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lil-sweater-slut · 2 months ago

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Heavy Metal Lover - G.S.

Synopsis. A group project with your tall, nerdy, hot academic rival and your handsome punk best friend? Oh, you’re getting a D++

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader x Geto Suguru

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, nerd!Geto, punk!bestfriend!Geto, thréesome, mmf, they go FÉRAL, dúmbification, Geto with tattoos and piercings, Jacob’s Ladder (iykyk), oraI (fem. rec.), all sIoppy type, yearning Geto, fíngering, spítting, p talking, manhandIing, dp, SAME DAMN TIME, creampíes, cúmplay, BIG stretches, size k!nks, rough s, marathons, overstím, PÚSSYDRÚNK GOJO, squírting, making him cúm dry, jock!Sukuna cameo, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 11.4k

A/N. TWO!! Because heh- daddy Tony just turned the big 2-0!!

“You won’t believe how big it was.”

“…”

“Satoru’s audacity, I mean.” Leaning over the cluttered café table, you’re cupping your mouth with one hand, whispering oh-so-conspiratorially to your best friend. “And his d-”

“Alright.” Geto cuts through your astute observation, making an observation of his own that the elderly lady seated beside you two had promptly turned off her hearing aids. “So you really didn’t get any studying done during this ‘study session’, huh?”

Waving your hands airily, “It’s not that we didn’t try, it’s just…” The glinting snake bites on Geto’s lips curl at the sinful sight of those teeth marks down the side of your neck, the way your thighs still quivered in broad daylight. Still.

He already knew that there was something more between you and your ‘cocky, book-hugging, jerkwad’ academic rival. He saw the way Gojo looked at you. And he saw the way you looked back.

Somewhere down the line it made Geto tighten in his pants.

He’s flitting a wide-eyed glance between his thighs, fuck, then at the thick smoothie in his hands- was there something they put in this or what?

No, he’s subtly shaking his head. It’s just not everyday that you hear about your best friend finally hooking up with the very same man she’d been complaining about ever since first meeting him. It was a long time coming - the entire campus knew at this point. Hell, he’d even distantly heard about a few betting pools to see who’d crack first (okay, maybe he betted in them, too- but only twice!)

So Geto was simply happy for you. Really.

After all, he’d been right by your side through every argument, every middle finger, every war for top spot on the Dean’s List until that tall, gloomy nerd had completely n’ utterly fucked you.

And here you were, telling him all about it.

Never having been more thankful for that obnoxiously frilly tablecloth covering his legs, Geto coughs away the slight hitch in his breath. “Was it good, pipsqueak?”

A slightly dreamy look wafts across your face, and with the way that his length twitches in interest, he’s pushing away his smoothie completely now. Unable to take any chances of it somehow being spiked.

You sigh, “Hate to admit it, but yeah.”

“Nerdy fuckin’ Gojo made you cum?”

“Multiple times.”

Another jolt, another squeeze of his meaty thighs.

He darts his darkening eyes away from the expression on your beautiful face. What he’d give to make you look like that, too- no. No, he can’t. “Ah, s-so- you two’ve fucked away the tension now, or what?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say fucked away.” You’re humming idly, “He did argue with me while he was inside of me.” At the strange, strangled squawk that leaves Geto’s mouth- “I know right?”

He’s crossing and uncrossing his legs, throat dry. Sharply glancing downwards once more, “Like- dirty talk?”

And you’re completely oblivious to the way that you’re absolutely ruining him, Geto latching onto every syllable that slips out of your pretty lips like he’s breathing them in. Goddammit, he was feeling so…“Hmm—sure, but just arguing, too. Would you believe it if I told you he tried to pick a fight even after I made him cum dry?”

“C-cum dry.” The usually-deep baritone of Geto’s voice breaks as he echoes the end of your sentence, fingerpads tapping impatiently on the top of the table. Stop talking. Stop thinking. “You can do that?”

“Heh- yeah.” Fuck. You’re smirking, “Why? Jealou-”

“No.”

It comes out much more urgently than he would have liked - much more panicked - and just before you can suspect anything, he’s tugging on the ragged texture of his baggy, ripped jeans. “A-anyways, did you hear about Yaga’s-”

“Sugu, are you okay?” Oh, too late. Before he can stop you, you’re reaching over one of your palms to cover the expanse of his forehead. Feeling for his temperature, “You’re a little…hot.”

“Mm– I’m always hot, gorgeous.” Trying for his usual nonchalance, but if the way you knit your brows is anything to go by, then you’re not buying his act one bit.

“Is it strange that I slept with Gojo? I mean, I know I’ve been hating him all this time but-”

He clasps his much-larger hand over yours, blunt nails chipped with dark polish. “No no. Don’t worry about it.” With a smile, Geto stretches his long legs underneath the table to tangle them with yours. Heat against heat. Swelling cock against his pants. Tongue snagging on the silver of his snake bites.

The scorching blush that simmers across his cheeks is almost startling as he pushes away the bangs from his face - so pretty, you had to admit. Such a brash, tattooed style to him that drove nearly every woman, man, and anything in between wild any time his looming figure sauntered through campus.

Winking his eyeliner-smudged lids, “In fact-”

Ah, well, if you can’t beat them…

“-tell me more.”

Join ‘em.

Geto’s sure the poor ol’ lady next to you faints.

“Fuck-” He’s whispering, cooped up in his dark apartment not even an hour after parting ways with you at the café. Apparently you’d left for a totally-not-date with Gojo- and Geto?

Oh, Geto had one hand wrapped around his aching cock to pump until his wrist ached.

Groaning at the squelch of his thumb smearing down the crown of his reddened shaft, he’s plugging up his bawling divot. Other hand reaching over to shuffle inside his bedside cabinet, “C’mon, where- where is- ah.”

There it was.

Geto’s fingers plunge out from the depths of the drawer, all wrapped up in the strappy lace of a pair of pretty pink panties. Your panties.

Ones you’d accidentally left after a sleepover - and really, you’d stolen more than enough of his Green Day t-shirts that he didn’t exactly feel bad about stealing them away.

About hastily plucking that cutesy underwear up and pushing it against his face, he’s rolling his glassy eyes back and sniiiiffing the sweet, sweet scent of you. That smell he couldn’t get enough of. So close and yet, so far.

“Sh-shit.” Geto’s heavy shaft grows even harder in his hand, and he didn’t even think that was possible. Sinking the fringes of his teeth into his bottom lip, he wraps the ribbony fabric ‘round his erection, “Oh, shouldn’t do this- r-really shouldn’t do this.”

But he can’t stop. Not when he’s fucking the plush comfort of his palm in repeated, sloppy strokes- and not even when Geto hears the bzzzt–! of his phone vibrating from that very same bedside cabinet.

Breath catching as he turns his head to blearily stare at the flashing screen - Pipsqueak. You.

Ah…without a second thought, Geto grabs his phone with one hand, the other still tugging on the veiny shaft of his cock. Unlocking it to find that you’d sent a photograph of you - and the infamous Gojo himself. Mouth downturned, flush burning.

The two of you were cramped into the frame, at the forefront of some aquarium. Innocent, surely- but Geto catches the glide of Gojo’s fingertips down the side of your waist, the way you’re leaning in just enough to let a flash of cleavage peek through.

Dilated pupils flickering between the two figures, he finds his tattooed hips thrusting—“Oh. I’m fucked.”

So very, very fucked.

And after this, he had an email to write. To none other than Yaga.

“Iori and Haibara. Ieri and Ijichi.” Professor Yaga’s bored, monotone voice drones through with his usual steady pace, announcing each pairing for the upcoming assignment.

A practical project, it seemed - and you can’t help but feel your heart race once he’s thumbing down the list of names. Finally announcing yours and…“Gojo.” But before you can show even the slightest bit of euphoria, Yaga’s tugging up his thick sunglasses. Raising a thick brow, he’s turning your way.

And for a split-second, you think he’s staring you down- that is, until you follow his line of sight and find that Yaga’s staring above you. Just the row above.

Exactly where Geto was.

Eyes half-lidded, atmosphere surrounding him burning. Goosebumps prick down your spine, and you find yourself wondering what the hell was happening in this thick moment of silence.

Evidently, Gojo’s musing the same from his seat right beside you. Whispering from the side of his maw, “What the hell? I haven’t seen Yaga look like that since the last time you started an argument with me during class, miss valedictorian.”

That damned know-it-all nickname.

You’re taking a good, long look at him - neat, crisp. The way his thick-rimmed glasses framed a slight cute frown, cosied up in a cotton vest that hid his muscular figure, his sapphire eyes twinkling through pale bangs as you sneer.

“Satoru, that was your fault- and yesterday.”

“Well, it’s about to be right now.”

“You just want to be yelled at by me, perv.”

He’s opening his pouted mouth to snark back - but Yaga beats him to it. With a gruff, cutting announcement that neatly finishes off the rest of your little group, “-and Geto.” Only to turn away as if nothing ever happened, and rattle out the rest of his lengthy list.

And Geto? You’re furrowing your brows- this was meant to be a paired project, wasn’t it?

Well, not that you were unhappy to be with your best friend - it was rare that your uptight professor ever took his students’ preferences into consideration. But, according to your calculations, there wouldn’t have been any odd ones out in the student body, and Yaga had seemingly formed two trios for the sake of it.

Question on your lips, you’re turning in your seat to face Geto. Only to meet his eyes and oh-

Something about him was almost predatory. Something dangerous. Something that makes you gulp, and Gojo squeeze his fingers with yours.

Resting his face upon one of his palms, Geto purrs—“Consider this project a…science experiment, gorgeous.”

A science experiment.

Rubbing his swole n’ red cock raw to your photographs, writing an intently-worded email to Yaga with his choice for project pairings, and inviting the two of you to his apartment later - he was finally here, with his ‘science’ experiment.

With his ringed fingers toying down the patterns of his throbbing shaft veins, listening to the way that Gojo made you let off the prettiest shrill whimpers. “F-fuck, don’t be shy.”

You didn’t even know how you were here - only seconds after entering Geto’s sprawling living room before you’re somehow laid across his couch. Sprawled across Gojo’s lap, still fully clothed but being kissed stupid.

The former gazing all the while, thick thighs manspread like he was watching a show of his very own. He’d moved one of his cushy armchairs to watch dead-on as Gojo lifts his mouth off of yours with a dampened slurp just to spit between your parted lips.

Thwack! It’s gluing to the ridges of your tastebuds with a splatter, “Then you kiss me all proper, princess.” Gojo’s hissing between your swollen lips, the honed points of his canines nipping down on your maw just to get you to open wider. “Yer really embarrassing yourself in front of your best friend.”

Huffing, “I’m the- mmpf-”

Only to have your heated cavern stuffed with the expanse of his textured tongue. It’s just so sloppy how he’s kissing you, with the slimy edge of his muscle swirlin’ the insides of your maw as Geto snickers.

Unhinging your jaw open, you manage to muffle out. “I’m the one embarrassing myself?” The flat of your palm caresses vertically down the front of his cotton vest. All smart and sensible. Moving it down his bumpy pecs, then only further down his abs, down, down-

Before clinging your greedy fingerpads onto the large, cylindrical length of his erection. All looong and hard, it’s laid out the side of his meaty right leg. “Who’s the one that’s rock fuckin’ hard already?”

“F-fuck.” He’s gasping into your touch, and through his linen pants you can feel the bulge of his cock twitch. Flinching needily enough that the syrupy puddle forming between his thighs starts to grow even sappier, “And whose fault is that~?‘

“Mmm– mine.”

“Heh, so you know how to take accountability?”

Vulgarly, the edges of your fingers twitch into a squeeze over the outline of his cock - so thick that your hand struggles to properly close around him. “Only for this.”

“You little-”

“So you two seriously argue during sex, too?” Geto’s husky voice breaks through, and you’re both snapping your head over to see the way his head tilts. The way he lurches his hips slightly off of his seat with a buck, fingers dragging down his veiny cock. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

Noticing the silky scrap of fabric that sticks out from the gaps of his fingers, you’re whining at the sight of those familiar panties you’d lost months ago. “Suguru—”

“You can make those sounds for him, too?” Gojo snarls, rutting you up on his v-line so that your dazed head lolls back towards him. Swatting a hand down on the side of your ass cheek, he’s lifting your thin skirt enough to give Geto just a peek of your panties.

Possessive. Feral.

Something primal slips into Gojo’s throat as he toys with the wiry strings of your underwear, where he’s sure Geto can watch. “M’shocked we’re not fighting even more, miss valedictorian.”

“Sh-shut up.”

With a gasp, you’re pushin’ your sultry hips further down onto his. Grinding so that the slope of your slit presses through your panties and onto his fattened cock, just so wet that it leaves a glistening snail-trail between Gojo’s thighs.

“Mmm—” Geto departs with a chuckle, hands pumping even faster on the veiny, gleaming length of his cock until it was almost just a pinkish blur. He’s milking himself with a grunt at each lecherous interaction, “Keep going, gorgeous. Just like that.”

Shyly, you shift your restless hips, “B-but, Sugu…”

“Ohhh I like that.” Geto juts his chin up, nudging the rough fabric of his pants down to free a few more solid inches even more. “Say that again, pipsqueak.”

“S-Sug-”

“Nuh uh.” But before you know it, Gojo has a hand smushing your cheeks together into such a pathetic pout. Staring back down at him- “You’re going to say ‘Toru.’”

Geto muses, “Sugu.”

“Toru.”

“Sugu-”

“To-”

“P-please.” Your wailing cries cut through the slight battle, impatiently humping the plane of Gojo’s clothed pelvis at a pace that damn near reaches a fever-point. “Just want something- anything.” Head throwing back, babbling, oh-so-pretty that Geto puffs out a low hum, and tucks your soaked panties away.

“Then c’mere, gorgeous.”

Gojo interrupts, “What?”

“I said…” The tattooed man plows on, lips twitching even further into a grin once you’re standing up on wobbly legs. The flesh of your thighs squeezing together with each step, “-come here. You too, nerd.”

Oh.

And you can’t even remember the treacherous trek you take to clamor up onto Geto’s widespread thighs, he’s just so big n’ beefy that it takes you a few tries to properly straddle his toned hips. Grappling your two hands on top of his round deltoids, “L-like this, Suguru?”

“Atta girl, there you go.” Perking you up further- he takes a second to admire you. To memorize you. To take in every heady pant of yours and each dry hump of your cunt.

Before tugging a girthy finger upon the sides of your current panties and teeearing straight through them. Skirt next to follow.

Gojo can only watch in utter awe as he’s bared to your pretty, sopping pussy from behind- fuck, he’s never going to get used to this. Joints weakening, mouth parched, his towering frame falls to his knees at merely the sight.

“Pussy got your tongue, Toru?” You’re tittering once Gojo’s only saddling up behind you on the carpet, glasses now level with your slick-glazed lips. Close.

“Well, he will have your pussy, pipsqueak.” Geto’s piping up from underneath you, sliding further down the armchair so that Gojo’s nose sticks to the outer part of your sheeny cunt. “But where do you want me? Here?” Groping your ass, “Orrrr here?” Your thighs. “Or-”

“No teasing, Suguru.”

“Oh, gorgeous, I could go allll fucking day without…” One of his rings shaped into a gothic skull traces your cunt, “-dessert.”

Gojo scoffs, “Well, I’m fucking starved-”

Geto grins, “And I wanna kiss these lips first.”

“O-oh mm–” It was just maddening- the very nanosecond that Gojo’s hearing he’ll be having your sweet, honeyed pussy all to himself, he’s plastering his mouth to your folds.

Stirring the curvy edge of his tongue instantly past your soppy entrance, puckering you up for a saccharine kiss. Latching his glossy lips down to the swollen fringe of your pussylips, he throws his head back and grins. “Nothing smart to say now, miss hah- valedictorian?”

“Now now, of course, she doesn’t.” And it’s the very moment that Geto’s mouth kisses your own that you’re realizing he didn’t have just snake bites - he’d hidden away a frigid, metallic tongue piercing.

That slick spheroid wafting between your lips, Geto’s drinking you in like he’s a man parched. And every cute bubble of spit spilling from your mouth was the first droplet of water he’s had in eons. Feeling his smug grin across your lips, “Not when she’s kissing me, of course.”

“Tch- as if.” Gojo spits- literally, a great, glittery wad of spittle that thrashes past your quivering hole. Salivating his tongue to push juuuust inside, just teasing the tight ring of your cunt with his velvety tongue. “S’because of me. Her vaginal introitus is just drooling.”

And oh- Gojo’s tongue is just so flexible. Swabbing the tender orifices of your sleek cunt with his pointed tip, he bullies a few inches past your entrance and makes you whine. “P-please- ngh more, Satoru. F-fuck me like you mean it.”

Snickering, Gojo only swats the right side of your ass cheek, gripping it to haul your wildly bucking body further against his face. Until his chin hits your treacly cunt, until his nostrils can’t even breathe-

“Aw, nothing f’me?” Geto coos, and while you’re all jostling and thrashing, one of his ringed hands plummet down the side of your body. Pryin’ apart your slick-glued folds to press his knobbled index on top of your clit like a button. “You’re my best friend. What if I wan’ a taste, too?”

Your breath hitches by the time he’s glazing his finger across your creamy pussy already, covering it with just enough layers of your juices. Just enough to hover up into his mouth and suck.

Gasping, “But you’re already…”

“S’not enough.” And while Gojo slips n’ slides his flattened tongue between your pussylips, Geto puckers his maw up to yours. Hazy amethyst irises only half-opened, mouth quirking just at the ends. “Spit.”

It happens all at once- you’re spitting inside Geto’s mouth and he moans at the taste of you, never one to be forgotten, Gojo splats out saliva on your cunt and forces his impaling tongue inside.

“Oh, your bartholin glands are just sopping all over me, so much- ngh- leukorrhea.” Babbling away, Gojo’s letting out such noisy smacks each time he flops his tongue out to flick your shaky hole. Harder. Deeper.

He’s eating you out like he’s addicted to it, the long length of his pale lashes fluttering every time the sharpness of his jawline pushes against your slam-contacted flesh until he can’t push himself even further.

Until the rim of his spectacles coldly swats your pussy and makes him stutter, “W-wonder if I can reach the ngh- Gräfenberg spot like this…” Tugging you back with trembling hands, the thickness of his tongue probes even deeper against your walls. “More- if only I can-”

“You’re never reaching it like that, nerd.” Geto rolls his eyes, back to slithering his right hand down and cupping your pussy.

He snickers each time he’s feeling the silky crowns of his fingerpads brush against Gojo’s thrashing tongue. Toying with the other man, he’s covering the nub of your pulsing clit each n’ every time, just so that Geto can be the one to give it a good, long pinch.

It’s just so cute how you buck into him with a hollow gasp, “Wh-what did I say about teasing, Sugu–”

“Just can’t help it, pipsqueak.” Your best friend purrs, snagging the sharpened ends of his snake bites against your lips. Bouncing his meaty thighs, running your cunt ragged with each rough drag down his loose, ripped jeans.

Once. Twice. Again and again- until Gojo’s clawing a hand on the side of your glissading hips to stop your slobbering cunt from darting too far away from him. You squeal, “W-wait, ohh ngh- Satoru, m’not gonna last like this–”

The dual stimulation was just rendering you stupid, twitching on top of Geto’s lap each time he’s scraping your pussy down to ride his tattooed thighs. Every bounce leaves you recoiling right back into Gojo’s mouth, mouth watering at the rovering push of his tongue entering you. And out. In and out-

“Good.” Thwack! Spanking one of his emblem rings down on your clit, “Because I think m’getting impatient here. I’ve been waiting for ages, after all.”

“A-ages?”

“Mhm— oh, you have noooo idea, gorgeous.” Drawling out, Geto’s driving you crazy with the twist of his hips angling you properly.

Making it just so that your pussylips spread wiiide open to ride his leg like you were pouring your sheeny slick out all over it. Just so that Gojo’s angular tongue can sharply strike near your g-spot, just so that you’re cumming before you know it.

It runs you over in a sudden wave, and before you know it- you’re simply seeing pure white. “O-oh my god. Fuck- fuck fuck fuck, m’cumming—” Glassed irises running cartoonish circles inside the whites of your eyes with each swivel.

Head falling forwards into the crook of Geto’s neck, hips planted firmly on Gojo’s face - exactly where he wanted it.

And he’s lavishing his tongue allll over your quivering pussy, draggin’ out each spike of your high with a stretching thrust. “Oh- oh, m’fucking starved, princess. Like that, cum- cum on my ngh- tongue. My tongue.” Dilated blue eyes blinking up drunkenly, “My tongue only.”

Geto raises a dark brow, “Yours only?”

Gojo pipes up with a glistening grin, slapping away Geto’s tuggin’ fingerpads to suckle on your clit like a sweetened piece of candy. “Yeah. Too fucking late now, aren’t you?”

Chilling spheroid tongue piercing licking down your salivating lips, “You sure?”

“Positive.”

Almost in response, Gojo’s wrapping his beefy forearms back around your inner thighs. Planting your overstimulated cunt even deeper across his mouth, digging his glasses back into his straight nosebridge - it didn’t matter if Gojo would suffocate if it meant he could go out with the syrupy taste of your slick drivelling down the sides of his mouth.

But Geto only coos, looking down at the other man through his inky locks. “Don’t be like that— didn’t all your books ever teach you about sharing?”

“M’not sharing my girl’s pussy.”

“Mhm?”

It was a challenge.

And both treated it as such.

You’re being tugged ‘round in the middle like some boneless ragdoll, the hazy state of your mind spinning once Geto stands up. For a split-second.

And seats you down all prettily on the armchair he was in, with your legs splayed wiiiide open with a deafening wet squelch of your pussy. Gojo’s coral pink lips parting into a soft oh! when the other man kneels down right beside him on the ground - both of them on their knees for you.

Both of them latching onto one of your legs with pawing hands, nudging them further open to accommodate their hulking sizes. To accommodate the way that both Geto and Gojo tackle themselves down to eat your drippin’ pussy at the same time.

Again.

“H-hold on- both of you- oh, mmm, fuck.” And you can’t do anything but cling your clammy palms onto both of their heads. “I don’t know if I even can hck! cum again so soon.”

“You will, princess.”

“We’ll make sure of it.”

Gojo on your left, Geto on your right- they’re flopping out two lengthy pinkish tongues between your trembling thighs. Sloshing against each other, fighting against each other, each of their pretty features plastered upon the inner side of each leg.

And where Gojo was eager, Geto was teasing. He was mean- lining the slick slit of your cunt with looooong, tender glides. He snickers once he’s feeling the other man impatiently thrust into your hole, “Mmm–fuck! Sweeter than I ever imagined.”

“I know.” Gojo’s snowy brows knit, chin polishing with ribbons of your juices each time he nodded his head down to shove past your first tight ring of muscle. Pumping you full. Beading your every nook and cranny with a thorough probe of his tastebuds, “And she’s my hah- miss valedictorian- isn’t that right, princess?”

“Y-you’re both acting so- hck!” It’s a wonder you even could speak with how much they were ruining your damn pussy. “-ch-childish- fuck.”

Lapping up every dribbling ounce of slick you gave off, licking into every and any spot on you that they could scour. And you were so much extra aroused now, a pure translucent waterfall sticking down the fronts of their chins with every too-sensitive touch.

Hell, you’re blinking your watery eyes down to watch the way that Gojo’s thumbing apart your swollen folds just so that he could plunge his tongue inside deeper. Faster.

Sloppier.

Slipping over each other, chins knocking, greedy.

With the rawest, loudest squeeelch–! Geto lingers his piercing over your clit, taking full claim with the way he’s sucking. “She might be your ‘miss valedictorian’...” Groaning, you’re feeling his glinting canines bite down once on the nearby flesh of your thigh, and then twice on your oversensitive clit - enough to leave a slight mark. “-but she’s my pipsqueak. So if I wanna taste, m’getting it. Isn’t that riiight—?”

THWACK!

Spanking your clit just so you’re crying out-

“S’what I thought.” Geto hums.

And that’s exactly what he was doing - what they both were doing.

Two soppily wet tastebuds rubbin’ your pussy all over until you were oversensitive, and the way they’re fighting to see who occupies the most of your sweet, sweet cunt is just animal.

Gojo pushin’ his face deeper until the line of his glasses left bright red marks on his flushed face, Geto instead moving you- gluing a palm on the side of your hips and jerking you to him.

“O-oh nghhh it feels shoooo good-” You’re slurring, so stimulated that your hands wrestle for purchase on the chair’s cushion each time you’re throwing your head back and bucking up, up, up.

“Good? Good, gorgeous–?”

“Mhm—”

Cunt throbbing oh-so-badly at every slash of their tongue, the way that Geto grips a hand onto the back of Gojo’s head to guide him into your favorite spots. Nudging your earliest bundles of nerves with his probin’, thumping tastebuds.

Your breath catches with a sob within your clogged throat at the sight of Geto usin’ that tight leverage to tilt Gojo’s head ever-so-slightly so that their tongues meet each other.

Filthy oodles of saliva watering over the edge of the other man’s tongue as he moans, Geto’s grinning when he’s kissing both your sappy cunt and him. “Don’tcha even know how ta properly eat a girl out, nerd?”

“I-I do-”

“Spit.”

“What?”

“Spit.”

In a sultry split-second, your already drenched pussy is being swamped by two steady streams of saliva. Spitting. Geto’s tongue everywhere, he sucks on your perked clit while Gojo back takes over sinking his honed muscle inside your gummy walls. “Tch, s’that all you got, Suguru? You clearly don’t even know the nghh- benefits of stimulating her adventitia-”

“That’s not shit, what you’ve gotta do is- hahh-” Geto departs a sweltering hot gust of breath, letting Gojo’s curling pink tongue thrash inside your pussy while he snagged three ringed fingers on your rim and push-push-puuuushes inside. “-stretch her pretty lil’ cunt wiiiide open.”

“F-fuuck why is it so big–” You’re whining, crying. Legs hooking over both their shoulders to bring them together. The sheer scrape of Geto’s metallic rings against your sweet spots makes you see stars, “Don’t think m’gonna last long…”

“C-close, huh?” Gojo drags out through a breathy tone - and there’s something higher-pitched in his tone, something that almost sounded gone. Such a primal tinge to his tone, he’s nuzzling his nose against your clit and making such a mess.

Geto grunts, rosy lips pulling back into a snarling grin by the time he gives you one-two-three sloppy strokes. Reaching for the plush area of your g-spot “What did I say? Gotta stretch her reeeal big so she can take me-” Hitting it - hard. “-isn’t that right, pretty lady?”

He wasn’t even talking to you at this point - just your pussy. And you swear you’re feeling the pointed nib of even Gojo’s falter slightly on your clit as he speaks.

Squelch after squelch, they’re both pulling out of you when you’re only growing wetter. The tips of your toes curling inwards as you’re feeling your tummy spark near familiar bliss, “S-Sugu–!”

THWACK!

The stinging noise rings out before you’re even feeling the burning ache, the way that Geto’s firm fingerpads stick to your plump cunt in a sharp swat. Him snickering, “See?”

“You’re insane.” Gojo titters back, prattling.

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve waited for ngh- this, nerd.” Ever since he first met you that fateful orientation day, in fact. Tongue piercing tickling your clit, fighting Gojo’s tongue for purchase. “Have no- fucking- clue-”

“Don’t give a fuck-” And he didn’t - really, really didn’t. The glasses-clad man doesn’t think he could even register anything other than the streaming sap your cunt was gushing out onto his tongue, and the way your hole quivered in that way that told him you were close. Again. “Just wan’ you to cum on my t-tongue, princess.”

“Heh- you’re better like this, Toru.”

“Shut up and cum.”

Long, ivory bangs soft against the bottom of your tummy with how close he’s diving himself nose-deep. More. Gojo ruts against the cushion of the armchair, knees dragging against the carpet as he’s lunging even further- and he doesn’t even notice.

“Easy there, gonna suffocate-”

You run your hands through his sweaty scalp, breath heightening. “Yeah, you ngh- okay?”

Grunting at the texture of Geto’s own tongue, “Mmmm– no.” Gojo’s classes are completely fogged-up at this point, and he’s only clashing them further. Adding one of his own lengthy fingers past your hole so that he can pump furiously. Both their hands so dexterous. “Muscularis contracting- ngh, even more leukorrhea- wet. Gonna cum- gonna cum gonna cum—”

And that’s exactly all it takes - the slightest, tiniest bend of Gojo’s stifling digits thumping your g-spot in carnal unison with Geto’s ringed ones, and then you’re reaching your orgasm. For the second time.

Hips fully wrenching off of the dampened chair cushions to push your two boys with a generous mouthful of your candied pussy- one they’re salivating over gratefully. Repeatedly targeting your favorite spots with their fingers, maws further agape, eyes rolling to the back of their heads.

You can only hit your chin against your chest to take in the lewd, lewd sight of being eaten out by both Gojo and Geto. “Sh-shiiit–” Cheeks wet with tears, “Never cum like this- ngh, it’s so- oh.”

“Please- that’s it, use me.” Gojo recants back, giving his features up for you to conduct such long, slobbering drags. “Use me, princess- ngh- m’fucking starved. Ohhh, fucking love this pussy. M’gonna eat you out for the rest of my life, miss valedictorian.”

Smirking, Geto pins your gyratin’ hips down and watches as Gojo blindly whines. Chasing the taste of your cunt just so he can lap you through your wet high. “Heh- you’re damn pussydrunk, nerd.” Turning to you with hooded eyes, your best friend’s making sure he murmurs this into your overstimulated pussy. “And you’re dumbified, my cute lil’ pipsqueak.”

Though, it’s not like he was any better.

But before Geto’s forced to bite down on his lower lip and bite back pure whimpers at the oversaturation of your taste, he pulls away.

Painfully, with a final sopping thwack! of his palm coming down to strike your cunt. Your eyes are just barely open enough to make out the fuzzy shapes of Geto pulling Gojo backwards, too, with a hand at his throat.

Watching as his lips detach from your pussy with a wet plop! strings of slick scattering all over his maw. Watching as his neat glasses stick to your pussy n’ he has to manually smear them back up his nosebridge, “Oi- the fuck do you think you’re doing, punk?”

“Well, you can make out with her pussy all you want, nerd.” Geto’s piercings glint as he pinches his index and thumb into a circle. Sticking his tongue lewdly between that hole, “I wanna fuck it.”

“Oh…” You can only ogle unabashedly once the two make quick work of discarding your top n’ bra, then their own clothes - Gojo’s two layers of vests, his formal pants, and Geto’s torn band t-shirt and washed jeans. All in a pile somewhere by your throne of an armchair.

They couldn’t be more different.

And that went for their hot, rock-hard cocks, too - where Gojo was longer, Geto was thicker.

Both oh-so-massive that it has your thighs clenching in both fear and anticipation, you can’t help but stare at the way that Gojo was so fuckin’ red that the bulging end of his shaft looked like strawberry. And just as thick, he’s glazing himself with so many layers of slick pre that fall down his lengthy member.

And Geto- oh, Geto’s was the sexiest tannish pink at his tip. Covered with so many puffy veins that you’re almost missing the line of a few silver barbells lining his fat shaft. A Jacob’s Ladder piercing - with a studded Prince Albert’s at the very bottom of his thoroughly flared tip.

Where Gojo’s cock was utterly pretty and made your cunt water, Geto’s looked like he was about to positively ruin you.

“Heh, that’s cute.” Your best friend croons, catching both your gaped staring. Gojo quickly snaps himself out of it, hands reaching for your open thighs to-

“Ah ah, dibs.” Geto slaps his hand away, and it takes him only a second to pick you up as if you were weightless. All carried in his broad arms - his shoulders were so muscular - to the nearby bedroom and lay you flat on the bouncy mattress.

Hovering over you, you take the opportunity to mindlessly gawk at him in a way you didn’t allow yourself to before. Everything from the sinful silver piercings that punctured his rosy nipples, to the stark black dragon tattooed across his back and down to his hips- and wait.

Your eyes damn near pop out of your head- right on the left side of his prominent v-line…was that…a tattoo of your first initial?

Geto catches the beeline of your eyesight and muses, “Got it in secret honor of my- ah, best friend.” Leaning in, “N’ you’re gonna feel it reeeal up close and personal now, best friend.”

Gojo calls out as he follows inside, “Oi- first come first haaaah- serve. Isn’t that right, princess?”

Before you can answer, Geto cuts in- “Then, I’m first-‘ Shoving the other man slightly, fighting for who gets the first touch of your pussy on their aching cocks. Geto’s cleanly pushes your boneless body onto all fours, stood by the edge of his bed. “-because you were my gorgeous girl first, riiiight—?”

