#one. ONE. sharp. 'Shut the fuck up'.

[ace-and-ranty]

So am I the ONLY ONE who thinks Robbie was right, and Dr. Langdon crossed a line when he started yelling at a subordinate and calling her stupid in front of a bunch of their colleagues?.

[grimalkinmessor]

Angst idea where Mob and Ritsu are both trans but Mob figures it out first so she starts to transition socially with the help of all her friends and Ritsu, who cannot stand there to be one more fucking thing that she's "chasing after her brothersister" over, resolves to suffer in silence and live in denial of herself rather than risk the humiliation of coming out as a girl right after her sister does. Living with their parents taking Mob clothes shopping and the building resentment and guilt when Mob gets to live as she wants but as always it is so so much harder for Ritsu. Anxiety and guilt and slowly decaying from the inside abounds 🫶

[luck-of-the-drawings]

EPISODE 2 AND 3 HAVE BEEN SOOOO FUN im already so emotionally attached to each of these characters.. if anything bad ever happens to any of them im killing everyone and then everyone.

[kaitoru]

𓍼 gojo accidentaly calling you mommy in the heat of the moment.

mommy kink. satoru doing a reverse card on you. ¹⁸ mlist

“mommy—” gojo groans his face buried on the crook of your neck, hands holding onto the headboard, your eyes widen, your hand flying to his hair, tugging sharp enough to make him hiss.

“mommy?” you repeat, your voice mix of shock and glee, a grin spreading across your face.

he definitely said that on accident, both of you knew damn well it was, and you’re about to tease the shit out of him.

“shut up.” he growls, cutting you off with a harder thrust, the kind that makes your breath catch and your toes curl, his hands grip your hips, fingers digging into your skin, pulling you back to meet his relentless pace.

“don’t even start.” but you’re already laughing, breathy and smug, your nails raking his scalp.

“no, no, mommy? really?” you taunt, your voice dripping with mockery.

“didn’t know you were that needy, baby boy.” gojo’s eyes flash, narrowing as he lifts his head, his smirk dangerous and all trouble.

“oh, you wanna play like that?” he says, his voice low, teasing, he slams into you again, deeper, making you moan loud and sharp.

“yeah, mommy? want me to fuck you like this, mommy?” he flips your tease right back, his tone mocking and filthy, leaning into the slip like it’s his new weapon.

“fuck!” you gasp, your head tipping back as he hits that spot that makes you see stars, his hands slides to your thighs, spreading them wider, giving him better access to drive into you.

he leans down, his teeth grazing your earlobe. “c’mon, mommy, tell me how good it feels. you’re so loud earlier, what happend now?” you try to retort, but he thrusts harder, cutting you off with a cry that’s all pleasure, no words.

his hands gripped you tighter, one sliding to your clit, circling fast and rough, his thigh shifting under your leg to lift your lower body up.

“c’mon, keep talkin, i fuckin’ dare you.” you laugh, breathy and broken, but you’re losing ground, your moans louder than your words.

you opened your mouth your voice shaky. “you're so—fuckin—desperate, callin’ me mommy like that.”

“desperate?” gojo’s eyes darken, and he slams into you, hard enough to make the bed creak louder, your cry echoing. “who’s desperate now, huh?”

“want it harder, mommy? like this?” he thrusts deeper, faster, his fingers circling your clit in time, and you’re gone, your moans turning to screams, your body shaking as you cum, hard and fast, clenching around him.

[sinkuna]

୨୧ ― The garage door slams shut with a muffled thud, sealing you both in the dark garage. The car is still warm from the drive home, engine ticking as the leather seats creak under Nanami’s weight. His tie hangs loose around his neck, silk fabric slithering between his fingers as he cages you against the backseat- his knee forcing your legs apart. 

"Seven days…," he grits out, the numbers sharp as his cursed blade… It was rare to hear him talk like that…

"Kento… please don't be mad… w-we ah~," impatient, his large hands shove your dress up your thighs, bunching the fabric around your waist, "We've been so busy with the girls lately." your hands tremble as you run them over the lapels of his jacket.

He catches your wrist and pulls your hand to his mouth. A shiver races up your spine as he kisses your palm, tongue hot and wet as it traces along your skin. His teeth are just as sharp, grazing against your skin in a warning, "I don't want excuses," Nanami growls, the low sound going straight to your cunt, "I want you."

His breath carries hints of bourbon and mint from dinner- restraint absolutely snapped, the kind that’s been simmering all week between packed lunched, overtime with Gojo, and your second grader’s nightmares about how daddy doesn’t come back home from work one day… 

Nanami refuses to waste any more time. Like he said, it’s been seven fucking days. He’s missed having you all to himself. The feeling of your velvety walls wrapped around him- strangling his cock just how he likes it. 

Without hesitation. His thumb hooks into your lace panties, tearing them sideways with a rip that makes you gasp and arch, "F-fuck, Kento-!~"

"Quiet," he growls against your neck, calloused palm smacking your clit once, twice, the crack echoing off the tinted windows, "You've been begging for this all night." The sound of his pants zipper fills the small space, his cock springing free- heavy and angry red with a bead of precum drooling at the tip. "Squirming in your seat. Smirking at me as your heel grazes my thigh."

He doesn't prep you- doesn't need to. Your pussy has been dripping since the appetizers, and he knows, the bastard, smirking as he swipes his tip against your entrance, "Look at you," he taunts, dragging his cock through your slick, coating himself, "So wet for me already. You missed my cock so much, hm?"

Fuck, yesyesyes you missed his cock, missed the stretch and burn and ache when he first plunges into you. A breathless, "Yes~♡ " falls from your lips, followed by a desperate moan as his fat cock rams into your soaked cunt without warning- filling you, stretching you out.

You do your best to choke back a scream. You know better, know to keep your voice down in case your girls and Yuji have fallen asleep- the last thing you need is to wake them. But Nanami is merciless, fucking you open, the squelch of your juices loud enough to drown out any other noise in the confined space, his hips snap up- slamming into you as he fucks you against the leather seats.

"I—fu—I've s'missed you, Kento~"

Nanami's eyes soften then, a small smile forming as his hand cradles your face. The pad of his thumb traces the outline of your lip before pushing in, his gaze darkening at the way your lips part for him so willingly.

His grip on your jaw turns bruising, the way his lips smash against yours- it's painful, but the sting is delicious, "You kept teasing me about wanting another kid," he grunts, sweat dripping off his jaw onto your heaving chest.

His wedding band catches the moonlight streaming through the garage window as he grips your throat, not hard enough to hurt- yet.

"Maybe I will put a third in you tonight. Watch you swell up again…" His voice drops, gravelly and low, "You'd look so beautiful like that, again."

You claw at the part of his chest that's exposed, the fabric wrinkled beyond salvation, and moan, "Y'already... nnf... can't handle two—hah!~"

He slams deeper- hand fisting in your hair cutting you off-  "Try me."

His Mercedes rattles as he flips you onto your knees, face mashed against the fogged window. His palm cracks against your ass, reddening the skin before he yanks your hips back, spearing you in one vicious stroke. Your tits crush against the seat, nipples rubbed raw by the upholstery as he drills into your g-spot.

Somewhere upstairs, he hears a floorboard squeak… The sound traveling easily through the thin wall that connects the garage to the house. Nanami freezes, cock twitching inside you. 

Then, unmistakable in the sudden silence, comes the patter of small feet and excited voices from within the house.

"Daddy and Mommy are home!"

"Shh! Remember what big bro Yuji said? We should be sleeping!"

Nanami’s eyes narrow, "S-shit." He rams home once more, burying his groan in the crook of your neck as he spills, hot and thick, painting your walls white as it floods your womb. His cum leaks down your trembling thighs as he collapses against you, his forehead dropping to your shoulder blade with a defeated thud while muttering, "...they're awake-"

So much for having you to himself the rest of the night…

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Nine months later, Nanami Kento is changing diapers at 3 am, dark circles under his eyes but with a tender smile that lights up the pink nursery.

"Worth it."

⋆｡˚꒰ঌ 𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ໒꒱˚｡⋆

[novaimperia]

★ asking roommate!sukuna if you can sleep with him because you’re scared

“no.”

the door slams in your face, grazing your nose ever so slightly. you don’t know what you were expecting when you knocked at 2am — maybe you weren’t thinking at all. the booming thunder outside was dizzying and your feet raced you out of your room and down the hall in record speed before you could even process the rattling of your bones. 

you knock again. the door swings open. he is not happy. 

sukuna’s sporting a scowl, piercings glinting from the hallway light, as he glares down at you. he’s shirtless and wearing boxers that hang low on his hips, revealing sharp angles and thick lines of ink. on any other occasion, you would have swooned to yourself but now’s not the time. 

“please, s’kuna. i can’t sleep on my own like this.”

his brow quirks up. “and that’s my problem because?”

fuck. 

he’s not listening. you can’t even blame him — it’s late and he’s already warned you he’s not the sweet type, that you shouldn’t treat him like a boyfriend, and he doesn’t cuddle so unless you’re up for spreading your legs, you should keep your distance. but you thought since you guys have been having dinner together, going out for errands, and even building inside jokes that he might feel inclined to do you a little favour. 

“y-yeah, you’re right. sorry.” you jolt when the next rumble sends the apartment swaying. “oh! fuck. just…sorry. night.”

scrambling back, you clutch yourself tight, resenting the shudders running through you, like the storm has wormed its way in and is eating you from the inside. 

“ah!”

two huge arms wrap around you, lifting you up, back, and tossing you onto a bed. you bounce once. twice. sukuna makes an exasperated noise and runs his hand through his hair. “you’re an annoying little shit. you better not snore or i’m kicking you out.”

then, he’s climbing in behind you, lying on his stomach, faced buried in his pillow and paying you no mind. you’re in his bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like you’ve been here before and will be again. it did occur to you that things might get awkward, but the way he’s not even the slightest bit tense and letting you hike up the covers over both of you even though he runs hot tells a different story. 

minutes pass by, you still can’t sleep. the storm is suffocating. just as your eyes flutter shut, a flash of lightning breaches the blanket of his curtains and a fierce roaring follows shortly after, shaking the bed frame. shit.

“quit shivering. can’t fucking sleep when you’re on vibration mode.”

“sorry.”

he opens one eye to judge you. “you scared of a little thunder? embarrassing.”

“yeah.”

grunting, he mutters something, as if scolding himself and throws an arm around you. sukuna rolls you two over so he’s on his back and you’re on his chest. he’s warm and hardened with muscles, yet you melt into him as if he’s a teddy bear. he smells nice too. 

you’re rendered confused, unable to reconcile his actions with the relevance to anything that had transpired in the last ten minutes. but…you hear it. or rather, you don’t. his body is shielding you from the sounds outside, distracting your senses with the feel of him, bare, against you. the thunders are washed away by the beating of something inside his chest.

quietly, you quip, feeling the need to cover up the heat rising to your cheeks, “i didn’t know you had a heart.”

sukuna scoffs. “yeah, neither. now shut up, don’t want to deal with your grumpy ass in the morning.”

maybe you are closer than you thought. though you won’t bring that up to him, knowing how defensive he gets. unspoken and subtle, you’re content with the way he shows his loyalty. it’s sincere and consistent and that’s all that matters.

so, you find yourself falling asleep dreaming of a fire engulfing you, drowning all else away, and laying a gentle kiss on your head. 

[mw00nie]

you always knew you had a thing for older men.

It wasn’t just the salt-and-pepper stubble or the slow, practiced way they carried themselves. it was the stillness. the grounded energy. the calm. like nothing could touch them. like they’d been through hell and came back clean, sharper for it.

nanami kento was the embodiment of that.

you weren’t supposed to end up in his bed. it started with drinks after a shared mission, a conversation that lingered longer than expected. you were tipsy. he wasn’t. and yet he watched you like you were a puzzle worth solving. carefully, patiently, without a single wasted glance.

you’d had sex before. enough to know what you liked. enough to know that most guys your age didn’t really care about what that was. they rushed. they fumbled. Some were sweet, but rarely satisfying. even the slightly older ones, 25, 26, still had the attention span of a squirrel and the emotional intelligence of a wet sock.

but nanami?

nanami touched you like he’d studied you. like he had time. like he didn’t need to prove anything because he already knew he could ruin you. and would. he took off your clothes like unwrapping a gift he’d waited patiently to open. every touch was intentional. every kiss a quiet promise.

you thought you were prepared.

you weren’t.

his mouth on your neck, your chest, between your legs. devastating. the kind of slow burn that made you forget your name, arching into him with a gasp so raw you almost felt embarrassed. until you looked up and saw the way he was watching you. focused. like he needed to see what he did to you..

you expected him to be good. he was older, refined, deliberate in everything he did. from the way he sipped his whiskey to the way he looked at you, like he could read every need you hadn’t voiced. But this?

this was beyond anything your imagination had dared to stretch toward.

you're on your back, legs spread and trembling over Nanami’s shoulders, body pinned to the mattress like you were meant to be there. like he built this exact moment out of patience and control and years of knowing exactly what he was doing.

his cock stretches you open with a slow, thick thrust that makes your spine arch off the bed. he’s not fast. not frantic. he moves like a man who knows he doesn’t have to rush, because you’re already falling apart under him.

“good girl,” he murmurs, voice low and steady, as if he’s rewarding you for every helpless sound you make. “you can take it. i’ve got you.”

and you do. you take him. inch by devastating inch. because you can’t not. he fills you in a way no one else ever has. deep. heavy. the kind of depth that forces a raw, gasping whine from your throat with every stroke.

your nails claw weakly at his forearms, the only parts of him you can reach in this position. he’s got you folded open, helpless, a mess of sweat and slick and trembling limbs beneath him. his hips grind slow, controlled, like he’s studying how each angle wrecks you.

“too much?” he asks, and it’s maddening how composed he sounds while you’re unraveling like silk in his hands.

you try to answer, but nothing comes out but a high-pitched, wrecked little moan. your head tilts back. eyes flutter shut. brain static.

he leans in closer, the weight of him pressing into you deliciously, lips grazing your jaw. “words, sweetheart.”

you manage a shaky, whined: “don’t stop. please. don’t stop.”

his lips curve into the faintest smirk against your cheek, and suddenly his thrusts get deeper. not harder. not faster. just…more intentional. perfectly timed to make you feel every ridge, every drag of him against that sensitive spot inside you that makes your thighs shake.

your vision goes blurry. your mouth drops open in a silent gasp. And then it happens: Your brain short-circuits.

everything goes white-hot, your body locking around him with a desperate cry you barely hear. your climax rips through you with a sharp, clenching heat that leaves you breathless and boneless, twitching beneath him as he fucks you through it with devastating care.

“beautiful,” he breathes, watching you crumble.

you’re too far gone to even feel embarrassed at how wrecked you sound. you’re crying a little overstimulated, completely taken, the term “fucked dumb” no longer a meme, but a diagnosis.

he slows down. pulls out just enough to let you breathe, but not leave. his hands slide down your thighs, soothing, grounding.

and then, without warning, he’s back inside you. slower this time. softer. but it still hurts, in the way pleasure hurts when you’ve already come once and your nerves are still singing. you whimper, and he kisses your shoulder.

“i know, i know,” he whispers. “just one more. you can do one more.”

you don't know if you're nodding or crying, but it doesn’t matter. he keeps praising you, guiding you back to that high again with practiced care and relentless control. and when you finally collapse beneath him, thighs shaking, tears wet on your cheeks, he kisses you like you’re something fragile he’s honored to break.

he doesn’t leave right after.

he wraps you in a warm, damp towel and carries you to the bath. cleans you gently. makes you tea. sits beside you as your body catches up with your soul.

and when he says, “you’re safe,” you believe him.

and you realized then: you’d never be able to go back.

how could you? to twenty-something-year-old men who needed validation, who didn’t know what to do with a woman who needed to be held, not just touched? who didn’t understand the ache that came from deeper wounds. wounds that wanted comfort, not conquest?

nanami wasn’t just good in bed.

he understood. he moved with restraint, with precision. the kind of man who didn’t need to be loud to leave a mark.

you looked up at him. his calm, unreadable expression softened only by the way his thumb brushed over your hip. and it hit you:

you weren’t just ruined for boys.

you were recalibrated.

no one else would ever compare.

[tojifiles]

WHY SHOULD I BE SAD? (WHEN I COULD JUST FUCK HIS DAD!) ★

ꨄ syn. after your ex-boyfriend cheats on you, you show up at his house only to find out his bum ass isn't there. buuut his dad is, and you see the perfect opportunity to get back— its time for you to move along, goodbye!

ꨄ feat. dilf! kento nanami + fem! reader, pwp, piv, unprotected sēx, improper use of a tie, oral f! receiving), age gap, pússy whipped nanami, choking, hairpulling, voyeurism. mdni.

wc. 3.5k

you knock. three sharp, deliberate raps against the door, knuckles grazing the oak.

the porch light flickers overhead, buzzing lowly as it throws shadows across your bare legs. the hem of your pink velour shorts rides high on your thighs, paired with the matching jacket, zipped halfway down to show a sliver of the white tank top underneath.

you shift your weight to one hip, arms folded tight across your chest, blowing a lazy puff of stray hair that stuck to your glossed lips.

pathetic. you think, glancing around the quiet streets. your (ex!!) boyfriend— still living with his parents like the immature man child he is.

some things just never fucking change.

you shift, scuffing the toe of your sneaker against the welcome mat. welcome, it says in clean, cursive letters. bold of it to assume.

you’re ready to just turn your ass around, already thinking how you were too pretty to be standing on the porch like this for a man who can’t even keep his dick to himself— before the door opens with a soft, weighted click.

and instead of the boy you were verbally (and probably physically) going to skin alive, you got his father.

nanami kento.

he stands framed in the doorway, still in half his work attire. the sleeves of his white dress shirt are pulled up to his elbows, the worn fabric stretching a little too tight over the muscle of his forearms. a navy tie hangs loosely around his neck, brushing ever so slightly against the center of his barely exposed chest.

his honey blonde hair is combed back, a stray hair brushing over the rim of his glasses. he blinks at you once, slow, and you can’t help but blink right back.

he’s hot— hot in that “pays his bills on time” kind of way. in that “he’s obviously bee-keeping age” kind of way. you can clearly see where all the good genes went— definitely didn’t stick with his son.

figures.

“can i help you?” he asked, voice worn around the edges, dragging low across the quiet between you— like he’s been talking all day but you’re the first thing he’s actually looked at.

“i was, uh, looking for your son,” you shrug, voice bittersweet. “but i guess he’s out. . spreading whatever new std he picked up this week.”

nanami’s mouth twitches, not enough to be a smile—not enough to be anything actually, but you still catch it.

“he’s not home, i’m sorry.” he finally says, exhaling through his nose, the sigh barely stirring the thick air between you.

“yeah, me too.” you scoff softly, letting a dry little laugh slip free past your lips before you can stop it.

nanami sighs, glancing out at the empty, paved street, then back at you— standing there in your tiny pink jacket, breath fogging in soft little puffs in the cold, evening air.

and he knows he should shut the door.

tell you to go home, and stop bothering him with his son’s antics.

but instead, nanami looks at you one more time, and the words are already out before he can take them back.

“come inside,” he murmurs, and you blink up at him, surprised. your lashes catch in the dimmed lighting, lips parted because, not gonna lie, you really expected him to scold you for showing up on his doorstep at this hour, not invite you in.

he creaks the door wider with one hand, not moving otherwise.

an invitation, plain and simple— yours if you want it.

and you do.

because why the fuck not.

you step past the blonde man, slow enough to feel the heat of his chest. his cologne hits you next, clean with a weight of something smooth, oaky, the kind that just smells expensive.

the door clicks shut behind you, a low, weighted sound as the house hums low around you — dim lamplight blooming gold against taupe walls, books stacked in corners, the edge of a dark whiskey bottle catching the faint gleam from the kitchen counter.

“can i get you something to drink? wine?” nanami’s voice cuts into the quiet, and you flick your eyes toward him.

his hand curls casual around the fridge door, rolex crowned wrist flexing as he reaches for a bottle without even needing to look.

“what, no vodka shots?”

“i have better taste than that.”

he pours slow — the maroon liquid threading ribbons into thin crystal glasses that catches lamplight like it’s flirting. the air shifts when he crosses back to you, glass dangling easy between his fingers, the stem catching a smear of light as he offers it out.

you take a small sip, the wine breathing sweet against your tongue. it's much heavier than what you're used to, warm enough that it drips slow down the back of your throat and settles thick in your stomach.

you hum low without meaning to, the sound slipping out sticky and soft. nanami sinks next you on chocolatey leather sectional, the seat creaking quietly under the shift of his weight.

“i'm sorry, again.” he says softly, his thumb drags absent over the rim once before he speaks once more. “that boy. . . he hasn't been the same since his mother’s been gone.”

“oh.” you lower your glass, words feeling awkward and clumsy on your tongue. “i’m sorry for your, um, loss.”

and nanami chuckles— the kind you’d expect to hear floating down the halls of some members-only country club.

“she’s not dead— she left. divorced me after she decided marriage vows were more of a suggestion.” he leans back, raising the crystal up to his lips.

you laugh before you can stop yourself — the wine buzzing a little low in your veins now, loosening your mouth, making you just stupid enough to flirt with the edge of it.

“ohh,” you purr sweetly, a little slur of silk in your voice. “so you haven’t gotten laid in a while, huh?”

nanami chokes.

no, like actually chokes.

“w-what?” he croaks, brows pulling inward sharply as his glasses shift down the bridge of his nose.

“gootteeenn laaiidd,” you repeat, dragging the words slower this time.

“like, you know, having intercourse.” you wave one hand vaguely in the air, wrist limp. “fucking, if you will.”

nanami exhales sharply through his nose - you’re really starting to give him a run for his money right now. “i know what getting laid means,” he mutters, tone clipped. “m’not that old.”

a brief silence drapes itself between you— not cold, yet slightly singed around its edges, tensed. after what seemed to be the longest three seconds of his life, nanami finally speaks.

“no. i, uh. haven’t been active— sexually.”

you burst out laughing, wine nearly sloshing over the rim of your glass. “oh my god,” you wheeze, setting down your drink before it spills over. “this isn’t a doctor’s office. we’re both adults here.”

“are we really?” nanami mumbles, umber eyes skimming over your doubled-over state.

“uh, i’m twenty, mind you.”

“that’s comforting.”

you shrug, one leg curling up beneath you as you swirl whats left in your glass, the liquid painting lazy rings up the sides. your head is lighter now, the warmth of it blooming low in your stomach, buzzing under your skin.

“you don’t have to be embarrassed.” you murmur, head tilting slightly as your gaze drags across his frame. “it’s juust. . . been a while, right? doesn’t have to stay that way.”

you don’t look at him after that. not right away. just take another sip— letting the remainder of the wine coat your tongue and melt there while your words hang.

nanami doesn’t speak at first. doesn’t blink. hell, doesn’t even breathe.

but you feel it. the way the air shifts. the way his eyes remain hot on you. like he’s trying not to picture anything he shouldn’t— and failing miserably.

you’re half his age— he could be your father, for crying out loud!

“you’re drunk.”

“a little,” you admit breathily, voice slurred around the corners like the alcohol is speaking for you. “not enough to lie though.”

his jaw flexes.

visibly.

nanami’s voice drops lower, steadier.

“you’re my son’s girlfriend.”

“ex-girlfriend,” you correct him. “very important prefix.”

“semantics,” he mutters.

“legalities,” you shoot back. “pretty sure that contract expired the second he chose to be community dick.”

and nanami just huffs, closing his eyes, as if you’ll vanish if once he reopens them.

you don’t.

his jaw ticks again— slow.

“you— you shouldn’t be talking like this,” his voice rasps, eyes darkening— not dramatically, like in the movies, but in that slow, irrevocable way. “flirting. with me.”

you blink up at him, doey eyes feigning innocence with such a foxed grace. “awe, why shouldn’t i, mister nanami?”

and uh,

being slumped over his couch not even five minutes later with your legs hanging daintily over his broad ass shoulders definitely wasn’t on your list of possible outcomes.

“k-kennnn,” you whimper, hips rolling up into his face without thinking. your body moving on instinct now. “oh my god—”

his name rolls of your tongue like pure honey. your hips buck into his face, reflexive and greedy, spine arching off the couch like your entire body was trying to climb into his mouth.

“you taste,” he breathes, voice ruined, mouth glistening with the evidence, “so divine.” his lips kiss the words right into your sobbing cunt, a sticky whisper smudged against your folds.

he’s drenched in your dulcetly sweet juices — mouth and chin glazed in spit and slick. there’s drool trailing from the corner of his mouth, pooling where his lips suck around your clit. it’s loud — shamelessly wet — the kind of messiness that echoes off the walls, mingling with your gasped mewls and broken pleas for more.

you're throbbing so much it aches. your legs can’t even stay open on their own— and they don’t have to, not with the way nanami’s palms are splayed into your inner thighs, keeping them spread wiiiidee like it’s his job.

like this is what he clocked out for.

you fist a hand in his hair, yanking him closer and he moans. actually moans into your cunt.

low and guttural, breath catching sharp in his throat as he sinks deeper into you. his tongue licks a wide, deliberate stripe up your cunt, lathering his entire mouth in the wet sheen of your sweetness.

and god, he’s drunk on it.

like he’s starved, but determined to savor every lick, every suck, every trembling twitch of your hips beneath his tongue. nanami wraps one arm around your thigh, pulling you closer to the edge of the couch, and stays there — nose pressed deep in your crevices, tongue flicking in tight circles, sloppy little suctions in between.

the last time he's eaten pussy like this, was what? back in college? almost two decades ago. yet it's like fucking muscle memory for him, like he's got PTSD.

“that’s it,” he rasps, voice muffled and wrecked, “don’t run. let me taste you, baby.”

your jaw drops. nothing comes out.

because how exactly are you supposed to say even a word with his tongue dragging figure eights over your clit? with his lips sucking bruises into your inner thighs between every flick? with his hands branding their grip into you every time you squirm?

his lips latch around your clit, sucking slow, heavy pulses while the flat of his tongue rolls wide circles around the swollen bud. his head shakes side to side, desperate now, messy, loud slurps filling the room.

you gasp sharply, hips jerking, thighs trembling around his head. “kento—i’m getting clooseee.”

the heel of your foot presses down against the middle of his back, urging him closer, guiding his mouth deeper into you. he groans again, a low, hoarse sound that makes your stomach tighten.

“hah—not yet, sweetheart,” he mutters into your pussy, words muffled by the wetness slicking his lips. “wanna enjoy you a little longer.”

he coaxes softly, voice low. “h-hold out for me. can you do that, pretty girl?” and you nod frantically, even as your body is begging for release.

“atta girl.”

nanami smiles against your cunt and you can feel it—the gentle curve of his lips pressing against your slick, tickling where he’s sucking and licking you raw. his hands stroke soothing down the backs of your thighs, holding you still, thumbs drawing slow circles into your skin.

his tongue flattens again, and you could've sworn you felt him drawing a slow, dragged K against your clit.

he’s just lost in it. in you.

completely, hopelessly enthralled.

you whimper, breath catching in your throat, fat, wet, tears finally pooling at your waterline before streaking down the flushed heat of your cheeks.

“k-kentoo,” you mewl softly, voice sticky with need, breath coming out in short little pants.

“go on,” he cooed softly. “cum for me, sweetheart. wanna feel it on my tongue.”

coiled tight, ready to snap. but his hands stayed firm on your thighs, his tongue pressing a slow, deliberate stroke over your wetness.

your release hits you violently, crashing over you like a rogue wave and you nearly sob. your toes curl into the soles of your shoes, thighs clamping around his head as your hips bucked against his mouth.

your body spasms in a wild, uncontrollable rhythm, slick soaking nanami's chin, his lips, his tongue—and he just took it. drinking you down with soft, broken groans, never once letting up as he licked you through every little tremble.

“that’s it,” his breath is warm as it's breathed against your core. “good girl.”

your body was still trembling, slack with aftershock when nanami finally lifted himself from between your soaked thighs. he wiped his mouth once but it did nothing— his chin was still slick, lips swollen and glistening, the faintest tint of pink glossed from where he’d devoured you.

his hands swept possessively down your sides. palms wide, calloused fingertips dragging over the curve of your waist as he guided you forward.

you gasp softly as he flips you onto your belly, nudging your hips up. your limbs felt weightless, pliant with a deep fatigue.

your knees slide against the leather, the couch creaking beneath you as he arranged you just right—in your hands and knees, back arched, ass lifted.

the cushions dipped behind you, a subtle shifting of weight as nanami knelt up. you hear the slow, metallic “zrrpp” of his zipper lowering, noticing his belt didn’t jingle. 

he’d probably already undone it while his mouth was still between your thighs.

a soft breath hisses through nanami's nose as he fists himself behind you—stroking, just once, the wet sound slick before he presses forward.

“breathe in for me,” nanami enticed, voice steady, one palm braced warm at the small of your back.

his other hand guided himself to your entrance, the tip nudging sweetly between your sobbing folds. “just a little more, sweetheart.”

he eased forward, thick inches dragging into you, stretching you inch by staggering inch.

and it ached, yet in the sweetest way—your hot, slicked walls hugging him so tight, making him curse low under his breath.

“there you go,” he murmured. “such a big girl.”

he wasn’t too long, but god, did his girth make up for it.

a thick, weighted base broad enough to stretch you wide already, the head flaring just slightly as it breached you.

by the time he bottomed out, you were trembling beneath him, hips flush, his pelvis pressing soft against the curve of your ass. stretched full. he paused, both hands gliding down to grip the lush swell of your hips.

his hips drew back, the broad head of his cock dragging slow and heavy along your sensitive walls, before rolling forward again with a deep, deliberate stroke.

“s-sooo, hngh— big,” your voice broke into a sob as your fingers curled into the cushions beneath you. your ass bounced back against his waist, cunt snug around his cock as your moans pitched higher.

the silk of his tie—still looped loose around his own throat, slid free with a soft whisper of fabric. nanami tugged it off carefully, slipping it around your throat instead. the silk hugged the delicate line of your neck as he tied it loosely, gathering the longer end in one hand.

“just so i can hold you steady, heh,” he whispered, almost like he was reassuring himself more than you.

“look at you,” nanami panted softly. “so pretty on my dick— just, hah, imagine what my son would think.”

his breathing was ragged now, heavier with each roll of his hips into yours. the tie pulled snug against your throat every time you rocked back. the next thrust was deeper this time, angling up just right as it punched a sob out of your throat.

“he didn’t know what he had,” he gritted out between strokes, the words dragging rough from somewhere deep in his chest. “i-idiot—threw away something this perfect.”

and if you didn’t know any better, it almost sounded like nanami was angry— jealous even. like the thought of you being mistreated was something he just couldn’t fathom.

his free hand dropped to your waist, steadying you as his rhythm began syncopating. the fog on his glasses was nearly opaque now, slipping low on the bridge of his nose.

and then—

your phone buzzes, followed by your tinny little singsong ringtone, the screen lighting up bright in the dim lighting of the room.

[incoming facetime: 🗑️]

you dazedly blink, barely able to register it through the heat and the fog filling your head.

“p-pick it up,” nanami murmured behind you, voice low, steady, almost too composed. you barely had the coordination, fingers fumbling for the phone. your thumb dragged across the screen, and his face filled the camera.

red. wild-eyed. breathing heavy.

“where the fuck are you? you think this is funny? i’ve been texting and calling all night—”

your face was all he could see at first. hair sticking to your damp temples. your breath shaky. eyelids heavy, barely open.

“answer me,” he barked. “are you with someone? don’t fucking lie—”

you smiled. slow. coy. “oh, i’m with. . . someone.”

“who?” he demanded, voice cracking. “tell me who it is right now, or i swear i'll be both of your asses!”

you tilt the phone. just enough.

the camera catches nanami in his perfect, damning glory— broad chest flushed with exertion, work shirt still open, tie wrapped snug around your throat. his hands heavy on your hips, muscles flexing beneath skin as he fucked into you.

your ex’s jaw dropped. “wait. is that—” his voice pitched. “is that my dad?”

you smiled wider. teeth flashing.

“what the fuck—are you out of your mind?! psycho bitch, you’re fucking insane—”

click.

call ended.

“he’s gonna lose his fucking mind,” you whispered, giggling into your own shoulder.

nanami chuckles deep and out of breath. “let him.”

you feel the way his strokes start to grow heavier, a tremble blooming deep in his thighs, hips snapping forward with less precision now.

nanami’s breath stuttered, grip flexing hard around the tie as if it was the only thing keeping him grounded to your pussy.

“i’m—ah, i’m not gonna last.” he husked, his hips jackhammering into you languidly, making you feel the full thickness of him with every stroke. your slick gushed every time he bottomed out, wet sounds shameless in the otherwise quiet room.

he was so painfully close, yet he wanted to savor this moment. wanted to have this memory seared behind his eyelids long after the night was gone.

your cries were turning breathless, slurred, the pleasure cresting sharp, almost unbearable as you felt that tightness coiling in your stomach once again. “k-kento, please—can’t—”

“don't hold back,” he husked, his breath catching in his throat. “you earned it, sweetheart. let go.”

you nodded frantically, unable to form anything coherent as your release slammed into you hard. violent. white flashes of pleasure detonating in your stomach and ripping through your body.

“fuckfuckfuckfuuck— ” your lashes batted, tiny choked whines spilling from your mouth as his cock twitched deep inside you, swelling thicker, the heavy weight of it pressing into every sensitive nerve as your walls milked him greedily.

nanami's hips faltered, pace stuttering into a sloppy rhythm as he scrambled, releasing the tie from around your throat with a quick, careful tug as he pulled out.

before you could even whine, you feel the heavy weight of his cock dragging up—resting thick and flushed against the dip of your spine.

his breath is broken into low moans, and you barely had a second before the hot, sticky ropes of his release spilled across your back, striping messy against your skin.

just in time.

nanami’s head bowed, blonde strands falling loose from where they’d slipped behind his glasses. you could feel the tremble in his thighs, rolling through his entire body as his climax overcame him.

and for a moment, all you could hear was both of your breaths—deep, messy, syncing. the air smelled like sex. musk. your juices still wet between your legs.

he lingered there for a second longer, hips pressed forward, until he finally exhaled slow.

“shit,” nanami muttered breathlessly. “did i— was that too much?”

his voice cracked gentle now, worried.

your laugh came out light, breathless, sweet—finding his worriedness nothing short of sweet. “no. not at all. felt so good.”

he hummed, quiet relief softening the crease of his brow as he leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to the back of your neck.

“but i guess uh, father’s day is ruined. oops.”

@ssorenz™ do not, copy, repost or translate anywhere without my knowledge.

[transmasc-tabris]

Fucking hell I'm dramatic.

[tonycries]

Can't Feel My Face.

Synopsis. First time getting pússydrúnk = first time losing his mind.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Higuruma x Reader, Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, PÚSSYDRÚNK MEN, dúmbifícation, tummy buIges, they go FÈRAL, cúmplay, marathons, babbIing, proposals, GOJO’S POWERS, ínnappropriate use of jujutsu, breéding, MEAN Geto, rough s, p sIapping, manhandIing, true form Sukuna, dp, exhíbitíonism (Geto and Higuruma), cervíx kíssing, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. Hope you have a lovely week <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Happy wife, happy life

“One more.”

“M-more, ma?”

The very tips of Toji’s ears burn with a scorching red blush, jaw gritting tighter and tighter with every pap! of your delicious hips slamming down onto his. And if you heard the way his rasping baritone cracked towards the end, well-

“Toji—” You’re gasping, swiping away the treacly droplets of saliva gushing from one end of his dopey grin. Like he didn’t even realize it. “Are you-”

“No.” 

The answer is instantaneous - seething. And so is the way he’s latching on two meaty palms on either side of your waist. Manhandling your glissading body until that slight smirk was fully pounded off of your lips. 

He was vulgar. Spitting through clenched teeth, “M’not- not what you’re ngh- thinking, silly girl. Tch- m’not that w-weak.” Toji’s darting his eyes up n’ down, mouth ajar at the heavenly sight of you gulping down every one of his long inches. Babbling thickly, “M’not- s’just that…”

“Just what?” And you didn’t know who was more ruined - you or him.

