Satoru Gojo was always a little shit. He just happened to have a seven-year-old accomplice now.
Your son was a carbon copy of his father. Same fluffy white hair, same bright blue eyes, same annoyingly perfect face. Your genes had taken one look at Gojo’s DNA, sighed, and given up completely.
And, of course, he had Limitless.
Which was why you walked into the backyard that Wednesday afternoon and found the two of them standing in the middle of the grass, looking far too proud of themselves.
Your son was hovering three centimeters above the grass, his tiny dark sunglasses perched proudly on his nose. They were completely unnecessary, of course, but he’d insisted on wearing them because Dad wore sunglasses too, and apparently that was enough reason.
In front of him stood Satoru, looking like the world’s most irresponsible father as he casually tossed pebbles at his son, watching each one stop in midair before it could touch him with pure delight.
“See? Perfect!” Satoru said, grinning. “Now try walking forward while keeping it up. No breaking concentration. You’re not just strong, you’re untouchable. You’re better than most of the kids at—”
“Satoru Gojo”
Both heads turned.
Satoru slowly looked over his shoulder, his smile already morphing into the unmistakable expression of a man who had just been caught doing something incredibly stupid and had decided charm was his only remaining defense.
“Hey, baby.” His grin widened. “You look beautiful today. It’s like the sun manifested in your face.”
You crossed your arms.
“You were throwing rocks at our son.”
“Supervised rocks.”
You narrowed your eyes.
“And you were about to tell him he’s better than most of the kids at school.”
“Well, that’s t—” Satoru stopped himself when he caught your glare.
Your son looked between the two of you and decided to help.
“Dad said if I get really good at Infinity, even you won’t be able to catch me when I’m in trouble.”
Satoru closed his eyes like he was in physical pain.
“…Buddy. We talked about the timing of honesty.”
You pointed toward the house.
“Both of you. Inside. Time-out. Now.”
Satoru blinked. “Both of us?”
“Yes. You for turning Infinity into a ‘get out of trouble free’ card, and him for looking way too excited about it.”
Your son finally lowered himself onto the grass, his little sunglasses sliding down his nose.
“But I was doing really good...”
“Hallway. Wall. Ten minutes.”
“Moooooom—”
“Fifteen.”
They disappeared into the house.
Ten minutes later, you walked past the hallway and found them sitting side by side against the wall. Mini-Gojo was cross-legged on the floor, tiny sunglasses still perched on his nose like he was serving time in juvenile detention. Stupid-Gojo had his legs stretched out beside him.
They looked identical. Same pout. Same furrowed brows. Same deeply offended expression of two people who had apparently been wronged by the justice system.
Your son leaned toward his father and whispered, “Dad... is Mom really mad?”
Satoru glanced toward you before whispering back, “Furious. And she’s the strongest person in this house, so maybe don’t make eye contact.”
You cleared your throat.
Both heads snapped up at the same time. Satoru immediately put on his most innocent smile. “We were reflecting.”
Your son nodded solemnly. “A lot.”
You raised an eyebrow. “And what did you learn?”
Your son opened his mouth. Satoru shot him a warning look. But it was already too late.
“That next time we should practice when mom’s at the store.”
Satoru dropped his head back against the wall with a groan.
You stared at them for a long second. Then you pointed at the wall again.
“Another fifteen minutes. Both of you.”
Mini-Gojo gasped. “Dad, you got us more time!”
“I regret teaching you how to talk.” Stupid-Gojo muttered under his breath.
They sat there in matching silence, matching white hair, matching blue eyes, matching punishment.
You walked away before either of them could see the smile you were fighting.
Behind you, there was a moment of silence. Then, very quietly:
“Dad?”
“Yeah, buddy?”
“Can Infinity get us out of time-out?”
Stupid-Gojo glanced down at Mini-Gojo.
“...Technically.”
“Satoru.”
“I’M KIDDING.”
You rolled your eyes and went back to whatever you’d been doing. It was only Wednesday. You sighed.
꒰ cw; age gap, established relationship, creampie, backshots, use of ‘daddy’ like twice, ib this vid … ꒱
realistically, you’d think toji would be the one begging to fuck without a condom — to rip off that pesky piece of latex and feel the warmth of his girl’s pussy without a barrier.
but no.
god, he misses filling you up with his load and watching it leak out of your used hole, the feeling of your wet cunt squeezing his dick, but since you’d come off birth control, he figured he’d rather be restricted by a condom than have another kid.
it’s the same every time he fucks you now. "mnghh, baby—just t-take it off," you whine, desperate to feel him properly. sure, the condom isn’t much of a hindrance to you, though it’s still not the same. you miss feeling your boyfriend properly.
in turn, toji always responds with the same sentences. "can’t, baby. once i feel this pussy suckin’ me in i won’t be able to pull out", or "too bad, princess. ain’t tryin’ to have another kid."
it felt hopeless. you were this close to throwing out every damn condom in the house.
until tonight.
one thing about you and your older boyfriend? when one of you has been away, as soon as you’re reunited you fuck like animals. rough, filthy, mind blowing sex that more than makes up for the time you’ve missed out on together. luckily for you, you’d been away for a week visiting your parents.
like always, toji was all over you the second you walked through the door, his hands far from gentle as they roamed your body, lips demanding against yours.
which is how you got here — face down, pressed against the plush pillows beneath you, ass hiked allllll the way up as toji pounds you like there’s no tomorrow. "tojiii—hmfghh—" you moan out, toes curled into tight balls from overwhelming pleasure.
"haah—missed my girl," toji rasps, hypnotised by the sight of your ass rippling with every harsh thrust. he keeps one hand on your hip, gripping it tightly, the other reaching for your hair before tugging it towards him, lifting your face from the pillow. "let me hear how good i’m fuckin’ you."
more needy moans escape you, the sound pairing nicely with the sound of toji’s heavy balls smacking against your skin. "got no idea how much i wanna fill you up, spread this pretty cunt open and watch you leak," he says, almost growling, tightening his grip on your hair.
you’re fucked completely stupid, almost drooling from pleasure, until you come up with the perfect idea with your last coherent thought. toji’s hands are occupied. you reach back with shaky hands, gripping the condom at the thick base of his cock, moving forward until toji’s no longer inside of you. you tug on the thin piece of latex until it’s ripped clean off.
you expected toji to protest a little, but no. nothing. he chuckles, letting you do it. "greedy fuckin’ girl," he says, lining himself back up, teasing your entrance with his tip so he can hear you beg for it. you try to back yourself onto his length, pussy clenching around nothing — "please, daddy, don’t tease—need it."
toji smirks, forcing you back into a filthy arch before slamming back in, taking the air from your lungs. "fuck—just this once." admittedly, he almost cums on the spot from the familiar sensation of your raw, warm cunt fluttering around his dick.
you swear you can feel every thick, pulsing vein on his cock as he bullies it in and out of you, gripping the sheets helplessly like you might explode at any moment. "tojiii," you moan, voice high-pitched and desperate, "want your cum—mgnhh—need to feel it."
the second you finish your sentence, your body tenses, pussy clenching around his cock as your orgasms rips through you. "hah—fuck, yeah—that’s my good girl, daddy’s good fuckin’ girl," he encourages.
he fucks you through it, still far from gentle, jaw clenched as he tries to muster up the strength to pull out — a prominent vein appearing on his forehead from restraining himself.
fuck it. just this once. plan b exists.
with a low groan, toji snaps, releasing copious amounts of hot cum inside of you, gripping your hips bruisingly tight as he milks himself dry.
you smile to yourself as his cum fills you to the brim, knowing eventually, you always get what you want — constantly spoiled by your older boyfriend.
