huffs, voice rough.

"Don't sound too excited."

"Are you always this mouthy?" A beat of silence, then an agitated twitch of a wolf ear. "Actually, don't answer that. I don't want to know."

You roll your eyes but soften your voice.

"There's no one to tell you about," you admit.

Valko stills. "Pup…"

"What?" you snap, immediately falling back on the defensive.

Valko moans again, for no discernible reason. Sighing irritably, you thump your head back onto the ground, only for Valko to make another heated noise into your neck. You bristle at not understanding what's even setting him off.

"Seriously! What's wrong with you?"

Valko sighs. Shifts his hips. Exhales at the hitch in your breath. "I like a bit of a fight in my prey."

"Fuck off," you respond.

"Yeah," he laughs, undeniably fond, which is objectively crazy. You've known this man for a matter of days. An hour, if you count the time you've actually spent in his company. You grip his hair tighter and listen to his laughter peter out. "There you are."

Valko rocks his hips once, testing, and when you do no more than punch out a tiny exhale, he does it again. And again. Rocking into your tight heat just enough to drive you insane. Just enough to drive him insane if his noises are anything to go by, too. These pained, throaty whines, tangled in gasps, serve only to set your nerves alight. For someone so big and imposing, the muted desperation in his voice is enough to have your hips twitching again.

"God, you feel so—"

You clench around him and he rewards you for it, a drawn-out whine echoing in the quiet of the forest.

"Pup— 'm gonna—"

Valko fucks inside you once, twice, bares his teeth to the softness of your neck. You drag your nails down his scalp and wrap your fingers around his nape, thumbs brushing the corner of his jaw.

"—closecloseclose—"

You lift his face and press your lips together. All it takes is a comforting whine, a melding of the words you cannot find into baseless sound, and Valko is cumming. Pouring his heat into your mouth, your cunt, warm spurts of cum filling you up.

There's no wrongness to be found.

No gut feeling to swoop your high away. Only a deep-seated satisfaction that you're safe, cared for. That right now, nothing could matter more than the man trapped inside you. You part your lips wider and lick into his mouth, happily swallowing his flustered sounds as he rides out his orgasm—hips twitching abortedly into your heat.

Peaceful, you would call it, despite how laughable the notion is—being split open on a werewolf's cock and finding the peace you've been searching for your entire life.

Then, he slumps atop you, deadweight. Head dropping into the ground above your shoulder as he lowers your body, none-too-gently, back down to the forest floor.

"Oof— Valko, I can't— breathe," you wheeze when the weight of him settles over you like an anvil, palms slapping his back uselessly.

He grunts, an ear-flick indicating that he hears you. But he doesn't move.

"Valko!"

A sigh—long-suffering, which you don't quite understand when he's only had to suffer through your presence all of a whopping hour since you met him.

Tucking a hand above your ass to keep his cock lodged inside you, Valko rolls onto his back with little fanfare. You make a startled noise and prop yourself up before you can crush him, wincing at the burn of arousal making itself known. You would let him fuck you again if he wanted. You refuse to say as much, though.

Valko whines in discontent, and a big arm wraps around your waist to coax you downwards. You settle without a fuss, pressing a cheek into the hollow of his throat.

"Good," he mumbles quietly, a big hand petting down the length of your spine.

Shivers break out across your skin at the sensation, and you melt into a languid mess atop his chest between one heartbeat and the next. You don't know why. There's no reasonable explanation for the serenity being housed in your ribs, but it is there all the same.

You shift slightly before finding your voice.

"I don't think my landlord allows wolves," you say quietly, a fingertip tracing inane patterns on his chest.

Valko laughs, the slow rise and fall of his chest becoming an earthquake beneath your touch.

"I promise they won't even know I'm there," he eventually says, with only the lingering traces of amusement to be found in his voice. A palm squeezes your nape.

You scoff, disbelieving. While the forest was convenient for his little werewolf fuckfest, you're not confident your apartment is insulated for such endeavours. Valko crowds you tighter, like he senses your thoughts and is offended by them.

A heartbeat later: "How long are we stuck like this for?"

Valko hums, thinking. Gives a small shrug. Leans forward to inhale a deep lungful of you behind your ear before replying, "About thirty minutes."

You try to sit up. "Thirty minutes?!"

Pressing you back down easily, Valko doesn't even bother opening his eyes. "Gotta wait for it to take."

In all fairness, you don't put up much of a fight.

"For it to…?" you mouth silently, eyebrows furrowed.

Then, a lightbulb.

Oh.

Oh.

Arousal rushes to meet you with all the force of a brick wall going g-force, and you wrinkle your nose, feigning nonchalance despite the waver which threatens your credibility. Werewolves can't smell emotions, right? "You're disgusting."

Valko laughs, and you shake with it. "Whatever you say, pup."

Lying back on his chest, you bite the inside of your cheek and let your mind drift.

Do humans feel it too? you wonder. Their fated mate?

But the answer is painfully clear—past those layers, stripped back by Valko with all the ease of a scythe slicing through reeds, and past the unfettering drum of your pulse.

Your heart belongs to Valko.

And maybe it always has. Long, long before the world decided it was time for the two of you to meet. So, you bury your head deeper underneath Valko's chin, slotting into him like a missing puzzle piece, and exist within the forest's song.

Together, at last.

‹‹ MASTERLIST

thank you for reading if you got this far! please consider leaving a comment, reblogging, or dropping into my inbox if you enjoyed! ♡

SIDENOTE: there is a fan-created website to archive valko's promotional materials and guide players on how to contact infold to appeal their decision. please consider checking it out here if you are interested :) much love!

[humanjarvis]

cone of shame

synopsis: after getting pricked by a porcupine, valko is sentenced to the cone of shame for 7 days. the vet has one additional instruction: avoid skin-to-skin contact with you.

slowly, he descends into depravity.

tags: fluff, smut, comfort, established relationship, porn with plot, sexual tension, porcupine, valko goes to the vet, poorly researched veterinary procedure, valko implied to have previously been sprayed by a skunk, this dog eats chocolate, plot gets progressively hornier, clingy valko, switch valko, begging, facesitting, cunnilingus, face riding, cum eating, doggy position, spit kink, scent kink, licking, light predator prey, light wrestling, floor sex, male masturbation, voyeurism, biting, manhandling, unprotected penetrative sex, knotting, at least i tried knotting im not too involved with that so i dont know for certain, shirt sniffing, pillow sniffing, these are out of order, poorly proofread

pairing: valko x fem reader word count: 5.4k

a/n: may you forever frolic in that big forest in the sky 🕊️

“Koko! Where are you? We’re going to be late!”

Your gut swirls with worry as you check your phone again. It’s been over an hour—is he still not back from his run? 

Any longer, and your reserved seats for the newest horror movie would be stolen for sure. Not that you think he’d mind, though—he usually curled up into you before the second act even started. 

Peering around the backyard, you scan the dense, verdant woods in all directions. He’d never dedicated himself to any particular trail, which meant that he could return from anywhere. 

It also meant that he could be anywhere right now. 

Fighting a losing battle with unease, you slide your phone into your back pocket and take a few timid steps toward the forest. No matter where he was, he’d come running if you got into trouble. You knew that for certain. How many times had he jumped defensively in front of you only for a bunny or a bird to be the perceived threat? Still, the unpredictability of nature gives you pause. 

Just as you inch forward a few more steps, there’s a rustle at the treeline. 

You can hear that Valko's hurt before you can see it. Those breathy, frustrated whines—you’d recognize them anywhere. But where is he? How is he injured? 

A wall of green stares back at you, refusing to answer.

You’re jogging toward the trees now, throwing caution to the wind as you follow the sounds of his pain. Just before you cross into the forest, you finally spot your boyfriend’s massive figure, his wine red hair being the giveaway. He’s facing a pine tree, tail stiff and laid low, touching his head and wincing repeatedly.

As he registers your scent and whips around to face you, you understand why: at least 15 black-tipped, spindly death daggers sprout from his cheeks and nose. 

“Valko?” You cover your mouth in shock, and he stumbles closer, falling forward against you.

“Hurts,” he grunts. 

Like always, you struggle to support his large body. Even more so now that one wrong move could further impale him. “What happened?” 

“Porcupines are supposed to be nocturnal,” he says, voice grim and shaky. “This one wasn’t.” 

If you had an extra hand, you’d drag it down your forehead right now. 

Skunks, raccoons, exceptionally angry squirrels—those had all happened before. A porcupine, though? That was new. Almost impressive.

“You just get into all sorts of trouble, don’t you.” Taking a step back, you brace your hands on his chest to examine him. “Let me have a look at you.” 

The quills look like toothpicks dipped in black ink. And while a few of them seem to have barely penetrated his skin, the majority mark the porcupine’s decisive victory. 

“Can you take them out?” he asks, staring down at you pleadingly. “If we hurry, we can still make the movie on time. I know I’m super late. I’m sorry.”

Twenty of nature’s finest knives in his face, and he’s worried about the movies?

“You obviously had a reason,” you murmur, cupping his less-affected left cheek in your hand. “I don’t know if I should, Koko. The tomato bath was one thing, but this… If I do it wrong, I’ll just make it worse.” 

His response is simple: “I trust you.” 

Cute. But not what you need right now.

Blowing out a breath, you stand up on your tiptoes and reach for one of the looser quills. Your fingers barely brush the tip of it when renewed anxiety shoots through you. “No, no. I can’t! I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You couldn’t if you tried.” He snorts, then winces at the pain. 

“Tell that to the porcupine.” You narrow your eyes. “I think it missed the memo.” 

His ears swivel in acknowledgment. He’s 0–2 in battles today. 

“All right, change of plans,” you announce, clapping your hands and turning on your heel. “We can go to the movies another day. Right now, we need to go to the vet.” 

“It’s not that serious,” he protests. “I’d do it myself if I just had a mirror. Let’s go back to the house, and—”

“I’ll get the car ready.” Your word is final. 

His ears droop atop his head. 

Ultimately, you had to ease him into the passenger’s seat so he didn’t accidentally nudge any of the quills. You debated just shoving him into the trunk so he’d have extra room, but figured extraction would be a difficult task in the clinic’s often-packed parking lot. 

In the waiting room, you try to shield him as best you can from quizzical looks and a particularly curious cat, but he’s without a doubt the largest patient in the room. Likewise, once he’s called to the back, his sheer size makes the exam room furniture look like dollhouse accessories. The central table is nearly the length of his tail alone, and it creaks under his every movement. But you stand dutifully at his side, making sure he’s as comfortable as can be, given the circumstances. 

The vet’s entrance is prompt as always—part of the reason why Valko prefers this clinic. The other is the giant fish tank in the waiting room that he gets to busy himself with. Today, he was in too much pain, but he typically holds intense staring contests with its oblivious inhabitants, bragging to you whenever he “wins.” 

“Well, I typically ask, ‘What seems to be the problem?’,” Dr. Song jokes as she shakes both of your hands. “But today, I don’t think that’s necessary.” 

Sighing, Valko scratches at his jeans. “I went out for a run, and I heard something grunting in a bush nearby. I thought it might’ve been a lost pup, so I went to check it out. Anyone would, right?” He looks to you for support. 

Smiling softly, you rub a hand down his back. “Right.” Not in most circumstances, no!

Nodding gratefully, he continues. “As soon as I crouched down and saw it, it whipped its tail at me. Next thing I knew, it had stabbed me a million times.” 

“Well.” Dr. Song sighs and pulls out a pair of tweezers. “You’re not the worst case I’ve seen. Sometimes, it’s the whole face—and neck.” She waves her hand forward, and Valko scoots toward her on the table. “Let’s get to work, shall we?” 

You take a step back to give her some space, but she quickly shakes her head. “Oh no, you stay standing next to him. I might need you to hold him down.” 

──────

Right when you wonder if Valko’s death grip will shatter every bone in your hand, Dr. Song holds up the final quill in triumph. “That’s nineteen quills total. Looks like Mr. Porcupine let you off easy.” 

Valko kicks the air in desolation. “Doesn’t feel like it.” 

“It will when you wake up tomorrow and you don’t have to wonder, ‘How did it even get my nostrils?’,” she retorts, heading to the door. “Now, let me just get your treatment, and you’ll be free to go.” 

The second she steps into the hall, Valko turns to you and whimpers. “It hurts.” 

Frowning in sympathy, you run your free hand through his hair. “How bad?”

“Really.” 

You start to shush him and scratch the backs of his ears how he likes, but approaching footsteps force him to regain his composure. Still, when Dr. Song re-enters the room, he holds your hand a little tighter. 

“All right,” she begins. “I’m going to disinfect and put ointment on the wounds, and…” She pulls out a familiar, conical object from behind her back. 

Valko freezes as soon as he sees it. Your own mouth parts in shock. 

Is that…? 

No way. 

“...to keep them from getting infected, either through scratching or contamination, I recommend you wear this recovery cone for a week. Just to be safe.” 

When she waves the transparent cone through the air, Valko sputters in consternation. “You want to put me in jail?”

“Of course not. You’ve done nothing wrong. But to prevent further irritation, it’s best that for the next seven days, you only remove this from your neck when absolutely necessary. Also, you should avoid certain skin-to-skin activities that may aggravate the entry spots.” 

You understand her implication, but Valko’s tail thrashes in unease. “What…what kind of activities?” 

The doctor smiles down at him. “The usual. Scenting, kissing, anything further than that. Now! Raise your head for me so I can clean the punctures.” 

Before he does, Valko gives you a look that needs no decoding: I think I’m gonna be sick. 

Day 1

Your keys clatter on the kitchen counter as Valko trails inside behind you. 

Knowing he’ll be glum about his current confinement, you try to get ahead of it, hoping you can offset the bad with so much good, he’ll forget about being in plastic prison.

“So, is there anything you want to do this evening? Watch a drama, make double chocolate chip cookies, play a video game? I could order in from your favorite steakhouse if you want. Or we could go for a walk?” 

Despite your efforts, his lips stay curved downward. His ears barely twitch at the mention of his favorite things. 

“Okay, what about—”

“I look dumb,” he mumbles suddenly, blinking at you through the cone. It surrounds his head like petals to a flower, stopping just above his nose. He looks like an upright bullhorn, or perhaps a frilled lizard, but you can’t tell him that. 

“You look safe,” you say instead. “That’s what matters, yeah?”

“Not when I look dumb, too.” With a huff, he reaches behind his head, eager to free himself of Conecatraz. But before he can undo the clasp, you’re crossing your arms and tapping your foot, giving him a withering glare. 

“You know you aren’t supposed to touch that. Put your hands down.”

“Make me.”

Oh, really? That’s how it is?

Scoffing, you cock your head at him, and the first signs of regret appear on his face. “‘Make’ you, huh? Should I call the vet and tell her what you’re up to? I’m sure she has advice for patients who break the rules. Like, maybe if you mess with your cone too much and stunt your healing progress, you’ll just have to wear it even longer to make up for it?” You start to turn, ready to stalk toward the house phone. 

“No, wait!” Lurching forward, he tries to bend down to snuggle you in apology—a favorite habit of his. But you sidestep him quickly, clicking your tongue in admonishment. 

As he loses his balance, he gives you a look of ultimate betrayal.

“Don’t pout at me. I'm doing this for you, okay? You heard the doctor. Where your face is concerned, skin-to-skin contact is off limits for now.”

As if he didn't hear you, he ducks toward you again, desperate to marry his cone to your shoulder. This time, you give his arm a healthy pinch, and he yelps in shock.

“No, Koko. It's for your own good.”