“Just…m-marry me.”

Oh, it was definitely him. Toji Fushiguro was fully and officially pussydrunk. 

A filmy gaze takes over his verdant eyes when those words make your glossy entrance flood with a few more slathers of slick, splotches of it puddling all over his jagged happy trail. He was in heaven. 

That is, until Toji realizes just what he’s uttered and he’s inhaling a sharp gasp. Fuck.

Bulging pecs heaving with embarrassment and pure carnal need once he tiredly hovers up two fat fingerpads and smashes your cheeks together into a pathetic pout. Lurching you over and gifting your lolling pinkish tastebuds with a syrupy web of saliva to shut you up before you can even think of snarking back.

“Sh-shut up.” He’s groaning into your slack cavern, brandishing a harsh strike of his bloated tip circumference into your cervix. Tense core burning with the stretch, “Just- just if we’re gonna hck! make Megumi a big brother, m’gonna marry you, ma- don’t be stupid.”

Fuck- what?

Your heart races, and Toji seems to have realized the effect his little confession had on you - even when his mind was all melty and feverish like this. 

Because you’re getting graced with a rapid three spanks to your drooling slit, before drawing a lazy few hearts over your perky clit. The ravenous end of his thumb was driving you mad, “That’s right. Open ‘er wider. Lemme see, ma.”

“S-so bossy.” You’re muffling out a whine, yet mindlessly heeding to every word he was prattling off. There’s a resounding squelch! from below you once Toji pries apart your gluey walls and matches your other set of lips by spitting out a steady stream of spittle. Choking out a moan at the beads of his own cum leaking out of you, “Sh-shiiit, Toji—”

“T-T-Toji—” He’s mocking, so many dramatic octaves higher to hide the needy tremor in his words. The meaner Toji got, the meaner his thrusts became. 

And the meaner his calloused fingers were, wafting over your pussymound to swipe up every weepy ounce of seed. Popping a few generous helpings of caramel salt sap into your mouth, “N’ you say I’m the- ngh- pussydrunk one.”

But he was - oh, he was.

No matter how much he was planting his feet flatly on the soft mattress to hide the desperate shiver running through every overstimulated limb in his body, no matter how much he was scrunching his heavy lids shut to stow away just how far his glassy irises were sliding backwards. 

You were riding him for what felt like hours now, and he was already tearing up. Delicately-flushed face drooping into the cushy pillow. You’re humming, “You are.”

“Shut the fuh-fuck up.” He growls, a slow trickle of sweat forming at his temple. “Pussydrunk- tch. As if. Can ya see hearts in m-my eyes or what, ma?”

Toji couldn’t stop himself from reeling one big, beefy arm behind his head and clasping onto the mahogany headboard. Building up dangerously, “S-so what if I c-can’t think- so what if this pretty pussy makes me want a baby—” 

His massive biceps flex so attractively, knuckles straining - hard enough that your head snaps up at the splintering crack! of wood-

“Toji- fuck fuck fuck–” Struggling to get out mere syllables let alone full sentences, he was swirling the ruby-red curve of his length ‘round and ‘round your mushy insides so good. Slippery orifice at the very middle of his mushroomy tip leaving heated French snogs all over those magical spots, “Are- are you okay, baby–?”

Shit, he’s bowing his muscular back the perfect curvature off of your drenched bedsheets. Sweat-glazed abs crushing up into your front, he scrunches his nose and keens.

“No- No.” There’s a zip! of power - of Toji’s power - and the bed cracks even further, as if he wasn’t even in control of it. “Gooood I love you, doll- love her.”

“Wh-what-” You’re following his lecherous gaze back down to your filthy cunt, where he was salivating at the sultry sight of your puffy pussy lips struggling to accommodate him. All weepy and messy. Messy with him.

Your tummy turns with just how full you were of his milky sap, yet you wanted more. Veins bubbling at the glutinous swash of his wiry strings of seed coating your innermost walls. 

Overstuffed to your tight brim with every girthy inch of his cock, a cute dimple embeds its way into the side of Toji’s cheek when he sees one of his puffy veins rub your slick hole just the way you liked. Snickering out - airy, breathless. Nonsensically. “I’m not p-pussydrunk- she is. Got me- got me goin’ crazy.”

There’s a solid twitch of Toji’s sobbing fat head at the very bottom of your pussy, and it’s all you can do to not scream. Close. 

Rutting your hips in a semi-bounce, it marks all down the striking flesh of your thighs with Toji’s prominent hipbones. It marks the door to your womb with him- 

“Cum f’me then, Toji—” You’re whimpering, watching the way his eyes widen a simple fraction. “A-all up inside- want it. Want is so ngh- bad.”

“G-greedy girl.” He grunts, oh-so-smug.

The very last thing before Toji feels like he’s in fucking heaven. Before he thinks that you might just be an angel watching over him - shuddering right over him while he pumps you so very full of copious volumes of cum.

It’s filthy. It’s overspilling. 

And he doesn’t even know how he’s still cumming, but right now Toji doesn’t think he can stop.

Toes curling with stimulation, towering body trembling underneath your very touch. He was sensitive. And he was rutting his hips up in an eager one-two to push the ivory wads of cum deeper inside of you-

“S-so full.” You’re biting your lip- only for a split-second before Toji’s straying up a thick thumb and pulling it out from between your teeth.

You feel your core heat up as soon as he takes over nipping on your lower lip like his favorite candy. And with one hand he’s stroking the drooling ends of your cunt, lapping up his saturated seed; with the other he’s patting that tummy bulge of yours. “T-told you I’ll get ya ngh- pregnant.”

“Toji…” You’re crooning, and that low tone of yours is enough to make his breath hitch. Your hips come down in an arched drag all down his toned abs, grinding your neglected clit. Hard. “One more?”

Toji’s voice cracks, “P-please.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - “J-just the…”

Now, Nanami meant to feed your cute, weepy orifice with just his fattened tip - he meant to give his pretty lil’ wife only a taste before he had to rush off to work this morning. 

Half-dressed up in that formal suit you loved so much, heated body firm against your adorably arched back. At least…that’s what he meant to do.

But with only a singular proud inch sunken inside you, your husband finds himself gasping. Heaving. “Just the tip” be damned. 

“M-my darling—” What’s this? Nanami Kento never stutters. He never sounds so…fucked-out already.

Your hips rut backwards and make him break out in a boiling hot sweat, “Are you okay–?”

One warm hand clamors down to the curve of your waist where you were pressed side-by-side, sensually dragging up that flimsy silk nightgown of yours. The other immediately rovering to his hefty base and squeezing as if to hold himself back.

“Fuck- fuck! Yes, dear, I-I’m okay, just…” He’s pushing his condensed glasses up, drawling with a throaty tinge of madness in his words. Batting and batting those long tawny lashes, but his vision was still tinged with such hot arousal. “Do you have hah- anythin’ you want to say to say t’me, hm?”

You’re craning your glassy eyes over your shoulder with a quirked brow, thighs falling further open at his scorching hot nudge. Yearning for more more more. “What do you mean, Ken?”

And oh- shit. 

Your voice saying his first name like that is enough to make Nanami’s powerful hips rut in a way he didn’t even mean to. Enough to make him bite down fervently on his stern lower lip and suck in a deep inhale once his plumpened crownhead jolts–

“Y-your pretty pussy, my love.” He’s gasping out in a cloudy pant of heat and haze against the back of your neck. So earnestly filthy when complimenting your cunt that it makes you squirm, “Feels s-so…so heavenly. Wet. Even more than usual.”

Fuck. 

And then it hits you.

“Maybe- hck!” It was so difficult to speak when your dear Nanami was just bursting with nervous lust, his muscular thighs shivering up against the backs of your own. Ready to pounce. Read to break you. Your whine trills with anticipation, “Maybe it’s because m’ovulating, Kento. I haaaah- heard that can affect ah!”

“Shit, how could I have forgotten?” 

And right now you don’t know whether he’s muttering huskily to you or to himself. Every spilling syllable making his abdomen angle subconsciously deeper and deeper. A rapid little push back and forth to fit past your taut ring of soft muscle, “M-my calendar said it’s your ngh- ovulation week, darlin’. That’s why she’s so…sloppy. That’s why she’s making me so…”

Pussydrunk. Nanami’s voice trails away behind you like he couldn’t even bear to finish the sentence - because he’s never been like this. So out-of-control.

Indeed, you’re pouring out such tangled knots of slick that it was making the base of Nanami’s curvaceous balls flood. Slathering out a thick coating of sap all over his fat digits and then some. 

“But look at you- ohhh look at you—” Breathless worship strikes you once he’s lurching up his hand to admire the glossy glaze you’d topped all down his golden wedding ring. Awe-struck. Plopping them into his mouth with a soggy fwop! “C-can’t believe you’re mine. Ohh can’t believe you’re mine.” And before you know it, Nanami spanks the end of his palm down your pussymound. Hard. “M’s-sorry, my love.”

What was he even apologizing for? 

Just as soon as you’re left wondering - you’re given your answer. 

In a single, jagged buck that makes your toes curl with bliss, the staggering stretch of Nanami’s size dabs open every nook n’ cranny inside of you. As if he was well and fully intent on splitting you apart. 

He didn’t even have to try to mush the zig-zag of his veiny underside down your sweetest spots, buttery orifice topping with such heaps of sweltering hot slick dripping off of your cervix. Your tummy weighs down with the viscous plap! of his sugarcoating pre.

“Bite- bite down if m’too rough, my wife.” You’re blinking back your bleary vision to take in the sight of his smooth, tannish forearm presented in front of you. All strong and sexily flexing, it simply makes your mouth water. “Because s’about to get…bumpy.”

Yeah, he definitely wasn’t going to work today.

Not when he had you like this - your mouth spilling out so many ounces of drunken saliva, your gummy walls molding and taking him in so easily. 

“Atta giiiirl— take it. Jus’ the- just the-” He’s cutting himself off with every lightning bolted vein pushing past your teary entrance, letting off a gasp! just as soon as he takes a glance down to find himself all bottomed-out. Way past the tip, still pushing and pushing and pushing- “Oh, s-sorry. Can’t control it ngh! Sorry sorry sorry can’t-” 

“Fuck! S-so good, Kento–” You’re whimpering, flinching at the wet texture of his tongue stealing a looong lick up your throat. 

The sharpened edges of his canines - ones he normally oh-so-carefully kept away from damaging your pretty skin - nip down your sprinting pulse. Mouth watering at the throbbing ba-dump! he could feel. Nanami’s voice comes out tight, restrained still. “But- but m’being so…pussydrunk.”

Truly, in every sense of the word. 

The only thing on Nanami’s mind being to pound his bloated length into you so vulgarly rough that his toned obliques were aching. To prick the target of your g-spot each n’ every time with his swirling crownhead, leaving wet spatters of precum for you to remember him by. 

And you don’t know if he could even hear you right now, you don’t know if he could even breathe. And yet, you find yourself babbling away anyways, “But- But I like it rough, Ken.”

Fuck.

Nanami’s mouth parts open with a breathless little, “Fuck.” And you swear you’re hearing his rich bass break into a zillion pieces at the end. 

His once-sloppily needy turning into something even ruder, wringing out a pitch ah! ah! ah! out of you with every thrust. He’s trotting down a free palm underneath your slick-lacquered inner thighs and smearing you open shamefully. 

“Sh-shit- in so deep.” You’re whinging euphorically, fingers itching to grab the expensive fabric of his tie trawling up and down your back. “M-maybe I should get you hck! pussydrunk more often, hm?”

Oh, how he agreed. 

But Nanami wasn’t done. Far from it - two fingers wrenching your tear-streaked face to meet his deep molten gaze, hips searing hot. “Mhm— Now look into my eyes when I fuck you stupid, my love.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - IT GIRL!

“Fuck-” Geto’s cutting himself off with a strangled gasp! when you let your fingers thread through his long, inky locks. Crescents of your nails caressing his sweat-drenched scalp and making him keen. Pulling. He stares around at the cult members encircling you two, “-y-you.”

“S’what you’re hngh! doing, Sugu—” You’re giggling out, biting your lip - though, not for long. Choking on a pitiful squeal once he thumbs away your entrapped maw and bites. 

A punishment. 

A punishment was what this was supposed to be - to embarrass your adorable self for messing up that last mission. 

But fuck- right about now, it was Geto who was so thoroughly impacted by the way you were straddling his slender hips just so. Your vulgar tempo drives his eyes skittering all the way to the back of his lids. 

Shit, he should’ve never let you ride him.

“S’this- s’this all ya got?” Geto grits his pearly whites, stare darting away from your tempting tits before he loses it. His meaty thighs fold up behind you n’ inch you down towards him. Because, hell, he didn’t think he could even raise his delirious head at the moment. 

Tone raising, “See that? Tch, shoulda- shoulda had this be your task instead. S’where you belong, slutty lil’ thing.”

Oh, and you already knew he didn’t mean a word that spilled out of his ravenous mouth. Already knew that Geto probably didn’t even know what he was babbling. 

“Mhm— yes, leader.”

Panting at what a tease you are.

Parched tongue soothing over the bruise surely to blossom on your pretty lips. And Geto’s next words are low, dangerous - you swear his hazy amethyst eyes flash with something that told you you were fucked. “Gettin’ reeeeal mouthy, gorgeous.”

One spank sings out a sharp thwack! from your puffed-up pussylips, and then two more ring from where Geto’s toying the curved ends of his slender digits over your clit. Ruthless. Greedy gaze narrowing while his other hand rakes looong lines down your hips. “Too mouthy.” 

You’re whimpering at the sheer unadulterated stimulation - the way that he was fucking up into you so mean. Cutting off each of your stuttered bounces with a striking rut of his own. With a solid smooch! into where your tender g-spots were aching.

He was fucking you stupid.

The air sings with his dragged-out whistle, “Cockdrunken a-already, huh?”

Those last words aren’t meant for you - and your spine stiffens at the murmurs and agreements echoing from your little audience. 

Ah, might as well give them a show. 

Just then you’re tugging even harder on Geto’s silky hair and he whimpers- Stomach twisting, you barely manage to get out, “Who’s pussydrunken?” 

“Shit- you little–” He’s gurgling through a glistening line of drool that homes itself near the watery edges of his lips. Fighting and fighting to keep his head from lolling languidly backwards- why wasn’t his melty mind cooperating with him at all? “You- o-ohhhh, you are going to pay for this.”

God, you can’t help the way that little threat only leaves you wetter. 

Splotching out oodles of saccharinely syrupy slick that helps you slip n’ slide your throbbing clit all over the front of Geto’s washboard abs. Heavenly. Every laddered drag down his rippling muscles was delicious - you don’t know who enjoyed the lecherous act more, you or him. 

“What was that?”

Dewy eyes lock onto yours - heated. “Fuh-fuck you.” Rutting up harder and harder, your pace-ridden body stings after each pound. His hands on you grow painful - bruising - pushing your head down with a clawed hand on your scalp. “Fuck you fuck- fuck–”

And Geto’s long lashes glisten in the dim lighting as he bats away a bulbous sheen of tears, taking his sweet sweet time to even register what you were talking about.

In the distance you think you hear someone gasp. The big, bad leader of the Time Vessel Association brought to tears? Brought to utter speechlessness?

You’re snickering down at your leader before you know it. Clingy walls molding around his cylindrical length like a hot adhesive in a way that made him blush, “S’this your fuck! first time bein’ pussydrunk?”

Thighs shaking, “I-I’m not–”

“Well, can you even hah- remember my name, Sugu–?”

“Bitch.” He spits out.

He was completely and utterly under your thumb for the very first time and he didn’t know how to handle it. Doing everything and anything. Losing face in front of his followers — fast. 

And you could feel yourself getting closer and closer at just how pretty Geto Suguru was under the mercy of your sultry touch. Shivering bodily wherever your sensory fingertips drifted, gasping through bouts of driveling slobber whenever your engulfing pussy squeezed too tight. 

Geto’s latching both trembly hands of his on the slamming mounds of your flesh and pinning you down. Holding you so-very-still. 

You can practically hear the danger-impeding growl in the words snarled against your ear. “Who’s pussydrunk now?” He’s sinking the sharp fringes of his canines into your sensitive lobe once you start gyrating your hips impatiently. Barely shifting an inch, “Yeah? Yeahhh wan’ me to m-move, huh?”

“That’s- that’s unfair.” You’re huffing and puffing above him, your hardened nipples catching onto the curves of his pecs sinfully. So close. 

“Oh yeah? S’it unfair?” Towards the rest of the cult- and of course, they follow their leader. Of course, they’re agreeing with whatever Geto’s drawling out drunkenly. Spitting into your half-open mouth, “They don’t think so.”

And oh, that lustful cloud taking over his gaze told you that it wasn’t over. 

The way that Geto was turned on enough to drool with every swab into your geysering insides told you enough- 

With another loud swat planted on where your heated pussymound was waterfalling out sploshing heaps of slick, he thumbs the perky outers of your clit. “Cum f’me then. Make yourself ah- cum and I might jus’ forgive you for c-calling me tch- pussydrunk.”

You were already so close- already teetering on the edge that only another vulgar swerve of his fattened cock massaging your insides is all it takes.

You might have been just as far gone as he was. Head throwing back, a strangled whine of Sugu– escaping you, capped knees plopping you down even harder to ride out your white-hot high. 

And Geto was letting you.

Oh, fuck any stupid punishment - he was letting you trawl out every blissful pinpoint of your high on him. Using him. Mouth falling open in a gasp once you don’t just cum - you’re squirting, a crashing wave of sweetened sap spraying out of you like a fountain.

Shit.

Shit shit shit- he doesn’t even know what he’s doing. Doesn’t even know what he’s thinking other than slapping down an open palm to scoop up every waterlogged gush pouring out of you.

Popping it into his mouth- “I-I said cum- not squirt, gorgeous.” Geto whines - whines - out, mouth smeared with a twisted, dopey grin that made him look so ruined. In the blink of your bleary eyes, he’s captured one of your hands to curl around his clammy throat, begging you to squeeze. Addicted. “Let’s s-see if we can get it right this time.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Raw, next question.

“C-can I really…?” Choso breathes out like a prayer, not even having put it in yet but oh-so-ruined already. Licking his cerise lips when he curls a few thin fingers around his hefty base and draaaags a long line down your teary slit, “S’it- s’it really okay f’me to go in raw this time, baby?”

And he was opening up your slobbery cunt so tenderly, prying your puffy folds apart to give your flooded entrance an admiring look. 

How ready and drooling you were - for him. All for him, him, him.

Fuck. It’s enough to make him blush maidenly pink and dart his honeypool eyes back up to your fluttering eyes. Attempting and failing to stop the animalistic twitch of his greedy crownhead-

“Mhm–” You’re drawling out, a few fingers tangling with his soft mahogany hair and making Choso moan. You swear you’re feeling the curvaceous edge of his mushroom tip spurt out a steamy jetstream of webbed pre, “Put it in, Cho. Wanna feel you deep inside, m’kay?”

He’s nodding away deliriously while you speak, nodding away even after. Head bobbling on its own like he was listening to the saturated slurps! being let off by your cunt the moment he’s sinking past.

“Gonna put it in, okay? Gonna put it- o-oh.” Choso ruts his ballooned-up cockhead in through your slippery hole, brushing the sensitive orifice in his middle right up against your gummy walls. All it takes for his half-lidded eyes to go pure white, “Baby. Baby…”

Trailing those words away into nothingness, you’re rendered equally as speechless when Choso wrenched his hips back as if in a daze. Disbelieving. Only to pump you full and fuller again, and again. 

And again and again and-

You’re brushing away a few strands of hair plastered onto his sweat-shimmering forehead, “Are you okay, Cho?”

“N-no-” Gasping out in short, condensed breaths that fan over your face in hot waves. Everything about your dear boyfriend was burning up right now; his skin, his words, his cadence. Pushing and pushing- “Why?”

Quirking a brow, it’s all you can do to not show off the tremor in your tone from the way he glides his sobbing tip down, down, down your cervix. “Wh-what do you mean, Cho?”

“Why?” Fuck- there it is again. Whispered out like an accusation over and over while he’s rovering two hands underneath your jittery thighs to fold you like a lawnchair into a lecherous mating press. With a peck to your lips, he moans, “Wh-why didn’t you tell me it could feel so ngh! good, baby– ohhh, baby, m’goin’ fucking crazy over here.”

And he was fucking you like it, too.

Usually Choso Kamo was smooth, suave where he wanted to be n’ letting you use him however you wanted with the cutest blush breezing all over his face. 

And he was blushing right now, alright. Only it was with sheerly raw frustration at the fact that his sobbing length was hitting the goopy bottom of your pussy and he couldn’t go any deeper. Like he couldn’t stop, hips out of control.

Handsome jaw clenching, he hikes up a powerful thigh and bends.

“F-fuuuuck–” You’re squealing at the searing stretch of his strengthened limbs manhandling you easily, bending you like some glorified ragdoll to every want and whim. “Baby-”

And just that little nickname is enough to make Choso shudder, all the way from the tips of his curled toes to this wobbly lower lip. Suddenly striking your gushing g-spot with so much rugged intensity that it makes your veins bubble n’ boil. 

“Baby.” He’s echoing out, a spit-slicked smile spreading all over his face. And there’s something in his gentle, fawny eyes that makes Choso look…feral. “Baby baby baby- fuuuuck, m’gonna give ya a baby.”

Your mouth drops into a neat oh of shock - so that’s what it was. 

He was pussydrunk. Utterly and completely pussydrunk, and only with a handful of vulgar strokes inside of your dripping cunt. 

The very thought is just enough to stimulate big, fat tears into welling up behind his eyes. And they’re smudging a Stygian few lines of eyeliner down Choso’s high cheekbones, blubbering. “S’that- s’that okay, baby?” Moaning when a few salty beads rover down to your tummy, he smears the mess to make it even messier. “Gonna have you m-milk me.”

“Maybe you should ask me when you’re not ngh- pussydrunk, Cho–” You’re managing out a barely-lucid giggle that only makes him huff adorably.

“Pussydrunk?”

“Mhm–”

“So that’s what it is. Can’t think. Can’t breathe. Can’t do anything but…this-” He’s angling his hips to perk up a rounded bulge at your tummy, and with a gasp you’re realizing that it’s where he was fucking into you. A lecherous, cylindrical outline that made your thighs tighten over Choso’s sculpted shoulders. Brushing a fat thumb over it, “I’m doin’ this right- hck- I’m reaching the very end of your p-pretty pussy.”

You’re halfway crying when his mean thumb taps over the rotund hill and pushes down. “Wanna make this bump e-even ngh- bigger, baby– Look so pretty all rooound n’ glowing.” You were so weak to the way he’s batting his long lashes, “Lookin’ like ya want me ta get you p-pregnant.”

He’s so shy about it - flushing the sweetest shade of red. But the way that only makes Choso buck even wilder into you was anything but. 

And you’re blaming that for the way your mouth opens with a pathetically pitched, “Yes. Yes please-” Throwing your arms amorously around his flexing shoulders, you could count every flex and shift of his back muscles. “-cum inside me, baby.”

And he does.

Your words were enough - more than enough. 

With only a few more deeply probing strikes to your sponged cervix, you’re feeling your poor cunt overspill with torrents of warm cum. 

Maybe along the way you’re cumming, too. But all you can feel are the thickened wads of him sliiiiding all down your leaky lips. Ribbons upon ribbons glistening down the stretched-out ends of your pussy and forming a creamy ring covering his base. 

Choso can only stare half-lidded at the utter mess his twitching cock was making. He almost feels a pang of disappointment at the ounces going to waste. 

“Hah?” Choso’s breath comes out panted and hollowed, burning hot against your face once his hips start slamming even harder into yours. Without even realizing. A lazy smile cracks his parted lips as if he couldn’t believe it, as if he was just discovering fucking you all full. “Hah- oh, baby- you’re gonna get me pregnant now. Gonna get me- shit. Might just.”

He looked so genuinely serious. Pussydrunk enough that it made sense to him. 

Splaying out your legs just a bit wider, he’s hastily latching a hand downwards. Pumping the excess of his long cock, the air between your legs just humming with cursed energy- is he…

“Choso-” You’re yelping at the pressure of cursed energy and your own high, eyeing the way that your boyfriend’s sexy face tattoo was ever-growing. “-are you using your power-”

“Yes-” He gasps, not a shred of shame. “Yes yes yes yes.” 

Not a shred of regret for the way he’s manipulating the blood in his body to go back down to his pulsing cock. To make himself stiffen up even harder and harder once more- 

One look at Choso told you he was gone. His first time going in raw and he’ll never be the same again.

Drooling, smiling. Eyes growing darker when his veiny cock pulls your rubbery walls tautly again, rock-hard. “Gotta make sure it takes, baby.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - BOAF?!

Sukuna was filthy.

Sukuna was mean.

And Sukuna was veering right towards insanity once feels your trembly fingers eagerly twitching towards his second neglected cock. Wrapping your digits around his massively fat girth and pinpointing your clit with his crowned tip.

“What’cha think yer doing there, ma?” He’s leering down at you, snickering at the adorable way you huff and puff when his heavy, throbbing shaft makes your wrist ache. 

You pout in a stupidly pathetic way that makes the pulsing length inside of you twitch. Sukuna’s monstrous mouth on his stomach lapping up the stray rivulets of syrupy slick sprinkling from your cunt, “Just- just want both, Kuna.”

“Both?” He’s rumbling- in disbelief. In shock. How could one human be so…greedy? Parched tone lilting higher in both volume and pitch. “Barely handlin’ one n’ you want both?”

Oh, and when you can only nod and nod- Sukuna finds himself growling in desperation. No, it was something different, something more out-of-control. Hit with a sudden bout of something dizzyingly carnal inside of him-

He’s swatting down the fat pads of his fingertips on your teary pussymound, elongated nails hovering darkly above where you were the most tender n’ needy. 

And the king of curses finds himself biting his lower lip to hold back a moan when your pussy only gets wetter. “Show me then- prove it t’me how much you wan’ it, brat.”

“S-so badly.” With a cry of desperation, your fingers slither down to push apart your puffy pussylips. 

“Wider.”

“Ngh-” And it’s almost embarrassing just how intensely your lover looks at you, the way his cursed mouth licks its lips. “Want you both inside me.”

He’s…feral. 

Sukuna swirls a long finger of his own around your elastic wall, the edges of both mouths curling into a smirk at just how pliable you are. 

How he loved you. Loved this cunt. Couldn’t think of anything but that.

“Naughty fuckin’ thing.” He spits out, bubblegum pink brows furrowing. But- really, who the hell was Ryomen Sukuna against you? Especially when he himself feels so…fucked-out. Crimson eyes shuttering half-lidded, his grin turns handsomely lop-sided. “Take it then- take it already.”

He was making you feel so full. 

Both twin cocks so incredibly fat that your rubbery hole was being stretched to limits you didn’t even know were possible. And Sukuna takes every opportunity to make you gasp, to slip inside another thorough expanse of his veiny cock and leave your toes curling.

And that wasn’t all. 

Oh, that wasn’t all. The sheerly raw texture of both lengths bustling inside you was enough to make your slit pour out a quick few torrents of slick. As if you were squirting.

“Hoooly shit, mama.” He huffs out through sharply flared nostrils, looking just about as gone as you once your gooey pussy is making way for him to feed in a few pounding inches. “There we go- move that damn hand.”

Sukuna’s rudely swatting away the fingers still toying with your spraying cunt before you can even think about it. “Fuck. What are ya doin’ t’me?” 

“Are you…” You’re blinking with the last few dredges of your rationality. “-are you pussydrunk, Kuna?”

“No.” Splitting your cervix with the jagged streaks of his sap, it drips down to the very front of your pussy with a sharp thud! thud! thud! “Yes- no. Maybe. Sh-shut up, human.”

He was impatient. He was feral. Bouncing up a sculptured thigh to keep your hips gravitating down deeper n’ deeper down his vicious shafts, every pap! of his capped knee striking the globes of your ass leave you whining. Back arching-

“No no no no, don’t run out on me just yet.” Sukuna hisses, voice as commanding as usual. Yet, underneath that was a current of something…panicked that even your cottony mind could make out. Animalistic. “Don’t run. Need it- I need you, mama.” Latching two massive hands on either side of your waist, and then a third on your scalp to push you down. “Wan’ed both- so take it.”

Rough. 

“K-Kuna—!” You’re mewling, grappling heedlessly onto the broad mountains of his deltoids and making them flex. Mind growing hazier and hazier by the second.

He snickers, “Who’s the drunk one now? Me or you?”

“Don’t- I don’t kn-”

“I- said-” He’s drilling in thorough thrusts that drive those words to your very core. “Who’s- pussydrunk- now?”

And you didn’t even know what you were saying. You didn’t even know the words before they’re tumbling out. “Me– m-me.” 

“That’s right- allll cockdrunk f’me.” But god, your pretty noises were enough to make all two of his mouths bubble out thin lines of saliva. Drooling. “F-fuckin’ needy pussy.” Did you just make the king of curses stutter? Before you can even register the impossible feat, he plows on. “Has me hypnotized- fuck, m’so ruined for ‘er.”

Shit, he was finally admitting it - to himself, at least. You had him pussydrunk.

You had his heart racing with a fervent ba-dump! right in time with the thrashes he was planting on the bullseye of your g-spot. One. And then two split-ended tips driveling all over your bruised walls. 

And it’s like he was almost angry at you for exposing his only ever weakness - you, and your cute cunt 

Perking up a fourth hand underneath your thighs in just the right angle for the saccharine dewdrops of your slick to spill right down to his twin mouth. 

“Want that?” Sukuna’s babbling comes out in heated gusts against your ear, both throbbing cocks leaving wet splotches of pre down the most sensitive areas of your inner walls. And it was so heavenly - just when you thought the stimulation couldn’t get any better, his cursed tongue steals a lingering kiss over where your folds were the puffiest. “Wanna make out w’my t-tongue, huh, ma?”

At this point you can only nod, jittering down your slickly glissading body until his mouth was all slathered with your sloppy pussy. Making such nasty slurping noises that had your ears popping.

“Anything- anything you want, brat-” Sukuna leaves innocent pecks down your neck - something he never stoops down to a mushy enough position to do. But right now, it was like he couldn’t stop. Just like he couldn’t stop keeling his hips off of the creaking mattress and up between your fluttering lips.

“A-anything?” You’re unsure whether you heard that correctly. 

Groaning- he nods. And it wasn’t the usual, stern nod Sukuna loved. Right now, you had him on a leash. “Anything, just say the word- fuck. Ya have the king wrapped ‘round your finger, y’know?”

♡ GOJO SATORU - UNSEAL

The strongest’s first time getting his hands on you after being unsealed and he was pussydrunk instantly. 

And right now your dumbstruck mind was wondering whether he would ever let you go, whether he would ever even slow down–

“S-Satoru?” 

Gojo flinches right on top of you as if his entire muscular body was zapped with a thousand bolts of electricity, the mere sound of your honeyed tone enough to make him swab at your springy cervix with a strangled whimper. 

“Satoru.” Gasping, you’re letting your hazy peripherals glide over your heady bedroom; that shattered bedside lamp, the way your unbolted furniture was hovering. “C-calm down.”

Only getting sloppier.

“Fuh-fuck!” He’s hissing, silky blindfold dampening with a few overstimulated tears. Octaves higher, tinged with a tremble of madness that made it sound like he was holding back a crazed laugh, “Calm down. Calm down- telling me to- fuck-”

Before you know it you’re being hit with yet another mean strike of his dribbling mushroom tip, targeting your most battered insides with cute speck of pre. And then an even meaner hit of his massive palms slamming down on the stinging flesh of your hips. 

Uncontrollable - the force of it enough to leave you bruised from the inside out. 

Making your weepy entrance stream out enough globules of cum to formulate rings upon creamy rings ‘round his bulky base. Without even trying.

Because Gojo had grown muscular. Even bigger during his stay in the prison realm. 

So strong he was bending you pliantly without even realizing, and it was just making your greedy pussy fountain out in even more aroused waves of slick. 

His body was pressing into you deeply, nudging your clammy face to plaster ever-intensely into the soaked pillow. Smearing your cheek across the treacly puddle of saliva with a push of his massively strong arm, his crownhead jackhammers away viciously. Sloshing about waves of buttery sap inside you, “Don’t- don’t talk to me.”

You’re whimpering at the way his meaty thighs kiss your own and shiver. Fattened balls oh-so-hot and aching at the base of your cunt with every pap, “W-what do you mean, Toru- mmpf!”

Gojo covers his palm over your stupidly ajar maw to catch every rope of pathetic spittle drivelling out of you, the wet splat! all over his mountainous hand making him groan.

“I said- fuck!” Spitting out in warm, marky pants against the tender skin of your throat, sharp canines nip down on your pulse as if to remind you exactly who you’re dealing with. Him. “S-say anythin’ more in that pretty voice again n’ m’gonna g-get you pregnant, sweetheart. Or m’gonna make you get me pregnant. Fuck. Can’t do anythin’ else- can’t even th-think.”

The image makes Gojo himself shudder, visualizing just how pretty you would be all round and glowing. Fuck, he really was pussydrunk.

He’s leaning back ever-so-slightly to get a ravenous eyeful of your sloppy hole, droopy eyes imagining those beaded gumdrops of your slick to be something more like his cum. And for that inflated bulge of his cylindrical outline at your tummy to be something…more. 

It’s enough to make his mouth water, fat wads of saliva sprinkling all down your arched back in a glossy sheen.

“B-but, Toru.” You always did have a smart mouth, huh? Your hips perk backwards, velvety walls squeezing his thick, feverishly hot length until Gojo whines. He whines. “Y-you’re gonna break-”

Smiling something all dopey and drunken, “Break you?”

“Break- break everything.” You’re trilling out, and- shit, you didn’t forget who you were dealing with, right?

Because the very last syllables of your sentence have barely tumbled from between your lips before your skin prickles - and you’re feeling the icy air around you stagnate with so many countless atoms. 

You’re feeling the scorching heat of his body pull away with a pained grunt, head lolling upwards to and fro - from the hovering tables, the split bedframe, the bulbs that were disintegrated - as if he’d just realized how completely out of control his powers were. How he was.

“Oh.” Gojo’s drawling out with a carnal husk in his tone, doughy ends of his two of his long fingers coming up to snap!

“Ah!” You’re yelping- you’re heaving in deep breaths of air because in simple nanoseconds, Gojo Satoru had both your furniture and you cluttering downwards. 

Your back hits the soaked-through bed with a slight bounce, desperately clawing the crescent edges of your nails into his deltoids for an ounce of balance. Wait, weren’t you just on all fours? 

Did…did he just-

“Mhmmm— sure did teleport us, my girl.” He’s crooning into your ear, and you don’t know if you’d just prattled that out loud or if your boyfriend could read minds. Whether he had even realized he’d teleported you two before you’d pointed it out. You wouldn’t even be surprised right about now; because just one tug of his thick thumb down the edge of his blindfold made your jaw drop.

Made your thighs tighten.

Made your heart race in both fear and anticipation - Gojo looked feral. Gone.

His summer blue eyes wild, bolting with power and bolts of lightning. Predatory leer painted permanently all over his prettily flushed features, and you swear you catch the glint of a thin line of saliva dripping from the pursed corners of his cherry-red lips. 

And he was so sensitive. 

Blindfold fully off and dangling haphazardly around Gojo’s neck, the sensations and wetly clingy texture of your dripping cunt was too much. He was moaning out sobs, he was bucking in sloppy half-thrusts.

He was shaking as if he couldn’t even control the copious piles and piles of power and strength he’d gained. 

Pouring it all out into dragging his splayed-out palms underneath your thighs sensually, up n’ down. It’s almost relaxing. That is, until he’s throwing them over two broad shoulders and snapping you in half down, down, down-

Allll the way until Gojo’s prespired forehead was smooching yours, mouth half-loosened right above yours. 

Bottoming out his reddened cock once more - the lecherous feeling is so sexy that with a bite to his bottom lip, Gojo’s spurting out a singular fat splatter of soppy cum inside of you once more. Feverish. Messy. 