"don’t say i never give you nothin’" he rasps, panting slightly, leaning over to kiss your spine.
a/n; thank you sm for 8k !!! i love all of my hot girlfriends
you were a virgin. well, for a reason. it was rooted in puritan traditions as well as an idealistic personal choice of wanting your first to be with someone you marry.
“this isn’t sex. so don’t worry” satoru flashed a puerile smile, showcasing his milk white canine teeth which dug in to his spit glossed lips.
his cock, colored in a deeper shade of wisteria with protruding veins woven around, slid on the thin layer of your dampened panties. your thighs were parted with his obstinate hands, both knees pressed right on the mattress; having you in full view.
your cotton panties, were too wet, clinging on to you—even more so, due to him caressing and pressing it on your skin with the help of his shaft to vividly showcase the lining of your pussy.
“relax cutie, this is within the rules” albeit, it actually wasn’t.
clearly not at all. but all you could do was let out indecent whimpers of bittersweet pleasure. satoru’s idea of celibacy was simple. anything but the intercourse—which was totally wrong but oh well. “come on, baby. don’t be shy”. his cheeky cadence trapped you in a profane dichotomy; left you teetering between a rebuke or an allowing of him to continue his orgasmic torture.
“’toru, mhm, n–no..” puny protests scrambled from your mouth earning a teasing chuckle from him. “haah—please” but it all simply met with complete disregard.
satoru’s bulky tip, a muted smudge of a pastel pink, was already salivating. a string of thick pre-cum on his slit, dispersed itself on the wetness of your panties. “hm, you sure say no but you are dripping for me” he uttered through clenched teeth, rubbing the underside of his length on to your clothed folds. “yeah, feel this huh?”.
a hedonistic smiled etched on to his porcelain face, the corner of his lips formed a torpid crescent. mischievously, his pale fingers guided himself in between your folds, his dick grinding itself between your puffed labia. “fuck, you seriously do grip like a damn virgin”.
he squeezed the bulbous head of his cock, his speed increasing with needy pantings. sweat beads laid artistry of webs on his forehead, temple and neck. his pearl luminescent face was flush with a spread of crimson from pure need and want.
his eyes had drooped, jaw tightened as he stretched the hem of your panties upwards till your naval. the movement caused the fabric to thin out—you could feel him. clearly. tangible even with the barrier of your soaked panties.
you let out a visceral moan when his tip nudged your clit with a soft, slow kiss. his cockhead traced the outline of your cunt, palpating red to stuff you full with his cum soiled dick.
“fuck, wonder what it’d be like inside this tight virgin pussy.” his lilt slowed, sensual as if aching with yearn. his blue-flamed orbs darkened in to a softer grey, half-lid, staring directly at you. “you ever wonder that, sweetie? this huuuge dick slowly filling you up, right inside this sweet little spot. would go all the way in yeah. mhm… ever think of so?”
“thinking about me bottoming out. you know what that is baby? every inch of me inside of you. inside your wet cunt. hmm, takin’ your virginity, corruptin’ every bit of your innocence.”
and there it was. with a few more incessant rubs against your outline, he spurted out thick loads of pasty-like cum on to you. his hand made sure milk all of it out, whorishly rubbing the cream all over your covered hole, giving your wet pussy a few slaps. “see, kept my word. didn’t i? no sex” an audacious statement formed with a complacent grin.
this wasn’t supposed to be.
the deal was simply to see what a penis looked like. not to have your best friend fuck you through your panties.
♡ 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐃𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓... to catching you humping your pillow?
THEY'RE AMUSED ♡ walking in on their sweetheart so needy cause they're not around? shiiittt. they can't help but prop themselves against the doorway, fold their arms and watch your slippery lil' cunt stain the pillow with your desperation. their eyes deep with lustful humour. had you even seen them yet? or were you too busy picturing yourself grinding on their thigh? their presence is announced with a low, rough whistle that jolts you upright and has you scrambling in embarrassment. all while their brow's arched, head tilted, crooning in that dark, silk sin: “welcome home to me, I guess.” sure felt like a homecoming when they pinned you down and spread you open on their cock.
SATORU · suguru · kashimo
THEY'RE HELPFUL ♡ they're almost pouting the second they register it. your sweet slick soaking the pillow case, your needy little whimpers, tits perked against their shirt that hangs off of your shoulders. poor thing, had they left you all needy? it's a sin they'll have to atone for by coming up behind you, snatching your thighs, and pressing hot kisses up your shivering neck. you'll jump in surprise— but they squeeze you against them. “my sweet baby... so desperate?” a kiss pressed to your ear as they roll your hips down, guiding your clit to grind just right. squishing your thighs on the pillow to provide you the perfect pressure. “let me help... make it up to my favourite girl for leaving her pussy so needy, hmm?”
THEY'RE GREEDY ♡ what? you thought they'd just be satisfied walking in on you grinding your messy cunt on a pillow? course not. they make their presence known with a hum. casual as they lean against the wall, hands shoved in their pockets. “what?” their brow arches, gaze dragging in dark appreciation down your quivering body. when they meet your eyes again, there's a deep, raw current: effortless dominance. “don't stop now, baby. show's all yours, have at it.” a lazy grin tugs to their lips as you listen, as you always did, rocking your hips into the pillow, maintaining eye contact because you knew it's what they loved. “thereee you go. feels good to be a needy slut for me, doesn't it?”
SUKUNA · satoru · toji · yuta · satoshi
THEY'RE SADISTIC ♡ because, how dare you? fluff up your pillow, pull those sticky panties off, and decide to grind that cute cunt on a useless piece of fabric instead of asking them for help? “am I a joke to you?” that's how they make their presence known, and before you can go on your spiel of being embarrassed and stammering, they're grabbing you by the jaw. kissing you hard, senseless, breathless. and then abruptly shoving your face into the pillow. cradling the back of your neck as they stroke a thumb along your pulse. “go on.” you feel their voice on your ear. they're loomed over you, dripping with rough amusement. “lick that pillow clean for me, since you prefer it instead of asking me for help.”
contains consensual rough sex, psycho energy with obsessive undertones, dirty talk, semi-public, praise/degradation mix, light fearplay, mild blood, overstimulation, face touching, possessive behavior, sensual dominance, fucked-up tenderness
He’s been watching you.
Not in the way a predator watches prey. No.
Ryu Ishigori watches you the way a gourmand studies a seven-course meal: slow, savoring, curious.
His tongue glides across the inside of his cheek as he tracks your movements through the crumbling Sendai ruins, and when you finally face him, blood on your blade and a smirk tugging your lip, he smiles like a man who’s just read a perfect wine pairing.
“Well,” he says, brushing ash off his fur-lined sleeve. “Aren’t you just the most beautiful thing in this wasteland.”
You raise your blade. “You flirting or stalling?”
He laughs before tucking his hands into his coat and tilting his head like a polite aristocrat. “Why not both? Though if it’s worth anything, I’d rather take my time with you.”
Your cursed energy flares. So does his smile.
The fight is explosive but controlled. He doesn’t try to kill you. Not really. He tests your strength like a lover teasing your boundaries, slipping in close just to whisper compliments mid-duel.
“You parry like a dancer,” he purrs, dodging a slash. “Did you train under someone? Or are you just that talented?”
You grit your teeth. “Stop fucking talking.”
“Now, now. That’s no way to treat a man who’s enjoying himself.”
Eventually, he traps you. Not with brute force but precision. Your back hits concrete. His palm presses lightly—just lightly—to your throat. He leans in. His breath smells like smoke and something faintly sweet. “You’re not scared,” he murmurs.
“No.”
“You should be,” he says, and then, softly, so gently it makes your stomach twist, he brushes your hair behind your ear. “But I like that you’re not.”
You stare at him. His eyes are blown wide with obsession, and yet his touch is tender.