Frustration grows on his face, beginning to claw at your heart, too. He’s never had to limit contact with you like this. Even when you first met, he was stuck to you like a magnet. 

Sighing, you try to bring him some comfort. “Here. Get on your knees.” 

He follows the order without further prompting, sinking to his knees on the kitchen floor. Even like this, he’s still half your height. 

“Come here.” Reaching through the cone’s opening, you pet the top of his head, running your fingers through his soft strands with care. When he leans into your touch, you trace his ears with light strokes and smile when he shudders. Gradually, the deep frown on his face shrinks to a mild line of displeasure. 

He wraps his strong arms around your thighs in a stubborn thank-you, and you can't help but coo down at him. “You’re my big, strong wolf, aren’t you? It’ll be over before you know it. You can handle this, no problem.” 

Day 3

Valko could not handle it, and there were many problems. 

In fact, while he was bored out of his mind the night of Day 2, he pried open his laptop and drafted a list of complaints.

Eating has become an unpleasant experience. While he’s permitted to remove the cone at mealtimes, he must eat in a separate room so your scent doesn’t lure his unprotected self over. Worse, you will not enter the room until he’s refastened the cone around his neck. The humiliation of having to cone himself solely to win your presence is quickly becoming too much to bear. 

You won’t let him go on errands with you, lest he get into something he shouldn't and aggravate his wounds. This makes him incredibly restless—especially when you come home smelling like other people and things, and there’s nothing he can do about it. This causes significant anxiety and emotional distress. 

He usually sleeps with his tail curled around you and his face shoved deep into your skin. This earns him a constant stream of your scent. However, a wall of pillows now separates your sides of the bed. Even worse, he is not permitted to remove the cone for the night. This causes discomfort and loss of familiarity, which undermines the restorative purpose of sleep. He will be sending you any medical bills that arise due to his sleep deprivation. 

Last, but perhaps most important: the cone obstructs his view of you, which he depends on for energy throughout the day. (You’re quick to deem this one questionable, because the cone is fully see through???)

A document of his grievances was taped to your blanket, just over your heart, this morning. 

Clearly, he had a lot on his mind. 

Now, you lie on the sofa watching TV, trying to cuddle with him as best you can. Your fingers are intertwined, and he’s sprawled awkwardly across your lap, face up and eyes begging. You try to ignore the incessant nonverbal pleading, rubbing circles into his skin with your thumb. 

Sometimes, he turns his head into your belly—or maybe a little lower—and inhales as deeply as he can through the plastic. When you gasp and swat at him, suddenly scandalized, he only huffs and grumbles, bringing you closer. “Just let me have this.”

As the sun dips in the sky, he almost relaxes. He grows captivated by the nature show you’re watching, ears going into overdrive from all the birdsongs and animal calls. It’s the calmest he’s been in the last three days, you think—until the “woodland creatures” portion of the show begins.

His mortal enemy lies in wait within.

“It’s not as big as the one that did this to me,” he growls at the porcupine stumbling around on the screen. “He was a monster.”

“I’m sure he was,” you answer automatically. You’re used to this by now. “How else could he have taken you down?”

Valko grunts in agreement, then pauses the TV. “Can we do something else now?”

“Okay.” You squint at him warily. “Something like what?”

Slowly, as if you won’t be able to see him, he trails his hand down your side, gently squeezing at your hip.

“No,” you sigh, firmly returning his hand to him. 

Tuning out his protests, you unpause the show. At that moment, a closeup of the porcupine’s snout fills the screen.

“Can you at least change the channel, then?” he mumbles.

Day 5

Since you’ve known him, Valko has never been one to give up. Driven and scrupulous, he approaches life with an outlook that’s both endearing and exhausting: if not now, maybe later.

It’s no surprise, then, when his attempts to hold and claim you like normal escalate to new heights. 

One time, you catch him in the midst of the most primal desperation. 

It’s not even noon yet, but here he is: laid out nude in the middle of your bed, head propped on his set of pillows while he clutches one of yours to his cone. With his instincts compromised and your scent already flooding his nose, he can’t yet tell that you’ve entered the room. And boy. If you thought he was shameless in public, Valko in private is a whole different animal.

His hand is all but glued to the heavy bulk between his legs, pumping and twisting like he’ll die if he doesn’t. 

His thumb circles his tip as he works his rhythm, abs flexing with each ragged breath. Every soft, broken moan of your name is an axe to your resolve. 

Before you do something you’ll regret, you try to back out of the bedroom and leave. But as soon as one foot is out the door, your shoulder hits the wall with a quiet thump. 

You freeze instantly, your heart dropping to your feet.

There’s no point in hoping he didn’t hear. To Valko, no sound is ever quiet.

He jerks his head toward you immediately, steady pumps getting wilder the moment your eyes meet. “Fuck,” he pants, writhing desperately on the sheets. His massive thighs tremble with every movement, sending tiny shocks of heat to your core. “Fuck.”

“Valk—”

“Please help me. Please, it hurts so bad. I need you so bad, please, it’s been days.”

You bite your lip so hard, you think you’ll draw blood. “You know I can’t.”

“I don’t care what the vet said,” he growls, fist finally coming to a stop. “I care about you.” 

Clinging to resolve, you cross your arms and stay put. At that, he closes his eyes and breathes slow and deep through his nose.

“Just— Help me finish, please. You don’t have to touch anywhere near my face. That’s the rule, right?”

As that pleading stare pins you to the spot once more, you bite your lip in consideration. He’s flushed all over, and a thin sheen of sweat coats his whole body. He really does need your help, but can you risk it?

When his mask slips, letting the hungry glint in his eyes shine through, you know you can’t.

“I won’t touch you, Valko. But you can use this.” Swiftly, you tug your shirt over your head and toss it onto the bed. He catches it with ease, and behind the cone, his face contorts in bewilderment.

“Use it?”

“To finish,” you explain, folding your arms across your bra. “It’s the safest way I can help you right now.”

Gazing at you like you’re a deity reborn, he presses the fabric to his cone’s exterior, right outside his nose. As he inhales, a deep, guttural groan escapes him. “Thank you,” he pants. His hand returns to his reddened length, and he redoubles his earlier efforts. 

Leaking arousal glistens on his skin, and you can hear how much easier it makes things for him. Covered in his own desire, he slides his hand up and down with no friction, creating lewd, wet sounds that echo through the room. 

“Thank you, thank you— Fuck, thank you. I’ve done this like ten times already, and it’s taken me longer every go,” he admits shamelessly. “This is so much better. Not as good as you, but so much better. Thank you.” 

He bucks his hips into his giant fist, and for a moment, you fear your shared bed might collapse under his ferocity. Once he starts licking the cone’s wall, as if he’ll be able to taste your shirt through the plastic, you almost want to avert your eyes and leave the two of them alone together. 

You don’t have long to ponder it. Soon after, Valko comes quickly with a deep groan of your name, coating his skin in spills of white. As he convulses in pleasure, you approach his bedside to stroke his hair through the cone’s opening—just like you have for the last several days. Valko whines at your touch. 

“Shh, baby. It’s okay,” you whisper. “Just two more days, yeah?”

His response is halfway between a growl and a grunt. Chuckling, you bend to kiss his damp, darkened hair. “Just two more days.” 

Day 7

At 12 a.m., you wake to an empty bed. “Koko?”

There’s no response to your call. Groaning, you throw off the covers and stretch your tired limbs. Where did he run off to? It’s barely been two hours since you went to bed.

Hugging yourself to keep warm, you pad into the dark hallway. The home gym is clear, and he’s not in the kitchen sneaking chocolate. Where could he be?

It doesn’t take long to find out.

In the living room, Valko stands at the back door, gazing at the moon through the window. 

He’s clad only in loose grey sweats. More notably, he’s missing his cone. 

The only indication that he knows you’re there is a near imperceptible twitch of his ears. “It’s day seven, did you know that?” he rumbles. 

Suddenly nervous, you shift on your feet. “I did.” 

“So you also know what I’ve been missing the last seven days.” He turns to face you, eyes stormy and narrowed. “What I haven’t been able to stop thinking about. What I begged you to give me, but you refused. Acted like you were doing me a favor,” he spits out, lips curling into a snarl.

In the moonlight filtering through the window, his amber eyes are a new level of otherworldly. Pale, greyish-white slivers flicker across his chest, making his taut abs seem to ripple in front of you. 

After seven days, he looks very, very grumpy.

You get the sense that you’re in trouble. 

“Koko,” you start, stepping forward to placate him, “you know that’s not—”

“Don’t ‘Koko’ me,” he snaps. “That’s reserved for people I’m close with.”

Is he serious? “You know I’m closer to you than anyone.”

“Right now? After this week? I’m not so sure. But you will be.” His tail swishes behind him as he takes a menacing step toward you. “Come here,” he growls out. 

“We can talk about this, but I’m not going to—”

“Three.”

“Okay, are you seriously threatening me with a countdown?”

“Two.” 

“That’s my thing! You know, when you won’t let me get out of bed, or when you bite too hard, or—”

He doesn’t let you get to “one.”

When he bursts forward at superhuman speed, he doesn’t even give you the chance to run. 

You’re in his arms in an instant, thrashing wildly as he tries to pull you both to the floor. “You’re heavy as fuck!” you bark at him. “Let me go!”

“No.” He overpowers you easily, lowering you to the carpet and quickly pinning you there. He only takes a moment to revel in your submission—your high squeaks and whimpers and feeble attempts to swat him off. Evidently, he has bigger plans for you.

While you wriggle beneath him, he deftly kicks off his sweats and quickly deals with your clothes. You’re wearing only a nightshirt—his, you notice all too late—and completely vulnerable to his impatience.

He rips a line straight down the middle, clumsily shrugging the worn fabric off you. While you’re too busy gawking to register his actions, he slides down your body, coming to a halt at your traitorously wet heat. 

“Usually, at least a little bit of my scent lingers here,” he says, inhaling you deeply. “You’ve lost it after not taking me for so long. But we’ll fix it, won’t we?”

When you don’t respond, his eyes flash up at you. “Won’t we?”

“Y-Yeah,” you whisper, signing away your fate.

“Yeah, we will.” Surging forward, he places an open-mouthed kiss to your entrance, swirling his tongue into you without warning. His ensuing groan could start a national scandal. 

“I’m gonna let you go, all right?” He nips your inner thigh. “Don’t try to run from me. I’ll catch you.” 

He watches closely as he eases off of you, but there’s no need—you obey. 

“Good girl,” he mocks, and you break his gaze with a huff. 

Chuckling, he sweeps his hair back and lies down on the carpet, grabbing your arm and dragging you to him. “Sit on me.”

“…What?”

“My face. Sit on it.”

“…What?” 

“Oh, I get it. Is this a ‘make me’ kind of thing? Well, if you insis—”

“No!” You hold your hands out in defense, grimacing when he grins at you. “You know we’ve never…done that before.”

He shrugs. “First time for everything. Hop on.”

You stay put, shaking your head with vigor no matter how hard your center pulses. “What if you can’t breathe?”

“Don’t need to.”

“I think you do, but okay.” Playing with your fingers, you search for another excuse. “What if I’m too heavy?”

Valko’s smile slips, and his top lip curls as he looks at you flatly. “Now you’re just insulting me.” 

In retrospect, you should’ve known that one wouldn’t get you very far.

“Fine,” you concede shakily. Crawling toward him, you put your hands on either side of his massive body and sit down on him in a straddle. Gingerly, you scoot up, and up, and up, until your hips are right below his chin. His smirk widens all the way. 

“Last chance to back out,” you offer helplessly. How would grilled porcupine taste?

“In your dreams.” In an instant, his arm shoots out behind you and guides you forward. You cry out the second your sensitive flesh meets his skin, nearly cursing from the foreign sensation. 

For a moment, all he does is breathe you in. Lewd, deep inhales, trying to siphon the scent from your depths. “Missed this,” he murmurs, words slightly muffled. “Missed you. Fuck, you’re so good. You smell so good.”

You’re afraid to look down, but you don’t have to. You can hear his smile.

Instead, you look behind you, seeing that his thick, veiny length is flushed and leaking already. Your gulp echoes in your ears. 

A soft press of his lips to your throbbing clit pulls you back to your senses. With another kiss, he positions the bud over his nose and your entrance over his mouth, so he’s sure to catch all your desire.

When he squeezes your hip, you know he’s asking for more. Gently, timidly, you rock against his face to appease him. Valko, though, ever observant when you’re involved, knows you’re withholding your full weight. 

And he won’t have it. 

Simultaneously, he delivers a sharp slap to your backside and nips your clit in warning. When you squeal out into the cool air, he soothes the sting with a searing lash of his tongue. 

“I’m trying!” you cry. “Whenever we do this, I’m always the one on my back! I feel weird.”

Squeezing your hips, he lifts you up just enough to speak. “Tough.”

Then, he plops you right back down, the smack of skin on skin spreading a wildfire across your cheeks.

Eager to explore, he glides his tongue around your core, poking and prodding wherever he likes. When you arch away from the pleasure, too sensitive to stay still, he decides he’s had enough. 

His tight grip on your hips is his first act of defiance. But when he starts bouncing you on his face, alternating between his mouth and nose, you’re more than ready to throw in the towel. 

“Valko!” you whine. Up and down, down and up. Up and down again and again. How long has he wanted this?

A response would require a pause in his actions, so of course, he doesn’t provide one. Instead, he flattens his tongue against your clit and makes you grind your hips down onto him, like he’s nothing but an extension of you. “Valko!” you repeat, stars quickly clouding your vision.

All he offers is an unburdened grunt, clearly not planning on stopping anytime soon. And why would he, when there’s so much to lap up?

A mix of his saliva and your arousal pools between you, with sound effects previously unheard of filling the room. You’re so wet, at one point, you almost slide down his face to his forehead—but he hauls you back up with a laugh, the vibrations only exacerbating the issue. When you pull at his hair, shy and embarrassed, he merely sucks your clit into his mouth and releases it with a pop. 

Captive to his relentless touch, it isn’t long before your muscles contract and release, sending more and more wetness gushing toward his waiting mouth. 

Your mind is a haze as he licks you clean, making sure not to waste a single drop. You do register, though, how he inhales once again when he’s finished. “Smells like me again. That’s better.”

Thinking his wrath has exhausted itself, you feel your body deflate like a popped balloon. You’re more than ready to melt into the sheets and sleep off the worst of the aftermath. 

“We should seal the deal, though. Just to be sure.”

Valko has other plans.

Before you can blink, he flips you over with force, driving your hands and knees into the carpet. When you yelp, he squeezes your backside in apology, only to slip his fingers down to your open slit. Once he confirms that you’re ready for him, he braces his hands on your hips and slides into you with ease. 

Your startled gasp is his grand opportunity. As you cry out his name, he shoves his fingers into your open mouth, making you sputter and swallow around them. With his other hand, he clamps your jaw shut so you’re forced to bite him, your blunt teeth barely a threat against his skin. 

All the while, he’s moaning and laughing, hips stuttering from his rapid thrusts. Each time his base slaps your backside, you feel him grow larger and larger, until you’re being speared on something you’re not sure you can take. But as your muscles contract around him once more, squeezing him with all that they have, you don’t think that matters anymore.

In tune with your own release, hot spurts shoot deep into your channel, followed by a searing, swollen pressure you don’t know if you’ll ever get used to. It’s at this point that the last of your strength crumbles. But when you start to slump into the floor, you find you can’t move too far—not without bringing Valko with you. 

As you both catch your breath, locked together until the comedown, he slides his hand out of your mouth and slaps your cheek lightly, signaling for you to open your screwed-shut eyes. When you do, he sticks his drool-coated fingers into his own mouth, canines poking into his flesh as he swipes his tongue greedily. 