All the while staring so deeply and heart-eyed into your gaze that it makes you almost shy. You feel so overstuffed - all the way to the very brim - and Gojo was simply insatiable. 

“Ohhhh, j-just look- you- ngh-” He could barely even string together the most basic of sentences, brows crinkling adorably the moment he’s sinking his veiny girth in and out of your tight hole. Every thick thud into your goopy depths making Gojo’s skin flicker with thin shards of blue lightning. “-l-look how you’re gonna make the ngh- prettiest mama, my girl.”

♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - G-g-g-genius

Now Higuruma Hiromi was smart - a genius, even. 

Always driving you raving mad with his sharp mouth and his even sharper strikes into your every magical orifice. He didn’t even have to think about making your cunt weep in so many different ways.

Until now, that is. 

“Wh-wh-what?” Higuruma’s furrowing his brows, a scorching hot blush invading his handsome cheeks at just how pathetically he was stuttering right now. And he was sure his coworker on the other end of the phone could catch that needy tremor in his tone. “Sorry- could you repeat that?”

That sentence wasn’t meant for you - and you knew that. 

But that still doesn’t stop you from digging the curves of your knees even deeper into the plush mattress, snickering. “Oh? This?” Pushing your hips back until you’re hitting his washboard abs with a stinging pap! “Wan’ me to do it ag- mmpf!”

Desperately, he’s clawing at the very crown of your scalp and pushing your face down into the satiny pillowcase. 

Grunting into the phone through clenched teeth, “That? O-oh, that was my wife-” Shit, it takes every ounce of capable will in Higuruma’s body to stop his hoarse breath from hitching when your clingy walls get slipperier. Wetter. A treacly stream of slick escaping you when he gets…rough. “-she’s just driving me crazy.” 

You’re arching your spine into a delicious curve, your puffy lips squeezing around Higuruma’s veiny cock until he can’t help but buck- 

Mind blanking. Until he can’t help but give your head another harsh push, seething. “In the best way.”

Higuruma can feel a nervous sprinkle of perspiration trekking from his temple, all the way down to his bobbing Adam’s apple. You really were driving him crazy, and he can’t stop himself- he can’t even slow down the aching swabs he’s planting at your innermost depths. 

Honestly, he should’ve expected this - taking a work call during his precious time with his wife? You were bound to toy with your husband. He just didn’t expect to be so…affected. 

Thwack!

“Shit.” Higuruma’s hissing underneath his heady breath, a cloud of sweltering hot air hitting your bowed back when he realizes that his yearning body had just pounded into you the way he wanted. So badly. Heavy balls hitting the base of your gumdropping slit and making your mouth spill out in moans, “Be quiet- by quiet f’me, angel.”

In fact, you were doing the very opposite.

Your tummy was tightening in euphoric knots- yielding your hips to wring out such lustrous ribbons of his cobwebbing pre, faster. Sloppier.

“Wh-what? Shit– m’sorry.” Managing to get out all in a rushed murmur to the man on the other end of the line - and even that was a feat with the way you were getting oh-so-greedy. 

You’re gasping into the cottony mouthful of pillows once you feel him trawl a warm hand all down your spine. Well-defined pecs rumbling with the words, “My wife s’needing some help- I’ll talk to ya at work, Nanami.” 

It made his mouth water to see just how much you were aching and hot for him. He was so close that his plump breeder balls were just aching for sweet, sweet release. 

And as soon as the phone is out of his grasp, Higuruma’s planting peck after open-mouthed peck down the middle. Making you yelp at the scratchy texture of his pinkish tastebuds taking a looong lick.

“S’a fuckin’ i-important call, sugar–” Higuruma punctures his words with thorough, pressurized thrusts that drive his sticky crownhead all the way into the very bottom of your pussy. The spanks! of his flesh on yours so loud now that it makes your ears pop. “How dare you. Don’t even know how you- fuck! Whaddaya even do t’me.”

It’s only when you’re feeling the weighty splat! of something wet that you’re reeling your head up from its cozy haven. Your husband’s lips curling into a sheepish smile, all half-lidded and pretty. 

“Awww, my poor Hiromi–” You’re cooing, swiping away the responsible rivulets of drool that was spraying all over you. That tender touch for his fatly swollen ruby tip to flinch angrily, “Feelin’ all pussydrunk, my baby?”

“M-m’not–” he’s groaning. Dark lashes fluttering, flicking his puffy lids with a seam of glistening tears. He was. “I’m just…”

Out of control? Feral? Breaking at the seams?

Whichever it was, the very thought of being hostage to just how good your pretty pussy felt was making Higuruma’s heart race. Jaw dropping, head falling slack- “I just…just wanna be ngh- yours.” 

Before you can even open your mouth to tease him, he’s fucking you silent. Rendering you dumbstruck only numerous repeated collisions of his rounded crownhead into where your bundle of nerves were the most sensitive. Once. Twice. Thrice. Over and over-

“M’gonna put a r-ring on it, angel.” He’s practically collapsing on top of you now. Washboard abs melting into your back, dark happy trail leaving the curve of your ass tender. “Gotta be your husband.”

You’re yelping, “Husband?”

“Mhm—-” Oh, he was serious. He couldn’t even see the golden glint of your matching wedding rings - couldn’t see past the furious ache of his cock buried deeply within you. How he wanted more. “Always- always always. Gonna be your househusband if you want- your- your anything. Jus’ wanna be yours.”

You’ve never encountered your oh-so-smart husband babbling away nonsense like this. And the stark difference is enough to make your hot core twinge. “Hiromi—”

He flinches, voice husky. “Y-yes, sugar?”

Shit- you were so close. And the way that his bawling divot streaks out long swipes down your cervix once you motion him closer is so delicious. You could feel your hole quivering for release. 

Higuruma’s hand is warm against yours, as if his entire body was burning from the inside out. His hips stutter, dewy eyes widening when you reach over to intertwine your left hand with his. 

“See?” Your gorgeous smile makes him whimper, metallic bands clinking! together. And Higuruma has to take one look. Two, not quite believing his hazy vision. “We’re a-already married.”

Oh.

Oh.

Higuruma can’t stop the way that’s enough to make him cum - just hearing those pretty words from your very lips. And he thinks it’s the hardest orgasm of his entire life, your own hitting you tenfold. 

“My wife. My wife.” He grunts at the clingy grip of your rubbery walls, so fucking tight that he has to latch onto your waist and put a foot on top of your head to fuck you through each of your highs. Blissfully. “M’f-fucking my wife. My wife.”

And now that he’s started, he can’t stop.

You’re being so cutely vocal through every white-hot flare of bliss, the bolts of it zipping through your body at the same break-neck speed that Higuruma was pounding into you. Hot, buttery waves of cum being swashed around you. 

“Ohhh, how- how did I ever get so ngh- lucky.” Sappier than the copious amounts of saccharine seed pouring out of you, it painted his tufts of black in a drenching lamination. Like a medal of honor that your husband was wearing proudly.

Even after your orgasm was bating into a few lecherous tingles, and your vision was back to refocusing. Your body still twitching with the remnants of that overwhelming high. 

He was relentless. 

“Sugar…” Higuruma breathes into the dazed silence, and the warbling tremor in his tone makes you follow his gaze – brows rising as it catches on his phone near the edge of the bed. His glaring phone. 

With the call still ongoing. 

“Shit.”

A/N. MWAHAHA Higuruma’s ending made me giggle.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[tojisbbg]

gang baby

❝she told you she celibate, but she told me i can nail her shit!❞

♡ sylus, caleb, rafayel, zayne, xavier ♡

sypnosis: you're just a girl. yeah, you can't decide between five hot LI's presented to you in the popular otome game, love and deepspace, but that's okay. who said you can't have them all? literally.

wc: 11k (lots of smut beware)

a/n: valentines day special!! guys, don't question it, ok? i wrote this with my whole pussy. ok bai. (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)

reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated <3

content: all lads LI's x fem!reader (yes, you read right), gangbang, slight plot, reader gets transported in lads universe, smut (no details, find out hehe), all acts are consensual, not edited. disclaimer: not based off tomorrow's catch-22!!

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

"fuck!" you yelled out in frustration, chucking your phone off your bed as the poor device fell on the floor with a loud thud. you could hear your best friend giggling from your laptop, making you shoot her a sharp glare.

"shut up." you sneer, but it only fueled her laughter more.

"damn, infold really hates you, bro." she pokes further at your miserable failure, making your shoulders slump in defeat as you grumble.

"i can't believe it. i've been grinding for two months straight to save up fifteen thousand diamonds for the valentines day banner! i was sure i'd pull them all, and you're telling me i only got two out of the five?? this is a fucking joke." you ranted, making your friend hum as she understood your anger.

"yeah, i'd be mad as hell too. but hey, at least you got sylus and caleb. just watch the rest on twitter or something." your best friend tried to comfort you, but it only made you pout.

"but i want them all." you sulked, making her roll her eyes.

"you're such a whore." she sighed, making you grin.

"duh, why choose one when i can have them all." you nonchalantly responded.

"yeah, yeah, forgot you had no shame." she shook her head in disbelief.

"man, i don't know what else to do. i literally milked the game dry, there's no other way i can get more diamonds for more pulls before the event ends. this is so unfair." you whined, fingers tangled in your hair.

"you can always-"

"no. i'm not giving those greedy hoes my money." you cut off her suggestion, your tone stern.

you were a poor college student who worked part-time at a stationery supply store (living the aesthetic life while crying over classes and fictional men); money's tight, and you're not about to spend hundreds on this because you know it'd become a horrible habit sooner or later.

despite being broke, your spending habits were outrageous.

"yeah girl, then i don't know what to tell ya. i'm chilling with my rafayel card. oh shit, it's almost three in the morning, bitch. we have class tomorrow, go to sleep." she yawned tiredly.

"you're leaving me just like that? after i went through so much pain and trauma? is this how deep our ten years of friendship runs? just say you hate me and want me to die a slow painful death." you dramatically rambled, making your best friend rub her temple in faux annoyance as she groaned at your stupidity.

"when i see you tomorrow, i'm gonna slap you. goodnight, hoe." with that, she hung up.

you closed the lid of your laptop and placed it on charge, stretching before standing up to go pick up your phone. you noticed the small cracks on your screen as you walked back to your bed.

you unlocked your phone, noticing how the lads server kicked you out. you exited the app, clicking on it again as you were met with caleb's face.

so l-long for longe-ge-... before fa-fa...dust

so long for-for-.... fading-fa..-dus..

so-so...lo...ng-..fading...

your eyebrows furrowed as you watched the app glitch horribly, the audio was choppy and produced crackling noises. the graphics were disoriented and there was a pop-up notification saying you needed to upgrade your memory.

you could feel your irritation rise once again, getting tired of this shit as you decided to deal with it tomorrow or something. however, every time you tried to exit the app, it wouldn't let you.

your phone literally froze.

"great. just fucking great." you sarcastically murmured.

not only did you not get the limited cards you wanted, you were broke (in the real world and in lads), you're screwed for your morning classes and your phone is currently on its last breath.

also, you were hungry as fuck right now, craving for some five guys.

"fuck this." you sighed in defeat, settling your phone next to you before laying down to sleep. you figured that eventually your phone would turn off once the battery died, so until then you just turned to the other side and ignored the device.

soon enough, fatigue took over your body as you were slipping away into a deep slumber.

unaware, your phone screen turned off momentarily, before flickering on once again as the screen crackled and glitched before stopping.

data retrieval complete, memory upgrade...

successful.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

you stirred in your sleep, eyebrows pinched together as you felt a cold breeze run across the bare skin of your thighs and arms.

nonetheless, you don't remember leaving your window open, it was the middle of february. you groaned, eyes still shut tight as your hand reached down, trying to locate your blanket.

"comfortable, sweetie?" you heard an oddly familiar, deep voice suddenly speak.

did someone break into your house? and why the hell did your mattress feel so hard and cold?

your eyes shot open, adjusting your blurry vision as you realized you were not in your bedroom. you were laying on the cold, dirt ground and it made you panic.

you helplessly sat up and noticed the long pair of legs in front of your body, making you look up as you saw the towering figure of a man. the night sky was dark, making it hard for you to make out his face.

"who are you? and what the hell am i doing out here?" you asked, but your voice barely came out as a whisper.

a deep chuckle rumbled from his chest, before he bent down to come eye-level with you. as soon as you met the bright, ruby red orbs of his foxy eyes; your jaw dropped in horror.

no. fucking. way.

"shouldn't i be the one asking you those questions, sweetie?" sylus smirked, head tilting as he keenly watched your facial expressions.

"you're not real. i'm dreaming, yeah, just a dream that feels too real." you blurt out, a breathy laugh scratching your dry throat, trying to calm yourself from freaking out as your heart leaped to your chest when he directly looked at you.

"a dream, you say? hmph, you're a strange one." he shook his head before grabbing your wrist, bringing your palm to his lips. the warmth of his rough hands, which were definitely double the size of yours, made you shiver due to the contrast of your cold ones. he bit the side of your palm before gently sucking on it, making you jolt from the sudden sensation.

sylus watched you with pure amusement glinting in his eyes.

"you're like a scared little kitten, so expressive." sylus commented, making you swallow harshly.

well, this definitely was not a dream, thanks to sylus's help for that confirmation.

but the question was.... how the hell did you end up here?

suddenly, there was rustling in the distance, making his eyes twitch as he became alert. sylus slightly shifted closer to you, now scanning the area for the intruder.

"miss bodyguard?" with a dramatic gasp, you heard rushed footsteps approach you. it was hard to miss the hues of indigo, pinks and blues in his eyes along with the striking dusky purple hair that was a little more visible thanks to the moonlight.

"r...rafayel?" it felt odd saying his name out loud, it almost made you feel a little schizophrenic.

just a bit.

"duh, who else would it be? what are you doing here in the N-109 zone at this hour. also, the hell are you wearing? so not creative or fashionable." rafayel questioned, of course, not forgetting to throw in his snarky little insults along with it.

"what's wrong with what i'm wearing?" you glared at him.

"it's the middle of february and you're dressed like it's a hundred degrees outside." the lemurian smirked down at you.

you cursed at yourself for going to bed in shorts and a thin shirt. well, to be fair, it's a cute snoopy set. also, who in the hell could've predicted this to happen!?

"she wanted to have a little sleepover with the wanderers that lurk around here." the dragon teased, making your face heat up.

"i did not." you mumbled under your breath.

"uh-huh, you're not really in the position to defend that claim." rafayel egged further.

"whatever, what are you doing here? you usually don't go out of your way to come to the N-109 zone." you tried to change the subject, remembering from his anecdotes that he usually has third party people as his "networks" to gain intel.

"just some business you shouldn't sweat your pretty little head over, cutie. but, you know, we should really talk about what your business is with the leader of onychinus." he cocked an eyebrow, his eyes flickering between you and sylus.

"it's nothing, uh, i don't even know him." you chuckled nervously, making sylus look at you with a sharp look.

"is that so, kitten? you wound me. and here i thought we had something more than just... acquaintances. i guess those nights of naughty touches, kisses and naked glances mean nothing to you, right?" sylus shamelessly bullet-pointed, his tone dropping an octave lower as your cheeks grew warm.

on the other hand, rafayel's eyes widened at the revelation.

"you fucked the leader of onychinus?! woah, woah, woah, pause. what about everything that happened between us?? we had sex in my bathtub, the hotel and don't forget-" he was flabbergasted, only to be cut off by sylus.

"you were messing around with this half-baked fish, sweetie? i'm disappointed in your taste. if you planned on two-timing, you could've selected a better opponent for me. this is just... offensive." he snarked, his red eyes beaming with irritation as he looked at rafayel, who's face grew dark from his brash words.

"what did you say to me, you fucking crow? half-baked fish? i'm the god of tides, a majestic lemurian. you dare to speak to me like that?" rafayel's voice became husky, languid footsteps towards the other man.

"h-hey, hey, let's all calm down. there's a very logical and reasonable explanation, i swear." you tried to mediate between them, but it didn't seem like they planned on giving a flying shit about what you had to say any time soon.

"y/n? there you are. i've been blowin' up your phone for hours. thought a wanderer got to you and i got worried about how i'd pay the rent by myself." xavier walked from the shadows, his words laced with a gentle joke as he approached you and the other two men.

holy fuck, this was not good.

"and who are you guys?" the ash-blonde male asked, eyes narrowing before looking down at you.

"xavier." you meeked, not even knowing what to say anymore.

"why are you seeing other guys, y/n? am i not enough? you know i don't like it when you hide things from me. i thought you learned your lesson after i punished you for choosing lumiere over me." xavier now towered over you, his voice laced with envy as you gulped.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

"xavier, i promise i can explain. this is all just a-" you tried to somehow pull an excuse out of your ass, but your brain was fogging up.

"pipsqueak?"

"y/n? what an odd place to be at during such an odd hour, you left your patient copy in my office."

two other figures emerged from the sides, making your eyes close in disbelief, wishing that you could somehow disappear from the face of earth right now.

why the fuck are they all here.

at the same time.

"you've got to be kidding me." you covered your face with the palm of your hands.

"caleb? i thought you were dead." zayne spoke in a monotone, glancing at his childhood friend.

"wow, i missed you too, zayne." caleb rolled his eyes, sarcasm dripping from his words. however, the small spark of tension barely lasted before caleb looked back at you.

"care to explain why you're in such a dangerous zone at this time? you know you can't hide from me, pipsqueak. what connections do you have here? who are you seeing? was locking you up in the attic not enough for you?" caleb lectured, his voice gruff before zayne decided to add on to the fire.

"you're utterly reckless, your heart condition isn't getting any better." zayned pushed the frame of his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

all five on them now circled you, bickering and arguing with each other along with bombarding you with questions. you balled your fists in annoyance and frustration.

"shut up! oh my fucking god, i don't know, okay?! i don't know how i ended up here, so stop asking me. fuckin' hell, i can't even get a moment to breathe or think because all of you little shits won't shut up for a second!" you snapped as you stood up, making all of them look at you with surprised eyes.

you gulped, feeling a little cornered as you have five insanely tall, broad and buff men look down at you; like helpless prey.

caleb was the first person to break the momentary silence, grabbing your arm to pull you towards him.

"let's go home, pipsqueak. i'll cook your favorite tonight since it's valentines day." he smiled, only for your other arm to be tugged backwards as you yelped.

"home? her home is with me, we're roommates. i think you got the wrong person." xavier calmly replied, but his words were laced with venom.

"she's going nowhere with either of you. she's my bodyguard and i need her to come back with me to my studio. y'know, in case some scary wanderers are lurkin' around." rafayel pushed xavier to the side, intertwining his fingers with yours before giving you a charming smile as he attempted to walk off; only to bump into someone.

"i don't think so. she's been out here for so long, i might need to give her an exam to make sure she's okay." zayne cleared his throat, pinching the bridge of his nose.

you felt like you were the rope being tugged in tug-of-war. sylus deeply sighed at the situation and before you knew it; in one smooth swoop you were now in the strong arms of the leader of onychinus.

"what fools. she's in the N-109 zone for a reason. for me, of course. come on, sweetie, you must be freezing. let's go inside." sylus look down at you with a gentle smile playing on his lips.

you groaned, squirming out of his hold as sylus let you, watching you get back on your feet.

"this is ridiculous! you all are acting like a bunch of kids, fighting over me like i'm some kind of toy. none of you own me!" you stood your ground.

"fine, then why don't you choose?" sylus scoffed, crossing his arms. you grew quiet, looking at each of them before averting your gaze to the ground.

"i... i can't." you whispered.

"you can't? or you don't want to?" xavier snickered.

"you're the one who's been toying with us. we deserve an explanation, no?" rafayel grinned.

"explanations are too time-consuming, actions speak louder than words. so, how are you gonna fix it, y/n?" hazel eyes peered at you with intensity through the glass lenses.

oh, you're so fucked.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

everything happened so fast, you didn't know who swiped your panties off or unclasped your bra.

you felt betrayed at how they evilly plotted against you, telepathically agreeing to punish you for your unfaithfulness. what happened to hating each other? so, here you were now, splayed on the soft mattress in sylus's room; like art on a display.

they drank in the sight of you, perky tits spilled out as the smooth glaze of your skin glimmered under the dim lighting of the room. their eyes were full of hunger, eye-fucking you as you grew shy under their intense gazes.

"s-stop staring at me like that." you whined, looking away as your face reddened at the attention.

you felt someone stroking your thighs, making you shudder as you looked in front of you, seeing caleb gripping the supple fat of your plush thighs.

"never knew you were such a dirty little slut, princess. all these years of knowing you... and to think you were capable of this? how naughty." caleb smirked, prying your thighs open as you gasped.

but, your lips would soon be sealed with zaynes as he kissed you roughly. his pillow-soft lips molded with yours, the smacking sound of saliva filled the room. a big, veiny hand came up to cup your cheek gently as he slid his tongue inside your mouth, licking the wet muscle before sucking it.

caleb used his thumb to spread your soaked folds apart, watching the lewd string of your arousal connect them both. your clit was puffy from being neglected, a sheen of wetness covering your cunt; making his mouth salivate. he leaned down, mouth hovering above your pussy.

"fuckin' beautiful." caleb swore under his breath, the warm air fanning above your aching cunt, giving you goosebumps. you moaned into zayne's mouth, feeling caleb's warm and wet tongue lick a fat stripe up your cunt.

"hope you didn't forget about us, cutie." rafayel pouted, licking at your nipple before wrapping his lips on the swollen pebble. sylus soon followed his footsteps, greedily kneading at your other tit before leaning down and pressing open-mouthed kisses on the soft mound.

meanwhile, xavier's lips were buried in your neck as he punished you with licks and bites on the expanse of your unmarked flesh.

"ngh~ xavier!" you whimpered against zayne's lips, the doctor now nibbling on your bottom lip.

he licked the side of your neck before softly clamping his teeth down, suckling and leaving a purplish bruise. as a soothing apology, xavier kitten-licked the fresh mark before moving down to your collarbone with wet kisses.

caleb continued to lap at your wet cunt, his saliva mixed with your juices dripped down his chin. the tip of his tongue circled your clit before suckling on it, making your legs tremble as a moan ripped out of your throat as you tried to close your legs.

"f-fuck.. hnghh.." you cried out, feeling him plant his palms on your inner thighs, forcing you to keep them open. caleb peered up at you from between your thighs, amethyst eyes glaring at you as his lips were glossy.

"don't interrupt me when i'm eating." he huskily spoke before slapping your dripping pussy, producing a wet 'pap!' noise. you yelped because of your increased sensitivity, not having enough time to recover before he dove back in.

with one last wet smooch, zayne released your lips before crawling down right next to his childhood friend. they exchanged a quick look, a mischievous smirk dancing on the colonel's lips.

"oh? was my tongue not enough for you, princess?" he lowly spoke, pinching your inner thigh as you bit your bottom lips.

"ahh... need z-zayne to help... please?" you begged, making him scoff. zayne couldn't help but grin with pride, your words stroking his ego a little.

"you heard her, move." zayne pushed caleb a little to squeeze himself between your legs, taking off his glasses before throwing them to the side. caleb, utterly betrayed, seethed with jealousy.

"so that's how you wanna play? fine." caleb accepted it as a challenge, but of course, he won't let neither of you get the last word.

zayne ignored his little childish outburst, digging in as his scarred hands rested on your lower stomach before his fingers stroked the expanse of it, gently moving to the side to hold your hips; caressing your smooth skin while tracing the faint stretch marks decorating it.

your puffy clit peaked out of your wet slit, making zayne lean down to press a wet smooch on it. you shuddered, mouth gaping open as your breathing quickened. zayne dragged his tongue up your sopping folds slow and languidly, the tip of his tongue digging into your wet pussy. the difference in how zayne and caleb ate you out was clear. caleb liked to eat your honeyed cunt like a starved dog, as if it was his last meal; unlike zayne, who liked to take his time and savor the taste of your sweet cunt.

"mhmmm.... zaynee~" you slurred his name, drunk in pleasure as he took his time to lap at your pussy, suckling and nibbling on your clit. amethyst eyes bore into the back of zayne's head, fuming with anger and envy.

caleb's fingers dug into your thighs, making you wince in pain but soon it deliciously simmered into the pleasure you were getting from zayne's tongue. the colonel snickered, watching how slick your pussy was from saliva and your juices, deciding to toy with you as revenge.

you felt the pads of caleb's middle and ring finger brush against your hole, probing the tight opening. you groan, feeling him push in both fingers at once.

"c-caleb!" you stuttered out, feeling him scissor his fingers in and out of your tight hole; the thickness and length of his digits rubbing you in all the right places.

suddenly, xavier roughly grabbed your jaw, squishing your chubby cheeks in his hands; forcing you to look at him. the expression on his face was dark, eyes clouded with lust and possessiveness.

"you seem to be enjoying yourself, dirty girl. you like having four other guys touch you, hm? this mouth is fucking filthy, maybe i should clean it, yeah?" he smirked, blue eyes sharply peering down at you.

"x-xav.." you were cut off by his grip tightening just a little more, making you wince.

"shhh... not another word, my dumb little girl. now i just wanna hear you gagging on my cock, 'kay?" xavier unbuckled his belt before unzipping his pants. he pulled the waistband of his boxers down, making his hard cock spring against his abs, your eyes widening at the sight.

his dick didn't have a lot of girth, but fuck it was long. xavier tapped the blush pink tip of his leaky cock on your lips, spreading his precum all over them like it was your own personal gloss. his thumb rested on your chin before pulling it down, forcing your mouth to open as he slid his cock in; the ash-blonde male let out a shaky sigh.

both sylus and rafayel continued to paw at your tits, biting and sucking on your nipples. with a lewd 'pop!', they released your swollen bud, eyeing their shared masterpiece as your tits were littered with hickies and trails of saliva.

"why don't you return the favor, sweetie? these cute little hands of yours seem empty." sylus gives you a toothy grin, bringing your hand to the tent forming on his pants, making you palm him through them. a deep groan escaped his lips as your hand stroked him through the rough fabric of his leather pants.

rafayel now sat on his knees by your other side, grabbing your wrist before bringing it up to his lips. he kissed the soft, warm flesh of your wrist; inhaling the scent of your skin as he let out a moan.

"you smell so fucking good. god, it's driving me insane." he breathed out, licking your pulse point before gently biting down on it. rafayel continued to sniff and kiss your wrist, using his other free hand to undo his pants and pull his aching cock out; stroking it as it throbbed in his palms. he teased his slit, spreading the sticky precum all over the tip.

your eager hands fumbled with sylus's belt as you tried to undo it, a little difficult because your mouth was still full of xavier's cock and forced you to maintain eye contact with him; as if looking at anyone else in this room would make his existence perish. but, sylus decided to be kind enough and help you because who is he to deny you?

you dug your hand inside his boxers, eyes widening as you realized that you couldn't even fully grasp his dick. he was fucking hung, thick and long, not lacking in any area. a guttural moan escaped his lips, feeling your soft fingers caressing his balls.

you took out his cock from the confinement of his boxers, stroking the shaft of it as your fingers teased the throbbing vein that ran on the underside curve of his dick. sylus threw his head back in pleasure, a soft whimper heard as his chest heaved.

"feels so fuckin' good, sweetie." he praised, your hand still lazily moving up and down his thick meat.

you felt the tip of zayne's nose nudging your clit, providing more stimulation as he continued his assault on your sopping wet cunt; his tongue flicking at a leisurely pace between your folds. caleb matched the rhythm of zayne's tongue, finger-fucking you with deep and hard strokes.

your moans were muffled by xavier's cock as he drove his hips into your mouth; your cheeks hollowing as you tried to not graze the skin of his dick with your teeth. you could hear the soft grunts and whimpers falling from his lips, eyes closed in bliss as he still had your cheeks firmly squished between his fingers.

"fuck yeah... you were made for this, takin' my cock so well." xavier breathed out, slender fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled your head closer.

you could feel the pressure of zaynes tongue slurping your clit along with caleb's fingers abusing your cervix collide. the familiar knot began to settle in your lower stomach, making your thighs tremble as your eyes screwed shut, toes curling in pleasure.

caleb could feel your walls contracting, you were definitely close and as much as he would love to see you cream all over his fingers; you've been cruelly unfair to him.

xavier lazily opened his eyes, cerulean orbs looking down at you half-lidded. he scoffed, watching your face flush as saliva trickled down the corner of your mouth. you opened your eyes briefly, he watched as they rolled back from the pleasure you were recieving from your childhood friends.

he pulled his cock out of your mouth, glaring down at you.

"nghhh~ p-please..!" you mumbled against his tip, crying out in pleasure as you tried to kick your leg forward to get away from the two men ravaging your pussy. however, both caleb and zayne pinned your legs down.

"focus on me." xavier scowled, and in one swift and hard thrust, his cock slid down your throat as far as you could take him. your eyes blew wide open, as you gagged on his dick. he was being nice earlier, but now you really pissed him off.

you had the nerve to think about those two when he was being kind enough to rinse that dirty mouth of yours with his cock?

"fuckin' ungrateful brat, ignoring me when i'm stuffing this filthy mouth full of my dick." he panted, fucking your face as tears streamed down your face and drool dripped down your chin.

zayne and caleb continued their combined attack, making you scream as your felt zayne sucking on your clit harder while caleb's fingers continued to rub against your walls at a faster pace.

suddenly, all sensation was lost as caleb pulled out his fingers while simultaneously grabbing onto the back of zayne's head with his free hand; yanking his hair back to unlatch his mouth from your weeping cunt. your eyes widened as tears streamed down your face, your hole pulsating at the feeling of nothing.

"only good girls get to cum." caleb darkly chuckled, zayne wincing in slight pain as he swatted the hand that yanked his hair.

"do that again and i'll fucking kill you." zayne murmured, making caleb roll his eyes.

"mmphh...!" your cries were muffled as xavier continued to use your throat as his personal fuckhole. he continued to shove his dick deeper, a small bulge forming on your throat as he pressed against it.

"there we go." xavier grinned sadistically, continuing to chase his high.

"h-hahhh... fuck, gonna cum." he panted, face flushing as he threw his head back, driving his hips forward. you could feel his cock twitch in your mouth, before he grabbed the back of your head and pulled you towards his lower stomach; shoving his cock deep in your throat one last time as your nose was buried in his soft pubes.

"shit.. shit- hnghh... take it- fuck, take it all." xavier moaned, his thick cum painting your throat as he came so much. your mouth became overloaded with his cum, leaking through the corner of your lips as you tried to swallow as much as you could. he pulled out, watching your gasp for air as you coughed.

"what do you say, slut?" he darkly asked.

"t-thank you." you breathed out, voice croaking.

"good girl." xavier smiled wickedly, stroking your bottom lip with his thumb, your tongue peeking out to lick it.

with the intense throat-fucking session with xavier and the cruel denial of your orgasm, you forgot about sylus who was still painfully hard in your hand.

"come on, sweetie, i know you could do better. want some help? yes, no, maybe so?" sylus whispered huskily, leaning down to bite your ear before kissing your temple.

"s-sorry.." you sniffled, still extremely sensitive.

"poor baby, don't cry. i'll help you." he cooed, grabbing your hand before spitting on it. the warm feeling of his spit made you shiver, he brought your hand to his cock; guiding you as you used your spit coated hand to grab his dick again.

this time, his hand firmly stayed on yours, tightening the grip. the silver haired male moaned, moving your joined hands up and down his throbbing cock; fucking your wet fist.

"hnghh... yeah, f-fuck..." sylus panted, thrusting his hips into the makeshift hole he made using your hand. his foxy eyes narrowed, bright ruby orbs rolling back as he rasped out swears from the absolute pleasure he was feeling.

rafayel hovered above your naked torso, his pretty cock resting on the valley between your tits. he grabbed his dick, giving it a few strokes, whimpering at his own touch before looking down at you.

"you're so beautiful." the lemurian whispered through labored breaths, face flushed as his mixed indigo eyes peeked at you through a half-lidded lust-filled stare.

rafayel swallowed harshly, guiding the tip of his leaky cock to your nipple; circling the hard bud as his precum coated it. your breath hitched, watching him use his hard cock to paint streaks of his precum all over the expanse of your hickey-littered chest.

he then spat on his hand, rubbing his spit all over his dick to lubricate it before settling it between your soft tits. using both of his hands, he squished your tits together to squeeze his warm cock between them. the whimper leaving his mouth was almost embarrassing from how loud and needy it was.

without a second more of hesitation, rafayel began to rut his hips forward, thrusting between your tits. he stroked your nipples before using his thumb and index finger, pinching the swollen buds and rolling them between his fingers.

"ahhh~ rafayel! f-feels good...!" you moaned, watching the blush pink tip of his cock peek through your cleavage every time he motioned his hips forward.

"hnghh... love your tits so much, cutie. so soft... so tasty and cute." he breathes out a small chuckled, eyebrows pinched in pleasure as he continued to thrust his cock between your boobs. his precum coated the valley of your tits, making it easier for him to slide between them.

while he continued his ministrations of using your titties to fuck himself, you focused on making sylus cum. you increased the pace of your hands, feeling his hand tightening the grip on yours, the vein on his cock pulsating as frequent deep whimpers left his lips. your thumb caught his slit, teasing it as he could feel his balls tighten.

"hmm... gonna make me cum, kitten." he groans, continuing to pump his cock using your hand until you felt the warm, thick wads of his cum dribble down your fingers. his hands slightly trembled, chest heaving as he tried to compose himself.

"fuck, that was... so hot." sylus chuckled, releasing your hand as he watched you bring your cum covered fingers to your mouth; licking his release as you hummed in approval.

he could feel himself get instantly hard again from such an erotic sight.

"you're mean, darling." he shook his head, making you grin.

you broke away your gaze from sylus, watching rafayel fall apart as he desperately groped your tits.

"h-hahhh... need y..-your help, cutie! please?" he pathetically begged, swallowing harshly as his hips stuttered. rafayel grabbed your wrist once more, smelling your scent and licking your flesh; groaning at how intoxicated you made him feel. the tip of his tongue traced your fingers before encasing them with his soft lips, sucking and biting on your digits; indigo eyes looking at you with a pleading look.

you smirked, knowing that it'd be easy to tease him. you were basically at all of their mercy, but knowing you still had just a little bit of power against him at least; it made your heart beat in your pussy.

"you poor thing, need my help?" you pouted, faux sympathy written all over your face. the others watched in amusement and rafayel's horny-fucked brain couldn't even have the dignity to feel embarrassed.

"p-please... promise i'll be good, so good." he breathed out and you smiled in satisfaction, sitting up before pushing him back. rafayel now sat on the mattress, hungry eyes watching you sit back on your knees.

you leaned down, squishing his cock between your tits before sliding them up and down. rafayel's eyes screwed shut in pleasure, countless of goans and whimpers slipping out of his tongue; showering you endlessly with praise.

"y-yeah cutie, just like that... nghhh~ gonna make me cum." rafayel shamelessly moaned, mouth gape open as his breathing was uneven. you stuck your tongue out, lapping at his tip before wrapping your lips around it; suckling on it as if it was a lollipop.

you rubbed your tits together on his shaft, using your mouth to suck the rest. your drool trickled down from his swollen tip to the squishy tight slit created by your tits; making his cock slide with ease. the sounds produced was obscene, shlick shlick shlick. rafayel could feel his body tremble in pleasure, stroking your hair as his balls twitched.

"gonna cum! h-hahhh... p-please, cutie!" his lips were swollen from how much he bit them. soon enough, his hot cum was painting your tits, dripping down your nipples as his cock throbbed.

"fuck.." rafayel sighed, stroking your cheek as he glanced at what he did.

mentally clicking a picture to remember for the rest of his life when he fucks his fist to the thought of you.

"better?" you innocently batted your eyelashes, looking up at him with a dazed expression.

"you little minx." his breath hitched as you turned your face to the side, catching his thumb between your lips to give it a small suck before biting it playfully.

"you seem to be enjoying yourself a little too much, brat." you heard a daring voice break the moment, looking up to see a mean caleb glowering down at you.

you swallowed harshly, looking at rafayel for some help, but the cheeky lemurian only grinned at you; eyes twinkling with trouble as he moved away.