“I want to taste you,” he says, voice rich and calm, like he’s inviting you to dinner. “Not just your body. Your limit. Your spirit. The moment you crack under me—I want that.”
You blink. “You always talk this much before sex?”
He huffs a breathy laugh. “Only when I’m starving.”
You should say no. But when he leans in and kisses you slow and reverent, his thumb caressing your jaw, you let him.
He undresses you like he’s unwrapping something rare. Not rushed. Not rough. He watches every reaction, every inhale, every twitch, and smiles when you gasp as his fingers stroke between your legs.
“You’re already this wet,” he says, soft and delighted. “God, you’re perfect. May I?”
“…Yes,” you whisper.
He sighs, relieved. “Thank you.”
Then he devours you.
But even then, he’s careful. Skilled. He holds your hips firmly but doesn’t bruise until you ask. And when you tug his hair, grind into his face, and moan his name like it’s a spell, he pulls away just to look at you.
“You’re the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” he says hoarsely. “I think you might be the only thing I’ll ever want again.”
He fucks you hard, yes—but also slow at first, deliberate. He whispers praise against your skin even as he slams into you harder, even as his teeth sink into your shoulder.
“Taking me so well. That brain of yours, so sharp and now look at you. Fucked dumb.”
You whimper. He grabs your face, thumb pressing into your cheek. “Still with me?”
“…Yes,” you breathe.
He kisses your temple. “Good girl.”
And then he ruins you.
By the time he’s done, your body is trembling, dripping, overstimulated and marked in places no one will see but him.
He holds you for a long time after. Presses his palm to your chest and listens to your heartbeat. “…Thank you,” he murmurs again. “You’ve given me something I didn’t think existed anymore.”
You barely speak, dazed. He pulls your clothes back on with eerie care. Straightens your collar. Kisses your knuckles. Then, with that same terrifying smile: “I’ll see you again, sweetheart. Don’t go dying on me. I’m not done with you.”
Your next mission was simple, track a C-grade curse nest, handle it alone, report back. You’d cleared the job quickly, efficiently. But something in your gut itched. A pressure.
Like you were being watched.
And then, like smoke curling at the edge of your vision—you feel it. That cursed energy. That slow, molten pulse. Familiar now. Like a matchstick struck against your skin.
You don’t bother turning around.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” you mutter, wiping blood off your blade.
Footsteps crunch slowly over gravel.
“I’m not?” The voice is calm. Smooth as lacquered wood. “How rude of me. I didn’t know this forest was yours.”
You exhale through your nose. “Ishigori.”
“Still using my full name?” he chuckles, finally stepping into your periphery. “After how close we got?”
You glance at him.
He’s dressed cleaner than any man has a right to be in cursed territory—charcoal pants, a pressed shirt under an open coat, as if he just walked out of a high-end restaurant. He’s even wearing gloves.
“You’re not my target,” you mutter.
“Nor are you mine.” He spreads his arms slightly, grinning. “A rare moment of peace, don’t you think?”
You don’t move. You don’t lower your weapon.
He steps closer. “I heard you were in the area. Took a detour.”
You raise a brow. “Heard from who?”
He doesn’t answer.
Instead, he stops right in front of you, eyes raking over your frame—subtle, hungry, but restrained. You can feel the tension he’s holding under that gentleman mask. The need to touch. To taste. To own.
But he doesn’t. Not yet.
“You look well,” he murmurs. “Still strong. Sharp-eyed.” His gaze flicks to your throat. “No new marks.”
You bristle. “You expecting someone else to leave them?”
He smiles wider. “I was hoping you’d let me do it again.” Silence stretches. Then, softly, almost conspiratorially—he steps even closer and says: “Do you think about it?”
Your pulse spikes. His gloved fingers skim along your wrist. Barely a touch. “That night,” he murmurs. “Your body. My hands. The way you trembled.”
You tighten your jaw. “You’re not here to fight. Don’t push your luck.”
His eyes flash. “No fighting. Just indulging.”
He moves behind you, slow and controlled, like a chef circling a rare cut of meat. His breath kisses your ear as he leans down.
“You remember what I said, don’t you?” he whispers. “You’re not a habit. You’re the main course.”
You step forward quickly, putting distance between you, trying to catch your breath.
He doesn’t chase. He just watches. Calm. Collected. Starving.
“I won’t touch you,” he says. “Not unless you ask.”
“…Why are you really here?”
He shrugs, brushing imaginary lint off his coat. “Because you made me feel something. I’ve killed a hundred sorcerers, but I only remember you.”
Your throat tightens. “You’re insane.”
“I’m honest,” he says, voice smooth. “You’re just not used to being wanted like this.”
You hate how true that feels. You hate that your fingers twitch with memory—the silk sheets, his mouth, the bruises he kissed afterward.
Ryu steps closer again. “Let me make you dinner.”
You blink. “What?”
He grins. “No games. No missions. Just us. Food. Wine. Conversation. I want to see what you’re like when you’re not bleeding.”
“And if I say no?“
He pauses. Then in a tone so sincere it stabs through your armor, he says: “Then I’ll leave. I won’t follow. Not tonight.”
You study him. There’s madness in his eyes. Hunger. But also patience. Focus. Like he’s waited his whole life for something to deserve craving. “…Where?”
He smiles. And it’s devastating. “I’ll send the coordinates.” And then, true to his word—he turns and walks away.
No fight. No threats.
But as he vanishes into the trees, you swear you hear him whisper to himself: “God, she’s perfect.”
The place he sends you isn‘t a restaurant.
It’s a private villa, remote, clean, designed. Tucked into the hillside like a secret, with lights that glow gold through polished windows. There’s soft jazz playing inside. Wine breathing on the counter.
And the scent of seared garlic and roasted something hangs in the air like an invitation.
You step through the door slowly. He doesn’t greet you.
He’s already in the kitchen, back to you, shirtless, barefoot, wearing slacks low on his hips. A towel’s draped around his neck, and his hair.
It makes you stop. You’d never seen it like this before.
Usually he tucks it into a rolled style, twisted and clean, like a man who prides himself on presentation. You assumed it barely reached his jaw.
But now? It’s undone. Damp from the shower. Tousled. Soft waves curling around his temples and brushing the edges of his cheekbones.
He turns, sensing you.
“Ah.” His smile curls slowly. “Early.”
Your eyes flick to his hair.
His grin sharpens. “Didn’t know I had that much, did you?”
You blink once. “You hide it.”
“I contain it,” he replies smoothly, walking toward you. “Control is elegance.”
He’s holding a wine glass. Not in a rush to give it to you, just offering it slowly, as if sharing is a gift you’ve earned.
You take it. He watches the way your fingers curl around the stem. “That’s a 2010 Clos de Tart,” he says. “Pairing it with duck tonight.”
You take a sip. It’s too smooth, too expensive.
He watches you drink. “You’re tense,” he notes. “Still expecting me to throw you over the table?”
“You said no knives.”
“I did,” he nods, stepping just a little closer. “But I never said I wouldn’t touch you.”
You raise a brow. “Are we doing dinner or posturing?”
“Both,” he replies, amused. “Sit.”
You do. Against your better judgment.
The meal is simple. Ridiculously well-cooked. Perfect portions, garnishes, plating. The man probably used tweezers.
And yet—he doesn’t eat much. He just watches. Elbows on the table, chin resting on one hand, damp strands of hair curling against his temple.
“You always look at people this intensely?” you mutter.
“No,” he says. “Just you.”
Your skin prickles.
He rises to clear the table without asking. Moves like someone who’s practiced this, not because he serves people, but because he likes the control.
You shift in your seat. “What do you do when you’re not trying to seduce someone?”
“I don’t try,” he says from the kitchen. “I choose.”
And when he returns—you feel it again: That gaze. Focused. Electric. He stops in front of you. “I told you I wouldn’t touch you unless you asked.”
