#p: hot mess | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tonycries · 3 months ago

Text

TRACKSTAR?!

Synopsis. He’s not running a marathon with you, he’s fúcking one.

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

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, MARATHONS, overstím, creampíes, cúmflation, dúmbifícation, making them whímper, cervíx kíssing, breaking the bed, ínnapropríate use of powers, pússydrúnk men, true form Sukuna, dp, bréeding, p talking, they’re FÉRAL, manhandIing, BÚLGES, spítting, cúmplay, L bómbs, boss!Higuruma, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. Hope you have a lovely week!!

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - 5 rounds

“C’mooon- only round five n’ you’re already this gone, mama?” Toji departs a breathy whistle from his scarred lips, jaded eyes rolling in time with your cute whimpers.

And you’re just trembling underneath him - your legs turned into complete mush and your eyes permanently homed all the way in the back of your head. A big fat wad of creamy white drips out from your sensitive slit and makes you groan– “As if you’re any hck! better.”

Grumbling gruffly, “Huh? S’that backtalk, doll?”

“M-maybe…”

Well- what else could he have expected after completely breaking your rickety bedframe, two desks, and damn near the floor you were drooling all over.

Toji’s plush pecs grinding firmly against your shoulder, scorching skin-against-skin as one beefy arm loops underneath to keep you arched. The other patting that inflationary, throbbing lil’ bulge rested inside your tummy with a leer, “Because all she’s tellin’ me s’that you’re gonna take this next round like a champ.”

Next.

A marathon - fuck, a marathon.

So many rounds upon countless rounds and he was still aching for more - the fat n’ girthy shaft of his painful cock drip-drip-dripping with even more sappy precum. Flooding your sheeny entrance as if he was slobbering, the cutting edge of his mushroom tip swirls around your milked entrance to open you up further.

“Yeah…” Toji drawls under his breath, low. Pinkish tongue flicking out at the pretty, pretty vision of your ruined pussy– “Tellin’ me she’s gonna t-take it alright.”

And if he stuttered, if his voice broke then you don’t notice - because soon enough your brain melts into nothingness as he traces your teary slit with a harsh jab of his crowned head. Dribbling veering into straight-up bawling from between your legs.

Your head lolls back stupidly, striking the plane of his sharp collarbone. Hands scrambling for anything on the floor right about now, “Oh- oh, please. Toooji–!”

“What, huh? S’that pretty lil’ ngh- head scrambled already?” A hoarse snicker breezes out from above you, in unison with the splintered creeeak! that resonates out once one of his clammy palms press up against the nearby wall.

No- you want to say.

But the only thing that spills out of your spit-glued lips is a few whimpering wails of Toji’s name, your knees weakening as he keeps rutting his bludgeoning cock deeper and deeper.

Fucking you like an animal. He was so big that you could feel his pounding veins scrape every inch of your insides, lightning bolts rubbing up against your snug walls in a way that was so sensual. Zig-zagging across your gooey pussy as your bottom lip catches on your teeth. “Harder h-harder.”

So dizzy that you felt like collapsing-

“Whoops- upsy daisy.” Before you can even blink your tear-stuck lashes, Toji cradles your neck with his bulging bicep. In exactly the lecherous way that makes your mouth spill over with a splash of excited slobber, seeping right down his toned arm. “Tch, made a mess too.”

Manhandling you like you’re boneless, you’re pressed up against every rippling muscle. Every glissading ab, a hot trickle of sweat drips down from Toji’s temple.

“Please- nghhh please, it feels t-too good–”

“Too good, huh?” And you already know he’s rolling his eyes lazily. Grouching out, “M’not even all the way hah- inside this cute lil’ pussy. So tight s’like she’s gonna fuuuuuck- break.”

The image made you want to squirm, held down by the briefest, barest flex of his arms. Knocking out every ounce of wheezed air stuffed inside your lungs, Toji gazes down at you when you moan and sneers.

“And look at that- she’s still throbbing.” His free hand’s flicking over your relentless tummy bulge until ivory cum splatters down your shivering thighs. “Lettin’ out a damn hngh- fountain, too.” Skin glued together with the mess he’d made inside– and somewhere far off in the distance, your eardrums register a sharp snap!

Because Toji Fushiguro was out of control. Out of his mind.

Sharp tendrils of his inhuman power breaking every piece of furniture inside of your heady bedroom, and making his slender hips rut with a sharp spank! It echoes, the sound.

Clap after clap after clap where he’s cluttering your velvety dripping insides with that fattened circumference, gooping out splashing wads of precum that skids right on over to the target of your tummy bulge. Inflating you up even more.

“Tight fuckin’ th-thing–” He’s gasping into the crook of your neck, eyes ogling down at the globular bump through his shaggy Stygian bangs. So sensitive. So tender, the underside of his cock was flinching with every slip n’ slide deeper. Wincing at your saturated clench, “-fit- fit- fit, goddammit.”

Shit- he’d plugged you so full with glutinous bucketloads of cum that every snagging buck pulled your walls so taut.