"you like being used like this, don't you? have you forgotten who's in control here?" now, xavier came into view as he scoffed, taking in your pitiful state.

"i think it's time that you learn your place." caleb suddenly pushed you towards the ash-blonde haired male, making you gasp as you were now sitting on his waist; hands pressed against his bare chest. you could feel the curve of xavier's hard cock press against your ass, making you unknowingly grind against the throbbing length of it to seek for some friction.

"tch, look at you. you're like a fuckin' bitch in heat." xavier snickers, holding down your hips with a bruising grip, making you wince. you felt the tip of his dick slip between your wet folds, his hands maneuvering your hips to help you glide on him. a breathy whimper leaves your lips, feeling his sticky tip caress your achy clit.

you hear the clinking sound of caleb's belt being undone and in what felt like mere seconds; you could feel his warm body heat radiating behind you. his lips grazed your nape, the tip of his nose gliding on your skin. he left wet kisses all over your neck and shoulder, trailing down the deep passage of your spine; making you arch forwards from your increased sensitivity.

xavier on the other hand fondled your tits, pinching and twisting your nipples. his fingers moved down, brushing against your hips. suddenly, you felt his tip prodding your tight hole, making you gulp.

they were all so fucking big and thick, you were wondering how you'd take them all. god, you couldn't even use process of elimination to figure out who'd be less painful to take in.

however, all that thinking flew straight out of your ears as xavier planted his feet on the mattress; harshly thrusting upwards into you. a croaky moan ripped out of your throat, your head lolling back to caleb's chest as you breathed heavy.

although xavier wasn't that thick, he was long as fuck; he couldn't even bottom out fully inside your cunt. you could feel his tip kissing your cervix. while caleb continued to place bite marks and lick at his work, xavier paid no mind to his counterpart; fucking you at a brutal pace.

"hnghh~ a-aahh... xav! w-wait!" you tried to slow him down, but that only made him go faster. he grabbed your hands which were resting on his lower stomach, pulling you forwards as you fell on his chest; away from caleb's touch.

the colonel scowled at the loss of your skin, glaring at the ash-blonde male in front of him. xavier didn't care, his hand finding purchase to the supple fatty flesh on your ass, spanking you hard as you yelped in pain and pleasure. your eyes squeezed shut, trying to form coherent words.

"you know i hate it when you don't look at me while i'm fucking you. open your eyes, y/n." he tapped your face, forcing you to look down at him. you bit your lips, trying to prevent another moan from flying out of your mouth, feeling xavier's cock rub your wet velvety walls just right.

his tip continued to bruise your cervix, his thrusts were deep and hard as he made sure you felt every inch of him in you. a ring of cream began to form at the base of his shaft, your juices dripping down to coat his heavy balls as you felt your thighs burning.

"hope you didn't forget about me, princess." caleb whispered, hovering behind you as you felt him grope your ass cheek. your eyes widened as you felt him spread them, his index finger gently grazing your other untouched tight hole.

"nghh.. wait, caleb! h-hahhh, never did it there before." you confessed, making him chuckle.

"well then, i'm glad to be your first here. don't worry, i'll make sure you're ready for me." caleb's words did seem genuine but rather because of the fact that he was about to touch you and feel you somewhere no one ever has.

you nodded at his words, too fucked out to even care about anything else. you were more focused on cumming, your cunt puffy and weeping from being neglected the last time your orgasm was denied; thanks to caleb.

so, you definitely didn't wanna get on his bad side again.

caleb spat on his fingers, bring it down to your ass before spreading the sticky spit on your hole. you soon felt his wet digit push through the tight ring of muscle, making you wince in pain as you breathed heavily.

"f-fuck... hurts.." you whined, but it would soon dissipate as xavier continued to drill into your pussy, distracting you from the pain of having caleb's finger in your ass.

it took some time but eventually the colonel was able to finger-fuck your ass with two of his fingers, meanwhile, xavier thrusted up into your leaky pussy that sheathed his throbbing cock. the ash-blonde haired male rubbed your clit to provide some more stimulation, your body trembling once you felt caleb withdrawing his fingers from inside you.

caleb sat on his knees, spreading your ass once more before leaning in, the tip of his tongue dragging from where you and xavier were connected; all the way up to your ass hole.

"ah! caleb!" you cried out, feeling him land a glob of spit on the tight hole before pulling away. caleb grabbed the base of his cock, his tip was a reddish-purple; angrily weeping precum as he stroked himself a few times. you could hear him groan behind you before feeling his wet tip squish against your hole.

"c'mere." caleb commanded, a hand coming down to gently grab your jaw, pulling you back to him. he tilts your head up, making you look into his eyes; leaning down to press his lips on yours in a searing kiss.

that's when you felt the burning stretch of his fat tip pushing past the tight ring of muscle in your ass, a pained cry leaving your lips, only to be muffled as he swallowed it; not letting go of your lips. tears pricked your eyes, feeling him slowly feed his cock into your tight ass, inch by inch.

the kiss with caleb was rough and messy, full of tongue and spit. the wet smacking sound of his lips clashing with yours as he drinks in your moans was so erotic. as his cock was now thrusted deep in your ass, he was kind enough to let you adjust to his size. his hand still firmly grabbing your jaw in place to not break away from the kiss while the other played with your tits.

meanwhile, xavier continued to give you nice slow and soft thrusts in your cunt, paying close attention to stimulate your clit. you were so full of both of their cocks, your mind was blank.

all you thought of was dick, dick, dick.

it was embarrassing and greedy, how full they made you feel, how good the burn felt as they both stretched out your holes.

it was definitely a pornographic sight.

as you grew used to having both of them inside you, caleb was the first to quicken his pace, pistoning his hips into you as his cock began to rub your walls. following in suit, xavier tried to match his rhythm, fucking your cunt with more rigor. your mouth gaped wide open, unable to respond to caleb's kiss anymore as you were too cock drunk.

"a-a..ahh! nghh~ feels so good!" you cried out in pleasure, feeling them both rub against the thin barrier that separated the two. you could feel your lower stomach churn in pleasure, your eyes rolling back as you began to drool from the corner of your mouth.

"what a dumb little slut, fucked your brains out already?" you heard xavier darkly chuckle, pinching your clit as you yelped at the sudden sharp sensation.

"p-please... wanna cum so bad! x..-xav.." your throat was parched as you tried to control your breathing, your lower stomach tightening as you could feel the familiar build-up of your orgasm.

"tch, you're moaning his name when i'm stuffing you full of my dick? where are your manners, pipsqueak?" caleb's tone was gravely, glaring at you with a look that could only make your knees grow weak, his grip on your jaw tightening just a little to remind you he was still here; balls deep in you.

"s-sor.. hgnhh.. sorry! please, c..caleb.." you stammered out, feeling the alternating push and withdraw of their cocks syncing together; turning your brain into mush.

displeased with your switch up, xavier yanked you forwards by your arm, squishing your cheeks together.

"you deceitful vixen, running to him when you don't get what you want? i'm the one taking care of this slutty pussy and you have the nerve to beg him? the fuck is wrong with you." xavier seethed with anger, his hips bucking into yours with more intensity; making you wail out in pleasure.

"i'm sor-" you tried to helplessy apologize again, only to be pulled back by caleb; the start of a tug-of-war as if you were a toy.

"don't fucking apologize to him, princess. you're mine, so when i say that you can cum, then you cum." caleb whispered, making you shiver as you sniffled out a cry.

"please.. fuck, please- i can't! t..too much.." you whimpered, making them both scoff.

"you can take it." both caleb and xavier sneered, making you whine.

"ungrateful brat, wanting us both and now you're saying it's too much?" xavier slapped your clit, making you jolt. you felt caleb bite down on your shoulder, the cold metal of his dog tag pressed against your warm, flushed skin.

you felt them twitch inside you, throbbing thick cocks rubbing against your insides. caleb and xavier continued to slide in and out of you, making your body grow hot.

"fuck, fuck, please! s-so close..!" you breathed out, feeling xavier's thrusts grow sloppy as with one final hard thrust; he emptied his balls inside you. his thick, warm cum filled your cunt as you quivered, his hips still rolling back in you.

your head was spinning, both of their scents were intoxicating. their hands were groping, slapping and stroking every bit of skin exposed to their lustful eyes. both caleb and xavier's thrusts held no mercy, battering your cunt and ass as your thighs felt like jelly. you squealed, feeling your walls tightening as you desperately squirmed, trying to lift yourself off and escape.

"where are you going? don't run away, i'm not done yet." caleb yanked you back to him. caleb's grunts and groans got louder by your ear, his arm wrapping around your stomach to hold you down in place; his cock fully in your ass as he shot fat wads of his sticky cum.

before you could process anything, they sadistically exchanged a cruel smirk, pulling out of you as your holes gushed out an obscene amount of their mixed cum.

"n-no! no! hnghh.. w-why.." you sobbed at the loss of contact, the fullness of their cocks gone as your orgasm was destroyed for the second time.

"since we weren't enough, why don't you go ask the others." caleb pushed you to the side, making you collapse on the mattress as tears ran down your cheek.

you looked up and noticed sylus and rafayel looking down at you, an unwavering glint pinned on your ruined form as they waited for your next move. it was humiliating, how you were begging them to let you cum; but it was too much.

you were going insane, needing some relief.

you weakly crawled to sylus and rafayel, sniffling as your body began to shake. your thighs were dripping with xavier and caleb's cum, your messy holes pulsing and aching.

"sy.. raf.. please, make me cum. i-i... i promise i'll be a good girl." you desperately pleaded, fat teardrops running down your flushed cheeks; making them both groan as your pathetic state only made their cocks harden.

"poor little kitten, they were so mean to you, weren't they?" sylus cooed as he wiped your tears away, tone honeyed with gentleness but with an undertone of mischief.

you nodded helplessly, leaning into his touch as you nuzzled your cheeks into his palm. you kissed the inside of his hand, licking the warm and rough skin.

just like a kitten.

sylus grinned at your antics, amused at how compliant you were. however, he wasn't that mean; he'd humor you.

"need us to make her feel better, cutie?" rafayel teasingly spoke, long fingers running across your slit as you whimpered; the tip of his digits circling your clit.

"mmphh, y-yes... please.." you bit down on your lip, tasting the metallic taste of blood.

"alright, sweetie. we'll help you." sylus chortled, leaning against the headboard. he grabbed your hips, spinning you around in one fluid motion, your back now facing him. he then lifted you up before placing you on his waist, as if you weighed nothing.

you yelped as sylus hooked his beefy arms under your thighs, pulling them up to your head; putting you in a mean full nelson. the sudden pressure and stretch made your cunt gush out more of the cum that was fucked into you earlier, soaked pussy lips spread apart as you were now exposed and on display in a very vulnerable position.

"s-sylus!" you shyly meeked, making him hum.

"what? don't be selfish, sweetie. you know the fish is an artist, let him see this masterpiece." sylus bit your earlobe.

rafayel settled between sylus's legs, now in front of you as he shamelessly stared at your messy folds. he salivated as it took everything in him to not just lean down and makeout with your tempting cunt.

"stop lookin'." you whined, feeling how intense his gaze was. however, rafayel just gave you a breathy chuckle.

"why not? she's sooooo pretty." he licked his lips, flashing you a boyish grin, making your heart leap into your throat.

the lemurian lowered his head, pressing gentle kisses on your soft stomach, dragging his lips up your navel until he reached your tits. he sighed in bliss, smoothering his face between your boobs as he kissed and licked the mounds of flesh.

his dick rested on top of your pussy, sticky tip parting your folds as he rutted his hips; sliding the length of his cock against your slick covered cunt. his tip repeatedly nudged your clit, rubbing it as you moaned in bliss from the heavenly contact.

your hand found purchase in his dusky, purple hair; carding your fingers through his soft locks. you tugged on his hair, making him moan as the vibration rumbling from his lips were felt on your nipple as he sucked; making you choke out a moan.

the silver haired male kissed your temple, smiling.

"come on, sweetie, need you to hold your legs up for me so i can take care of you." his voice was groggy, releasing your legs before grabbing your hands to help you lift them as you obeyed.

"there you go, good girl." sylus praised, grabbing the base of his cock, swiping it a few times between your messy folds, nudging his tip on your hole. you moaned at the feel of his cock deliciously rubbing against your aching pussy.

"p-please... nghh- no more teasing." you were breathless, feeling rafayel once again capture your nipple in his mouth, suckling as if his purpose in life was to worship your tits.

"if you say so, sweetie." sylus compliantly shoved his inches in you, feeding your greedy hole his hard dick. your jaw dropped, eyes rolling back as his fat girth stretched your cunt; sliding in with ease because of your arousal along with xavier and caleb's shared cum.

rafayel watched your hole eagerly swallow up sylus's cock, gulping at the sight as his dick was painfully hard; globs of precum dripping onto your clit.

"so tight even after all that? how cute." sylus lets out a huff, slowly moving his hips upwards to give you some slow and deep strokes; tip squishing against your cervix.

"h-hnghh... fuck... feels so good, sy." you moaned, turning your head to the side to capture his lips in a sweet kiss. he happily accepted, sucking on your bottom lip before swiping his tongue against it for permission to explore your mouth.

his hands firmly grabbed your hips before planting his feet on the mattress, grounding both himself and you before pounding upwards into your dripping cunt. your mouth flew open from his sudden shift in pace, and he took that chance to shove his tongue in your mouth; exploring every cavern and crevice. both of your tongues mingled and tangled, sucking and licking as drool trickled down your chin.

"fuck, cutie... you look so hot like this; it's tempting. i can't let the crow have all the fun now, can i?" rafayel's fingers stroked your thigh, leaning down to kiss your plush thighs, gently biting the soft skin.

"ahhh... raf.." you whimpered, biting your lip as you feel his tip poke your ass hole. you released one of your legs, pressing your foot on his chest to stop him.

"hm?" the lemurian tilts his head in confusion at your sudden action, stopping his advances.

"n-not there... need you and sy at the same time.." you licked your dry lips, words barely coming out as a whisper. rafayel's eyes widened at your request, sylus's ruby orbs mirroring the same bewilderment.

"naughty girl, you want us both in this sweet cunt of yours? you think you can handle it?" sylus teased, a cocky smirk painted on his lips.

you nodded frantically, your foot running down rafayel's chest as you looked up at him with a cheeky smile; eyes barely open as you gazed at him with a dazed look.

"i can handle it, p-promise." you assured, making rafayel grin.

"well you heard her, crow. make some space." he grabbed the base of his shaft, now aligning his cock with your hole that was already occupied with sylus's thick cock. the silver haired male scoffed, rolling his eyes before momentarily stopping his thrusts; letting rafayel ease into you.

a screamish-moan ripped out of your throat, your walls clamping instinctively on both of their cocks; both men grunting in response as the space became tighter. your eyes swelled with tears, the salty warm fluid streaming down your cheeks as you tried to adjust to the painful stretch of having two giant cocks lodged in your cunt at the same time.

"shh... there, there, pretty girl. it's okay." rafayel tried to console you, his words barely making it to a full sentence before his voice betrayed him; a strangled whimper slipping off his tongue.

"i gotcha, sweetie." sylus mumbled against the skin of your nape, his hand snaking around your waist, fingers finding your clit as he began to rub soothing circles on the bundle of nerves to distract you.

the both of them allowed you to adjust to their cocks, providing additional stimulation to help you relax so that your walls aren't as tense. rafayel's teeth grazed your nipples, teasing and flicking the pebbled buds while sylus's fingers worked their magic to affectionately pinch and stroke your clit.

"nghh~ feels good... hnnghh- need more." you whined, moving your hips on your own accord, wincing as you could feel both of their dicks rubbing against your velvety wet walls.

"ya sure you're ready, cutie? we have all night." rafayel let out a shaky laugh, half-joking.

"moveee." you bucked your hips, making sylus chuckle.

"someone's impatient, not that i mind." with that being said, sylus once again began to slowly thrust into your pussy. he grunted, feeling his cock graze against rafayel's, the sensation feeling a little weird but he ignored that fact.

rafayel moaned at the sudden friction, his hand wrapping around your calf to push it by your head; mirroring your other leg which you still held up obediently. rafayel leaned closer, pressing against you before latching his lips onto your; kissing you senselessly.

you moaned into his mouth, feeling the both of them pistoning into your tight, dripping hole. rafayel hissed as he felt your fingers tug his hair, angling your jaw to deepend the kiss.

the room was full of wet skin slapping followed by the lewd sound of your pussy gushing out your juices; coating their cocks in your arousal as it dribbled down to their balls. rafayel's lips continued to suck and kiss at your swollen and bitten once; his tongue suckling with yours before pulling away as a string of saliva connected you two.

he pushed himself off of you, bringing the leg he held for you towards him. he kissed your ankle, running the tip of his tongue down to your calf before kitten-biting the flesh of it.

"mmphh... you taste so fucking sweet." rafayel swore under his breath, thrusting his cock deeper into your weeping hole. sylus followed in suit, both of their tips bruising your cervix.

"shit... you're taking us both so well, sweetie." sylus praised, now matching the movement of his fingers that were once leisurely rubbing your clit to the pace of his thrusts.

in seconds, everything shifted.

their gazes darkened, clouded with need and hunger. you squealed, feeling both sylus and rafayel thrusting in and out of your cunt with no mercy as their movement didn't falter.

not once.

they were so perfectly synced together, as if they were one.

"a-ahhhh~... f-fuck! please, please, please! so close... god! i'm gonna cum!" you choked on your tears as you sobbed, the pleasure you were feeling was intense.

your eyes rolled back, toes curled as you were gasping for air. both men grunted and moaned; focusing on chasing their high.

"how bad you want it, kitten?" sylus groaned, fucking his hips upward as you whimpered.

"so bad, fuck, need it so bad!" you desperately answered, convinced that you wouldn't survive another ruined orgasm.

"yeah? ask nicely, where are your manners, cutie?" rafayel snickered, driving his hips into your; pelvis meeting yours with brutal thrusts that made your body jerk.

"h-hahhhh... oh my god...- please, please, please. let me cum? i promise i'll be good, so fuckin' good. please raf... sy... need it so bad." you threw out every last ounce of dignity within yourself to beg them with your last bit of voice.

both men, clearly satisfied with your answer, feed your cunt with their cocks using an unforgiving pace of thrusts. rafayel's hips were a bit sloppier, but they were fast and needy, like he was scared that you'd disappear. in contrast, sylus's pace was slow but his thrusts were hard and deep; making sure his tip met your cervix with every movement of his hips.

"fuck, fuck, fuck..." the silver haired male let out a guttural moan, eyes screwed shut as he could feel his cock pulsate; vein twitching as blood flowed with adrenaline.

rafayel shamelessly moaned on top of you, panting like a dog as he continued to fuck his dick into your wet hole.

"open your mouth." he demanded and too fucked out to even decipher his intentions, you obeyed. rafayel spat into your mouth, the thick glob of spit coating your tongue before you swallowed it.

"good girl." rafayel grunted, feeling his balls tightening as he was close to cumming as well.

your stomach knotted, the build-up of your orgasm even more stronger as your gummy walls clamped down on their cocks viciously.

"auughh~ i'm cumming! fuck.. hnghh..." you choked out a moan, eyes screwed shut as hot liquid squirted out of your cunt; coating rafayel's lower abdomen. you creamed on their cocks, body twitching as you feel both of them creampie you; shoving their sticky and gooey cum deep into your womb.

your juices and their cum dripped down your thigh, coating sylus's balls as you could hear his breathing become uneven from the aftermath of such intense pleasure. rafayel collapsed on top of you, still mindful to not crush you with his entire weight.

"so tired..." he childishly whined, biting your nipple playfully as you huffed.

"you're heavy, raf, get off." you grumbled, making him pout as he smoothered his face between your boobs once again.

"nah, you're too soft." he argued, making you roll your eyes.

"i feel sticky and gross.." you mumbled, noticing how the room was a bit more quieter. xavier was passed out on the couch and caleb left the room a few minutes ago for whatever reason; zayne watching the whole scene intently from the edge of the bed.

you locked eyes with him, noticing the slight blush on his face. he cleared his throat, looking away.

"perhaps a hot shower might be nice." he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"yeah, it does sound tempting." you hummed.

"need some help, sweetie?" sylus offered, but his tone had a hint of mischief.

"i got it." zayne suddenly spoke up, walking over to where you were sandwhiched between rafayel and sylus. he pushed the groggy lemurian over, making him groan.

"hey! i was comfy." rafayel complained, making the doctor roll his eyes.

"it's my place, surely i know my bathroom better." sylus snickered, making zayne narrow his eyes.

"if i could perfom hundreds of heart surgeries, i'm sure i can figure out how to work your damn shower." zayne snarked back with an equal amount of bite, making the silver haired male smirk.

"touche, she's all yours, doc." sylus chuckled.

zayne sighed, scooping you up in his arms before heading into the bathroom; locking the door behind him.

"you look... fucked." he blurted out, making you laugh at his dry comment.

"wow, thanks, i didn't know." you playfully rolled your eyes, making him crack a small smile.

"that was... intense. after you shower, i could get you some painkillers to help with any soreness. can you stand?" zayne asked with a flicker of concern in his hazel orbs, settling you on your legs and lightly loosening his grip; only for your knees to wobble as you held onto his bicep for support.

"i guess not." he answered his own question, making you chuckle.

"mind helping me out, doc?" you asked, peering up at him with a girly smile. zayne felt his heart skip a beat, heat creeping up to his neck.

it's not like this would be his first time being intimate with you, but you still made him feel incredibly nervous.

"if you insist, then i don't mind." his tone was soft and gentle. you smiled at his agreement, taking off his glasses. you leaned onto the sink for support, watching him undo his tie before unbuttoning his shirt; revealing his chiseled chest.

fuck, his physique was like a greek god.

he undid his belt, zipping down his pants before kicking them off together with his boxers; his cock springing to life as his pinkish tip was a little swollen while dripping with precum. you leaned forwards, now pressed against him as your bare chest rubbed against his.

zayne groaned at the intimate skinship, his cock rubbing against your soft thighs. your hand reached down, grabbing the shaft as you experimentally gave it a few strokes.

"let me take care of you." your voice was a bare whisper, making him shudder. but, to your surprise, he shook his head.

"no, you don't have to do this for me, i'll get myself off or something. just ignore it, okay?" zayne tried to convince you, but it only made you frown.

"but i want to... i've been wanting to feel you the whole night." you pressed soft kisses along his jawline, making him swallow harshly as you saw his adam's apple bob.

"then let me make it up to you since that bastard pulled me away from you. i'll make you feel good, baby." he lifted your hips, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist as his cock was now nestled between your folds.

he walked inside the shower, pulling the glass doors to close it before turning on the water; adjusting the temperature. you cupped his face, pulling him closer to yours to seal his lips with yours.

zayne moaned into your mouth, molding his lips with yours as he softly kneaded your ass. your tongue poked his bottom lip, seeking for entry which he happily granted. you kissed him with a needy vigor, sucking his tongue as you stroked his wet jet black hair.

pulling away breathlessly, zayne looked down at you with swollen lips. he attacked your neck with kisses, making your whimper as you felt his tongue graze your flesh, softly tracing the hickies left on your skin with the tip of his tongue. he moved down to your tits, sucking your nipples as your hand held the back of his head; pushing him closer as you moaned.

"mhmm... feels so good, zayne." you praised, watching him tug your nipple between his teeth before giving it a deserving suck. he soon lets go of your swollen bud, hazel eyes meeting yours.

"i'll be gentle, okay?" he assured, making your chest feel warm and fuzzy as you nodded; wrapping your arms around his neck.

zayne grabbed the base of his cock, tapping your clit a few times, making you jolt. he smirked at how responsive your body was, aligning his tip with your hole. with a firm grip on your hips, he begin to sink you down on his hard cock, slowly shoving his inches inside you.

your mouth formed an 'o' shape as your eyes shut tight, feeling full as he bottomed out.

"s-so full.." you moaned, feeling him slowly thrust inside of you as the curve of his dick molded so perfectly in your wet walls. you clenched down on him, making him grunt at the sudden tightness.

"you feel so good, babygirl." zayne whispered, pressing a gentle kiss on your cheek and temple before sliding you up and down his dick. you rested your head on his shoulder, inhaling his scent as you kissed his neck.

this felt so new compared to what happened just minutes ago. the others fought over you like you were some piece of meat to claim; but zayne treated you like you were made of glass.

he was so gentle with his touches and strokes, you could almost cry.

zayne's tip nudged your cervix with every push of his hips, now having you pressed against the wall to have a better hold of you so that he can drive his hips into yours faster. your cunt weeped with arousal, gummy walls coated with his precum.

his thrusts were sharp yet slow, making sure it applied the right amount of pressure and friction to make you feel like you were seeing stars. his balls slapped against your ass, your nipple between his lips.

"hnghh.. love your cock, zyane. g-gonna cum.." you let out a shaky breath, clenching down on him as your increased sensitivity betrayed your body, not allowing you to hold onto your orgasm for too long.

"it's okay, baby. you can cum." he grunted against the wet skin of your tits and you didn't realize how intimate and erotic the whole sight was.

a choked out whimper escaped your throat, your cunt clamping down on him as you squirted all over his cock. your body twitched and trembled at your orgasm, panting as you leaned against his chest.

"shit, please... i need you to fill me up." you begged and that's all it took him to bust a fat load of his thick, hot cum inside your hole.

"fuck.." he swore and god it sounded so hot coming from his mouth.

the bathroom was filled with the sounds of uneven breathing and the running showerhead.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

you stirred awake, groaning as you now laid on your back. sunlight beamed into your room, making your eyes burn as you tried to crack one of them.

"fuckin' hell.." you cursed under your breath, adjusting your vision as you sat up on your bed. your head was swirling as you held it in pain, wincing.

it was all a dream.

you slapped yourself, not believing how delusional you became to believe that whatever the hell that was could be reality.

"yeah, i'm losing it." you sighed deeply, scratching your head. you tapped your phone screen, reading the time as your eyes blew wide open.

fuck, it was well past noon, meaning you missed your morning classes already.

"you're kidding me." you huffed out in annoyance, leaning back on the headboard as you unlocked your phone.

you saw the many, many, many missed calls from your best friend; making you snort.

as you swiped through your applications, your eyes fell on the love and deepspace icon. memories of your strange dream replayed fresh in your memory, your body weirdly aching.

you brushed off those thoughts, clicking the icon as you wondered if infold fixed those weird bugs and glitches by now. you were surprised to see the app back into shape, running in good quality as you logged in with ease.

"huh, weird." you mumbled to yourself, calmly collecting your daily’s.

until you realized you had five unread messages.

hey pipsqueak, hope you're not still mad at me for being a bit mean to ya. i'll cook for you when you come back :p

hope you're not missing me too much, sweetie. come back and i'll take you for a joyride.

cutieeee! i miss you already :C come back soon, okay? need my personal pillow back.

if your throat is still sore, come back so we can have hotpot together. it'll be my treat.

have you taken those painkillers like i told you to?

your jaw was wide open, not believing your eyes. these texts seemed way too real to be automated.

"what the fuck." you quickly opened your front camera, only to see the faint purplish marks decorating your neck.

holy shit, all of that was real.

a smirk etched on your face as you quickly tapped the facetime app, ringing the only person you knew could stand this news and have a silver of faith in you to be convinced.

"finally decided to call me back? thought you died in your sleep or something." your best friend nagged at you, making you chuckle.

"you won't believe what happened last night." you giggle, making her roll her eyes at you.

"let me guess, you had a dream about all the lads guys fucking your brains out." she responded with a bored voice.

"even better."

---

a/n: hehe, if you made it to the end, kuddos to you cuz rereading through this was a pain the ass. if you couldn't tell by now, this was very self-indulgent, so i got carried away. hope you guys enjoyed it tho!!

[wainawtmai]

thinking of sukuna and bimbo!reader who people assume are a pair of kinky fucks. They see Sukuna’s aggressive demands and your quickness to follow them and think he’s the meanest dom and you his pretty little sub. His to tie up, spank and berate while you mewl and whimper pathetically for more.

well, the two of you are definitely kinky…

…no one would believe that the huge and terrifying Ryomen Sukuna liked to be toyed with and tied up. With pretty pink ropes that you use to bind his thick muscular thighs to his ankles and his arms to his wrists. They wouldn’t believe the way your pretty doe eyes light up sadistically as you edge him till he growls, promising vengeance.

“you wanna cum, ‘kuna?” You ask sweetly, dragging the sparkly peach acrylic of your nail up his twitching, leaking cock. “if I don’t get a response, I’ll leave you here and you’ll have to find your own way out of these ropes.”

“you wouldn’t fucking dare.” He snarls, red eyes leering at you as best as he could in his position. “I’ve had enough, make me come. Now.”

what a brat, you think, though this is standard for him, his domineering attitude and general sense of authority and entitlement. Despite the fact that he was literally trembling below you with need, cock forming a pool of pre all over his stomach.

“now that’s not nice, ‘kuna,” you pout, nails digging firmly into the hardened length of his cock. Sukuna jolts and grumbles out a curse, come spurting out of his abused cock pathetically. You watch it with a tight smile, as he comes ropes and ropes all over himself all the while grunting and groaning your name.

“aww, you came,” you coo, loosening your grip around him, “without my permission.” Sukuna could still see your smile through his blurry gaze as he came down from his high, that crazy sort of look in your eyes. He’d done it now.

“just from the feeling of my fingers digging into your cock.” You trace the fading crescent imprints of your nails along his veiny length, humming at the sight, “such a slut for pain aren’t you, ‘kuna? Despite how much you pretend you’re not.” Your right hand once again circles his cum-soaked cock, left stuffing fingers into his mouth to silence him as you stroke him through overstimulation. He immediately bites down on your fingers and growls, straining against the ropes binding him as his cock aches deliciously.

“you asked to come, didn’t you?” You say, “I’m letting you come, ‘kuna.” You giggle as he thrashes against you, drooling all over your fingers as he tries and fails to glare at you through the intertwining pain and pleasure ebbing through him. The ropes feel too tight but the chaffing against his skin only makes his cock harder. he wants to stop—no, he needs to come again.

his second orgasm tears through him, his groans soothing out into pathetic muffled moans. But of course you don’t stop, crazy woman. Your hands tighten and squeeze as you continue to stroke him with no remorse. It hurts so good and you fucking know it, know he can’t resist his bottomless need to feel pain.

...

“do you want me to stop, ‘kuna?” Usually his pride would keep his lips sealed shut, but you’ve fucked everything out of him, loosened his sharp mouth. He doesn’t know how many times he’s come at this point. “Be good and ask nicely.”

you take your fingers out of his mouth and he hates the way he misses the fullness, “don’t…” he croaks, “stop.”

“god, you’re a freak.” You giggle, resuming your movements, relishing the slight whimper in his voice as your hand circles his throat, nails dig into his neck, and you force another impossible orgasm out of him.

fuck, sukuna loved hated you.

[nanamiskentos]

NERDS DO IT BETTER ☓. ── ( 呪術廻戦 )

⌗ turns out they're the best you've ever had, and you think you're gonna' have to come back for more!

ᯓ starring ─. jjk ensemble cast : nerd! gojo, nerd! geto, nerd! sukuna, nerd! nanami, nerd! toji, nerd! choso

𝓶𝓾𝓵𝓽𝓲. ㅤ﹑ ( 呪術廻戦 x afab!reader )  ─── ❛ cw ⌓. mdni. college au. risky, public séx. handjóbs. óverstím. hate séx. fíngeríng. fiíming (consénsual). édging. vírgin!kuna. óral (m). missiónary. soft séx. brééding kínk. créampíe. backshóts. óral (f). wc ⌓. 3.5k.

﹙ 五条 悟 : gojo satoru ﹚ ─ advanced mathematics, physics

"oh, fuck!" gojo's absolutely quivering, throwing back a head of tousled, snowy hair, "that's, ouh, that's way better than i ever coulda' even dreamed of." pale-pink lips snapping sharp around another moan as he shudders, "can ya' do it again?"

you're clicking your tongue, doing your very best to bite back a flushed smile yourself. knowing that you've got the smartest, honour roll student pliant beneath you, his thighs splayed out and bare — the skin spottled with patches of rosy pink, dusted with fine white hairs. he's still got that campus sweatshirt on, rumpled over the askew collar of the dress shirt underneath. where you're eager to run your hands, to slide your fingers up past the low trail of hair on gojo's groin.

it doesn't hurt that gojo's, like, ridiculously gorgeous. thick-rimmed glasses foggy over vibrant blue eyes, framed by ridiculously long lashes. and you can see him gnawing at the inside of his cheek as your hand keeps at a steady pace. pumping him over and over, until thick ropes of seed are coating your hand. it must be the nth climax of his by now, but it seems neither of you are that eager to call it a day.

you smile at how gojo squeezes his eyes shut, glasses skipping askew so you can fondly kiss his forehead. titling his glasses right back into place, all while he bites back a low, rumbled groan, "a-another?" it's a plea, almost hopeful for you to milk his poor, throbbing cock until there's not much else it can give.

"mhm, i don't know, satoru. it's kinda' risky, don'tcha think?" you're trying to keep your voice down, knowing that anyone could round the corner here. they could move past the stack of chairs littered behind the physics subsection of books and old papers to find gojo spread out so sluttily over this chair, his pants drifting past his ankles while you lean over behind the desk to jerk him off. workshop questions and calculations long discarded as the most intelligent man on campus chases some form of pent-up relief from you, his angel that's solely heaven sent.

gojo's the type of guy that's always moving, whether he's skimming and flipping through pages of glossy textbooks or speeding over the butterfly keys of his steel-grey mac, and right now?

he's still in motion, tapping trimmed nails in staccato beats against the plastic table. drumming his fingers over and over as he does his best to not let you see the crystalline tears of delicious overstimulation pooling at the corners of his eyes. shuddering as you pull back, letting his big cock snap back, smearing a thin line of translucent cum against his blue sweatshirt.

cursing because he knows he's gonna' have to peel that top off before his next class, before anyone can figure out exactly what that stain is, "fuck, we still got 15 minutes before that lecture, yeah? one more, please, baby, jus' one more."

﹙ 夏油 傑 : geto suguru ﹚ ─ philosophy, sociology

"what did i say? eyes on the lenses, pretty girl." geto's determined and mean when he's like this, but then again, when is he not a cunt?

that bitchy nerd's always sniping at you, doing dumb shit like taking your seat in class and sucking up to the teacher — batting pretty, dark lashes at the tutor while throwing a nasty look your way when you get the answer right.

but as of this moment, there aren't any right answers in your head. not when geto's got you propped up in his broad lap. right in front of a blinking video camera, perched on a shaky tripod as he swirls his digits as deep as he can into your pretty, swollen pussy.

"s-sugu', feels so good," you moan, sinking your teeth into the plush flesh of your lower lip as geto's face softens for a split second before hardening once more. handsome features crinkling as he shakes his head of choppy, raven hair, "didn't ask if it felt good, geez. i asked for the answer to the question, or are we jus' having trouble following instructions as well?"

"hate ya' so, so much, still, i don' even remember the fuckin' question," you're sniffling, knowing that he's so deliciously knuckle deep within you right now. your clear, glossy arousal coating his fingers as he pumps the digits in and out of your heat with a satisfying squelch!

geto smiles, as though he wanted you to say that while he was rolling a fat thumb over your clitoral hood. berry lips pulling at the corners as he tuts, using the hand that was previously holding apart your thighs to slide a pristine paper over his bed, clicking his tongue before he intones, "tch', let me quiz you, again, 'cause we got that test tomorrow. though, 'm not sure it's much good. now, how would you explain structural functionalism?"

your mind's absolutely turning to incredible, pleasurable mush as you struggle to form coherent sentences. instead, staring at the blinking red light blearing out through the dark haze of geto's form room, and swallowing as he begins pulling at the sensitive ache of your clit, "it's, like, the premise of everything havin' a purpose. like, hahh, society being a well-oiled machine n' people are jus' cogs and — fuck! suguru, can't even focus like this."

your back is writhing against geto's toned chest, and you can feel the dark strands of hair that have escaped his hairtie tickling at your cheek, "i know, beautiful," he coos, almost as though he quite likes you, rather than the loathing that he claims, "now tell me, who's ideas does structural functionalism align with? answer quick, and i'll make ya' cum this time, promise!"

brain whirring on overtime to snap out a rushed breath, "emile durkheim!" your lips pouting as you heave in a candied breath of air, "that's right, isn't it? now you promised, so please! make me cum, sugu', fuck."

you can hear geto chuckle, "you didn't make me pinky promise, though?" and he's revelling in how you huff, and curse him out, "besides, i like watching you squirm all pretty for the camera. helps me remember my notes so much more. y'know that 'm gonna' go back and revise this later."