You stand slowly. “I didn’t ask.”
He steps into your space. Close. Steady. “You’re going to.” His voice is low. Confident. Unhurried. The kind of calm that’s more dangerous than any threat.
You lift a hand, fingertips grazing through the hair at his temple. It’s soft. Still damp at the roots.
“So this is what you hide,” you murmur.
“Only from people who don’t deserve it,” he replies, tilting his face into your touch.
Your heart’s racing. He looks down at you like you’re dessert and wine and destruction all at once. “Tell me you want me.”
You exhale. “I do.”
His hand finds your hip. His other lifts to cup your jaw, slow and precise. And he kisses you. Not like the wild first time. No. This is measured. Claimed. Lips dragging, thumb brushing under your ear, every part of him pulling you into his pace.
He hums against your mouth.
“Still the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” he whispers. Then his forehead presses to yours. “Let me undress you properly this time.”
You’re not sure how you got to his bedroom.
Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the way his hand slid to the back of your neck during the kiss. Maybe it was that voice—that calm, composed voice saying “Let me undress you properly this time.”
Now you stand in front of him. His hands are on your hips. His hair is still curled slightly around his jaw, framing a face that’s too beautiful for the things he’s done.
You stare at him. Then you say it. “Why are you like this?”
He tilts his head, eyes soft. “Like what?”
“I thought you were going to kill me. Back in Sendai, when I saw your cursed energy—” your voice drops, raw, “I thought I was going to die.”
He brushes a hand over your side, slow, gentle. “You didn’t.”
“Right. Because you decided to fuck me instead?”
He laughs low, clean and delighted. “No,” he murmurs. “Because I decided you were rare.” His hand slides up to your ribcage. His thumb strokes your skin like he’s checking for cracks. “I’m not soft,” he continues. “I’m precise. I don’t waste effort on what doesn’t deserve it.”
You shiver under his touch.
He lowers his mouth to your collarbone, presses a kiss there—then whispers: “And I don’t damage what I want to keep coming back to.”
You should pull away.
Instead, your fingers find his waistband.
“You keep acting like you’re some refined gentleman,” you breathe, “but I saw you tear through a man’s ribcage with your bare hands.”
He smiles against your skin. “I washed them before I cooked.”
“Fucking psycho.”
His teeth graze your skin. “Maybe.”
He lifts your shirt, slowly, watching your face the whole time. “Arms up.”
You obey. Without thinking. Without fighting.
And that—that—makes him sigh.
“Good girl.”
You freeze. He notices.
“You like that,” he murmurs. “Even if you don’t know it yet.”
He kisses your stomach. One hand moving to your back, unfastening your bra with practiced ease.
“Let me look at you.”
He steps back.
You’re standing in nothing but your underwear now—exposed, vulnerable. But his gaze doesn’t leer. It catalogs. Like he’s building a memory of you in pieces. He walks around you once. Slow. One finger trailing down your spine. You hate how your breath stutters.
He stops behind you. Mouth to your ear. “I wanted to ruin you the first time,” he says. “But now I want to remember you.”
You whisper, hoarse, “This is insane.”
“Then tell me to stop.”
“No.“
He turns you, gently, and kisses you again. This time his hands are reverent, sliding down your arms, over your sides. He kneels in front of you without a word, fingers hooked in the waistband of your underwear. “You’re still tense,” he murmurs. “Let me help.”
Your voice cracks. “You’re the reason I’m tense.”
“And the reason you’re aroused.”
He pulls the fabric down slowly. Then he looks up at you, hair falling over one eye, mouth already parted as he breathes against your skin. “You still think I’m soft?”
You don’t answer.
Because then he licks up your thigh and your knees nearly give out. His mouth is barely inches from your core—tongue flicking out, teasing, savoring. His fingers spread your thighs with the same reverence he used slicing his steak at dinner.
But before he can go further, you stop him. Your fingers curl tight in his hair.
He pauses. “…Something wrong?” he asks, voice low, breath hot against your inner thigh.
You lean down slowly, gripping his chin, tilting his face up to look at you. “Yeah,” you say, smirking. “I’m bored of being dessert.”
Then you tug him up by his hair, fast, hard. His breath catches.
You don’t wait. You pushed him down onto the mattress, crawl over him like a threat, straddling his hips and pinning him with your thighs.
Ryu blinks up at you, hair a mess now, lips wet, hands still frozen mid-air. And then? He grins. “Oh. Okay,” he laughs breathlessly. “That’s how you want to play?”
You grind down once, slow and dangerous. His cock twitches through his slacks. You lean in, lips brushing his ear. “Stage is all mine, psycho killer.”
He exhales a sharp breath, arms going lax above his head. “Fuck,” he mutters, almost laughing. “I’m so fucking turned on right now.”
“Shut up,” you murmur, fingers dragging down his chest, nails leaving light scratches. “Your turn.”
You undo his pants with one hand, keeping your weight on him. His pupils dilate. His jaw clenches. He lifts his hips just enough for you to yank his slacks down. He’s already hard, of course he is and the second you wrap your hand around his cock, he groans. “Oh, fuck—”
You stroke once. Slow. Tight. He grips the sheets. You meet his eyes. “So responsive,” you say mockingly. “Didn’t take much to make you break, huh?”
“I’m not breaking,” he breathes. “You’re just—fuck—good.”
You smirk.
Then you slide down his body, never breaking eye contact, until your mouth is hovering just above his tip.
Ryu hisses when your breath ghosts over it. One of his hands shoots out to grip the headboard. You press a kiss to the side of his shaft. He twitches. “You said you liked detail,” you murmur.
“I—shit—yeah—”
“Good. Watch closely.”
And then you swallow him. All the way down. His eyes roll back. His hips jerk. You push him flat with your palm.
“No moving.”
You bob your head slowly at first—just enough to make him lose his goddamn mind. His legs tremble. His throat works hard as he swallows, breath shaking. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—” he groans.
Your lips drag up his cock with purpose, tongue teasing every vein. You hollow your cheeks. His abs flex.
“You’re gonna make me—fuck, you’re gonna make me come if you don’t—”
You pull off with a wet pop. “Beg.”
He blinks at you, stunned. “What?”
“You heard me. Beg.”
He stares. And then he grins like a man at gunpoint who’s never been harder. “…Please,” he rasps. “Please let me come. Fuck—do whatever you want to me.”
You crawl back up his chest, straddling his waist again. “You’re lucky I like the way you beg.”
You sink down on him in one motion. Both of you moan. Ryu’s hands shoot to your waist, but you grab them and shove them back down. “Uh-uh.”
He growls.
“You’re obsessed.”
“You’re not wrong.”
You ride him slow, grinding, forcing him to feel everything.
Ryu’s biting his lip now, neck arched, flushed to the chest, eyes desperate. “I’m gonna come, I’m—fuck, I can’t hold it, you feel so good—”
“Then come.”
And when he finally does, when his hips snap up and he spills into you with a broken moan and clenched fists—you lean down and whisper: “Who’s soft now?”
He laughs breathlessly, body twitching under yours. “…You should marry me,” he mutters.
You blink. “What?”
He looks up at you, eyes hazy, pupils blown. “I’m serious,” he pants. “You’re gonna be the death of me and I want it.”
His body’s still twitching beneath you. Chest rising and falling. Hair stuck to his forehead. Cum leaking down your thighs.
He looks fucking wrecked.
And you? You’re still on top of him. Breathless. Smirking.
You tilt your head, drag your fingers down his sweat-slicked chest, and murmur—“Big words for a tough guy…”
Your hips grind forward just slightly—slow, cruel, enough to make his legs tremble.
“…when I didn’t even come.”