“O-oh–! Yes- I mean no- I mean…” You’re yelping the very instant his cold, orbed piercing runs lazily down your slit from behind. And you whimper as the bed dips with a creak, revealing Gojo in all his needy glory - pale thighs parted about the length of your head, so towering where he was starin’ down at you through his thick glasses.

“Ya hear that, nerd?”

Gojo rolls his eyes, one hand smearing the plump pinkish curvature of his cock between your glossed lips. “Tch- my princess disagreed. Clearly.”

With a cackle, Geto slobbers his drooling mushroom tip down your folds- making sure that Gojo’s ears burn at the lecherous squeeelch-! that’s sounding out once he does. And you swear you’re seeing fucking stars by the time that he manspreads his sculpted thighs part and presses his thick circumference in—

“Shit- shit shit shit—” You’ve never been so stretched, and the utter fuckin’ girth of his circumference makes your eyes tear up pathetically. “How are you so bi- mmmpf!”

If you thought that stretch between your shaky, sheened legs was incredible- then you absolutely weren’t ready for the way that Gojo’s barging his prolonged cock right between your gawking mouth. Filling up your hot gummy maw with a few solid inches of his length, he wasn’t even bottomed-out yet, and you swear you could already feel him at your throat.

“Easy there, pipsqueak. Eeeasy does it.” Geto croaks out from behind you, shuffling his toned hips ever-so-slightly closer. Just the merest deepening entrance enough to make you salivate.

“Shiiiit- dunno who’s glands are l-leaking more- ” Gojo hisses, heavy lids flapping at the feeling of your treacly saliva gluing against the underside of his shaft. “Your pretty mouth, or your cunt…”

And you didn’t know either- hell, you couldn’t even think at this point.

It was just rendering you so dumb having both your slick orifices plugged up, Geto’s tattooed hips relentlessly pushing in half-thrusts from behind. Gojo clawing on top of your clammy crown and nudging your lolling head down further—

Managing to somehow muffle out, “Ngh- hck- so mm-much—”

“Yeahhh, as you like it, g-gorgeous.” Something in Geto’s voice shatters the very moment he’s able to slip his rigid cockhead in n’ swab your entrance with the point of his piercing.

Usin’ it like some cute lil’ searchlight as he’s pressing the cold metal against the sides of your stretchy walls, scouring down each side of your pussy for that spot of your nerves. The rub of his Jacob’s Ladder was mind-numbing, miniscule knobbled barbells poking tender crevices you didn’t even know existed. “Want you and this ngh- p-pretty lady right here nice n’- happy- and-”

Each word was punctuated by the most probing thrust of Geto’s powerful hips, easing the measurement of his cock inside you with the sloppiest noises.

Damn near muffling out your shrills when his pure pressure forces you forwards to pump even more of Gojo’s leaking shaft down your relaxed throat. Deeper. Harder.

“And taking- this-” With a hand on your hips, Geto reels you in- only for Gojo to scramble a grip on your throat and keep you with him. A tug-of-war. Pushing. Pulling.

And the only thing that both can think to do is urge their capped knees closer to you on the bed and split you wiiiide open-

“-biiiig stretch.” Geto finishes off.

Just as he bottoms out inside of your sweltering cunt, your initial kissin’ your skin, just as Gojo scratches the edge of your nose on his tufted white happy trail.

Both of them.

And they’re not wasting a single second - not even a split-second.

Because once your hot, clenchin’ holes have greedily swallowed up both of them, they’re rutting their hips back and half-thrusting. Not even fully- just half just to feel your heat, the sweet softness of you.

“Fuh-fuck, your buccal mucosa just feels sooo ngh-” Gojo’s babbling away, neck still held deftly within his fingers as he’s swervin’ his hips back to dab the very back of your throat with the fleshy circle of your tip. “Th-think I’m hitting all the way at your ngh- palate-”

Geto rolls his hazed eyes, tugging your hips back to strike your ass cheeks against his toned v-line. Hard enough that your mouth leaves Gojo’s bulbous tip with a pop! “D’you always needa talk like ngh- that, nerd?”

“Do you always need to be s-so filthy, punk?” The other man snarls, tempting his hips closer so that you’re almost squished between the two.

“Mmm—” Geto pretends to think, tapping the point of his chin with one hand, whilst the other smears your ass cheeks open to take a vulgar look at your cunt from behind. And he doesn’t answer- not at first, what he’s doing is spitting a cool wad of saliva that darts straightly down to your slit. “Hell yeah.”

With a roll of his shoulders, he’s thrashing the globular ends of his reddened, swollen shaft into your deepest depths. And it feels like you’re just melting around him, “So shut up and fuck, nerd.”

And Gojo Satoru was always first in class - if you weren’t, that is - you think he ever needed to be told anything twice?

Nibbling onto his pouty lower lip, Gojo darts one of his carnally itching fingerpads up and squeezes your flared nostrils - already rubbed raw by the massage of his ivory, curly hair.

Giggling something drunken as you sputter and choke on his throbbing shaft, “Fuck nnngh- you’re a dirty fucking girl, miss valedictorian-” He hisses, he’s spitting through clenched teeth every time the bumpy texture of your tastebuds were rovering down his tender underside.

Were latching onto the pulsating lines of his veins, and making him groan. Heavy, pink balls tighening each time they strike-strike-strike your chin, “S-sooo much better with my hah- fat fuckin’ cock stuck between those lips.”

Whining, you couldn’t even pant out in wailing gasps each time Geto’s bulbous piercings were crazing your bubblegum walls like a ladder. “F- mm fuck y-”

Squeezing your nose even tighter- “Fuck me?” Gojo titters out from above, and it’s almost humiliating the way he blushes as he looks down at you above his pecs, flexing core rippling with each hasty jackhammer.

Mean. His mouth was so mean, and the way his thumb drifts down the forefront of your throat, feeling for that bulge where his cock was driving was even meaner.

He could feel himself. Feel you taking him. “Y-you’re the one being fucked right now, princess.”

“Mhm— and by me.” And the very second that Gojo lets your nose free to breathe, Geto snakes his clit down to pinch your sopping wet clit.

“No- yes! Please-” You’re mewling, “Close- I-I’m so close- ngh-”

Your best friend leans in so close to whisper against the shell of your ear; letting his tattooed pecs glue to your back, lengthy locks tickling the arch of your sweaty spine. Holding on close. Hard. “No? Close? Make up your mind.”

You can only spit through an open maw—“No- yes- fuuuuck m-more.”

Absolutely ruined, and neither of them have ever seen you like this.

“H-her nucleus accumbens is going into overdrive-” Gojo sputters out, and you’re starin’ through your teary lashes at the cute way his condensation-filled glasses slip down his nose with each battering ram of his ravaged cock. “Which- hck! which means decreased activity in the cerebral cortex and- and it means…”

“Spit it out, nerd.”

“She’s close.”

“Haaah- coulda told you ngh- that.” And, truly, you’re squeezing your pretty bubblegum walls ‘round him so tight that it’s almost hard for Geto to pull back and forth in repeated thrusts. “Gonna cum f’me, pipsqueak? C’mon cooome on- let your best friend hah- fill you up, would you?”

You’re whining, “Please-” Heard sparking with whatever jumbled mess that Gojo had talked about and you couldn’t even begin to make sense right now. “Close- gonna- ngh-”

“Wait- you’re cumming inside fir- fuck!” Gojo gapes, only to hunch his washboard abs forwards and drive into you at the flick of your velvety tongue on his sensitive slit - his favorite. Only to cum- and the sight of you gulping down his milky mess, letting it dribble all down your bobbing throat was so sexy that Geto can’t help but lose it, too.

Shit- that was fast. Faster than he’d ever been with your panties snugly wrapping his cock and your photograph in hand - but your quivering, wet pussy just felt so good that he’s squelching out his orgasm once he’s feeling yours.

Long, ribbony bouts of seed that were just scalding puddling at the bottom of your pussy- you swear you’re feeling it slosh about inside of you with each tiny motion. Splashing inside your mouth.

All for you to swallow.

All three at once, you didn’t even think you could cum again before Geto’s giving you a carnal pinch to your clit. “Cum—ing– ngh.” You’re heavily gulping the ivory sap that glazes your tongue, eyes rolling back in utterly stupid bliss. “Please- oh.”

“No one taught you not to talk with your- haaah- mouth full, hm?” The man above you gruffs out through a dry gasp, hips sloppy. Chest heaving. Ringed, sticky digits twitching. “No one-” His breath hitches as he’s feeling your unsteady hips sliiide off of his pummeling cock, “Oh, where’d you think you’re going?”

“Nononono- no-” Gojo snarls, properly bearing his glinting canines like he was more animal than man right about now. Tuggin’ you back with the hand bruising your throat, “If m’fucking your creampie then I get to ngh- have her to myself a bit. Open.”

Breathless, you’re lolling out your tongue and gazing up at the way the towering man’s eyes widen at the lack of anything in your mouth. The way you’d swallowed it all. “M’gonna have so much fun this time.”

Wait…your eyes widen. Still jolting bodily with sparking bouts of electricity, your third - was that even the correct number - orgasm wasn’t even bating before they’re talking about the next.

Unaffected, Geto only rolls his eyes- and his fingers over your drivelling slit. Practically turned into a waterfall of his buttery white cum, making you pull off of Gojo’s cock with a hiss at his rude fingertips. “Oh, shut it.”

Before either of you can blink- before you can even breathe, your best friend’s stuffing your breaths all the way back into your screaming lungs.

All by sticking his cum-glazed finger inside your mouth, swirlin’ that creamy polish into your deepest crannies. “Hm…you, too.” And in mere nanoseconds, Geto has his white syrupy fingerpads stuffed inside Gojo’s mouth.

“What- mmpf–” Your mouthy academic rival just looks so pretty with thick fingers plunged between his spit-glittered lips. Pale brows scrunching together, face red-hot, a thin line of cum trickling slowly down the side of his suckling mouth.

And it’s enough so that your ravenous hips start lurching down the expanse of Geto’s cock- as if to milk him for more.

“Hehhh–?” He’s grinning through his shaggy raven strands at your motions, pulling back his fingers with a squelch. “What a filthy girl- stuffed you with so much cum you’re over ngh- overspilling, and you still wan’ more?”

With only your cutesy babbles for an answer, you’re feeling him straighten his muscular core up to face Gojo even more. “So, you either fuck her w’my cum inside- or, watch as I fill her up with s-so much of my cum she can’t not feel it inside-”

“Shut up n’ let me fuck my girl, punk.”

“Mm— that’s not having the hah- reaction you want, nerd.” As if to prove his point, Geto’s gleaming cock twitches when he’s easing out of you with a raw slurp. Slowly, but surely, he takes his sweet, sweet time to remind you of the pattern of piercings lining his frenulum. “Our girl, you mean.”

You’re swearing he’s only getting even bigger at the sight of you- draped across Gojo’s thoroughly sculpted front not even a moment later. Your cunt frosted white with his own cum, Gojo’s bulbous mushroom tip bulging your pussylips wiiide open. Impatient.

“Oh.” Geto manages to pant out.

Just barely lets himself even breathe before he’s dropping further down the protesting bedsprings, all the way until his hot breaths breeze across your oversensitive pussy in a lil’ ‘hello.’

Grunting, Gojo tugs your chin back over to face him - resting flatly on his back so you’re trembling n’ limp on his abs.

“Mmm– hello, princess.” He’s crooning out with his deep, rasping voice. And you answer with a whimper of your own at the sexy feeling of his core flexing underneath you, pecs all bouncy in the way they had no right to be.

He was so big - both of them were, Gojo being taller where Geto was broader.

Yet, both numerous inches over six feet and sandwiching you with their chiseled weights as you’re settling on top of Gojo. Cushioned over his broad, flushed chest, you feel him cup your sweaty cheek, “Heh, d-don’t think you can be valedictorian like this.”

You’re marrying your brows in what looked like such adorable annoyance to his half-lidded eyes. “Mmm—how are you gonna say that when hck! you’re the one that got pussydru- oh, fuck.”

Fuck, and then you’re promptly shut up by Geto’s tongue slithering slimily between the folds of your pussy. Letting his curly tip lap up every wadded ounce of cum overspilling out of you, “Oh, don’t stop on mmm- my accounts. Always so cute when yer mad, pipsqueak.”

“I was thinking more hot—” Gojo’s moaning out, bucking- and he was still so rock-hard. So needy that just the slightest slip n’ slide across your outer pussy makes him rut- “Fuck.”

And it makes him sink inside, just the slightest push of his thick, rotund crown. Your filthy hole plugs up with his strawberry-pink tip and you’re finding yourself gasping.

“Not gonna help me clean up, nerd?”

“Sh-shut the fuck up-” Gojo’s scrunching his brows until he’s feeling dizzy- or maybe that was just the sopping, soft feeling of your pussy. Opening up such a primal part of him once he’s listening to the swampy noises being pulled out, “Her pussy- o-ohhh this pussy…your adventitia stretches so, the way you’re- I can’t…”

You’d made one of the smartest, most eloquent men on campus speechless.

“And you call me filthy.” Geto chuckles darkly from behind you, still not stopping. Still letting the pierced muscle of his tongue swirl right near your entrance, each solid inch that Gojo was bullying inside made you leak onto his tastebuds with a splat!

Filthy.

Absolutely filthy. You couldn’t even begin to describe the sensation when Gojo’s starting to pick up his pace- to start driving his hips in a back n’ forth that only lets him pound you with half-thrusts.

Shaft so plump that it won’t even fit- he’s arching his slam-reddened hips up from the mattress to push and push and push. “S’my turn now- my- hck! gonna take this fucking cock, right, princess?” Gojo strangles out, “Right- right?”

Voice pitching higher, unsteadily cracking.

He can’t stop himself from firmly planting his two feet spread further just so he can cling onto your hips and gift you direct slams. Deeper.

“Please- s-so biiig— will it even fit.”

Gojo shoots a prideful glance down at Geto, who only thumbs apart your bruised n’ battered pussylips with a smirk. “Of course, it will.” And you’re jolting at the burning sensation of his ringed thumb pushing inside of your wet hole, just to stretch you out even wider for Gojo.

THWACK!

He’s tittering meanly as the little spank leaves you leaking from the sides of your stretched-out hole, a little trail of creamy white for him to lick down. Frigid orb of his piercing just lightly skimming Gojo’s own tender shaft, “If you’re good that is, gorgeous.”

“Yeah- yeah.” Gojo’s panting out, so drunk on the sappy texture. He felt like your elastic walls were just molding to his exact size, so tight n’ warm. “Why don’tcha count for me, miss valedictorian?”

“C-count? Satoru, what do you- oh.”

Oh was right- by the way the inches of his cock flinched inside of you. He wanted you to count how many inches he was - and you swear you hear even Geto hum in interest from behind.

Smirking to himself, oh, he’s got his mouth open to drool and make such a mess as Gojo starts stirrin’ your dewy insides with the ragged lines of his veins. Pulling back all the way until his rounded cockhead stretches your entrance, “One- c’mon, one.”

“O-one-” You’re echoing out after Gojo- but oh, even that was a fucking feat. Especially with Geto’s twirling tongue piercing rubbin’ all over your overstuffed slit. Hiccuping, “Two-”

“Mhm—?”

“Three- ngh- five.”

Geto snickers, “Does five come after three?”

“Heh, not so smart now, huh?” Gojo lazes his tongue out for you to suckle on whilst you quietly sob at the utter size of him, he just kept going and going. Like it was never-ending, Gojo’s pretty pink girth kisses the very area of your g-spot without even trying-

“Then just shut up and fuck me, Toru- oh.”

He does. Oh, you think Gojo could ever deny you?

Bottoming out with an angry jackhammer, “Ten–!” You find yourself throwing your head back with a keen, feeling that shuddering thump of his weepy shaft strike the back of your cervix. Hard. With ten solid, throbbing inches somehow shovelled inside of you, you’re bucking backwards in figure-eights, “Ten- ten ten ten- please-”

“Mmm, my turn, pipsqueak.”

Stupidly, your maw splits open with a gush of saliva- “H-huh?”

“You heard me- heh, or are you that fucked out, already?” Geto was just so mean, taking his sensual time to finish drinking up the salted caramel taste of his gooey cum dripping out of you. Until you were all niiiice and clean.

Gojo gives you another few repeated whacks to your most tender spots, almost like he was staking his claim. Eyes narrowed through slimy, slick-sprayed glasses, “Oi- you already got your turn.”

“Yeah n’ now m’fucking hard again.” Rolling his lavender eyes, Geto tuts at the impatient, sloppy way Gojo was fucking into you. “Make yerself useful and open her pretty legs a little wider.”

Grumbling, you’re oh-so-shocked to find that Gojo Satoru actually does what he’s told.

“You hafta teach me how to do that-” You’re jesting, only to get punished with another merciless bruise gliding down your cervix.

“Hahhh- yeahhh, you know it.” Your best friend nods down at you, “That’s it. Now arch those hips up f’me now.”

Something like a territorial growl rips from the back of Gojo’s throat as he feels Geto hover onto his knees from behind. Leaning forwards until his silky, Stygian hair fell like a curtain around you two. “Now, wan’ you to count again- both of you.”

Both?

Evidently, the same thing is registering in Gojo’s mind because he squawks- “B-both?”

“Ya heard me.” Turning your head over your shoulder, you’re noticing that there’s something devilish glinting within Geto’s priggish smile. With a tilt of his head he’s pushing his plump cockhead to kiss the entrance to your cunt. Your already-full entrance. “Count. And m’not talking about how many inches.”

You whine, “Then what do you expect us t-to…”

Oh, and then you’re getting it. And Gojo is, too.

Because in that instant, Geto’s drawing that cold, circular piercing of his slit along the outside of your pussy folds. The down Gojo’s shaft, then slipping it inside-

“One- ohhh-fuck!” It comes tumbling out of your mouth before you can control yourself, and your hips are gyrating back crazily to chase the incredible stretch of a second thick cock entering you. Struggling to. Aching to. “One, ngh– Sugu, please.”

“Atta giiiirl-” Geto coos, the long locks of his bangs flying as he turns his head to Gojo. “Yer falling behind, nerd.”

“…”

With a tut, he’s rolling his hips, “Come on-”

“Oh-” Comes out that pretty, pretty gasp from the edges of your spit-glossed lips. Feeling the cold line of Geto’s second piercing - his Jacob’s Ladder, this time - just grazing the treacly base of your pussy. “T-two…?”

“Two.” Gojo spits out, in reluctant unison with you as that chilling metal touches his fragile shaft- and he hates to admit that it just made his mouth water.

“Theeere we go.”

With one hand groping the backs of your thighs to stretch you out wiiide open for him, and the other rovering underneath your tummy to feel you bulge with two monstrous cocks- Geto sinks his way inside.

Twitching his red, flared tip upwards to bash the roof of your channel once the both of your two below him start babbling in sync- “Th-three. Four. Five?”

Letting his back arch so sensually at the slip n’ slide of your velvety walls, “Fuck.” He has to fight to not throw his head back stupidly, because shit- watching your cute circular hole get stretched out so tightly was fucking heaven to see. “C’mon-” Each word, each breath punctuated by a mindless rut to squeeze inside. “C’mon c’mon c’mon-”

“W-will it even fit, Sugu–?”

“Of course it will, pipsqueak.”

“As if, punk.”

Geto raises a dark brow in challenge, “Heh- you speak- what- five languages and pussy isn’t one of them?”

Face burning red, Gojo only tilts his head down until his bangs cover up most of his face. Enough of playing patience, enough of humping you like some dog in heat- he’s perking his hips up and dragging them in tandem with Geto’s- who only seems to be enjoying the music of your pretty squelches.

“Mmm– see?” Oh, those lecherous noises were only spurring him on. The double penetration makes you slurp as if you were greedily gobbling him whole, and Geto just can’t stop smiling. “Otherwise you’d know that she’s just cryyyyyying for-” Bottoming out, initial tattoo gluing to your skin. “-both.”

You gasp, “Suguru, you have six-” Just as he nuzzles his dark happy trail, fully sheathed inside of you and like he never wanted to pull out now. “-seven piercings?”

Seven piercings in all, one at the very tip scraping along your bubblegum walls, and the others massaging up n’ down Gojo’s length. “Only for you, my girl.”

“My girl, you mean.” It was a challenge.

And Geto takes the bait. “Well then—” Purring out his sinful words, he leans over to restrain your gasping throat in a headlock. Big, beefy hands cutting off your airway- and Gojo’s dexterous fingers smushing your cheeks together embarrassingly, “Tell us. Tell us who you want.”

It comes out a whine- and then a beg—“More.” And you’re feeling the way that both men halt, as if your very voice had just shocked them into freezing. “M-more, I wan’ more- Toru- Sugu-”

Well, whatever you want…you get.

It’s like something’s snapping- audibly, in later hours you’d realize that it was Geto’s aged bedframe, but right now you’re dazedly wondering whether it was the last remnant of their sanity.

Because in such precise unison, Geto pulls his cock nearly all the way out- enough for Gojo’s fattened length to take up every mass of space inside you and bludgeon all the way to the back of your pussy.

Reeling back, letting Geto nuzzle his startling metal piercings against your cervix- your walls. Back n’ forth back n’ forth- it’s like they’re milking themselves on you.

So big that you’re being constantly pumped forwards with each of their thrusts. Being sandwiched between Gojo’s eagerly pumping strokes, and Gojo’s mean teasing.

The sheer carnal stretch was just so incredible that you cry out, “O-ohhh, fuck. H-how does it feel this good- s’like you’re ngh- taking me from the- inside-”

“We are takin’ you from the inside, silly girl.” Geto’s tittering out, oh, it was just so cute how cockdrunk you were for them that he just can’t help but take extra sensually long to rub your g-spot raw with his Jacob’s Ladder. “Taking every inch of you, every spot, every pulse, everything inside this cunt.”

And that’s when Gojo pipes up, pushing his thoroughly foggy glasses up his nosebridge. “A-according to my calculations with time n’ speed and- ngh, stretch, s’at least triple the- the pressure on your anterior wall and Gräfenberg spot, princess.”

You can only look stupidly along down at the scorched blush covering his cheeks, a slim line of saliva drooling down the side of your chin that Gojo has the audacity to flop his tongue out and lap up.

“In other words…” Looking at you with such heady blue eyes- you swear you’ve never seen him look more gone. Cherry-pink lips twitching as he’s folding them into a grin, “Two is better than one.”

Geto chuckles from behind, “Now now, Satoru…don’t think our girl even ngh- understands that right now.” With the powerful headlock, he’s tugging you up to look at him instead.

And you don’t think you’ve seen either of them look so fucked-out. They weren’t any better than you.

Eyes wide, mouths parted, blushed the exact same sappy shades of pink as their bulbous tips. Each thump grazing your g-spot just makes your pussy bulge with the sagging weight of them- enough so that you almost don’t even hear Geto’s next few words.“Mm– heh, you’re sooo cockdrunk right now, pipsqueak. What’s two plus two?”

“T-two plus…” Trailing off, you can only chase their two smashing lengths for more more more. Bawling out just as much as your dripping pussy was right now, “Ngh- hck!”

“Look at you, miss valedictorian.” Gojo’s never looked more accomplished- not even during all those times he’d beaten you during a final or quiz.

Blowing the sweat-plastered white bangs out of his face, he croaks out- “S’the only thing you know how t-to ngh-” Hissing at the ridges of Geto’s cock, the way it was just suuuuch a tight fuckin’ fit inside of you, he has to put extra pressure just to fuck up into you. “-t-take both our- cocks, huh?”

Geto drags out a lil’ ‘aw’, but there was nothing nice about the way he was starin’ down at you. “Now now, Satoru. We should ask-” And he times his slender hips just right, “-d’you even know your own- hah- name?

“I- ngh- I–” It’s just so pitchy how you’re trilling out after each gash of Geto’s thick, split-ended tip. And Gojo’s- oh, Gojo’s was just rapid. You’re feeling them both probe against your cervix at once, and shriek– “Close- ngh- hah. I’m gonna- ohh, I’m gonna-”

“Close? S’that her name, Satoru?”

“Seems so, Suguru.”

Chortling, Geto’s sodden fingerpads find themselves moving from that tummy bulge of yours to your clit. Pinching. “Then, how hah- fitting that m’gonna make you cum, gorgeous.”

“Nuh uh, I’m gonna make her cum.” Gojo hisses- ah, there was that old challenge again. And both are taking it as such - determined to be the first to make you cum.

Gojo with his rapid, half-thrusts that bash your g-spot until you’re seeing stars. And then Geto with the filthily sensual rubs n’ dubs of his piercings that make you drool. Chasing that high. Ruining yourself.

Harder and harder- you didn’t even know if you could cum again. But it only takes one-two-three more synchronized pumps straight into the deepest depths of your pussy for you to find out - you weren’t just cumming. You were squirting.

Body shaking, eyes bawling by the end of it.

And by the looks of it, neither of the two were fully expecting that either.

Because Gojo gasps, he flushes- muscular pelvis hitting upwards into yours as he cums, too. Thick, ropey wads of seed that clog up the channel of your pussy, “Sh-shit. Shit shit shit- s’too much.”

It really was, and it was pouring out of you in hot, ivory bucketloads. So much that you never even thought could be cooped up inside you.

And Geto? Oh, this was way more than he’d ever seen in his wildest dreams- you with your stinging lips chanting his name, and his. “Sugu- Toru- cumming. Nghh fuck, m’cumming cumming cumming-” Hips sloshing over sparkly gushes of your slick with each bounce, still sucking him up so–

“F-fuck.” If any of you were in a better state, you’d have wondered about the way that Geto’s voice pitches. Cracks. About the way his breath hitches when he’s noticing that he’s cumming dry.

Heart thumping in his throat, rouge lips wobbling. It’s perhaps the first time that he’s officially lost for words, “I-I’m…” Remembering that conversation you had back in the café from what felt like years ago. Tongue parched, heaving- “-actually cumming…d-dry.”

“Told you.” You’re shooting him an impish grin.

“Join the club.” Gojo growls out- but that’s not what he’s worried about right now. Not at all, his forearms n’ abs were all shiny with your juices- pushing in the wiry knots of cum that sprays out of you like a fountain. “Inside- fuck, I need it inside, princess.”

Thighs trembling, you can only watch in speechless awe once Gojo’s taking up the job of webbing your pussy up with his leaking mess. Drawing an unsubtle S-A-T-O-R-U on your cunt all the while.

“Satoru…” You’re warning, throat alright tight with the feeling of Geto twitching-

Still rock-hard.

Still needy.

“W-well…” It takes him a few seconds to collect his fucking wits - absentmindedly, he dips the crowns of his fingers inside your creamy pussy and draws out his very own S-U-G-U-R-U on the forefront of your tummy, your womb.

Possessively, he bites down on the crook of your neck and it felt like you were being impaled by his snake bites. Burning once he guides one of your hands back to his v-line- to his tattoo of your initial. “Y’know what I love about ngh- science experiments, gorgeous?”

“Wh-what…?” You’re looking confusedly between him and Gojo- who apparently understands way before your cockdrunken mind does.

And so your nerdy rival grins with a push of his glasses. Bucking up, up, up- “They have twenty-five trials.”

“Oh my god- thrown to the wolves or…”

“Look at those marks—can barely even walk, is that Gojo’s doing-”

“Wait- Geto’s right behind, and he’s so close…you don’t think they’re-”

You’re fairly certain that a zoo could run through your lecture hall right now and no one would even notice. Not when they’re oh-so-occupied ogling and pointing out at the bites across every inch of your skin, the hand marks peeking from underneath the hem of your shirt.

Hell, a few were even secretly recording- surely to send to the betting pool groupchat. And somewhere in the student body you swear you see Shoko exchange cash with Ijichi. Traitors!

Though, to be fair you did look ruined - no matter how much you tried to tug at your sleeves and douse yourself in foundation. They’d simply run you ragged last night, if the broken bed, two broken couches, and five noise complaints were anything to go by.

And it really didn’t help that you had Gojo clinging onto one of your sides, and Geto dangling off of the other. Almost like they were stuck to you with adhesive.

They walked when you walked, they sat when you sat. And once you’re settled into your usual seat at the front row, surrounded by the two, you swear you hear Professor Yaga sigh something or the other about ‘not being paid enough.’

“I swear-” You start to whisper to the two underneath your breath, “If we make it out of this alive, I’m killing the two of you.”

Geto smiles, picking at one of his heavy rings. “Mm– anything for you, gorgeous. A bit kinky, however, no?”

“Hah-” Gojo only crosses his sweater-clad arms and leans back priggishly in his chair. “I’d like to see you fuckin’ try, miss valedictorian.”

Dear lord, what have you gotten yourself into?

But before you can open your mouth - or maybe stand up and run out of this hellscape of an exhibitionistic lecture altogether - a low, grouchy baritone drawls from the row right behind you.

And you don’t know what you’re more surprised at - the fact that you’re still recognizing the voice of your ex-boyfriend, Sukuna, or the fact that a nationally-acclaimed student athlete like him was attending class when he usually never did.

“So…” Sukuna’s swole biceps bulge as he leans over his desk exactly behind you- and you didn’t know whether it was the skin-tight boxing jacket with an emblazoned ‘SUKUNA’ or the fact that he’d gotten even bigger since your break-up. Everything from the meaty thighs damn near ripping through his sports shorts, to the way he seemed to take up two seats at once.

Obnoxiously, he hits the back of Gojo’s chair with his overly-long legs. “You three fucked. Everyone knows.”

Gojo sputters.

Geto grins.

And you can’t rip your eyes away from the sheer ripe curve of Sukuna’s tattooed pecs- coral pink hair still damp after training, athletic figure inching even closer as he smirks.

“I want in, ma.”

A/N. Slight Part 2 to this but can be read alone!! ALSO Y’ALL I’VE BEEN GETTING CALLED UNC HERE AND THERE TODAY I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS…

Plagiarism not authorized.

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lil-sweater-slut · 2 months ago

Text

34+35 𝜗𝜚

❤︎ sum. can you stay up all night? fuck him ‘till the daylight, 34 + 35? nanami kento, ijichi kiyotaka, geto suguru, choso kamo, gojo satoru, sukuna ryomen, toji fushiguro

warnings. fem! reader, unprotected, 69, manhandling, ass-obsessed men, true form! sukuna, fíngering, mirror séx, squírting, riding ijichi’s glasses, cunnīlingus, bjs, spanks, riding their tongues, praise, implied marathons, sukuna’s stomach tongue, overstim, pússydrunk men, messy eating, milking them, breedīng mentions, dirty talk, petnames.

✩ ˛˚ . IJICHI KIYOTAKA

“oh,” ijichi would gulp, basking in your slick glory that’s located between your cracked thighs. you’re arched over, holding your hips up while he laid flat on his back against the bed. as a mere taunt, you wriggle your ass against his face and you hear a small gasp depart from his thinly-parted lips. “ ‘s this position comfortable for you, m’ love?”

“mhmhm,” you’d hum, wrapping a hand around his vein-covered cock. from all girthy sides and angles, its decorated with prominent veins that prodded solely at the way your thumb rubbed against his tender foreskin. it even had a cute ‘lil curve on the side. “don’t be shy, ‘jichi. i’ll just be down here.”

with a teasing, sweet shimmy of your hips, your sloppy cunt ends up imprinting against ijichi’s squared glasses lenses. beforehand, he asked if he should take them off but oh, you insisted for him to keep them on.

right then, you moaned, feeling his tongue give your dripping folds a few flicks before he pushed the metal bridge back up his nose. “s- so pretty,” he’d murmur huskily, groaning mellowly once he felt the tip of your tongue slither around his ruby-colored tip. he’s still so sensitive, and ijichi squeezed the left cheek of your ass before giving it a soft sharp smack. “mngh- keep . . keep doin’ that, m’love. use your tongue like that ‘n ride against my- hah- face, fuck-”

it’s barely been a few seconds and ijichi’s already rendered completely speechless. as you arched your back over the top of his chest, he had a clear 20/20 vision of your dripping, glistening pussy steamily clouding his eyesight. with your panties lazily shoved to the side, he slides a thumb down your already pulsating clit that’s thump thump thumping.

“o… oh, wow,” he breathes shakily, guiding his thumb more up toward your sticky, dripping cunt. as ijichi was buried between your thighs, he was already feeling his mouth starting to water like a dog. it takes him a bit to actually find your clit, but when he does - you let off a sweet mewling sound that could easily pass for a harmony.

up close, your pussy was just so so pretty. in an erotic, carnal way - it even resembled a flower. his thumb softly pulled at the flap of your folds and you moaned, feeling his lukewarm tongue slickly dip its way inside. “am i doing this right?”