All you can do is whine.

You don’t know when your bodies will loosen up enough for you to separate. All you know is that he’s got you here, right where he wants you, for a long, long, agonizingly long time. 

──────

“Are you satisfied?” you deadpan as the beast finally tucks you into bed. 

“For now.” You can hear his smirk as he flicks off the lights. Doesn’t make much of a difference, though.

It’s dawn. 

“But you can check back with me in an hour. Maybe my answer will be different.”

“In an hour, I will be dead to the world and recovering from you,” you grumble. Suddenly, you purse your lips. “I’m gonna miss that cone, you know.”

Even in the dim morning light, you can see his brows furrow. “What?” 

“You looked cute in it. Like a little puppy.” Reaching out, you grab his face and squish his cheeks between your fingers. “So cute.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, but his tail thumps the mattress. “Whatever. It did have its benefits, though. Tonight was so good, I wouldn’t mind a repeat.”

“You really think you can do that again? Seven whole days, no contact?”

“‘Course I do. It wasn’t that hard for me.”

Your eyes narrow into slits. “Not even you believe that.” 

“Yeah. This was fun, though,” he says through a yawn. “We should do it again sometime. Goodnight.”

As he rolls over and tucks his tail around you, blanketing you in half his body weight, a nagging thought won’t leave your head.

Should you switch vets? 

requested tags (you have been warned): @creator-freak, @hughugh20, @saineden, @driedrosesanddaffodils, @pjselee, @strawberrybananamin, @applefishiedragonluvin, @oolong-tea-leaf, @ceceoboro, @simpforsylus3, @akisashtray

[bfbkg]

Bkg who never drinks but gets drunk one night n all the guys are talking about sex and giving advice and denki asks bkg for his opinion and they all start dogging on him thinking he doesn’t know shit…

bakugou is only drinking because you’re on holiday right now with your girls. without you around, his whole routine has gone out of whack. no visiting you after work or picking you up from your writing class. no lounging on your sofa as he cooks you fancy pasta in your tiny kitchen with your roommate next door. he saves some for her also.

bakugou feels like a train run off the tracks, a zombie in his body, all the colours in his world have fallen flat.

so he’s taken to one of the most popular vices, alcohol with his buddies. his buddies aren’t helping. kaminari doesn’t know how to please this new girl he’s seeing and kirishima thinks he’s suitable to give advice. the third beer bakugou has downed makes them less annoying. just a smidge.

bakugou leans his head on the back of kirishima’s sofa, staring blankly at the ceiling. his beer fisted on his knee. you’re probably leaving the beach now, in that pretty striped bikini you snapped a photo of a few hours ago. you said you were going to sunbathe, eat snacks, listen to music and read your book. group solo time you said. he wishes he was with you now.

“and i know she’s going to leave me for it,” kaminari whines into his palms, “b-but i tell her that i can keep going but she says no she’s fine. i think she finds it awkward because i just came and she hasn’t.”

kirishima knocks his empty can on his coffee table. it’s surprising he’s even got one in his only basic necessities needed bachelor pad.

“you don’t finger her at the beginning? eat her out? girls love that.”

bakugou looks at his phone. no notifications from you. he huffs.

“why are you huffing and not helping me! i’m crying for help here!” kaminari moans, then burps right after. bakugou winces. “i do all the foreplay! she doesn’t come during that either!”

bakugou entertains him. he swings his head on the sofa to look at one of his longest friends. “the fuck are you doin’ if she’s not comin’ when you’re eatin’ her?”

even though kaminari asked him, he and kirishima turn to look at bakugou with these slow drunken blinks.

“hah? what?”

“what do you know about….” kaminari starts.

kirishima leans forward to his best friend, truly interested in his answer, “sexually pleasing women?”

“what are you two idiots on? obviously i know.” though bakugou flushes red at the topic.

sure he’s not the most experienced in womenkind but he is in one. he knows what you like.

“wait how—,” kirishima starts but kaminari cuts in with desperation neither men have seen before.

“kacchan how!” he cries, hands clasped together and shaking in bakugou’s face. “how do i make my lady orgasm?”

bakugou’s quick to push kaminari away, having him fly to the other side of the sofa but still, he looks to him for answers with eager eyes.

“get the hell off me!” bakugou says then remembers to check his phone. still no text from you. not even an update on the sunset on the beach? a selfie? damn. he shuts his device and looks to his friends. “the problem is you idiots callin’ it foreplay. touchin’ her is sex.”

“kacchan!” he urges.

“fuck! i usually eat her out and when she’s close, i add in my fingers. shit has her comin’ down my wrist on command.” bakugou blurts like the words were dragged out of his throat. then his blush deepens. he takes a swig of his beer.

kaminari’s mouth gapes open, “what the fuck? tell me HOW. in DETAIL!”

“who?” kirishima asks, tilting his chair to look at bakugou properly. “why didn’t you tell your brothers you had a girlfriend?”

“none of your fuckin’ business.”

“i bet you told deku!”

“fuck off about deku…,” then bakugou sighs. no notifications, “i met her through round face. she told him.”

“guys we’re going off topic. tell me how kacchan.” kaminari asks, about to crawl into bakugou’s lap.

bakugou shrugs. large motions all huffy and dramatic.

“it’s f-fuckin’ instinctual,” bakugou rubs his eyes. alcohol and thinking about your pussy around his friends. this wasn’t how he was expecting his evening to go. “i just suck and lick at her clit. i’m loud and messy with it… she likes that. stick my tongue in her, kiss her thighs. i dunno i just do everythin’. then when she’s about to come, she gets all grabby at my hair, pushin’ my head into her so i finger her. she explodes with these cute ass squeals.”

“shit, man,” from kirishima.

“damn kacchan… feel like i needa be making notes.” kaminari inches towards bakugou and bakugou grunts, spreading his legs to get comfortable. “but wait, before that, what happens? and what’s the technique when you give head? a—and your fingers—,”

it’s the alcohol that makes bakugou really consider his questions. thinking about you softens him, gets him warm and fuzzy inside.

“my woman told me that foreplay starts in the mornin’. she likes when i kiss her awake and sweet talk her. cute texts during the day. cookin’ for her and havin’ a plan for the evenin’ even if it’s watchin’ a movie. means when we start makin’ out on the sofa she’s climbin’ all over me, grindin and feelin’ for my dick.”

bakugou looks his friends up and down. “i don’t do all that to get my dick wet though. i do it ‘cause i like seein’ her happy.” then after frowning, “i do like eatin’ her pussy. i miss her.”

kirishima feels the urge to open hinge and messaging his matches. he wants whatever his best friend has.

“where is she?”

“on holiday with her friends.”

“why didn’t you go?”

“i said with her fuckin’ friends. i’m not her friend. why would i be there?” he snaps.

kirishima shrugs. “can we see a photo? what’s she look like?”

bakugou can do that. he goes into his photo gallery. he’s got so many photos of you to choose from.

“do you alternate between small licks and big licks? and your fingers, what’s the motion?”

bakugou rolls his lips in pondering, “big one at the start just to taste everythin’. then small licks on her clit. whatever gets her moanin’ loud.” he lazily flicks through selfies of you, “i curl my fingers inside her. brush against her insides.”

“and—,”

“this her.” bakugou thrusts his phone in his friends faces.

it’s a selfie you took yesterday on a boat in your striped bikini. the sun beams down on you beautifully, making you glow while the sea is bright blue behind you. you’re smiling, squinting slightly from the sun.

“don’t look too goddamn hard!” he barks once two heads duck closer to his phone.

“what’s her name? she’s gorgeous?”

“oh wow!”

bakugou doesn’t have a chance to answer when his phone is overcome from a phone call, showing your first name and last name.

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” bakugou whips up from his seat, “she hasn’t called all day. i’m goin’ into your bedroom. don’t wait up for me.”

bakugou storms into kaminari’s bedroom, answering the phone in haste, “baby, finally. i’ve been waitin’ for you to call… no, i’m not drunk…. just a lil.”

once the bedroom door clicks shut, kirishima sighs, “i’m gonna get back on hinge… actuslly maybe ochako has some friends for me?”

“shit! i didn’t ask what he cooks yn! or what does he mean by curl?”

[madamechrissy]

please, please, please

You love being Satoru Gojo's girlfriend, he dotes on you, takes you on dates, spoils you - just one little problem, you are perpetually ovulating around him! Is wanting your nerdy boyfriend's cock in your mouth really such a bad thing? Satoru wants to wait for the perfect moment for your first time, though! He'll totally wait even when you're wearing that slutty lil dress and grinding on him, right?

pairings - nerd! gojo x girlfriend! reader

warnings - cute and silly, oral over panties/boxers, Satoru edging tf outta us -- reader is horny, Shoko/Hime, Sukuna being a fratboy dick, jealous Toru, rough blow jobs, p in v sex, first time, squirting, teasing, fingering, creampie, consent, breed kink, making your nerdy boyfriend feral and spit in your mouth <3

art creds here!!

this was a comm for my angel @cantarcantar!! ty for understanding that my life was like INSANE - ilysm for being patient <3 wc - 10.1k

It took you almost two years of crushing on Satoru Gojo to actually become his girlfriend, and you’re loving every minute of it. From being too damn shy to admit you like him, to very awkwardly trying to confess and every chance just utterly failing – to then instead becoming the very best of friends.

You two were finally ‘officially together’ as a couple.

Oh, and it was everything, being in his arms, swallowed up by those huge biceps he had hidden underneath his starch white dress shirts. Hearing that little laugh from his lips, all of those sweet little kisses he bestowed upon you – truly, all the feelings blossoming between the two of you in the most beautiful way, especially over the months of truly being his girlfriend.

He’d take you out for all day movie marathons, going to play bumper cars, mini golf, you name it – Satoru was down for it. Every date was a meticulously planned out one too, with little to no down time aside from the drive to and from. Perhaps that’s where you would sneak just the littlest pecks on his neck, hear his sighs as he gripped the gear shift of that fancy sports car.

Satoru adored you – and you adored him.

You were all his. There was no one else in the entire world than the boy who could never quite tie that tie on correctly, always just a little crooked for you to straighten out.

Yet with that came you being unreasonably horny all the fucking time, who wouldn’t be with Satoru though? Those long fingers pressing into your waist, the way that bulge pressed between your thighs, plump lips slipping up your throat. Every time it even got just a little close, maybe you were grinding so good that you were about to cum from that – he paused it.

Wearing a cute, bashful little smile on his face, fogged up, thick rimmed glasses – murmuring sweetheart in a voice that’s designed to make your pussy drip, and you feel like a complete pervert for wanting to beg for more. God, imagining his cock in your throat alone had you desperate and needy, let alone having him filling you, pumping you full, taking you first.

Maybe you are a pervert, truly.

You’ve tried so hard to be patient, you want him to want it as badly as you do, but every time you’re making out with your boyfriend – the top of the dean’s list and ultimate dungeon master for DnD – Satoru Gojo?

Every time his big ass hands grip your waist and he drags you down against his length, before he puts a pause on it?

You can’t even think about it.

You’re pumping your fingers in your needy cunt just thinking about it after every damn date with this boy. Whining out in your bed with your hips bucking up, gasps escaping your lips desperately in your empty room. Pumping faster and faster until you’ve got that sticky release all over your hand.

It’s almost as if you have this sort of ritual now, before you see your boyfriend and right after/.

Your rose toy is probably fucking tired of you.

As if you don’t you ache so damn bad around him it’s painful, hard not to shamelessly hump his thigh till you cum. No, the toy? This takes the edge off just a bit, but even the way you moan his name in your sleep is endlessly hilarious to your poor roommates that have to hear you between the walls of your off campus apartment.

“Still a virgin?” Utahime asked with a laugh when you had woken up this morning, getting ready to see Satoru.

“Not by choice,” you grumble, shaking your head and grabbing a coffee pod from the little rack, popping your favorite inside and pressing the on button. The aroma hits immediately, waking your tired brain.

You’d had the filthiest damn dream of him fucking your tits, cock sliding up and down in messy strokes that had you needing a damn shower right now.

You’re just perpetually ovulating.

Satoru is the perfect boyfriend, truly he is. He’s sweet, he’s a gentleman despite his blue eyes and where they glance too long. Mostly, he cares. You’ve fallen so in love with him so quickly over these past few months, but every time you think that things might progress, Satoru stops it. Gently lifting you up off his lap and sighing, kissing his way up your jaw, his snowy lashes tickling your cheek.

‘Sweetheart, let’s pause this,’ he would murmur those words all sweet and sultry against your skin after almost sucking on those nipples that just stay hard around this man, instead hovering a breath away so it ghosts your tits. Those huge hands brushing just underneath them.

It’s torture, really.

‘Oh, okay Toru,’ you’d whisper back, he’d moan and kiss up your neck, breaths tickling your skin. ‘Mnh…’

‘You’re so beautiful, god look at you.’

It was just wrong to talk to you like that!

“You poor baby. At least you have your toy collection,” Shoko teases, sneaking in and brushing your hair back. “Extensive, too.”

You flip her off, peeking at the phone then and seeing Satoru's name pop up.

Study session?

“Dick session?” She asks, you gasp, as if affronted at such a suggestion.

“I would never assume such a thing!”

You hope so.

*****

It’s not.

No, it’s not a dick session at all.

It really is an actual goddamn study session – both of you were sitting there in Satoru’s living room, his place was far fancier than anywhere, but that came from him being the Dean’s very son. It intimidated you a little at first, but now you’ve grown comfortable, as he made you feel so special.

Today though?

Well, you can’t focus on anything but how badly you’d love to kneel and suck your nerdy boyfriend, his thighs spread wide all slutty.

God his legs are long.

You bet his cock is-

“And this equation?” Satoru teasingly asks you, distracting you from your slutty freaking brain.

You're not even sure what stumbles out of your mouth for an answer, without saying how thick you think the circumference of his cock must be.

That is something you’ve done with your past experiences, and you know you’re good at it. You could easily deep throat a man and you wanted to see his cock so damn bad – could he be a challenge, though?

Your eyes drift down his chest, he peeks at you curiously.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He asks casually, spinning his pen between his fingers and studying you. “Hard question?”

“Um… yeah, a very hard time…”

Stop that! Stop looking at his dick print!

“The question is hard?”

“Uh… the question… yes.” You feel like a damn pervert every time you’re around him, can’t you chill and let things happen when they happen?

He sighs and stands up, stretching his arms up over his head, his abdomen revealed when his dress shirt rides up, showing those little v cuts that make your ovulating brain just a million times worse. It’s like you’re in heat. It's so pathetic right now – maybe you should avoid him till it stops.

“Let’s take a break then.”

“Yeah?”

He chuckles at how eager you are at the thought and comes up to you, leaning down with a hand on each arm of your chair, tilting his head so some of that soft white hair falls over his forehead. You brush a bit of it back and he kisses your palm, lips warm and sweet.

“You’ve been such a good girl, how can I not treat you a bit?” Your heart hammers in your chest, until those next words spill from his lips. “Boba?”

“What? Huh?” You blink as he eases back, pulling up his phone and leaning against the desk. “Boba??”

“Yeah, Boba, I’ll buy you some, I know you love it,” he smiles curiously as you bury your face in your hands. “No Boba? Matcha then?”

“I’m um…” About to cum if he touches you once even. “No, I guess Boba is fine. Thanks Toru.” you manage to say, thighs pressing together, Satoru frowns, kneeling now and gently taking your hands off your face, seeing your blush.

“Are you sick!? You’re all flushed!”