Ryu’s breath catches. He blinks up at you. Then his eyes darken. Not in anger. In complete, feral awe. “Oh my god—” he breathes, eyes wide. “You’re unreal.”
You chuckle, leaning down to kiss the corner of his mouth. “You really came that fast, huh?”
“I—fuck off—you sucked me like it was a fucking death sentence,” he pants. “I saw God. I met my end.”
You laugh into his neck. But then—he flips. Literally. In one sharp, unexpected movement, he rolls you underneath him, arms caging you in, breathing heavy against your face.
“You didn’t come,” he whispers, voice shaking.
You blink. “Yeah. I know. I just said it.”
“I came inside you, and you didn’t fucking come—”
His hands are already moving, desperate, reverent—sliding down your stomach, between your thighs, two fingers slipping through his own cum leaking out of you.
He groans. Actually groans. “I made this mess,” he mutters, tracing the slick around your folds. “You took it—so fucking perfect—and you still… didn’t…”
He looks up. You freeze. His pupils are blown. Eyes glassy. Lips parted. Hair sticking to his cheekbone.
He looks insane. And then—calmly, sweetly, terrifyingly: “…Let me make it up to you.”
You barely manage to speak before he’s sinking down again.
But this time it’s different. There’s no swagger. No smirk. No games.
Just slow, obsessive reverence.
He spreads your thighs and kisses the inside like he’s praying. His hands shake as he lifts your hips to his mouth.
“I’m gonna make you come until you forget your own name.”
A kiss to your clit.
“I’m gonna taste you until I can’t remember food.”
A slow drag of his tongue. You shudder, head falling back.
“Ishigori—”
“No, no,” he murmurs, mouth against you, voice drunk. “Don’t say my name like that unless you mean it.”
Your legs jerk as his tongue swirls, slow at first, then focused. Intent. His nose presses into you. He groans into your pussy like he’s already addicted.
You fist the sheets. “Shit—fuck—”
He lifts his head, lips soaked, pupils nearly gone. “You like that?” he whispers, completely fixated. “I can do this all night. I’ll live here.”
You pull his hair. He moans. And then he goes back in with everything—tongue flicking, sucking, devouring you until your thighs shake.
You cry out as you finally come, grinding into his mouth, and he just keeps licking, arms locked around your thighs like he’ll never let you go.
Only when your body’s twitching does he pull back—face wrecked, lips shining, chest heaving.
He stares at you, like you just destroyed something inside him.
“I think I’m in love with you,” he says.
You blink.
“What?”
He climbs back up your body, grabs your face with both hands, and kisses you deep—messy, almost desperate.
“I said what I said.”
You’re still panting, limp against his chest, skin damp and trembling. He’s straddling your thigh, still hard, still flushed, staring at you like you’re the answer to every hunger he’s ever had.
You blink. Then—you laugh. Not mean. Not cruel. Just breathless and surprised and a little overwhelmed. “You’re such a fucking psycho,” you manage to say, giggling into your arm.
He smiles. Like he loves that answer. “God,” he murmurs, dragging a hand over his face. “You’re so fucking perfect. You don’t even know.”
You hum, tugging his towel off your pillow. “You’re insane. Like actually. You taste me once and suddenly you’re reciting vows?”
He shifts closer, grabs your face again—gentle, reverent.
“You don’t get it.” His voice is softer now, a little cracked. “I’ve had everything. Fought everything. Killed things people don’t even have words for. And none of them felt like this. You’re not just good. You’re—everything.”
His lips are at your throat again, but now it’s slower. Lingering. His hand on your waist tightens possessively, like he can feel you slipping out of his grasp already.
“You’re not leaving,” he says, matter-of-fact. “Not until I figure out how many times it takes to make you stay.”
But before you can respond—before you can mock him again, or kiss him, or tease—Something shifts. Like the air drops ten degrees.
That soft flicker of cursed energy—not his, not yours—foreign.
You feel it on your skin. A buzz. A static wrongness.
Your heart skips. Ryu goes still. His lips stop moving. His hands pause mid-stroke along your waist. He lifts his head slightly, like a predator catching scent.
You whisper, “Did you feel—”
He’s already moving. Quiet. Controlled. Like you flipped a switch.
He rises from the bed, muscles coiled and poised, no wasted motion. He walks across the room without rushing. He’s not frantic. He’s focused.
Before anything else, he reaches for his boxers on the floor. Slides them on with precision. No shame. No fluster. Just calm, unnerving intention. He doesn’t speak until he’s halfway to the balcony. “They followed you.”
His voice is quiet. Flat. Deadly.
You pull the sheet tighter around you. “I didn’t tell anyone—”
“I know.”
He says it like fact. Like gravity.
He stands at the glass door now, bare chest rising and falling, hands loose at his sides. His eyes scan the dark treeline, that chin-length hair still slightly damp, curling at his temples.
Then he hums. Soft. Like a man admiring the scent of wine. “They’re close.”
You sit up. “Ryu—”
“I’m not mad at you.” He turns toward you slowly. “But I’m going to erase them.”
Your throat dries. “…It could be a cursed spirit—”
“It’s not.”
His fingers twitch at his sides. Not clenched. Flexed. Like he’s warming up. Like his body is eager.
You swallow. “You’re not even putting on pants?”
He finally smiles. Crooked. Chilling. “I’m only going to need about 30 seconds.” He walks to the side table, picks up his zipper, shrugs it on over bare skin and boxers like it’s nothing. Like that’s just what he wears to kill. “I give them one chance to leave.”
“And if they don’t?”
He glances at you over his shoulder. That slow grin spreads again. Something unhinged underneath it. “I’ll bring you back their eyes in a bowl.”
Then he slides the glass door open and steps barefoot into the cold, night-drenched woods—not even slamming it.
The second he left, the room felt wrong.
Empty. Charged. Buzzing. You pulled one of his shirts from the dresser—black, oversized, warm from his body. Threw it over your head like armor. Then you sat back on the edge of the bed, trying to breathe through the silence.
Fifteen minutes. That’s how long he’s gone.
You don’t move.
Not when the cursed energy outside evaporates. Not when the forest goes still. Not even when the hum in the walls quiets like a held breath.
You’re afraid to look out the window. Because you know. You felt what he did. And then—The door opens. Slow.
You look up.
And your stomach drops straight through the floor.
He walks in without a sound. Not fast. Not angry.
But completely drenched.
His zipper jacket is open—unzipped halfway, stuck with something too dark to be water. His chest, his neck, his arms, slick with blood. Dried. Fresh. Splattered like he walked through a rainstorm of flesh.
His hands hang loose at his sides. Red down to the knuckles.
There’s blood on his throat. Blood in his hair. A streak smeared across one cheekbone like war paint.
And his eyes.
His eyes are the worst part. They’re bright. Wide. Excited.
He looks like he just fucked someone to death and liked it.
And then—he smiles. Like he’s happy to see you. “Problem’s solved.” His voice is low. Calm. Like it always is.
You don’t respond. You can’t. He steps further in. Leaves footprints.
Wet ones.
You blink once, eyes locked on the dark red trail behind him. His chest rises and falls slowly—like he took a walk, not carved someone apart.
“Are you okay?” he asks, head tilting slightly.
You still can’t speak. He looks down at his hands. Then shrugs, almost sheepishly. “I got a little carried away.”
You’re still sitting there. One of his shirts falling off your shoulder. Legs bare. Your skin still smells like sex and sweat and him.
But everything in your body is screaming something different now. He walks closer. You flinch. He notices. Freezes. A long, too-long pause. And then his smile softens just slightly. His eyes drop to the hem of his blood-streaked jacket.
“I’ll shower,” he says, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “Don’t worry.”
He turns toward the bathroom, footsteps still wet. You don’t say a word. Because for the first time since you met him—you’re not turned on.