﹙ 両面 宿儺 : ryomen sukuna ﹚ ─ anthropology, history

"you're a virgin?" your mouth parting into a sweet gasp as charlotte tilbury leaves sticky strands of product stringing between your pretty lips. because, there's just no way...

sukuna's rolling his crimson eyes, and shoving his tattooed hands into the ragged pockets of his thick hoodie, "why don't we focus on the project again? y'know that the entire thing is due next week, and this is our last meet-up before we gotta' present?"

the burly, quiet man's clearly flushed — with his tanned cheeks painted awash in some watercolour, blushy hue. muttering something about insolent cheerleaders and how he's refusing to get a bad grade because of you. but you're never one to lose. you just cross your arms over your chest, and a little more firmly on purpose, just to watch sukuna gulp as his gaze drops right down to that shadow of cleavage, "hey, you're the one who asked if i was sleeping with the quarterback."

sukuna's just too easy, because for all his churlish, jerkish attitude, he's not immune at all to your easiest charms. like a pretty red lollipop, or a spritz of your favourite body mist, or when you hike the hem of your skirt up just a little bit higher to doodle faint hearts on your flesh. and now he's grunting, drawing his eyes away from your torso to gulp, training his eyes solely on the project rubric, "yeah. was jus' a question. i don't give a fuck."

"mhm, sure." snapping strawberry gum between your teeth, "because i'm not with him." you grin as sukuna stiffens, almost snapping the poor, thin frame of a cheap lead pencil between his thick fingers.

"no?" he sounds almost, almost sheepish. battered headphones clattering around his marked neck as he jerks, and you almost coo. for it's honestly quiet sweet at how interested he sounds. ironic, considering ryomen sukuna is one of the most surly men on campus. always with his nose buried in some medieval book, always some exemplary paper of his pinned to the student noticeboard about the heian era.

"no," you repeat, scooting just a little bit closer to his broad frame, "because 'm interested in someone else, ya' see. like you, 'kuna."

the pencil snaps, the wood finally giving out to the quick motion of sukuna's fingers clamping down on it. pieces scattering and littering the table as broken lead clutters, the remnants of a man who's just had his world rocked but doesn't want to admit it, "hah, funny," he's muttering, "yer' really interested in me?" all you had murmured was a tempting, alluring little phrase that would remain with sukuna forever, something like, "want me to prove it?"

and that's exactly how you ended up like this. eyes blown wide, little hearts dancing around your pupils as you took in the sheer size and girth of what sukuna was hiding in his faded jeans. lips parting to close over the weeping tip of his thick shaft, and grinning at how there's already sheer, salty drops leaking out.

"fuck, w-wait," sukuna's groaning, with his spiky head of two-toned hair thrown back against your desk chair, "it's sensitive." clacking his sharp teeth around a wanton moan when you tongue at the veins bulging on the sides of his cock, "already feels like 'm gonna –"

"cum?" you offer helpfully, flattening your tongue against him so he throbs, hot and heavy, into your mouth. releasing yourself from his cock with a loud pop! and you're sure glad that your sorority roommates aren't home, for you're not sure how to explain that you're dripping wet yourself, just from sucking off the most infamous, ill-reputed nerd on campus.

"yeah, yeah," sukuna rasps, a heady and low tone that escapes from his chest, "and that would be e-embarrassing, fuck, that's — that's a good spot." sighing as you trail teasing fingers over folded skin, right at the underside of the base of his cock.

"not that embarrassing, 'kuna," you shake your head, loosening the slick strand of saliva that was stringing away from your lips. replacing your mouth with an entirely different type of gloss, and one that you're growing increasingly fond of, "and besides, we got a lotta' time before my roommates come back. plenty of other things we can do, hah."

﹙ 七海 建人 : nanami kento ﹚ ─ economics

"but i jus' think numbers are kind of beautiful, wouldn't you say? like they have their own satisfying figure and precision?"

you smack nanami's chest, leaving a small, cherry hue over your boyfriend's pectorals, "your girlfriend is literally under you, and you're talking about numbers being beautiful."

he gives you an apologetic smile, thick waves of golden hair dampened with the sweat of exertion that was to be expected when he was delivering the sweetest, most loving strokes to your very core. thick, bulging tip kissing your cervix as nanami huffs, "sorry, darling. nothing's more beautiful than my girl, and, heh, yer' figure is the one i love the most."

"that's better," you gasp, feeling him rummage through your swollen pussy. girthy shaft bulging past throbbing, dripping folds as he delivers hit after surefire hit against your g-spot. but then, suddenly, you're frowning, "don't you have class, like, right now, babe?"

nanami squeezes his eyes shut, amber lashes kissing peach-flushed skin. "yeah, had some tutorial," he groans, drawing his cock out of you almost entirely before he's snapping his hips back into you with such force that there's a resounding smack reverberating through his bedroom, "but heh, they don't really need me there. i already know all my shit."

"and you won't get in, i don't know, trouble?"

your boyfriend shakes his head, pushing aside the stack of stock market magazines littered near your head, so he can slam his hand down on the soft quilt. all so nanami can steady himself as he has only one purpose in mind, to make you cum. to make you see such stars of pleasure that you squirt all over his cock. and he can already picture your fucked-out form, hazy and littered with the marks of his loving. and drenched down below.

well, anatomically, it mustn't be possible but at the mere vision, nanami can feel himself harden even more. like his cock is responding to the hypnotising grip that you've got him in. hefty balls tightening further and he's rasping in your ear, "can i —, fuck, can i cum in ya', darling?" desperate and falling apart at the mere idea, at the way your eyes flutter shut in bliss, "only if yer' also wanting me to, i swear. but please –"

"yeah. in me, kento. baby, all yours."

that's all it really takes for thick, stringy wads of hot release to spurt out from nanami's weeping tip. cock releasing strands of gooey seed into your cunt in a way that makes your boyfriend press his forehead against yours, littering a thousand kisses against your fucked-out, smiling lips, "thank you, thank you, thank you, darling. i love you so much. can't even put it into words, but i love you —"

﹙ 伏黒 甚爾 : toji fushiguro ﹚ ─ physical education, kinesiology

"what the fuck did you jus' call me, ma?" toji's got a blunt nail trailing down your spine, running over the curve of your ass, "a nerd?"

you're writhing, "yeah, yeah. i mean, that's what everyone says," and it takes every cell in your body to fight back the inevitable release that toji's bestowing upon you. for you're determined to delay this just a little longer, to feel toji's thick cock slam into you from behind over and over in a way that you never really expected from the grumpy sports major.

and it seems the idea amuses him, for you don't even need to turn around to imagine how his sharp, jade-green eyes must be narrowing at the knowledge of what everyone calls toji fushiguro behind his back. how toji's sharp, shark-like grin must be widening, sharpening knives to sink into your shoulder, "why? 'cause i don't do that stupid, attention-seeking sports shit like everyone else in my degree? 'cause i don't wanna' waste my time on the field or in the locker rooms?"

"t-toji, it's 'cause you always got your damn nose in a book. and i didn't even know you could —," you shriek, feeling his burly forearm come up in front of you, past your bouncing breasts to support your weight as he presses further into you, "i honestly didn't even know you could fuckin' read."

"suchhh a nasty attitude, ma," toji chuckles, and your ass pleasurably stings at the resounding smacks echoing through the (thankfully) empty gymnasium. your lace panties pulled to the sides as you're balanced over the bleachers right in the very corner where the lonesome toji fushiguro prefers to sit, where no one else can bother him.

but damn, if he's not getting off on the idea of taking you so prettily like this. don't get him wrong, toji loves this position. loves how nasty and filthy your pretty arch is when he's swabbing his cock against your pussy. but fuck, he also wishes you were flipped around for him. just so he could press a thumb to your lower lip, and watch your eyes go all silly and crossed for him. while he tacked the thick curl of dark hair around his groin to your sticky, throbbing clit. battered your pretty cunt with his inches until that feisty lil' attitude melted away into sugar and cream.

you moan, such a wanton sound, when toji's thick fingers are climbing up your throat. past your jaw to settle at your mouth. pushing past your lip so you can drool so beautifully for him as he does his level best to at least regretfully silence the sexy sounds falling out of your lips.

"careful, ma," toji shudders, feeling the tight heat of your cunt snatch his soul away, "wanna' keep the volume down so those rocks-for-brains football players don't hear what's going on here. unless, you want them to see how the nerd's practically plowing your brains out, hah."

the resulting clench of your cunt tells toji all that he needs to know, and he has to bite back the furious blush crawling over him, underneath his faded varsity jacket, "oh? that's how it is? well, okay then. hold on."

﹙ 脹�� : choso kamo ﹚ ─ lab medicine, psychology

you know better than to sass choso when he's like this, the night before the final semester exam. see, because the man's got your thighs splayed so prettily out for him. glistening, and dripping all over his bedspread. and to the side, he's got that damn anatomy textbook flipped open.

choso's frustrated, sighing and flicking the pads of his fingers against his tongue to thumb at the sticking pages. rolling his eyes when he isn't able to find the passage that he wants, as if that's your fault. but you don't miss the hungry gleam in the raven-haired man's eyes, the spiky knots atop his head coming loose as he delves right back into his favourite meal. his favourite study snack being your glossy cunt, for he could munch on the slick strands forever.

"bear with me, my love," choso's cooing, trailing a slender, pale finger up your sticky folds until he comes to rest at your clit. tapping the throbbing bud once, "jus' gotta' memorise this, and you're helping me so much."

he's pressing a chaste, quaint kiss to your pulsing clit. that dark mark stretched across his face twitching as he murmurs, "ah, think, choso! right, the clitoral glans has, hmm, 8000 nerve endings. and it leads up to..." choso's drawing slow, teasing circles on your clit and it makes you whine, bucking your hips, "patience, my love. i'll reward you extra special for helpin' me out like this. now, it leads up to the clitoral shaft — and did i tell ya' what the crura is?"

you shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut as you rut against choso's handsome nose for some delicious friction, and he clearly seems eager to indulge you, though he's still lost in academic thought, "right. i guess, baby, you could say the crura are kinda' like the legs for the clitoris. and they extend allll along the pelvic bones."

choso's marvelling the glossy, sheer slick coating his fingers. licking a flat stripe right against your swollen, eager cunt, "and the glans, well, my extended answer needs to mention how they, uh, damn, baby. you're soaked." he's shaking his head again, "i keep getting distracted. the glans — they're the ones with the alpha-delta, and c-fibres, and that's what makes you feel so good. transmitting sensations y'see, i get extra marks for mentioning that."

you hazard a glance to the shining pages of the new textbook that choso's kept on his shelf all semester, "and the, uh, the pudendal reflex? you got a sticky note on that one, babe?"

choso smiles, slowly flicking your clitoral hood in up and down motions, each movement sending simmering pleasure through your groin, "a spinal reflex, m'love. helps with the involuntary muscle contractions, like when i do this —," flatting the pad of his thumb against your clit to run tighter circles against the aching nub, watching as your hips jolt up further against his face. coating the lower half of his features in translucent arousal.

"now, my favourite part," choso says, grinning as he turns his attentions elsewhere, to your dripping entrance pooling such a mess over his sheets. and your boyfriend's tugging at his grey sweatpants, "the grafenberg spot. i don't think my fingers will be enough to stimulate it properly."

[enhaflixer]

CUMMING OF AGE

bsfs brother!Heeseung x f!reader - when you ask him to teach you how to masturbate. (pure porn with plot. MDNI 18+, explicit, masturbation, cunnilingus, phone sex, ANGST, fluff too so its fine.) “If she’s not cumming, she’s not listening to her pussy.” “And if she won’t listen…” “I’ll make her.”

You’ve always had a hate-hate relationship with masturbation.

Not the “haha I don’t know what I’m doing” kind. Not the shy, innocent kind. The kind where you tried, over and over again, and every time it ended in that same aching, pathetic way—panties soaked, fingers numb, pussy throbbing, and absolutely nothing to show for it.

No finish. No orgasm. Not even a fucking twitch of satisfaction.

You rubbed and rubbed, like everyone said to. You found your clit. You circled it. Pressed it. Flicked it. Tried soft and slow, then fast and desperate. Tried with spit, with lotion, with fucking coconut oil once. But nothing ever felt right. Just this frustrating hum of almost. Like your body was teetering on the edge of something big and just… refused to jump.

You’d end up sore. Agitated. Your legs would shake, but not the good kind. Your pussy would swell, throbbing like she was mocking you for trying.

It made you feel broken. Or worse—boring. Like your body was wired wrong. Like you’d missed the most basic feminine skill everyone else seemed to be born with.

Girls talked about cumming like it was breathing. Like they could do it in five minutes flat with one hand and a good imagination. You’d hear them talk about shaking through the sheets, arching off the bed, seeing stars—and you’d smile and nod and laugh along, pretending like you got it, like you knew what it was like to get wrecked by your own hand.

You’d never even come close.

You tried toys. You bought a vibrator and nearly cried when it did nothing but make your arms go numb. You tried grinding on pillows until the friction made you raw. You tried porn. You even tried watching yourself once in the mirror like some kind of twisted self-help therapy. Nothing worked.

You’d touch and touch and chase and beg for it in your head—please, just this once, just let me finish, please—and still end up breathless, sticky, empty.

You’d cry sometimes. Just a little. From the frustration of it. From the absolute humiliation of being so fucking horny and not being able to do anything about it.

You hated that about yourself. Hated the way your body seemed to enjoy the build and not the release. Hated the way your clit would throb for attention and then get overwhelmed the second you gave her any. Hated the need. The noise. The mess with no reward.

But the worst part—the actual worst part—was how much you still wanted it. How much you still tried. Like a dog chasing its own tail. Like some needy little loser who couldn’t leave it alone.

You were eighteen, for fuck’s sake. You were supposed to know your body by now. You were supposed to be able to make yourself cum. You were supposed to own your pleasure.

Instead, you were stuck with a pussy that got wet at the idea of being touched and then shut down the second you did.

It made you feel fucking insane.

So you gave up. Mostly. You still touched yourself when you needed to—when it built up too much and made your thighs ache. But it wasn’t about cumming anymore. It was maintenance. A reset button. A pressure valve. You did it in the dark, quietly, quickly, just to shut your body up.

You didn’t even think about pleasure anymore.

You didn’t dare.

-

Evie—Heejoo, but you only ever called her that when you wanted to piss her off—was your best friend in the world. Ride-or-die since ninth grade, bonded over a shared hatred of your chem teacher and the fact that neither of you fit into your school’s carefully manicured social circles.

Where you were sharp and quick with your mouth, she was soft-spoken and wide-eyed, just sweet enough to disarm anyone who got too close. You balanced each other out. She calmed your storm. You stirred hers.

You were over at her house so often it barely felt like visiting anymore. You knew the code to their garage door. You had your own toothbrush in her bathroom. Her mom kept your favorite cereal in the pantry like clockwork. You even had a drawer in her room, mostly old hoodies and stolen pajama shorts that smelled like her perfume.

It wasn’t unusual for you to spend the weekend there, or three nights in a row, or an entire spring break. Her parents didn’t mind. They liked knowing where you both were—liked having an extra body in the house, even if they never said it out loud.

And then there was Heeseung.

Her older brother. Four years up. Barely a presence.

When you were younger, he was just the older guy who sulked in his room and stole her chargers. Sometimes he’d give you a ride when Evie asked, sometimes he’d walk past you in the kitchen and grunt a greeting, but that was about it. He was there, and then he wasn’t—off to college, off to god knows where, vanishing from your life as quickly as he’d drifted through it.

You had a tiny crush on him once, freshman year. The kind that sparked quick and stupid, fed by his lazy smirk and the way he wore his backwards cap while fixing his car in the driveway. It died fast—suffocated by time and distance and his complete disinterest in acknowledging your existence beyond a nod or a side-eye.

By the time he moved back home post-grad, you barely noticed. He was older now, busier, always in his room with the door closed, voice low behind it, like he was on constant phone calls or late-night games or… something.

You didn’t think about him much. He was just Evie’s brother. Part of the background. White noise.

Your focus was always Evie.

She was the one who held your hair when you puked. The one who lent you a dress before every shitty date. The one who knocked on the bathroom door when you were taking too long and said, “You better not be edge-cumming again, bitch,” like it was the most normal sentence in the world.

She talked about sex like it was just part of the air. Blunt. Effortless. She could make herself cum in three minutes flat. She said it with confidence, like breathing.

You hated how easily it came to her. You loved her anyway.

You always felt safe in her house. Safe in her bed, tangled up under a shared blanket, legs overlapping like twins born too far apart. Her room smelled like vanilla and lip gloss and safety. It felt like yours.

-

The house settled around you like it always did—quiet, gentle, familiar in a way that made your muscles loosen and your brain drift. Even the silence felt padded here. The hum of the fridge downstairs, the occasional pop of cooling pipes, the subtle click of the thermostat shifting—background noise you’d grown so used to, it almost felt like home.

Evie was out cold beside you, one arm thrown carelessly across your stomach, her breath hot against your ribs. She always slept fast after wine. She always slept on you, too—like her body never quite understood boundaries even after all these years. You didn’t mind. It was comforting, the weight of her. Like a grounding wire for the anxious, electric static building low in your belly.

Sleep wasn’t coming for you, though.

You’d been lying there in the dark for the better part of an hour, phone dimmed to nearly unreadable brightness, eyes burning from the glow. Nothing on your feed caught your attention. You’d scrolled past the same content three times already, thumb swiping out of pure muscle memory.

Something restless twisted beneath your skin, persistent and irritating. Not quite horniness, not quite insomnia—just that same pulsing tension that had been sitting heavy between your legs all night. Like your body was trying to tell you something without using words. You shifted under the blanket, trying not to disturb Evie, thighs pressing tighter together to relieve the dull ache. It only made it worse.

The urge to do something about it had been growing for hours.

You’d thought about sneaking off to the bathroom. You’d done it before—quiet, quick, businesslike. Just enough friction to take the edge off before falling asleep, still unsatisfied but too tired to care. The idea barely tempted you anymore. You already knew how it would end: the usual mess of spit-slick fingers, your clit swollen and sore, pussy wet and pulsing and still refusing to give you anything real.

Just the thought of trying again made you clench your jaw.

It was pathetic, the way your body teased you. Wet for no reason. Needy without payout. Over and over again, like clockwork. Like punishment.

You turned your phone off with a quiet sigh and let the screen go black.

For a moment, all you could hear was the creak of the floorboards expanding under the weight of a settling house. A branch tapping against the window. The subtle drag of Evie’s breathing. You stared at the ceiling, tired but tense, willing yourself to shut down the frustration building behind your ribs.

A man’s voice, deep and casual, barely audible through the cracked bedroom doors. Not enough to make out words. Not yet. Just the soft cadence of speech, rising and falling like a secret being shared too close to the edge of the world.

Heeseung’s door was open. Or cracked. Just enough to let a sliver of sound spill out. You hadn’t even realized he was home tonight.

Your body stilled, like it always did when you felt watched—except this time, you were the one doing the watching. Listening, technically. Just barely.

There was a pause, then a laugh. Not his. Another voice. Someone else. Male. Maybe one of his friends from school, the ones who came and went without warning. You couldn’t place the sound, and you didn’t care.

Your focus sharpened the second Heeseung spoke again.

“It’s not that hard. Girls make it harder than it is."

“If she’s not cumming, she’s not listening to her pussy.”

The sentence dropped like a stone in the middle of your chest.

Not whispered. Not dirty. Just… stated. Like a law. Like fact.

Your fingers flexed unconsciously against the blanket. Heat flushed your neck and settled low in your belly, familiar and unwelcome. You didn’t move. Couldn’t.

There was something about the way he said it. Not performative. Not like he was trying to sound cool. Just calm. Confident. Like the kind of guy who got women off without effort and never thought twice about why.

Every hair on your arm lifted. He didn’t stop there.

“And if she won’t listen…I’ll make her.”

No laughter followed that. No teasing. Just a quiet moment where it hung in the air, unchallenged.

You lay frozen in the dark, heart thudding, mouth slightly open. Your legs ached under the blanket, thighs tense and pressed together. You weren’t just turned on—you were caught. Cornered by something you weren’t supposed to hear and couldn’t let go of.

Something clicked. Not like a revelation, not some dramatic internal monologue, just… a shift. A tilt in the floor beneath your feet. A door opening in a room you didn’t realize you were trapped in.

You didn’t even know what you wanted in that moment.

But for the first time in your life, you wondered—really wondered—what your body would feel like under instructions that weren’t your own.

-

You tried not to think about it for the rest of the day. Swore you wouldn’t spiral.

You kept the overheard words tucked somewhere tight in your chest, smothered under fake laughter and half-listened stories while Evie walked you through her latest dating app disasters. You made it through brunch, through an entire Target run, through two face masks and one trashy Netflix documentary—and you almost convinced yourself you were over it.

But when the house quieted again that night—when Evie fell asleep curled up on the far side of the bed with her arm draped over a pillow instead of you—you gave in.

You waited a while. Just in case she wasn’t fully out. The kind of sleep that could crack open with the creak of floorboards.

And when her breathing evened out, soft and deep and oblivious, you slid out from under the blanket, grabbed your phone, and slipped into the hallway.

The bathroom door closed with a soft click behind you.

You didn’t turn the light on right away. Just stood there for a second in the dark, breathing.

The air was cooler here. The tiles cold against your feet. The smell of Evie’s shampoo still clung to the room—vanilla and something floral, sticky-sweet. You stared at your reflection in the mirror above the sink, barely visible in the silver sliver of hallway light. Your face looked flushed. Too open. Like something had already been peeled back.

You sat on the closed toilet lid, tugged your hoodie over your thighs, and pulled your phone into your lap.

No buildup. No browsing. You knew what you were looking for.

The video you always came back to. The closest thing you’d ever found to what worked. A deep voice. Slow instructions. Just audio—nothing to watch, nothing to focus on but sound.

It wasn’t him, but it didn’t have to be. Not yet.

Your underwear stuck to the heat between your thighs as you slid it down. Still wet from the tension that had been building since that morning. From the second you saw Heeseung in the kitchen and felt your legs press together automatically.

The wetness should’ve been a good sign.

But you already knew how this would go.

You played the video. Turned the volume down low. Closed your eyes.

Your fingers found your clit easily. Rubbed gentle circles, the way the voice said. You tried to breathe through it, tried to slow down, to listen.

There was too much pressure too soon. Your skin twitched with every touch. The angle was wrong. The rhythm never quite synced. Your body jerked between feeling almost there and feeling absolutely nothing.

You tried harder.

Tried picturing something—someone. His voice. His mouth. The way he looked at you this morning like you weren’t just Evie’s friend, like he saw something else.

That made your fingers move faster. Your hips twitch up from the seat, trying to find something—anything—that would tip you over.

But it never came.

Just heat. Just sweat. Just the same stinging tension in your thighs and the wave that built up, crested, and refused to break.

Your hand dropped. Your chest heaved with a breath that sounded too much like a sob.

You sat there for a full minute in silence, pussy swollen, twitching, soaking your hand—and still nothing. You hadn’t cum. Not even close.

Not even fucking close.

Your palm dragged across your inner thigh as you reached for toilet paper, the wet slick of your own arousal catching against your skin, obscene and bitter and useless. You wiped your hand clean, flushed, washed it under the tap in a daze.

Your reflection stared back at you in the mirror, flushed cheeks, wild eyes, bottom lip bitten raw.

This wasn’t working.

You couldn’t do this by yourself. Not anymore.

The shame didn’t even hit you until you opened the door, stepped back into the hall, and looked toward Heeseung’s room.

You didn’t remember walking from the bathroom to his door. Not really. Your body moved on instinct, fingers still damp with failure, breath shallow and uneven like you’d been running—not down a hallway, but in circles inside your own skin. Everything felt hot and wrong, like you were standing too close to something dangerous and still leaning closer.

The light from under his door was soft, pale blue. The kind of glow that came from a computer screen and sleepless hours. It made the hallway feel colder. Your skin felt clammy beneath your hoodie, thighs still tacky with your own arousal, pulse thudding hard behind your ears. You didn’t even try to calm yourself before raising your hand. There wasn’t enough time. There wasn’t enough anything left.

You knocked.

Soft, quick. Regretted it immediately.

Nothing.

The silence on the other side stretched just long enough to make you feel stupid. You should’ve gone back to Evie’s room. Should’ve locked the bathroom door and buried your face in your hands like you always did. Should’ve swallowed the shame and left it to rot where it always did: at the bottom of your throat.

Your hand was already dropping when the doorknob turned.

Heeseung opened the door halfway, leaning into the frame, and for a second you couldn’t speak. You weren’t expecting him to look like that—hoodie sleeves pushed up to his forearms, collar askew, hair a damp mess like he’d run his hands through it one too many times. His sweatshorts hung low on his hips, legs bare, skin flushed warm like he’d just come out of the shower… or just come. You had no way of knowing which. And it made your brain short-circuit either way.

He didn’t look surprised to see you. Just confused.

His eyes dragged down your body with a slow kind of calculation, and you swore you saw the moment they caught on the way your thighs were pressed together, your bare legs twitching under the hem of your hoodie. The way your breath hitched in your throat. The way your fingers—still wet, still trembling—curled tighter at your side.

He blinked once, brows pulling in slightly.

“You good?”

The question was simple, quiet. But it hit like an echo in a room with no furniture. You were not good. Not even close.

Your voice came out before you could soften it. Flat, direct. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

He blinked again. Caught off guard this time.

“…What?”

“I just need to know,” you said quickly, words tumbling over each other. “Before I say anything. It matters.”

He stared at you for a beat, mouth twitching like he wasn’t sure if he should be amused or suspicious.

“No. I don’t.”

You exhaled like someone had untied a knot inside your chest.

“Fuck.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “What?”

“If you said yes,” you muttered, eyes darting to the floor, “I would’ve had an excuse not to ask you.”

That made him pause.

He shifted his weight, crossed his arms over his chest, leaned into the doorframe like he was settling in. His voice was a little lower when he asked, “Ask me what?”

Your whole body burned. There was no easy way to say it. No casual phrasing. No safe distance between you and the truth anymore. You didn’t have the energy to dance around it.

“You said something last night,” you started, forcing yourself to look at him. “About girls who can’t finish. About how they’re not listening to their bodies.”

He watched you carefully. No expression, just the slow, measured study of a man waiting for the rest.

“I heard it,” you added. “By accident. But it’s been stuck in my head. And I thought—I don’t know, I thought maybe you were right.”

Still nothing. Just his gaze crawling over your face, down to your knees, like he was trying to see where this was going before letting himself speak.

You swallowed, the taste of failure still thick in your throat. “I tried again tonight. Bathroom. Just now. I’ve been trying for years, and it’s always the same. Nothing works. I can’t finish. I touch myself, and it just—goes nowhere.”

Your cheeks burned. You didn’t even know why you were telling him all this. You barely knew the guy. The last time you’d had a real conversation was probably three birthdays ago when he offered you a ride and you said no because he smelled like weed and fuckboy cologne.

But here you were. Standing in front of him like some half-dressed, sweat-slick confession, spilling everything.

And he still hadn’t said a word.

Your next breath shook as it left you.

“I don’t want you to touch me,” you said, quieter now. “I just want to ask… if you’d tell me what to do.”

That got something out of him. A small breath through his nose, not quite a laugh, not quite disbelief. His eyes dropped—lower this time—to your legs again, to the edge of your hoodie, to the bare skin flushed and prickling under the hallway air.

He nodded once toward you, chin tilting. “Your hand’s still wet.”

You froze.

His voice was low, unreadable. “You tried that hard, huh?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

He stepped back.

Just a few inches. Just enough to open the door wider. The light from inside poured out around him, cool and soft and full of static.

He held your gaze.

 “Come in. Close the door behind you.”

The door shuts with a soft click behind you, and just like that, the house disappears. Evie’s room, the hallway, your entire carefully contained world—it all drops away. There’s only the low glow of his monitor casting pale blue light across the carpet and the quiet hum of something electric in the corner, like the room itself is holding its breath.

You hover near the door for a second, not sure what to do with your hands, your legs, your shame.

Heeseung’s already sitting, legs wide in his desk chair, turned toward you like he was waiting the whole night for this. He shifts, pushes himself up slightly, and drags the chair forward—lazily, unbothered—until it sits right in front of the bed. Close enough that if you spread your legs, he’d have a front-row seat.

Then he flips the chair around, straddling it backwards like some cocky delinquent in detention, arms crossed over the backrest, chin resting casually on top. His expression doesn’t change. He just watches you.

“Go ahead,” he says, voice calm and low, like this is just another Tuesday night. “Sit.”

You make your way to the bed, legs tense, breath shallow, and perch at the edge like it might bite. Your thighs clench on instinct, hoodie pulled low, trying to shield what you already know he’s seen. You’re still warm from the bathroom. Still soaked. Still aching.

His eyes drift down. Slow. Lazy. No shame.

You fidget.

Heeseung doesn’t move. “Don’t get shy on me now. You came in here asking for a masturbation lesson, not a bedtime story.”

Your lips twitch. You almost laugh. Almost.

He lifts his chin. “Tell me what you usually do.”

The question lands harder than it should. Not because it’s dirty, but because it’s so simple.

You blink. “Like… where I touch?”

“Yeah.”

You hesitate. “I usually just go straight to my clit.”

“Figures.” He doesn’t miss a beat. “And then what? Rub the fuck out of it ‘til it gets sore and wonder why it doesn’t work?”

Your mouth falls open in a small gasp. “Excuse me?”

He shrugs one shoulder, unbothered. “Don’t take it personal. That’s what most girls do. It’s not your fault you think the goal is speed over sense.”

You don’t respond, but your silence is answer enough.

He leans in a little, forearms resting on the chair back, gaze glued to your bare thighs. There’s no hunger in it—not yet. Just observation. Like he’s assessing you.

“If your pussy had a voice,” he says smoothly, “she’d be screaming at you to chill the fuck out.”

You’re quiet for a long second. Because the worst part is… he’s not wrong.

He watches you squirm, and something like amusement passes over his features. Not cruel, but smug.

“Take your time,” he says, gentler now. “You rush her, she locks up. Doesn’t matter how wet you are.”

“…She?” you murmur, lifting a brow.

Heeseung shrugs again, like it’s obvious. “Yeah. She.” His eyes flick to yours. “You don’t gotta name her or write poetry about her, but you should probably stop treating her like a vending machine.”

Your laugh breaks before you can stop it. Quick and sharp, nerves bleeding out of your throat. “You’re so annoying.”

“And yet, you’re still here,” he says with a smirk, eyes dark. “Go on. Show me how you start.”

Everything tightens. You feel the weight of his voice low in your belly.

You don’t move right away.

He raises a brow. “You said you didn’t want me to touch you. That’s cool. But I need to see what you’re doing wrong.”

Your breath hitches.

Your hand moves on instinct—slow, shaky—and dips beneath the hem of your hoodie, then under the band of your panties. You’re already wet. Embarrassingly wet. And when your fingers graze over your clit, you flinch. It’s too sensitive. Too much. Your hips jerk a little, and you pretend not to notice the way his eyes follow the motion.

You rub. Once. Twice. It’s not bad. It’s what you always do.

But still—nothing clicks.

Heeseung tilts his head. “You’re too stiff.”

“I’m nervous,” you admit quietly.

“Don’t be.” His voice drops half an octave. “You look hot.”

The way he says it—it doesn’t sound like a compliment. Just a fact. Like he’s telling you what time it is. Like your soaked fingers and clenched thighs are something he’s been picturing all night.

“You’re thinking too much,” he adds. “Trying to force it instead of feel it.”

Your hand stills.

He leans forward slightly, his voice quieter now, more intimate. “Try this. Press your hand flat. Just hold her. No rubbing. No tapping. Just… feel her.”

You hesitate, then obey.

The flat of your hand settles between your legs, heat blooming up your arm from the contact. Your whole body clenches around it.

“Feel that?”

You nod. Barely.

“That’s what she likes,” he murmurs. “You’ve been poking at her like she’s a fucking keyboard. No wonder she’s not putting out.”

You let out a breathy laugh—half scandalized, half aroused. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re soaking through your panties,” he says, deadpan.

Your breath catches. Heeseung doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t look away.

He sits there like he’s got all the time in the world. Like he’s doing you a favor. Like he’s enjoying this. You’re not even sure he’s hard yet—but he will be. You can feel it building. Between you. In you.

He lets the moment hang.

Then: “Now—slow circles. Don’t speed up unless she tells you to.”

“She doesn’t talk,” you whisper, teasing without confidence.

His gaze is heavy. Steady.

“She does,” he says, voice like heat sliding under your skin. “You just haven’t been listening.”

The room feels hotter now.

Not just the air—your skin, your mouth, your thighs. Sweat clings to the backs of your knees, damp beneath the bunched-up hoodie, and your panties are so wet they’re practically glued to one thigh. Your hips keep twitching without your permission, rolling up slightly with every pass of your fingers. It’s not graceful. It’s not some porn fantasy. It’s messy and uneven and real, and Heeseung is watching every second of it like it’s the only thing worth watching.

You keep thinking you should feel embarrassed. Ashamed. You’re spread open on his bed, hand stuffed between your legs, whining softly every time you stroke a little too hard and have to ease back again—but you’re too far gone now to stop. Your cheeks are flushed, lashes wet, lips parted, and you can’t look away from him.

He hasn’t blinked once.

Heeseung is still straddling the backward chair, elbows resting on the top, chin on one hand like this is casual. Normal. Like you’re just some half-naked girl jerking off in front of him for practice and he’s your substitute teacher for the night.

The only thing that’s changed is his posture.

His knees are spread wider than before. His forearms are tense. One hand grips the edge of the chair a little tighter every time your body jerks, and you don’t miss the way his jaw flexes every time your breath stutters or your voice cracks.

You’re doing this to him.

But not enough.

Not enough to make it stop hurting. Not enough to make the ache go away. Not enough to finish.

You’re trying. God, you’re trying.

Your fingers rub in slow circles, not too fast now. You’re listening. You are. But your body keeps tensing at the edge, like it’s scared to fall off the cliff it’s been building for years. Your hand’s cramping. Your clit throbs. Your stomach clenches like you’re close—and then it dips, again and again.

It’s good. So good.

But it’s not enough.

You choke on a frustrated sound, somewhere between a sob and a moan, and your free hand fists the blanket beneath you like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

Heeseung speaks, finally, voice low and steady. “Still rushing her.”

“I’m not,” you whisper.

“You are. I can see it.”

You shake your head, breath stuttering. “I’m not trying to—I swear, I’m—” You gasp. “It’s just—it’s not—”

You stop. Words catch in your throat. Your hips are rocking now, involuntarily, chasing a sensation that keeps pulling away the second you get close. Your fingers are wet, your pussy’s pulsing, and it still feels like you’re just rubbing up against a wall.

“It’s not enough,” you breathe out, broken. “I—I can’t—fuck—she’s not listening.”

Heeseung leans forward slightly, something sharp flashing in his eyes.

“Oh, she’s listening,” he says. “You’re just not talking to her the right way.”

You whimper. “Then tell me what to say.”

That makes his mouth twitch—just barely. Like he’s been waiting for that.

“Tell me what she’s feeling first.”

“I—” Your voice cracks. “She’s tight. Warm. I feel her—pulsing. Like she wants something but—she’s not opening.”

He tilts his head slightly, gaze dark. “She wants to be filled.”

You nod.

“No,” he says. “Say it.”

Your chest heaves. Your hand hasn’t stopped moving, rubbing slow, desperate circles around your clit. “She wants to be filled.”

“Say it like you mean it.”