“I’m not-”

“You’re burning,” he touches your cheek in concern, and you almost fucking feel bad – you’re not sick, you’re ovulating. “Baby girl, let’s get you to a doctor right now!"

“No, no I feel fine, I’m not warm because of that,” you shift in your seat and whine out at just that friction. “Promise.”

He frowns and watches you carefully. “You’re hurting, it could be the start of something!”

“Well yeah I hurt,” you sigh as he spreads your thighs and kneels between them, shoving at him. “You’ll make it even worse down there.”

“I’ll make what worse, exactly? Your…” He trails off then, seeing your panties and blushing himself, pink dancing across his high cheekbones and dusting them in that rose. “Y-your… your panties are so… uh… s-soaked and…”

You should freak out at this proximity, at just how much he can finally see of you, but all you can do is whine again, as his eyes shoot back up to yours. “I’m okay, promise.”

“Am I neglecting my pretty girlfriend?” He asks softly, just a little nervous. Satoru has never touched anyone but you, but he’s extensively studied the female anatomy, and how to make you cum.

He just wanted your first time to be perfect.

That’s why he was waiting – the last thing he needed was for you to not enjoy your first time, though he knows you’re a little more experienced than he is – Satoru’s hardly kissed anyone before you. Not because he couldn’t – he just had no interest in that sort of thing until he met you – and even then, he really couldn’t find the damn courage to ask you out forever.

“No I’m being a damn pervert,” you cover your face and he chuckles at that.

“You’re being a what, now?”

You sink into the seat, mumbling. “You heard me.”

He’d been your best friend for so long, thinking there was no chance in the world – always jerking his cock with any article of clothing you’d leave in his room, like a filthy depraved pervert – and you think you were one perverted here?

Does him wanting the timing to be just right making you think that?

Satoru exhales softly, just a hint of what he wants to say slipping from his plump lips.

“What, do you touch your little pussy thinking of me?”

His voice has you lowering your hands, he spreads those thighs and slides up your skirt, making you moan out, head falling back, your hands gripping the arms of the chair even tighter.

“Wha-?” You can’t even finish your damn word.

“Asked you a question, baby.”

“God,” he’s diabolical without knowing – or maybe he does know. You’re trembling as you lean back, letting his thumb brush on your clit and gasping at the touch, already getting slick from a brush on your skin. “What question?”

“Not paying attention, tsk,” he clicks his tongue and his teeth nip your inner thigh, sinking in and making you whine out. “Do you touch her?”

“Y-yes,” he hums a bit, tugging your panties up until your lips are visible, that dark spot growing as slick starts pouring. “Please…”

“Be patient, baby,” he leans back now, smirking at you. “Show me?”

“Are you sure you…”

“Please? I wanna see so bad,” you blush now, you masturbate sure – but not in front of people! “I’ll show you?”

“Show me you um… jerking off?”

“Yeah, I mean… yeah?” You sigh a bit.

“Toru…”

“Mmm?”

“Why don’t I um… suck you?” He is bright red now, he’s almost busting just thinking of your mouth – that won’t do. His first blow job and he busts in one go!? No, Satoru has to jerk it three times before he gets the privilege of fucking your pretty little mouth, of feeling your pink tongue on him.

“Not yet.”

“Not yet? But you’re so hard,” you giggle and tease him with your foot nudging his thigh, he glares and catches it, shoving it wide. “Not yet, then. So you just wanna see me touch myself?”

“God yes, dreamed of that since…” He trails off then, he doesn’t want to admit just how long he’s jerked off to you, because it was before you even knew who Satoru Gojo was. “Lemme see.”

“Okay…” you lean back, running your fingertips over your panties, slipping underneath and leaning your head back, eyes fluttering shut, hearing Satoru’s soft little whine. “Toru…”

“Fuck,” he thought he could handle this, but he’s utterly failing, he can’t even see your pretty pussy and he’s already throbbing, leaking so much pre it hurts, sticking to his brand new digimon boxers. “You’re s’pretty, sweetheart.”

You blush as you look at him with dazed eyes, running little circles right around your puffy clit, coated in hot slick as it dribbles out of your panties. He swipes some of it on his fingers, studying it carefully, his tongue going to lap at it, moaning as the sweetness coats his tongue.

“Oh you’re t-tasting me,” it makes you needier, until you have to plunge two fingers inside your messy, quivering hole, that loud squelch echoing in your ears. He’s gripping your thigh with one hand bruising until you cry out.

“Fuck, so s-sorry… baby I hurt… y-you…”

“No, no, like it,” he moans and puts his hand back on your thigh, squeezing again so hard it aches. He's jerking his cock faster, whining out when he sees your slick fingers pull out of your panties. You press your cum soaked fingers to his lips and he eagerly wraps them around, sucking them off. “Toru…”

“So sweet, my pretty girlfriend,” his glasses fog up when he leans down, licking your inner thigh that is trembling, sliding higher until his tongue is on you – but it's not on your skin, it's on the soaked cotton of your panties.

“Fuck…” he moans as he gets those juices that are spilling through the fabric, his and squeezing his own cock as your thighs sit over his shoulders. 

“More, please,” you're tugging at his hair so hard it hurts, bucking up your hips for more. “I need you, please.”

“Such a needy girlfriend,” he murmurs, thumb circling his drooling tip, looking up at you with desperation in his pretty blue eyes. “You want me to lick it more for you?”

Your answer is a little nod, even having him lick you over your panties is more than you've ever had done, and fuck it feels good. Sinful as he trails a long, slow stripe over the fabric, the tip stopping right over your twitchy clit, his moan is muffled against the damp cotton.

“Toru!” He's lost in your scent, in that taste, the little hints of lace decorating your panties rough against his tongue, the sound is fucking filthy.

Satoru tugs those panties up more firmly, strings of gossamer saliva dripping and dissolving, peering up at you with flushed cheeks. “Like that, baby? Is this what you were thinking about instead of studying?”

Your only answer is to nod quickly, a jerky little motion as he sees those puffy lips just swallowing the damp material. He swipes his tongue over and over, the heat and wetness of his mouth making your entire body tremble. You feel it heating up, hearing the messy sounds of his own cock fucking his fist, wishing it were your throat instead.

"Oh god, Toru," you whimper out it so pathetically, your hands tangling in his soft white hair, fluffy and silky underneath your touch, trying to pull him closer, to shove his face where you need it. “Not enough, mnh!”

He chuckles against your puffy cunt, the vibration and the quick lave of his tongue have you on edge. Pulse racing as he had the audacity to tease you, landing a wet smack on your cunt that had you pathetic.

"Ah - ah," he clicks his tongue, catching your wrists in one of his stupidly large hands and pinning them against your waist, smirking at you in a way that's utterly not dirty at all. "No touching yet, sweetheart. I'm taking my time with you."

“Meanie,” he chuckles again, but you love it – feeling that strength as he grips you so tight. “My panties are ruined, Toru.”

“Mmm. Yes they are,” he tugs them again, looking at how wet the material is, just a pathetic little scrap of fabric with your juices pouring.

Instead of showing you mercy and moving them, he just presses them further against you again, tongue shoving that fabric until it's flush with your needy clit, you swear you can feel his tastebuds as that tongue drags through the fabric, pausing everywhere that has you jerking and honing in.

Like this nerdy boy is studying you.

Oh. He is.

He's methodical, almost clinical with his research of your needy, clothed cunt just separated by this pathetic little piece of fabric, his tongue pressing more firmly against your soppy lil hole. She is pulsing around nothing, torturous strokes, pressing his fingers up and down, you're hot and sticky underneath his touch.

“Toru!” Your wrists are still pinned, his cock forgotten even though it's dripping down onto the soft, plush rug below his knees. Satoru finds your clit again and looks up under snowy lashes, you watch the drips of slick connect with that wickedly long tongue.

“Mmm. I bet I could see myself inside you,” he whispers, you suck in a breath at that, as if he is measuring the distance of your entrance to your belly button, easing your wrists to tug up your top, nipping your puffy lips over the fabric. “Scientifically.”

“Then experiment, scientifically.” He chuckles like the little shit he is, finding your clit once more, a hand pressing where he imagines his cock would bulge out.

“You are so needy f'me, s'pretty like this,” his words slur as he wraps his plump lips around your twitchy clit, barely concealed and swollen underneath the cotton material that is dripping wet. He pulls it in his mouth and sucks it hard through your panties, humming against you.

You're aching, cunt filling his hungry mouth as your hands land back on his hair, his movements making you cry out and buck your hips against his mouth for more.

“So sweet right now, god, look at that…”

Satoru is so close to cumming when he grabs his cock at the base again, squeezing so goddamn hard – he could almost bet that if he felt your cunt without the fabric, he'd spurt his white ropes everywhere.

Make a mess of you.

“Mnh. You close, sweetheart?”

Your answer is a jerky little nod, as he keeps torturing you with this fucking barrier, his teeth grazing that tiny clit ever so lightly through the fabric, making you scream out, your head falling back. Your panties are absolutely ruined now, utterly transparent with your slick and his spit coating them, your sweet little cries rushing through his ears.

Satoru? Well, he laps at the mess he's making happily, his tongue coating the entire area in circles that deliberately avoid that spot until you're twitching, tears falling down your cheeks.

"Such a messy girl," he moans out those words, eyes black when they peek up at you, his voice husky as your slick clings to his lips. "Soaking these pretty little panties f’me.”

“Please, Toru… move ‘em please,” he smirks and decides to have mercy on you, tugging them to the side of one of your lips and exhaling, watching the slick drool and spill down. You gasp as the air hits your cunt, already aching and needy, the dampness making it a cool shock.

“Fuck, you're so pretty,” he murmurs, his cock just about to bust without his touch, he glides his tongue from your ass all the way to your clit, looking right up at you. “Is this what you were thinking of, hmm? My tongue inside you?”

“Your cock, too,” he chuckles against you, but just a couple more flicks has you close, as he spreads your cunt wide, studying your every expression.

“Look at that. My slutty little girlfriend.”

Satoru is trying his best to hold it together, but when his tongue glides into your gummy walls and they grip him, he's too far gone, slurping up every bit of the cum that just pours out. You shatter so damn pretty, squirting all over his face, dripping down his chin until it's glossy, his cock starts pulsing right with your hole, imagining her milking him.

“F-fuckk….”

“Toru, mnh! S'good I… please…” You’re overheated, body sensitive, it’s just not enough, even with his tongue lavishing every bit of your pussy.

Not enough.

“Please what, baby? Mnh,” he grips his veiny cock as he cums with his tongue on your clit, more of your mess drenching his throat, his face, his shirt. His white ropes coat his hand, lashes fluttering shut as he savors your jumping clit in his mouth, whining against you.

“Want your cock in my mouth, Toru please…” he exhales, breath making you jolt, looking up at you with a blush.

“I um…” he leans back on his knees and you see the mess, blushing at it. 

“I didn't touch you though…”

“Didn't need to,” he's clearly a little embarrassed, you take his cum soaked hand then – dripping white – and wrap your mouth around one of his thick fingers. “Oh fuck…”

You suck him right off, tasting that salty white substance and moaning as it hits your taste buds. Satoru pulls back and laps it off his own fingers, before kissing you right with it, the mess spilling between your mouths and dripping down.

Satoru Gojo – your nerdy boyfriend with an insane Digimon collection was a fucking freak, greedily drinking his own cum off your mouth.

You’re trembling when the door knocks, and you faintly remember that he has ordered you boba. He’s the epitome of a perfect boyfriend after that, considerate, caring, cleaning the little rivulets of your own release from your inner thighs – you’re stuck back on the opposite side of the bed, cuddling him and watching a movie.

Satoru even has the audacity to snore after, heavy body wrapping as you ache to get filled by him – at least the movie was so damn boring you drift off right next to him.

****

“I’m gonna die a virgin,” you mumble to Shoko and Utahime the next weekend, aside from more heated kisses and grinding on Satoru’s thigh after your well planned out dates – nothing.

You’re aching.

How much use could your rose toy really see!? And now you even have two more toys going along with it, though you doubt any of them are getting close to Satoru and how good he must feel. No ‘clit sucker’ could come close to what that nerdy little mouth could do.

“You look like you’re dying, girl, damn…” Utahime earns your glare. “Is it that bad?”

“He finally got me off and…” You blush now, unable to finish your sentence, remembering his tongue drinking up your juices.

“Does he know what a clit is?”

“Very much so, it was so good.”

They look surprised.

“You all have no clue, he really was,” Shoko laughs at that, leaning back and hitting the vape, handing it over to you. “No, no.”

“You need a smoke, sweets,” you grimace, brushing your hair back, pacing back and forth as the two girls watch you, snuggling with each other. “You’re pacing holes in the carpet.”

“I can’t handle this, I just… god I wanna suck his dick, is it so terrible? He hasn’t even let me touch it. I sound like a horny ass man, I hate it. I wanna respect him, I really do.”

“You wanna respect him with his cock in your throat?” Shoko finishes.

“Yes. I mean!? I will respect him without the cock in my mouth! You two are menaces.”

They’re laughing like the brats they are, blowing smoke in each other’s mouths, you damn near moan in frustration. Satoru’s gotten you off that one time, then since then he has gone right back to worshipping you in the sweet way he always did, as if you’ll what – forget about his tongue?

His stupidly long fingers…

The cum on your tongue that you lapped right off!?

The taste.

“Ugh -” you lean back and sink further into the couch. “I really am gonna die.”

“Can’t die, we’ve got that party tonight,” Utahime teases, kissing Shoko’s lips and giggling just a bit, you pout at the two of them.

In public Satoru would kiss your hand at best.

Where on earth even had that freak come from that spit his cum in your mouth last week!? He’s all gone again – the pocket protector wearing Nerd Gojo in his place, like some twin fucking took over for a minute.

“I can’t go to a party and get drunk, I’ll make a fool of myself around him, one drink and my pussy has a mind of its own…” You finally sit down, plopping back into the seat. “I feel like a pervert.”

“You are! Let’s just call you fucking pervy Sage.”

“Hey!” You glare at Utahime, Shoko is inhaling another puff of smoke, you cough just a bit. 

“Hah – Sanji from One-”

“Don’t even!? I’m not that bad,” you huff at her, frowning now. “I swear I'm not trying to be pervy. God, what is in this weed?”

“Hmm,” Shoko tugs Utahime on her lap. “I wonder if he's scared you'll like … bite his dick.”

“You're so fucking mean,” you cough a little more, eyes watering as you scowl at the two of them.

“Look slutty, like really slutty,” Shoko walks up now, tilting your chin up and crooking her lips up at the corner. “Something that screams – fuck me.”

“He licked my panties and didn’t even…”

“Really slutty,” Utahime agrees, tapping her chin. “Ooh! I know, I have the perfect outfit in mind, that little black dress of yours.”

“But it’s too small for me now! It’s from like high school, and thanks to you two cooking all the time, my hips-”

“Exactly.”

“Exactly what? Oh…”

You trail off now, realizing what everyone knew – that Satoru loves your hips, he grabbed on to them every chance he got, even when he was just a little bit shy.

“Okay…”

They kiss again in front of you, laughing a bit, making you lovesick for your man – your nerdy man who you wish would kiss you in that way, tongues all dripping. It’s not even fair.

“All lovey dovey, fuck you both.”

They’re so hot and rude laughing at you – you decide to just disappear, you don’t need your hot ass best friends making out in front of you when you’re already in pain from the constant edging from Satoru. You are rushing to your room and trying on outfit after outfit, before finally deciding on the exact fucking one they brought up.

You would look as sexy as you could and hopefully get your boyfriend to not be able to resist you.