You’re not amused. You’re not even confused.
You’re scared.
Your pulse is thudding too hard in your throat.
And it hits you. All at once.
Not just a psycho. Not just obsessed. Not just dangerous.
Your boyfriend Suguru is really nonchalant when asking if you’d like to fuck his best friend, Satoru.
Obviously, you look up at him with an appalled grimace – a look of serious shock and animated disgust – before you snort out, “What kinda joke is that?”
He keeps on just as casually as before – stroking his fingers up and down your bare arm where you lie halfway against his chest, tucked close in the nook of his body. “I wouldn’t mind.” He says – blank eyes kept staring at his laptop as though he was actually paying attention to the sitcom the two of you were no longer watching.
Your grimace drops to a frown, sitting up and raising a brow at him. “You wouldn't mind if I cheated on you with your best friend?”
You ask it rhetorically, but he doesn’t take it as such. Arguing against it, “It’s not cheating if I allow it.”
It makes you go quiet, pouting now. Looking at him while trying to decipher his game. “Do you...” You approach carefully – not sure where this is all headed. “Do you want us to?”
“Why d'you ask?”
Your grimace returns at the dumb response – now looking a little pissy.
“Why me? Why’d you ask?” This is so typical of him. Suguru just loves baiting you into admitting things you don’t want to. But this time, he's got it wrong because you have no interest in Gojo. If you did, you wouldn’t be lying in bed with his friend, now would you?
“Satoru wants to fuck you.” Suguru cuts off your inner ramble, and your grimace softens again – now just looking at him in confusion.
“What makes you say that?” You ask, and he continues pretending to watch the plot thicken on screen.
Still just as casual, saying, “‘Cause he told me.”
You gape at him, and then you scoff – folding your arms against your chest with an additional huff. “The nerve on that guy, honestly.”
“So you don’t want to fuck him?” Suguru’s eyes finally slide off to glance at you, waiting for your reaction.
You return his gaze, and then you smile. "Oh, Suguru~" You hum in a sultry murmur.
Lifting the laptop, you set it aside softly on the bedside table, freeing up room on his lap for you to crawl on top.
He accepts the advance smoothly, placing his hands on your hips as you lean in to kiss him with that same smile – moaning into your mouth with a rugged shudder when your hand dives beneath the band of his sweats.
“All I want...” You whisper while taking him in your palm, giving him a light squeeze and a gentle tug before feeling it grow fat and warm under your touch. “Is to make you happy.”
A couple of days later, you come by only for Gojo to be there as well.
You're confused at first, but Suguru acts as though it was all something the three of you had planned – and so does his white-heard friend, who’s standing by his side with a wide grin on his face – halfway hidden behind the same unnerving blindfold as always.
And you don’t know how you all wind up there...
But the three of you are in the bedroom not long after.
Suguru is sitting in an armchair just next to the bed you’re kneeling on – while Gojo kneels parallel to you.
“Uhm... I don't know about this...” You say reluctantly, folding your arms in front of your body while looking to Suguru – anything to avoid eye contact with the half-naked guy sitting before you.
You had all stripped down to just underwear under your boyfriend’s command – but contrary to you, they'd been neither shocked, embarrassed, or uncomfortable with it.
Suguru gives you a gentle smile. “You said you wanted to make me happy.” His eyes are calm and suave, like always. “This would make me very happy.”
You look at him for a while, trying to find comfort for the anxious furl between your brows – then you glance at the other boy, but your eyes don’t even reach his before you immediately look away again – back to Suguru.
You swallow the dryness in your throat.
“I’m sorry, but... I don't understand this...” You whisper under your breath as though you wanted the conversation to be private – between just the two of you, despite the third member whose knees brushed yours. “Help me understand.”
“It’s simple.” Said third member interrupted, calling your gaze to his piercing blue one. “You’re his girlfriend, and I’m his best friend – we’re his two favorite people in the world. He just wants to see us get along…” He leans closer until his breath wafts across your face. “Can you do that?”
You dismiss his advance with a turn of your head, looking back at your boyfriend again. “Are you sure about this?”
He just gives you a secure smile in return. “I’m sure.”
And with the last reassurance, Gojo’s hands slide up your thighs, making you gasp. “You heard him.” He finalizes. And you, caught by surprise from the sudden contact, whip your head back to look at him with wide eyes only for his lips to meet yours.
You make a sound, then an additional louder one as he pushes his tongue inside along yours – quickly followed by him shuffling closer. With his hands grabbing your hips, he pulls you around his torso, making you fall back until you hit the bed flat.
You don’t know how you’re supposed to enjoy this – letting your boyfriend's best friend kiss and touch your body while he just sits still and watches the two of you in silence.
You try looking at him to see if he’s still as unshaken, but Gojo’s quick – much more aggressive than Suguru usually is.
The wetness of Gojo's tongue playing with yours makes your head so hot – chest pounding so fast you fear it might just bleed out in your chest. But he has no mercy, wasting no time – hooking your legs up around his hips before slipping his hand between them.
You felt something snap in your mind when he fingered the hem of your panties, or maybe it was your heart skipping a beat – either way – you broke the kiss off with a shove to his chest. Panting out, “No, stop-”
You prop yourself up and shuffle out from under his progressive touches. Breaths hitched as you wiped your mouth dry from his spit.
“I’m sorry, Suguru – I can’t do this...”
Feeling flushed, you were riddled with goosebumps from head to toe – still denying those searing bright blues you felt stare you through. Tucking your legs close to your chest, you wrapped your arms around them – waiting for any sort of consolation, any words to tell you it was okay, that it was a silly idea to begin with, that you absolutely don’t have to do anything you're not comfortable doing.
But nothing of the sort ever comes...
Instead, after a silence, your boyfriend’s hand reaches out to brush something along your leg.
You peek up – watery eyes blinking once, then twice to focus, until seeing the thing held in his hand.
“How ‘bout you wear this and pretend he’s me?” He proposes smoothly, still with a gentle smile shaping his face.
It’s Gojo’s blindfold.
“Would that make you feel better?”
You hesitate, sinking your teeth into your lip.
It takes a moment, but eventually, you give an ever so timid, “Okay...”
And again, you don’t know how the three of you get there… but not long after, you’re seated on Gojo’s lap with his fat cock nestled deep inside you, being bounced on him like a toy doll.
“Suguru~” You moan – but he's not the one who's gruffing out hot and heavy breaths against your neck while sucking fresh lovebites on top of the ones left there by your actual boyfriend a couple of days before.
“You’re real’ loyal – cryin’ out his name with my dick inside yah-” Gojo groans, squeezing your tits in both hands, tweaking your nipples until you whine out again, same name on your lips. “Aw, c’mon – won’t you cry like that fo’me too~”
Your legs are propped up on Suguru’s broad back. You can’t see him through the blindfold, but you recognize that tongue – laving at your clit with kitten licks and suckling kisses while Gojo pumps his full length inside you on every thrust.
“C’mon, you’ gon’ make me beg for it?” Gojo catches your mouth, making you share each other’s breath while sloppily feeding you his tongue. “C’mon, say my name~ it’s not that different – should roll just as easily off your tongue~”
He picks up the pace along with his pleas, punching your insides to mush – making you twist where you lie sweaty against his chest.
Hot air hits your slit with words from a tongue licking all the right nerves. “Go on, baby~ moan for him like you moan fo’me~”
It makes you shudder, feeling so hot and so awfully good – your feel a guilt telling you to deny it, but it’s simply unbearable. “Oh-fuck – Satoru~”
“Yes-yes-yes~” He chants at your ear, licking the shell of it while he slips off your blindfold to let you watch Suguru lick your clit like a puppy – his own cock kept lonely between his legs, leaking out onto the sheets – edged and red from the toll of it.