“you’re doin’ perfect, ijichi,” you moaned, making sure to lather your dripping tongue all over his darkly-red tip. he sucked in a short-winded breath beneath you, using his other hand to tug on his unkempt tie. his breathy, shallow pants aired against your cunt and you bit your lip, wriggling your slick core more swiftly against his face. “use your tongue a little more and- and, don’t be shy to be a little nasty.”

nasty.

ijichi’s ears perked, and he felt his dick twitch instantly in the palm of your hand. as you started to gradually fit his length inside of the cozy warmth of your mouth, he sighs deeply.

“okay-” he grunts, dragging your hips back just a bit more. your pussy wetly slides over the bridge of his nose before landing back on his compressed lips. he’s already starting to spasm with you on top of him, and ijichi’s now slurping your pussy. every few seconds, you’d feel the cold square lenses of his glasses tickle against your folds. “mngh-” he moans, feeling you cup a hand over his swollen base. they felt so full, and you hummed with a slight smile, just imagining how much of a load he was probably hiding.

you covered your teeth with your lips as you continued to go down - lapping up any glittery drop of saliva that spewed down the sides of his heavy cock. “mhm,” you muffled a sweet moan, hollowing your cheeks while feeling his tongue hungrily strum its way back ‘n forth against your g-spot.

it makes you shudder for a second, and you almost slip off another moan. ijichi was loudly moaning the entire time though, and he couldn’t help it.

it was just the way your tongue steadily glided its way down one of his veins before you popped your mouth back up to his tip was an echoing pop. while you continued, you brought your hands down toward your bare breasts before giving them a soft squeeze.

instantaneously, ijichi’s dark hooded eyes trailed down just for a quick peek and he murmured out a shaky, ‘oh f- fuck,’ once he saw you cupping your pretty tits whilst bobbing your head up and down on his curved shaft. “y- you’re so hot,” he huffed, dragging a hand through his neatly-gelled hair. “i’m not gonna… last m’love, not when you’re moving your pretty ass against my glasses like t- this.”

“didn’t say you could stop eating, ‘jichi.” you briefly popped his crowned tip from your slick-coated lips, steadying your rocky hips against his face. behind you, you heard him let off a throaty groan before his tongue tenderly flicked at your clit thrice. the gluey sap that dripped from your folds perfectly decorated a good portion of his lips, and that’s when ijichi started to pant even more.

“ ‘m sorry, f- fuck,” he whines between your legs, feeling your lips wrap back ‘round his aching length. taut gripping fingers tug at your perk ass before he’s rolling his tongue everywhere, feeling the sticky fog of your pussy cling against the lens of his prescription glasses. “ ‘m gonna cum. can’t hold-”

with a small smile, you whispered out a small, “go ahead,” before teasingly guiding the tip of your lukewarm tongue down his veiny cock. pants of pleasure surged through every part of ijichi’s body, and while his tongue was still buried inside of your clit, he finally releases. his wet lips were all glossy and raw-bitten as he pursed them, letting off a hoarse moan before his neck fell limp against his pillow. “t- that’s it, let go for me, baby.”

when ijichi came - he came hard.

his tip erupted like a volcano, remnants of his creamy mess spouting down your hand so warmly like hot magma. within an instance, you slowly traced your tongue around his leaking tip whilst letting off a content hum at his tangy taste. “ugh-” he swallows, feeling his limp body beneath you stiffen. ijichi was shaking while you continued to slither your wet tongue over his sensitive frenulum. “your tongue alone might just hah- make me propose, sweetheart.”

as your brows came together, you brought his leaking tip back away from your lips before turning around, and facing him. “oh?” you sweetly quipped, pressing both palms on his wrinkled business shirt. “well, are you?”

“maybe,” he breathes roughly, and you slip off a gasp once he suddenly spins you around, making you fall flat back against your chest. ijichi stares at your backside before pouting, re-adjusting his glasses whilst pressing his face close to your dripping pussy. “ahem, but first-” he clears his throat, and you moaned once he languidly slipped his thick ring finger inside of your folds, watching it disappear.

“l- let me practice my proposal, m’love.”

✩ ˛˚ . TOJI FUSHIGURO

“ah, c’mere,” toji grunts, dragging your hips back. callused, stubby fingertips softly pierce into the plush flesh of your hips before he positions you. instinctively, you raise your hips while getting a straight view of toji’s hard bulge poking through his denim-blue boxers. “park that pretty pussy, atta girl.” and you moaned, feeling the flatness of toji’s smooth tongue greet your drooling cunt with a starving wet lick.

as you looked in front of you - oh, he’s fucking hard.

your hand wrapped around his thick cock before you shyly flicked your tongue over his slit. gruffly, toji grumbles lowly beneath you before he uses two big hands to spread your cute squirming ass apart.

at the sound of a slick wet ‘pft’ - you gasped, feeling toji’s saliva abruptly trickle down. as you choked back whimpers, you delicately rubbed a thumb down his veiny shaft before gingerly sinking him into your mouth.

“fuuuck, that’s it, baby girl,” toji groans against your dripping heat, playfully capturing your clit with his teeth for a split second before releasing. toji was always nasty and he had no shame at all. he was always an eater and you and him both knew that.

slimy, glittery spit cascades down your puffed slit the more he continued to devour you. “work that fuckin’ throat like you always know how to do, mhm,” and you’re already drooling from the corners of your mouth as both of your cheeked puffed out from how full it was.

his cock’s just stupidly fat - it’s got a hanging curve of its own as it leaned, and his thick girth that prodded against the inside of your cheeks had you short-circuiting within seconds. every time you felt toji’s tongue sloppily zigzag its way through your cunt like a maze, your back arched further.

“ngh-” you’d let off a muffled mewl, trying to keep your focus in front of you. as your left palm continued to twist around toji’s hardened cock, your head finally started to bobble after a while. he’s underneath you the entire time, sliding his burly arms toward your thighs before teasingly pulling you closer to his starving mouth.

“awh, wish you could see how much of a crybaby you are right here between yer legs, sweet girl,” toji rasps, dragging his tongue across his lips before feeling you already starting to dampen his patchy stubble. “sooo damn wet for me that she’s cryin’ little crocodile tears,” he snickers, dipping his long tongue inside of your cunt only to snatch it right back out. your legs trembled over toji’s face and he lowly laughed against your pussy, giving it a cocky pat. “so cute.”

“s- shiiit, toji,” you drawled out a sobbing whine, wetly popping his reddish-shaded tip out of your mouth. it’s loud, reverbing briefly through the four walls of your shared apartment before your toes promptly clenched. “ ‘m gonna fuckin’ cum, your t- tongue’s so d-”

as toji grabbed your hips, making you sit flat on his face, he grumbled against your soddened pussy. “not deep enough? yeah, i agree. hold still,” and you audibly gasped - much louder this time once his tongue expanded further inside you.

strands of his matted black hair tickled against you as he lolled his tongue against your salivating heat again and again ‘till you could practically taste your candied release. you’re rocking against his mouth as you still face the other way, moaning once his fingerprints harshly dug into the fat of your tender flesh. “ride it.”

“ride wh-”

“girl you heard me,” toji smacks his lips, hoarsely swatting a palm against your ass before taking a second to collect air in his raspy lungs. “ride it.”

you knew what he meant the second you heard him slip off a lewd ‘ah.’ toji’s tongue laid flat, and he held up your rickety hips from his face for just a moment before you prepared a sharp breath.

“o- okay,” you pressed your glossed lips together, slowly lowering your ass back down against his mouth. from nose to chin - oh, toji’s face was just smeared with your glimmering slick. it adds a sort of lewd shine to his face, and you caught a slight peek of it from craning your head back.

the creaking bed beneath you both seismically shook, its impact almost equivalent to an earthquake with the way your aching hips rocked and rocked over toji’s mouth. he’s got his pink tongue rolled out flat whilst he’s baring his verdant-green eyes into the rotating flesh of your ass. “mhm,” he gifts the right cheek of your ass a stinging mean slap, dragging out a sweet pitiful whimper from your lips.

a wave of rapture cascades down your veins as you twirl your hips ‘round, already spasming from his sloppy elongated slurps. you slid the tip of your tongue down his length whilst your free hand started to reverse its wet twists around his cock. “yeaaah, girl. use that.. hah- tongue.”

as a bit of your saliva poured from your droopy lips, you whimpered - feeling toji’s teeth softly nibble at your clit. he’s ruthless, using both hands to sprawl your ass apart wider before trailing his tongue up to lap near your neglected hole. your back remained arched as he slurped you clean, making sure the tip of his salivating tongue prodded through every wet part of your convulsing pussy. but after a few seconds, your body had about just enough.

you squealed, feeling yourself writhe on his flicking tongue while your vision temporarily turned into nothing but splotches of white. “f- fuuuck,” you’d drag out, gasping once your release finally came. it slams into you at full force, and your jaw tensed. you could still hear toji’s slick hungry slurps from behind you, and that’s when your legs cutely collapsed. “tojiiiii, toji-” and all you could babble out with his name as your weak hand still wrapped around his hardened cock.

“tsk,” he clicks his tongue, sliding a fat thumb down your pulsating clit before darting his tongue down your weeping opening. you moaned, feeling the edge of his scarred lips smear itself against your pussy and you could also feel the stretching grin growing across his lips as he stayed beneath your numbed legs. “poor thing. my girl’s just about had it, hm?”

and once he heard you cutely flop on the cushioned mattress, toji sits up, licking your slick clean from his now sheeny lips. “aw, my tongue too much for you?” he huskily utters, leaning his head down, kissing near the top part of your slobbering cunt. even still - you were shaking, fluttering from the after effects of his maddened tongue, and yet, you only wanted more.

toji raised a brow, seeing you suddenly arch your back again before using two fingers to spread your wet folds apart in front of him. while were still silently whimpering out cute ‘lil pleads of his name, you did a cute shimmy of your ass as if you were saying, ‘more.’ “dirty girl. teasing me with my favorite meal’s only gonna do so much.”

toji then rubs the entirety of his palm against your tepidly-hot pussy before softly pushing your head back into your fluffed pillow. “but fine, just keep that pretty ass up for me while i fuckin’ eat.”

✩ ˛˚ . GOJO SATORU

satoru drinks it just like water, saying it tastes just like candy.

if it was anything about him though, it was that he’s almost always had a sweet tooth all his life - but he had to admit, there wasn’t anything sweeter than his pretty ‘lil wife who gets a little too handsy when the little ones are spending the weekends at their grandparents.

with his blindfold still on, he’s got you frantically squirming over his naturally-smirking mouth while both hands deeply gripped onto the jiggling flesh of your ass. “s- satoru,” you’d sob out a sweet gasping whimper, feeling his wry tongue crawl its way through every nook and cranny of your dripping cunt. on your own, you’re effortlessly making the bed shake with your quaky tremors and it was just so cute. “sato- fuuck.”

“you’re slidin’ again, angel,” he murmurs against your pussy, and he’s just nose-deep. the tip of satoru’s nose was wet, as well as his chiseled chin that was just prettily shining all thanks to your slick. you leaned forward, glancing down at his flushed tip that was still spilling tiny droplets of pre from all plump sides. “mngh- don’t just stare, silly girl. you can hah- give it a little kiss while i eat-”

as you’re still allowing harmonic whines to pour from the cracks of your lips, you brought your glossed lips up to the head of his cock. satoru’s happily buried between your thighs, hungrily delving his tongue in ‘n out of your cunt with such bestial haste.

“oh, my goddd,” you bit your lip, bringing a hand to wrap around his length. slipping out your tongue, you slowly rolled it around his tip in hypnotizing circles, feeling him shiver beneath you. he gives your ass a playful smack, the visible recoil of your skin causing him to groan against your pussy. “m- mhm, don’t stop, ‘toru.”

the bed beneath you both shook so much that it was easy for one to mistake it for an earthquake. with the way you fiercely rocked your hips against his mouth in such an addicting motion, satoru’s starting to moan right with you.

“good girl, use those pretty hips uh huh,” and you felt his lips suddenly depart for a second before feeling something else. as satoru’s recollected shallow airy breaths, he prods the tip of his lanky middle finger against your sobbing pussy. “real question is, is she gonna be a good wet girl ‘n open up a liiiittle more for me?”

as your lips wrapped around satoru’s cock, you let off a muffled moan once his digit started to vanish inside of your squeezing cunt. your tummy heaved, gasping silently at the tender feeling while barreling such a looong finger inside. your tongue swiped its way across his sweet-tasting tip before you started to quicken your pants.

“phew,” satoru ogles intently, staring as you kept your sprawled legs apart. he watched closely as you instantly clenched around his finger, dampening his digit within minutes. your pussy even squelched out wet little sounds of its own, and he can’t help but softly rub his thumb down your puffed clit. “guess she can. my wet wifey can just about do anything when she’s soaking for me, hmm.”

“mmngh-” you moaned, both of your legs shaking once he dipped his same finger right back out. satoru licks it clean before lolling his desirable pink tongue right back out. your mouth’s full, and you’re trying to maintain focus but failing every passing second.

satoru spreads your ass apart, shamelessly slurping your pussy as he felt the cute ‘lil pulses tickle his tongue. whilst he’s shamelessly devouring you whole, his pretty white lashes remain closed for the time being. you were spasming on his mouth as you continued to take him in your mouth.

but right then, satoru flutters his eyes open, pulling his blindfold up from his face like they another pair of your lacey panties. he snickers, using his technique to know you were just about there. “uh oh,” he murmurs, staring at the slick that’s just mindlessly dripping down your pussy. “something’s tellin’ me that my wife’s about to make a little mess.”

with a ‘pop’ - his dick departs from your lips and you inhale a breath, whimpering at the sudden pressure threatening to finally reach its peak. “satoru, something’s coming-” you mewled pathetically, reaching a hand back to grab at his unkempt white tresses. instinctively, his head leans further against your cunt and he huskily chuckles. “ ‘m gonna cum.”

“oh, i know,” he mumbles, luminous cerulean eyes fixating its gaze between your quaking thighs directly above him. satoru grabs at your doughy ass before sliding a finger back inside of your cunt again.

“go ‘head then,” and his voice was so deep - a lot silkier this time. you moaned, feeling another finger curl its way inside and he’s just slowly scissoring both digits inside of your soddened pussy. “c’mon angel, give it to me. you got it girl, riiide it all out on my tongue, mhm-”

at the low, husky cooing of his words - your pretty pitching orgasm rings through his ears.

right as you ended up squirting, you couldn’t stop the sweet little squeal that ran away from your trembling lips.

your teeth-shattering release loosens your shoulders before you whimpered, choking on your whimpers whilst you still felt him darting his tongue down your sappy entrance. “satoru, f- fuck, fuckk,” you’d trill whimperingly, continuing to feel him sloppily scrape his hot tongue through the outskirts of your pussy. “thankyouthankyou-”

“aw, you’re welcome,” satoru mumbles, noticing the slick moisture that was starting to stick down against your legs. your body still shook over him violently, and as you’re trying to recover from your recent finish, satoru gives your drooling cunt a kiss.

he even pats your wet folds with the back of his blindfold before giving your pretty pussy its last and final sloppy kiss.

“nice to hear my pretty girl’s still got manners at least heh.”

✩ ˛˚ . CHOSO KAMO

“princess,” choso sat up from between the sprawled heat of your thighs. as he licked his upper lip, from top to bottom, it was practically smeared with your shimmery essence. he’s been eating you out for hours probably, and with a glance out the window, it was already turning daylight. you looked down at him, still struggling to catch ragged, deep breaths before meeting his lust-filled gaze. choso gives your clit a single wet kiss before sheepishly grinning. “i wanna try 96. i saw it online and-”

“96?” you smiled, giving his head a soft pat. “don’t you mean 69?”

choso huffs, sitting up to lean into you. “yeah yeah, same thing,” and he brings his needy, hungry lips to yours. you returned the kiss, curling your tongue ‘round his while his cherry-mint taste exploded against your buds. “can we try?”

“okay-” you smiled against his lips. choso moaned once you playfully flicked his chest, making him flop back against the satiny-black sheets. he pulled your hips back toward his face while you wrapped a hand around his thick cock. it’s tip had a nice dark red shade, and he was still oozing a bit of pre-cum from just tasting you.

you arched your back at the most perfect angle, letting off an airy, mewl gasp once you felt his shallow breath of air against your cunt. already, choso felt himself salivating at the mouth once he single-handedly spreads your pussy with his thumb.

“oh… oh,” his expression goes slyly timid, and he even leans in to give your pussy a wet kiss. “you’re so pretty over me like this.” he whispers, watching the strings of slick messily stick onto its lips.

lazily, choso slouched back against the tottering bed frame before he wrapped an arm around your torso. he’s tenderly soft, aligning his parched mouth with your cunt as his tongue swiped its way against your clit. “m- mhm, just like that,” your voice shook, feeling his smoky breath glue against your skin.

choso was still in his boxers, and your brows curiously knit together - noticing his visible bulge that was damn near painfully poking through the cottony fabric. you arched your back just a little more, leaning in close before licking around the fat print of his bulge.

you could’ve sworn his dick twitched the second your tongue trailed itself over the fly part of his boxers. “p- princessss,” he hisses, reluctantly breaking away from your cunt to glance down at you. since you were turned the other way, he couldn’t really see much of you like he initially wanted and it made him pout. “don’t be a tease.”

“ask nicely then, baby.” you softly uttered, sliding a thumb down toward the gusset part, guiding it slightly up near the upper middle. it’s just poking out, and you could see a bit of a dampening dark-grey spot where his tip prodded at behind the fabric. choso grunts, feeling you cutely wriggle your ass against his face before he deeply sighs.

“f… fine,” he grits his teeth, dragging poised fingers down each of your wobbly thighs. “please just-” he swallows, feeling his boxers grow tighter after each nanosecond that passed. the air around him felt so hot, and he already knew he was leaking a bit of pre-cum just by your intimidating proximity.

fuck.

“please, pretty please,” choso goes back to lapping his tongue against your slick cunt, eating a sweet gasp from you. “pull my boxers down ‘n… do whatever, please, just make me mmh- feel good, princess.”

“good boy,” you mumbled, using a hand to spring out his thick cock. choso whined from your feverishly hot touch as he felt the edge of your dripping tongue skim its way around the crowned head. his tip’s a fiery blushing red, and as he presents a single kiss to your clit — he shudders underneath you. you use a thumb to rub over his slit before using a palm to wrap over his veiny cock. “mhm, how’s it feel?”

with both bodies against each other rhythmically moving in delayed sync, choso slipped off a strained whimper. “so good, s- so good, princess,” and his blurbs of whines get caught in between your cunt once he purses his swollen lips together. you moaned once choso latched his lips against your sticky pussy, giving your honeyed folds a needy, long slurp.

you brought your same thumb behind the head of his cock, slowly massaging it before lapping your tongue around a bit of his foreskin. underneath you, you heard choso’s breath get caught in his throat and it was quite cute how he forgot to breathe for a second. “more, more-”

“more please.”

“more… please.” choso repeats after you, damn near falling in love once he feels the sloppy reverse of your hand that’s softly twisting at his cock. you rocked your hips over his face as you continued, allowing a bit of shimmery spit to fall from your lips and dribble onto the crown of his plump shaft.

“m- mistress,” he hiccuped, feeling your hot mouth vacuum each side of his cock before giving his tip a slurping wet suck. “i mean mommy,” he moans again, feeling his lips quiver once he feels you licking near his tender frenulum. “i- fuck.”

you giggle at his stammering, dragging your tongue down a prominent vein that runs down the left side of his dick. choso’s running a hand through his matted black strands before he digs the top row of his teeth in his bottom lip. “you gonna cum for me, ‘cho?”

“yeah, ‘m gonna fuckin’ cummm,” he nods, staring down at the slick sides of your thighs that were just dripping with your wet mess.

choso couldn’t help but run his tongue down at the trail he created, happily relishing in your flavor before he felt himself about to burst - literally.

choso swirled his tongue inside of your pussy in exaggerated, tight circles ‘till you started to feel your legs trembling. he moans at the sight of you wriggling your ass against his face, and he even prods a thumb against your twitching clit that continuously pulsed from the numbing stimulation. “make me cum, yeah- make me f- feel good, pleaseplease-”

he continued to babble against your slick folds until he eventually came, shooting milky-white stripes of cum that messily sprayed against your hand. he’s shaking underneath you, moaning out your name in his raw hoarse voice before you started to lap the mess up.

“good hah- boy,” you breathed dryly, kissing all sides of his hooked cock. it just about fits in your palm perfectly, and he shuddered each time you toyed with his tender glands with the tip of your tongue. “did so good.”

“can you..” choso huffed weakly, a sheepish grin forming on his lips. you watched as his chest went up ‘n back down again while he was pawing clingy hands at both of your hips. you were about to turn around but he stops you, making you continue to face forward. “can you do t- that with your mouth again?” and choso aligns himself against your weeping pussy once more, coating your folds with a multitude of wet kisses.

“i think i like 96 now, h- heh.”

✩ ˛˚ . SUGURU GETO

geto’s a wild, untamed animal…

with him, he’ll leave you feeling sore for hours with all of your limbs feeling like they’re on the verge of falling right off. as he talked you through probably your third orgasm of the night, your knees buckled.

there was a long rectangular mirror that was propped up in front of you both too, mirroring every single coarse and filthy position he introduced your body to.

“f- fuuuck,” you whimpered, bringing your hips to a slowing halt as he was still buried deep inside of you. geto’s laid beneath you, staring at the ridden bouncy flesh of your ass grinding against his sharpened pelvis. his cock deeply dragged its way through your cunt, sloppily massaging your walls before you bit your lip. “fuck, sugu- ‘m still c- cumming-”

“i know,” he huffs, watching your limp body shake as your back turns the opposite way of him. your hands rested on his knees, and he couldn’t help but steal glimpses at your ass that swayed itself against him. “and i want a taste.” swiftly, he lifts you, spinning you around before pulling your legs back. you moaned, feeling his spit-glossed lips decorate a path of kisses down your tepid thighs.

dark, lust-filled eyes studied your jerking movements before he positioned you to align your ass to hover over his face.

you sucked in a windy breath, feeling geto’s tongue wetly flicks its way against your pussy and you quickly craned your head to look at him, only to feel his palm whack against your ass.

“ah, ahhh- eyes on the pretty girl up front,” geto gruffly reminds you, slightly turning your head to stare at the reflection of yourself in his propped up mirror. “all you need to worry about is keepin’ this pretty ass up for me.”

“but-”

“but-” he mocks your tone, surprising your cunt with a wet kiss, causing you to whimper. geto unapologetically spits against your glistening heat before lapping it right back up again, circling the pad of this thumb ‘round your pulsating clit. “but nothing, have some manners, sweetheart. you’ve done enough talking for the night,” and geto hums, dipping his thumb inside of your cunt with ease before gluing his lips against your core once more. instantly, slippery squelches wetly sing from between your legs and you whine, glancing at yourself in the mirror. “but she’s always got something to add, cute.”

while geto’s occupied by being between your thighs, your eyes land down at his cock. and oh, was it always so, so pretty.

his tip had a bit of a tan, and before you knew it, your spit-dribbling lips were already wrapping ‘round his fat length. “mmhhm-” you moaned, swirling your tongue over one of the many veins that prodded down his cock. he’s still got his lips latched to your pussy, rummaging the pointed tip of his tongue through every convulsing orifice ‘till you damn near screamed all three pretty syllables of his name.

in his mind, you looked ethereal like this - bent over and arched on all fours.

every time you squirmed, he sucked harder against your cunt and you were at a loss for words every time. “my tongue, pretty girl,” geto grumbles, clawing a hand at your right ass cheek. he sharply spanks it twice, hearing your sweet mewling sobs in front of him before he hoarsely groans. “fuckin’ ride on it for me, ‘m so thirsty.” and you let off muffled noises of your own, rolling your hips back. as geto’s tongue stayed lolled out, your pussy ferociously dragged itself against the flatness of his tongue.

his tastebuds never felt so hot. you moaned, feeling the middle of his tongue curls itself back before laying flat again.

you whimpered, using a hand to stroke his veiny cock while you continued to messily bob yourself up ‘n down. you’re even sloppy yourself, feeling the slippery beads of saliva pour from the corners of your lips.

after each slurp, his cock moderately grows in your mouth. “mmngh-” you moaned with your lashes momentarily shut, feeling his tip abruptly slap its way against the roof of your mouth. within minutes, your chin was starting to shine with your saliva and you only wanted more.

“that’s my girl, fuck,” geto groans against your pussy that drenched him from his nose to his pointed chin. with two clammy hands, geto pulls your hips back a bit once he watches you squirm. immediately, your hips buckled and flopped against his chest with his dick still keeping the left inside of your cheek company. “mmgh-”

minutes pass with you still taking geto’s hefty cock in your mouth with his lips still greedily attached to your cunt. the both of you came at an overwhelming high so fast that you could almost taste your orgasmic finish on the tip of your tongue. as geto continued to lap at the remnants of dripping saliva that tried to pour down your slit, he’s feeling his shaft tighten by the second. not even a nanosecond passed before a raw, throaty groan leaves from him.

“oh, f- fuck,” he stammers, and he’s cumming - hard, aiming straight at the back of your throat. his hips fiercely piston along with your own hips madly shaking over his laid-out tongue.

it’s got a bitterly sweet tang that makes you hum, feeling geto moderately pour his mess inside your mouth. you softly twisted his veiny length with one hand before lewdly popping his dick from between your slickly-wet lips.

“mhm,” you hummed, still panting as you took a second to swallow. geto was literally melting underneath you, and he had to keep pushing away the sticky black strands that glued to his forehead. “suguru-”

“damn,” he mumbles, a sleazy pussy-drunk grin plastered on his face. through the reflection of the mirror, you saw geto lay down, buried between your legs with both hands grabbing at each part of your ass. he laps his tongue up your glossed slit before giving your cunt a few open-mouthed kisses. “mhm, thank you.”

“for wh-”

“quiet, baby,” he hoarsely whispers, taking a few thick fingers down your puffy entrance. your back remained arched as you moaned, feeling the warmth of his breath tickle against your dewy core.

geto then sat up, reeling your hips back toward his face before spanking your ass for probably the nth time.

“give me just one more, ‘m still so hungry..”

✩ ˛˚ . SUKUNA RYŌMEN

continuously - sukuna’s snatched out multiple orgasms from you ‘till you could barely even mutter out audible, coherent words. he’s just so big, especially in his true form where the word 'stamina' was practically non-existent to him.

“you, get up here,” he slouched back against his throne as you were still heavily panting. you were sitting on his lap, still feeling that quavering shake between your legs after you finished riding him. “i wanna try somethin'.”

“okay-” you’d breathlessly sigh with droopy eyes. sukuna snickers behind you, and he eventually helps you up. brawny, beefy arms wrap ‘round you securely before suddenly, you find yourself upside down on his king-sized bed. your eyes enlarged to the size of saucers, and upon instinct, your hands grab onto his sprawled-out knees. “ ‘kuna, don’t drop me!”

“ ‘m not,” he rasps with an eye roll, spreading your feeble legs apart. a gust of balmy wind sets against your sloppy cunt and you whimpered. you could just feel the cold, sinister yet silent state of sukuna’s eyes focusing primarily between your legs. you’re still so wet, and he gives your drooling entrance a single kiss. “sit on my stomach, trust me.”

time stands still as you’re propped up just below sukuna’s chest with your body facing the opposite way. you tried to sit up, only for him to crisply slap a palm against your left ass cheek. “down, girl,” he snarled, and you gasped once you suddenly felt something appear and rub underneath your thighs — his stomach mouth - oh, you sometimes literally forgot he could create extra mouths on his body.

sukuna hums in carnal virility, bringing his forked stomach tongue towards your dripping opening before sloppily stealing the first wet lick.

you were oh-so-sweet, sweet as honey as he relished your glacé-tasting flavor. the moment sukuna used two hands to steady your hips, you moaned. the other two unoccupied hands went down, stretching the mouth on his stomach apart much wider while you took your seat on his ‘throne’ - his tongue.

the tongue wetly rolled itself out, delving inside of your pussy and it was just so careless. “f- fuuuck-” you whined, already bucking your hips against his ripped abdomen.

it was just so risqué.

sukuna was no stranger to eating you out but it was a lot different with his stomach tongue.

from the very pink tip, it’s drooling from your sweetened taste alone, and you’re already spasming. it’s so long too, and your eyes widened once you started to feel the delicious stretch of his tongue within no time.

“arch more for me, bend,” he gruffly murmured, trailing his crimson-red eyes down toward your squirming waist. you arch forward, staring at his dick in front of you and noticing how each prodding vein twitched through his skin. he sighed deeply, feeling your tongue lap its way against each prominent vein before he spanked your ass. “dirty girl, can’t help but get a taste too, hm?”

“suku-”

slap.

another loud spank interrupts you, and your trembly incoming words transform into a full-throated moan. you whimpered, still hearing the sloppy sloshes of your cunt as his stomach tongue continued. after another slap comes, the skin of your ass ricochet against his palm and you heard him groan from behind you. “fuck,” sukuna grumbles, compressing his pink brows together. your jolting body above him continued to writhe as the slimy tongue on his stomach continued to slide itself near your tender clit.

drops of shimmery dew pooled down your slit as you aligned your lips around his fat hefty cock. a glossy tear of pre-cum dribbles its way from his tip and you licked it instantly, humming at the bittersweet taste that clashes against your buds.

“mmgh, ‘kuna,” you moaned between greedy slurps, using a hand to grab near his full base. he groaned, feeling the tip of your thumb stroke down a prodding vein. his entire body from top to bottom was primarily decorated with his ancient markings and was now covered in glistening sweat.

“ ‘m not gonna hah- last,” you whimpered, gasping once you felt the forked tip of his lower stomach tongue repeatedly flicks its way at your sensitive nub. every languid pant you puffed out felt like it was going to be your last, and you were counting the seconds ‘till your sweet reverie would finally come.

“well yeah, you never do,” he grunts, feeling the wetness of your mouth linger over his plump cockhead.

sukuna’s domain was eerily quiet - except, the only sounds that could be heard were his extra tongue and your slick, sloppy squelches that reverbed through his royal chambers. he felt you cutely scooting yourself back ‘n forth against his stomach while you were partially taking him in his mouth. you tried, and you batted your lashes before moaning once you felt his dick twitch again against your wet tongue.

eagerly, your frantic hips buckled before you removed your naturally-glossed lips from his shaft, cutely craning your head back for a quick peek. “nosy little girl,” he reaches forward, slightly making you face forward. “nothing for you to see.”

you pout, facing the same way you were before as his tongue continued. quickly, your little pout turned into a more lewd look as your jaw started to drop. in milliseconds, your poor, empty brain was turning into mush as you felt all types of elation spike through your veins. “sukunaaa-” you whined, biting your lip once his stomach tongue ruthlessly stretched itself even more inside of you. you were grinding against his chiseled abdomen, feeling the sticky sap of your mess glue down your sprawled legs before you let off a yelping clamor. “i’m gonna-”

your sweet, belting words were interrupted by a gasp that ripped from your near-sounding hoarse windpipe. you slouched forward, feeling your poor legs grow limp as the tongue sloppily dragged a path near your hole before trailing back down towards your sopping pussy. you were speechless with half-open eyelids draping, barely holding themselves open.

“s- shit,” you whimpered through shaky lips, feeling your entire body reaching near its end. sukuna grabbed your hips, making you swirl your ass around his stomach one more time. “oh, my g- god.”

“hmph,” the demon grumbled, glancing down at his extra tongue that even licked the wet crevices of its mouth clean. you had a good portion of his stomach covered wholly with your lustrous slick, and within a second, the tongue retreated, flopping itself back into its mouth. “you could use a bit more training.”

“training?” you breathed, still feeling your legs tremble as a wind of fresh air forced its way out of your lungs. you slumped forward in defeat, whimpering silently as a prurient wave of static shock surged through your limp body.

sukuna snickers, lifting you before pulling you back up on his lap. “yeah, training,” he repeats roughly, and he suddenly sits himself up on his bed.

as he takes a three-second glance at your body with his rouge-colored eyes, sukuna spins you around. you slipped off a gasp, moaning once he started to bring your legs up. he brought one of his hands down toward your dripping pussy before giving it a soft pat. “we can start by working on your flexibility,” and you moaned, feeling sukuna’s lower arms lift you with his other set of arms squeezing at your bare breasts.

he’s aligning you over his cream-covered tip before you feel another tip poke its way against your inner thighs. you almost forgot how he could just duplicate any part of his body, and you already could just taste how stretched you were about to get.