“She wants to be fucking filled,” you whine. “She’s throbbing—she’s soaking—fuck, I can feel her squeezing nothing.”

Heeseung exhales slowly, eyes flicking down between your legs again.

“There you go,” he murmurs. “Now she’s talking.”

Your fingers glide lower, catching more slick and sliding back up. Everything’s soaked. You’re dripping down onto the sheets, and your thighs are trembling from the strain of keeping your hips lifted just right.

“She needs more,” you pant. “She’s clenching—she’s starving—”

Heeseung’s hand flexes around the edge of the chair again. His voice drops, almost to a growl. “So feed her.”

You moan—high and breathy—and press harder, circling your clit faster now, the way your body wants. Your lips are wet, your fingers slipping, but it doesn’t matter. Everything is slick and hot and alive.

“You’re soaked,” he mutters, eyes burning into you. “Look at your fucking fingers.”

You do. It’s obscene. Your hand shines in the light, your fingers coated in slick. You barely recognize your own body like this. Ruined. Responsive.

“She’s begging,” he says softly. “And you’re finally listening.”

You whine, eyes squeezing shut. Your free hand presses against your lower belly, trying to hold the heat in. Your pussy twitches at the pressure.

“She’s so fucking greedy,” you gasp. “She won’t stop pulling—I can’t—I can’t keep up—”

“You don’t have to,” he says. “She knows what she’s doing. Let her take it.”

You don’t even realize how loud you’ve gotten until you hear yourself moan again—shameless, cracked open, shaking from the inside out.

Your legs spread wider. You’re not trying to hide anymore. Not from him. Not from yourself.

You’re right there.

You’re going to break.

He’s just watching. Like it’s his favorite thing he’s ever seen.

You’re right on the edge, and this time it’s not teasing.

It’s sharp. Fast. Inevitable.

Your legs are trembling now, hips jerking with every motion, and your fingers are soaked—slipping against your clit, coating your inner thighs, dripping down the crease of your ass like your body’s trying to fuck itself open. Every stroke sends another wave of tension through you, and there’s no holding it anymore. Your body is begging. Your pussy’s leaking, twitching, clenching around nothing—and Heeseung watches like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You don’t even realize you’re moaning until you hear it echo back at you in the small room. High-pitched. Desperate. Wet.

The sound of your pussy is louder now too. Sticky and obscene, each rub slicker than the last. You can hear it every time you roll your hips into your palm.

Heeseung doesn’t say a word for a second too long.

You lift your head, eyes glazed over, panting.

His eyes are darker now. Half-lidded. Focused on your pussy like he’s reading it better than your face.

He shifts in his chair. Spreads his knees wider. His hand dips into the front of his sweatshorts, slow and casual, like he can’t ignore it anymore. You catch a glimpse of his fingers wrapping around himself—and your breath catches so hard your vision blurs.

He’s so hard.

His voice comes out deeper. Filthy. Measured like it’s the only thing anchoring him in the room.

“Look at that messy little cunt.”

Your body jerks at the word. You’ve never heard it said like that. Never felt it hit like that.

Heeseung strokes himself once, slow and firm under the fabric.

“She’s drooling all over your fingers. So fucking hungry. Bet she’s never been this loud for you before.”

“She hasn’t,” you breathe. “She never—she never—”

“You’ve been starving her,” he says, still jerking himself lazily. “Touching her like she’s a problem instead of a fucking meal.”

Your hand speeds up, and he sees it. Hears the slap of slick. You’re humping into your fingers now, sloppy and desperate and so close you could scream.

Heeseung leans forward, one elbow braced against the back of the chair.

“You wanna cum, baby?”

You nod frantically, but it’s not enough.

“Use your words.”

Your voice comes out cracked. “Yes. Please—I wanna cum—I need it—”

“Need what?” he pushes.

“I need her to fucking break,” you sob. “She’s clenching—she’s begging—she needs to cum, she needs it—”

“Then let her,” he growls. “Don’t fucking hold it. Let her make a mess.”

You whimper, fingers frantic, back arching off the bed.

And that’s when he says it—low and hot and foul.

“Let her fuck your fingers, slut.”

You snap.

Your body locks up, then shatters. You cum so hard your legs shake, hips jerking forward, thighs squeezing around your own hand as your pussy gushes over your fingers in sticky, messy waves. The moan that rips from your throat is broken, cracked, half-wet from tears.

It doesn’t hit you right away.

At first, there’s just white. Blinding. A full-body seizure of pleasure as your cunt clenches around nothing, soaking your own fingers, mouth open in a moan that doesn’t even sound like you.

It crashes over you fast. Wet. Messy.

You cum harder than you ever have in your life—harder than you thought was even possible—and your body just keeps going, hips jerking, slick dripping past your knuckles, your voice cracking on every gasp.

Heeseung is still there.

You know he is. You can feel his eyes on you, feel his breath in the space between your bodies, but you can’t look at him. Not right now. Not like this.

And then it fades.

That warm, bright static in your brain flickers out. Your thighs twitch. Your hand finally drops, fingers soaked, wrist aching, clit too sensitive to touch again.

What’s left is the sound of your breathing. The slick, wet mess beneath your hips. The embarrassment flooding in all at once like a second wave.

Reality slams back into you hard.

You’re laid out across his bed—sweaty, flushed, thighs spread wide and soaked all the way down to the crease of your ass. Your pussy’s still twitching, swollen and glistening, your panties bunched at one knee, hoodie halfway pushed up your stomach.

Your fingers shine in the low light. Still wet. Still shaking.

You sit up fast, panic sweeping over your skin like ice water. “Shit—fuck.”

Your hand fumbles to pull your hoodie down, yanking it over your thighs, shoving your panties back into place even though they’re absolutely soaked through. The fabric clings wetly to your pussy and only makes the mess feel worse.

Heeseung hasn’t moved.

Still in the chair. Still one hand inside his shorts. He looks completely unbothered. Calm. Like you didn’t just cum your entire soul out in front of him.

You can’t meet his eyes.

He watches you fuss with the hem of your hoodie, your hands still trembling slightly as you try to make yourself look decent.

“Didn’t say stop,” he says mildly.

You glare at him, cheeks burning. “I came. Pretty sure that’s the goal, right?”

He shrugs one shoulder. “Just surprised you’re acting all shy now. That pussy was practically talking thirty seconds ago.”

“Jesus—” you squeeze your eyes shut, bury your face in your hands.

Heeseung grins. Not mean. Not mocking. Just amused.

“You do realize how loud you were, right?” he adds. “I thought the bed was gonna snap in half.”

“Please stop talking,” you groan, voice muffled.

“You were crying,” he says like it’s a compliment, hand still lazily palming himself under his shorts. “That shit was beautiful.”

You peek at him through your fingers. He’s still hard. Still watching you with that same steady calm, like this is fine. Like this is normal.

He doesn’t even seem fazed.

That somehow makes the ache between your legs flare again. Weak, overstimulated, but greedy.

You clear your throat. “I didn’t realize I—um. That I could… do that.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Cum?”

You shoot him a look.

Heeseung laughs, finally letting go of himself. “You’ve been fighting her for years. All I did was give you directions.”

You tuck your knees up into your chest, arms wrapped around them. You feel like you just stripped naked in front of someone who stayed fully clothed—and now he’s just lounging there like you didn’t just show him the most private part of yourself.

You sit in that awkward silence for a few seconds longer.

Heeseung stretches, chair creaking slightly. “So,” he says, tone casual. “Lesson two tomorrow?”

You blink.

“…There’s a second lesson?”

He smiles slow, eyes dropping to your thighs again. “You think she’s done learning?”

Your pussy twitches beneath your soaked panties.

-

Your legs are still weak from the first night when you leave.

Just a few days back home. Just a quick visit. You didn’t think it would matter—but the second you cross the county line, your pussy starts aching like she knows she’s been abandoned. Like she misses his voice already.

You think about texting him before you even unpack your overnight bag.

 It starts that fast—barely through the front door, barely through dinner with your parents, barely through pretending to care about someone’s new side hustle or whatever cousin just had a baby, and already your mind is slipping. 

Already you’re restless. Already your body feels too awake. You can still feel the slick sticking to the inside of your thighs from last night, from the way he sat in that chair like he was doing you a favor while you touched yourself for the first time like it meant something. It hasn’t gone away. The ache stayed with you. 

That trembling throb between your legs that didn’t fade after one orgasm—or two—or three. And now, here you are. Sitting in your childhood bedroom like you didn’t just learn how to listen to your pussy in someone else’s bed with someone else’s voice in your ear.

You last all of twelve hours. Maybe thirteen if you count sleep, but that’s cheating. You keep checking your phone like a freak. Not even for a message—just to see his name.

 You scroll through the notifications like maybe he’ll magically show up. You open his contact. Stare at the little circle icon. You type a text. Delete it. 

Type again. Delete. Pace the room. Pull your hair up. Let it fall. Lie on the bed. Toss the blanket off. Roll onto your stomach, then your back, then sit up again because your body’s too hot and your thoughts won’t stop dragging back to the sound of his voice saying “Good girl. She’s listening now.”

You try to distract yourself. Put music on. Stare at the ceiling. Scroll through reels. But the tension is building and it’s not casual. It’s deep. It’s mean. 

Like your pussy’s crawling up your spine and whispering call him over and over again. And finally, like a fucking addict, you give in.

You don’t try to be subtle. Your fingers tremble as you type the message—“Can I call you?”—and hit send before you can regret it. Your breath catches in your throat. Heart pounding. Shame twisting in your gut like you’ve already crossed a line and he hasn’t even replied. But then your phone buzzes. Two texts in a row. You click without thinking.

No. I’ll call you.

Speaker on. Hands ready. Nothing else.

You don’t even get a second to prepare. The call comes in instantly, and you fumble to answer it, press speaker, toss the phone onto your pillow and sit back, legs shaking under your blanket. You’re wearing nothing but a big t-shirt—no bra, no panties. Like your body already knew what was coming.

His voice is in your ear the second the line connects.

Low. Thick. Wrecked.

“You waited all day just to fuck yourself to my voice, didn’t you?”

The sound alone makes your thighs clamp together. You can’t answer. You don’t know what to say. You feel called out, ruined, exposed, and he hasn’t even seen you.

“You’re pathetic,” he breathes, and it’s not cruel—it’s reverent. Like he’s turned on by the depth of your desperation. “You left for less than twenty-four hours and she’s already starving.”

Your breath comes out shaky. “She hasn’t shut up.”

“I bet. That little pussy’s been crying for attention, hasn’t she? Soaking your panties, throbbing for no reason. Did you even try to touch her?”

Your hand slides down your stomach. Shame floods your chest. “I tried last night.”

“And?”

Your fingers drift over your mound, soft and slow.

“…Didn’t work.”

“Of course it didn’t.” He doesn’t miss a beat. “Because she’s not trained to your fingers. She’s trained to my voice.”

You nearly choke.

“Take the blanket off.”

You do.

“T-shirt stays. I want you messy under it. Like a filthy little secret.”

You obey, chest rising. The air hits your bare skin and your nipples pebble instantly under the thin cotton. You slide your hand under the hem and find yourself dripping already—your folds slippery and warm, your clit throbbing at the first brush.

“Fuck. You’re already wet.”

You don’t answer.

“Don’t ignore me. Say it.”

You whimper. “I’m wet.”

“Where?”

Your hand slides lower. “Everywhere.”

“Let me hear it.”

You drag your fingers through your folds, then lift them to the mic.

Squish. Slick. Wet.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes. “She’s fucking leaking for me.”

“She won’t stop,” you pant. “She’s been clenching—she’s needy. I can’t—I can’t even think straight.”

“She doesn’t need you to think. She needs you to listen.”

You nod like he can see you.

“You touching your clit yet?”

“No,” you whisper. “Just teasing.”

“Don’t tease her. Feed her.”

You obey. Your fingers find your clit and press slow, warm circles into the swollen skin. Your hips twitch immediately. Your body jolts with relief. Like it’s been waiting for this.

“Fuck. That’s it. Let her roll her hips. Let her grind on your fingers.”

You do.

And you moan. Loud. Wet. Pathetic.

“You sound like you’re crying.”

“I might be,” you choke out. “I’m—I’ve been on edge all day. She’s screaming—”

“Then shut her up.”

Your fingers move faster. Your breath turns ragged. The slick is everywhere now—coating your palm, sliding down your ass, soaking the sheets beneath you. You can hear it—slap, slap, slap—and you know he can too.

“God, listen to her,” he says. “She’s fucking talking again. Slapping wet, loud as hell, crying to be filled.”

Your thighs start to shake.

“Don’t you dare stop.”

“Heeseung—fuck, I’m close—”

“She wants to cum. So let her.”

You cum hard, back arching, legs tensed, voice cracking open around a sob as your pussy convulses around nothing—just your fingers, just your shame, just his voice dragging it out of you with nothing but command.

“Again,” he growls. “Don’t you dare take your hand off her. You begged for this. You waited all fucking day for it.”

You keep going. Because you can’t stop. Because this is his now.

-

You don’t get a break.

Heeseung doesn’t let you.

After that first call—the one where you came so hard you swore you saw stars—you thought maybe the tension would ease up. Maybe you’d get to breathe. But you don’t. Because the second you wake up the next morning, there’s already a text waiting for you.

Morning. She hungry?

Your pussy clenches on reflex.

You bite your lip, cheeks flushing under the covers.

Yes.

His reply is instant.

Good. edge yourself until you’re shaking. No cumming. No cheating. You’ll send me a pic of your fingers when you’re done.

That’s it. No teasing. No sweet talk. Just commands. Direct. Cruel. And of course—you obey.

You finger yourself that morning with shaking hands, grinding into your palm in the silence of your old bedroom with one hand over your mouth to muffle your cries. You stop just short of release three times. Your panties are soaked. The sheets beneath you are ruined.

You send the photo.

Two slick fingers, gleaming. One droplet hanging from your wrist like a taunt.

He doesn’t reply until hours later.

Beautiful. Don’t clean her up. Let her stick to your skin. I want her to haunt you all day.

That’s how it starts.

Sometimes it’s a call. Sometimes it’s just a photo prompt. Sometimes it’s voice notes—low, slow, whispered filth that you replay in the bathroom on full volume with your thighs clenched so tight you can barely breathe.

Another day: make a mess on your favorite pair of panties. Send proof. Don’t wash them. Fold them and put them in your drawer like a secret. Like she remembers.

When you can’t call—family dinners, company in the house, a wedding event—he doesn’t complain. He just adapts.

He sends you three voice notes in a row, each one filthier than the last.

“Are you wearing panties right now?”

“She’s wet just from this, isn’t she?”

“Put your phone between your legs. Let my voice buzz against her while you grind.”

You do. In the middle of the day. On the edge of your childhood bed. With the door locked and your hand clamped over your mouth to muffle the sound of you cumming on command.

Every time you text him, he knows what you need before you say it.

On your knees. Two fingers. Say my name when you finish. That’s all.

You cum like a trained animal.

By the end of the fourth day, you’re overstimulated and aching. Your cunt stays warm. Your clit stays swollen. You can’t think straight without hearing his voice. You can’t fall asleep without a pillow between your legs and your phone under your ear, replaying the way he said your name like it tasted good.

He doesn’t let you get comfortable.

I want her ruined by the time you get back. Wet stains on your thighs. Bruised from your own fingers. No excuses. You belong to me now, yeah?

-

You’re at the dinner table when the text comes in.

There’s a bowl of pasta in front of you. Your uncle’s talking about traffic. Your mom’s pouring more wine. And your phone buzzes in your lap—one tiny, harmless vibration you almost ignore until you see the name on your lockscreen.

Heeseung.

Your chest tightens immediately. A hot ripple runs down your spine. You unlock it under the table, heart already picking up speed, thighs pressed tight together like that’s gonna help anything.

You expect a voice note. Maybe an instruction. Instead, it’s just a single message.

Don’t open this here. I’m serious.

You excuse yourself. Bathroom. You try to walk casually, but your legs feel unstable, like your body knows what’s coming and is bracing for it. You shut the door. Lock it. Sit down on the closed toilet seat. And then you open the message.

It’s not a photo. Not a voice note. Just a block of text.

And it destroys you.

I want you dripping. Right now. I want your thighs sticky. I want your pussy hot and twitching and swollen like she’s just been edged for an hour and she’s still not allowed to cum. I want her pulsing around nothing. Squeezing air. Leaking like she misses my cock even though she’s never had it. That’s how good I want her trained. That she misses me even though I’ve never fucked her. I want you to slide your hand into your panties and feel her spit for me. Feel how filthy she’s gotten just from reading my words. Not even hearing my voice. Just letters on a screen and she’s frothing like a brainless little thing. I want her throbbing. Sore. Pink. Aching. I want you to pull your panties to the side and look at what I’ve done to you. How she opens for nothing. How she clenches for nothing. How she cries, fucking cries, when she doesn’t get touched. I want her messy. Slutty. Wet enough to embarrass you. Wet enough you can’t clean it up with one tissue. Wet enough that if someone walked into that bathroom right now, they’d smell her. No fingers. Not yet. Just pressure. Palm down. Let her hump. Let her grind. Let her get yourself dirty. She knows what to do. She doesn’t need permission anymore. You’re gonna leak down your leg just reading this, aren’t you? She’s already twitching. Already soaking. She knows what she is now. A thing that exists to be used. To be made wet. To be trained.

You stare at your screen. Eyes wide. Chest heaving.

And you feel it—that slow, steady drip.

You slide your hand down between your legs and whimper when your fingers meet your panties—soaked through. Hot and sticky, your folds puffy and swollen, everything throbbing with need.

You spread your legs wider. There’s no stopping it. You have to.

You push your panties aside, just like he said, and when you look down, your cunt is shining. Slick lips parted, clit swollen and begging, a string of wet clinging between your folds when you breathe too hard.

You cup her with your whole palm and rock once.

You grind again. Harder. The heel of your hand pressing directly on your clit. Your hips move faster, panting now, forehead pressed against your bent knee as your pussy humps your own hand like she’s starved.

You’re fucking yourself with no fingers. Just pressure. Just filth. Just his words rotting your brain and your pussy loving it.

You don’t stop until your legs lock, jaw clenched tight to muffle the moan that rips through your throat. Your pussy convulses, grinding down hard, cumming in waves against your own palm until you’re crying silently, thighs soaked, panties a mess, body twitching from the force of it.

When it’s over, you’re wrecked. You sit there in silence. Breathing heavy. Panties still pulled to the side, hand drenched, cunt gaping and twitching like she’s still looking for him.

You snap a photo.

Not of your face. Just your hand. Soaked. Ruined. Slick covering your wrist, dripping down your knuckles.

You send it. No caption. A minute later, his reply lights up your screen.

That’s how she’s supposed to look. Every day until you get home.

-

You don’t even knock.

You could, but what’s the point? He told you to come over as soon as you got back. No texts. No warning. Just a short message yesterday night:

You better show up dripping.

And you are.

The shorts you wore are damp at the crotch, your hoodie clinging to the sweat on your lower back. Every shift of your thighs against the car seat on the drive over made you squirm. By the time you’re standing in front of his door, your cunt is throbbing. Empty. Trained. Starving.

He opens it like he already knew you were there.

Barefoot. Hoodie. Nothing underneath.

He stares at you for a second, quiet. His eyes drop to your legs, to the way you’re fidgeting, clenching, trying not to press your thighs together. He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t speak.

Just opens the door wider and lets you in.

You step past him. Silent. Heat prickling under your skin. His presence is loud, even without words. You can feel the pressure building already—your pussy knows. She’s aware. Aware of the air, of the scent of him, of how close he is now after five days of only hearing him through a speaker.

He closes the door behind you. And waits.

You turn to him, hands still curled into your sleeves. “I did everything.”

He lifts a brow. “Yeah?”

You nod. Swallow hard. “Every day.”

Heeseung steps forward slowly. Stops in front of you. His eyes flick down, over your body, like he’s looking for confirmation.

“You leaking?”

Your breath catches. “Yes.”

“Prove it.”

Your heart slams against your ribs. But you don’t hesitate.

Your fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts and tug them down in one smooth motion. They hit the floor and you step out of them, bare underneath, thighs sticky and glistening. Your hoodie barely covers your hips now. One inch higher and he’d see everything.

He doesn’t touch you.

“Show me,” he says, voice low.

Your breath hitches again—but you drop to your knees. Not because he asked. Because your body knows what to do now.

You kneel between his feet on the hardwood floor, hands moving to part your thighs so he can see. You pull the hoodie up to your waist and slide two fingers between your folds—dripping. It spreads so easily. Glossy. Viscous. Your pussy folds open for your own touch like it’s nothing new. Like she’s been practicing all week.

You keep your eyes on him the whole time.

And when your fingers come back up, soaked and glistening, you hold them out. Heeseung watches you in silence.

Then leans forward, slow and deliberate. He takes your fingers into his mouth and sucks—deep, slow, tongue curling around them like it’s a reward.

Your hips jerk slightly. Your cunt clenches hard. He pulls off with a wet pop and stares down at you.

“She tastes trained.”

You nod.

“She beg yet?”

You exhale. “She never shut up.”

He clicks his tongue. “Yeah?”

Then he grabs your jaw. Fingers firm but not rough, tilting your face up to his.

“You want her filled?”

You nod again. “Please.”

“Not yet,” he says. “She’s not ready.”

“I’m ready—she’s so ready, I’ve been—”

“I don’t care what you think. You’re not here to make decisions. You’re here to do what I say.” He lets go of your face. “You wanna get fed? Earn it. Lay down. Show me how she begs.”

You scramble onto the bed.

Flat on your back. Legs spread. Cunt on display. Dripping.

You’re already on your back, knees drawn up, thighs spread and trembling, cunt pulsing with heat that’s been building all week. You don’t try to hide it. You can’t. Your pussy’s wet. Loud. Lips glossy and parted, folds flushed and twitching like she knows the moment has finally come. She’s been teased. Trained. Denied. You’ve been filling her with fingers and pressure and your own voice, but never this. Never him. And now he’s standing at the edge of the bed, staring down at you like he’s finally ready to eat.

But he doesn’t touch you first.

He picks your shorts up off the floor, turns them inside out—and finds your soaked panties tangled in the legs. He peels them out slowly, sticky with your slick, the thin fabric darkened and clinging to itself. You watch, breath caught, legs still open, burning with shame as he brings them up to his face.

And sniffs.

Deep.

He inhales like it’s a fucking ritual. Eyes half-lidded. Thumb pressing into the crotch to smear the wetness around before dragging it across his lip. His tongue flicks out—tastes it.

“Jesus fuck,” he mutters under his breath. “She’s been marinating in this.”

Your body jolts. Your hands fist the sheets.

“She’s loud, too.” His voice drops lower. “I haven’t even touched her and she’s already talking. Look at her. Fucking twitching. Dripping. Spreading herself open like she knows who she belongs to.”

“Heeseung—” You whimper.

“Shut up.”

He tosses your panties to the side and climbs onto the bed, slow and smooth, eyes never leaving your cunt. He settles between your legs and just kneels there for a moment. Breathing her in. Hands on your thighs. Pushing them wider. Spreading you so open you can feel the air hit your slick.

You’re soaked. You know it. You can feel it, the slick sliding down into the dip of your ass, the way your folds part with every breath, your clit poking out, hot and swollen.

He just stares.

“You fucking trained her like this,” he mutters, almost to himself. “You really did it. Came like a good little slut every night just to keep her hungry.”

“She’s starving,” you whisper, voice shaking.

“I can see that.”

His thumbs press into the crease of your thighs, holding you open. His face lowers. Inches away. His breath hits your folds and your hips twitch violently.

He doesn’t lick you.

Not yet.

He just hovers. His nose skims your inner thigh. Then up. Right up the slick slit, dragging his breath across your folds until your body shudders. He breathes her in again—this time slower. Longer. Right at the source.

“God,” he mutters. “She fucking smells like obedience.”

You sob.

And then he spits.

Right on your pussy.

Hot. Heavy. Messy.

It splashes over your clit, drips between your folds, mixes with your slick and makes everything worse.

Your hips roll. You can’t stop it.

“Don’t you fucking move,” he growls. “She’s getting attention. She better stay still.”

And finally—finally—his tongue drags up your slit. A long, slow lick from hole to clit that ends with his mouth wrapped around it, sucking hard.

Your hands fly to his hair. Your spine arches off the bed.

But he pins you with one forearm across your stomach and doesn’t stop.

He eats you like a man starved. Like you’ve been feeding her for him. Keeping her ready. Keeping her needy. His mouth is everywhere—tongue licking up everything you’ve been saving, spit and slick and mess pooling under your ass while he moans into you.

“That’s it,” he groans against your clit. “Let me taste five fucking days of begging.”

You cry out, thighs clenching.

But he slaps your pussy with his hand—sharp, wet, punishing.

“Open.”

You go limp. You can’t fight it. You don’t want to.

He eats you like it’s personal. Tongue flat. Licking. Circling. Spitting again. Your clit’s too swollen, too sensitive, but he doesn’t care. He mumbles into you—filth you can barely understand because he’s too focused on devouring.

“She’s so fucking loud. She won’t shut up. You hear that?”

You do.

Your pussy makes noise with every lick—squelching, wet, obscene.

“I didn’t even fuck her yet,” he growls. “And she’s already creaming.”

You try to cum. You try.

But he pulls back just as your thighs start to shake, just as your stomach seizes.

“Nope. She’s not getting fed all the way until I’ve felt her on my cock.”

You nod frantically, fingers gripping the sheets, desperate.

Heeseung leans back, licking his lips, chin soaked, eyes wild.

“She’s ready,” he says. “She’s starving.”

He’s already got two fingers hooked inside you when he tells you to open your mouth.

Not to kiss him. Not to speak. Just to take it.

He shoves his fingers past your lips—soaked in your own slick, the same fingers he’s been curling deep inside your cunt, dragging against that spot that makes your eyes roll back. You gag around them, moaning as the taste floods your tongue—salty, sour, yours. He pushes them down onto your tongue, presses hard until your spit leaks out around them and drips down your chin.

“Swallow it,” he mutters, eyes locked on your face. “That’s what obedience tastes like.”

You do. Of course you do.

Because you’d do anything he says.

And he knows it.

He wipes the slick from your lips with his thumb, drags it down your throat, then shifts forward—kneeling between your trembling thighs, lining himself up with your soaked entrance like he’s been waiting years for this moment.

You stare down at his cock, thick and flushed and leaking at the tip, and your whole body tenses. You’re already open, already dripping, already fucked dumb—but none of it’s going to prepare you for this.

“Look at her,” he mutters under his breath, dragging the head of his cock through your folds, smearing pre-cum across your clit. “She’s fucking begging.”

“She wants it,” you pant, voice shaking. “Please—”

He doesn’t give you time to finish.

He presses in—slow, deep, cruel.

The stretch hits you all at once. Your back arches. Your breath leaves you in a choked gasp, and your pussy clenches hardaround him, sucking him in inch by inch like she never wants to let him go.

“Ohhh, fuck,” he groans. “She’s trained alright.”

You moan. Loud. Desperate. Writhing beneath him as he bottoms out, his hips flush against your ass, his cock buried all the way to the base.

She’s full.

Finally fucking full.

Your cunt grips him tight, fluttering around his cock like she’s been starving for it—and she has. Every inch of him hits something you didn’t know existed. Your body shakes under the pressure. You’re soaked. Stuffed. Used. And you want more.

“Say it,” he growls. “Say what she is.”

“She’s yours,” you gasp. “She’s a hole—your hole—she’s been waiting for this—”

He pulls out halfway, then slams back in.

You scream.

“You’re goddamn right she’s mine,” he snarls. “You trained her just to take my cock.”

You nod frantically, crying now, pleasure too thick in your throat to hold back.

He starts to fuck you in earnest—hard, relentless, loud. Skin slapping skin. His cock slick from your wetness, dragging through every twitch and squeeze, pressing deep, deeper, forcing your body to stay open for him. You feel it in your stomach. Your spine. Your fucking brain.

Every thrust knocks your thoughts loose. And you want to thank him. You want to feel him. You want to taste him.

So you lift your head—try to kiss him.

You lean up, lips parting, mouth open and begging.

He pulls back.

His hand grabs your throat, presses you flat into the mattress. You gasp, eyes wide, blinking up at him in confusion. He smiles. Cruel. Mocking.

“No,” he says coldly. “You don’t deserve to be kissed.”

Your breath shatters.

“Kisses are for good girls,” he spits. “You’re just a trained little hole.”

Your pussy clenches around him so violently he groans.

“That’s all you are now, isn’t it?” he sneers. “A stupid little cunt that opens on command. You get used, not kissed.”

Tears spill over your cheeks.

And you cum. Just like that.

From the words. From the shame. From the humiliation.

Your pussy spasms around his cock, soaking both of you as you scream into his hand still wrapped around your throat. Your hips jerk. Your vision goes white. But he doesn’t stop.

He fucks you through it, hips pounding, cock punching into your oversensitive cunt like he’s trying to reprogram you from the inside out.

“That’s it,” he pants. “Let her milk me. Let her show me how much she needed this.”

You’re sobbing. Gasping. Too wrecked to speak.

“Fucking knew it,” he groans. “You were never gonna be satisfied until you got split open.”

He leans down, mouth right by your ear.

“But don’t ever reach for a kiss again. Sluts like you don’t get kissed.”

You’re already limp when he flips you.

Your body gives out so easily—shoulders pressed into the mattress, arms numb, legs trembling, hips cocked up on instinct the second he yanks you onto your stomach. His hands drag you by the waist like a ragdoll. Like something boneless, brainless, ruined. Your face is buried in the pillow. Your cheek sticks to the fabric. You’re crying, still, but there’s no shame left. Just the raw ache of your cunt pulsing around nothing—because he pulled out.

You whine, pathetic and wordless, hips rolling back into the air, leaking down your thighs.

“Still hungry?” he mutters behind you.

You nod into the pillow.

“Say it.”

“She’s empty,” you whimper. “She’s twitching—she wants you back in—she’s not done—she’s never done—”

You gasp when the head of his cock slides back in. Just the tip.

He doesn’t give you the rest.

You wiggle. Cry. Press your ass back against him and moan when your folds stretch again, split open all over his length.

“You trained her to take it,” he says. “Now you’re gonna train her to keep it.”

He presses forward.

His cock buries to the hilt in one brutal thrust, and your whole body spasms. Your hands claw at the sheets. Your cunt clenches so violently it forces a sob out of your chest, high-pitched and broken. You’re still sensitive. Still throbbing from the last orgasm. But he doesn’t care.

He starts fucking you again like he owns you.

The slap of skin echoes in the room, wet and obscene, his cock pounding into your raw pussy like she’s just a hole to conquer. You don’t even try to move anymore. Your body takes it. Open, obedient, used.

“You like that?” he pants. “You like being my little fucktoy?”

“Yeah, you do. You’re trained now. A good little cocksleeve who comes when she’s told. Cries when she’s full. Cums from being humiliated.”

“I do,” you choke out. “I’m yours—I’m your toy—just your fucktoy—use me—use her—”

“That’s it,” he growls. “That’s what she wanted, isn’t it? Not kindness. Not kisses. Just cock. Just someone to shove it in and remind her she’s nothing but a messy, wet little pussy.”

He thrusts harder. You scream into the sheets.

“She’s so loud,” he snarls. “So fucking wet. She’s gushing. Every time I pull out she cries.”

You don’t even recognize your own voice when you cum again.

It’s raw. Ugly. Loud.

You scream—clawing at the sheets, nails ripping fabric, your body wracked with spasms as you squirt all over his cock, wet exploding out of you in waves, soaking the bed, your stomach, your thighs. You can’t stop it. You don’t want to.

He fucks you through it—harder.

“Let her break,” he growls. “Let her fucking split.”

And when your body finally collapses, hips falling, spine trembling, Heeseung doesn’t even slow down.

He grabs your hips, hauls you up, and drives in deep one more time—and stays there. His cock pulses inside you. Thick. Hot. Flooding you.

You feel it. You feel his cum shoot deep, thick ropes filling your already ruined pussy until your belly aches with it.

He stays inside. Keeps you cockwarmed, plugged full, hands rubbing down your spine like this is the aftercare.

Not words. Not love. Just being kept full. Like you should be.

You barely breathe. Your eyes are glassy. Your mouth’s open. You feel him lean over you. Feel the slow drag of his lips against your ear.

“You’re not starved anymore,” he whispers. “She’s fed now. Finally.”

You nod. Barely. Weak. Fucked out. His cock twitches.

“She’s still twitching,” he murmurs. “She wants to sleep like this.”

-

You wake up to the burn in your thighs.

The stretch. The ache. That slick-dried, too-sensitive sting between your legs from being filled for hours without a break. Your skin’s flushed. Clammy. You shift slightly under the covers, still half-asleep, and you feel it—him.

Still there. Still inside you.

You blink. Breathe. Try to make sense of your body—but the pressure between your legs is still warm. Your cunt clenches instinctively, and his cock twitches in response.

A slow, deep ache spreads in your gut.

His arm is draped over your waist. His chest is pressed against your back. He’s asleep—soft breaths on your shoulder, jaw resting against the side of your head. And his cock is still buried to the base in your pussy. Warm. Heavy. Plugging you full like it belongs there.

But something else creeps in too.

You lie there for a moment. Silent. Still. Pussy fluttering, heartbeat slowing, and that awful little ache growing in your chest. The one that started the second he pulled away last night. The one that settled into your ribs when you reached for him and he said “You don’t deserve to be kissed.”

You swallow. You whisper it before you even think about it.

“Are you really not gonna kiss me?”

It’s soft. Not needy. Just… there.

His breath shifts against your skin. His arm tightens slightly around your waist.

You almost regret asking.

Until he exhales through his nose and mutters, voice rough and low and real, “I’m still fucking inside you, you brat. You think I’m gonna spend the whole night cockwarming my favorite pussy and not kiss her in the morning?”

You twist under him, face flushed, and turn your head over your shoulder—and his mouth is already there.

No hesitation. He kisses you hard.

Mouth slanting over yours, tongue sliding in with no patience, lips full and hot and filthy with morning breath and spit. You moan into it, deep and broken, cunt clenching around his cock again like she’s reacting to the kiss like it’s touch.

His hand grips your jaw, thumb dragging over your cheek as he devours your mouth. He licks into you like he means it—like you’ve earned it—like he’s been wanting to do it since before he ever called you a slut.

You’re whimpering into his mouth when it happens.

Your lips slide against his, sticky with spit, your breath still uneven from how long you spent crying into the pillow, your cunt still fluttering weakly around his cock. He hasn’t pulled out. He’s still inside you. Still twitching, half-hard again already, thick and warm, stretching your still-leaking pussy while your body curls back into him, needy and clingy and soft in a way you didn’t get to be last night.

His hand cups your jaw now. Gentle. Finally. His thumb drags along your lower lip, slow and possessive, like he’s re-learning your mouth after denying it. His tongue pushes into you with unhurried filth, and your hips shift just barely, like your cunt’s trying to pull more of him in. Like she doesn’t even know how to be empty anymore.

And then you hear it.

“Heeseung?”

It’s distant. Not loud. Sleepy. But your blood freezes.

“Hey—have you seen Y/N?”

Evie. She’s awake. The breath dies in your throat.

Your eyes fly open. Heeseung’s hand freezes on your jaw. Your whole body locks. His cock is still deep inside you, softening now, but still heavy. Still leaking. You can feel him dripping down your inner thighs as your brain flips inside out with panic.

“Shit,” you mouth, barely audible.

Heeseung exhales through his nose, calm, but his arm is already tightening around your waist like he’s trying to figure out his next move in real time.

“Y/N?” she calls again. “Where’d you go?”

You scramble out of the bed like you’ve been shot. Legs wobbly. Pussy sore. You trip over the blanket as you reach for your discarded clothes, yanking your hoodie on over your head, trying not to scream as your shorts catch on your ankle. You’re still soaked, your panties still twisted around your thigh from where he shoved them earlier, and you can feel his cum still inside you, wet and hot and fucking obvious.

Heeseung’s already sitting up, dragging his hoodie on, running a hand through his hair to make it look like he just woke up.