The sight makes you feel some type of way.
“Oh fuck – don't squeeze so tight, I’m gonna cum-” Gojo whines, holding you tighter while sinking in deep.
“Ew, no – pull out, pull out-” You protest, shaking your head while trying to wiggle out of the tight hug he's got you trapped in.
“No – I'll clean it out-” Comes an additional plea from beneath you. Suguru kisses the belly bulge made by Gojo’s fat cock, then licks a strip from the weight of his balls up to where he has your hole stretched around his girth, mouthing at it in moans while his nose rubs your clit. “Please, princess, let him cum inside~”
Both you and Gojo swallow thickly, panting in unison.
“How can you say no to that?” He asks against your ear.
Your thighs shake while you whine, “Ugh~ fine – but someone’s buying a pill.”
Suguru only hums, laying his tongue flat against your clit again, knowing exactly what to do to time your orgasm with the flood of cum that soon splurged your insides with creamy white.
Gojo grunts with the release, and you quake, milking it out of him until he winces from the overstimulation – sloshing out while heaving for air.
You sigh, but before you can come all the way down, Suguru’s filling the vacancy with himself – making you suck it up again as he bullies his way inside in a series of quick-timed pumps before he's filling you up with his own thick mess.
He takes your face and kisses you despite you both being too breathless to sustain it for long, left to huff short puffs of air on one another’s wet lips.
He rests his forehead on yours until your pussy’s squeezed him free of the last drop, then swallows thickly.
There's a grating chuckle. “Don’t know if a pill’s gonna help...”
“hm?” suguru lifts his head, his bangs dropping to the side of his cheeks. “can you pass me a pen-“ “wait did you just call me princess?” he knits his eyebrows together.
you nod “but can you—“ “say it again” you avert your eyes for a moment and press your lips together “why?” he just stares at you, waiting.
you sigh in defeat. “can you please pass me a pencil, princess?”
“of course baby, just one more time.” you have a strong feeling this nickname will come back to haunt you.
ps. hopefully this fills you guys while i slowly but surely work on my sukuna one shot😭
warning(s) - profanity, groping, ass smacking, slight fingering, exhibitionism, nipple/breast play, kissing, pet names (baby, pretty girl, good girl), praise kink. 18+ only, minors & men dni.
Your sweet, beautiful girlfriend, Yuki, who spends the entire day teasing you. She started the morning off today by doing her routine like always, but instead of getting ready in the bathroom like she normally does, she decided it was best to give you a little show. Standing in front of the edge of the bed, Yuki drops her towel, her pink nipples hard and deserving of kisses. Your eyes trail down to her bush, wishing you could kiss her clit till it goes swollen.
Yuki bites her bottom lip while staring at you, then she leans down to pick up her binki top. You sit there, on your side of the bed, as your mouth salivates at the sight while Yuki ties her top. Her boobs are pushed up now, while some of her hair lies on her cleavage.
She looks at you again and smiles, a soft shade of pink dusting her cheeks as she giggles. “You gonna sit there all day or get ready, pretty girl?”
You clear your throat and cough a little before speaking up. “Yeah,” you sigh, “It’s just us going right?” Yuki nods and turns around, bending in front of you as she picks up her binki bottom and shorts. “Yeah, just us.” She replies and looks back at you, seeing the drool accidentally spill out. Just the way she loves it.
It’s so mean, and she knows it. You tried to think nothing of it when you started getting ready.
Yuki, on the other hand, giggles to herself, knowing you’re going to struggle the entire day. First it was her hand on your hips as you brushed your teeth, and each time you leaned down to spit, Yuki would smack your ass and grip it. Then her left hand would drag down your spine as her lips would follow.
When driving to the beach, she would rest her hand on your thigh, leaving it there for a while to trick you into thinking it was nothing.
Yuki slowly dragged her hand up to your stomach and up to your right breast; her fingers would grip your boob and begin massaging it.
You whimpered and looked to the window, hating the way Yuki had that stupid smirk plastered on her face. “There’s my good girl.” She rasps. You let her touch you, feeling the way her fingers move back down on your shirt and to your shorts. Unbuttoning it easily, she leaves her hand resting on your crotch, not even bothering to push your bikini bottom against your shorts to actually feel your clit.
Making it to the beach, you could’ve sworn Yuki would be done with whatever she was doing. She teased you enough in the car to the point she pulled moans from you, all because she rubbed your nipples and called you her baby.
As the two of you set up at the area you found, you watch the way Yuki flexes her biceps for you, grabbing the attention of other women. She doesn’t pay them any attention because yours is the only important one, and it keeps going. “Come on baby, let me give you a massage, you’ve been doing so much recently.” She begs; you can see the twinkle in her eyes, but you listen, because she is right, you’ve been doing a lot nowadays.
Yuki sits on the towel, legs stretched out and open for you to sit in between. “You’re not sneaky.” You comment, Yuki smiles, and bites her bottom lip as she watches you take your top off and shorts off, putting them on the side before sitting down and pressing your back against her chest.
“I’m not even doing anything?” She mutters, and you hum. Yuki then picks up the bottle of sunscreen and pours some in her hand. You shut your eyes and lick your lips as the sounds of waves crashing and people interacting make you calm.
Yuki starts with rubbing your right arm, the warmth of the sunscreen and her hands mix. You sigh, then hum, “Oh baby, that feels so good.” You whisper, she smirks and bites her bottom lip as her pussy pulsates to your words. “Such a good girl, letting me make you feel better.” Yuki praises, you squirm as she leans down and feels her lips pucker against your cheek. Her thumb pushes into your skin as she pecks your skin, lips all down to your neck before switching to the left side like her hands.
“Feels good?” Yuki mumbles between kisses, you nod and whine, “Yeah, fuck, your hands feel good, baby.” She giggles and looks forward while whispering, “Careful, we’re in public.”
Yuki’s hands then travel up both sides of your shoulders and slide to your breasts, under your bikini top. Your eyes widen as you look around to make sure no one is watching. “Yuki!” You whisper-yell, earning another laugh from her. “Relax, I got you.” Then she swipes her thumb over your nipples, your back arches a little, and Yuki leans closer to you, making sure your skin sticks to hers.
“Yuki, what— hmm.” Cutting you off by leaning down and lapping her tongue against your shoulder blade before sucking on it slowly, you push your body into hers and sigh. “I hate you.” You mumble. Yuki chuckles and pulls her lips away. “Likewise.”
She doesn’t give you a chance to breathe, moving her hands down to your stomach and down to the middle of your crotch. You try to shut your legs, but Yuki’s left and right legs hook over your thighs, forcing you to keep them open as she rubs your folds over the cloth. You moan softly and rock your hips up to feel her better. “There she is.” Yuki coos, her lips brushing against your left ear as her index and middle finger tease over your folds and push your bikini in your pulsing hole a little.
“What do you need, pretty girl? Tell me what you need.” She lets out a moan with you, her eyes looking everywhere to keep you safe.
You press the back of your head against her shoulder and sigh. Opening your eyes, you stare up at the clouds. “Think we should go back to the car.” Yuki laughs at your request and nods. “And when we get back, what do you want? I can’t read your mind, baby.” She reminds you, and you tilt your head to look at her a little. “For you to stop teasing me and fuck me in the backseat.” You whisper and catch her earlobe between your teeth before letting go.
Yuki looks at you once you push her off and stand up. You lean forward in front of her, your ass in her face as you pick up your clothes. You stand straight and look down at her as you brush the sand off your clothes.
“Come on, we don’t have all day.” You state and pick your things up.