But also you’ll respect his decision, dammit! You can wait as long as he wants to, even if you were absolutely gonna put your tits and ass out there for him. Looking in the mirror and touching up your lipstick, swiping a finger across your lower lip to smudge it just a tad.

“Oh damn you look hot, Sanji,” Utahime says when you come out.

“I am not Sanji.”

“You are.”

“Fuck you both!”

*****

Satoru can’t keep his damn eyes off you.

Fuck you’re pretty tonight.

That damn little black dress clinging to your skin is fucking ruining Satoru’s mind, brain short circuiting as the two of you navigate the insanely packed frat house, one of his hands on the small of your back protectively. People are all bumping into everyone, stumbling around, absolutely no chance he lets someone hurt you by accident.

Moreso, Satoru Gojo can’t get his fucking hands off you, no, he can feel your warmth right through the thin layer of cotton material, fingers splaying across it. He reminds himself in his head over and over just what a horrible thing it would be to fucking take your first time at a frat party, even as he has to adjust his cock, turning from you to face the wall for a moment.

“Everything okay, Toru?” You ask softly, hand on his back, he laughs, a fake and terrible attempt at being normal, turning right back around to you.

“Me!? Yes, yes. Do you need a drink, babydoll?” He asks.

The music kicks on as he speaks, and all you can see are his plump lips forming words, ringing from how damn loud they’re blaring the worst dance music known to man. “What!!”

“A drink!!”

“Huh?”

“A DRINK-”

The music pauses for just a minute, switching to something else but leaving multiple people to stare at Nerdy Gojo shouting.

You blink a bit at his shouting, he swears he’ll kill Suguru and Nanami for having the audacity to fucking laugh at him and his pain. Them smoking weed earlier and trying to give him every tip known to man on how to bury said tip right against that surely cute little cervix.

As if Satoru hadn’t studied extensively.

“Yes, please,” you smile all pretty, letting him guide you through, he just about loses it from the sheer amount of eyes locked onto you, gripping you just a little too tight, feeling the curve of those breedable hips underneath his fingertips.

Imagine having them bent over, his hands fit so perfect-

No, he can make it another night, a dumb frat party was not the time or place for something so precious as your first time. Even if you smell that good, and you’re dancing all over him, giggling, your ass brushing right against where his cock has tented his dark jeans.

Your drink in one hand, the other in his as he pulls you against him, for a nerdy boy, Gojo can absolutely move his body. You feel so goddamn good against him, with your waist in his grip now, his lips pressed against your ear – he can inhale that sweet scent you just naturally fucking have.

That’s when he realizes he’s about to cum if your ass rubs up on his cock one more damn time with those heels making you tall enough, he could bend you over and slide it right in. God he bets you’re so wet too.

Satoru has to pull back, making you blink just a bit in confusion, he downs the rest of his drink, smiling apologetically.

“Bathroom, sweetheart.”

“Oh, um… okay, want me to-”

Satoru runs the fuck off.

Maybe you’re doing too much, shit… you were absolutely grinding all up on Satoru because you were craving him so bad. You needed to give him more time! If the roles were reversed, you know he would, even if he may want to as badly as you do. Going to pour yourself a shot, you throw it back and let your eyes shut, sighing just a bit as it burns your throat.

You need to ease up and let Satoru take his time, even if you have to press your thighs together to resist the needy urge of rubbing your cunt on anything right now.

Maybe you are fucking Sanji.

*****

Satoru’s leaned back on the door, unzipping his pants and seeing his reddened cockhead, and just how fucking swollen it is. He’s jerking his cock desperately, whimpering out as the door gets knocked on, banged on in fact by fucking Sukuna of all people.

“Gotta take a piss man, stop jerking it.”

“I’m not!? I’m pissing right now – w-wait,” Satoru is jerking it of course, but how dare Sukuna call him out on it. Dickhead fratboy that he is, he’s chuckling outside of the door, but none of it is getting rid of Satoru’s throbbing erection.

He’s just way too needy, too sensitive, he can see his reflection in the mirror – those flushed pink cheeks. Sukuna thankfully fucks off, but Satoru can't even cum with just his hand, not when he knows your little fist would feel so much better, when your mouth and pussy would grip him.

No, Satoru is left tortured.

*****

You are alone for some time, concerned if he was somehow drunk or sick when the leader of the frat – the slutty ass, pink haired jock named Sukuna comes up to you, sipping his cup and flickering his red eyes up and down your face.

“Hmm, Gojo left you all alone?”

“And?” You scoff, rolling your eyes at him now, he smirks just a bit, leaning close. “He’s busy. Okay?”

“Mmm… yeah,” he peeks over his shoulder now, then looks right back down at you. “So.”

“So, what?”

He grins all big. “Wanna play beer pong?”

“Beer pong?”

“Mhm,” he tugs at a little lock of your hair. “Bet I stomp your ass at it. Look like such a good girl.”

“Hah you think I've never been to a party!?”

“Never seen you before aside from with your nerdy lover boy,” he pours you a drink now and inclines his head.

“I've partied, just… usually me and Toru are busy.”

He snorts at that.

So busy your boyfriend is jerking his cock in the bathroom.

“I see, so busy, huh?”

“Yes but…” you curse now, shaking your head. Satoru has been gone fifteen minutes and won't answer a text, a game of beer pong wouldn't hurt. “Fine then.”

It doesn’t take long until there is an entire gathering of people to watch you absolutely annihilate Ryomen Sukuna in beer pong, to the point he is fucking furious. You're landing the pong ball in every cup, decimating the entire frat at a certain point, giggling as you study them, down to the last shot, against Sukuna again.

“Beginners luck or some shit,” he’s fucking furious – you swear you see his vein ticking underneath his jaw.

Satoru is still not here.

You’re worried but you’re also enjoying the cheers, especially when you land that last one, giggling as the frat brothers who were talking all that shit about the nerdy girlfriend of Satoru moments before are now staring in disbelief. With one final, perfect arc, the ball splashes into the last cup. 

It really is beginner's luck.

But.

Also, fuck Sukuna.

"Damn, girl!" someone yells, and you take a little bow, rubbing it right in Sukuna’s face now, who is slamming down the rest of his beer.

Surely he drank enough to get annihilated – but somehow still standing just normal, big ass man has some insane tolerance because those eyes look completely aware.

"Guess I'm not such a good girl after all, huh?" you tease Sukuna, who's standing there looking down at you, setting the cup down and crushing it.

“Hmmm,” his red eyes dilate just a bit as he steps closer to you, suddenly making you feel just a bit nervous.

Satoru hates Sukuna.

It’s well known, since high school the two of them have been overcompetitive and absolutely insane against each other. He’d be fucking furious if he saw you anywhere near him at all. You peek and see him across the crowd then, getting a text from Shoko blinging on your phone.

He’s really mad.

He is.

You get another text now from Utahime, biting down on your lower lip.

Make him jealous and maybe you’ll get dicked down, Sanji.

“I’m not Sanji,” Sukuna raises a brow, lips twitching. “I’m not.”

“Sanji? Who the fuck is that?”

“One piece?”

“Nerd – hey, wait,” you’re turning and he grabs your wrist for just a moment. “Shit, I mean… you’re right, you’re not a good girl, huh?”

“I sure beat your ass,” you say, pausing when he reaches out, his fingers surprisingly gentle as they brush a stray piece of hair back from your face, rough knuckles brushing against your cheek for a second too long.

"You did, you're full of surprises, brat.”

“Brat? Whatever…”

You can feel Satoru’s eyes on you – you’d pull back, but part of you wonders if making him jealous would bring that freak out that spit cum in your mouth – maybe you are a brat. You sip your drink, remaining normal.

“I’m dating Satoru, you’re too close.”

“Would nerdy ass Satoru know what to do, how to handle your ass?” He taunts, your eyes narrow, his laugh echoing despite the music as your boyfriend starts shoving his way through. “Show you that digimon collection?”

“I’m very pleased, thank you.”

“You look like you need to get your attitude fucked right out of you,” your fingers itch to slap him now. “If he fucks up, you know where to find me.”

“No thank you, I- Toru!”

Satoru is between you and Sukuna, shoving him off and glaring right at him – perhaps the two tallest men at the party right face to face, Sukuna’s smirk making Satoru want to punch him.

“Why are you so close to my future wife?”

“Wife?” You blush and he glares at you.

“Yes, and baby momma – but you’re being a brat,” he whispers, Sukuna snorts at that.

“She is a brat.”

“You can’t call her that,” he shoves the big ass man and takes your hand now. “She has better shit to do than talk to you.”

“Aw, but we were having fun,” Satoru is dragging you away, you blink just a bit, almost scowling at Sukuna who blows you a kiss.

What a dick.

BUT.

Satoru is fuming, and he’s hot.

You’re so toxic!

“What’s wrong, Toru? I was just playing some beer pong,” you say all innocently, as he drags you past everyone, you’re struggling to keep up with his long strides. “Um… what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong!? Hah,” he’s laughing, psychotic and feral like you turned on a switch in his brain, when he finally starts getting some privacy. “Everything.”

“I don’t get it…”

“He was hitting on you,” Satoru yanks you away in the center of the party, you barely bite back your giggle at how excited you are to see him this way, looking ever so serious when he glares down at you.

Maybe you are evil, loving how mad he is, how jealous he is when he presses you against the hallway wall on the other side of the party, you can feel the music humming through the walls, but not as fast as your heart is racing looking up at your blue eyed boyfriend. Blue eyed angry boyfriend.

This isn't sweet Satoru at all, no – he's completely fucking unhinged, his chest rising and falling with his quickened breaths, cupping your face and jerking your chin to look up at him.

“You think he was?” You ask softly, making him raise a brow. “I thought he was just… being nice?”

You make him laugh without humor now, thumb brushing across your lip. “Are you being bratty, sweetheart? Teasing me, making me jealous?”

“What? No,” you straight up fucking lie to his face, batting your lashes all innocent and cute, but you can tell my that little smirk he doesn’t buy any of it for shit right now.

“No?”

“No, I was just talking, Toru. Isn't that fine?” You trail your hands up his chest, wrapping your fingers around to hook behind his neck, tugging him down to face you. “It’s fine for me to make friends, isn’t it?”

“Not when he's looking at these pretty tits,” he cups one, making you suck in a breath – your needy boyfriend is never this bold. “They're not his to look at.”

“Oh?” You lean forward now, tip toeing as he leans low, thumb brushing over a nipple, making it perk up for his touch. “Are they yours? Yours to look at?”

He’s losing it, his pulse hammering behind his ears, in his wrists, everywhere was hammering, his mouth practically salivating as he cups that tit right where anyone can see, big hand squishing it. You gasp out at the sensation, your lashes fluttering closed, little whines mingling against his lips.

“Yes, mine, every inch of you is mine,” Satoru shakes his head now with a soft laugh. “He thought he could dance with you. Kiss your lips? Lips that are mine.”

“All yours,” you open your eyes and giggle again, earning his scowl. “Sorry you're just so cute like this.”

Satoru blinks.

“Oh, I’m cute?”

You go to press a kiss when he snatches you up in one swoop, you gasp and wrap your arms around his neck now. Thighs trembling as he carries you to some room he finds, stumbling you in and shoving you right against the door.

“You think I'm cute,” he presses his cock against your slick heat, slutty little panties practically ruined for him, grinding his cock until you're gasping out. “Well I think that you're a brat.”

You gasp. “Me?”

Two people calling you that.

Well… maybe you are.

“You are bratty, with those pretty fucking lips,” he's kissing you filthy, tongues dancing, saliva dripping between you both, easing you down so that you slide against his body achingly slow. “Maybe I should shut your bratty mouth up.”

Oh fuck.

“Yes please?” He glares at your big fucking grin. 

“On your knees then, sweetheart,” you so eagerly obey, he laughs softly, his heart hammering in his chest, a mix of being utterly furious, nervous about his first time, and dumbstruck by the sight of your heart eyes. “Look at you, bein’ such a good girl – but are you really that desperate to suck me?”

“Please yes,” you have no shame – all you want is Satoru’s cock deep and buried in the back of your throat. “If you want though! C-consent.”

“As if I haven’t wanted this for years,” he shakes his head and tilts your chin up, sighing. “I wanted to do it all perfect, to lick and kiss every inch, worship your body until you were writhing, so fucking needy for it.”

Satoru unclicks his belt, the metallic click hitting your ears. “Mnh… years?”

"Years," he repeats softly, unbuttoning his jeans entirely too slow for you, you go to move your hands and he halts them with a little smack, you bite down on your lip, aching. “Hands on your thighs, you’ll listen to me for once, since you’ve been driving me so fucking crazy.”

“Me, making you crazy, really,” you do as he says though – eagerly – palms on your thighs, he laughs a bit, the sound of his zipper lowering echoing in the room even with the reverberating walls.

“You know every time you drag that messy cunt on me it ruins me, right?” He draws out that word, sighing now. "Every time you wore those little skirts and bent over, every time you'd bite your lip while concentrating…”

Satoru drags a thumb down your lip now, achingly slow against the plumpness that moves underneath it, your teeth nip on his thumb teasingly, and then you let him push your mouth open.

“Open real wide, sweetheart,” you do just that, and he can’t help but whimper as he presses down on your tongue, as if he’s studying the recesses of your open, eager mouth. “Wider, can’t you? For me?”

You listen eagerly, opening wide and fucking obscene, your tongue out for any bit of him he wants to give you, core just aching.

“Fuck, I've imagined this exact moment."

Satoru won’t tell you just how long he has, either, he swallows – just a bit nervous now.

“Suck,” you suck his digits, slurping them and moaning around them, imagining his cock instead, loving how dominant he’s being. “Stop.”

You obey, making him raise a brow.

“You like me tellin’ you what to do? Is that why you got me so fucking mad, so jealous, to have you listen?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, as he shoves his jeans down, and the hard, thick length of his bugle strains against the thin fabric of his boxers. “Pokemon? You traitor!”

“I can’t wait to shut your mouth up tonight,” you giggle at that, Satoru sighs and frowns at them, brushing your hair back a bit. “They were a gift, okay?”

“I’ll buy you digimon ones.”

“God, you’re so perfect,” you’re still giggling, when he gently smacks your face – the lightest little touch that has you almost moaning. “Open up again, yeah? Be a good girl, baby.”

“Mmm, yes,” you nod your head, doing just as he says – the side of freaky Satoru you only saw hints of last week when he’d lavished your panties with his long tongue.

“You got me jealous on purpose, yeah? Wore that slutty outfit to fucking ruin me, wanted cock in your throat that bad? Got me fucking leaking so much… fuck…”

Your answer is to keep that mouth open, leaning forward as you lap your tongue along the damp spot where his pre cum has already soaked through, right over a traitorous yellow pikachu. You’ll make more fun of that later, right now he’s jerking his hips, hissing at the drag of your cute lil tongue on him.

“Fuck…” You’re teasing him just like he did you – licking and sucking his tip over the damp cotton of his boxers. “Act so sweet and you’re evil, shouldn’t feel that good through that… mmm…”

Satoru’s letting you suck around his fat cockhead, slurping every bit of his white cum from it, tongue lolling right along that slit over and over.

“Torturing me back?”

“Yep,” you lick your lips, making him sigh, shaking his head now.

“Go on then, take what’s all yours…" his voice is low, hoarse damn near as he for the very first time pulls his cock out, letting it spring free, slapping against his lower abdomen with a loud, wet smack. “Can you fit all of it?”

You knew he’d be big.