You’re panicking. “Do I go back to her room? What do I do—what if she’s in the hallway—?”

Heeseung stands up, grabs your shoulders, kisses your forehead once—quick, mocking, cocky—like this is funny to him.

“Bathroom. Now.”

You sprint for it. Just as he opens his door.

His voice is casual. Sleep-rough.

“Yo.”

“You seen Y/N? I woke up and she wasn’t in bed. Her stuff’s still there though.”

Heeseung stretches in the doorway, voice smooth as fucking silk.

“Nah, haven’t seen her. She probably went to the bathroom.”

“She didn’t text me.”

“She probably didn’t want to wake you.”

You’re crouched in the bathroom, hands over your mouth, hoodie soaked at the hem, thighs still trembling. You glance down and see a smear of his cum on your leg, glistening in the morning light like a neon sign of guilt.

“Whatever. Tell her I’m making pancakes.”

“Will do.”

Door shuts. Heeseung turns, leans into the bathroom, finds you crouched by the sink.

“You owe me.”

You punch his chest.

He grabs your wrist. Kisses it.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers, voice low. “You’ll pay me back tonight."

-

It’s early.

Evie’s downstairs making coffee. You can hear the clinking of mugs, the stupid hum of whatever playlist she plays when she’s in a good mood.

You’re in Heeseung’s lap. Hoodie on. No underwear. His back’s against the headboard, his cock deep inside you, and you’re grinding slowly—hips circling, cunt fluttering, hands pressed to his chest to keep yourself upright.

You’re not allowed to bounce. Not allowed to moan.

Just slow, controlled rolls—like you’re milking him without giving yourself away.

“You sound like you want her to know,” he whispers against your throat.

You shake your head. Breathe through your nose. Keep moving.

“Then be quiet, baby. Or I’ll hold your mouth and your hips still, and you won’t cum at all.”

You almost cry. He grabs your ass. Tilts your hips just right.

“If she walks in, you better keep her name off your lips while I fill you up.”

You do. Barely.

You cum with your hand clamped over your mouth, twitching around his cock like you were made for it—and Heeseung cums seconds later, low and quiet, mouth on your collarbone.

Downstairs?

Evie sings along to the chorus.

-

It’s disgusting.

There’s no other word for it.

You’re on all fours, face buried in Heeseung’s mattress, drooling, moaning, thighs trembling with every wet squelch of his fingers plunging into you from behind. His mouth is glued to your cunt, spit running down his chin, tongue working your clit in slow, sloppy laps while one hand spreads you open—and the other, lower, slick with your cum, is rubbing tight circles around your asshole.

You’re whining his name. Filthy. Wordless. Brain-melted.

“Fuck, she’s drooling for it,” he mutters into your pussy. “She wants both. She’s ready. One in her ass, two in her cunt—you wanna be stretched like a proper little hole, huh?”

Your face is soaked. Your body’s trembling. Your pussy flutters around his fingers, slick squelching with every slow drag in and out. Your rim clenches, raw and wet from the friction. You try to answer, but all that comes out is a pathetic sob.

“Say it,” he growls. “Say what she wants.”

“I want it,” you gasp, voice cracking. “I want you to open my ass—wanna be full, wanna cum like a fucktoy—please—please—”

And then—

“Y/N?”

You hear your name like it’s being spoken through a tunnel.

You freeze.

Every muscle in your body locks.

Heeseung doesn’t move.

You can feel his tongue hovering right at your clit. His finger is still circling your asshole.

And then you both look up.

In the doorway. Mouth open. Eyes wide. Chest heaving.

Evie.

Her face doesn’t go red. It goes white. Like her blood just dropped to her feet.

She stares at your body—at your back arched, knees wide, your ass open, Heeseung’s hand buried between your cheeks, your best friend’s brother with his mouth on you and your spit in his beard.

And then she gags. Audibly. Violently.

Her whole body jolts forward like she’s about to puke right there in the hallway.

“Oh my—fucking—god—” she chokes. “What the—what the FUCK—”

She turns. Presses her palm to the wall. Leans into it. Her other hand clamps over her mouth and you see her shoulders jerk. Once. Twice. A horrible, broken sound crawls out of her throat.

“No—no—no—no, no, no—”

She’s panicking.

Can’t breathe. Her body is shaking so hard you think she might collapse.

“Evie—” you start, voice already wet. “Evie, please—please just listen—”

“DON’T.”

The scream hits like a slap.

“Don’t talk to me. Don’t—don’t even say my fucking name—”

You’re sobbing now. Reaching for the blanket. Falling off the bed. Barely able to pull your hoodie down over your sticky, twitching body.

Heeseung moves. Not fast enough. Still shirtless. Still hard. His fingers still glistening.

“Heejoo—”

“DON’T. CALL ME THAT.” Her voice is shrill, raw, wrecked. “You’re my fucking brother.”

She looks at you. Like she doesn’t even know you.

And then her expression cracks completely.

Her face contorts—pain, betrayal, disgust, hatred—all in one devastating collapse.

“You were inside her,” she whispers, and her voice breaks. “You had your—your—you were licking her while you were fingering her ass—”

“You’re both fucking insane.”

You crawl toward her. Not thinking. Just begging. Your knees burn. Your hands shake.

“Evie—please—please just let me explain—”

She flinches.

Flinches.

Like your voice touched her skin. Then she goes still. Her breathing slows. Her hands drop to her sides.

She looks empty.

“Don’t come near me.”

Her voice is flat now. Robotic.

“Don’t talk to me. Don’t look at me. Don’t even fucking breathe in my direction.”

You can’t speak. Can’t move. She steps back.

Looks at Heeseung. Then at you.

“You’re both dead to me.”

-

​​You don’t remember the walk home.

You don’t remember grabbing your phone, or leaving the house, or what the weather was like. You don’t remember how long you cried, or how many people stared, or how fucking long it took for the heat between your legs to fade into something cold and ugly. You just remember sitting on your bedroom floor—hoodie still wet between your thighs, your underwear balled up in your pocket—and trying to breathe without choking on it.

Because it doesn’t stop. The image. Her face.

Evie, hand over her mouth. Evie, gagging. Evie, stepping back like you were something dirty.

She meant it. Every word.

“Don’t talk to me. Don’t look at me. Don’t fucking breathe in my direction.”

She meant it.

You try to text her that night. You don’t even know what to say. There are three different messages in your drafts: one with just her name. One that says “I’m sorry.” One that says nothing at all.

They don’t send. You’ve been blocked.

He doesn’t text either. You don’t even know if he can.

The silence is so big it feels like a second death. You lie in bed every night with your phone face-up on your pillow, waiting for it to light up with anything. A call. A voice note. Just a name.

It never comes.

But you still feel him. In your body. In your bones.

Every time you try to sleep, your body curls like it’s expecting to be filled.

Some nights you wake up sweating—panting, pussy twitching—because you dreamed of his voice again.

You still miss him. Even after all of it. Even after how it ended.

Even after Evie’s face broke in half at the sight of you—wet, spread open, her brother’s finger sliding into your ass while you begged for more.

You still miss him. And that’s the part that makes you sick.

-

It’s been nearly two weeks since you watched Evie recoil in that doorway, hand clamped over her mouth like she was actually going to vomit.

You can’t erase the memory of her face—how disgust bled into betrayal, how her gaze slid right past you like you didn’t exist, then landed on Heeseung as if he were some twisted stranger in her own home. You tried to bury the image, tried to make it small and unimportant, but it lives in your chest now, swelling every time you breathe.

You haven’t talked to either of them since. Not one word to her, not a single text to him.

It’s as if the world paused on that moment: her voice ripping through the room, your body half-naked, his spit drying on your thighs, your stomach churning with guilt.

Now the doorbell rings, and somehow you already know who’s on the other side.

You open it slowly, hesitation weighing on every movement of your hand.

Heeseung stands there in a wrinkled hoodie, dark circles stamped beneath his eyes. He looks thinner—like the shape of him has caved in from the inside out. His hair is unstyled, his shoulders hunched, and the way he stares at you feels desperate.

Neither of you speak for a few seconds, the silence pressing into your lungs.

Then you break it, because you can’t handle him looking at you like that. “Why are you here?” Your voice comes out flat, echoing the numbness you’ve been living in.

Heeseung swallows, gaze skittering between your face and the ground.

“I had to see you.”

The words feel like they’re meant to fix something, but all they do is twist the knife. You give a hollow laugh, but there’s no humor in it.

“You already saw enough.”

He exhales shakily, bringing a hand up to scrub at the back of his neck.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” he says, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “I know that’s not—there’s nothing I can—” He trails off, struggling, guilt carved into every line of his face. When he finally speaks again, his voice strains.

“You think we haven’t replayed it a hundred fucking times?” he asks. “The door. The blanket. You moaning. Me—God—we were still fucking with each other right there, even when she—”

“Stop.” Your voice cracks. “Don’t say it.”

“We saw her face,” his voice keeps going, low and fast and pained. “We saw it, and we still didn’t stop, like fucking animals. I see it every time I close my eyes. I hear her say my name like I was never hers, like you were never her friend.”

You speak,

“I can’t look at you without hearing her gag.”

The confession slashes the air, and his lips part like you’ve slapped him.

“I can’t hear your name without remembering what it felt like to be in her house, in her family, doing… that, while she thought I was asleep down the hall.”

For a moment, neither of you breathe. Then he forces himself to speak, voice cracking.

“I know. I fucking know, and I hate that we didn’t let go even when we heard her. I hate that she looked at us like we were monsters. I hate that part of me still wanted to stay inside you, and part of you still wanted me there, when we should’ve both stopped.”

You close your eyes, replaying Evie’s strangled gasp in your head, recalling the numb disbelief that followed when she told you not to speak, not to look, not to fucking breathe in her direction.

“I can’t talk to you,” you whisper, voice trembling despite your best efforts. “I can’t even hear your name without feeling sick.”

He swallows and nods, like he’s been waiting for those exact words. “I’m sorry,” he says, and he sounds like he’s about to shatter. “I won’t—if you never want to see me again, I understand.” He drags in a breath that rattles in his chest. “I just needed to know you were… alive.”

For a moment, you want to ask him if he’s okay too, if he’s been eating or sleeping, if he wakes up sweating like you do. But you lock it down, because you can’t afford to care right now.

“Well,” you say, and your voice is colder than you intend, “now you’ve seen me. Congratulations.”

A faint tremor passes through him, and he nods once. There’s nothing else. No lecture, no pleading. He just steps back, shoulders slumped, and turns away.

-

It happens in the grocery store, of all places. You’re pushing a half-empty cart down the cereal aisle, trying not to think about how much quieter life has been since you lost your best friend and the boy you broke her heart with. You’re scanning the shelves for something to distract you when you catch sight of a familiar figure at the other end of the row. 

Your heart lurches, your fingers tightening on the cart handle as your stomach flips. 

Because there, frowning at the boxes of cereal, is Evie—or Heejoo, or however she wants to be called now. You don’t have time to decide whether you should turn and run or force a hollow smile. She glances up, and your eyes meet. Neither of you moves.

 The aisle feels too narrow. Her cart sits between you, an invisible barrier.

She looks different—her hair is shorter or maybe just pulled back in a careless ponytail, dark smudges under her eyes, shoulders tense. She seems hollowed out in the same way you feel. 

Some part of you wants to say hey or I miss you or please talk to me, but the words dissolve in your throat. She’s the one who steps forward first, letting her cart roll behind her. Her heels click on the tile, echoing your every heartbeat.

“Having fun?” she asks, and it doesn’t sound like a question so much as a thinly-veiled jab.

You grip the handle of your cart, mouth suddenly too dry to speak.

“Evie—”

“Don’t call me that,” she snaps, eyes flicking away like the name itself stings. “You don’t get to pretend we’re okay. You don’t get to act like we’re still friends.”

Her arms fold across her chest, nostrils flaring with each breath, and you feel your own pulse jump in your neck. “I—I’m sorry,” you manage, voice trembling. It’s not enough, you know that.

She scoffs, a breathy, humorless sound. “That’s it? You’re sorry? You think that magically fixes everything?” She gestures sharply, and you notice how tightly she’s clenching her fists. “You screwed around with my brother like it was nothing, and I walked in on—” Her voice breaks, face twisting as she fights off the memory. “I was just the idiot friend who never saw it coming, right?”

Shame flares in your cheeks. You hold your ground, though it hurts to meet her eyes. “I know I betrayed you,” you say. “We—God, I don’t even have the words for how messed up it was. We both knew better. We both let it happen.”

Her hand lifts to cut you off, shaking with the effort. “You think it’s just that you hurt me?” Her voice wobbles between anger and heartbreak. “You hurt him too, you realize that? He was my brother, you were my best friend, and you both blew yourselves up in front of me. Like you had no idea what it would cost.”

Your stomach knots in a way you haven’t felt before. She’s right. It wasn’t just her—it wasn’t just you. It was all three of you, tangling and twisting until it snapped. “I know,” you say more quietly. “And we’re all paying for it. He’s… he’s not okay. I’m not okay. And you’re definitely not okay. There’s no part of this that isn’t broken.”

She lets out a short, bitter laugh. “Do you think that helps? Hearing you say it’s broken doesn’t change the fact that I can’t even look at either of you without wanting to scream.”

You bow your head, voice almost inaudible. “I wish I could take it back.”

She swallows, and for a fraction of a second, the hostility in her eyes flickers with pain. “Well, you can’t.” Her grip tightens on the cart handle until her knuckles whiten, and she exhales shakily. 

“I want my brother back, you know. I want my friend back. But I don’t get either of those things, because you two decided to… to destroy what we had.”

Your throat closes up, tears pricking at your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

She stares for another few seconds, jaw clenched as she holds herself together. Then she moves around you, snatching her cart by the handle, the wheels squeaking in protest. 

“Enjoy the produce,” she mutters under her breath, voice dripping with bitterness as she passes.

-

It doesn’t happen overnight.

 There’s no single conversation that wipes the slate clean, no perfect gesture that makes Evie’s betrayal vanish, no magic wand that repairs the gaping wound in your chest. 

But over time—slow, grudging, step by hesitant step—you all begin to realize that staying in this darkness is killing you. Staying strangers, orbiting the same guilt without looking one another in the eye, is worse than facing the truth. And that truth is messy, fragile, and riddled with scars.

It begins with Evie texting you, late at night, a week after the grocery store encounter. 

Just three words: We need to talk.

You stare at the screen for a solid minute, heart pounding like it’s trying to break out of your chest. 

Your hands shake as you reply, Yeah, okay. 

That’s all. No apology, no second-guessing, just acceptance. You wait for her to say when or where, but she doesn’t text back until the next afternoon, telling you to meet her at the park near her house. 

And then she clarifies: Just you.

You show up after sunset, nerves jangling in every limb, expecting hostility, or silence, or both. 

Instead, you find Evie sitting on a faded wooden bench under a flickering streetlight. She looks smaller than you remember, knees drawn up under her chin, arms hugging herself for warmth. As you approach, you open your mouth to say something—anything—but she holds up a hand, shaking her head.

“Don’t,” she says, voice tight. “Not yet.”

You stand there, awkward and guilty, waiting for her permission to speak.

She lowers her hand and sighs, staring at a patch of dead grass near her feet. “I asked you here because… this is killing me,” she mutters. “Being this angry all the time. Hating you. Hating him. I can’t keep up with it. It’s turning me into someone I don’t recognize.”

Her words break something inside your chest, and your throat goes thick. You sit down on the far edge of the bench, leaving a wide space between you, unsure if you’re allowed to be any closer. “I… I know,” you manage, voice unsteady. “I feel it too. It’s like I’m rotting on the inside.”

She nods once, gaze flicking to you before sliding away again. “I’m not saying I forgive you,” she warns, and you nod, heart pounding. “I’m just saying I don’t want this to be my life anymore. This—rage. It’s not me.”

She exhales, shoulders curling inward. “And I loved you. You were my best friend. And he… he’s my brother, and I loved him too. So how did we all end up here?”

Silence lingers. You fight back tears that threaten to spill. 

“We messed up,” you whisper, voice cracking. “We both did. Me and him. We used your house, your trust, your everything for our own messed-up… needs, and it was stupid and selfish and we ended up shattering everything.” You swallow a lump in your throat. “I know none of that fixes it. But I swear to you, we never wanted to hurt you.”

Evie laughs bitterly, a hollow sound. “Well, you did. And I can’t pretend you didn’t.” 

Her gaze shifts to the distance, to the halo of light under the streetlamp. “But I don’t know if I can keep hating you. Or him.” 

She hesitates, words coming out slow. “I saw him last week. He looked—God, I hardly recognized him. Like a ghost of himself.”

You nod, biting back the urge to defend him or to ask a dozen questions. “He’s… not doing great,” you say simply, remembering his hollow cheeks, the way his voice cracked when he said he couldn’t sleep.

She wraps her arms tighter around herself, rocking slightly. “Neither are we,” she points out. “None of us are okay. And I guess that’s what I’m realizing. That we’re all stuck in the same crater, staring at the same wreckage. Maybe we shouldn’t be trying to fix it on our own.”

Your eyes burn with unshed tears. “What do you want to do?” you ask, feeling the weight of her words press into your chest.

She’s quiet for a long moment. Then she looks directly at you, tears shimmering at the edges of her eyes. “I want us to talk,” she says. “All three of us. In one place. I want us to put it all on the table, no hiding, no running out. Because if there’s any chance of moving forward—together or apart—we have to face it."

“I’ll text him,” she says, voice ragged. “Don’t expect miracles. But I can’t do this alone.”

A teardrop escapes your lashes and slips down your cheek. “Neither can I,” you whisper. “Thank you.”

She doesn’t respond, just stands up and motions for you to follow. 

-

Evie’s living room is dimly lit, and the air feels thicker than it should—as if everything you’ve said to each other in the last hour is still hovering in the space between. Outside, it’s already dark, the muffled hum of passing cars bleeding in through the windows. You’re all drained—physically, emotionally—yet no one moves to leave. Not yet. It’s not finished.

Evie is perched on the armchair, knees drawn close to her chest. You’re on one end of the couch, Heeseung on the other, and there’s still a gulf of guilt and confusion separating you. But you can feel the conversation building toward something bigger than apologies or confessions of regret.

Evie tugs at the sleeves of her sweater. She glances between you and her brother, mouth pinched tight, but her voice is gentler than before.

“I’m not pretending this is easy,” she begins, clearing her throat. “We’ve all hurt each other. I just want to know what you… what you both actually feel.” Her gaze settles on you, question clear in her eyes. “Do you two even care about each other beyond… beyond whatever it was you were doing?”

You swallow, your mouth dry. This is the moment you’ve been pushing down for weeks, refusing to think about. The reason you woke up gasping sometimes, alone in your bed, missing a warmth you never should have craved in the first place. You take a shaky breath, feeling your pulse hammer in your temples.

“I—” you begin, then stop. Your voice wavers, but you force yourself to speak. “I’m in love with him.”

It comes out bare, unpolished, stripped of excuses. You feel the words echo in your chest, leaving you vulnerable. Across the room, Evie’s eyes widen for half a second, and you can see her guard tighten, just a bit.

Heeseung exhales sharply, his head snapping up. You can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. Instead, you focus on the floor, heart pounding.

“I know,” you continue, voice trembling, “that he might not feel the same way. I know we started this all wrong, that I messed up your trust, that I hurt you”—you glance at Evie—“and maybe I don’t deserve a happy ending. But I can’t keep pretending I don’t love him just because I’m ashamed of how we got here.”

Evie inhales like she’s bracing for another blow, her arms tightening around her knees.

“You’re saying you love him, even if he doesn’t love you back?” she asks, carefully, like she’s afraid of the answer.

You let out a breath that feels like it’s been caged in your ribs for months.

“Yes. It’s not… it’s not his responsibility. If it’s one-sided, that’s on me.” You glance fleetingly at Heeseung, face flushing. “I don’t expect anything from him, or from you. I just—” Your voice cracks. “I needed to say it out loud.”

Silence envelops the room, charged with tension. Heeseung is staring at you, eyes wide and glossy, like you’ve knocked the air from his lungs. Evie shifts, chewing on the inside of her lip.

Heeseung finally speaks, voice rough.

“You… love me?”

You manage a small, trembling nod. “I do,” you say, meeting his gaze at last. “And if you don’t love me back, that’s okay. I know how messed up this is. I’m ready to… to accept that.”

He looks startled, as if no part of him expected you to be okay with that possibility. His hands flex on his knees, knuckles blanching. Then he breathes out, shoulders sagging.

“God,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievably stupid.”

You flinch, heart jolting—though there’s no real malice in his tone, only a shaky awe and raw disbelief that seems to be tying him in knots. He forces himself to meet Evie’s eyes for a flicker of a second, as if silently asking for permission to go on.

“Don’t call her that,” Evie snaps, voice quivering at the edges. She fixes him with a sharp glare, arms folded tight across her chest. “I don’t care how you meant it—she’s not stupid, and you don’t get to insult her in front of me.”

“Shut the fuck up Evie, one second,” He turns to you, “Because you think I’m not in love with you? That I’d leave you hanging with all this guilt?”

Your heart stutters, the floor tilting under you. “Heeseung…”

“I’m in love with you too,” he says, and the words hang in the air with tangible weight. “I can’t believe you’d be ready to walk away, believing it was one-sided. That you’d… accept it. God, do you have any idea how much it hurts to see you in so much pain, thinking I don’t feel the same?”

A soft sound escapes your throat—some blend of relief and shock—and tears gather at the edges of your vision. Across the room, Evie exhales shakily, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. You can see the swirl of emotions crossing her features: anger, hurt, jealousy, and underneath it all, a lingering care for you both.

Heeseung scrubs a hand over his face, then looks to Evie, voice trembling.

“I love her. I know I messed up. We messed up. We never should’ve lied. But I can’t take back how I feel.”

Evie drags in a deep breath. She pushes herself up from the armchair, pacing a short line across the living room. Her head is down, hands in her hair. When she finally looks at you both, there’s pain in her eyes, but not the same raw fury as before.

“Jesus,” she mutters. “You two…” She chews the inside of her cheek. “I hate what you did. I hate how you did it. But if you love each other—really love each other—I can’t tell you not to.”

 Her shoulders slump. “I want to be angry forever, but… seeing you like this, I—” She presses her lips together, tears brimming, then sets her jaw. “I guess I just want us to find a way to exist without destroying each other.”

A thick silence fills the space. Your chest feels ready to burst from conflicting emotions—gratitude, guilt, longing, terror. You look at Evie and see the ghost of the best friend you once knew, who might be willing to stand beside you again one day, even if it won’t ever be the same.

You open your mouth.

“I know it won’t be easy,” you say softly. “I don’t expect you to forgive everything in one night. But maybe… maybe we can start moving forward?”

Evie dashes a tear off her cheek and gives a tiny nod.

“Yeah,” she whispers. “Maybe.”

Heeseung watches her, watches you, then rises from the couch. He hesitates, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to touch you. You stand up, heart pounding, and drift closer. Neither of you quite meets in the middle, leaving a careful gap where all your remorse hangs. But it’s less than before.

Evie clears her throat, hugging herself.

“I can’t stay down here with you two being… whatever you are. I need time, okay?”

You nod quickly.

“Of course.”

Heeseung nods as well, voice soft.

“Anything you need.”

She steps back, wiping her eyes, and there’s a hint of a weary smile ghosting across her face, like she’s relieved but not sure how to show it.

“You two can talk, or… or go, or do whatever. I just…” Her breath catches. “I’m gonna go upstairs. That’s all I can handle right now.”

You don’t stop her.

Then you turn to him, tears slipping down your cheeks, a tremulous hope fluttering in your chest. He lifts a hand—tentative, like he’s scared to break you—and cups your cheek, thumb brushing your damp skin.

He exhales shakily.

“I love you,” he murmurs, the words raw with emotion. “I’m sorry for everything.”

You nod, voice catching in your throat as you rest your hand over his.

“I’m sorry too,” you whisper. “But I love you, and maybe… that’s something we can start with.”

His eyes close in something like relief, and he presses a soft, uncertain kiss to your temple. It isn’t a triumphant moment, not the kind of romantic victory you might’ve once imagined. It’s tender, laced with guilt and fear. But it’s also real—genuine and fragile, the only piece of warmth you’ve had in a long time.

-

Things shift slowly, almost imperceptibly at first. You and Heeseung start keeping your distance whenever Evie’s around—no subtle hand-holding, no lingering touches, certainly no sneaking off to lock yourselves behind the nearest door. 

It’s not that you’re ashamed of each other; it’s that you can’t stand the thought of rubbing your relationship in her face. You both know you’re lucky she’s even letting you in the same room without storming out.

So you dial it back. You let your bodies stop running the show. 

It’s harder than you expect—he still sets your nerves on fire by simply looking at you—but you remind yourself that Evie’s feelings matter, that you owe her more than just half-hearted consideration. You give her space, which means giving yourselves space too. 

No sex. No heavy make-out sessions. No pressed-up-against-a-wall confessions. Just… time and gentle contact.

Heeseung seems as restless as you. 

Sometimes, when it’s late and you’re on a phone call—whispering so Evie won’t hear through the walls—he sounds downright desperate. 

You can hear his breath catch when you say you miss him, can practically feel the tension radiating through the receiver. 

Yet both of you agree: this is how it has to be for now. If you want Evie to believe that what you have is more than just an addiction to each other’s bodies, you need to show her you can exist outside a bed.

So you go on dates. Real dates. Movie theaters, yes, but also bookstore trips, late-night drives to nowhere, strolling through a local fair when it rolls into town. 

You hold hands only if you’re well away from Evie’s neighborhood—fearful that any small sign of affection might break the thin thread of tolerance she’s extended. 

The first time you walk along the riverside in the evening, sipping cheap coffee from a convenience store, it hits you that you’ve never really done this part before: the tentative, day-to-day romance of building a real relationship. It’s both comforting and nerve-wracking. 

You can feel the charge sparking under your skin every time he smiles at you, like you’re seconds away from losing your careful resolve. 

But you don’t. Neither of you wants to risk undoing the fragile progress with Evie.

And that progress is slow, but present. 

She doesn’t cringe as much when you and Heeseung enter a room together. 

She no longer flinches if you happen to stand on the same side of the kitchen.

 Maybe sometimes she rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t snap. You see the tension in her shoulders when you’re all in the same space, though—like she’s bracing for some new betrayal. 

You can’t blame her. You still offer to leave the moment you sense her discomfort rising. Surprisingly, she’s started telling you to stay.

But the real sign that things might be healing comes one weekend night when Evie texts you, out of the blue:

Girls’ night?

She doesn’t dress it up with a cute emoji or an explanation; it’s bare bones, almost clinical. And you stare at your phone with your heart hammering, wondering if this is a test, or maybe a begrudging olive branch. 

You answer with a shaky yes, and spend the next few hours trying not to read too much into it. You tell Heeseung you’ll be hanging out with Evie, and he just smiles—wide and genuine, telling you to have fun, to text him if you need anything.

Evie’s room hasn’t changed much since the night you snuck out of it to see Heeseung. The layout is the same, the posters the same, the bedspread the same. It all feels loaded with history. 

She sits cross-legged on her bed, handing you a soda—no alcohol tonight, no false bravado. You sense she wants you both stone-cold sober for whatever might be said. 

There’s an awkward pause, and then she gestures for you to sit, too.

For a while, conversation comes in bursts: updates about random classmates, stories from her day at work, small talk about the show you both used to binge-watch together. It’s stiff, but not hostile. 

She picks at her blanket, and you notice how she won’t hold your gaze for too long. Yet each minute that passes without snapping or bitterness feels like a victory.

Eventually, she slides a bag of nail polish across the bed toward you. “You, um… you still like doing this, right? It’s been a while,” she mumbles, glancing at your nails. 

It’s such a small gesture, but it makes your throat tighten. You nod, and she exhales something that might be relief. 

For a solid hour, the two of you paint and chatter, as if practicing how to be friends again. Her shoulders are less rigid. You’re careful not to misstep. Neither of you mentions Heeseung.

At least not directly. But you feel his presence in the air, the unspoken pivot point around which your every interaction revolves. It’s only when Evie finally fixes you with a long, assessing look, half-concern and half-uncertainty, that the moment arrives.

“Are you two, like… okay?” she asks. Her voice is laced with discomfort, but there’s no hatred in it. “You said no more sneaking around. But are you—happy?”

You swallow hard, carefully blowing on your newly painted nails. “We’re… doing our best,” you say. “Trying to be good for each other. Not just physically.”

She nods, lips twisting like she’s turning over your words in her mind. “I guess… that’s what I wanted to know,” she admits softly. “It still weirds me out sometimes, but I’d rather it matter to you than be some… fling.”

A wave of gratitude surges in your chest, making it hard to speak. You nod. “It matters,” you whisper. “I swear.”

She blinks a few times, then sets her nail polish aside. The tension in her shoulders relaxes just enough that her spine curves against the headboard, more comfortable than you’ve seen her in weeks. “Good,” she murmurs, tone stilted but earnest. “Don’t… don’t make me regret trying to rebuild this, okay?”

Your own shoulders slump in relief. “I won’t,” you promise. Your voice shakes with the weight of it. “And if I ever do, you can—and should—kick my ass.”

That draws a small, genuine laugh from her—a sound you haven’t heard in what feels like ages. She nods, letting the humor fill the space that was once suffocating with tension. “Deal,” she says.

You stay up later than expected—talking about nonsense, painting your nails in mismatched colors, occasionally lapsing into awkward silences. 

But each time, one of you breaks it before the air can go stale. By the time midnight rolls around, you’ve settled into a strange new normal: not quite what you were before the betrayal, but not strangers anymore. Something between you is mending, fragile but real.

When you leave, she walks you to the front door. It’s still weird, stepping out into the hallway where so much damage happened. 

But Evie’s behind you, not in front, and you can’t help feeling that the dynamic has changed in a way that actually might last. You glance back at her, and though she still looks tired, she doesn’t look hostile or betrayed. Maybe just… cautious. It’s enough.

“Night,” she says, one hand resting on the doorknob.

“Night,” you reply, voice quiet. “Thanks, again.”

She nods and closes the door gently behind you—no slamming, no huffing. Just a simple, private goodbye.

 As you slip into the night, you realize you’re smiling, mind already whirring with what you’ll tell Heeseung when you see him next. You catch yourself wondering if you’ll meet up for another date soon. Or if you’ll just call him on the way home, excitedly spilling the details of your slow but tangible progress with Evie.

-

The new place is barely furnished. A couch that’s still covered in plastic. A mattress on the floor. Takeout containers littering the kitchen counter. The floorboards creak with every step. The windows are wide open, and there are no curtains yet. It’s not home—not really—but it’s his. 

And most importantly, it’s finally, blessedly, fucking private.

When he opens the door and lets you in, he doesn’t kiss you right away. He just watches you step inside like you’re something he’s trying to memorize. His hands stay in the pocket of his hoodie. His jaw’s tight. His eyes flicker to the bag in your hand, then to your shoes, then up your legs so slowly it makes you feel exposed even though you’re still fully dressed.

You don’t say anything at first. You set the wine down on the counter. You take in the space—empty and echoing—but your skin’s already buzzing. You hear the door close behind you with a soft click, and something shifts.

He clears his throat.

“I haven’t kissed you yet,” he says, voice low. “Not really.”

You turn to look at him. “No.”

There’s a beat.

“Can I?”

You nod.

And that’s it. That’s all it takes.

His hands are on your face before you can blink, warm and rough and needing. The kiss starts soft, but only for a breath. Then it turns—hungry, desperate, filthy. Your back hits the counter with a thud, his tongue already in your mouth, his body pressing into yours like he’s trying to crawl inside you through your lips.

You moan into him, and he groans, deep in his throat, like the sound broke whatever shred of self-control he was hanging onto.

“You have no idea,” he pants, mouth hot against your jaw, “how long I’ve wanted to ruin you in peace.”

Your shirt’s pulled up before you can answer, his mouth already sucking marks down your neck. His hands are everywhere—gripping your tits through your bra, unbuttoning your jeans, fingers slipping into your waistband like he owns the place. Like he owns you.

You gasp as his hand slides between your legs, cupping you through your underwear, his breath catching when he feels the heat there.

“Already wet?” he mutters, voice ragged. “Fucking knew it.”

He yanks your jeans down to your ankles, then sinks to his knees on the kitchen tile without another word. His hands push your legs apart, pulling one up to rest over his shoulder. And when his mouth presses to the soaked fabric of your panties, you cry out—sharp, helpless, needy.

“You wore these knowing I’d take them off with my teeth, didn’t you?” he growls, dragging the fabric aside with his nose, his tongue already lapping through your folds like he’s been waiting for this for months.

You can barely breathe. One hand flies to the counter for balance, the other fists in his hair. He licks you with obscene, wet sounds, groaning into your pussy like the taste is sending him over the edge. You grind against his face shamelessly, whining when he flattens his tongue and drags it up through your slit, over and over again.

“Fuck, Heeseung—please—”

He pulls back just enough to spit directly on your clit. “What do you need, baby?” he pants, thumb spreading it around with tight, deliberate pressure. “You want me to make you cum with my mouth like a good little whore? Is that it?”

You nod frantically, hips rocking against his hand.

“I missed this pussy,” he mutters, diving back in. “Missed how fucking loud she is.”

And she is. Your pussy’s wet, sloppy, noisy, every flick of his tongue echoing off the bare walls. You cum hard, legs shaking around his shoulders, crying out his name as your vision blurs.

But he’s not done.

He stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, then grabs you by the waist and turns you around, bending you over the counter.

“No more pretending,” he growls in your ear. “No more quiet. You’re gonna scream for me this time.”

He pulls your panties down and spreads you open, groaning like a man unhinged.

“God, you’re dripping. You fucking missed this too, didn’t you?”

You try to answer, but he’s already stroking his cock against your folds, rubbing the head through the mess between your legs, smearing it everywhere.

“Say it,” he demands.

“Yes—yes, I missed it—fuck, Heeseung, I missed your cock—”

He sinks into you in one sharp, brutal thrust, and you wail.

No condom. No pause. Just the stretch of him filling you up in one smooth, devastating stroke.

“Oh my God,” he groans. “You’re fucking swallowing me.”

You’re moaning, writhing, drooling onto the counter. He doesn’t start slow. He doesn’t give you time. He fucks you—relentless, pounding, like he’s been waiting to do this since the moment you first touched him.

Your ass slaps against his thighs with every thrust. Your pussy is loud, the kind of wet, messy squelch that would embarrass you if you could think.

He slaps your ass hard, making you jolt forward. “Listen to her,” he growls. “She’s been crying for me.”

You don’t stop him. You beg for more.

He grabs your arms and pulls you back onto him, using your own body to fuck you harder.

“Keep taking it,” he snarls. “Be my good little cumrag, just like you used to be.”

You scream. You scream for him.

You cum again, sobbing into the crook of your arm, your entire body trembling.

He pulls out and flips you around, lifts you up onto the counter again, and kisses you like he’s devouring you from the inside out. Your legs are trembling so hard you can barely hold them up, but he spreads them open and spits straight onto your cunt, rubbing it in with two fingers, moaning when you jolt at the sensitivity.

“Wanna fuck you on the floor next,” he mutters against your lips. “Wanna fuck you on the mattress, on the couch, against every wall. Wanna ruin this apartment with the sound of your pussy screaming for me.”

You grab his face, breath ragged. “Then do it.”

He throws you over his shoulder and carries you to the mattress on the floor, where he fucks you in every position he’s ever imagined. He keeps you cockdrunk and leaking. When your voice gives out, he fucks you in silence. When your legs stop working, he props them up and keeps going. And when he finally cums—inside you, deep, claiming—he doesn’t pull out.

He just collapses on top of you, both of you drenched in sweat and slick and the aftermath of something feral.

You can’t move.

You don’t want to.

You just lie there, shaking, full, used, satisfied in a way that makes you dizzy.

Heeseung kisses your shoulder and whispers against your skin.

“I’m never being patient again.”