Yuki stares at you, stunned for a moment, and immediately stands up and helps you pack the stuff up. Trailing behind you like a lost puppy after having you be a puddle in her hands.
i really had this in my drafts collecting dust, what i am i doing. art made by cheeseboy382 on tumblr. also, yuki listens to young miko, that’s my other headcanon. alternative title: loser gets wet from feeling wanted by girlfriend.
also a like, comment, and reblogs are extremely appreciated. please support your writers. we like to know how you feel as readers. your support pushes us to continue writing!! so thank you to those who have been supporting me, it means a lot!!
When you turn eighteen, your aunt Yuki invites you for dinner at her home. She's always been nice to you, buying you clothes and helping you with love problems. She also was the first person you came out to, for you Yuki has been an important part of your family.
You sit across from her at the small dining table, the warm glow of the candles she lit making everything feel softer and more intimate. Aunt Yuki had made your favorite pasta with that creamy sauce she knows you love, and she’d even poured you a small glass of wine to celebrate you becoming an adult. She looks stunning tonight in a silky black top that hugs her curves and shows just enough cleavage to make your eyes keep drifting down.
“You know, I still can’t believe it,” she says, resting her chin on her hand and smiling at you. Her foot brushes against your leg under the table, lingering there. “My little niece is all grown up. You’ve filled out so nicely, sweetheart. Those hips, that chest... mmh, you’re turning into such a tempting young woman.”
You feel your face heat up as you take a sip of wine. She doesn’t stop there. Yuki leans forward a little, her voice dropping into something warmer, almost husky. “I remember when you were just a shy kid asking me for advice about crushes. Now here you are, sitting in my dining room looking like you could make anyone weak. I bet the girls at school can’t keep their eyes off you.” She winks, her smile turning a bit naughty. “But between us, I think you’d look so cute underneath someone who actually knows what they’re doing.”
She reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, letting her fingers trail down your neck for just a second too long. “You’ve grown into such a beautiful, sexy girl. It makes me a little jealous of whoever gets to touch you first.” Her eyes sparkle with a perverted edge as she bites her lower lip. “Tell me something, honey... are you still a virgin?”
Your heart jumps. You nod slowly, whispering, “Uh, yes.”
Yuki’s smile deepens, something hungry and affectionate mixing in her gaze. She stands up and walks around the table, offering you her hand. “Come here, pretty girl. Auntie wants to make sure your first time is with someone who really cares about you.” Her fingers lace with yours as she gently pulls you up. “Let me take care of you tonight. Would you like that?”
You say yes, voice small but excited. She leans in close, her breath warm against your ear. “Good girl. Let’s go to my room then. I promise I’ll be gentle.” She gives your hand a squeeze and leads you down the hallway, her hips swaying just enough to keep your eyes glued to her.
You’re already on your back on her soft bed, shirt gone and bra unhooked, when Aunt Yuki kisses you, her tongue sliding against yours like she’s starving for you. Her hand trails down your stomach, slow and teasing, until her fingers slip under the waistband of your panties.
“God, you’re soaked already,” she whispers against your lips, voice thick with lust. She tugs your panties down your legs and tosses them aside. “Look at this pretty little pussy, all mine tonight.”
You whimper when her fingers finally touch you, sliding through your wet folds. She circles your clit gently at first, but her eyes are dark and hungry. “So sensitive… I love how you twitch for me, baby.”
Two fingers press inside you without warning. You gasp and grab her wrist. “Yuki… slower, please… it’s too much!”
But she just moans softly and pushes deeper, curling her fingers against that spot that makes your hips jerk. “Shh, I know, sweetheart. But you feel so fucking good inside, I can’t stop touching you.” She starts pumping her fingers in and out, steady and greedy, her thumb rubbing your clit at the same time.
You whine loudly, legs shaking as you try to close them. “Auntie… please… go slower, I can’t— ahh!” Your voice breaks into another pathetic whimper. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes from how intense it feels.
Yuki leans down and kisses your neck, then your breasts, sucking on one nipple while her fingers keep working on you. “You’re such a cute little mess,” she purrs, clearly loving every sound you make. “Whining and squirming like that… it’s making me so wet. I’ve wanted to play with this virgin pussy for so long.”
She adds a third finger, stretching you more and you cry out, back arching off the bed. “Too fast! Yuki, please… I’m gonna— I’m—”
“You’re gonna cum?” she finishes for you, voice dripping with filthy excitement. She speeds up, fingers thrusting harder, wet sounds filling the room. “That’s it, baby. Let Auntie see you fall apart. I can’t get enough of you like this. Look how your pussy is sucking my fingers in… so greedy.”
You’re a total wreck, moaning and whimpering, hips bucking against her hand even as you beg her to slow down. “Slower… Auntie, I’m too sensitive… please…”
But she doesn’t slow down, she fucks you harder with her fingers, eyes locked on your face like she’s addicted to watching you lose control. “I love when you whine my name. You sound so fucking cute when you’re desperate.” She kisses you messily, swallowing your cries as the pleasure builds higher and higher.
Your whole body starts trembling. “I’m cumming… Auntie, I’m— mmmm!”
“That’s my good girl,” she groans, curling her fingers just right. “Cum for me. Let me feel it.”
The orgasm crashes over you hard. You sob and shake, thighs clamping around her hand as you gush around her fingers. Even after you come down, she doesn’t pull her fingers out right away. She just watches you with a perverted little smile, slowly pumping them again. “We’re not done yet, pretty girl. I still haven’t had my fill of you.”
You’re still panting and twitching from your orgasm when Aunt Yuki pulls her fingers out slowly, bringing them to her lips to lick them clean with a filthy moan. “Mmm, you taste even better than I imagined, baby.”
She doesn’t give you much time to recover. With strong but gentle hands she flips you onto your side and slides one of her legs between yours, pulling your hips close until your wet pussies press together. The first hot, slippery contact makes you gasp sharply.
“Oh fuck… Auntie!” you whimper.
She grips your thigh tightly, lining your clit right against hers and starts moving. Slow at first, grinding in smooth circles, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. Her breathing gets heavier, eyes dark with lust as she looks down at where your bodies meet.
“God, your little pussy feels so good against mine,” she groans. Then she starts thrusting harder, faster, slamming her hips against you in wet strokes. The sound of your soaked pussies rubbing together fills the room, loud and obscene.
You cry out instantly, a loud broken moan spilling from your lips. “Ahh! Yuki— it’s too much!”
She goes harder, grinding fast and rough, her swollen clit rubbing perfectly against yours with every snap of her hips. “That’s it, moan louder for me, sweetheart. Let Auntie hear how much you love this.”
Your head falls back against the pillows as you gasp and whine helplessly. “Slower… please… I can’t— oh my god!” Another loud moan rips out of you when she angles her hips just right and grinds down hard. Your hands clutch at her waist, nails digging in, but your body keeps rocking back against her, chasing the overwhelming pleasure.
Yuki is panting, sweat starting to shine on her skin as she fucks you harder. “You’re such a whiny little mess and it’s driving me crazy. Listen to how loud you’re getting… fuck, I can’t get enough of you.” She reaches down and spreads your pussy open more with her fingers so your clits rub even more directly, making you scream.
“Auntie! Ahh— ahh! It feels too good!” you sob, voice cracking into high-pitched whimpers every time she slams against you. Your legs shake uncontrollably, one wrapped around her waist as she keeps pounding her pussy into yours.
She leans down, biting your neck while she grinds harder. “Cum on my pussy, baby. I want to feel you soaking me.”
You’re a complete wreck beneath her, moaning loud and shameless, gasping for air between desperate whines. Every fast slap of her hips sends sparks shooting through your whole body. You can’t even form real words anymore, just broken cries of her name and pathetic little pleas that only seem to make her go faster.
Yuki’s own moans are getting louder too, mixing with yours as she chases her pleasure, using your body exactly how she wants. “That’s my good girl… keep moaning just like that. We’re not stopping until this pretty pussy cums all over me.”
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