“upsie-daisy,” he grunts, pulling you up with such strength before he gifts your wet pussy its second slap. you whimpered, babbling faint whines of his name before sukuna lightly nipped his fangs into the left side of your neck.

“mhm, fuck- now open up for your king like a good obedient girl.”

✩ ˛˚ . NANAMI KENTO

nanami groaned, intently eyeing the creamy-white mess that dribbled down the left side of his cock. “mmgh- sweetheart,” he swallows, dragging a hand through his neatly-parted blond hair. you moaned as you straddled him in his home office chair that squeaked each second you put your thighs to work. “wait a minute, bend over the desk for me, sweetheart.”

“okay.” humming sweetly, you removed yourself from his lap before leaning over his worn-down, groaning desk. nanami gnawed on his bottom lip as he slouched at his desk, bringing a thumb towards your stuffed cunt.

“now, look at thaaat,” he huskily utters, gradually trailing the tip of his pointer finger down your drooling slit. it’s probably been about the third time of the night that he’s stuffed you, and he grunts once he sees the cute ‘lil wriggle of your impatient hips. instantly, your ass jiggles and nanami brings a soft kiss to the right cheek of your ass. “get on the desk, my love. ‘m still a little thirsty.”

he helped position you on the desk with him laying flat back against the worn-out wooden furniture. you slumped over him, poking your ass just above his face with you facing the other direction.

“k- kentooo-” you whimpered, gasping once you felt his tongue already lapping at your glistening slick cunt. piles of nanami’s documents packets that scattered everywhere fell to the floor once you aligned yourself. you held back a whimper, feeling his tongue sloppily flick itself down your slick opening.

you moaned, feeling the cold band of his watch tickles its way against your skin. as you leaned forward, your spit-drooling lips wrapped their way around his scarlet red tip. “my, look at how it all just spills out,” murmured, feeling his dick twitch at the milky masses of cum that oozed down your sopping entrance.

once nanami brought his lips back toward your cunt, he wetly dips it inside before dragging it down to flick itself against each sensitive nerve stored inside you. “mhm, my pretty girl can’t help but taste so sweet when she’s filled to the brim.”

“f- fuck, ‘ken,” you’d dig the top row of your teeth down on your bottom lip, feeling and hearing him slurp up every ounce of molten pools of his cum drizzling down your clit. as you faced forward, you looked down at his veiny cock that stood tall.

nanami’s business slacks were pulled down, and your eyes couldn’t help but linger at his blond happy trail that decorated a good portion of his abdomen. “don’t s… stop-” you mewled, bringing your quivering lips toward his strawberry-colored tip.

with a single wet lick, you swirled the tip of your tongue ‘round the crown of his leaking head before pressing sloppy kisses near the bulky, veiny sides. nanami lets off a heady groan, slipping thick raw moans between your legs, and his lips were starting to glue against your wet pussy. as you started to take him into your mouth, nanami slips a thick middle finger in between your weeping folds.

“move yourself against my tongue, sweetheart, mhm.” he throatily whispers, using his other hand to bring a soft, teasing smack toward the left cheek of your ass. you leaned forward, whimpering once you felt your feverish cunt drag itself back and forth against the flatness of his salivating tongue.

nanami was a starved man, and he loved more than anything for you to quench his thirst with your sweet, honeyed taste.

like most times, he could barely fit inside, and once his bulbous-shaped tip hit against the roof of your mouth, you let off a muffled moan. your eyes prettily rolled way back at the feeling of both his thumb and tongue prodding inside of you.

“ ‘m s- so close, kento,” you whined, occasionally popping his tip from between your swollen lips every few seconds to speak. your hips cutely threw themselves back against his face, and nanami’s just effortlessly lapping up every glittery drop that trickled from your slit. “right there, fuck, fuck, please-”

“c’mon, sweetheart, be a good girl ‘n give it to me,” nanami airily gruffs, staring at his stringy webby globs of saliva that stuck against your cunt. he’s diving in face first, hungrily jackhammering his tongue in between your puffed folds continuously non-stop.

you couldn’t help but grind yourself back against his tongue while you kept bobbing your head.

the position alone was so crude, not to mention over his home desk - but nanami couldn't care less. he felt you starting to spasm and he hummed, bringing three wet kisses against your pulsing clit. once you loudly ‘popped’ his tip from your lips yet again, you started to whine out cooing little babbles and nanami sweetly cut you off, “shh, i know. where’s my wet girl? it’s okay, you got it, just let go for me. i’ll clean my messy girl riiight up, promise.”

callused, big hands tenderly spread your ass apart as you trembled above his body. the poor wooden desk the both of you laid on was creaking noisily. the old furniture sounded like it was pushing its limit as your thighs were tensing after each unpredictable swirl of his tongue.

a hot, pooling sensation curled its way inside of the lower pit of your stomach ‘till your eyes eventually crossed inward. “oh, f… fuuckk,” you whimpered sweetly, shuddering once you started to feel yourself violently convulsing on nanami’s flat tongue.

your euphorically elated release hits you roughly, slamming into your face first like a truck - and he’s still slowly guiding his tongue up ‘n down your glistening slick while you spasmed.

your senses were fully heightened as pretty inaudible whines drew from your lips. nanami’s blond brows knit together as he licked you clean, even grabbing his handkerchief from the small pocket of his casual dress shirt to wipe against his mouth.

“good girl…. my hah-good girl,” he purrs lowly, briefly sitting up to see you still perfectly arched over him. “heh, you know how to make a mess out of me,” and nanami gives your clit its final departing kiss before softly rubbing the silver band of his ring down your slippery folds.

for a split second, nanami’s browned eyes avert down towards your twitching pussy before he sees it still dripping with sap right before his eyes. he hums before playfully dragging your hips back toward his face, propping you right back on his mouth.

“but ah, don’t run now, silly girl. ‘m not done with you yet. work can wait, my wet wife can’t. now sit.”

12K notes · View notes

lil-sweater-slut · 2 months ago

Text

“would you die for me?”

you’re laying on sukuna’s bare chest, fingers tracing the dark ink of his tattoos. he scoffs, glancing from his phone down to you before rolling his eyes.

“why would i be dying?”

“like… I don’t know, would you jump in front of a bullet to save me?”

“obviously.”

you huff out a bit of laughter.

“you would?”

his red eyes meet yours, a bored look in them.

“yes idiot, i would jump in front of a bullet to save you.”

“that’s so sweet.”

“yeah i know, boyfriend of the year,” sukuna grumbles, going back to his phone.

it’s silent for another moment before you think of something else.

…

“would you… kill for me?”

his grip on you tightens for a minute and he sets his phone down. one rough hands comes up and clasps your chin, lifting your eyes to meet his.

“do i need to?”

your eyes widen slightly, gulping at the intensity in his.

“i… well no… not right now, i just wondered if you would.”

“yes.”

he releases your jaw and your head drops back to his chest. he goes back to his phone as your heart pounds a little harder in your chest.

…

“… ‘kuna?”

“yeah?”

“would you still love me if i was a worm?”

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lil-sweater-slut · 2 months ago

Note

hear me out- HEAR ME OUT- rivals satoru and suguru where they’ve been fighting each other over dumb shit since middle school and competing for better grades, whatever.

and one of them has a crush on you… so the other fucks you first. and sends pics/ maybe even is on call with the other??

this is evil i fear

- ⭐️

cw: m@ting press, mentions of bre3ding, dub con? sorta, phone s3x sorta?, m@sturbation, rivalry, bi suguboo and satoru :3

i hope this lives up to ur expectations at least a lil bit😭

satoru and suguru, had known each other forever, for as long as they could remember. They had also been competing for EVERYTHING as long as they could remember.

satoru had always been number one at everything he ever tried, sports, cooking, gaming, welding, hell anything you could think of, he’d tried it and mastered in no time. It would drive suguru up a wall.

But there was one thing satoru could never beat him at… charming a woman. Sure he could get one in bed easy, no problem, but when he actually liked a woman? oh he was fucked. That is to say, he practically had ZERO actual game, no matter his looks or status, especially since it was YOU.

Someone who wasn’t fascinated by his wealth, talent or status. The very reason he fell for you, the moment his status and wealth didn’t woo you, it was like something clicked in place for him, something chanted over and over in his mind "her, its her" and from the moment he AND his rival realized, he knew he was screwed.

Suguru however? oh this is his specialty. His natural flirtatious behavior and laid back demeanor, combined with all that damn smooth talking he does, he could have any woman within a ten mile radius, head over heels for him in 48 hours flat. He was just that good. It was the thing he prided himself most on, the one thing he could do, that his rival could not.

he’d caught sight of how satoru stared at you on campus, the yearning— longing in his gaze. the way his cheeks would tint pink whenever you walked past him without a care in the world, because to you, satoru wasn’t even on your radar.

it wasn’t until suguru noticed his white haired rival picking up on his moves, similar jokes, smirks and flirtation tactics— that he officially had set you in his sights. no way was he gonna get the girl with his fucking moves.

it started as just the usual, antagonistic, petty rivalry at first. he never planned to take it too far, just flirt with you enough to let his enemy know to fuck off with using what he deemed rightfully his. he didn’t even want you—though somewhere along the way he noticed the way your lashes fluttered when you spoke to him, the way your gloss sat on your lips and your shy smile when you listened to him and— holy shit the way your tits sat on your chest, just perfect. fuckin perfect.

it didn’t take long for you to give in to him and all his charms. not because you were easy, no but because he was too good at this, too charming, too laid back, too addictive. something about him had you craving every bit of his attention, affection and god his touch, you wanted him so bad, more than you’d care to admit out loud, your inner voice screamed at you “more more more more” until finally you caved and found yourself in your current situation.

he had you pent up beneath him, legs spread wide and slung over his shoulders, your body folded like a lawn chair in the meanest mating press he could manage, his hands on either side on your body as he slung his hips forward over and over and over. bed creaking under the sheer weight of both your bodies. wooden mast of the headboard banging against your bedroom walls. god, your poor neighbors.

his angry mushroomy tip hitting spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed until now. your maw slacking open to whine out “s-sugu s’too much! can’t t-take it!” your head was spinning, your velvety walls hugging him tight, greedy cunt pulling him in deeper as you cunt wept around his shaft and he hissed at the bliss of pleasure. “you c-can take it pre-pretty girl—hah…fuck” his hair pulled out of his messy bun, raven locks swaying with the mass of his moving body, as he fucked you deeper deeper deeper with every thrust. “s’all wet like this f’me hm?” he grunted as he moved a hand to swipe at your puffy lips, covered in your own thick, clear arousal, bringing his fingers back up and stretching them apart to look at the glistening string of your essence between them before shoving the digits in his mouth, groaning as he savored your taste. “mmmm so fuckin’ good, pussy so sweet.”

you only crooned in response as his veins swept over every orifice of your gummy insides deliciously. tummy bulging slightly from the monstrous size of his weighted cock as he bullied the hilt of your cunt. eyes rolling back as that ball of heat built slowly in your lower tummy with every plap plap plap! of his hips against yours. “suguuu! m’gonna cummm!”you cried out as a thin sheen of sweat began to form on your skin, as the squelching noises of your greedy cunt, your moans and his grunts filled the room. through the haze of lust and sex in the room, your phone buzzes from your nightstand and had it not lit up, suguru would’ve missed it, but oh- oh, he could not miss the name that popped up on the screen.

“satoru 🩵”

he was calling and oh he had the biggest shit eating grin plastered on his face as he reached for the phone and put it up to his ear, between his shoulder and cheek, answering. "hey gorgeous was just calling to see if you maybe-" his rivals voice rasped out before he cut him off "she's busy." he grunted as his hips never slowed.

for a moment he sat in silence at the sound of sugurus voice, denial settling in his bones, but the unmistakable sound of skin slapping against skin, whines and cries sounding off in the background— he had you, fuck, he actually had you, and sounding like that? satoru hated to admit it was making him unimaginably hard as he huffed through his nostrils on the other end of the line. “you fuckin’-”only to be cut off by suguru yet again, hissing at the way your pussy clenched around him, your orgasm on the horizon as you whimpered underneath him “hold on, gotta m-make her cum first, why don’t you just s-sit tight and enjoy the show?” he panted out as he tossed the phone back on the dresser leaving his rival to hear how he put you through the mattress from the other end of the line.

he yanked you down the bed, pulling you more onto his dick, every crevice of your poor cunt so filled with him you swore you were seeing stars and he was he in your lungs. his arms snaked around your waist as he tilted your lower half up and leaned his body forward just a tad more to find that reallll special spot inside, your mouth forming an “o” shape as he hit it “ah there it is” he smirked as he pistoned his hips roughly, pulling sounds from you, you didn’t even know you could make.

satoru from the other end of the phone, would never admit to the way he yanked his pants and boxers down at the sound of your moans and cries. the way his cock pearled thick beads of shiny pre-cum at the tip just from hearing the way you sounded— so desperate, so pretty.

no he would never admit that he muted himself on the call and fisted his cock so pathetically and angrily as he listened to the one man he couldn’t stand most, fuck you silly, the way he should be. he’d never admit how he was picturing your body and— sugurus too? as his hips bucked up into his hand, pumping his cock, moaning and whining desperately as he tried to match the strokes suguru was giving you.

and god he’d never admit that he came so hard from listening to the sounds his rival made when he came, the grunts and moans that sent him over the edge as hot spurts of his seed spilled out of him and into his hand while sugurus spilled inside of you, because your greedy cunt wouldn’t let him pull out in time or so he claimed.

he didn’t need to admit it though, because while he may have thought he muted the call, he didn’t, and suguru couldn’t miss the faint grunts emanating from the other end of the phone as he picked it up right after finishing “you know, if you want a threesome, you should just ask.”and with that, he hung up.

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for like a month or two bc i forgot i wrote it i’m sooo sorry if it’s, terrible i did notttt proofread it😭

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lil-sweater-slut · 3 months ago

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A Gift from Home

Satoru's fingers froze on the screen. He had been incessantly spamming you for the last five minutes with pictures of every souvenir he had bought for you and Suguru . Keeping it a surprise was never an option for him. However, as he was about to ask if you wanted something specific from Osaka, a video popped up in the chat. The thumbnail was clearly a corner of his room back home. For some reason, his heart skipped a beat. What could it be? A stiff feeling was growing in his pants as his mind raced back to the occasional pictures and videos you would send him when he was away on missions.

"Let's show Satoru what he's missing out."

Suguru's voice was the first thing to be heard on the recording as he pressed the play button. His pupils grew over the light blue of his iris, the serene shade of clear sky glowing with lust. The sweet, languid tone of Suguru's voice was enough for him to know what was going on, even though he could only see the floor of his own room. Satoru's free hand moved to his lap, resting over his growing cock. The sound of things hitting against each other and falling to the floor in the video gave him enough time to unzip his pants and pull down the fabrics covering his aching length. A soft, almost inaudible mewl of your voice hit his ears and his cock twitched, overly sensitive.

"Shhh"

Suguru's soothing voice responded to your frustrated sigh. The camera was moving around chaotically showing the nightstand, the closed door and the floor.

"Don't move yet, love. Let me prop this here."

Even though he couldn't see a thing, Satoru's imagination was running wild just with the sound of your voices. He clumsily ran his thumb over the tip of his cock already smeared with precum. The screen went black but the video kept running. Wet sounds of loud kissing echoed in Satoru's ears and he let his head fall back, groaning, as his fingers moved to the base of his cock. His pulse was booming in his chest and more importantly in every vein that ran along his length. Your moans against the other man's lips had him bucking his hips, thrusting his cock in his hand. The amused, teasing chuckle that came in response from Suguru felt as if it was directed towards him specifically, like he could see the pathetic state a few wet sounds and a black screen had him into. Satoru's teeth sank into his lower lip as the screen glitched and the back camera switched to the front one, finally revealing the two of you.

"Fuck"

Satoru breathed out as he took in every detail of the scene on his screen. The phone was clearly on his nightstand, propped against the lamp, probably. He could see your gorgeous naked body from the side as you were straddling Suguru, who was comfortably laying with his back against the headboard, looking into the camera with the dirtiest, most mischievous look. One of your hands was laying flat against his chest while your other arm was wrapped around his neck, you fingers probably a fistful of his long, black, silky hair. Noticing Suguru's gaze, you turned your head to the camera too. Satoru almost came at the clear sight of your fucked out expression, your eyes clouded with lust and your parted lips swollen and abused already. He swallowed the knot in his throat loudly, his finger frantically searching the pause button so he could take a closer look at the curve of your ass in Suguru's lap, the way your full tits were pressed against his toned chest, the bite marks all over his neck, the large, veiny hand sprawled over one of your ass cheeks. God, how Satoru wished he was there instead of this stupid hotel room. He pressed play once again.

"Hurry home, Satoru."

A guttural groan escaped him as an uncontrollable reaction to Suguru's words. Precum was dripping over his fingers as he pumped his cock at a faster pace, feeling his pulse throb under his fingers.

"We've spoiled this princess so rotten that I can't satisfy her by myself." He continued, a hand gently tugging a strand of hair behind your ear in a sweet, gentle gesture.

"Oh, shut up." You hissed and pushed his hand away from your hair, guiding it back to your ass.

You leaned in, locking lips with Suguru once again as your hips started boucing on his cock. The thought that all this time he had been inside you made Satoru incredibly sexually frustrated and overwhelmingly needy, the feeling of his hand around his cock not pleasuring enough. Scandalous sounds of skin slapping against skin echoed over the muffled moans. The tantilizing way your body was was undulating against Suguru had his blue eyes glued open to the screen, as much as he wanted to let his heavy lids close and chase his orgasm. He wanted to see every moment, every second of it. He felt his mouth water as Suguru ducked his face down, catching your nipple between his lips, earning a loud moan in response. As your head was leaned back, eyes shut, focused solely on your own pleasure while bouncing on Suguru's cock, his eyes were slightly open, looking sideways into the camera with the most smug expression written over them as he sucked and flicked his tongue over your sensitive nipples.

"Such a fucking tease."

Satoru grunted in pathetic jealousy, feeling his release approaching nonetheless. However, a part of him didn't want to come just yet. His hand movements slowed down, edging his orgasm away as he paid full attention to the video. By now, two large hands were glued to your hips, fingers digging into the soft fat at your sides as Suguru encouraged your movements to be faster and deeper. Your own nails had left marks all over his chest and shoulders already. You didn't seem to care that the phone was recording or that Satoru was witnessing how shamlessly cock drunk you were. Maybe this shamelessness was exactly what made his own cock twitch. However, Suguru, the culprit behind this whole dirty mess, was very vocal in making sure everyone was included no matter how far apart.

"You squeeze me out so good, baby."

He breathed out between grunts of pleasure and Satoru's cock ached in the absence of your sweet cunt to be buried inside of.

"Too bad Satoru isn't here to keep your mouth busy."

Inevitably, the thought of your sweet and warm mouth around his cock had Satoru whining pathetically, his hand speeding up in a messy and angry motion along his length.

"Or take you from behind the way you like it."

As he spoke, Suguru grabbed a fistful of your hair, forcing your head back to expose your neck. You moaned, half in pain half in pleasure as, without a doubt, his filthy words were having the same effect on you as they had on Satoru himself.

"Suguru ngh- fuck"

You moaned loudly, completely forgetting whatever it was you initially wanted to say because his arms wrapped around you, pulling your bodies impossibly closer, the tip of his cock hitting the right spot inside you over and over again.

"Yeah, baby. You're close, I know."

Satoru's head was spinning, probably because all the blood in his body was rushing through his aching cock, bringing him so close to release. Or at least that's how it felt when his eyes rolled to the back of his head, Suguru's strained, guttural voice speaking to both you and him.

"Won't you be a good girl and help Satoru cum?"

The groan that came out of his chest was feral. He took one last look at the screen, at the way your naked and sweaty bodies rubbed against each other, wishing he was there too. There was nothing sensual or controlled about your movements anymore. You were grinding feverishly, toes curled and body tense, doing anything it took to reach your high. He'll be there soon enough to remind you how well he can fuck you. How your greedy cunt was made to take both him and Suguru at the same time.

With that, he let his eyelids flutter closed, the only sensation he could feel in his body being the weight of his balls rounded full of his seed and the throbbing of his cock under his fingers.

"Come on, baby."

Suguru urged you again when you didn't seem to obey, a slap of his heavy palm on your ass reverberating at the same time with your moans. Satoru was sure, even with his eyes tightly shut, that your back arched in the most delicious way.

"Satoru, please-"

"Fuck" He groaned, your choked whimpers pushing him over the edge.

"Keep going."

Suguru growled against your skin, his lips leaving messy and sloppy kisses all over your neck.

"Right there, fuck, Satoru, right there!"

His whole body felt like it was burning. The phone fell from his grip, forgotten between the sheets, as the only thing he needed now was the sound of your pathetic pleas and Suguru's muffled moans against your skin. Instead, his free hand brushed the hair off his forhead, damp with sweat and sticking to his skin. Suguru's uncontrollable grunts were a clear sign he was close too. The previously quiet hotel room was filled with a filthy variety of sounds. Good thing he didn't have the time to order room service yet.

"I need your cock inside me, Satoru, please."

It was too much even for him. He didn't know how much of the video was left but there was no way he could avoid the thick ropes of cum that shot out of his cock at the sound of you begging for it. Sparks erupted behind his eyelids with the force of his orgasm hitting his entire body and his fingers now coated in white and sticky cum lazily pumped his cock a few more times, milking out every drop of pleasure left.

By the time his ears weren't booming with the sound of his heartbeat anymore, he grabbed the phone again to see the video was still playing. You were breathing heavily on top of Suguru while he was gently rubbing your back and holding you close, seemingly unaware of the camera anymore.

He missed both of you so damn much.

It was your hand that reached out for the phone on the nightstand. With the camera above your face you checked the state of your fucked out self, the messy hair, the swollen lips, the still intact eye make up, the blooming marks on your neck. Satoru felt his cock shyly growing hard again at the sight of your pretty face.

"Yes, you're pretty, stop rubbing it in his face."

Suguru seemed to be thinking the same thing as he tried to reach out and grab the phone from your hands.

"I'm talking to my boyfriend!" You slapped his hand away but he didn't seem to be giving up.

A soft whine left your lips as Suguru's cock slightly moved inside your cunt while he was trying to snatch the phone away from your grip. You tried pushing him away to no avail, his strong arms holding you close, his deep purple eyes looking into the camera.

"He's my boyfriend too."

"And we both miss you very much." You said, blowing Satoru a kiss through the phone.

"I'll give Yaga hell for giving you two missions back to back."

Satoru chuckled softly at Suguru's words. Indeed, one mission was bearable but two lenghty missions back to back away from his pretty girlfriend and his handsome boyfriend was too much for him.

The recording eded abruptly leaving Satoru sighing in disappointment. Luckily tomorrow morning he will be on his way back home.

Masterlist

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lil-sweater-slut · 4 months ago

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BOUND TO BE ⟢⸻ Ryomen Sukuna

cw ──★ NSFW, MDNI, husband & wife dynamics, established relationship, fem reader, descriptions of fem anatomy, m! masturbation, spanking, spit stuff (i am fully down this rabbit hole), cum play, breeding, headlock, arguments, rough sex, manhandling, i cannot remember anything else.

a/n: when i am a chill guy and i try to divorce my husband for fun.

Trying to divorce your husband, Sukuna, is hard.

Because it does not matter how much effort you put into packing up your most essential belongings, making arrangements to stay with a friend for a while, and getting a lawyer to serve him; it all sums up to be null.

Sure he gets served with the papers, but he's sending you a picture of the documents all shredded up by his German shepherds. And a text that follows,

“You know I hate reading.” 11.45 AM, Read.

But he definitely read those papers. He hated them more than any piece of paper he has ever read. And he hates reading to begin with! So he did the most convenient thing and simply destroyed them.

Hence, when you call to yell at him, it changes nothing. And even if you still have a set of the same documents, or if you warn him that you will send those papers again, and how he better keep them intact this time—all that he hears is your pretty voice yelling at him, but he has no idea exactly what you were even saying. But damn did you sound great just burning his ears. Cursing him out for everything and anything you can, calling him an asshole, and hanging up on him with a ‘fuck you’.

He knows that the blows are not going to get any softer if you knew what he was doing right now.

It is not even that he is thinking about anything particularly lewd when he gets bricked up in the middle of the day, it is just the kind of effect you have on him. He is sitting in his office chair, hard as a rock in his pants, and telling his secretary to cancel the board meeting. So he can jerk off while listening to the audio recording of the call he just had with you.

Ryomen Sukuna has no shame in whipping his cock out of his slacks, leaning back in his very expensive chair, in his very spacious office; spitting on his cock, and jerking it off, with nothing and no one, but his wife on his mind. The recording of the call he just had with you playing on repeat in the background, and you yelling and shouting at him all angry just makes his wrists pick up the pace.

His mind wanders off to daydreaming about how he would bend you over his desk, and slap your ass and cunt until it's red and stinging. How he would only rub his cock in your juices and tease your hole with a little taste and pull away, until you stop whining and groaning and go straight to yelling at him, like you did on the phone. How he would like to put you in a headlock, and have you drool on the gathered up sleeves tightly bunched up on his biceps, and leave a patch on it.

How your eyes would gloss over and roll back in the inside of your head, and all the yelling and shouting would get stuck in the back of your throat because how good it’d feel to have his warm body weigh you down on the cool surface of his desk. As he thrusts into your cunt mercilessly, until your cervix is bruised, and your walls remember the shape of him. How he will have your cunt clenching to keep all of his seed safe inside your womb, along with his cock, tightening around it and making it difficult for him to pull out. Just how he would clean you up and pick you up in his arms, and drive back home, to fuck you on you two’s bed, until you are well bred and full of noting but his cum.

The squelching sound of his precum and spit—helping him slide his hands around his cock faster and with ease—could never compare to your cunt making sweet sweet noises when he is thrusting in her, the wetness cannot be even compared, and the way your walls hug him tight, warm, and snug; cannot be replaced with anything else.

So how can he just let his wife leave him?

He is a firm man.

He has always been so, with firm beliefs and convictions. And it is part of the reason why you fell in love with him, to even stay married to him for over a decade. But everything has its limits, and you are only a human. Being able to hold your ground may be one thing, but being inflexible to the point that you push away your own wife, is another.

Unfortunately Sukuna did not know the answer to perfect equilibrium.

And hence, he is in this situation. Trying to give space to his wife, for once, when she actually needs it. Instead of pushing himself into her space when she didn't need him to do that, and withdraw when she tried to reach out to him. For once Sukuna has done the right thing.

Until he did not.

Driving down to your friend's place, to take you back with him, because of course he knows where you are despite your best efforts. You even went out of your way to not go back to your parents’ place this time so he would not be able to trace you down as quickly as he always does. But he has his ways of getting a hold of you, he always has.

When the bell to your friend’s place rang at twelve AM, you simply thought maybe it was her boyfriend visiting. He has always had odd timing, so you got up to open the door, instead of your friend who was almost halfway asleep on the couch.

“Are you done throwing a tantrum?” The last person you expected to be standing behind the door when you opened it, with no guard up or whatsoever, was standing in front of you. Clad in a three piece suit, messy pink hair, newly formed bags under his eyes, and signature frown—it was your husband.

“WHY ARE YOU HERE?”

“Is the yelling necessary?”

“YES!”

His eyebrows furrowed further at the state of you. You looked like shit, in terms of that you didn't look taken care of. And that is simply unacceptable.

“Why did you open the door so easily? Did you even check before opening it? What if it was some creep huh?” His nagging made something flutter in your stomach. Oh, how much you have missed him.

“Yeah, like you are any better.” But this was no time to show him that.

He simply sighed at you, folding your hands on your chest, looking like you had no intention of hearing him out or planning on packing your bags to leave with him.

“Alright. You made me do this.”

With effortless movements on his part, and some flailing around like a fish on your part, you were on his shoulders; hanging like a sack of potatoes. To be then driven back to the house you built into a home with your now soon to be ex-husband. It did not even make him huff out some air, to walk to his car with you throwing punches on his back. With one large hand on your back, and another around both of your legs—so you do not kick him and tumble off his shoulder in the process.

He sat you down in his passenger seat, while mumbling something about how he would come and pick up your bags tomorrow. He did not even flinch or get angry at you for yelling crude profanities at him, or pulling on his hair, before he locked you in the car. So he could easily get to the driver’s seat, without you trying to escape, like you ‘ve done before. You just wanted him to get pissed enough at you, so you can make an excuse out of that and make him leave you alone.

Or so you wanted to make yourself assume.

Because trying is all you can really do. Throw some fits and tantrums, try to get him to sign those papers—but you know he would never. His apathy and disdain for communication aside, he is a great husband, and he loves you maybe more than what you can fathom.

And at this point you're so far beyond the point of return, that you don't even think you can do without him, nor can he do without you. He looked paler, and thinner, and the crease between his eyebrows looked worse. But you also looked horrible, with the shine in your hair gone, skin looking dull, visible marks of tears on your cheeks—you missed him dearly, and waited for him earnestly.

What even the fuck is ‘giving space,’ and how did Sukuna, your husband, of all people got to know about it? Maybe you would have returned home much earlier, if he simply chased after you like he always did. So you tried to stretch your little bubble, to see how long before it really pops, because if the pressure of the air is not enough, what is even enough?

Saying you hate him? That you cannot stand him? Or that you want a divorce? If only he figured out the easy way around your wrath, maybe then he would not have the unnecessary lawyer’s fees charged on his card that he gave you.

“You're done with this now?”

It took you a few minutes to answer his question, you just silently sat there with your face planted on the window, as you continued to stare at his reflection—how one of his hands remained on the steering wheel, while the other you could feel rubbing up and down on your bare thighs, barely covered by your shorts. He just knows exactly how to shut you up. And this is how it goes, you get defeated and you refuse to look at him, until he has you back home, on your bed, and you cannot help but look at him, just him.

“Yes.” The mumble was loud enough to get to his ears, which made the corners of his lips twitch.

“Good girl.”

“Shut up, or else I'll actually divorce you!”

He laughed to himself, but he felt the threat deep in his bones. Oh to be threatening Ryomen Sukuna and have him in the palm of your hands.

“Sure. Let's just go home. But you are still getting punished.” His voice sounded at ease, to finally have you with him, but nothing about what he said was going to be easy for you. Sure it sounded playful, or endearing, and filled with love—because it was, but that did not mean the threat was not present.

But you would have it no other way. Just him talking to you with sweet threats, and mean punishments. Sure it is going to be hard when he will have you crying tears of pleasure and pain, bent over his lap—but you know you are going to enjoy every second of it.

“I know Kuna.”

TO FIND MORE OF MY WORKS CLICK HERE.

a/n: divider by @/omi-resources.

have fun :3c this opened new doors for me. you will be seeing more of him from me >:)

I'd provoke him sm just so he'd rock my shit

tag list: @cheralith @madamechrissy @gojosperms @gojao @cuntphoric @cuntyji @cuntphoric @aishi-toru @rriwyu @exquisink @lover-lyn @buckysm @wwwritererm @indiewritesxoxo @soupicidesquad @shouiow @user25384959574 @dxmnsaera @kazupop @slayzzz @undercvrfan444 @miizuzu @getoistic @infinitatis-ink @theorphicangel @gojosconsort @ricecake-mochi @veahhcarothers

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lil-sweater-slut · 5 months ago

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With the ides of march fast approaching we must be prepared

Please reblog to make sure everyone is equipped!

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lil-sweater-slut · 5 months ago

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murder strut husbands™

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lil-sweater-slut · 8 months ago

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Reblog if you need this energy

source

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lil-sweater-slut · 1 year ago

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do you want to fuck me in front of your friends or not

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lil-sweater-slut · 1 year ago

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men who knead your thighs and hip as you sit on their lap with their big hands as you slick their hair back and tell them about your day. who get so hard when you kiss their forehead and tell them you have to go shower. who don’t let you go and fuck you on the couch — deep, thoroughly, filled with love

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lil-sweater-slut · 1 year ago

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(you are a) natural, baby - Sam Winchester/Reader

read it on ao3.