You didn’t know he’d be that big, with his jeans undone all slutty, his pokemon boxers shoved down – his cock is perfect, just the right amount of thick and entirely too fucking long, with a prominent pale blue vein running along the underside. You’re literally drooling as he strokes it right in front of you, the head flushed a deep, pretty pink as it leaks white.

You’re soaked, fucking ruined.

“I can.”

You cannot.

Maybe?

You will try!

“Go on then, sweetheart, lemme see how good you can take all of me,” he chuckles as you lean forward without hesitation, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the tip. “Teasin’ me more?”

You lap your tongue up, keeping your hands right where he asked you too, sliding underneath so you hit that frenum. His sharp inhale is met with his huge hand tugging in your hair so hard it hurts, pulling at the hairs on the nape of your neck.

“Fuck… greedy lil mouth,” he’s damn near slurring his words when you swirl your little tongue around the head, lapping up the salty taste of his cock underneath, brushing along that vein. He whimpers out when you wrap your lips around it and suck. “Oh my… f-fuck…”

Satoru loses it the first time you really suck his cock, his hand coming to rest on the back of your head, pushing you down further as his other hand rests on the doorway, beginning to move so that he’s choking you. You’re whining out, aching to touch your cunt so bad you slide your fingers down.

“So desperate,” he tuts his tongue, fucking your throat now, his cock slamming the back of it as tears spill. “B-baby, is this s’okay?”

You pull back as he does, with a wet, filthy pop, grinning. “I want it, all the way deep in my throat, Toru, I can take it.”

“You can take all of it in that tiny lil’ throat? When she’s this tight?” He whispers, your nod makes him glare now. “Have you done this?”

You blink a bit. “Yes?”

“Then I’ll fuck your throat so hard you’ll forget anything but me,” he takes you over now, slamming deep inside, you’re whimpering as one of his feet spread your thighs, and you’re soaking his black boot. “That’s it, rutting on my boot and taking cock like a little slut, hmm?”

“Mnhgh…” you’re done for, this is exactly what you needed, him railing your throat until you can’t think, until you’re gagging and tears are spilling.

“Look at me,” he orders softly, you do just that as he presses deep, sniffling as you try to take all of him, he hisses as he feels his tip stretching that tight throat, his Adam's apple bobbing. “You know I fucking love you? And respect you?”

You giggle around him and he glares.

“You have to know if I’m gonna say all this,” you pull back again, fingers all coated in your slick, gliding it along his sticky tip.

“I know you love me, Toru. I love you…” He sighs, touching your cheek. “I love you talking to me this way, you could be meaner.”

“Oh? Fuck my frustration on your throat?”

“Please?”

“You’re ruining me,” he mumbles, slamming right back inside, now that he knows you’re okay, he can lose control, see how much you can take, as you grind on that shoe, nails now pressing in the muscles of his thighs, jeans slipping down. “Want our first time to really be right against this door? Shove your slutty skirt up and ruin your cunt for fuckin’ anyone?”

God, Satoru’s sexy like this, fogged glasses and all.

Your answer is to take him all the way, your nose brushing against the white hair, the tufts of it tickling your nose, he’s stuttering now, unable to stop himself from fucking faster, harder, the wet sounds mixing with his whines. He doesn’t hold them back, either, every time he does he feels a fresh gush of wetness even over that leather, he can see it shimmering as he pulls back and slaps his cock on your mouth.

“Slutty girl, this all f’me, huh? Not that fucking loser downstairs?”

“All you.”

“Hold that tongue out,” you do just that, and Satoru slaps his tip on your tongue over and over, as you keep grinding on him. “Can’t believe you’re this much of a pretty little whore, god I thought you were a good girl?”

“Toru… please…”

“Please what?” You just keep rubbing. “Desperate, fuck… stand up.”

You can hardly do that when he helps you by tugging you up, spitting directly in your mouth, you swallow it greedily, earning his pathetic moan as he turns you, shoving you against that door. “Mnh!”

“Stop me before I fill all your fucking holes with cum,” he’s kissing down your neck, his glasses cool against your neck, whines escaping his lips as he shoves that slutty lil dress up the gentle curve of your hip. “All of them, I’ll have your cunt drippin’, your throat full, fuck that ass while I’m at it.”

“Mngh, please, please,” it’s all you can do but to arch.

“That needy?” He’s tugging your panties to the side, dragging his tip up and down over and over, moans escaping his lips when he bends down, turning your face to him. “First time in a frat house against a door? You’re so wet do I even need to finger you right now?”

“Already did,” you answered, he laughs, shaking his head and kissing you, rubbing even more, teasing your slit with the fat head of his cock until you’re weak, your thighs shaking. “Please, please….”

“Please what, fuck your cunt for the first time? That’s what you’ve been wanting, me to lose it, huh?”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, teasing even more, mouth messy and mean as he bumps your clit, until you squirt right down his length, dripping all down the carpet.

Sukuna’s carpet – it’s his room you faintly notice, as you see the little pictures on the walls.

You wonder if Satoru meant that.

“Squirting already, haven’t even fucked you yet,” he pulls back and bends down, slamming his cock so deep you scream out, head falling back as he tugs your hair, making your ass arch out as he fills you. “Oh my g-god… baby…”

“Toru,” he lets you adjust to his thickness, the very first time your cunt has ever been filled – and this wasn’t how he wanted to do it.

He wanted to stretch you out – one finger, two, then three – but you’re so soaked you suck him right in. Such a tight, perfect fit he can hardly take it, bending down to press sweet kisses on your bare shoulders, easing back and shoving in again, taking your hand and placing it on your tummy, pressing so you feel it all.

“Feel me here?” He asks softly, desperately – worried for a moment with how tight you are that he’s hurt you, but your answer is to look back at him with those slutty, parted lips and dilated eyes, nodding. “Who’s inside you?”

“You, Toru.” you answer, cunt spasming as she’s already close, his body overtaking you, wrapping and tugging, shoving even deeper.

“Who’s first?”

“You.”

“Who’s gonna make this cunt stretch out?”

“Y-you and… ah!”

“Mine, mine… fuck you’re all mine,” Satoru gave you that minute to adjust, a last mercy before your nerdy boyfriend fucking loses his mind. “Mine, this pretty body, this perfect pussy… you… mine…”

“Yours,” you whisper it over and over as Satoru fucks your messy cunt, even though it’s hard to take, you’re so full it feels perfect, letting his hand wrap your throat, fingers pressing on either side of your windpipe. “Ah!”

“Hah – such a perfect fit, made f’me,” he’s fucking you so deep you feel him everywhere, cock gliding in and out of your sticky, gummy walls, fucking you so goddamn messy it's dripping down between your thighs. “B-babyyy…”

You arch for more when he pulls out of your cunt with a filthy squelch and you whine from the loss. “Back in, please…”

He lifts and carries you to the bed, thighs shoved wide, feral now as he shoves back inside and sees himself moving inside you. Every slick glide smoothing your puffy cervix, until she is bruised and aching, that dress shoved higher, panties tugged firmly to the side. He uses both to move in you, laughing as you gasp out, as your thighs tremble.

“Aw, is it too much, sweetheart? Too deep?”

Feral Satoru is here, mixed with sweet Toru, but his cock is anything but sweet – the way it stretches you out, fucking ruins you, pummels your cunt so deep you’re about to cum all over his length, already sensitive.

“Mhm!”

“Full of me?”

“Nghhhh…”

You don't know how the fuck else to answer, it all is entirely too much, the way he can see his cock print, his insane laugh, those blue eyes glittering with the frames fallen off. So blue it hurts to look at, eyes almost threatening to close.

“Nuh-uh, eyes on me, that's it,” Satoru keeps pumping into your cunt, leaning up to shove your thighs against your tits, smushing them as he fucks you dumb.

He knows it too.

“Can't think?”

“mmm, nnnhhh,” your answer is pathetic and just a babble really, as your nerdy, once virgin boyfriend pummels your messy, needy cunt until she's stuffed so full it hurts. Your nails pressing into biceps, digging in as he stretches your puffy lips on it.

“Can’t even fucking talk – already?” Your eyes roll back in your skull as his cock ruins your pussy, so deep you do feel him all over.

“Gonna pump you so full, hah will you finish college without me breeding your cunt?” Satoru Gojo is batshit insane, as he leans over you, bending you so that you're folded in half under his heavy weight. “What would you do then, hmm? If I breed your slutty cunt? Make you mine.”

“Want it, mmm,” you’re utterly fucking shameless about it, feeling his bruising grip, his cock getting creamy at the base as his heavy balls slap.

“Jerked it in the bathroom, had me so hard,” you bite down on your lip, gasps escaping your throat, eyes locked. “You love that, huh? Driving me insane, slutty dress, pretty body… god…”

He presses your thighs down enough to tug your tits out, gripping them and exhaling, thumbs brushing your nipples until they’re peaks.

"Look at you," he pants, "taking my cock so well, pretty girl. You’re just such a good little slut for me, aren't you?"

You can only moan in response, your body trembling as he hits that spot inside you that makes your vision go white, your answer is to grip his hips with your thighs, letting him cup your face, pumping you so full that you can feel it all over. Warm and hot when he whines out so pathetically in your ringing ears, slutty little moans falling from your lips.

“Takin’ all of it, god…” He kisses you even as you shatter, your cunt spasming all around his veiny length, milking him for every drop. “So fucking greedy. So needy.”

He leans down and captures your lips, spurts of cum still pouring, you can feel him twitching, nails pressing into the strong muscles of his back. “Toru… l-love… toru y-you…”

“Cock drunk, sweetheart?” He teases, like the menace he really is – but he also lovingly caresses your cheek. “You took me like you were made for me.”

“I did?” You’re so damn drunk off him you’re slurring your words, pussy achingly empty, feeling his cum slipping out.

“You did a very good job. Such a good girl.”

“Yay!”

Satoru snorts at you, shaking his head and peppering kisses, leaned up on an arm, his shirt half open, revealing the hard planes of his chest. “You’re s’cute… I wanted to take it easy your first time.”

“I loved it,” you admit, yawning now, peeking around the room. “Mmm, can we go home though?”

“Of course we will,” he kisses down your body though, breath ghosting your thighs, spreading them to watch the filthy mess of his cum pour out, groaning. “You’re wasting it all, baby.”

“Hmm? Ah!” Satoru scoops some of that mess up against his fingertips, shoving it right back inside your quivering hole. You’re gripping him tight, thighs clamping down on his hand, as he smirks. “Toru you’re… crazy…”

“Mmm, you really have no idea what I have wanted to do,” he clicks his tongue, pushing that cum deep again, watching your every expression. “Gonna keep you so full of cum it’ll drip everywhere.”

Satoru does not just fuck you once, no – he makes sure to bend you over in the backseat of his car, fucking cum back inside. Once you're at his house he is pumping ropes of cum on your tits, laughing at how messy you get coated in white, before spreading it all over your body.

Satoru fingers and fucks all that cum inside until you're a trembling mess in his arms, passing out and snoring.

“So funny you started all this but then couldn't keep up, hmm?” He teases softly, cleaning you up, cock sore from how you gripped him, how much he came. But even the sight of milky drops escaping your hole had him damn near twitching back to life, groaning against your skin.

*****

“Good morning,” your nerdy boyfriend is littered in pretty kiss marks, indentions of your teeth all down his neck, a loopy smile on his face as he stands there shirtless, glasses firmly back on.

“Oh! Good morning…” you thought you'd be the one to ruin Satoru Gojo, ride his cock till he whimpered and cried from overstimulation.

You had no clue he'd fuck you so good you couldn't sit up right without his help, cupping your face and leaning down to kiss your lips, tilting your chin up and smirking. You're a mess.

A pretty mess.

Hair fucked up, covered in fingerprints and hickies, taking the coffee he brings and sipping it, sighing as it hits your tongue. “Mmm… good morning.”

“Don't you look pretty in my bed?” He muses, smirking on his features. “I wonder what Sukuna thought of his bed covered in your squirt.”

A blush heats up your cheeks. “I didn't squirt that much!?!?!”

“You really did,” you shove him playfully, giggling then. “My cum too though.”

“You did it on purpose, his room!”

“Me? Never.”

Satoru absolutely did.

That's what Sukuna gets for hitting on his girlfriend, dried up cum all on his blankets – as if he could handle you ❤️

heheh i hope ya'll liked horny reader for a change!!!

Patreon -- comms

[humanjarvis]

like a glove

“you’re so— you’re so tight. i’m not going to fit, pipsqueak. it’s okay. we can try again another—”

in one ear, out the other. paying caleb's pleading voice no mind, you sink down on him inch by inch, relishing the stretch but quickly growing impatient. beneath you, he throws his head back into the pillows, overwhelmed by the sheer warmth of you.

“please. please. you’re squeezin’ the life outta me.” as if to prove his point, he starts to slur his words. “i dunno if i can take it.”

“you can.” you dig your nails into his hip bones. “you will. how much time did we waste, dancing around our instincts? we’ve both wanted this for so long—it’s only right that we take everything the other has to give.” 

“then…can we take a break, at least? what if you hurt yourself? it can’t— it can’t be easy.” his mouth falls open, a whimper escaping as you swivel your hips trying to work your way to his base. “you’re so small. too damn small.”

“maybe you're too big. i like it, though. and once i fit you all the way in, i’ll love it.” 

the rapid swell of his length isn’t making this any easier. every time you make progress trying to take him, he only grows even larger inside you.

“you’re the one who begged for this earlier. i want it, too. but you have to help me—i can’t do it on my own, caleb. you've always helped me, haven't you? always been there to look out for me. can’t you do it again?” 

swallowing thickly, he admires you through half-lidded eyes. when you push your lips into a pout, he nods slowly. giving in like he always does.

nerves alight, he wills his hips to drive three feeble thrusts into your heat. it’s a rare show of weakness from him, but even his lacking efforts make you slide farther down. 

of course, your mixed arousal dribbling down his length does most of the heavy lifting.

“more,” you urge. “more. we’re almost there.” 

“i can’t.” he’s almost delirious now. “so, so tight. feel like i can’t breathe.” 

“do it. you don’t want to disappoint me, do you? if you do, you might not get the chance to make it up to me.”

“no…no.” ardent as it is, his refusal is soft. he’s crashing quickly, devoting his waning energy to blinking the tears out of his eyes rather than projecting his voice. “never.” tensing for a moment, he gathers all his strength and rolls his hips, slow and deep, into your center. you accept him greedily, hissing through the dull sting until the rest of your weight falls on his throbbing length. once you’re fully seated, the scandalous slap of skin on skin echoes through the room. his desperate moans and a string of curses follow. 

finally, finally, you feel so incredibly whole. 

you moan, lewd and lascivious, and lean down to kiss the center of his chest. 

“was i good?” he asks, rapid pants fanning the crown of your head. “you feel so good. is this good?”

when you raise your head, he sits up on his elbows, eager to kiss your lips in grateful reciprocity.

it doesn’t take much to dodge him. grinning, you splay your hand across his now flushed chest and push him back down, earning a whiny, defeated groan. sinking impossibly deeper, you give his nose a conciliatory peck. 

“shhh. just stay like this. you don’t have to do anything,” you murmur into his skin. “that break you wanted earlier? we can take it now. i want to get used to this feeling. don’t you?”

[toastarchives]

tracksuit menace — narumi gen, kn8

established fwb, female reader, mild possessiveness, mild exhibitionism, piv sex, unprotected sex, oral f!receiving, creampies, handjob, 6.6k words

rye shared this fanart, ji made me feel bad about gen constantly getting dethroned in my writing by dudes with bowl cuts, and idk. i lost my goddamn mind and this happened

"Fuck me," you mumble, and Narumi Gen snorts. 