-

TL: @naurwayyyyy @ziiao @somuchdard @ijustwannareadstuff20 @ddolleri @beariegyu @zzhengyu @annybah @seonhoon @elairah @dreamy-carat @geniejunn @kristynaaah @zoemeltigloos @mellowgalaxystrawberry @inlovewithningning @vveebee @m3wkledreamy @lovelycassy @highway-143 @koizekomi @tiny-shiny @simbabyikeu @cristy-101 @bloomiize @dearestdreamies @enhaverse713586 @cybe4ss @starniras @wonuziex @sol3chu @simj4k3

[kaitoru]

୨୧ satoru being so damn talkative while hes pounding into you.

overstimulation. dirty talk. cocky gojo. power play. rough.

“nghh- oh fuck- looook at youu-” he groans as he thrusts harder, his hips snapping against your ass with a wet slap that echoes in the room.

his huge dick is stretching your tight cunt to its limits, the head brushing your cervix with every brutal push.

“takin’ this big cock so- mmph- so fuckin’ well, baby” he pants one hand gripping your hip, the other tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to make you moan.

his pace is soo intense fucking you like hes making up for every second hes spent away on missions, and his mouth? its running faster than his hips.

“satoru-” you gasp voice breaking as he hits that sweet spot, your pussy clenching around him, slick dripping down your thighs.

“too- ngh- too much-” you manage, but its drowned out by his laugh all bright and unhinged, like hes having the time of his life.

“too much? ohh- fuck yeah- you love it, dont ya?” he teases, voice slurring with pleasure as he leans down, his chest pressed to your back, lips brushing your ear.

“this greedy little pussy’s- nghh- suckin’ me in so tight, like it cant get enough of my dick.” each word is punctuated by a thrust that makes your vision blur, your moans loud and desperate.

hes not just fucking you—hes performing, every word a spark to your already burning nerves. “sa- toru- slow down-” you try, but hes too far gone, his thrusts picking up speed, the bed creaking like it’s about to snap.

“nmph- no way, baby- oh shit- look at that ass bounce-” he groans his hand smacking your cheek lightly enough to make you yelp.

his voice is pure chaos jumping from praise to taunts to straight-up babbling.

“fuck, you’re so- nghh- so goddamn pretty like this, all fucked out on my cock, arent ya? bet you- fuck- bet you’d let me do this all night.”

“cant- cant take it-” you whimper but your hips push back, betraying you, and he laughs again, all cocky and triumphant, like he’s just won the world’s dirtiest lottery.

“cant take it? bullshit oh fuck- you’re made for this, baby,” he growls his voice dropping low, as he pulls your hair, tilting your head back so he can see your face.

his eyes glint wild and unfiltered, and hes still talking, words tumbling out like a flood.

“nghh- look at those eyes- so fuckin’ needy, wantin’ more of my big dick, huh? say it- mmph- say you love it.”

“love it- fuck, satoru-” you choke out and his grin is blinding, his thrusts growing sloppy as he chases his release, his cock throbbing inside you.

“thats it- oh shit- scream it, baby, let the neighbors know-” he moans and you’re done for, your orgasm hitting like a freight train, a sharp, shuddering wave that has you crying his name, your pussy clamping down so hard he curses, loud and broken.

“fuck- fuck- gonna- nghh- gonna fill this tight cunt up-” he groans and he comes hard, spilling hot and deep inside you, his hips stuttering as he thrusts through it, his voice still going, softer now, all gasps and murmurs.

“So good- mmph- so fuckin’ good for me, baby.” he collapses onto you, sweaty and heavy, but he’s still talking, nuzzling your neck.

“tou talk too much,” you mutter and he smirks, all lazy and satisfied, his hands roaming your body like hes already planning round two.

“only ‘cause you love it,” he murmurs winking, and you roll your eyes, pulling him closer, knowing he will never shut up—and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

© written by kaizer | do not copy plagiarize or translate any.

[screampied]

‘ DICKMATIZED !? ★

☆ sum. dick • matized. [dehk-mah-tized] verb. when he’s rearranging your guts oh-so good that you’re just left utterly dumb ‘n stupid! toji, sukuna, gojo, geto, nanami, choso, ino.

wc. 5.8k

warnings. fem! reader, dick-drunk reader, balls… cum … balls, pwp, unprotected, dumbification, tf! sukuna, feral pússydrunk men, implied multiple rounds, backshots, mating press, cowgirl, nerd! nanami - college au, pússy talk, size kink, first time squīrt, mirror sēx, cervix mentions, spīt, tummy bulges, ‘till the bed breaks, breedīng kink, spanks, petnames.

an. elaborating more from this ask :p

✩ ˛˚ . SUKUNA RYŌMEN.

his dick? literally life-altering. life changing.

not only was sukuna ryomen the king of curses, but he was also the king of dumbing you down with just a few deep vulgar strokes. “attaaaa girl,” he’d grumble—one hand gripping your hip, another clawing near the top crown of your head. but as he’s raising your head, all you see is your dumb, drooling reflection through his stained century-old mirror.

through murky hazed peripherals, you spotted sukuna’s sly grin, with fangs poking through each lip… sinister red eyes zeroing down your body. he was mean but his hips were even meaner. as his hips relentlessly bucked into you, you let out a shrilling shriek once you feel his bulging tip swab its away around the insides of your slobbering cunt. he reached each ‘n every spot, pinpointing every slick dribbling orifice and you could barely even formulate words let alone proper sentences.

“that’s it, look at y’rself,” and a puddle of drool waters past the corners of your lips once sukuna grabs your chin. “hah- look at how dumb you get,” and you let off a moan once sukuna starts to thoroughly punctuate each individual thrust against your aching core. “allll. because. of. me.”

you glance at yourself in the mirror once more, peeking at the notoriously cursed silhouette that’s stood directly behind you. sukuna’s unapologetically ruthless, driving such sharp hips into you with little to no mercy and you only wanted more.

“suh- ooooh! sukuna,” you moan, getting whiplash from the vicious sharp pounds of slamming-ridden flesh. each pap stung against your skin and you’re just trying to keep up with his crazed pace. once his angered cockhead bullies its way near the fluttering opening of your cervix though, your eyes prettily roll. “o- oh my god, r- right th-”

“yeaaah, i know,” he replies gruffly, cutting off your tone by placing an enlarged palm over your wet-glossed lips. followed by a cute muffled, ‘mmmpf’ he scoffs in disgust once he feels you damping the center of his hand with treacly saliva. “keh. how repulsive,” and you whine once sukuna makes your back arch even more against his velveteen-made sheets. trailing a whetted claw gently down the slope of your back, he grunts. “wonder who’s nastier. you—” and he pauses, surprising your cunt with a brutal ricocheting thrust. “—or this sloppy worthless pussy. hnnnm.”

you’re tremoring underneath him, heedlessly trying to count each loud slap of clashing bodies in your head but you end up losing count anyway. his cock’s just as mean as he was, but his girth was far more rude. sukuna ploddingly runs his nails down your spine as he’s just impaling his weighty dick inside of your clamping, sopping walls. “mng- ‘s fuckin’ good. ‘kuna fuck me, fuck m—mmph,” and you moan against a palm that now smacks over your mouth again.

you could hear sukuna scoff behind you, feeling the wetness of your tongue slither its way around his bare hand. “y’er a nasty one,” he groans, glancing at your stupid reflection in the mirror. it was almost cute—how your eyes were all hooded, barely even open but visibly crossed. you’re seeing galaxies of stars as he pounds into your pussy, invading his way past the tight tight ring of your entrance. you’re so wet that your cunt sobs on his length, creating sticky globs of slick that glue against both fleshy mounds. “mhm. keep that pretty mouth shut. all i wanna hear is how fuckin’ messy you get under here,” and you let off another muffled whine once sukuna spreads your knobbly thighs further apart.

he’s so fast, his speed’s as quick as lightening—

and your hand cups over the one that’s currently placed over your mouth. sukuna feels your saliva starting to spill between your lips, wetting down his wrist and he titters. “spit’s supposed to stay in your mouth, dumb girl,” and you could feel yourself reaching closer and closer toward your blissful orgasmic edge. fuck- it was right there, literally arms-reach away and you were already starting to short-circuit. your thighs struggled to stay open and you were sure—just one more single hard thrust and you’d probably break. “aw, your legs are gettin’ weak. tappin’ out, princess?”

“ ‘kuna, ‘m cummin’,” you’d blurt once he removed his hand from your slick mouth. strings of glowy drool depart from your lips, sticking against his fingers before he thrashes the swollen pink head of his cock against your pussy.

repeatedly, it’s not just once or twice—hell, not even thrice!

it’s dozens of times. you let off a plethora of sweetened whines as his reddened tip scrapes its way through your gummy walls before you abruptly squall. “f- fuuuuck!”

a pretty, shiny geyser sprays out between your thighs, and your expression is priceless.

sukuna remained inside as he watched you whine out those needy raw sobs with his shaft still stuffed inside. you couldn’t think straight—you could only taste the treacly sweet tang of your release on your buds as your head flops onto the bed. “o- oh my god,” you’d puff, feeling your wobbly thighs soak with slimy molasses of your sweet. “again,” you moan out, looking up at the mirror to see sukuna staring straight at you.

he’s amused - and your eyes widen once he brings a hand underneath his heavy cock that was stacked with not only one but two..

he was only fucking you with one of his shafts—but now that you see his barred hand wrapping around both, you gulp once he nips his sharp fangs near his teeth. “fine,” he grumbles, and sukuna starts to align each between your sappy opening. sooo wet- it’s a pearly coat that runs down your cunt and he growls under his breath, bedaubing both creamy tips against your tender folds.

“but while we’re at it, little one. let’s see if you can squirt with two of me in you.”

✩ ˛˚ . INO TAKUMA.

first time inside and not only does he make you dumb but he ends up making himself dumb too.

“holy . . shit angel,” ino would lowly moan, reclining fully back against the couch. you’re gradually hovering over his lap while he’s got a clammy hand sneakily creeping at the left side of your waist. “g- god,” and darkened eyes lazer near your cunt. you were so slick. your entrance prettily sobbed with such dewdrops of sap that it had him whipped. ino wanted more, and the more he witnessed your pussy swallow his cock, the more his mouth grew drier than the sahara.

“relaaax, baby,” you invade the corner of his mouth with wet kisses. with how soft your voice was, the sound of your voice alone was enough to make ino’s dick throb — and it did.

his abs tense through his white tank as he feels one of your palms leisurely slide up his sculptured v-line. your touch - it was one of his many, many weaknesses. his first weakness being you . . second, your pretty dripping pussy. “ah, look at me. eyes up here, ino.”

“mhm-” ino grunts, nearly melting at the sickly sweet pounds of flesh clashing amongst each other. once your body started to move, it was game over. slosh after slosh and it only gets louder. ino’s nose cutely wrinkles the second he hears that squelching ‘pop!’

now, he’s bottomed out and it was just a few lengthy seconds after he’d eased himself all the way in. ino was snug - nicely snug and timid heart-filled irises meets yours right away. “you’re s…so gorgeous,” he’d slur, watching his chest deflate at each sloppy thrust of your unsteady hips. “m- might just cum from lookin’ at your face, angel.”

fuck- you rolled your hips in such a way that it had gears turning in his empty, hollow brain.

ino’s flushed, and eventually, two hands grip your waist tightly. he’s trying to reel you into him but you playfully give him a shove, staring as his back collapses back into the pillow. “ngh- ino, there baby. there,” you’d weep out in a sweet whimper. his dick greedily explored through your insides like a maze. almost like it was lost - desperately trying to find its way around before eventually smooching near your cervix. “a- ah!” you’d moan, feeling a vein that ran down his cock throb inside you merely milliseconds later.

the movements of your rutting hips hypnotize ino.

you’re tossing them around in a circle as your arms throw over his broad shoulders. the entire time, he’s getting lost in your eyes. his tip’s an angry red, blushing inside of your tight gripping walls as you sloppily bounce on his lap. perspiring hands squeeze against your waist before you watch as his dark mousy brows crease into a furrow. “baby-” he grunts hoarsely, tilting his head fully back.

it’s cute—and a bit attractive. you spot his neck muscles tense before you suddenly feel ino’s impatient fingers crawl at the pretty curvature of your ass. with a firm grip, he grabs a nice handful of your jerking flesh before hissing under his breath. “o- oh fuck, ‘m gonna cum. keep ridin’ me, ride me good—use me, fuh- fuck me,” and ino’s voice pitched whinier the more your wet cunt sucks him in - vacuuming each ‘n every inch.

the noises were just sloppy. each ‘plop!’ and ‘pap!’ that echo from both bodies sends a wave of chills down ino’s spine. it was a feeling he’s never experienced—and you might have just made him fall in love with not only you but your slickly, wet cunt.

“ ‘s okay, ino. you can c- cum inside,” you whisper breathlessly against the crook of his neck. ino wraps his arms around you, holding you close as your hips rut into him quicker. both bodies moved against each other rhythmically, dexterously twirling your ass back and forth against his lap. ino’s just as dumb as you were—and if you squinted, you could see heart eyes forming in his dilated pupils.

“god- ‘m cummin’ . . fuck- ‘m cumming,” he hiccups, and his entire body erupts.

ino grows limp the minute he feels his leaking tip spurting out rope after rope. it’s hot - you slow down as he’s finally pumping you full, spurting out such thin, miry amounts.

ribbons drizzle inside of you and ino gets quiet, burying his face into your shoulder. babbles of whine fall into the crack of your neck and you smile, skimming a finger down his undercut.

tender, fawn eyes lock onto yours before ino grabs your chin softly. with a pout, he bedaubs a thumb across your wetly parted lips before sighing. he’s in love. “s-soooo . . what are we?”

✩ ˛˚ . TOJI FUSHIGURO.

“awwwh, is the pretty girl gettin’ shy on me?” toji would gruffly croon, feeling your dripping cunt clench tightly around him.

you’re bent over and chewing on the bottom of your lip like candy whilst he’s going in and out of you. masses ‘n wads of milky knots ooze out of your pussy and he takes a moment to gawk at the mess he gifted you. “fuuuck- look at ‘er, ‘m floodin’ her up so good,” and toji grunts, his flushed tip smearing shapes around your runny entrance. “ya take it well every time too, baby.”

“hnng- toji,” you’d whimper, cutely trying to shimmy your hips against him. you always loathed how right after he’s dumping you with the nth load of the night, toji just has to tease you.

with a wide hand, he slaps his fat cockhead against your slobbering slit three times. in a dirty, carnal way though—it’s pretty.

with wrinkles creasing underneath his leafy eyes as he squints, toji drags a thumb down your swollen puffy folds. it’s a loud wet splat! that resounds through his perked ears and you could hear that smug snicker as clear as day. your tummy was already heaving - you wanted more, and toji hummed at the sight of you arching further for him. “don’t stop- f…finish fuckin’ me.”

“how cuuute,” he’d gruff, and you moan once he re-aligns his sweltering hot tip. it’s freshly coated with splotches of cum that was still gradually seeping from the center. messily, it leaks out, and you gasp once he starts to insert his way back in. it’s a sloppy pop! that sends you carnal chills and even a bit of throb. doing so makes you nip a few teeth near the inside of your cheek.

and oh- toji’s so thick.

he’s fat from the inside, along with his girth that delves deep inside of you - disappearing between your folds like an unrevealed magic trick.

every bulky inch that enters inside of your cunt makes your toes shrivel up into a cute, aching curl. every time, you’re left utterly speechless as you hear his husky rasps from behind you. toji runs a hand through his oily scalp before brusquely grunting. “hah- take it then, open nice ‘n wide for me, pretty. let’s see that biiiig stretch one more fuckin’ time,” and a cold sweat races down your back. one thrust! just one cruel, mouth-watering thrust, and you’re left stupid.

dewy remnants of cum streamed out the corners of your thighs and he was practically fucking his cum back into you. loads of it, creamy milky loads that pumped you full, keepin’ you warm—always.

the slanted hooking curve that his dick had swerved its way through your pussy, bruising your g-spot lovingly. but oh- toji doesn’t just fuck nasty, he fucks you stupid with a capital ‘S’.

“fuuuuck, right there, r- right hng- thereeee,” and the way you’d drag your words were so cute. toji’s hips were oh-so mean though, harshly snapping into you and each time the friction whams into you—you’re dumbfounded.

toji spots you trying to crawl away and he raises a brow, hooking a hand near your hip. “goin’ somewhere, girl?” and you moaned, feeling him drag you right back toward his cock. with your mouth idly hung open—you start to feel the slick muck of syrupy juices that globs down the flaps of your cunt. you’re soaked, and toji grunts the second you end up squeezing around his dick. measly thick fingers roam through his scalp as he watches your ass weakly buck back into him. “mhm- that’s it, park that pussy allll on me,” and he leans up close against your back.

you could feel his faded bushy happy trail tickle against your ass as he’s drilling into you deep, splaying your legs further apart with a single hand. toji wraps a hand around your throat, feeling every whiny syllable die out of your throat before he lifts your hips.

“such pretty hips. look at ‘em go,” and you moan, feeling his palm hit against your left ass cheek. it’s sharp, and the brief sting makes you get dumber whilst his mushroomy tip’s just tapping its way against your tender clit.

you’re at a loss for words—the lazy downward curve of toji’s cock runs all through you, and he feels your body underneath him cutely growing weak. he’s got the type of dick that makes you get a bit woozy, drooling for more and more inches until you’re stuffed to capacity. you were through, and toji’s just sternly slamming his hips into you so good that you don’t even hear the poor splitting wood of the headboard.

with a husky crack! it ends up splitting into two, falling right before your eyes and the boxspring ends up collapsing. toji doesn’t even flinch though, and his callused fingertips remain deep into the prints of your back. “heh. shit,” he mumbles, still buried inside of your puffed cunt.

you were still panting - heavily, but you crane your head around to a certain degree and glare at him.

“what? oh, don’t look at me like that, doll,” and you moan, facing back in front of you once he pulls out, smacking his cream-coated tip over your weeping sleek-covered cunt. “ ‘s her fault. isn’t that right, messy baby?” as you’re whimpering, toji grows mute at the sounds of your sloppy squelches.

his round tip smears itself in and out between your slobbering hole before he nods as if he actually understands what your pussy’s saying. “see. she even said sorry,” and toji leans down, spitting right on your cunt before giving it a praising pat.

“good giiiirl. seems like ya got more manners than y’r messy owner.”

✩ ˛˚ . SATORU GOJO.

“ahhh- don’t hide that gorgeous face, i wanna see ya,” satoru pouts, grabbing your hands.

you were utterly stupid, whimpering as you continued to mindlessly bounce on his lap. his shaft’s ridiculously thick, expanding throughout your walls like a domain whilst attacking your cervix with individual kisses.

it scratched an itch in your brain that makes you gasp—feeling his bare washboard abs rub against your back. satoru’s hot, but the sweltering pounds of flesh that smack and crash into his meaty thighs from your unpredictable movements were even hotter.

he leans right up against the left side of your cheek, pressing a wet chaste kiss near the corner of your twitching lip. “i wanna see my wifey get all dumb ‘n stupid while she’s ridin’ me, heh.”

“ngh- satoru,” you’d moan, feeling one of his hands sneak up your blouse. lanky fingers roam up your body as he’s mercilessly slamming you back down on his cock. satoru’s flushing capped tip swirls its way through your cunt, churning effortlessly rearranging your guts and your jaw dramatically drops.

it’s cute the way your mouth freely dangles, pink tongue lolling fully out as satoru presses a hand near your bare tummy. there, he could feel the ongoing stretch and so could you.

it’s a tiny bulge that wholly prints its way through you, and you could hear his breathy snicker air against your earlobe. “well look at that. such a pretty good girl takin’ allllll of me. look at that cute ‘lil tummy bulge,” and satoru runs a free hand through his hair. with tight clenched abs, his entire core was squeezing up—your moving hips had him gnawing the inside of his cheek.

but it’s a long deadly silence between the two of you that suddenly occurs. satoru’s icy bright eyes shine into yours as you cup his face, weakly trying to keep up your grinding.

timidly, satoru strokes your bottom lip gingerly. “keep starin’ at me like that ‘n i might get’cha pregnant, sweetheart.”

“do it.” you whine. “make me p… pregnant, ‘toru.”

famous last words,

because not only does he fuck you stupid until you’re chewing on your own sweet, pathetic whimpers—satoru ends up dumping load after load into you. buttery wads of cum tear their way out of your folds as he’s now got you folded in a nasty mating press.

satoru overflowed your cunt, panting heavily as he watches the hefty, velvety masses of cum ooze down between your stuffed entrance.

with a single hand, he spreads your legs wide to get a better view and he kisses his teeth. “fuck- what a mess,” he’d groan, and he’s still deeply inside of you. your brain was empty — and all you could even register let alone think about, was the ropes of hot cum that flooded deep into your womb.

you’re still moaning, feeling satoru’s hungry gaze peer into your soul before he snickers. “would be a shame if this all hah- went to waste.”

and as he’s still trying to catch shallow breaths, satoru leisurely wipes a thumb down your leaking pussy. immediately, his digit gets coated with milky remnants of cum. “s- satoru,” you’d whimper, watching as he pressed a soft kiss to your ankle. you remained in the same position—

he had your legs spread wide into an eagle ‘v’ shape before bringing his finger up to his naturally glossed lips. satoru laps up his own mess right off his thumb whilst his cock’s plugging you utmost full. “you’re s- so nasty.”

“not nastier than this sweet girl,” satoru whispers in a raspy tone, taking out his dick before watching as his cum freely pours between your folds. velvety loads and loads sob between your folds and he hums, leaning in for a quick kiss.

satoru rocks his toned body against you, pinning both arms above your head before a hand placed on your tummy. you moan into his lips—wrapping a feeble leg around his slim waist before his free hand grabs at your neglected tits.

“mmp-” he muffled between kisses, feeling your hand trail a path down his sculptured abs. satoru presses his forehead against yours—devastatingly pulling away before whispering against your lips.

“got a feelin’ it’s gonna . . be a girl.”

✩ ˛˚ . NANAMI KENTO.

“fun fact sweets,” nanami grunts as a bare palm wraps around your throat. his grip was soft - the mere opposite of his accurately shaped thrusts.

your moans harmonically sing and bounce through the thin walls of his office as labored breaths continue to snatch out from the pits of your lungs. he’s big, easily allowing the bulbous head of his cock to run through every part of your gummy walls. he nudges through every corner, pounding into your core so good that it makes you choke on inaudible sentences. “we’re burnin’ about probably hundreds of calories right now. hah- all from me bending you over my desk like . . . this.”

you let off a sweet whine, gasping as he’s just leisurely reaming your insides. nanami’s dick dragged its way through each slickly wet nook perfectly, studying every orifice like an equation before solving it with a single thrust. “f- fuck, ‘ken,” you’d mewl out a sweetened sob, the scent of freshly printed review papers filling up your nostrils. never in a million years would you have expected the campus nerd to fuck so nasty.

he’s rigorous - just drilling his honed hips into you until you’re entirely stupid with that pretty pink tongue of yours fully lolled out of your mouth.

his dick was insanely long too, and he grunts at the feeling of his plump tip rudely thwacking against the opening of your cervix. “such a pretty thing. even prettier inside, ‘s like she’s trying to answer for you,” and the wooden worn-down desk continued to rumble from the rickety pounds of weight. the stability of your hips was far too weak.. and nanami brings a hand toward your waist. his touch was soft, and you moaned at the feeling of his stubby fingers dancing up and down your skin before a single strenuous thrust reels you back into reality. “hah- tell me, pretty,” he moans between thrusts, the slickness of your cunt glossing down near the lower base of his full shaft. “why is a woman orgasm important, hm?”

“u- um,” you moan, your brain completely fried. his hits were so good - too good, and you’re just dumbly wordless.

nanami’s hips went askew as he made you arch further into his desk, deepening his angle. your face is lightly planted against the papers and you could hear him sneer from behind you.

one second turned into two . . then three . . then seven . .

a weeping whine rips out of your throat once he pivots even deeper, guiding a big hand between your legs. a thumb swirls around your sopping stuffed cunt and he leans in to kiss near your shoulder. “ ‘um’ isn’t a valid answer, dummy,” and your eyes were already mindlessly rolling to the backs of your empty skull.

but oh- the stretch.

he’s jabbing his hips quicker ‘n quicker as greedy hands grab at your bare skin. “c’mooon, use that pretty brain. my smart girl’s gotta be in there somewhere,” and nanami playfully knocks at the top of your head. “at least i hope she is.”

“t- the woman orgasm’s important because it helps out with the uh- pelvic floor muscles and activity.”

“and.”

“and . . it helps boosts fertility.”

���aaand?”

“a- and ‘m cumming!”

“wha- oh,” nanami lowly chuckles, feeling your cunt tighten around him. the clingy wet claps of skin grew louder - violently ricocheting against both pounds of flesh as he scoots your ass up further.

he’s deep, jackhammering his thick cock into you while occasionally fixing his glasses. every few seconds, they’d slide down the bridge of his nose. it irritates him, and you’d hear him scoff under his breath while he’s still ramming into you senseless. “c’mooon then, show me how orgasms help strengthen pelvic floor muscles, sweetheart.”

as you’re just being fucked stupid into the countless marked sheets of your papers, you gasp. stuffed at the very hilt - at least. a single tap of his cockhead against your cervix and that’s a wrap for you. within a blink of an eye—you’re shamelessly creaming down his cock with a wide shaped mouth.

he’s still thickly stretching through your walls, kneading at every compressing wet corner as you’re releasing and you start to whine. “fuck- fuuuck,” you’d whimper, feeling his jagged hips abruptly halt against you. the cold metal buckle of nanami’s belt rubs against your skin as you moan, seeing nothing but mere stars. competing to catch your breath, you huff out a sweet genuine, “did . . did i pass?”

“hmm,” he kisses near your shoulder blade, readjusting his glasses. glancing down, nanami looks at your panties that were lazily pulled to the side and he makes you arch further.

as you’re still panting, nanami clicks his tongue. “ ‘m afraid not. i think we need to learn more about the clitoris,” and nanami takes off his glasses, bringing them towards your slick opening, witnessing it fog from your dripping mess.

with a low titter, he brings them back up to his curved lips before licking the wet lenses, giving your pretty pussy a ‘lecturing’ spank. “specifically yours.”

✩ ˛˚ . SUGURU GETO.

if it’s anything nastier than suguru geto’s tongue, it’s his thick fat cock.

it’s the epitome of sloppy, especially with how it rummages through your insides, roughly circling his tip around the opening of your slick cunt. prone bone would almost always be his favorite too. it was just the way his crushing body weight would hover over yours—nearly suffocating your backside with just a bit of pressure. “sugu- ngh. suguruuu,” you’d croak out, each stinging slap of skin sending swarms of butterflies inside the inner pits of your tummy.

“quiet, doll,” he’d groan, curling a few fingers around your neck. geto’s thumb traces down your exposed nape before he licks at your ear. “fuck- what did i tell you about speakin’ out of turn?” and as your eyes start to wander to the dark abyss depths of your cranium, you whine. he’s in so deep, massaging every sloppy orifice as his fat tip drags its way through your spongey insides. “you speak after she gets a word in,” and you let off a needy sob once geto gently lift your leg. he’s still pressed into you as you’re being rammed into from behind, and that’s when he slides a hand between your legs. gurgling sloshes leave your pussy once he starts to maneuver circles around your entrance and you whine. “uh huuuh. listen to that pretty back talk with me. i know- i know.”

geto’s palm instantly got moist from your dewy juices spurting on his hand—not that he even minded anyway. you were just perfect like this, and each snap of his hips made you lose your mind ten times quicker. you’re already drooling from the mouth too, lazily sticking out your tongue as your arms start to grow feeble. “f- fuck, suguru. spank it. hng- spank it.”

“myyy, isn’t my girl bein’ extra dirty today, hm?” geto huskily purrs against the lobe of your ear. his rhythm was purely ruthless. your eyes were bulging, akin to the size of pinballs once your mouth started to pry open wider once the stretch continued..

his dick’s so fat - from all curving angles, stuffing you entirely with all nth inches of cock. geto could hear your airy pants grow more breathy and he gutturally sighs, smearing faster shapes against your dripping cunt. “ohhh- don’t shy away now,” he snickers, making you raise your head from the pillow you rested on. “not when you’re so fuckin’ wet. repeat what you want me to do, sweetheart.”

he’s a mere tease. you weren’t even facing him directly, but you could tell from just his smug tone alone that he was cockily grinning ear to ear. with a belting whine departing from your lips, you moan out a needy, “s- spank it suguru.”

“pretty please.”

“p… pretty please.”

geto brashly hums, running his free hand down your spine that glosses with sleek sheets of glistening sweet. his cock’s got you arching perfectly, and every inch pumps its way inside of you with occasional wet ‘pops!’ squelching from both sloppy mounds.

“good girl,” he gruffly whispers against your neck, feeling your hectic hips sensually rock back into him. “yeah- like that, princess. throw that cute ass against m . . me, fuck-” and seconds later, you feel the sharp brief sting of a slap against your teary folds. you’re so wet, wetting up his palm as your moans fill the entire room.

one slap turns into two, then three, then four.

you lost count—it was probably around that number, but you were far too dumb from his dick that’s currently got you in such a trance.

“ ‘m gonna..” you gasp out, the bucking of his hips getting more and more nasty. geto’s body rubs off against you and you then feel his palm swat against your ass. smack! and you hear him groan from behind. your cunt’s sucking him in and spitting him out — and the view was godly. all he saw was a pretty, slick mess as you start to dribble clear syrupy sap between your thighs. “cum- gonna cum suguru.”

“you remember how?” geto teases and your chest heaves once he gives your wet pussy a squeeze. not a single thought was in your mind, just how he was destroying your insides inch after fuckin’ inch. .

the flat of your tongue starts to salivate and you whine, nodding cutely before feeling geto’s thrusts deepen. “silly girl. bet you forgot how- should see your face right now,” he huffs, covering your spit-glossed mouth with his wide palm. you end up drooling on his hand and he tchs, smudging your saliva all over your mouth with his palm.

“c’mon then, gimme a show,” he grouses, slowing his hips down for you. geto does this purposely so you could physically feel how much of a stretch he’s barreling inside of your cunt. it’s huge - and you don’t even realize that after you finally came, you were even stupider.

cottony fuzz coils at both of your ears from the inside as your mouth remains open. you’re just whining, babbling out sweet ‘thank you's’ — even though you don’t even know exactly why you’re thanking him.

“hah- you’re welcome.” geto cunningly coos against your neck, planting a thumb on your throbbing clit. you’re so tender, shaking underneath him as you’re still seeing splotches of utter white. his dick had you unable to create coherent words, and geto brings his thumb up to your mouth before dragging it across your lips. “mmh. messy girl. still gotta work on that mouth.”

✩ ˛˚ . CHOSO KAMO.

“o- oh fuuuck,” he’d swallow, peering his eyes down toward your wet cunt.

it’s pretty - drippin’ with masses of slippery slick that soaks the entirety of his cock.

sucking in a sharp gasping breath, choso grabs onto your hips before flashing a sheepish grin. he wasn’t in fully in and choso’s already a mess. lazily leaning back against the futon—warm, drowsy eyes meet yours with darkened bags hanging underneath his pretty eyelids. choso can’t keep his eyes off you. his eyes flicker from up to your face, then back between your thighs. “mngh- you’re squeezin’ down on me, baby. don’t think ‘m gonna last.”

“you can last, ‘cho,” you whisper, letting off a sweet moan yourself once his cock smugly barrels itself between your puffed folds. you leave a lustrous shine that glimmers over his aching shaft. with achingly slow hips, you start to jerk forward and you can already see choso’s adam’s apple bobbing. “mmh- that’s it, hold me. touch me choso, ‘s okay.”

with choso though—he didn’t realize just how big he was. his dick stood tall, and its height expanded throughout your gummy walls entirely.

piercing the honed edges of your nails into his shoulders, you whine out a breathy gasp. his cock’s rude, sloppily towering inside of your pussy before starting to puncture a few delicious hits into your slick-flooded core. you’re rocking back ‘n forth, staring into his half-open eyes before burying your face into his neck. “nono-don’t do thaaat. wanna see you,” he’d pout, lifting your face.

choso’s already sweating — dewy droplets face down each side of his forehead before he feels the elastic stretch. he could almost taste it, the sugary sweet stretch. the way choso’s mushroomy tip drags its way up down and round your cunt leaves a tender feeling arising in your tummy. precisely, he marks an ‘x’ through your goopy insides with the crown of his dick like it was some kind of sacred treasure. a far more lewd kind though.

and not only did your hips make him stupid, but your pussy did too. “c- chosoooo,” you’d belt out a three-second whimper, sliding a few fingers down his bare chest. he’s hot, and the more your touch ghosts down his skin, the higher his body temperature rises. “right there- ooh! k- keep fuckin’ me there, baby.”

“god- when you whine my name, ‘s so hot,” he’d sheepishly admit, clawing a hand through his black loose strands. choso’s entire abdomen tightens at the sudden quickening speed of your hips. you’re frantic, slamming your ass up and down on his veiny cock while swerving your hips in a plethora of addicting swerving circles.

a beefy arm of his reaches for the headboard and he grabs onto it tight. you moan, staring as the veins and muscles flex through choso’s bicep. you’re riding him so good that he’s literally got to hold onto the bed for support. “ ‘m gonna fuckin’ cum. s- shit, your pussy’s gonna…..fuck.”

the loud paps of jerking skin only increase, and once you lean in to kiss choso—he submissively leans into your touch.

right away, teeth violently clash together as tongues hungrily delve into each mouth, competitively fighting for their fair shares of dominance. choso moans, sliding a palm toward the edge of your jolting ass. you’re riding him to straight oblivion, and he’s already rolling his eyes back. “mmpf-” he’d let off a gargled moan, bringing a swatting smack towards your rear. “fuckmefuckfuckmeee,” he’d whine into your ear, and now he’s got both hands clinging onto your ass. choso’s dragging you firmly back against his pelvis, making sure you feel him deep inside of your compressing walls.

oh- he was entirely pussy drunk, with you being dick drunk.

choso could see the sleazy smile forming against your lips as your back started to arch. he’s damn big, and you moan the second his fat tip keenly thrashes its way against your pulsating g-spot. that was all it took for you to squeal out a needy ‘ah!’ before your legs ended up locking around his waist.

languidly, he’s digging his fingers into your hips before you end up nibbling on his bottom lip. “ ‘m cummin’ baby. hah- cum with me, be my messy girl. c’mon,” and as he’s rambling, choso wraps his strong arms around you. he’s giving you a gentle bear hug, cutely whining into your chest as his head buries itself in between your soft tits. “mmmph.”

as your hips continued to roll, you eventually ended up finishing - hard. your orgasm had you sobbing out wantons of whimpers as his dick’s plugged you very, very full. glittery ribbons spray into you at the same time, and it’s fiery hot.

choso’s shivering underneath you, still having his arms wrapped around you—never wanting to let go. “f- fuck, choso,” you’d breathe out, hearing his tremoring sighs aerate between your tits. choso rolls out his tongue, licking a stripe down the valley of his chest as he’s still pumping you with miles ‘n miles of sultry hot seed. you hum, coddling his head with one arm as your ass slowly comes to a stop.

a clammy hand of yours grabs at your ass as you turn around, glancing at the ivory oozing clods of cum that dribbles down your pudgy opening. “not . . done,” choso heavily huffs, and you moan once he pushes you to lie on your back. with a soft thud! you land against the cushioned furniture before looking up at him.

choso looks hungrier than ever, and before you knew it — he’s slowly sliding your knees up toward your chest. “f- fuck,” he whines, taking a peak at the strings of cum that continue to race down your lustrous-coated slick.

so pretty,

but in choso’s mind, it could be even prettier.

choso leans in, pressing a kiss between your breasts before sliding a thumb down your cunt. a wet psh! shrieks out of your pussy and he lets off a quivering breath. “you can be a little messier, baby,” he’d whisper, and his tone’s a bit more hoarse now. choso hears you gulp, and once he starts to shove your knees up to your chest, he re-aligns his leaky cream-glossed tip. “ ‘m gonna stuff you fuller,” he pressed his final wet kiss against your lips.

“maybe even give you a baby . . or two . . six, h- heh.”