Pairing: Virgin!Sam Winchester/AFAB!Reader (vaguely s1 or 2) Tags/Warnings: blowjobs, deepthroating, Impala sex, whiny/submissive Sam (with hints of the opposite). nothing too insane. yk the deal. Word Count: 11034 Notes: hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii. i've been. thinking about sam lately. and i MAY or may not have had the most vivid wet dream of my life... which may or may not have inspired this slightly........... enjoy! there will be a sequel btw ;) for plot's sake, yes, Sam is 23 and is still a virgin 🍾 Ask to be added to my taglists for future posts!

You couldn't believe your luck.

You notched the car into park, lips parted in disbelief. Holy shit. Rain bore down on the car from all sides, making an already dark night impossible to walk in, nevermind drive. Baby—or the Impala, you corrected yourself, since Sam always poked fun at you for picking up Dean's little nickname—had puttered out her last huff of warm air a few miles back. That left at least another hour’s worth of driving until you were back to Dean, who was waiting back where your present job was. There was no way you could get back in this weather. It'd be past midnight soon anyway, so…

You played your fingers on the wheel. Bent over it, squinting at the rain. Slumped back in your seat. All the while, Sam watched you go through the motions passively. He already knew what you knew: you'd have to camp here for the night. Just the two of you. Alone.

The universe had done everything short of smashing you together like kissing barbies. In this week alone, the messy line of feelings between you and Sam had been tested at least a hundred times. It was obscene. Ever since Sam's twenty-third birthday, all the forces of nature had woken to remind you at every turn how stupid horny you were for him. Sam was no longer the beanpole you could easily throw while sparring; there was a man in your passenger’s seat, a good deal taller than you on miles and miles of leg, with handsome, veiny arms and a lap made for sitting in. Your childhood crush had been nursed so long that it'd grown into love. But now that you were a twenty-five-year-old, full-time hunter, there was little room for a childhood novelty. You had instead made space for a covetous, needy desire that the universe loved to throw in your face.

Monday. Sam had helped Dean out with one of the less-than-junk cars in Bobby's yard, bent up under the bonnet, sweat and grime making his tee cling to the landscape of his back. And Jesus, what a landscape it was… Sloped and firm with experienced, long-developed muscle. Tuesday. Dean got on the subject of blowjobs, and Sam immediately got off the subject. Significantly, you learned he's never had one. Your mouth watered just sitting next to him. Wednesday. You risked using the last towels in the pile for your shower, each just big enough to close and cover your modesty—if you don’t stand up straight. Sam caught you coming out of said shower. He looked, looked some more, and you sniped at him for it around the saliva building in your mouth. All you wanted to do was claw his jeans around his ankles and blow him until he forgot his name. Sam lingered like he wanted the exact same thing, and both of you pretended to ignore the tent in his pants. Thursday. Sam coached you in long-bowing. You stood just inches apart in an empty field, Sam's shoes between your in the grass, and you fucked up every damn shot because Sam's massive hands were on your waist and your hips and in your belt-loops. He'd lean in until he was almost kissing the shell of your ear and say, S’ alright. Just focus on your footing. You're doing great, even though you hadn't hit a single target. Friday. You, him and Dean left for a North Dakota case. You had to share a bed with one of the boys, and Sam reminded you what sharing meant the whole night, huffing soft moaning breaths against the back of your neck in his sleep.

You resist the urge to clamp your thighs together. It'd been freezing cold in your room and you’d been sharing beds since you were young; to have just your backs pressed together was impressive. At one point, you turned over and Sam stretched back to meet you, his warm spine flush to your chest without hesitation, flaying you instantly. He’d seeped back into the mattress as content as could be. You resisted the urge to run your fingers through his floppy hair, or caress the smooth strip of flesh that the seam of his shirt didn't cover. You failed at the first—but to be fair, Sam's hair was in your face and it was annoying you and you had to be close, because the room was so cold. And your hand just ended up there. And then it ended up under his shirt, your nails stroking his stomach, because Sam was a tease who'd dragged your arm around him in the first place. He'd been shaking, it was so cold. You couldn't just let him freeze. Regardless, it was hard to say no to him when he was smoothing your palm against his ribs like that.

“Think we can make a run to get the blankets from the trunk?” Sam invited. “I can do it if you give me the keys.”

You wanted to say more to that, but you settled instead on taking the keys out of the Impala and dropping them in Sam’s waiting hand. “Thank you,” you murmured, and Sam bobbed his head once before braving the weather.

He was gone for less than a minute, but the clinging silence that rang in your ears could’ve gone on forever. The rain pounded across the car with a vendetta, plunking off the metal and hammering over your empty parking lot just as hard. It raced down the glass fast enough to make the outside world a shimmering blue mirage. Sam’s figure was a darker silhouette closer to the glass, and you busied yourself putting a sweater on as he dove inside.

“Dammit,” Sam cursed. He knew better than to shake his hair out on Dean’s good leather, so he tossed down the blankets in between you—and there was a generous gap—to hunt around the backseat for a towel. The amber streetlights gave you just one glimpse of Sam’s rain-streaked face. It shouldn’t have flushed your belly with want as much as it did, but that’s half the reason you were in this mess.

“S’ bad out there,” you said, obviously. Sam agreed with a hum, and together you sorted yourselves for relaxing before you slept.

Before, you’d had the car on and the heater going, so you were mostly okay with your jackets tossed in the backseat. Sam had on a tee and a moss-colored sweater to keep him warm, and you had the thought of his firm muscle underneath those layers to keep you warm. Though more cold had seeped back into the Impala, you didn’t put on your jacket, toeing off your boots in the footwell. You piled on your blankets and curled up against the seat, Sam doing the same. He hadn’t put his jacket on either.

You shared a glance. Well, it was more like Sam was already looking at you and you caught him, flushing up to your ears. “There’s no way we won’t make it there til morning,” he said, “I’ll text Dean.”

“Good idea,” you agreed. You brought your legs closer to your chest, bumping Sam’s thigh with a stray foot. To your surprise, he glanced up at you at the contact, and again you found one of his coy glances. You couldn’t believe it. Was he...?

All four burners in your body flicked onto a simmer at the same time. You bit your lip, taking him in as he was illuminated by his phone’s screen, wet twisting curls of hair in his eyes. “S’ okay. I don’t think Dean will care, with how slow this case is going. Though I can guess why you’re so eager to get back,” you tested the waters with a sly smile. “That witness—Miss Checknik, she was really aiming to get you alone, huh?”

Sam was still raw from Dean pressing his buttons on this, so he was shier than usual when he mumbled, “It’s… not like that… I’ve never even done that before.”

“What?” you blurted. “Had sex?”

Sam’s gaze snapped up to yours. Around you the rain roared, but you still caught his subtle hitch of breath. His pause went on for another telling amount of time, until Sam’s ears were red too. “...It’s not like you have either,” he muttered.

This had to be on purpose. You tossed an arm over the back of the seat, knuckles against your cheek and a growing, sly smile on your face.

Sam sat up. “You’re kidding. Really?”

You slouched, huffing. “What, is that a surprise or something?”

“No,” Sam spoke a little too quickly, like he’d been thinking about it. He swallowed. “No, not at all. I was just…”

You wet your lips and let your eyes drift over him. Sam sat stiff in your passenger's seat, legs crossed a little too tightly, his hands folded together over his lap, hiding a building, jealous hard-on. A muscle jumped in his neck. The shivery warmth that reigned over you every time Sam entered the room conquered you again, watching him squirm, and you couldn't help but do the math. You could… you could make an offer. If he said no, that was fine. All you’d have to do was endure a night's sleep in the car with him then a few awkward days afterward—but you and Sam had done that dance a hundred times before, after kissing for spin-the-bottle or getting caught lusting after each other, so maybe this was it. This week had been filled with omens.

You went all in.

“We travel a lot and it relieves stress, so… I’ve picked up a few dates. Bar-flings, heat-of-the-moment stuff with hunters, every once in a while.”

You risked a glance at him through your lashes. Sam had inched closer to listen, just enough for you to notice, and was clearly trying to sculpt his face into something less interested—but his eyes were glazed and his attention was rapt. You had him right on the hook.

Sam swallowed. His voice was thick with arousal. “I, um, didn't know that was your thing.”

You shrugged, “I don’t enjoy it as much as Dean does, but yeah. The guys I pick up, I mean—they’re okay. Most can't find their way around a bra, never mind… well, y’know. You get what you can get. But the other parts, the fun parts of sex…” Even you were blushing at how dirty your smile felt. “I'm real lucky, Sam. Most girls don't get off making their partners happy, but I do. It's… made me real good.” You twisted so your chest was pushed toward him, feeling yourself ache in your jeans. You hushed coyly: “I’m told I’m a real natural with my mouth.”

“Really.” Sam repeated. He sputtered out a half-hearted chuckle. His cheeks had gone all cute and ruddy with a blush, exposing the lighter moles on his face.

“Really,” you promised.

The look on Sam's face went beyond teasing, now. You’d told yourself you were just messing around with him, but Sam was twitching in his seat, suddenly unable to sit right, and all the years of play-flirting had apparently stacked too high. Something hot and magnetic had brought you closer and closer together in the Impala’s front seat. Sam was frozen like he wanted to crawl out into the rain and disappear—always so shy, so easy—but something else rooted him to the spot this time. One more motion and you could close that measly gap blazing between you, get his skin pressed firmly to yours. Your arms and back and belly crawled with a phantom itch, and Sam's hands looked so perfect and big that you knew they could fix that feeling. Your mouth felt wet and lonely. Sam's was right there, panting as he waited for you to do something.

“Have you really never had sex before?” You filled Sam's flushed silence. You scrutinized him, brows furrowed with sympathy. “Not even a blowjob?”

Sam's whole body hitched like a slow to start engine at the word. He temporarily forgot himself, choking on his breath and roaming his sweaty palms across his thighs—uncovering, for just an instant, the outline of something firm and big in his jeans.

Still, Sam's eyes couldn't shake yours.

“Um, no,” Sam admitted. “Never had t-the… opportunity, I guess. Or the right person.”

“Would you?” You scrambled to let the words loose, then resettled in your seat, lounging back and stifling your excitement. Sam's dick. Sam's big, virgin dick in your mouth. “If the right person…” you gestured vaguely, like this was still at all a hypothetical, “gave you the opportunity?”

It took Sam a second, eyes flickering fast over your face beneath his bangs, but eventually, he gave a single short nod.

A nuclear reactor’s worth of heat sizzled up from your toes. It bubbled out of you in a pleased, purring sigh, and you could barely suppress your grin, your butterflies, your nervousness, when you crawled into the cold space beside him on the bench. You leaned in slow by his ear. Your nails played across his thudding pulse, his taut neck, spurring Sam’s breaths into gasps. At an agonizing pace, you dragged your soft nails behind his ear, to the tingling nape of Sam's neck, and relished in the feel of his flesh like a vampire as you stroked him there. The blunts of your nails scratched gently at his hairline. Sam squeezed out a soft moaning sigh, so sweet and trusting that you closed your eyes to soak in it all the way.

After a few strokes of your nails to Sam's shivering skin, you fanned your warm breath down his shuddering collar and barely kept yourself from moaning in his ear: “I’m real smart with my mouth, Sammy… I could make your first time good for you. Better n’ good, even.”

He sat there in utter disbelief. Sam breathed hard, and now that your hand was on him, his squirming had stopped. After a deep, weighing pause, Sam removed his hands from his lap and slid them down to his knees instead, tasting the growing appetite in his mouth.

“...What would it feel like?” The rasp in his voice made you instantly wet.

You flushed. “You want me to describe it to you?”

Sam gave a shy shrug of his shoulders, playing innocent, but that clever smile of his had been haunting you all week. He knew precisely what he was doing. “Never had one,” Sam reminded.

The car was suddenly boiling. You had kicked off your blanket a long time ago, and so had Sam, which left you in layers that neither of you wanted anymore.

“Well,” you breathed out, amused. You gave yourself room to undo your coat, and Sam hung on every motion, making each exposed inch of you feel needy and overheated. “I really only know it from the giver's point of view, but, um, it's really fun for guys. I'm sure you've heard other men talk about it before. Unwinds your whole body and blows your mind, done right,” you talked as you shed your coat. “If they made it sound easy to give a good blowjob, Sam—it’s not. You have to know what you're doing, how to read your partner… know what they like… luckily for you,” you hummed, “I've never had a complaint.”

Sam nodded after nearly everything you said, unsure where to settle his hands or what to say. He looked more demure than you’d ever seen him, and it was so cute to you it was almost unbearable. You could imagine him making that exact face at you with his wet dick pushing into the inside of your cheek—all bashful but desperate, hinged on your every word, your every lick. The thought of all the pretty sounds he'd make when you blew him left you on sensory overload, and the only thing that would fix it was Sam kissing you breathless.

It struck you that Sam was really gonna let you do this for him, after years of him caring too much about you to let you take care of him. You were left with a peculiar rush; Sam trusted you.

“Blowjobs are… all the good bits of kissing and jerking off put together,” you explained. You settled back where you’d been before, hanging on Sam's shoulder and talking filthy in his ear as he quivered with want. This time your nails drew circles on his collar, and Sam surprised you by squeezing his hand around your thigh to steady himself. You could've cum on the spot. A flood of heat burned down your gut and throbbed between your legs, soaking your underwear clean through.

You’d never stopped looking at each other, but your faces were closer than ever and the eye contact felt explosive. It was dark but for the streetlight, and quiet but for the endless rain, both aspects of life you saw every day—monsters in the dark and a storm banging on the car. But with Sam there, these everyday mundanes felt… romantic. Passionate, like the movies. His eyes were this beautiful, soft fawn brown. You couldn't wait to see that slip of color admire you from between Sam's thighs.

“The girl, she’ll…” your mouth flooded with drool. “I’ll get down on my knees for you,” you corrected, boldly.

Sam sucked in a shaky breath, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you rasped. “And I'll get nice and comfy there, because I'm gonna waste as much time on you as I can…”

Your hand graduated into his hair again, since Sam forgot how to breathe each time you did it, and with it occupied you lingered on his face. Sam looked piss-drunk with lust; his head was on a swivel, lolling in whatever direction you went, his lashes fluttering low on red-patched cheeks. “I'm gonna take my time getting your pants off, y’know, tickling your legs.” A particularly dirty thought occurred to you, and it must've shown on your face because Sam's parted lips opened further. “Maybe, if you wanted, I could do this little trick I learned with my teeth… open your fly that way. You want that?”

Sam's eyes flicked down to your mouth, thinking. “I do,” he bobbed his head, “I really do.”

“Okay.” You pet Sam's chest, and coupled with the attention of your nails in his hair, a moan seeped out of him, vibrating somewhere deep under your hand. You grinned a shark’s grin. “...Then I'd look at you like that, cause’ that's what I've been dying to do for ages, see you all hard for me and nobody else. You might kill me cause’ you're so beautiful, Sam. And I'd kiss you everywhere I could… all over your thighs, your hips, the muscles in your stomach, your dick… your cock.” A whine jumped out of Sam's throat. Just the word made your throat feel open. “When you're squirming and begging for me to pull you out, I'll take off your boxer briefs, too, the blue ones I know you're wearing—” You’d seen him in them that morning, when he'd crossed his arms and his shirt had rucked up enough to flash some belly. Sam huffed an embarrassed laugh, and you kept going. “I know exactly what I'll do when your boxers are off, cause’ I've been waiting years for it. M’ gonna take your dick in my hand and just admire it, feel how big it is, imagine what it'll be like inside me—” Sam cursed aloud at that, “—inside my warm, wet mouth. I've been imagining what it looks and feels like for so long, Sammy, I think I deserve to see the real deal. Don't you think?”

You ran a finger along Sam's collarbone, and he rolled into it, chasing the slightest touch of your hand regardless if it was on his dick or not. You hadn't even drifted below his belt yet, and Sam was still arching into your touch like it would make him cum. He nodded mindlessly, sweat and rain making his hair cling to his face. “God,” he swore. “You do, ____—you d’serve it so much… so much…”

You cupped Sam's sweaty, tacky jaw, and he sighed like you’d rubbed him through his jeans. You resisted the urge to do just that, asking, “Can I have a kiss, Sammy?”

Sam peeled himself off the seat and rolled into your arms. The hand on your thigh was joined by a second, bracing his huge, sturdy palms on your legs in a way that made you grateful you weren't balancing on them, and with his face nestled in your hands and his eyes all dewy for you, Sam kissed you. You knew that that was it—every time you found your way to a kiss with him, it was the final straw. You loved him. Sam kissed you like he loved you too, pecking you soft and light like you were his dream girl, like he only wanted to treat you gentle, since so often his hands were forced to do the opposite. Quickly, your fingers were in his rain-tangled hair. Sam drew back to groan and then angled his head, pecking you in deep and loving bursts until you were giggling at him. He kissed those giggles too, smiling into his dimples. Sam never failed to make your heart go rabid when he did that, kissing you good; you had seen him kiss other girls before, and he never seemed as skilled or intuitive unless it was with you. Something tirelessly drove him to impress you.

You urged Sam's back flat to the seat again. With your leverage returned, you cupped his neck, then his shoulders, slipping your hands into his shirt, first through his collar and then up his stomach, palms seeking and appreciative. His flesh was warm and his figure was firm or yielding in all the right places. Sometimes, when you sparred and Sam was on top of you, or when you shared beds and his back was pressed to yours, you got glimpses of what Sam felt like. But now that you were free to roam where you pleased, only one signal could make its way through your nervous system: he is so beautiful. You uttered this to him in a frenzy. Sam couldn't get any redder, but you could feel his skin get warmer yourself, could press your hands flat to it and feel the life underneath, which was all the response you needed.

You licked your way into Sam's mouth. He was pliant for you as you did, whole-heartedly enjoying the filthiness of your tongue lapping and sucking at his, even if it was new to him. You laved yours from his bottom lip, across his open, wet mouth and flat against his top lip, prying approving little sounds from him. Butterflies furled and unfurled their wings in your stomach.

When you finally freed yourself, you sucked down breaths open-mouthed and fell back on your haunches.

“That's how it's gonna feel on your cock,” you proclaimed, and swiped a line of spit off his chin.

“Yeah?” Sam panted.

You wormed your fingers under the seam of your tight tee and yanked it over your head, cursing at him in a wrecked whisper. “Yeah. Then I'm gonna put you all the way in my throat, every inch of you, lickin’ and kissin’ all I can get. And when you're ready to cum, m’ gonna play with you, n’ hold you in mouth and make you sit like that.”

Sam mewled, only making your craze to get your pants off even worse. “Why?”

“‘Cause you've tortured me, baby,” you swore. You rocked back onto your tailbone and wormed off your bottoms, sucking back spit at the sight of Sam puppy-dog-eying you and palming his dick—palming his dick because of you, because of your lacy black underwear and how it looked on you. You knew you looked hot. But Sam made you feel it, like you were a Victoria's Secret cover model, like you were the hottest girl he'd ever seen, naked or otherwise. And you were—Sam had never been with anyone else. “Look at me, Sammy. You've tortured me. Made me wait to kiss you and touch you like this for so long, I almost lost my mind. So you're gonna get a taste of your own medicine, just for a bit—and when I think you can't take it anymore, just like me, then I'm gonna let you cum wherever you want. On my face, my tits, on my stomach…” you choked back a wave of unbridled, insatiable want, groaning out, “...in my mouth… inside me...”

The low, guttural noise puttering out of Sam broke. He took you by the underarms and yanked you against him, genuinely hauling you off your ass with a strength you forgot he had, little pants and miserable snarling moans pouring from him. Your mouths slotted together hard and unprettily. It knocked a girlish laugh out of you—when Sam let you breathe between sucking your face off, anyway.

“You like that idea, huh?” You teased.

Sam dropped a hand across your temple. His hand was so big that it could cover the entirety of your face, or perfectly seal over your mouth. In ways no other man had ever done for you, he stroked your hair back all tender just so he could get a look at his girl. You nuzzled into the weight without any mind for where you were going, knowing nothing but Sam’s love and Sam’s chest expanding and shrinking between you.

Those big fawn eyes wondered up at you. “You’d let me do that? Already?”

“I’d let you do anything.” You dropped what remained of your filter. This was truly dumbfounding to him, apparently, because Sam sat there stupidly for a second with his mouth open. He snapped it shut as you neared your faces, making it even easier to press a kiss to the seam of his mouth. “Any other man would take advantage of that chance. M’ not stupid. But you’re the only one I can think of who’d… who’d,” you searched for the words, admiring Sam’s nosebridge with your thumb. He had such pretty moles. “You’d be good to me,” you concluded.

Sam blinked. “...I’d want to be,” he smiled, sounding dulcet. Again, Sam brushed back your hair. “I mean… Anybody who wouldn’t be good to you i-is… is an idiot.”

“Exactly,” you smirked. Slow and sultry, you pressed your nose and lips into the plush of Sam’s cheek and dragged, then a little more, just glimpsing the skin with yours. He was ready and shuddering when your lips were at his ear. “That’s why it’s you I’m thinking about when I’m fingering myself.”

Another weak sound wept out of Sam. Christ, the noises he could make. If your imagination had even come close to the real thing, you would’ve been this dirty-mouthed with him ages ago.

Sam cursed, “Jesus, ____.”

“It’s true.” You pressed this promise with a kiss into his cheek, then again, at his jaw, letting yourself sink into each one with boundless pleasure. Sam melted helplessly against you, ears perked. “Every day. Every time I took a shower, after sharing a bed with you all weekend. I was always soaking wet because of something you’d done hours ago that I just couldn’t shake, hot out of my mind…” you swallowed down another onslaught of drool. “I pictured you having a hard day, y’know, needing something to perk you up. I’d haul your jeans down and lick you all over like an ice cream cone.”

Sam’s whole upper body was blushing so hard now that steam floated off him. “God, me too.”

Your brows raised. “Yeah?”

He nodded himself dizzy. “That same thing. You having a hard day. I’d… I’d…”

You leaned in, blinking in shock. “How did you imagine it?”

“We’d be kissing.” One of his long, too-long-to-be-wasted fingers followed a thread of your panties. “On your bed, the Impala, wherever we could find. I’d lay back and… and you’d crawl on top of me…get your legs around my head—”

Sam’s hot, moist breath tickled your face. So close, with your lips wet from Sam’s kissing already, it was all too easy to follow along with his fantasy. Sitting in his lap in the backseat. Laying him down there, your palms flat and steadying on his chest. Curling your thighs around his face until his nose pressed up into you, then his mouth, slipping open, and his hot, silky tongue taking long drinks of you. The sensory ghost of it alone could’ve made you cum.

You blurted: “You’d eat me out?”

One man-paw of his smoothed down the planes of your back, palming big handfuls of your skin. Now, it was his turn to smile wolfishly. Sam confessed: “I’ve always wanted to.”

The admission temporarily launched you into orbit, and for a long time you hung there, clinging to him by the shirt, dully aware of the rainy smell of him and how hard your cunt was pulsing. Sam. Your Sam, sitting with these thoughts in his head. At the same time that you were pushing your knees together when he sat beside you at the dinner table, Sam was fantasizing about getting between them. The eroticism of it already had you close to edge. Anytime you’d ever been with him, at some point, Sam had to have thought about how his fingers would feel digging into your ass-flesh while he fucked you with his tongue, while you squealed his name, the flat of your toes curled against his shoulders. Uncensored. He could’ve revealed any fantasy on top of that, but he chose this one. The one that had him pleasuring you and fucking loving it. Sam didn’t just want you—he wanted the angle that could get him the most of you, the most exposed and honest position. You fucking loved him.

You were tonguing into his mouth before Sam could finish, both hands in possessive fists around his shirt. Sam started laughing, the asshole, but you persisted, closing him in with passionate dips of your head and kissing him senseless. Your hands feasted on him, clawing into his hair and down the back of his shirt and around again. Nothing was enough. You were convinced you wouldn’t be satisfied until you were Sam, or melded into him somehow, like chocolate chips in a warm pot.

“Thought about… tasting you n’ makin’ you feel good,” Sam hissed. “So good that you’d have’ta put your fist in your mouth to stop yourself from screaming. You’d put your hands in my hair a-and… and… shit, you’d taste so good. I want to taste you so bad, ____. Want you to—” he leached you into a long, surging kiss, purring deep in his throat, “sit on my face.”

You wrestled down a choked whine, which Sam swallowed. Every movement of his mouth went straight to your pussy, echoing there. Sam must’ve known this, because he kissed you exactly as he would between your thighs, all tongue and sucking lips, unbearably hot in comparison to your untouched cunt. You could almost feel the blazing front of his mouth bearing down on you there, his breath fanning over you and his tongue—god, his fucking tongue—flexing into your clit. You broke away.

Sam’s hands hesitated at the top of your back, then all at once took two whole handfuls of your ass, and pushed up with his hips to open your thighs for him. You let slip a helpless moan. His hands were warm and calloused and everywhere, except for the precise place you needed him most. But above all else, Sam was a selfless, loving man, so immediately he was moving to drag down your panties.

“Please,” he choked. “Please, ____, please, I can—I can do it for you—lemme do it for you, baby. Let me take care a’ you.”

“Sam.”

You pressed both palms flat to Sam’s chest in an order. Sam immediately stopped, though he did not look pleased about it. You took a breath to realize the pussy-eating fiend you were soon to have all to yourself, then stepped back to your initial focus. “You’ll have to wait. Want you first, pretty boy. Have you ever even done that before?”

Sam shook his head, sending his bangs fluttering around his face. He pouted. His hands coasted along your arms, dragging you down and into him still.

Bleeding with earnestness, he husked, “No. But I’ll learn for you. I’ll practice on you over and over again, til’ I’m better than anybody you’ve ever had that way. S’ all I want.”

You bit your lip and, god, was it impossible to say no to him.

“I'm all yours, Sammy. Whatever you need, you know I'll give it to you. But we’re gonna do this first, okay?”

You wanted his first time to be good, better than good, all because of you. You wanted to be his second time. His third time too, and every time after that. And if that didn't work out, then you hoped that every time he got a blowjob in the future, it was a good one. Even if it’d be downright pitiful in comparison to the way you were gonna suck his brains out now.

You reached between you and gave Sam's strained cock a generous squeeze.

Sam lost it. “Please, you, please please—” he all but sobbed. His hips rolled up and his knees snapped apart, making room for you, inviting you in, hands making marks on your arm in his scramble for touch. “Please. I-I need it, I need—I need you, god, I want to feel—”

You hung back, absorbing the result of your work. You’d barely touched him and Sam was already out of his mind. He'd had orgasms before—you’d heard him reaching them through the wall in the shower, and his desperate choking breaths were so hot that you had touched yourself right outside the door—but as good as they'd sounded, you were determined to blow them out of the race.

Sam started for his fly, which was your cue to step in. You waved his hands away, guiding them to his stomach, where they fisted in his shirt and drew it up over his sculpted naval. You shushed and soothed, “Sam, Sammy—s’okay, you're okay. I'll take care of you, alright? I'll start right now,” you peppered kisses on his face, bent beside him on your knees. “We gotta get the seat back. Help me?”

You pushed the Impala’s bench back as far as it could go, and you made sure to lay the backrest down a few more inches, too, so Sam could relax and you had a good angle on his face. He was equally considerate and folded up a blanket for you to sit on in the footwell. As soon as Sam sat up, you evaporated into his lap. You expected him to go shy on you again, but this time Sam helped you settle there, clenching his teeth and dragging his eyes up your figure. You stood still for the examination, and the longer it went on the warmer your flaming skin got. Both of Sam’s unreasonably big hands landed on your waist at the same time, and for a moment your roles reversed, Sam’s eyes smoky and heavy-lidded as he devoured the sight of you. You felt yourself throb pathetically in your panties. You were probably the first girl Sam had ever seen intimately; and, in true Sam fashion, he consumed the new sight, cataloging and learning things. A tiny whine slipped out of you when his fingers dug into your thighs, then again when Sam’s thumb brushed under the band of your bra.

“I'm all yours,” you reminded with a smile you hoped was confident. If it was, it was ruined by you shyly and awkwardly reaching for the clasp of your bra. “Whatever you want, Sam, I can do.”

He gazed up at you through his bangs, expression bleeding with love and boyish frankness. “What do you want?”

“To make you happy,” you answered, without question. “To make this night good for you, even if it's the only night we'll have.”

Sam shook his head, absent-minded. A slow, clever, panty-dropping smile developed on his face, something that was clearly common in the men of his family.

“You said that most guys you're with, like this…” he thought aloud. Sam brought you close to him, and when your shadow fell across him and you were nose to nose, he slid two warm fingers up your back and click—he was pulling your brassiere off your shoulders. “You said that most of them can't find a way around a bra, nevermind you,” he observed. “We're going to need more nights if I'm going to prove to you that I'm different.”

“Sam,” you whispered, “you were always different from them.”

You pushed him back against the seat, aligning his spine with it, and as soon as Sam hung his arms over his head you were kissing him wet and deep, both of your hands sliding and groping along the firm muscle of his raised biceps. Now only a flimsy tee stood between them, and you were as rude with it as you were with anything else keeping you from Sam. The long, muscular frame you’d been fantasizing about for years was exposed to you now, and you wasted no time getting acquainted with it. Only recently had Sam started to linger in wet t-shirts in front of you or guide your hands under his shirt as you cuddled—for longer, you’d had no clue what he looked like under his clothes. Dean got all the credit for being John's perfect hunter, but Sam had the perfect hunter's body, barrel-chested huge and wood-shattering strong.

You sunk onto your hands and knees, palming him, groping him, caressing him, outlining the lines of his muscles and his ribs with your fingers. Nobody could resist the temptation to kiss him all over, and in all fairness, you had promised. You dragged your mouth down Sam's chest, kissing the center seam of his body to his happy trail. You almost lost yourself pleasuring him this way; at the sound of Sam's deep breathing, you endured, hovering over your prize instead. You knew you must've looked beyond turned on: your dark eyes were wild, dilated and glittering with want, your panties were soaked through and your lip was almost bleeding you were biting it so hard.

“Fuck,” you cursed, settled back on Sam's thighs, “I've wanted to blow you stupid for years, Sam… it didn't matter what you looked like underneath here or not… but fuck, I feel like a schoolgirl, drooling over all these muscles. You used to be so lanky.”

“Hard to be healthy on the road,” Sam flushed. “We're fighting monsters every day, it’d be stupid to die to a heart condition…or… something.”

“Yeah,” you groaned before you could contain yourself, “but you're sure not making this crush I have on you any easier.”

Sam whispered, sounding coy as he plucked the waistband of your panties. There was that dimply smile again. “You got a crush on me, pretty girl?”

The next words poured out of you as sensually and devoutly as you felt them: “Yeah,” slow, you dismounted his thighs, folded your legs in between Sam's, and finally, finally, sunk on your shins into the footwell. “You wanna see what I do for the men I crush on, baby?”

“So bad. So damn bad,” Sam begged, and it was surreal to finally see what he looked like from this angle, since you’d been dreaming of it for so long. His head lolled back and all you could see of him was the sexy column of his throat and all the soft red lines you’d put in his skin there, just bright enough to see. His chin lowered so Sam could look at you, and sweet lord—there were those fawn brown eyes, drowning in the darkness and the black of his lashes. They boiled over with devotion and willingness and thirst, teased for far too long now. You almost felt bad enough to cut him some slack. But now you were here, with Sam's cock just inches from where it should be, and you couldn't just start going easy on him.

You did exactly what you said you would, so Sam knew what was coming. As promised, you hunkered down on the blanket Sam had folded, letting your knees settle comfortably on the floor. Then you started in on him. You played your nails across his legs, stroking the sides of his thighs, feeling how his pants clung to his skin. On his lap, it was impossible not to fantasize about Sam sitting you on one of his legs and inviting you to rut across his solid, powerful jean-clad thigh. It took a lot to make you feel tiny—but Sam did just that. Crouched down at his feet like this, Sam only seemed bigger and his body better built than usual. You pressed your cheek against his inner thigh and just basked in him.

Sam writhed having you so close to the source of his suffering. “Please,” he sighed below his breath.

“Please what?” You grinned, wolfish.

You turned inwards and kissed the inner seam of Sam's jeans, right on the denim path to his aching cock. Just inches from your face, angled down Sam's pantleg, was a heavy, massive tent more than the width of both your hands put together. Fuck, it'd been even longer since your last good blowjob than you’d thought it'd been. Just seeing the outline made your cunt pulse. Pressing your kiss-swollen lips to the denim above the head bolted molten hot desire straight to your core, and for Sam it was no less extreme, his hands curling into fists on his chest.