"Keep it in your pants," he says smugly, ruffling his bangs back in that way he knows you like. "You've got me all day, as soon as we're done with this." 

"I hate you," you say simply, and Gen laughs. Your lips twitch, but you bite it back, opting to blink up at him instead, leaning into his space. "Are you sure you wanna lead this demonstration with a boner, Narumi taichou?" 

Gen huffs, torn between annoyance and wanting to preen. He loves hearing his title from your lips, but it's only a reminder that you're in public, and that he really shouldn't be thinking of all the other times he's corrected you, the way your voice cracks around his name when you're gushing all over his cock. 

You take another step closer into his bubble, ignoring propriety, and Gen finds his breath caught in his throat. The hallway is empty, for now, the platoon waiting just beyond the doors. There's nobody to see the way your chest presses against his arm, and you're — so incredibly soft — 

"Will you let me wear your jacket, later? With nothing underneath?" you ask quietly, your tone light and casual. "It'll look good on me, don't you think?" 

"Fuck me." 

You smirk, and Gen shouldn't be turned on by such a simple image, but he can't help it — you're a menace. 

He takes a shaky breath, rubbing a hand over his face as he tries to will his boner away. It's hard — pun intended — because all he can think about is the way your chest moves with his thrusts, the way you clench around him, so hot and wet and soft, the way you gasp when he hits that spot inside just right — only now he sees all of this and you're wearing the track jacket that's currently on his own body. 

And something about that — his jacket on your body — does something diabolical to his brain, appeals to his baser instincts. He can't claim you in any way that matters, because you're just friends. He can leave as many hickeys and bruises and memories as he wants, but nothing he does will change the fact that he'll never be your emergency contact. 

Not that he wants to be, anyway. After all, he's the one who set it up like this. 

Right. It's better this way. He's got a Division to lead. 

The only reason he's wearing a track jacket in the first place, and not his Defense Force uniform, is because this is supposed to be a short demonstration. It's his day off, and the two of you are heading into town to peruse the new stock of Gundom figures. There's also a seasonal parfait you've been wanting to try, and a special edition volume of some sword manga you've been reading lately that you want to pick up. 

It's all stuff you've done a million times together before, but now Gen finds himself wondering if he can get you naked in some empty training room first. 

Or maybe just a little bit undressed — cameras are everywhere on base, after all, and he doesn't really want anyone else seeing the way you arch so beautifully when he grinds the tip of his cock inside you. You're conveniently wearing a sundress today, anticipating the cloudless, breezy spring day, so it'll be easy for Gen to tug your panties aside and sink into you and — 

Right. This is not helping his boner. 

You pause at the door leading to the training grounds, grinning as your gaze slides down to rest on his crotch area. Gen's wearing track pants, and the comfy fabric is doing nothing to hide his bulge. 

"Fuck off," he scowls, and you laugh out loud. 

The demonstration goes well, as long as he ignores the way you keep glancing over from the sidelines and looking away like he's too hot to handle. Gen finds himself twirling his gun bayonet a bit more than strictly necessary, propping it along his shoulders and letting his jacket and loose t-shirt underneath ride up to expose the sliver of skin above his waistband. 

It's a bit unorthodox to do a demonstration in civilian clothes, but Gen wonders if he can get away with it more often, if it'll get you this worked up to see him handling his weapon in a track jacket. Gen knows he's hot, easily the Defense Force's most eligible bachelor, but for some reason you're really going through it, today. 

In fact, you only last three hallways before dragging him into an empty room after the demonstration is done. 

"What's the big deal, anyway?" Gen huffs, the back of his head hitting the door behind him with a quiet thunk as he tilts to give you access to his neck. 

You hum, lips soft along his skin, teeth nipping little bruises as your free hand sneaks beneath his waistband. Gen groans, loud in the empty office, bright morning light from the windows hot on his skin as you wrap your fingers around his cock and squeeze. 

"Aren't you always saying you're a big deal?" you ask, shoving his pants and briefs down enough to free his cock. Gen curses as you smear his pre around the tip, as you stroke him with the exact pressure and rhythm to make him blow his load in two seconds flat. 

Gen doesn't wanna cum yet, though — "I am," he says, hand shooting out to grab your wrist. His other hand gives your chest another squeeze, another harsh rub at the peaked bud beneath his palm, the front of your sundress shoved low enough for your tits to spill out. 

You jolt into his palm, biting at your lip as a whine slips out. The sound makes Gen go lightheaded, flickering in his vision as he grabs your chin to tilt your face up, to kiss you hard. 

"N-Narumi taichou," you gasp, breathless. Eyes widening as he spins you both around, as he props you up against the door, fingers denting the plush of your thighs as he holds you up and grinds his length against the heat of your core. 

"C'mon," he mutters, nosing at your throat. "You can take me now, can't you? Your panties are fucking soaked." 

You make a funny sound but reach down to tug your panties aside, nudging at his cock so that he's lined up with your entrance. "Get inside me, please, Narumi taichou —" 

The little gasp you let out when he starts to sink in does something to him, whites out everything in his brain until all he can think about is how hot and wet and perfect you feel. Gen kisses you, tries to swallow down your moans as he bullies his way inside, a little too big to fit without prep, except you're wet enough and so fucking good for him and — 

Gen is gonna cum. He — 

"Shh," he murmurs, kissing the pout off your lips as he bottoms out. "We've gotta be quiet." 

"Fuck off," you shoot back, and Gen laughs. 

"We're still gonna go out, right?" he asks, wincing as you dig your nails into his shoulders. "We'll walk around looking at Gundom figures, and my cum will be leaking down your thighs..." 

"Narumi taichou, will you please move," you whine, clenching around him pathetically. Gen can feel your pussy fluttering around him, squeezing and working at his cock as he tries not to blow so soon. 

"Fuck, you're so good for me," Gen grunts, finally lifting you only to slam you back down on his cock. You grab at his shoulders, his hair, tugging on the strands as he begins to fuck you properly, the hard thrusts heavy in his gut as you swallow him greedily with each move. 

"Oh, please, please, ngh, Gen —" 

Gen almost laughs when you fall apart around him, your muscles tensing and coiling and unwinding as he fucks you through it, as he kisses and swallows the pretty sounds tumbling from your lips. His name — over and over again, like a prayer, the only thing on your mind as you come undone. 

It's enough — not that he ever needs much, with you — to kick him over the edge, too, and he moans your name, loud and shameless into your cheek as he cums and throbs and hot streaks of white flood your insides. 

Fuck. 

"Fuck," you say, several moments later, blinking up at him with stars in your eyes. "Gen." 

"Yeah," he says, and tilts his head to kiss you. 

Long, deep kisses, breathless and easy, your lips the most familiar feeling against his own. You keep your ankles locked around his back, trapping him inside you, but he doesn't mind, merely kissing his way down, pausing at your fluttering pulse, nipping at the soft skin above your heart. 

"My panties are ruined," you confess quietly, giggling when Gen snorts with his lips resting on your bare shoulder. 

"You still wanna wear my track jacket?" 

"Yes," you say immediately, and Gen laughs. Your lips tilt upwards, something unbearably warm and fond in your expression that has him leaning down to kiss it away. 

"I'll get changed, and we can head out?" you suggest. Gen hums, kisses you again, basking in the warmth and scent and familiarity of you. "Taichou," you giggle, tugging at his hair. "Come on." 

Gen sets you down and kneels between your shaky legs as he crouches, carefully removing your damp panties and chuckling when you grab his shoulders for balance. Once your panties are free from your legs, he uses the messy cotton to wipe himself clean, smirking when you squirm on your feet. 

"Fuck off," you mutter, but you crack a smile when Gen snorts and tucks your ruined panties into his pocket. "Meet me at the front entrance?" 

"Huh? I was just gonna come with you," he says, putting the rest of his clothes back into place. You do the same, keeping your legs pressed together, and Gen silently mourns the loss of your bare tits as you slide the straps of your sundress back up over your shoulders. 

"If you come with me, we're never going to leave the base," you roll your eyes, "and we haven't had a matching day off in ages. I'll see you in a few minutes!" 

Gen frowns, but you lean up to give him a kiss, and he watches you slip out the door with a funny feeling in his chest. He makes a stop at his own room before heading out, cleaning himself up a bit more and setting your panties aside for jacking off with them later. 

If he's lucky, you'll stay the night, but he can always use them another time. Maybe tomorrow morning, with his fist wrapped in the fabric and his cock as he eats you out until you cry. 

You show up at the front entrance wearing a t-shirt, shorts, and thin socks that go all the way up to your thighs. Gen stares as you skip to a stop in front of him, his hand reaching automatically towards that enticing, bare strip of skin between your socks and shorts. 

"Hands off," you say playfully, grabbing his wrist to tug at the sleeve of his jacket. "I've changed my mind, I'll steal your jacket later. You can wear it for now, taichou." 

Gen rolls his eyes. "Thanks for the honor," he says, and it comes out more fond than sarcastic. "You planned that, earlier? You were never gonna walk around out here in that skimpy ass dress." 

"Of course I wasn't," you say, and your fingers slip into his, easy and familiar. You squeeze his hand as the two of you begin to walk towards the train station. "I'm a proper, respectable platoon leader. Honestly, I was just going to show up at your room wearing it, but you were running so late for the demonstration, and now I've got girls left and right asking where I bought it." 

"What for?" 

You glance sidelong at him. "I dunno, so they can try seducing the great Captain of the First Division on their next day off?" 

Gen makes a face, rolling out his shoulders uncomfortably. "Not happening." 

"Oh? It's not like we're a secret, but you are hot and single, and I know there are gold diggers in the Force." You say it so easily. "We've got a lot of really good people who fight kaiju to protect the country, but not everyone has motives like that." 

"You think I'm hot?" 

"Shut the fuck up," you snort. Gen cracks a grin, tucking it into the high collar of his track jacket. "Anyway, if anyone manages to interest Narumi Junior, just let me know." 

"You won't let me hit it raw if there's anyone else," Gen points out. 

"Yeah, that's why you have to let me know," you nod, "so we can have our final fuck and you can move on." 

Something about this entire conversation is rubbing him the wrong way, but it doesn't make any sense. Gen's the one who insisted that the Defense Force comes first — it's the only thing he's good at, after all — so why should he care if you're acting like what you have together doesn't matter? 

It doesn't. It shouldn't. 

"Not happening," he says again, gruff. "C'mon, we're gonna miss our train." 

It's not crowded, this time of day, but the two of you opt to stand near the doors, too used to being battle ready at all times to relax on the seats. Gen ends up with his fingers draped carelessly in the hanging holding strap while you stand in front of him, holding onto the front of his jacket lightly as the train skims along into the city. 

"Did you see the new promotional posters for the game you're always playing?" you ask, gaze seemingly caught by an advertisement before you flick back to his eyes. A small smile tugs at your lips. "It looks kind of cool." 

"You're still banned." 

You laugh, ducking your head into his chest for a quick moment, so you don't disturb the other riders. Gen wonders if train cars always run this warm. "Damn, I thought you'd forget about that by now." 

"Hah? You thought I'd forget?" Gen demands incredulously, pitching his voice lower when you snort. "You were so bad, my ranking fell by three tiers! It took me an entire weekend to climb back up again!" 

You're laughing quietly now, body shaking, and Gen finds himself putting a hand at your waist to keep you steady as the train rolls to a stop. Passengers embark and disembark around you, but he keeps his body between you and the stream of people, ignoring the funny glances about the public display of affection in order to keep you safe. 

"Thanks," you say, beaming up at him. 

Gen feels his ears get hot. "Whatever." 

The figure shop you first discovered together is crowded with customers all trying to get a look at what's new, so Gen holds your hand, to make sure you don't get separated. You stick close, both of you stopping at the same displays and exchanging grins when you realize, pausing to admire this or that new design and chatting easily about potential modifications. 

Gen ends up buying a new kit, and you walk out with a set of paints to use on an old model. He adds your bag to his own and then slings it over his shoulder, holding out his free hand and tilting his head when you take it. "Let's go." 

The cafe is next, a few streets down, and you walk together companionably, talking about the new displays in the windows and recent missions and how hungry you are, since Gen made you exercise earlier. 

Gen snorts. "I was doing all the work." 

"Your track jacket was doing the real work," you say seriously, grinning when he scowls. "I don't think you can be allowed to wear it anymore. It's too dangerous." 

"You're such a weirdo," he says, but there's no bite. "C'mon, let's eat." 

You sit across from each other at the little table and Gen blinks as your shirt shifts, exposing the thin pink band of your bra strap. It tugs at his memory, but it isn't until you've ordered the seasonal parfait to share, plus some drinks, that he remembers — 

Fine, delicate lace, the pattern mesmerizing and interspersed with tiny sparkling gems, barely exposing the soft skin beneath. Pink ribbons laced around your torso, the hard buds of your nipples straining against the fabric, the garter belt tight around your waist with ribbons carefully attached to panties that were suggestions, at best. The cute little bow at the dip of your back, just above your insanely cute ass. The matching bow, right above your bush. 

"Narumi?" 

Gen blinks, suddenly refocusing and flushing at how hard he had been staring at the neckline of your shirt. Are you seriously wearing that right now?

You'll definitely be pissed if he drags you into the bathroom without letting you try the parfait, but holy fucking shit. 

"You finally noticed, huh?" you ask, and Gen feels a little lightheaded as you grin. All of your regular bras are serviceable, practical — the pink one's the only fancy piece you've got, in a color that matches his eyes. "It's parfait time!" 

"Fuck you," he says. You laugh, and Gen shakes his head slightly, but he can't help grinning a little, too. "Can I just get your manga online for you?" 

The waiter sets your parfait down between you, and you ignore Gen for a moment as you snap a photo or two of the seasonal dessert. "It's just one more stop," you say reasonably, handing him a long silver spoon. "I'm sure the great Captain of the First Division has enough self control for that." 

"You're lucky I do," Gen grumbles, scooping a bit of the parfait and shoving it into his mouth. "Or we'd be in the bathroom right now." 

You shiver, eyes locking with his own for a brief moment before your gaze goes back to the dessert. You work carefully to get the perfect scoop, balancing ice cream, fruit, and whipped cream on your tiny spoon. "It'll be so much better on your bed, Narumi taichou." 

His futon, set up among the messy chaos of his office, has definitely featured in many of your escapades — but so has your office, and several training rooms, and even a supply closet, one time, when he'd been hiding from Hasegawa. His Vice Captain lets him get away with a lot, but Gen's still the Captain, and kaiju wait for no one — so the two of you improvised. 

In the beginning of your relationship, during the awkward stages of navigating seeing each other naked for the first time and trying to act normal the next day in public — there were a lot of quickies. It was easiest, really, to just get down and dirty, to give in to the heady sexual tension once it finally had an avenue to follow. 

Now, though — now everything's stabilized out, and you actually stay the entire night in his futon with him, and you still hang out with him the way you used to, just like today. 

The biggest difference between your friendship before and now is just that you've got the audacity to wear the sexiest set of underwear he's ever seen beneath your normal clothes while you sit across from him eating whipped cream like nothing's changed. 

Your tongue pokes out to chase some of the cream by your lips, and Gen sighs. He subtly tries to adjust his pants, but you notice and smirk. 

"All good, there, taichou?" 

"Shut up." 

Gen watches you eat, taking a few bites here and there, wondering how it's possible that just that morning he'd been balls deep inside you, filling you to the brim. And he'll have you again, later, laid out on his futon like a dream come true, wearing nothing but — 

"Why'd you put that on, anyway? I thought you wanted my jacket." 