His eyes squeezed shut, and the little hoarse squeak that left him made you forget your gag reflex entirely. Sam moaned, “Please please please put me in your mouth—____, p-please.”

“I think you're a little ahead of me, Sammy…”

Your voice dripped with liquid sex. You steadied your hands on Sam's knees and bent forward again, nuzzling his cock with your nose and cheeks, glittering obsidian eyes devouring Sam's softest reactions. He was sensitive—even more sensitive than you’d been hoping for. Just the tiniest lick through scratchy fabric had his toes curling. Again, your nails scraped down his thighs. This time you leaned forward as the gesture drew back, bringing you up to Sam's happy trail. And man, happy it was–it was the centerpiece for miles of twitching, gleaming, sweaty muscle, soft-blended abs, hard-cut v-lines and all.

“Let's start by getting these tight, constricting pants off your first.” you smirked. “How does that sound? You must be uncomfortable, Sammy.”

He was, to the point that just the thought of getting them off had his hips arching toward you on the seat. Pitifully, Sam pleaded, “____. C'mon. Anything.”

“S’okay…” you whispered. You kissed the button of his jeans. “I'll get it off and you'll feel so good, darlin…”

Sam watched you from over his heaving chest, so hard that he was delirious, quavering miserably when your touch disappeared. His soft desperate gasps reminded you of the noises he made when he had dirty dreams sleeping next to you. The few times it'd happened, you just endured it until you drifted off to fatally horny sleep. But once it'd been your name he was sighing like that. It took every ounce of strength you had not to roll over and jerk him off right there. The scene was so vivid it was painful, and you could easily imagine yourself cuddling up to his back and stroking him sweet and slow half-out of his pajama pants, your cheek to his shoulder. Or even better, crawling under your shared sheets and deepthroating him awake. You wondered if Sam had ever heard the dreams you had of him. Or how many times you’d fucked yourself in the shower, imagining him reaming you into the tile like an animal. You had never dreamt of another man that way, or loved a different one so terribly that it made you reckless.

Sam watched you with wide, long-lashed eyes. Nobody else could look so innocent watching somebody get ready to suck their dick. Every time you glanced past his chest, you expected the perverted revelry you got from your other partners to reveal itself on his face. But, god. Sam. He basked in you, in your touch, arching up to meet your hands and worshipping your with his gaze. Love downpoured from every molecule of him. All his reserve had shredded away, taking any reason he had to hide right along with it. I love you I love you I love you, his body wept.

The second you got the fabric corner of his jean-opening in your teeth, Sam’s lips parted, and you remembered all the times you’d tie cherry stems in your mouth to impress him—how many popsicles you’d enjoyed all too slowly and vocally while Sam was watching. It took just one pull of your chin and his fly was off the button. One more and his zipper was in your teeth. You dragged down your head, sultry eyes never leaving his even when you got his fly open, and soaked up the look on Sam's face as he realized the kind of professional he was dealing with.

“...Wow,” Sam gaped. I've hit the jackpot, his wide eyes said.

“Up,” you instructed, and let your grin say the rest. Excitement was burning between your legs now. You tugged on his belt loops until Sam raised his hips, giving you the room to pile them around his ankles.

When you brought your eyes back up, your breath caught. Sam was hard enough to crack steel. You couldn't believe your own luck here. The boy you’d been head over heels for since before you could speak, the man you’d devoted half your life to, and he was so hot for you that he could hardly breathe.

“You don't know how long I've been fantasizing about this.” Your voice was almost too hoarse to hear over the rain, a prayer's voice. You drew yourself between Sam's thighs, and shaking from head to toe with hunger, you spread both palms over his hips and dragged your mouth up Sam's length in his boxers.

Sam had already given himself up to the pleasure. His nails seared into the upholstery, and he moaned, rocketing up, off his back, rocking into you already. The neediness of it burst another tank of heat and love and lust inside you—your Sam, above you, about to be yours, begging so pretty for you… Fuck, heaven would be boring in comparison.

“____, please, baby, please I need it,” he almost sobbed, “I'll do anything anything ____ I ju-just, I just want you. I want your mouth on me I wanna—god, please ____, how good you feel, I want it, please—”

“Anything you want, Sammy, you can have anything,” you soothed, muffled and slurred by your dragging kisses.

“M’ all yours, all yours, all this cock just for you, g-god yeah—your mouth ____ please I need your mouth—”

There was so much drool built up under your tongue that you had to swallow to speak—but you decided against it, saving it for your prize instead. You couldn't wait a second more. You were hooking your fingers in Sam's briefs before you could second-guess, before you could even think to judge if you should unravel Sam a little more—but he was there, bucking for you already, so there was no use waiting. He couldn't even lift his hips before you’d yanked his boxers out of the way. You felt him in your hand and all of it—the length of his cock, the weight of it, the fact that it was Sam, had you sinking into his lap like a priest into a sermon, flesh into the earth, and instantly you threw yourself into the task like you’d never done for any other man. This was for Sam.

You took in just a bit of him at first, enough to introduce him to the hot, velvety heat of your mouth and wet him with a single good suck. Sam's sob cut off with his breath. He was careful to treat you right, even like this. One of his hands had startled into your hair, the pleasure was so much for him. It never did anything more than jolt—he wasn't the type to just shove you on him, anyway. Your smile felt obscene with your lips slick and swollen around him; your tongue gave the lightest lap at the special spot under his tip, and Sam strangled down a filthy, whining mewl. His head was plump and comfortable on your jaw, so you gave it your first dose of attention, loosening your seal around it so you could share your drool with the rest of him. You hollowed your cheeks and brought him a little further into your mouth, shattering what remained of Sam's strength. He sunk back against the seat, exhausted, and watched you bracingly from above, sucking down breaths. Already, there was enough spit on him to make Sam's cock gleam like your lips. It clung to your chin and the tip of your nose in shining patches. Sam ran a hand through his hair and lazily studied you as you sucked him off, falling further in love with you by the second.

“That's it,” Sam cooed. He sounded broken and thready, but he insisted on curling your hair around his fingers, dizzy. “So good, ____—suck it, just like that, please, baby, j-just… ohh, fuckkk…”

Suck it, he'd said. You did as told. The command vibrated through your whole overshot body, and your throbbing, weeping cunt only felt emptier hearing the order. Sam filled up your mouth so well that your cheeks were puffy. He was the perfect size for you—a damn perfect masterpiece. His girth sat thick in your hands, veiny in ways that you wanted to feel with your pussy. Oral had always been enough before, but already you wanted Sam more than air, and more than that, wanted to blow him so good that he'd reward you for it. You tested out a few lower bobs, his cock slick and sticky between your fingers now, and every time you suckled on him Sam squeezed his eyes shut all pretty. The rain was dying out, so the liquid noise your lips made on him filled every crevice of the Impala louder than before. The pop of you slipping off his cock almost echoed.

“Tell me what you want,” you coached, your voice just as broken and hushed as Sam's. You couldn't even part from him that long, and dipped again to whorl your tongue around Sam's heavy tip. “Whatever you need, Sam,” you punctuated the reminder with a long, flat drag of your tongue from his base to the special spot under his tip, and beamed; Sam yelped. “I love it… I love,” you swallowed, “I love doing this for you.”

Sam worked his fingers into your untamed hair, and you did fucking love it. On the floor your knees were aching, but it and everything else was numb to the rolling glide of cock slotting into your mouth, of Sam reveling in your lips and tongue on him, watching you give it all just because he asked.

Sam’s knuckles caressed your cheekbone. “Wrap your lips around the head. Tight.”

You listened. He was more than comfortable on your jaw now, so your lips molded nicely to him, sealing and hollowing so he was even more snug in his new favorite place.

“Good girl,” Sam groaned, probably on instinct, but you stroked him faster for the praise, so he repeated it until his mind was muddy. “Lick the part unde—oh very, very good girl… I wish you could see yourself… I-I want…” he hissed in delight, “you look so pretty, ____… so pretty with my cock in your mouth, god…”

Holy shit. You had never really paid attention to that kind of talk before during sex, busied with the task at hand, but there was something euphoric about the way he said it to you now, your shy Sam, your Sam, his voice raspy, his pink mouth panting and open, his hands all over you, talking to you like he’d always wanted to say that. Your cunt ached.

With a deadly rumble spilling up from your chest, you slipped off his head and laved your gluttonous mouth down Sam’s soaking shaft, kissing, tonguing and sucking at whatever flesh you could find.

“Keep talking like that,” you begged into his base, breathless.

Sam listened. He cupped the sweat-slick nape of your neck, his hand easily broad enough to cover your back blade to blade, and in a messy, groping haze, dragged it up against your cheek. “Never seen you like this,” he purred, “eyes… all dark and… hot… lookin’ up at me… you’re so tiny between my legs like that.”

You couldn’t have restrained yourself if you tried. A weak whine seeped out of you. Sam’s thumb pushed into your cheek and you turned, lapping at it, then covering his hand with one of your own and searing kisses all over his palm. It was heavy and perfect for smudging your nose into. You sunk two open-mouthed kisses into Sam’s wrist where his bracelet was, then up his forearm, knowing only his body and how it could connect to your mouth. His pulse thudded furiously. Just as fast as you’d nuzzled up to him, you returned to Sam’s thick thumb, sucking it deep and right as he watched in rapture. The filthy delight written all over those mesmerized eyes had you praying to him.

“Wanna do this all the time,” Sam swallowed. He was all stream-of-consciousness now, too frenzied to filter himself. “Watch you suck me off… watch those perfect lips disappear around me, _____… y-you… oh, god, you are a natural, baby…”

His other hand, again, flushed your hair away from her forehead. All the love put into your face at once rooted you to the spot. It was miraculous, how special Sam could make you feel with just a few light touches. Bleeding with tenderness, he caressed your shoulders, your cheeks, your jaw, your hair, feasting on you as you had him.

Sam pushed the meat of his thumb into your swollen lip. “Open for me. Yeah… oh, yeah, let me watch you put it in…”

Your lips parted, mostly out of shock—when had Sam started thinking like this? A deeper part of your mind registered it all as innocent teasing, since Sam could never hurt or demean you; he was the basest definition of good to you. Regardless, you were more than willing to obey, and opened wide, tongue splayed for the heavy head of Sam’s dick. The extra kick of his pre-come had your toes curling every single time. But combined with Sam’s ruddy-cheeked, enraptured staring, just one touch to your clit would bring you over the edge. You forced your knees apart on the floor and held off. Just in case Sam intended to keep his promise.

The easiest way to put Sam’s dick into words was by comparing it to a warm, solid lollipop that took up your whole mouth, like the twisty kind from the carnival that eclipsed your whole face, chin to forehead. You’d been mourning Sam’s scrawniness after his four years away at college, but now you were nothing but grateful for the extra mass. Sam was really, really big. Bigger than anyone else you’d been with. He could’ve been any size and you would’ve been just as rabid for him, but there was something specifically hot about sucking him down as far as you could and failing to hit the bottom. It took effort to get there. You lazily pumped what you had left of his shaft, and in slow, deliberate surges of your spit-wet mouth, you earned an inch, then another.

Sam moaned so gutturally you felt it rumble under your palms. It was so Sam, in that it was like any sound you’d ever heard him make, sighing at a stupid joke, snarling during a fight, but this time it was him losing it because you were giving him a blowjob. Because you’d snuck away like idiot teenagers and you were blowing him good and filthy in Baby’s front seat.

“I-I thought about you all day,” he licked his lips, “all week, like this… it’s, you are so much better than I thought… m’ gonna make you cum so good for me.”

You wished that he could feel the way your cunt had fluttered at that. All you could do in answer was hum in approval, since you were so drunk off him, off the girth pressing against the start of your throat, that you couldn't even lift your head to speak. You did the opposite, pushing down and surging Sam's length in deeper and further than you’d gone before. The half-hour you’d poured into warming up for this was instantly worth it. You were by no means an amateur. Blowjobs, as a sexual activity, were with ease your favorite—but deepthroating was where your real talent lay. Wielding your skill, you relaxed your sore jaw and pressed forward.

The initial burn waited for you there, but Sam’s reaction was priceless.

Every muscle in his body snapped in, a taut coil broken in one motion. A strangled gasp broke from his throat. Sam's entire torso bore forward and his hips surged up to your face in a voiceless gasp, which you’d been expecting. You pinned them back down and dug for it, giving him no room to breathe, mashing your nose into his abs and hanging there, lingering, suckling, gagging, so all Sam could feel was the soft, hot, velvet pulse of your throat around his spent cock.

“I’m. I-I—”

You sucked harder, bringing a wave of spit with you, and closed a hand around Sam’s closest fist. Drool seeped over your knuckles. He spasmed. His voice tore, cutting off.

It was a little hard, but with practice—and you could practice on Sam for days, if that’s what it took—the ache would fade. All the pleasure was in the act itself, in your own slobbering sounds, the drool, and above all else the punch-to-the-teeth thrill it gave. Every inch of Sam’s pretty virgin dick was stuffing your throat. You could barely hollow your cheeks around him, Sam was so thick. His cock pulsed, once, then twice, then over and over. No other person in the world could claim him like you could, and no other person would ever have him like you had.

Sam came, and hard.

His thighs snapped closed around your ribs. He hung in place bent up over you, twitching mid-sob. Both of his hands snapped around your head, then his arms in full, scrabbling across your back, crazed, heaving, coating you entirely in the woody smell of him.

You flattened your palms to his thighs and drew upward. When it was just half his shaft in your mouth, so coated in saliva that you were connected to it in cloying strings, you persisted. The first spurt of him on your tongue detonated a ruthless orgasm deep within you on the spot. You latched onto him as it crested through you, digging your nails into Sam’s rolling hips, back and toes curled, pressing closer and swallowing the mouth-watering load you’d been dying to taste for years now. It came with its own gratified explosion of ecstasy. Your pussy sobbed, clenching without end, wracking your whole body with delicious waves of mind-whiting pleasure. The taste of him conquered you—fuck, he tasted perfect, salty and organic and human and Sam. It was a sugar rush of earthy sweetness that burned straight to your overwrought core.

You could’ve unburied yourself and let Sam finish anywhere, since he was already so mindless underneath your spell that anything would’ve pleased him. But there was something potent and intimate in being able to taste him. His body—every divine inch of it was yours, and a piece of him was filling an empty place in you.

You should’ve guessed by the size of him alone, but christ, Sam came whole glassfuls. His cum bubbled up into your mouth and spilled out of the corners of your lips, and you relished in it, drinking him down, whorling your tongue around his fleshy head, soaking up every second of your hard work’s result. The taste of him overwhelmed and surrounded you. The act did. It was in every facet a religious experience, angels singing, clouds parting, the sun glowing over them—all of it. Sam went down your throat piping hot, and you swore you could feel his cum gliding all the way to your stomach.

You slipped off him with a gasp. Hoarse, weak sighs huffed from your blazing lungs.

Slowly, as your orgasm ebbed further from your mind, your surroundings filtered back in. Peeling yourself away from him effectively rebooted all the systems in your body again. You could hear the rain bearing down on the Impala’s windshield overhead. Both of your palms were sticky and cloying with saliva. The whole lower half of your face, your abused lips, your aching jaw, your glistening cheeks, were slathered with slick. Your throat felt raw but recently balmed, like you’d swallowed a spoonful of honey to heal a soreness. Each of your knees had been stuck in place for so long that they were both numb, so the scratchy blanket beneath them seemed to ripple with pins and needles.

And Sam. Sam’s weight was braced in his hands, pressed flat to the dash, putting your face between the long bridge-arch of his shoulders. He’d collapsed around you in the footwell, shuddering and gasping for breath, and through the sea of endorphins and hormones, he managed to press his tacky forehead to yours.

You panted together; you inhaled and so did he, atoms apart, nearly mouth to mouth. Sam’s hot breath fanned across your face, cooling the saliva there.

It was something out of some old Italian sculpture, a Pietà, two nude figures entwined, expressing their love in form alone. You were collapsed on your knees, a worshipper gazing up at your saint. Sam was bent over you almost uncomfortably, every fiber of his body yearning for closeness, but close wasn’t close enough to you, his face smushed into yours and his jaw slack.

He looked nothing short of lovesick.

Hands shaking, you cupped Sam’s face. You pressed your thumbs into his warm, flushed cheekbones, then his dimples when he smiled dizzily at you, his girl.

You swallowed. “Did you like that?” You closed her eyes, hoping aloud, “...Did I… did I do a good job for you, Sammy?”

Sam surprised you. The haziness in his eyes cleared more and more with each inhale, until eventually, he was blinking down at you without guile. He burst out laughing.

“...There’s no way it was that bad,” you deadpanned. It didn’t hold for long, with him giggling over you like that. You fought against a mean, vibrant smile and its matching flush. “Alright, Sam, shut up! Quit laughing, you ass! What the hell did I—”

With the seat pushed back as far as it was, Sam had the room to get his hands under your arms again and drag you up onto his lap in one sturdy motion. Your shoulders quaked with laughter the whole time. Suddenly, his face and chest and throat were flush with yours. It was enough to drive a person crazy. Like before, Sam slotted your mouths together. The difference this time was that his cum was all over your face—but Sam could care less. You went from kissing him to gaping, since Sam dotted each filthy lick of your tongues with a heavy lap across your cheek or your chin. Tasting himself. On you. Fucking hell.

“Stop gawking n’ kiss me,” Sam insisted. He pawed at your back for emphasis, then your shoulders from below, adjusting your weight on his thighs since in your shock you’d dropped on him completely.

(And that was definitely a hard-on scooping against your inner thigh. Fucking fuck. Jesus Christ. Holy shit, Sam.)

“You were better n’ good,” he shivered. Filthily and innocently all at once, he grinned, “...I can’t believe… that was how my first time went. I can’t believe you… You, you just…”

He struggled for words. Eventually, Sam purred: “You are a natural.”

I love you, you almost blurted. You deliberately filled your lungs to calm yourself down. Your arms were around Sam’s neck and he was gazing up at you, brimming with satisfaction and gratitude and boundless, unhidden love. Dangerous territory. His taste had sunk thick and sweet on your tongue, so you both moan when you share it with him in a surging kiss.

“Anytime,” you rasped, maybe sounding a bit desperate. You were. Sam was everything you wanted in a thousand different ways, so you refused to let the moment go. In the black darkness, you laid kisses into him until your lips tingled. “I fucking—ugh. That was perfect. You were perfect. If… if you ever want me like that again—”

“I do,” was Sam’s immediate, unflinching answer. “But… I have a condition.”

He swallowed. At first, you figured he was nervous, and knowing it was his first time you doubted he wasn’t. But then Sam’s eyes flashed. Both of his enormous hands smoothed down your waist, kneading the flesh, squeezing you around the sides so his thumbs were in your belly, then his fingers were sliding flat to your hip and down. They plucked under the waistband of your underwear—the last and only layer between you.

“Every time you go down on me,” his hungry, sultry gaze devoured yours, “I get to practice on you, too.”

part two.

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lil-sweater-slut · 1 year ago

Text

(you are a) natural, baby - p.2

read it on ao3.

Pairing: Virgin!Sam Winchester/AFAB!Reader (vaguely s1 or 2) Tags/Warnings: sex in the Impala, oral sex (f receiving), whiny/submissive Sam (with hints of the opposite), Sam being a pussy fiend, you get it 💅 Word Count: 16,202. Notes: part two, aka: THE GOOD STUFF. this bad boy has been sitting in my drafts for a hot minute. i thought it would be a fun little Halloween present while I'm between other projects :) pure sam goodness ahead, chaps ✨ enjoy! Ask to be added to my taglists for future posts!

"Every time you go down on me," his hungry, sultry gaze devoured yours, "I get to practice on you, too."

You adjusted your clammy hold around his neck, reminded of the emptiness between your legs. “Every time?”

“Every time,” Sam nodded. “But… mostly… other times, too. Any time. That I want. If you want, of course.”

You panted. “Yeah. A-anytime,” you echoed.

“S’ gonna be… a lot,” Sam warned. His chin dipped, stealing an open-mouthed, burning kiss against your quaking pulse. The sound his mouth made against your flesh was sloppy and hot in ways that would’ve destroyed anyone, but you most of all. “M’ not a quick study, ____. I’m gonna have to… take my time with you.”

“Uh-huh,” you squeaked.

Sam laved his tongue—which was ridiculously, pussy-wettingly broad—in one passionate drag from your collarbones to the center of your throat. “…I’ll have t’ be thorough. You know I only do things the right way, baby.”

Mindless, you squeezed your eyes shut. “I know y’ do,” you whined.

“You might have to coach me.” Sam pressed further, plotting open-mouthed kisses all over your pliant neck, just to make it clear the kind of things that tongue could do. “I wanna do it good for you…”

If you had the wherewithal to step back, you should’ve known that Sam was a quick study. A ridiculously quick study, since you’d had him under your spell for a little under an hour and he was already echoing back all the filthy things you’d said to him. He did learn fast. These next parts… he’d learn these very fast, too, even if you couldn’t keep up. The thought thrilled you. For once, a partner that could match you, surpass you. Sam being that partner… God. It wouldn’t have mattered if Sam was good—honest to God, it wouldn’t have. He could be the shittest partner on the planet, and you would still be here. But he wasn’t. What heroic, selfless feat had you accomplished to get this kind of good karma? To have Sam, and selfishly, for him to want you too?

Sam grinned up at you, feeling that same streak of luckiness. His accent was laden with sex, and hearing it in Sam’s voice—your best friend since childhood—when your head was (mostly) clear made you flush like a schoolgirl. It was every stupid high school fantasy come to life. Like the hot professor you had a crush on had asked to see you after class, but instead of boring homework talk, Sam had bent you over his desk and shoved his hands up your skirt like you wanted him to.

“Can you show me, ___?” Sam tilted his head until your noses were nudging, drawling into the immediate heat of your mouth, “How to make you feel good?”

You were so pumped full of arousal that you could hardly talk. You were aware again that you were topless, since the swell of your chest surged up against Sam’s, like the rest of you. He might’ve palmed you there if it wouldn’t mean peeling you off him, but it was clear that was all Sam could ask for—the shivering shape of you melted entirely against him. That was exactly the prize he’d carved out for himself. The bulb of Sam’s nose was smushed into your cheek and your breath mixed in the hair’s width between your mouths, which waited half open. Sam’s fingers sloped into the curve of your lower back, then up around your hips, tracing your waistband again and again. Jesus, he wanted it.

“You sure you’re a virgin?” You managed, laughing between pants.

Sam nodded, less bashful than he’d been when you’d poked him with that word before. He repeated himself: “But… you’ll show me?”

He was serious. Your legs were shaking without shame now, each tremor pouring straight into your helplessly wet core like you were sitting on a washing machine on its highest setting. You were sure you’d never been wetter in your entire life. It had left your underwear entirely, coating your inner thighs. Sam’s gaze never left yours if he could avoid it, yet you could tell that every fiber of his being was hyper-focussed on that space.

You still couldn’t believe your luck. You leaned back, just enough to get a read on Sam with your eyes instead of your hands, and tested.

“You really want this?” You resisted for his sake. “You don’t need t’ feel pressured or anything like that, okay? This is your first time. It should be about you. If you’re not 100%...”

Sam dipped his head in thought. When he came back up, his brow was set. “I want to try… And this is our first time.”

Your head shook of its own accord, mystified. You brushed your fingers over one of Sam’s dimples and downward, just feeling him, and the soft, yielding skin of your lover’s face. He gazed at you with big puppy eyes, mumbling, “How many times s’ somebody done this for you?”

“A couple,” you answered, purposefully bland. “Mostly, y’know, as a lead up to the big part.”

Sam snorted. “Yeah. The big part. Like that,” he gestured at his lap, “wasn’t the big part. Right.”

You allowed yourself to be smug. “I told you, baby. No complaints.”

Sam kept looking at you with those big, pretty eyes, and with each passing second you felt more like an ice cube in a bowl of hot soup, dissolving completely and effortlessly into him. He nodded. “Tell me what to do.”

You let that request sizzle comfortably under your skin for a moment, before taking Sam’s face between your thumbs and greeting him with a sweet kiss. A deep, pleasured sound seeped out of him, and you deserved some kind of reward for managing to peel yourself off Sam just as he was humming in your ear like that.

Maybe you're giving yourself away when you giddily order, “Let’s go to the backseat, huh?”

You helped Sam get his jeans back around his waist. This was accomplished with a generous amount of petting, from Sam and from you, squeezing him through his briefs and kissing him a little meaner than you should’ve. Now that you were permitted to touch him, nothing could stop you.

When you bend below the seat to pull the front bench forward, pouring heat across Sam’s lap and bringing your face close enough to nuzzle his dick, he flashes you a look that’s written all over with the bossy Sam you remember.

Technically you could stay up front, but there were fewer controls to collide with and more space in the back seat. You enjoyed the thought of fucking Sam in the back of the Impala, too… The whole car rocking, the glass fogging up… Dean was going to kill you if he ever found out. A nonsensical part of your mind that had been spoiled too much today almost wanted Dean to know, just so everyone would. Just so it’d be in the air that Sam’s virginity had been taken, and you had been the one to do it.

“Think you can climb over?” You cleared your throat.

Sam waved for you to go first. You weren’t halfway over the bench, sweat-slick and nude but for petal-thin underwear, when Sam darted out the passenger’s side—into the furious rainstorm. Your back hadn’t even hit the other seat by the time Sam was back in the car, but still. The door slammed behind him, softening the sound of the rain. You shuffled up onto your elbows, cursing him, but Sam didn’t care one bit. Just two seconds outside had soaked him from head to toe. Rainwater twisted in his bangs and slithered in long lines down his back, dotting his shoulders. You hadn’t been too diligent putting his pants back on, so the droplets rolled over his hips and into the low waistband of his jeans too. You maneuvered so you were sitting on your calves in the back seat, and Sam paralleled you, wild and determined. He took up half the backseat with his legs alone.

“Don’t give me that look. It was faster,” he mumbled, smiling.

You played annoyed, but then Sam slithered in and kissed you again, greedy and desperate: conditions impossible to pretend in. You give up on scolding him. Getting your arms around his shoulders, you dragged yourself into his lap and struggled a bit on his slippery skin. He helps you the rest of the way. Sam goes the extra mile, too, putting all of your weight on his thighs and rolling his hips up. A little shock of pressure meets you once you’re seated on him.

“Sam,” you yelped.

“You like that?”

He asked as if you weren’t white-knuckling the meat of his shoulders, but you nodded anyway. Throatily, you managed, “Keep going.”

Sam does as told, stirring his bulge up between your legs, making your head loll back until your throat is vertical and you’re purring like a new sportscar. Tortured pleasure throbs up your body. After almost an hour of teasing, of getting off just watching him, even the smallest contact is explosive. You’re honest-to-god quivering. You huffed out deep, rattling breaths and kissed him until your lungs burned. He yields for you—he always does—letting your tongue lick hot through his parted lips. You want him like nothing else. Between your legs, yes, but kissing is closer and you throb every time he surges up in response. Sam is nothing but pretty, senseless noises. It devours you from the inside, how precious and perfect and everything he is, your Sam. Kissing him kickstarts a chemical reaction in your body unlike anything else you’ve ever felt before, soft and musical, like a field of a million fireflies blinking in a hundred ways at night. You rock your body into his and Sam responds every time, the push and pull of your hips rolling to a hypnotic tempo. The next time you withdraw from him to breathe, you stroke his face in both hands, your baby, and kiss him all over until he’s sick of you, kissing his cheek, his chin, his dimples, his jaw, his brow.

Sam had to close both eyes to protect them. “_____,” he whined.

“Quit complainin’,” you drawled, grinning, “let me be obsessed with you.”

Sam squinted, and even in the dark you could see how blown his pupils were. He smiled. “You gonna start kissing up my arm, now? Like in the movies?”

You, of course, took this as a request.

“Oh, cara mia… ”

Collecting his hand in yours, you turned inwards and pushed a deep, lingering kiss into Sam’s palm, then his wrist, looking up at him through your lashes after each devoted press. By the time you were in the middle of his forearm he was sucking in air through his teeth. He’d been playing, but it seemed to be really riling him. You gleamed with delight. You surged one into the center of his elbow, then his warm bicep and up, across his rain-slick shoulder and all the moles there. Sam’s chest heaved. The taut muscles in his arm twitched after each touch, sensitive after so much. Maybe you cheated a bit, skipping straight to his neck after that, but it was a miracle you’d held out any longer. You twisted and plotted open-mouthed, possessive, fervored kisses all over Sam’s throat.

“Oh god,” Sam shudders. His head thudded against the seat. “____. Please.”

The salty tang of sweat and the earthy touch of rain in his taste turned on your lewdest instincts, and all you wanted was Sam’s fingers on you. Inside you. Some part of him, any part of him. Your core blazed with an empty, bottomless feeling. You’d put yourself aside to give your all for Sam, but now the pounding neediness of your arousal was too strong to ignore.

You captured Sam by the wrists and brought his hold over your breasts, moaning, “Touch me.”

Sam gave you a wild look. His warm, huge hands sloped around your ribs and tentatively slid up to cup your tits in both palms. It wasn’t a forceful examination. It’s Sam, greedy and turned on, sure, but he’s nothing but gentle with you, squeezing you feather-light and testing the feel of you in his palms.

“I wanna—” Sam groans, going shy, “I wanna bite you. Can I bite you? Not hard, o-or—”

You're grinning before he can finish. “Fuck yeah.”

Sam goes for the closest thing, your jaw, breathing loud and shaky. Whatever it is about the sound that squeaks out of you unlocks some primal urge in him. Sam bites the meat of your shoulder, using just enough teeth to leave a mark. The stinging pressure is soothed immediately by his hot soft tongue in starved little licks. Sam's learned to just take—both of your tits are squeezed in big, calloused Kansas hands as you're nibbled on.

While you’re sucking new red patches into Sam’s spit-soaked throat, he gives himself one last second to soak in the feel of it before he nudges you away.

“Enough. It’s your—god, s’ your turn,” he insists. “C’mon. Let’s get these off. Please.”

Sam pets at your underwear. Wiping the spit from your chin, you tilted back in Sam’s lap, wincing at even that pressure, and thought. “Al-alright. But… but maybe I should start on my back.”

He pouted. “I wanted to—”

“I know,” you shushed, and grinned filthily over his ridiculousness. “I’ll sit on your face, I promise. But it’ll be better if we start this way, okay? You need to crawl before you can walk here, Sammy.”

You expected Sam to be stubborn as usual, since he insisted on proving himself with everything else. Your resolve was so weak-kneed for him that you probably would’ve let him. It was Sam, begging through sex-swollen lips to just let him fuck you with his mouth, which any reasonable person would’ve crumbled for. And your throbbing, neglected core made you more than reasonable. Instead, Sam went out of his way to surprise you for tonight's hundredth time. He wasn’t always stubborn. He could beg for you to suck his dick like no one else. And, he would forever be keeping you on your toes.

Sam kept you sturdy with both unreasonably huge hands clamped around your hips. Then, he turned up onto his knees, dunking you out of his lap and back onto the seat just hard enough to make you bounce. The Impala creaked in protest. When your spine was flat to the black leather, Sam slithered over you and uttered into your ear, sexy and starved:

“It’s Sam.”

You couldn’t help the grin that transformed your face. Or the senseless, merciless throbbing in your panties. Your hair was a mess around your head (or in general) because of him, and with how dark your eyes were, you must’ve looked a few steps away from rabid. Sam did; he panted above you, his seething, ravenous body hanging over yours like an predator over a prey animal. From this angle, the view of him was fucking spectacular. Sam was a wall of taut, sloping muscle covered in all these pretty little freckles. An old pair of jeans hung uselessly on his hips, open at the zipper around an ardent hard-on. Since all of that apparently wasn’t enough, your center was flush right up against it, so when Sam leans forward you feel—all of it, big and warm and iron-hard for you. Just fuck me already, you almost groaned.

You’d barely thought about your own body since Sam’s had captivated you so much, but it was clear he was just as consumed by you. Mouth watering, Sam dropped his hands to frame your ribcage and just looked at you, awed and enamored with what he was seeing. Who he was looking at.

You gazed up at him the exact same way, biting down a mean grin. “Sam, huh.”

He shot you a dark look, which was just hilarious, since he was still looking at you for guidance.

You reached up and slid your fingers into Sam’s damp, lush bangs, stroking them away from the gleaming eyes you loved. You teased, “That’s what you want me to call you when you eat me out, baby? Sam?”

Sam’s lids slid closed. You brushed over his brow with your thumb, maybe enjoying torturing him a bit too much for your own good. His silhouette snaked up to hang over you, and in the dark Sam oozed affection and love.

“My Sam?” You murmured, “That’s what you want me to scream, huh? When you get that pretty mouth between my legs?”

A groan bubbled up from his chest, and Sam poured it into the valley between your breasts. In it was the result of more than an hour’s worth of ruthless, unsatiated teasing, plus at least twelve years spent with a painful crush on you. Before Sam did anything else, he removed his worst enemy from the equation. The skimpy black underwear you had worn were on you and then they weren’t. You opened your mouth to rib him for his haste and Sam was already there, kissing you into the seat so furiously the springs squealed. You squealed too, arching up and finding a broad, heated body layered over your own. The untouched backseat was freezing cold, which was just another reason to soak into Sam and Sam’s touch. Now entirely nude, it was painfully obvious how soaking wet you were. You should’ve been lightheaded with how much slick your body was making for Sam.

“S’ what you’re gonna be screamin’ when I make you cum,” he dared.

You did your best not to let the cartoon hearts floating around your head seem too obvious. “Show me.”

Sam hovered over you then, lips parted and eyes shining. “How do I start?”

“Okay, cowboy,” You adjusted yourself on your back, forgetting to tamp down the euphoric, thrilled energy that had already put you on cloud nine just laying there. You’d tried to put a lot of your own feelings aside for Sam, but now that he wanted them you could only willingly hand them over. “When you’re… doing this for somebody, you should—”

“No, no,” Sam shook his head. His bangs tickled your forehead. “I’m not doing this for somebody, I’m doing this for you.” Wetting his lips, he said, “Talk like it’s for you. Please.”

Your blush was not a horny blush or a drunk one, but a result of your stupid, inescapable crush on him. Holy hell. You might’ve been smiling. “...Okay. Sam. To start, just… kiss me all over. Anywhere you want. You don't always have ta’, but it's the warm-up before the—”

“—other big part?” Sam finished.

You nodded as casually as you could. “Yup.”

Sam raised a dry eyebrow. “Want me to kiss you like you kissed me?”

“You like me that much?” You joked.

Sam’s head tilted, eyes alight. “Oh, mon cher… M’ crazy about you.”

So maybe the two of you had watched too much Addams Family as kids, but if this was the result, you couldn’t mind if you tried. Your pounding heart could’ve burst, you loved him so much.

Sam proved what he said. Bent over you, he lingered for a moment, trying to decide where to start. He ended up in his new favorite place. Drinking you in with low eyes, Sam tipped your faces together and met you with a surging, devouring kiss. Instead of the possessive pawing or the filthy groping you had expected, Sam dragged just his fingertips over the slopes of your curves. The gentleness of it somehow gushed with intensity, so just the slightest touch from him had you hissing with want. His fingers were calloused. They pet from the dip of your collarbones all the way down to your belly button in the most sexually agonizing minute of your life, each inch of flesh enjoyed to the absolute fullest. You rolled your hips up, hoping and praying that he’d drag those fingers further, but Sam didn’t. Again: a quick study.

One long finger tapped the softest part of your belly. “...Can I bite you here?”

“Sammy,” you felt your eyes glaze with desire. “You can do anything you want to me.”

The line he’d drawn on your chest tingled hard enough to send every hair on your body on end, so Sam’s mouth—that hot, wet, gorgeous mouth, made to be between a woman’s legs—was a million times more intense. Sam took his time. He got comfortable, urging your thighs apart with his hips, then dutifully bent to kiss your collarbone. Those maddening hands traced down your ribs, then your belly. He applied just enough pressure to make lines in sand. Sam kissed and caressed you like he was sculpting you right there in the car, squeezing your clay-malleable body for its shape. Again, his soft seeping kisses were improved by needy bites.

You knew that you probably shouldn’t compare, but Sam was… Sam was leaps and bounds more passionate than any other partner you’d ever had. This confirmed it: you were madly in love with him, movie-in-love with him, which might’ve made you a bit biased, but it was true. Sam was fucking awesome. He felt fucking awesome. His soft lips seared down the center seam of your ribs with intent, smushing his nose and chin into your breasts, your belly, licking wide stripes over each hollow and nuzzling his face into you. Other men had done something similar, but none of them were him. So none of them had felt nearly as mind-whiting. Maybe it was because Sam had never done this before, but there was something different in how he went about touching. It wasn’t exactly methodical. He was trying to do a good job, but more than that he was trying to juice some real pleasure out of you. For Sam, the act of eating you out wasn’t an obligation. It was a damn pleasure.

You weren’t sure if you believed all the stuff they said about true love, but man, you hoped it would feel like the first time every time with him. Like it did now.

Sam shuffled forward to give the underside of your chin a brief peck, then turned both his hands onto your tits, kneading and appreciating them until you were making the same noises he’d been making earlier. You're drooling like a camgirl when Sam nuzzles his face between them. His eyes flick up to you once, turning audience into performer, and you're left wriggling and bucking when Sam bites the underside of your breast, crazed with an endless appetite for your skin. He really is a biter.

“So soft,” Sam husked. His eyes flicked up at you from below his bangs, instantly making you clench.

Your laugh tinkled like sleighbells. Your whole body blazed with light and energy in ways you didn’t know you could feel, all of it filling you in surging, boundless waves. And every bit of your reactions were so honest. It made you realize just how often you’d lied during sex, before. You ramped up the little pornographic sounds you thought boys liked, bucked when expected, and closed your eyes more. Sam coaxed those whiny little noises from you anyway. With his face smushed into your breasts and those fawn-brown eyes just craving you, you closing yours would be the dumbest missed opportunity of all time.

“Talk to me,” you gasped. “I love it when you— ah .”

“You’re beautiful,” Sam gushed, like he’d been waiting for permission. He gave your left breast one last kiss, then started to crawl down your body in earnest, shocking your system with anticipation. “So damn pretty. And so soft … Losin’ my damn mind, you’re so good, ____… Gonna fuck you with my mouth. Gonna fuck you so good.”

You whimpered, “Yeah, baby?”

He nodded messily. “Mhm. I’ve thought about it,” he sucked saliva back through his teeth, closing his eyes just to revel in the mounting excitement of it, “all day.”

Then Sam’s plush, wet lips pressed open-mouthed into your stomach, kissing your belly button then the skin below, bumping his teeth on you, making you writhe and mewl. He made all these desperate keening sounds into your flesh as he went. Coupled with his panting and his lips puckering and popping as he kissed you, you knew you were fucking done for. The second that tongue laved over you for the first time you’d be three miles over the edge already.

Now that he was so close to where you wanted, you got your fingers in Sam’s luscious hair and tried to reign yourself back. You were embarrassingly close and Sam hadn’t even kissed you there yet. The space between your legs was so desperate it was sore , this strange, hollow soreness that craved something thick to fill it end-to-end. It was damn evil. You didn’t have to rely on fantasy anymore when it came to what could fill you, but you resisted the urge, knowing exactly what it would do to you. One too-intense thought about Sam’s dick… his huge, filling cock, which had felt so good puffing out your cheeks… inside you, scratching that itch… satisfying that soreness in one great thrust… or a dozen… and you might die. You had to hold out. But Sam Winchester was about to eat you alive, so you stood absolutely no chance.

He waited for his next order. Sam must’ve been truly intent on destroying your psyche, since he scraped his nails around your hips and ass as he did. You couldn’t drag your eyes away from his face. Soft, hazel and mouth-frothingly ravenous, Sam’s gaze raked over you in long and possessive drags.

You suppressed the instinct to squirm with Sam watching you like that, directing, “Spread my legs more, then get them where you’re comfortable.”

He was listening before you’d even finished your sentence, bracing two man-paws over the swell of your thighs and pressing them apart. Wetness cloyed just inches away from his fingers.

“God,” Sam sighed at the sight. He sounded awed, not fully believing his own influence over you: “You’re really, really wet. This whole time…”

You cursed with him, hissing at the freezing air on your exposed pussy. Sam tilted closer and closer to you, drawn in like a magnet, until his hot breath was fanning deliciously close to your core. You choked down a second hiss, wetting your grinning lips, “Yeah. I’ve been half-soaked since this afternoon.”

Sam’s eyes lit up with his scoff, delighted yet sympathetic. “Why? That’s almost half a day.”

“At the laundromat,” you confessed, “n’ we were washin’ everything… you just had that stupid thin t-shirt on and your jeans were so low I knew you weren’t wearing anything under em’… I wanted you to fuck me so bad , Sam, right then and there on the machines. Drag down my leggings and just wail on me…”

Sam’s patchy blush returned in full force. He ducked his head, huffed a breath in disbelief, and pretended he wasn’t entertaining the idea just as thoroughly. “You’re insatiable.”

“Like you aren’t?” You snickered. You flopped backward, hair splayed out behind you and your hands lounging beside your face. “You can’t share a bed with me without practically shoving my hands down your pants, Sammy.”

“It was under my shirt,” he corrected, pinching the meat of your thigh where it was hooked around his. “And—it’s Sam .”

Even that felt shamefully good. You ground into the touch and played up an erotic moan for him, and of course, grinned like an asshole the whole time. “Mmmn, Sam . You don’t know what it does t’ me when you get all demanding.”

Sam dragged in a deep, sucking breath through his nose that almost failed to keep his restraint in check. His palm passed over his bulge in thought, instantly loading you with a truckload of adrenaline. Jesus—like a dog with the dinner bell. Instead of giving up and drilling you into the seats like a part of you wanted right now , Sam’s hands nudged your thighs apart again, patient, and spread your pussy open with his thumbs.

“Jesus fuck , Sam,” you choked.

“You’re so pretty down here.” Sam sounded amused. He makes pretty sound like purty .

“Thank you,” you panted, and somehow kept yourself from shoving Sam’s face where he was staring. “Okay. Okay. When you’re… doing this for a girl—” Sam’s eyebrow raised. “When you’re eating me out, there’s a couple places where it’s gonna feel really good. Like really good. That’s where you need to aim. I know all the tricks, so listen closely.”

Sam nodded, 100% serious. Because of course he was. Your chest felt like it was stuffed full of whizzing sparklers when you held eye-contact, and they went off all at once when Sam neared his face to your sobbing core. Your breath stuttered in your lungs. You realized you couldn’t explain it well enough with words alone, so you brought your hand off the seat and slid it between your legs. A pleased sound jumped out of Sam’s throat. And shit, did all that attention—your finger sliding over yourself, Sam’s thumbs parting you for him to see, and his focus rapt on your cunt—feel fucking great .

Wetting your lips and bracing yourself, you shyly found Sam’s thumb and pressed the blunt of it against your clit. “Right— oh , right here,” you panted.

You guided him around each part, explaining to him through clenched teeth and a little bit of humor. Sam was nothing but a devout student. You couldn’t lie to yourself: it drove you fucking insane, how dedicated Sam was to knowing how to make you feel good. It was so strange but so him—his brow furrowed and his eyes sharpened the way they always did when he was truly absorbing something, listening to you walk him through licking you open. He hung on your every word, storing the knowledge beside his laundry list of demonic omens or hexbag herbs. You were crazy for him. He was crazy.

“...and brace your hand right here when you’re ready.” You modeled for him where to place his palm, right on the height of your pelvic bone. “I might wiggle around, so you might have to—”

Sam was way ahead of you. He snuggled up between your legs, saddled the one closest to the backrest over his shoulder, and hugged that thigh against him. Then the whole breadth of his left palm clamped down on your twitching belly exactly where you’d directed, pinning you to the spot. You yelped. Sam’s smoldering cheek smushed into your inner thigh, and he simpered at you from his new comfortable nest. He blinked slowly on purpose, a cat expressing its love. After all the filth that you’d heard from him, nothing could change your mind that he was the sweetest, most basic definition of goodness there was.

Sam watched you with hungry, devouring eyes, and felt lust pulse in his cock when you smirked down at him. Your dark eyes glittered with challenge and fondness. “Samuel…” you warned.

“Shh,” he said, and did what he’d always wanted to do.

The first kiss of Sam’s mouth to your weeping pussy is… it is…

Your entire body pulls together, thread pulling two pieces of cloth into a single seam, toes curling, fingers knotting, jaw dropped, belly twitching, and back snapping up. The slow open-mouthed kiss finds a little suction around your clit, flooding Sam’s tongue for the first time. He basks in you—in your taste, your reaction. An onslaught of pure enjoyment envelops him, drinking you down. Sam’s brows furrowed up in ecstasy, and the bastard actually grinned into your cunt, satisfaction pouring off him in waves. You watched him and those low eyes watched you, already spellbound. This strange brand of utter happiness consumed his gaze, devouring you with his eyes—and you realize with burning heat crawling up your body that Sam just loved to watch you. He wanted to watch you squirm and twist up into him. He wanted you to enjoy yourself, just so he could feel the effect he had on you in real time. Your pussy sobs in bliss, pulsing and pulsing under painfully soft kisses.

“No wonder you’re so wet,” Sam rasps, “you’re already close, aren’t you?”

You conceded with a pathetic nod, breathing hard.

“All this just from blowing me…” Sam smirks.

That smirk opens up, and so do you—two licks and you’re his, all his, giving yourself over to him completely. Sam accepts you at his own pace. The abused blunts of his free fingertips just barely ghost over your open, trembling thigh, bewitching every cell in your legs. Somehow, the lighter he pets you the more intensely you feel it. Perfect ghostly tingles sizzle hot under your skin—the flesh of your pelvic bone, your core, following Sam’s touch. He’s examining you. Feeling you out. You realize that nobody’s taught him how to activate that sensory secret, so Sam is doing it purely because he wants to.

There’s a dim thought in your mind that the backseat of the Impala is pretty cramped with Sam bent over you like this, so you try to squirm back to give his poor legs some room. Your head doesn’t even glimpse the armrest. There’s a flash of vieny hands and a black jelly bracelet, then you’re ripped forward by both thighs down into Sam’s blazing hot mouth again.

“Sam!” You squeal a laugh. “Haha—ah, oh… ”

Sam remained devoted to your clit, kissing it with the same passion he kissed you. At first he seemed hesitant to go where his intuition was taking him, but you’d made it more than clear that his intuition could fuck you six ways to Sunday if he wanted, so Sam went with his gut. Now, with both of your thighs wrapped around his head, he was truly in his happy place.

Letting his mouth slip open, Sam splayed his tongue and shook his face back and forth between your legs. Your moans were helplessly involuntary. The sight of him alone was enough to make you question how real this was, but the pulses of slippery pressure surging up your cunt confirmed it. Some creature on your last hunt hadn’t missed their chance—meaning this, your highlight reel of reserve Sam fantasies, was your heaven. Sounded about right. You dragged your heavy head off the seat long enough to look at him, only to clench so hard that even Sam felt it. He beamed. Fuck, he was gorgeous. And Sam only looked prettier with your slick drooling down his chin like that.

He was so fucking good. So good. Inexperience be damned, this boy could fucking eat . Even better, he fucked you into a nice, warm, sloppy mess and gorged blatantly on the sight of you the whole time.

When you mewled and begged, when your back cinched up, when your breasts rolled with your heaving breaths, Sam drunk you in. You were so sweaty that the two of you were sliding on the seats and you probably looked as pleasantly manhandled as you felt, but Sam loved it. Craved it. His eyes were glittering black slits beneath his bangs, just rushing with lust and overwhelming devotion. Laying in that backseat, you were the hottest woman alive—a statue of Venus come to life, plush, naked skin and all—because it was written all over Sam’s taste-drunk face.

You couldn’t resist stroking your fingers through his sweaty, rain-curled hair, and Sam followed the motion to push a tender kiss into your clit.

Again, his strong, worn hands slid down to cup around the round bottom of your thighs so he could spread you with his thumbs. Sam made a gratified sound in the back of his throat. For a long time he just stared down at your open folds framed by his thick fingers, watching his spit sink into you and getting redder and redder by the second. This was what you meant, thinking his inexperience added something special to this. He had so little reference for what to do, so he acted on craving and instinct alone. And if his instinct was to slot his tongue into you and moan loud enough to shake the car at your taste, then… well…

“Soaking,” he muttered. Sam’s low, dark eyes glittered up at you, “You loved blowing me, didn't you?”

“I do,” you panted.

Sam brought your knees around the back of his head, then rasped: “Tell me how much.”

Perv. You tried to come up with something to say. Something more sexy than revealing, but it was impossible to think, breathe, or talk when Sam started flickering the tip of his tongue over your clit until his jaw was sore. What drools out of your mouth ends up sounding needy and clingy and possessive:

“I love sucking your dick, baby. F-felt so good… so good and big filling up my mouth, pressing into my cheeks… Chokin’ and gaggin’ on it… God. Fucking fuck , Sammy—”

He pinches both your thighs in one mean singe, but his eyes gleam with playfulness.

“— Sam! ” You correct yourself.

Satisfied, he resumes, nudging the long point of his nose into you just for the fun of it. Sam keeps tossing his head back and forth to feel your thighs around his face, and more than once he uses you as earmuffs to thrive in the crushing softness. You know Sam isn’t trying to coax any confessions out of you. All he wants is to make you feel good. But love glows from his eyes and his mouth and his hands. Sam full-on snarls with relish when you squeeze your knees and ankles together behind his head, so he could get anything out of you right now. All he’d have to do is ask: and you would answer in a heartbeat.

“I’m so… oh, fuck fuck fuck—m’ so happy m’ the only girl who’s blown you, Sam… I wanna be the only girl, I wanna be your only girl…”

Sam’s mouth pops off you in shock. He’s the prettiest silhouette, all gleaming spit-white outlines and red-patched shadows. Real horror drops like a rock into your stomach. Shit. You’d read into all of this wrong. Sam just wanted someone he could trust to do this for him, not some idiot crying over him for closeness.

He catches his breath.

“You can be,” Sam croaks, sweetly. “Y-you are.”

Happiness explodes in your chest, but you don’t trust it. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Sam agrees. He slides up your body all of a sudden, long limbs and bull-wide chest coming to hang over you. A big, dimply smile smushes into your cheek. “You’re my girl.”

Just like that. Oh my fucking god.

“I’m your girl?” You repeat, feeling stupid and crazily, madly, obsessively, fatally in love with him at the same time. He’s sober. He’s saying it to you like he means it. Definitely a heaven fantasy.

“Not like… you know. Mine . I don’t own you,” Sam flushes into your neck. He’s so shy . “But. Yeah, mine. My girl. If you… want that.”

You feel the dark car get darker, bathed in quiet, sacred night, so all you have left to see him by is your hands. Sam is miles of smooth, warm skin that smells of a buttery home that nobody could ever take from you. When you relax your legs by his hips and hug him against you, Sam drizzles himself over you like oil in a hot pan. He’s careful not to hurt you so the weight is nothing but good. You both linger there, pressing the tension and anxiety out of each other. His hard-on is trapped between your hips and his jeans, but instead of it being just arousing, there’s an element of plain intimacy there that you suddenly love. Sam’s close to you and you’re close to him. Maybe you’re as touch-starved as he is, because you’re just as quick to slide your naked belly flat to his and get your hands on him. It’s hard to pet someone all over and hide how in love with them you are at the same time, and you’re plain awful at it. Sam too.

“M’ all yours,” you find yourself saying, in disbelief. “You know that.”

Sam does that little breathless laugh you’re pretty sure you’re gonna hear a million times in those seven minutes before you die. He makes a soft rumbling sound as he rises onto all fours again, flushing all the blood in your body back between your legs. The blunt pad of his thumb brushes down to stir your clit, so you’re already pliant and boneless for him when Sam melts down to kiss your whining mouth. It’s a soft and open and wanting kiss, like usual, but you both linger in it for so long that it feels like the first time all over again.

You come out of the kiss giddy, over-teased, and flustered beyond your wildest imagination, so you blurt the first obscene thought that comes to mind. Just to throw him off, per routine.

Pushing your hips into his agonizingly slow touch, you purr, “You gonna fuck me, Sam?”

Sam blinks down at you, serene, and doesn’t change pace. He keeps one lazy hand attending to your sobbing, desperate clit. “Mn-mn,” he shakes his head, and there it is—the patented Winchester panty-dropping smirk, 100% effectiveness guaranteed. “I’m gonna make love to you.”

It is embarrassing enough how hard you throb at a promise so sentimental, so it’s downright mortifying that molten-hot butterflies explode through your crush-pumped body at the sureness in Sam’s face. Not fuck. He’s not going to fuck you—it’s clear in his eyes and the slow circle of his thumb how all that’s for later. Sam’s going to make love to you, because apparently he’s from the fucking fifties, and oh my god, he’s in love with you and he actually means it and you’ve been stupidly calling all of this a game.

Shyer than you’d ever been in your life, you murmured around a cheek-aching smile, “...I think I really want that.”

“So she can be shy with me.”

You gave his shoulder a playful little smack, which just spurs Sam into giving you the hottest, smuggest glare he can manage. With his big, rough thumb keeping you sensitive literally anything he does is fuckin’ life-alert worthy. It’s almost getting to be too much, and it shows in how you squirm into his hand harder than before. Sam coos.

“You’ll have to wait a bit to have me that way,” he apologizes, like that’s something to apologize for. “I still want you on my face.”

“M’ not gonna make it,” you swallow. Just the coarseness of his voice brings you closer. “Sam. It feels—nnngh. I-I’m not gonna…”

“Then I’ll make you cum twice,” he says, simply, and how were girls not crawling all fucking over him everywhere you went?

Sam replaces his thumb with his mouth, but not before sucking off your wetness like it’s melted ice cream. He is full of millions of these soft, tender, greedy urges he’s all too eager to chase, and it is stupid-hot.

Sam indulged one of those urges, pulling your folds open with his thumbs and filling them with his tongue. You shrieked. A happy hum sighed out of him. He was an excellent kisser, but, like always, he was even better for you, slurping and licking until you’re lightheaded. The delicious tension in your body ratcheted up and up toward that white-hot end, tearing straight for it on rumbling racecar wheels. Sam drew circles around your pulsing clit with his velvet tongue, then surged it hard into your weeping center, satisfying, for just an instant, the unforgiving emptiness there. Shit. Now he really knew where you wanted him. A long, savage whine hissed out of you. Fucking hell.

“Oh my god, please , Sam. More, please please please. Fucking—”

Your toes curled into Sam’s bow-taut back. He smushed himself in even harder, nuzzling his nose into you, stirring the bulb around your clit and god , tongue-fucking you in earnest. It was—holy shit, holy fucking shit, you couldn’t even think. All your body knew was open: your legs, for Sam, your body, for Sam, and your pride. You wailed and sobbed like no other man had ever made you before, reduced to shameless pleasure-drowned scraps. Every fiber of your useless, pliant form was heaved toward the center of the universe where your body met his, the black hole, the singularity, back bent, toes and fingers curled to a snapping point, Sam’s mouth oh god his fucking mouth —

“Tell me you’re mine,” Sam begged, licking and licking and licking until you couldn't think, “ Tell me .”

“I’m yours Sam m’ all yours m’ all fuckin’ yours—”

You were his. You came in great, crashing, seizing waves that rippled hot and harmoniously through your entire body, from the curled tips of your toes to your tingling scalp, so intensely—because you were Sam’s, Sam wanted you, he loved you—that you felt dangled over the most thrilling brink of your life. You’d cum enough times in your life to know it wasn’t possible to feel this good—slippery velvet heat good, oh god his mouth good—so it had to be some kind of magic, something close to death, to heaven, and Sam had killed you. If that was what was happening outside the planet-wide fireworks show sizzling and popping behind your closed eyes, you’d have everything you’d ever wanted and more. Sam keeps lapping between your legs a-and what a way to go it is, because you know, instantly, that no other man could even nudge you in the direction of the orgasm Sam had just brought you through. No one else could ever compare. The moment when it all will slow, you’re sure that you’re never going to be the same person again. You’re his. The words sing through your whole fizzing, flashing spirit.

After what felt like hours of delicious, mind-blowing, heart-stealing pleasure, you curled back into the ice-cold relief of the Impala’s leather and gasped for your life.

Sam was still going. His tongue never stopped, scooping in to taste the fruit of his labor. He slurped your orgasm down like he’d been chasing your peak just as fervently as you had, like it was his favorite part of his fantasies and the real slippery wetness of it was a million times better. You keened. Sam persisted. You squirmed away, groaning at the overload of soft tongue and deep hot breaths on your core. Your sex wept for mercy. Sam had reduced you to a weeping, twitching, floundering mess, yet he still wanted more—and you were dying to give it to him, but it was too much to o much too m—

“Sam,” you choked.

It took a push to the face to get through to him, and even then, Sam retreated with a soft mournful sigh. Jesus. He was obsessed with you. You wanted this, him, the aftertaste of him in your mouth, to never fade. So the feeling is definitely mutual.

The air in the Impala cloyed with sticky sweet warmth, coating the windows and the seat with the smell of you and him. Your throat ached from hoarse moaning. Slowly, your soul started to sink back into your body, reminding you again of your situation. A tacky layer of sweat clung to your skin. Your toes and your belly and the muscles of your legs were raw from clenching so hard, and Sam was blowing hot breaths across your tummy as he gathered himself. His damp hair tickled your hip and jesus , your slick was all over his face, smeared down his chin and his nose and his lips most of all. You realized that happy tears had made tracks down your temples. Sam must’ve realized this too, because he rushed to peel himself off your soaked and sticky inner thigh to scoop you up.

“Honey…” he cooed.

You reached out for him and Sam lifted you up himself, completely changing the bloodflow in your body by seating you on his lap. His whole figure was blazing hot, and watching you cum because of him was definitely not helping him cool off. It was an emotional orgasm as much as it was a physical one, so nothing stopped you from rolling your fingers through his floppy bangs or burning kisses into his grin or digging your nails into his firm back. You could feel the raised scratch marks there, bright red and drawn like wing scars down his shoulder-blades. His skin felt ridiculously nice smushed around your own, and Sam was so big and huggable that you disappear in his arms.

“You did so good , Sam,” you croaked, and didn’t bother to wait until you’re not kissing him to talk. “So good. So fuckin’ good. Never came fucking harder in my entire life —” you seared a kiss into his pink mouth, “—holy—” another, “—fucking—” and a third, even deeper, “—shit.”

Sam met you halfway for each, but the moment your assault was over, one big hand supported your jaw as he plants a sweet, slow, sappy one on you that makes you wonder just how necessary condoms are, anyway. He’s laughing to himself the whole time, gleaming with mole-speckled pride.

Draped in his arms like a damsel, you drawled, “You’re a damn natural.”

“You know that after one round?” Sam smirked. He was all too aware that his lips were all glossy from tongue-fucking you, and he licked them without shame when he offered, “I dunno. Maybe I should give it a second go, just to be sure. What do you think?”

Your pussy is raw with millions of zinging overstimulated pulses, but the question buries you under a cement truck’s worth of pure want.

“...Mmm, I guess you’re right. Better get a bigger testing pool here, Sammy.”

The force of your high is still pulsing in your core, so when Sam growls at you through a laugh, bangs astray, drops onto his back and snaps those man-paws you love around your waist, you throb hard enough to stop your heart. Sam’s hands are beautiful and sinewy in all the right ways, so you can’t help but submit when they, coupled with Sam’s arms, bodily haul you onto his face. You pant, giggle, and try not to crash face-first through the window by catching yourself on the armrest. Sam helps to brace you with a hand curled around your hip and another surged up the flat of your back.

Your thighs aren’t even settled on your calves when his tongue slips into the clutch of your pussy again. The squeal that shocks out of you makes Sam chuckle. (Which you feel up close and personal). His first suckling kisses are so perfect, you swear you could split the leather armrest with your nails. Tense overstimulation ratchets your cramped limbs to a snapping point, until Sam’s insistent lapping draws you… slowly… into rampant pleasure. Your joints melt into the inside-going-out burn just under your skin. All your worries about choking him dissolve like salt into water; the next rapid flicks of his tongue underline in red, please don’t be gentle .

And fuck, does he look sexy suffocated by your cunt like that. Your thighs swell around his face so prettily, and he’s already so invested that you can’t see his mouth or nose—just feel them all wedged up against you. He closes his eyes to savor that first taste of you again, giving you a flash of soft dark lashes on cheeks flushed hot enough to melt ice. His happy groan vibrates right to your core. Sam is already intimately educated in ways to drive you crazy, so he returns to them straight away. He licks you soft between your folds then darts his tongue hard into your center. If he wants to make you gasp a certain way, he knows where to lay open-mouthed kisses. But above all else, Sam fucks your clit good and sloppy, whorling and flicking his tongue in all the right ways. There's a dim, pussy-throbbing idea in your mind that if this is Sam on round two, you hope you survive this to see round fifty. Or round one hundred. Fuck. You were his.

Silently, you pray to the universe that someone won’t walk past and think you’re being murdered. Heavenly, loudly, hands-to-the-glass murdered.

You burst into tears, it’s so hot all at once. There are big hands kneading you all over and lips sealing warm and familiar around your clit right away—it’s fucking maddening. Dots start to fuzz in the ends of your vision.

Hoarse, you plead, “H-holy, holy fuck, Sammy, please.”

“So sensitive for me,” he hushes. It’s more than true; he parts your soaking folds with one big lave of his tongue, instantly making you sob.

When you’re not being eaten out like a four-course meal, you’re a tough, unshakable hunter, so all this whining desperation makes you yearn for a bit of leverage. Scrambling for something to say that will affect Sam how he’s affecting you, you hiss through a sultry moan and look him straight in the eyes: “Imagine how sensitive I'll be on your cock, Sam.”

Sam smiles dirtily. “I have been.”

An unbidden mewl seeps from your mouth just hearing that, confirming, once and for all, that you’re done for. It's half a moan of pleasure and half a moan of indignation. Of course Sam is better at this than you already. Of course he, of all people, can make you miserably horny with just one sly smile. Fuck him. Hopefully.

For your own survival, your brain filters out everything but him for just an instant. Your own fiery arousal fades to background noise, so you’re left swamped by the sight of him, lips puffy from kissing, his chin glittering, his brow furrowed into cute little creases, the light playing on the low slits of his green-brown-whiskey eyes. Nothing but bliss glowed from his face. Two coarse palms surge down on your trembling hips, pushing your pussy onto Sam’s velvet-wet mouth. You couldn’t escape if you wanted to. He has to be an angel, because these feelings gushing from your vessel are too good to contain or understand.

It was so fucking much but somehow, to your most primal instincts, it’s not enough. Dire need exploded through your every pore. You forgot about holding yourself up straight and root both hands into Sam’s thick, sweaty hair, flushing your blazing cheek and nose against the cold window in the process. Hoarse, ragged moans poured from your mouth. The instant you started to roll across his face, a harsh, lewd noise escaped Sam and he followed those magnificent instincts straight to your next climax. His lips parted and then his whole mouth splayed open, giving you something to rock properly against. Take it, his eyes urged. Take what you want from me.

You do. You roll and grind on his tongue until your pulse is throbbing in your cheeks and echoing in your ears, until Sam’s fingers are bruising your thighs, until he’s just as wild-eyed and lust-crazed as you are, chasing the circle of your hips. Looking down, all the pictures and white noise floating around your mind coalesce into the realization that you’re riding Sam Winchester’s face. A flood of heat burns through your sopping core. If he’d made a mess of you before, then you made the same of him now, your bodies meeting with obscene shlicks and slurps that Sam revels in. He groans like an animal with each slide, only adding to the filthy music.

“ C’mon,” Sam swallows.

The next peak comes even faster than the last, slamming your accelerator hard, tearing faster, faster, faster through you, the dial inside you climbing higher with every mewling breath. And just like before, you’re brought to a place that no other man could even hope to take you. Your sobs were interrupted by a sharp gasp of pleasure. Sam is big, safe, enveloping arms and loving hands and fuck—fucking hell, that perfect tongue, just as wet as your sex, flickering so fast over your clit you swear he’s vibrating. Y-you can’t… god, you can’t even think. You’re so close, so close—so close for Sam, fucking fuck—

“—am Sam Sam Sam Sam Sam please please Sam please— ”

Just as that thrilling rush of throbbing, ecstatic pressure punches through you, Sam takes over, riding you through it. He coasts your hips over his face, sealing his mouth around you and just going for it. Your mind—explodes, just as sweetly as the first time. It does always feel like the first time with him. With Sam taking care of you, your hands scramble for purchase on the sex-fogged window but miss terribly and you end up flushed to it by the forearms, huffing brainless, helpless, wordless nothings into the glass. Your thighs quake, your toes curl, your hips ache, every molecule of tissue in your feeble body surged toward him in ecstasy. Perfect rippling pulses hammered between your legs. You were there.