You shift a little in your seat, clearly debating on how to answer, but Gen just waits. He takes a sip of his drink, feels the fuzzy bubbles wash down his throat, lets the chatter of the other cafe patrons slip around your little bubble as he watches you take another bite. 

"Well," you say slowly, "I told the girls who asked about my dress where I got it." 

Gen raises an eyebrow. 

"And I was thinking, it's kind of surprising how many girls asked," you say. 

Gen's eyebrows furrow. "Hah?" 

"I mean, I know you're hot and high ranking, but I was just... surprised that so many girls thought they had a chance," you shrug. "I guess I thought they wouldn't be so open about it? But we're friends, so I guess it makes sense." 

"What the fuck are you talking about?" 

"They think we sleep together because we're friends," you try to explain, halting and frowning, "Like... I was just convenient. And if you realized that you could snag one of them, you'd take the chance." 

Gen snorts. "No chance. I chose you because you're you." 

You blink. "Well, I put this on because I figured I should try my best to be worth it for you." 

"That's stupid," he says firmly. "You don't need to prove anything to me." 

"But you only care about results, Gen," and this makes him frown, the way your voice goes soft, "so I need to be the best." 

"I already chose you," Gen points out. "It's not like I wanna hang out with anyone else." 

"Hang out with...?" you repeat. 

He shrugs. "Yeah? Isn't that what we've been doing this whole time?" 

"Do you consider having your dick down my throat a typical normal hangout?" you ask curiously, sliding over a napkin when Gen chokes on his drink. "Is this how you hang out with all your friends? With your cum leaking down their thighs? We never used to do this stuff before you proposed that we fuck as friends, so what gives?" 

"No," Gen says. "What's the matter with you?" 

"I'm just trying to figure something out," you say, and you straighten in your seat. "So when you say you don't want to hang out with anyone else, do you mean going out to mobile figure shops and cafes, or fucking, or both?" 

"All of it?" Gen says, "I only wanna do all that stuff with you." 

"Huh," you say. You take another big bite of parfait. "Okay, then." 

"What?" 

You shrug. "Nothing. I'm done. Can I have your jacket, now?" 

Gen stares, but you don't give any hint about what you're thinking, so he takes off his jacket and hands it over, watching as you disappear to the bathroom with your bag. He pays the bill while he waits, foot tapping impatiently as he scrolls through his feeds really quick, the posts flying past without being processed. 

You take his hand when you come back, wearing his track jacket zipped all the way up, the sleeves a bit too long and bunched around your wrists. Your bag looks a little fuller, but nothing seems amiss, so he lets you lead him out and towards the bookstore by the train station. 

"The white t-shirt and track pants is also a good look on you," you remark idly. "Really, it's so unfair that you're so hot." 

"Hottest guy on the Force," Gen says proudly, just to hear you laugh. "If we did a popularity poll, I'd win first place, easy." 

"I don't know," you hum thoughtfully, ignoring his outraged hah? to add, "I think people might be really into bowl cuts and microbangs, lately." 

No way. "Says who? They must have terrible taste," Gen says, "or they just haven't seen my promotional posters. There was a huge uptick in recruits once those went out!" 

"I thought those were because of Captain Ashiro," you say, and Gen's jaw drops. "She's really hot, too, you know." 

"They were not because of her," he protests immediately, scowling. "We should send out a survey asking the newbies why they joined." 

"It's alright," you reassure him, stepping into the bookstore with a smile, "even if you don't rank highest as the one bringing in all the recruits, you're still hottest to me." 

Gen wants to frown, but if you think he's hot, then... well, that's good. Great, really, because it means he can rest his hand along your back as you peruse the shelves, and you'll just take it as his mild possessiveness coming in to play. You've never mentioned it, but you aren't dumb, and there's no way you've missed how often he leaves marks and hickeys and loves to have you leaking with his cum. 

His hand sweeps up your back as you bend to look at a display, and something in his gut jerks when he doesn't encounter any resistance. 

Fuck. 

You straighten and reach for a book, his track jacket on your shoulders shifting and bunching with the movement, the bottom hem of it rising just enough past the waistband of your shorts, exposing bare skin, and — 

Yeah. Okay. He's gonna take you to a hotel after this. There's no way he'll make it back to the base. 

Not with you walking around the city with no bra or shirt on beneath his track jacket. 

"Are you trying to get us arrested?" Gen hisses, once you've reached an empty aisle together. 

You blink at him. "No?" 

Fuck. The glimmering mirth hiding beneath your innocent expression makes him want to laugh, but he's trying so hard to will his boner down that he can't even manage a snort. 

"Oh, here it is!" you say, distracted from his internal struggles. You grab a wrapped manga volume and hold it up to your chest triumphantly, and Gen wants to die because he can see the peaks of your nipples stiff against his track jacket, small nubs that could be explained away as the fabric bunching except that now he knows you aren't wearing anything underneath it. 

"I hate you," he grumbles halfheartedly, and you laugh, the sound tugging his lips to curl upwards in response. 

"Let me pay, and we can head back to the base," you say cheerfully, like you aren't a walking menace with a mild exhibitionism streak. 

Gen shouldn't be surprised, really. He's felt the way you clench around him when he's fucking you in an office, where anyone could knock on the doors or walk in. He knows the rush gets to you, knows you trust him enough to make sure nobody ever actually catches you. 

"There's a hotel," he says, but you tug at his hand and drag him towards the station. 

"I wanna sleep in your futon tonight," you say, grinning sheepishly, "and I know you've got your ranking reset, so it's better if you have your BS5. You can play while I ride you." 

Gen's heart does some stupid clenching stuttering thing and he follows you to the train. He's given up on getting his boner under control. 

"You're a pervert," he mutters under his breath, crowding you into the corner as the train car fills. You splay your fingers wide on his torso, feeling him up under the pretense of holding him for support. His abs tense as you trail your fingers down. 

"Thanks for coming out with me today," you say sweetly, gripping the hem of his shirt for balance as the train sways. Gen blinks down at you, gaze searching yours for a trick, but finally he rolls his eyes. 

"Duh," he says. "Glad you understand the honor I've bestowed on you today, by hanging out with you —" 

"Yeah," you giggle, "I know I'm super lucky." 

Gen pauses his automatic monologue, biting at the inside of his cheek. It's not fair that you can be so cute, so understanding and funny and good at being around him, being with him. He frowns and ends up staring out the window as the train whisks through the city, if only to keep from kissing you in public. 

You let go of his hand once you get back to the base, and Gen flexes his fingers, feeling the empty space keenly. And even though he knows — he knows you're naked beneath his track jacket — somehow, once you're both in his room, he sets your bags down in an empty bit of floor, follows you to his futon on socked feet and climbs over you slowly. 

"Gen?" 

You only call him that behind closed doors, and usually in the middle of falling apart. You reach up, combing his bangs back, fingers sinking into his hair. Your thumb brushes along his cheek and he leans into your palm, heart aching. "You're so fucking cute," he mutters, giving in. 

You taste like the parfait, lightly sweet. Your skin is cold where he reaches down to skim along that slip of skin between shorts and socks, and you shiver into him, your free hand clutching at his shirt, drawing him closer. Gen kisses you and kisses you, lips moving languidly against your own, tongue and teeth and spit slicked heat stoking fire in his lungs. 

Gen grunts when you tug him closer, yanking him off balance enough to rest fully in the cradle of your hips, the hot, hard length of him pressing thick against your warmth. The seam of your shorts doesn't seem to matter to you, and you whine, ankles crossing behind his back to keep him there. 

"Fuck," he bites out. You lean up to kiss his throat, lashes fluttering against his skin. 

"Gen," you whisper, and he huffs a quiet laugh into your hair, reaches to slip his hand beneath the jacket you're borrowing. 

"You're perfect for me, y'know?" he mumbles, calloused hand scraping along your scarred skin. Nobody escapes fighting kaiju without a few scars. 

"I'm really, really wet, Gen," you confess, laughing when he groans. His fingers find your nipples, pinches the hard peaks just to feel you arch into him. The soft give of your tits in his palm makes him shudder, the fabric of his briefs getting sticky with his arousal. 

Gen finally unzips the track jacket, splaying the fabric out around your body. Your bare skin greets him, your chest rising and falling as you try to rock your hips into him, chasing friction he won't give. "Fuck me." 

"I'd love to," you pout, and Gen presses his grin into your neck. 

"Pants off," he demands, and you unlock your ankles immediately, your own hands flying to your shorts to get them unbuttoned as Gen helps. He follows them down as he drags them off your legs, nipping at the plush skin just above your thigh high socks. He pulls your panties off, too, just for good measure, pausing to press a kiss to the little bow above your curls before taking them off and tossing them away. 

You whimper when he settles himself between your thighs, forcing your legs apart with his shoulders. 

"Gen," your voice comes out wobbly, thick with embarrassment. "You don't need to, to uh, ah —" 

He ignores you, because he can't help himself. The curls above your center are soaked, glistening with your own arousal, and he kisses his way up your inner thighs, licks a stripe up your core. 

"Gen —" and your heel meets his back, your body's reaction instinctual as he groans and buries his face in your pussy. 

You're twitching and gasping and squirming, torn between running and chasing, so Gen clamps his arms around your thighs and pins you in place, sucks your clit between his lips and listens to your pleas. 

He doesn't give in to them, though — there's no way in hell he's gonna stop now, not when you're dripping down his chin and soaking the collar of his shirt. His own hunger is quiet, lethal, a riptide beneath the surface, a gaping maw that takes and takes and takes. 

Maybe it's helped, that he's had you once already this morning. Maybe that's why he works you carefully, edging you closer and closer to orgasm, winding you up tighter until your thighs are threatening to clamp around his head, your fingers tugging at his hair in desperation. 

"Gen, please," you gasp, "please please please I need you, inside, please." 

He doesn't want to cum yet. He slips two fingers into your pussy, but he doesn't stretch you out. He wants you to take everything he'll give you, first, because you're the only one who can take it. 

Gen makes you squirt, two fingers pressing hard at your inner walls, holding you steady as your back arches clean off the futon. 

"Thank you," he groans, helpless, lightheaded, so hard it hurts. "Fuck, thank you, that was perfect, you're perfect, thank fuck." 

You tug him up weakly, panting, breathless, and he shoves his pants down and sinks into you with a groan. 

It's a stretch — but you're soaked, absolutely filthy with spit and arousal, so his pre just adds to the mess as he works you open on his cock. 

And he could fuck you with the frantic energy floating in his peripherals, the fast and heavy slam of his dick into your waiting, welcoming pussy, but — you clench around him, gaze hazy, your hands insistent on his biceps and forearms as he hovers above you. 

"You feel so good," you moan, and Gen leans down to kiss you. 

He keeps kissing you when he starts to move, swallows down your gasps as he fucks you into the futon. His track jacket is still wide open around your body, so he can see your tits bounce with every thrust, the hickeys blooming on your skin. "You're gorgeous." 

Gen rocks into you hard, making you feel every thick inch of his cock along your insides, the stretch as you ache to accommodate him. You feel — 

He can't even — 

You clench around him, trying to keep up with his steady pace and failing, falling apart again and again on his dick. Your voice cracks on his name, pleasure shooting through you like an arrow, nearly sending him over the edge as you lock up around him. 

Gen keeps going, though, chasing something unknowable, his world narrowing down to you surrounding him, wet and hot and clenching tight as if you don't want him to leave. 

"Gen, fuck, you ngh feel — you feel so good, Gen, oh please I can't Gen I can't I can't please no —" 

Your back tries to bow off the futon with the force of this orgasm, but Gen grunts and sucks in a sharp breath, holding still as his balls tighten dangerously. He's close, really fucking close, and he doesn't even know why he's holding back except that he's almost got it. 

You blink tears out of your eyes as you reach for him, panting wildly. The kiss is more breath than touch, more broken off whines than actual words, and he's so lightheaded with arousal and fondness and something sharp and aching in his chest that he barely registers when you drag him close, until he's crushing you into the futon. 

"Gen," you kiss him, the wet, messy sounds of you echoing in the room. "Ah — I like you, Gen, I like you so much, I'm — I'm —" 

And everything snaps. 

It's like his brain stem's been zapped, every single bit of tension in his body released, pumping you full as you squeeze him dry, his cock throbbing endlessly. Distantly he moves his lips against yours, familiarity turning into instinct, kissing you silly. 

Holy shit. 

"Mine, mine, good and perfect and mine," Gen mumbles, slowly returning to his senses. "Fuck." 

"Fuck me," you laugh, and it comes out rough. 

"Already? I know I'm good, but you're gonna have to give me a minute." 

"Shut up," you squish his cheeks together, smoothing your thumbs along the tired circles beneath his eyes. "I can't believe you didn't even take off your shirt." 

Gen smirks. He can't help it, though it comes out a little softer than usual. He can't help that, either. "If you wanted to check me out, all you have to do is ask." 

"I want to check you out," you deadpan, and Gen rolls his eyes, but he lifts himself up, yanking off his shirt and tossing it aside. You reach for his torso almost instinctively, hands smoothing up his abs to rest on his chest, careful of the scar tissue everywhere. 

"All yours," Gen says smugly. 

You smile happily, tugging him down again and letting out a little oof when he obliges and presses his face to your hair. "Same. All yours, Gen." 

"What'd you do with your bra and shirt?" 

"They're in my bag," you say. You comb your fingers through his hair, ruffling the strands as he turns his head so that he can rest his lips at your temple. "Though you did throw my panties somewhere..." 

"I'll find it for you later," Gen mumbles. Now that he's finally released the tension accumulated from the day, his limbs feel heavy. It's nice, being skin to skin like this, feeling your heart pound against his own, a call and response. "Maybe after another round." 

"Another — Gen? I'll die. I swear I'll die." 

"You're one of my best platoon leaders. You've got better stamina than that." 

"That doesn't mean I'll survive another round!" You protest, but you're giggling, ankles locked behind his back, keeping him pinned to you. "This lingerie set was expensive, okay, so I really don't want to lose it." 

"My track jacket was kinda expensive, you know." 

"Shut up," you snort. "I'll buy you six more just like it, so you can live in track pants for the entire week." 

"I dunno," Gen shrugs, his kitty cat smirk on full display, "I'll be shooting blanks if this is the response I'm gonna get every time." 

"You like it," you say. 

"It's only right," he says, grinning into your hair, "that you put yourself on Narumi Gen duty, if you're gonna go around jumping me for dressing in civvies." 

You gasp, and it's theatrical. "Are you promoting me? What's my new ranking?" 

Gen leans up just enough to face you, to kiss you softly, lazily. "Top ranking, obviously," he mumbles, "and mine." 

You kiss him back. "Yeah? That's silly. I've always been yours." 

And maybe that should scare him, or worry him, since — the Defense Force comes first. It has to, because it's the only thing he's good at. So claiming you... shouldn't be happening. 

But it's so easy with you. Showering and sneaking into an empty mess hall to grab food, stumbling back into his room and making out on his futon until you get desperate enough to ride him — it's all easy. Comfortable and almost unbearably good. 

"I've changed my mind," you say, fingers drawing aimless patterns along his bare back as he taps away at his controller. On screen, flickering against the darkness of his room, Gen blows up a few zombies. "One track jacket is enough of an issue for me. I can't buy you any more." 

"Excuse me, I think you mean the great Narumi Gen is the irresistible one," he grumbles, "and not the stupid jacket." 

"You're definitely up there," you concede, hands smoothing along his back muscles. It feels good, soothing. He could fall asleep like this. "But let's be real, the track jacket is the MVP."