“Sam,” you sobbed, “Oh god, Sam.”

You came with a voiceless wail. Sam was still his insatiable self, drinking up your slick until you’re squirming and spent. He learned to let you go eventually, as much as it dissapointed him. When he does you feel the outline of huge handprints bruised into your hips, and combined with everything else, with the sticky spit in the creases of your thighs, with being in love with him, you knew if you looked him in the eye right then you could cum all over again.

You do anyway. Sam is already smiling up at you, sex-dazed and shining with spit. There’s so much of it—that special concoction of your slick and his saliva—that it drools down his neck and glitters on his cheeks. He sucks your taste off his swollen lip like it’s the last cool drink of water he’ll ever have. Your fingers had made his hair into a crazy, sultry mess, and behind his bangs, his dark eyes are charged with something hot and powerful. To make matters worse, Sam knows how devastatingly sexy he looks. Between sharp gasps for air, he swirls his tongue across his chin to get another taste of you, and when you’re sitting thick and good in his mouth, the fucker grins. A sly, unsubtle grin. This is everything he’d ever fantasized about.

He’s gonna be the fucking end of you. God.

“You did so good,” Sam murmurs, like you’d been the one to dig in and do all the intense, mind-whiting work. He swallows. ‘Cause he’s only on round two, and nothing in this world could slow Sam Winchester down.

Holy fucking shit. You pressed your forearms into the stinging-cold window to remind yourself that all this was real, then made an attempt to roll off him. It ends before it even starts.

Sam, your quick study, realizes that he’s fucked your legs numb, and helps you unsaddle his face—not before stealing one last kiss between your legs, though. A thready cry squeaks out of you. He coos you through it, and knowing Sam, he is more than willing to have you again, so you’re only half-surprised when he guides you to lay down beside him instead. Big, sweet hands thread through your hair. Sam’s sex-rasped voice satisfies the greatest itch in your mind, and you can hear it through his chest where your cheek is lazily smushed on his skin. Without looking you know that those lanky legs are bent up uncomfortably against the opposite door, so you scooch up and roll Sam onto his side to face you. Because he’s still sensitive, considerate Sam, who can apparently eat pussy for ages, he tries not to suffocate you between him and the seat. You really want him to. After a bit of lazy adjusting and prying your hot skin off the leather bench, you’re sandwiched happily just like that.

And while you’ve shared a bed with Sam before, not once had you even had a taste of what it’s like to snuggle with him. No gap is spared when he closes in, so you’re pressed together in every possible way—your belly against his toned stomach, your face into his cheek, your legs smoothed between his. There’s so much skin and muscle and Sam that you just drown in it. The best part of it is easily his arms. You don’t remember how Sam got one smushed around your head, but his bicep is the perfect pillow and his hand curls around to run his fingers down the side of your neck. His other arm has you in a comfortable vice, hooked around your waist, and for no reason at all his palm comes up to spread between your shoulder blades. Just one of his hands feels like it could cover your entire back. Fucked out as you are, just the notion makes your core feel tight and hot.

Your first dose of clarity after Sam has tongue-fucked you into not one, but two full-body orgasms, drops the most glorious realization on you of all fucking time: all that? All, what? Two hours of being all over each other? That was just the fucking foreplay.

Into your cheek, Sam whispers, “Th’nk you. M’ real glad it was you, _____.” His whole body swells up with easy happiness, and he teases in a sigh, “My girl…”

Your mind floats back into your body as he says this to you, soft and loving in your ear. Sam keeps going, mumbling about how much he appreciates you, how grateful he is that you’re his first time, and all you can do to keep yourself from blurting out three dangerous words to him is kiss him. Sam moans. You get your fingers into his hair and sear your lips to his, over and over again until Sam’s tilting so far into it that he’s half on top of you. Each kiss is barely a kiss at all, open-mouthed and mostly tongue. It was your turn to be a quick study: when his need for air hits a breaking point, you let him go and drag your tongue from his chin to his jaw, tasting yourself on him with a giddy moan.

Sam stutters your name.

“Too fuckin’ good to me, sweetheart,” you curse, hoarse, “Can’t even—nngh, can’t even think, you made me cum so good.”

Sam hums. “Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm. So fuckin’ good,” you repeat. Riding a wave of possessive desire, you plant a sloppy kiss on him and gush, “You’re all mine. Gonna hoard you like gold, Sammy.” Cupping his jaw in your palm, you hiss for the second time, “Wanna be the only girl you fuck like this,” you pop off his mouth to gasp, “wanna shout in the fuckin’ street that I took your virginity.”

He starts laughing, which dissolves into a deep, bassy moan when Sam meets your next kiss. Coy, he grumbles behind a smile, “Haven’t taken it yet.”

You slither the flats of your hands down on his chest, which is a bit of a squeeze, but feeling the heft of his pecs in each palm is easily worth it. “Then get on your damn back already so I can ride you til’ I pass out.”

Sam groans at the thought. “You’re so vulgar,” he blushes.

“Sammy,” you say near his face, smirking. “You’ve got no idea the kind of dirty shit I’m keeping myself from saying right now.”

His face makes an interesting journey from horny to hornier. “...Well. C’mon. Don’t leave it to my imagination.”

That invitation just begs for you to drool out every disconnected filthy thought you’ve ever had of him in the past year. A buzz of embarrassment seats itself in your gut, but it sits in the skyscraper shadow of your post-three-orgasm arousal, which conquers everything in a hundred-mile radius. You’re easily convinced.

“I’ve had the stupidest, biggest crush on you for the longest time, Sam,” you said. “And since you’ve got back from Stanford, s’ gotten a million times worse. Half the reason m’ so fuckin’ turned on right now is because this is you, not anyone else. Every time I’ve touched myself in the past year, I’ve thought of you, of that fuckin’ horsecock in your pants, of you splitting me open til’ I’m ruined for any other man. I wanna fuck you so hard that we break the shocks on the car and have to explain it to your brother. Wanna fuck you so hard we pass out. But the dumbest, hottest part of it all is that you don’t want to fuck me, you want to make love to me, and I’d totally let you just cause’ you’re you.”

He sucks in a breath.

Sam covers his face, eyes gleaming with love and boiling hot flattery, “You’re—y-you’re shameless.”

You’re kissed so hard that you think you see stars. In agreement, you sigh, and Sam swallows that too, his kiss wet and devouring. “I love it,” he swears.

Sex should be a pretty passionate activity, but Sam turns it into something beyond. He reduces your body to it’s rawest, most honest instincts, so it’s more than easy to lay out all your feelings on a platter for him. A set of calloused fingers splay around the hinge of your jaw, and Sam’s thumb pushes up your chin so he can take his time with you. The jet-engine lust pumping into the kiss slows. He takes it somewhere else, somewhere you’ve never been with anyone before. Sam punctuates his ragged breathing with sweet, chaste kisses, dipping his head so your lips brush together feather-light, your noses bumping.

“In fact, ‘got a big crush on you too, pretty girl,” Sam husks. His fawn-brown eyes are blown black, like a doe’s. “...You wanna see what I do for the women I crush on?”

Your cheeks hurt from sly smiling. “Funny. You Winchesters think you’re so clever—”

His hand scrambles across your back, cupping your ribs, then skipping all pretense and shooting straight for the bend of your knee. You assume he’s just aiming to get you closer when he needily jerks your leg over his hip—then the full shape of Sam’s thick, panty-dropping hard-on grinds between your legs, crystal-hard and eager in his boxers.

“Sam!” You squeal.

He’s harder than a guy has ever been for you, and so, so much bigger. Sam’s dick makes a huge, handsome outline in his ridiculously tight jeans.

“Can’t wait any longer,” Sam confesses, shaking all over with restraint, “want you—now. Right now. Please—_____—please please please—”

That desperate, gluttonous emptiness from before rules over you again, and your brain is so fucked out and needy and desperate already that just the thought rearranges the atoms in your body. Having Sam inside you. Before, it was just some fantasy—pasting a Sam mask over sensations that other people had given you. But Sam wasn’t the guy who’d taken your virginity or the others that’d followed. Regardless if it’s the same equation as always, it will be Sam pounding you into the seat and it’ll be Sam losing the rhythm of his thrusts as he cums inside you. He’ll make the prettiest noises buried in you to the hilt. He’ll fuck you—make love to you—good and right. The emptiness in your core is so all-consuming that your muscles twitch and tremble of their own accord, and only Sam, your Sam, could fix that.

The hand by your face gathers your hair out of your eyes and groups it in one fist, not quite pulling, but holding, as Sam starts to saw himself against you recklessly. “Can I?” He slathers your abused throat with kisses, “Please, _____ please can I—?”

“Fuck yes,” you gasp, sinking your nails into his shoulders. “Fuck me, Sammy, baby, god fucking drill me through the seat—”

“Show me how,” Sam demands, wiped of all shame, and holy mary mother of fucking god is it the sexiest thing he’s ever said.

You order him onto his back, and Sam, your dutiful student, immediately listens. He adjusts so his head is propped up on the armrest, reminding you of his fixation with watching you during sex. Each new thing you discover about Sam’s sexual tendencies flies straight into a special locker in your mind, safe where you can (hopefully) revisit them. He’s a whiny, noisy bed partner. His appetite for cunnilingus is bottomless. He feels even bigger than he looks, especially when you wobble up into a kneel on either side of his shuddering thighs.

“Gonna ride you,” you tell him, swallowing down the rush of drool that follows the idea. “You're gonna hold my hips to keep me steady, ‘kay? Pull n’ push with me.”

The thought of any pushing or pulling at all in your position makes something deep in your hollow gut blaze. Twitching with desire, Sam nods. His palms have this coarseness from labor that feels way too sexy on your waist.

Sam squirms under your shadow. His legs are too long to lay vertically along the seat, so they prop up a bit behind you to give your back a comfortable rest. Sam’s blush has graduated in rosy patches down his neck, and holy shit you’d almost forgotten about the freckles underneath. They’re sprinkled all around Sam’s big, trusting doe-eyes and spiral down the center seam of his body. If you think about Sam’s muscles—the miles of tension-squeezed abs and corded ribs, the… fuck, the heavy rise and fall of his pecs… and just… everything, you’ll probably forget a couple of important phone numbers. His chest is peppered with moles too. But in the process of riding his face and sucking his dick, you’d painted Sam’s whole torso with pinkened nail marks. They’re scratched down his abs and pressed in little crescents along his hips. His back being flat to the seat means nothing. Some of the lines there, the epicenter of your marks, creep over his shoulders. No wonder he looks so pleasantly lovesick. You’d really made it clear that he was yours.

He outlines one precious keepsake with his finger as you hang over him. It feels good, being in control again. You’d forgotten Sam was a virgin, since God didn’t give skilled mouths like his to just anybody.

Balancing yourself with a hand on the ceiling, you throw him your sexiest grin and wiggle your hips for him, “I look pretty like this?”

“As a picture,” Sam rasps, fondly.

“Hold that picture in your mind a second, then.”

Halfway between awkwardly bending over the front seat to dig around for the condoms Dean must keep in here, you realize how unsexy you probably look. Then one of Sam’s hands drops onto your thigh, lazily hooked around it for no reason other than to touch you, and you stop worrying altogether about any problem you've ever had.

“Holding…” Sam murmurs, tapping your leg.

After a bit of fishing around the glovebox, you uncover an untouched condom. You turn the wrapper over in your hand, checking it for punctures, and once you’re sure it’s safe, your libido shoves your brain aside and takes the wheel.

You could be sexy about it. You could pounce low on him, ass in the air, and take your time pulling his jeans off til’ he’s truly starving for it. But Sam already is—he’s so desperate to feel you that he keeps rasping it, over and over. Please _____ inside please please, he chokes. Hours and hours of his sweet soft pleading has made you just as rabid, so you tear the condom open with your teeth and jerk his jeans and boxers down in one tug. Your free hand is trembling so hard that you’re thankful Sam lifts his hips to help. His cock slips free and arcs up toward his navel. It’s flushed and handsome, just like before, and seeing it instantly makes the ache in your core fucking starve. The itch crawls within you, fierce with need.

Sam takes one look at you eyeing his cock like that and drags you down to steal a dizzying kiss. His hand covers the whole back of your neck. You get one deep, shattering taste of him before you’re reminded how insanely lucky you are.

“M’ not gonna last, seein’ you on me like this,” he warns the second his lips pop off yours, “Please, _____—”

“Shh, baby,” you soothe. Sam lets you push yourself up again. “Let me go first. I promise you’ll get your chance. Just enjoy yourself, huh?”

“Hard not to.”

Sam slumps back, relieved. His hands slump similarly on your thighs, wasted by exertion, but his eyes gleam with trust and humor and lust in ways that you’ll never forget. The familiar sparks of a Sam rush roll through you, happily married to feelings so new they’re still pounding hard through your chest. He’s gazing up at you and all you can think on loop is, I’m his girl. I’m his girl cause’ he wants me to be his, cause’ he’s thought about it before, wanted me before.

Your legs are jelly. But you’ve never needed anything more than you’ve needed him right now, so you haul yourself up onto your shuddering knees, notch the condom around Sam’s flushed head, and drag it down with you as you saddle him—

—filling yourself with Sam’s cock.

You’re so wet and so needy for him that you just slip right on, almost to the hilt. You settle on him completely when your fucking legs give out. Because. Holy shit. Holy fuck—fucking. God. Holy fucking shit.

Sam’s ragged chant of your name becomes a belly-deep groan.

Stars spin behind your eyes. Jesus, it’s a stretch, but he more than prepared you for it. The pressure is too blinding for you to blink your spotting vision clear. You’re thrust full-throttle into your other senses instead, which are flooded with nothing but your singularity, the center of your universe, Sam, Sam, Sam. The burn of the first push is barely a thought in the sloppy pile of feelings, pictures, and undeniable want that he’s reduced your mind to. Fuck, does he fill you good. Fuckin’ perfectly. You think your weight drops all the way on his lap, but there’s so much to take that you can’t be sure. His breath catches. His hands claw, scratch, grope around for your hips. When he finds them, you’re ground down on him deep, and—and—gggoddd, that itch. A genuine wail sputters out of you. The spot deep within your core that’s been dying to be just fucking reamed explodes with slippery pleasure. And Sam is so absolutely massive that he brushes up into it with every breath, making you sob with want before either of you even moves.

You bite down on your knuckles, keening, “Sam.”

So full. So full of Sam’s cock. Holy fuck.

Below you Sam is flushed scarlet, his head lolled back, his dark lashes squeezed shut against every perfect rippling pulse squeezing around him. Rough gulps of air drain into his chest. You balance both palms flat to it and dizzily glance between you, where your cunt has greedily swallowed every inch of him you can get. The massive length of him looks like it's disappeared, but for… f-for you, fuck, it's done anything but, twitching in you and filling you snug as a glove. Smaller guys were usually easier to track inside you, so you figured it'd be twice that with someone as big as Sam. He'd be so big that you couldn't not feel every inch of him. Instead, you're turned into a star, a mess of heat and light and energy radiating around a single point too powerful to feel through mortal senses. There's no separation between what's you and what's him. He becomes you.

Sam stares at the spot where you're stretched tight around him, transfixed and panting and hornier than he's ever been in his entire life. Gazing at him in a haze, you remember what you’d planned to do.

You could sit there until the car was rusted and the asphalt was gray instead of black, just breathing, and with every breath soaking up each twitch and flutter Sam gave you. He moans and shuffles his legs further apart like he’d kill for the same thing. But as fucking delectable as it would be to just grind yourself down on his willing cock forever, Sam deserves more than that his first time. If it was someone else in your position, you’d hope they’d give him a good time—but this responsibility was yours, and you were determined to prove that not one other person in the history of dick-riding could blow Sam’s mind like you could.

“Gonna move, Sammy,” you warn him, and he’s so far gone that he doesn’t even snipe at you for the nickname.

Squeezing him inside you, you caress the hands on your thighs and follow them down to Sam’s shoulders, really kneading him, feeling him, with your hands. The lightest of touches has him squirming with need, so a few piercing clenches one after the other makes him groan open-mouthed. It’s when you lean some of your weight onto your toes and tilt yourself off him that Sam’s breath stalls. He finds it again the moment you drop yourself back on those last few inches, gasping as you start a pattern. Elastic pleasure pools fiery-hot down your inner thighs. You could feel the rolling pulse of Sam's cock as you rocked on his lap, the throb of it filling your whole sparkling body.

Sam curses. “G’nna cum s’ deep inside you, baby…”

You don’t know how it’s possible for him to make you any wetter, but he manages it. Again, you see-saw off and on him, “—shit, s-so deep,” Sam snarls. His neck chords with handsome muscle. Slow pulls turn into rocks. “So deeeeep—”

The pleasure is incomprehensible, whiting out all other pitiful, useless sensations. There’s nothing else but him and his big hands on your back and the curve of his dick swelling thick and hard between your quaking legs. There’s a big difference between him and the other men you’ve had, and already you know exactly what it is—the feeling of him is going to sit hot and satisfied in your gut for damn weeks. Tomorrow you’re going to feel so thoroughly fucked and empty that you’ll never think of anything but Sam ever again. You bite down on your lip and add a little swish to the end of each bounce, and sure enough, Sam chokes on his last groan.

“You fill me up s’ good, Sammy,” you rasp, curling your fingers on his twitching stomach.

“Mm-mm. S’ you,” he echoes, swallowing, “god, s’ all you. Takin’ me perfect.”

He is so fucking wonderful. When you rake your palms down the soft yielding flesh of his middle, Sam’s head thrashes back and he clamps down hard on his tongue, whimpering and keening through his teeth. You get enough leverage on your hands to really start screwing yourself down on him, and every drive is a full-body taste of silky throbbing euphoria. There’s no plan beyond fucking him senseless, yet your hands and your mind are more connected than ever. Fuck, he’s perfect pinned down like that, your brain thinks. Your hands hear this and suddenly you’re pressing Sam’s wrists into the seat beside his head—

“Yes!” He squeals.

Over an hour of foreplay has rid Sam of his last shred of embarrassment. His face, upturned and so pretty that way, advertises a swath of open throat for your taking. His bangs are a sweaty mess all tangled up in his face too, but you can’t get your fingers through them without sacrificing the fuckin’ renaissance painting underneath you. He drapes himself out for you like a girl, his jaw slack and his wrists daintily posed beside his face.

He is so, so generous and just as smart, since the second he realizes how you want him Sam gives you exactly that.

His wrists pry free from yours with embarrassing ease. You don’t waste a second sealing the fingers of one hand around them both, and from there it’s just instinct to slam Sam’s bound hands overhead and kiss him stupid. His excited squeak melts from your crown to your toes, adding this electric edge to the mind-numbing heat exploding inside you. This is only the second time you’ve ever felt it, but Sam is long enough to jumpstart the sparkling glittering radiation feeling that makes your pussy see stars. The sharp percussive mewls jumping out of you spiral into something purely animal. When you finally get to brush back Sam’s rain-tangled hair, the dirtiest, happiest grin is waiting for you there.

“____—yes, yes oh my god ____ yes —” Sam drawls between searing kisses. His head lolls at each vicious bounce.

“So noisy,” you grin.

Sam melts at this small praise, as well as your next kiss. “You like it,” he dizzily smiles.

Of course. Clenching on him hard, you drop into a few mean, fulfilling grinds and tease into his sensitive ear, “Love it when you won’t shut up, Sammy.”

Sam laughs, and despite your experience, you’ve never made a guy laugh during sex, so. Wow. You only have a bit to enjoy it before Sam’s getting his revenge. You feel him plant his heels in the door and then—oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck, he’s slamming up into you, the huge line of his cock sawing without end against the spot tha—t-that… the spot… Your whole body explodes with happy flashes of light. It spurs from you the filthiest, most obscene kinds of moans a man has ever made you make, almost weeping for joy at the perfect velvety pressure flash-flooding your cunt.

“So noisy,” Sam husks back.

That’s the last thing he says for a while, because everything after that dissolves into delectable broken noise. Since he knows you love it so much, Sam chokes and moans until he’s out of breath and slack-jawed. His face fixes up like—well—like he’s being ridden all the way to Texas, sweaty temples lolling against his raised arms. You usually fixated on your partners during sex like this, but only because there wasn’t typically much on your end. Now there’s so much packed into every acute shift that you take it greedily by the handfuls. It’s the sloppiest, hottest, most delectable sex of your entire life. Sam’s brain apparently remains intact despite the nuclear meltdown sizzling through you both, because your low bounces start to be met by fierce upward twists of his hips. New colors join the stars spinning behind your eyes and your pussy throbs with new intensity.

“Mnmmn yes yes yes fucking yes—” you rattle in a sob.

And when your lungs are empty Sam’s still cork-screwing hard against that raw bundle of nerves inside you, stealing the rest of your breath so you’re left hanging there with your mouth open, thunderstruck. For a few breathless beats all you can hear is the percussive wet pull of him plunging into you. He seethes in absolute delight, back curling, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen Sam enjoy something that much. Somebody. You.

A few more heavy grinds and you know you’ll be done with. Your legs burn thigh-to-toe with weighty exhaustion, and even the sweaty muscles in your belly are knotted to a breaking point. Sam’s losing his patience. Most of his writhing is playful, until his wrists really start to twist in your grip for freedom. It would be easy to give Sam what he wants, especially when that means immediately being flipped over, spread apart and fucked senseless, but your tank’s not empty yet.

With the last of your strength, you slam Sam’s hips down onto the seat to keep him in place. (So full so full so fulllll.) A good rippling squeeze lets you feel just how deep he is. He’s not trapped a second before he’s trying to earn back enough room to meet you bounce for thrust. But, again, Sam is a damn genius. You sink him into a kiss that leaves your ribcage singing with love and stir your hips around his lap, murmuring between breaths, you’re perfect Sammy. Every starved inch of him calms for just a moment. When the tension roped in his wrists relaxes, you release them, and Sam melts into everything you give him: the slow, soft kissing, your hands caressing from his forearms to his triceps to his chest, and the heat of him radiating inside you in more ways than one.

On the next circle of your hips, you see it on the horizon: the finish line. Your whole body sings with the urge to fuck yourself on Sam til’ you’re spent, and orgasm number three has made your already thin self-control grow microscopic. Sam takes one look at you, crawling inside and out with fever, and asks to take over.

“Baby,” is all he says, pleading. His voice is so stringy with worn patience that it cracks.

“Yeah,” you rasp. “Please.”

On top of being beautiful and smart and patient, Sam is incredibly merciful. Instead of ruining your life by pulling out and leaving you empty as he fucks around positioning you, Sam sits up, shifts you into the safe bowl of his lap, and lays you both across the slick seat while you’re still connected. Then he does what your Sam apparently does best, and makes love to you.

There’s no shyness this time. Sam greets you with a happy, sloppy, moaning kiss that fills your gut like fire. He drapes over you like a new sky, too broad and big for his own damn good. Then he fills you like fire, until you're a pathetic, keening mess greedily writhing down on the cock you're already full of. Riding him had put into perspective just how long he is, while this position made it jaw-droppingly clear how thick. And vieny. And perfectly curved. One little jostle rubbed all the happy places in your pussy that made your brain melt out of your ears. Sam hasn't even started and the fabric of your reality is already twisting and unknotting. You're drooling and your hair is a nest and your lipgloss smeared off ages ago, dried on Sam's throat and probably Sam's dick, but you can't be bothered to care. One broad palm rakes soft down your belly. Sam coos as he pushes into you, murmuring apologies like you’re not spreading your legs for him as wide as they’ll go. He loves you.

“Always wanted this,” Sam prays, and decides at that moment, for no tactful reason, to start petting your swollen clit with his thumb. “Always wanted you.”

“Mmnn—mee too,” you hiccup. “Ssso muh—much, baby.”

The swath of hot-hot skin previously only available to your hands squishes you against the leather head-to-toe. Sam's arms tremble just trying to hold himself up on his hands, so he gives up all together and smushes himself all over you, especially where it really matters. His hips stir in and in and thank god they never stop. It's almost embarrassing how easily you disappear in Sam's shadow, until you think about it a little harder… get that image of yourself absolutely dwarfed by Sam's back, or Sam's hands, or Sam's fingers… Sam's huge cock… and suddenly... Something deeper than your gut tells you to dig your nails and knees into him for dear life, and that instinct finds its ground fast.

It only takes a few experimental drags for Sam and Sam's sexy ragged breathing to get you where you need to be. With his face nestled in your neck and the powerful line of his body curled over you, he has room to get a hand splayed on your bare thigh—pinning it back for himself—to fuck you honest. You think/hope/pray that Sam is winding up to do just that. He pulls out in a way that makes you both take in a breath, then sinks home with the kind of thorough, aching, agonizing focus that makes you sob openly in the backseat. Because he's well and truly evil he nuzzles in close to your neck with noisy kisses as he goes, and never once closes that perfect mouth.

“So tight,” Sam groans. “Take the whole thing so good,” he praises, genuinely impressed, and you can't help the tingly pride that sits hot in your gut when he says that.

“I do?” You ask, just because you're a cocky asshole.

Entertaining your cockiness, Sam thinks for a minute. “Yeah,” he breathes, then suddenly all that delicious heat sitting pretty inside of you draws out in one pull. Sam shushes your frustrated whining and drawls a single request: “Feel it again.”

At first you're not sure what he means, and no one can exactly blame you, since that's what Sam Winchester and three orgasms can do to the human psyche. He's also fucking pulled out of you, which you rightfully react to like he's just dropped you naked in the Australian wilds and flown off. You haven’t been lonely and empty for more than a second when Sam returns every inch he stole. His bulbous tip spoons through your folds, and everything after that is filling, surging, slick velvet heat so stellar your limbs go numb.

“Hah—ah—hoollee—holy shit,” you stammer.

“Feel it?” Sam hums.

Brain melted, you answer, “Feeeel—?”

“This, _____,” Sam replies, all sweet and patient.

Knowing exactly the kind of puddle he’s reducing you to, Sam does it again. He pulls out fast and sinkssss in, slow and hot while making all sorts of pretty sounds. This time he kisses you as he blows your mind. Considering how Sam’s already mastered staring hungrily at your cunt stretched tight around his base as he sinks in, it’s an uncoordinated kiss. All of his student ambition has been poured by the truckload into fucking you—and reminding you that he is.

“You n’ me,” he whispers, starry-eyed. “Perfect fit.”

In a daze, your hands clamber for something to cling to besides Sam’s poor, abused back. They end up smoothing soft and needily through his silky hair, so it’s a matter of circumstance when Sam starts pumping his hips and you pull so hard that he howls with pleasure. A very happy circumstance.

Somehow, Sam is lucid enough to still be thinking about the how in all of this. He tests. Slow, stomach-deep, thorough thrusts that blend into wild snapping ones that jellify your surviving senses. Because he apparently doesn’t understand that fucked-out squeals of his name mean harder, Sam asks:

“Want me gentle?” He mumbles pretty against your cheek. “Or more?”

“Plea— please sah—Sammy,” you sob into his hair. “Please go harder. Hard s’ you want. Won’t hurt.”

“Mn—m’ not gonna—can’t hold—” Sam chokes, and whatever he’s trying to say dissolves when he shamelessly licks open your mouth. You’re lovingly kissed, put nose to nose with him, and made victim to Sam’s warm whiskey eyes—

—then you're fucked inside out.

Before you can even suck in a full breath, you’re being deliriously pounded into the trench you and Sam have dug into the seat. Viciously, beautifully pounded, too-good-to-make-noise pounded, arms-locked-still pounded, jaw dropped and toes curling. The kind of sex that’s born from years of wound-up, silent frustration that erupts all at once. Sam’s fingers curl into your thighs like he needs this. Every stroke is life or death, consuming him with an insatiable, maddening craving for more more baby closer s-squeeze me harder so fuckin' pretty n’ warm . Thready sobbing gasps punctuate each thrust, but you're too busy being disassembled atom by erotic atom to know if it's you or him. His dick starts to blaze deliciously hot inside you, closer, closer…

Sam’s teeth snap together. “Oh shit oh shit yes—can’t—get—enough a’ you.”

Your hands are jostled back down to his shoulders, and you feel like if you don’t hold on you might be drilled straight through the crust of the earth. The second you sink your nails into Sam’s back, that’s it. Something in him splits, then his hands are clamping down under your thighs and you’re being bent in half. Knees to your chest, hips curved up, pussy spread for him—everything. Every one of his breaths is coarse with a throaty whimper. He could’ve given out ages ago, but Sam just keeps going, hips pistoning, nails digging, until sweat is beading down his flushed neck and he’s panting with his tongue splayed like a dog. Your ass is going to be all sorts of colors tomorrow morning.

Of course, it’s when you can’t feel your legs and your blazing lungs stop working that the whole Impala starts to rock. The leather seat squeaks on beat and the carriage bounces harder and harder on its shocks. You swear the damn car’s going to flip when Sam’s thrusts stutter, losing their tempo. Sam twists his hand to get two fingers rubbing like lightning at your clit and you’re gone, too exhausted to do anything but cry, blissed-out tears pooling in your collarbones.

“Sammy please,” you weep.

He pants, “Gonna—gonna—”

You're pretty sure that's when the orgasms start. Maybe it’s not just one of them, but a million little zinging ones blending together in one deliciously long stroke. Slick is rolling down your ass and Sam’s cramping thighs, and his voice is muffled in your neck, cursing filthy half-words like he does in your fantasies. You melt helplessly at the seams through it all, clenching on him without end. Sam moans hoarsely through his broken voice and fills you for good. The last of his weight comes crashing down on top of you, beautifully squishing you between a swath of broad chest and the seat. Pinned down, fucked open, and flattened to the leather, you try to stay conscious as Sam’s climax wracks through his whole body—and yours, fused to him in a sloppy puppy-love kiss. Together, your finales hit a fever pitch too fantastic for mortal bodies to handle. It sings through you to him, where Sam’s skin meets your skin, his lips to your lips, the two of you ringing like bells until finally, finally, finally they coalesce into the same vibrating frequency. You’re him and he’s you and holy fuck, Sam Winchester just made stupid, crazy love to you.

Two heaps of clay, you collapse into each other. Sam’s mussed hair tickles your neck where he’s gulping down deep, rattling breaths. It’s the first thing you notice when you regain your sense of what-fucking-dimension-am-I-in. Each filling inhale presses you down a little, and god should it not be as awesome as it feels. A couple more minutes and Sam could easily suffocate you, which is why you don’t move, content to die as you lived: utterly obsessed with him.

Somehow your brain is still capable of drawing connections to your body, because your fingers are curling into the soft tuft at the back of Sam’s neck of their own accord. An obscenely happy cocktail of endorphins throbs between your spent legs and swirls around in your brain, blissed out.

Sam pets your waist with just the tips of his fingers. After a long, euphoric sigh, he murmurs with a dizzy smile, “How’s my girl?”

You’re too out of your mind to speak. All you can think to do is throw your arms around his neck, and Sam, your genius, just gets it. With a lazy pull of his hips, his warmth leaves your very happy core. That itching sense of emptiness starts to ghost through your system the moment he’s gone, though, and you can’t help but sigh at yourself. This is not over. You’re never gonna get enough of him.

Sam handles the condom, then, to your delight, returns to his earlier spot cuddled up between your legs. This time, he’s brought blankets with him. In moments (that fly by even faster in your cum-drunkness), you’ve got a fluffy one propped up under your head and a big, warm body at your front, who squeezes you closer the same way he had before. Sam doesn’t wait a second to squirm his arms under and around you. He gets you all wrapped up in an cozy embrace, only to be consumed by cuddles himself. Greedy and unafraid, you haul the other blanket over you both and hug Sam tight enough to squeeze out a few giggles.

“That was—” Sam starts, grinning all handsome and sleepy-like.

“Wait, shh,” you stop him. “You hear that?”

Sam tilts his head to listen. He studies you, intent, his whole face swimming with satisfaction. “Huh?”

You twist up in the mess of blankets to kiss Sam’s ear, snickering to yourself. “S’ your brother, revving a chainsaw,” you tell him, dryly, “cause’ he’s gonna fuckin’ kill us for doing this in his car.”

Sam’s eyes drifted peacefully shut. Since he is forever out to get you, one pretty hand of his smooths between your own. He confesses, grinning, “____. Not even that could ruin this for me right now.”

You can’t help it. He flushes your whole body with love in the dumbest way. In a moment of glorious, beautiful weakness, you brush the hair from Sam’s face and murmur, “Guess you are a quick study, then, Sammy, cause' that's how I've felt this whole time…”

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