Struggling to even fit, he’s rovering his thick fingertips over to that invisible line he was jackhammering inside you and pushing. Hard. Snickering to himself as your pussy torrents out a milky flood with a splurch!

You think you might be cumming - you think you don’t even realize as your vision of the wall splinters with splotches of pure white. Clawing down his sweat-simmered skin, your throat tastes rusty with a strained moan of “T-Tooooji—!”

“Yeah- yeah yeah, doll. Scream f’me. Even she’s louder than you.” Smoothing over the doughy patch of his palm on top of your glittery pussymound. His words carry out over the vulgar paps of flesh, stinging your mounds. And even the scratchy gliiiide of Toji’s tufted happy trail leaves your skin all tender, “Scream- scream, because…”

And then there’s a sudden crack!

Thundering across your ears; you’d have thought that your poor bedroom floor would be the last thing that even Toji wouldn’t be able to break. You’d have thought you were safe down here.

But his hand plants away from the wall, a crumbling handprint embedded deep into the plaster. Oh.

That very same one patting your womb - with both his calloused fingers outside your tummy, and the ruby-red cockhead on his vast shaft. Bottoming out until he was shoveled balls-deep, he shivers. Primally, “-because this next one’s gonna be a biiiig one, mama.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - 8 rounds

“I want to be your…cumdump, Kento.”

That was what had started it - that was exactly what had broken whatever was left of Nanami Kento’s sanity until he’d bent you over and taken you in the lewdest, rawest mating press right then n’ there on your marble kitchen counter.

His thick, frigid wedding ring roams between your swollen pussy folds, peaking right between those slippery edges to watch the way your pretty face twists into a whine. “Are- are you hah! alright? If you can’t, darling-”

“No no- I want it, Ken–” Your words huff into a pout almost as much as your delicious lips were, and Nanami finds himself leaning in to smear a laaaazy peck. “-want you to fuck me rough- again, please?”

“Aww, my love…an eighth round? S’gonna be a biiig stretch, y’know?” And for a second you think he simply won’t agree, for a second you think he’ll simply kiss you dizzy and make slow, sensual love to you.

But, no.

No- what your husband does next is sternly loosen the yellow speckled tie still stuck to his perspired neck, cording it tightly around your own. A sinful little loop that pulls your head off of the frosty counter and up to him.

“-then you better open ‘er up wiiide, m’kay?”

There was something hard in his rugged tonality, something so…feral. And the only thing more feral were his hips, prying apart your puckered lips until you were gasping around his plumped-up girth. Every ridge and vein pushing and pushing until his massive cock was working you open - you could never get used to Nanami’s sheer size.

“Please-” You’re clawing down his half-open shirt, drenched through with such slabs of sweat until you could count every ab. Your head throws back as he further thumbs open your filthy hole with a soppy squelch–! “Please please please-”

Stretching and stretching. He couldn’t get enough of you - your rubbery hole was already opened up so that he could take you maddeningly.

Nanami’s aching tip was burning hot, slurping up your gooey insides with such famishment. And every pistoning drill had his golden happy trail itching your perked clit until you saw overstimulated stars-

“M’kissing you here.” He gruffs out from the depths of his guttural throat, veering an index in a straight line down your cunt. “And here.” Mazing into one of your favorite spots, battering a bruise. “And here…”

Skidding a stripe of pre just millimeters below your throbbing g-spot; your melty insides clench oh-so-adorably at the sensation and Nanami finds himself almost cumming. A singular thin, stringy knot of seed dribbling out of his sensitive orifice and targeting your g-spot - almost like he’d planned it.

He’s smiling as your chest heaves with a wail– “And m’kissing you ngh- there.” Your lips tremble as he leans over to nibble down on your dewy-glossed lips like a gummy, “My favorite. This here-” Your thighs jittery uncontrollably as he draws a firm line across, “-love you up to right here. Love you more.”

“K-Ken- oh!”

And it might be the eighth- was it? You think you’ve lost fucking count. The only thing on your mind right now was the way he hiked a capped knee over to angle his drilling hips just so.

“Mmm– keep these open.” A softened palm latches onto the underside of your thighs and splays you out until your legs hit your tits, such a burning stretch. And yet, Nanami himself was even hotter - even more feverish. Blond bangs tickling your face- “Squeeze- squeeze.”

Before you can even think of listening to his spat-out words, he’s slouching his head back to dart your pussy like a fat splat of spittle. Formulating a shiny sheen right over your entrance, “My pussy- fuck! Squeeze, my wife, m’gonna make sure you c-can feel allll of it. Gonna make sure.”

The swell of his vein-covered shaft protrudes against some of your sweetest spots, probing. “I feel- feel it-”

“Yeahhh—? S’she memorizing it?”

It’s like every vulgar whack has Nanami more pussydrunk by the sultry seconds.

Pound after pound that made the counter shake dangerously with his sheer force, you’re sure that if you tilted your head enough you’d see the way that his toned pelvis was stinging red from his bulky base.

The driveling crown of Nanami’s cock slips across your womb and you cry out, letting him clench that vice-like tie even tighter. Needier.

“She- she is.” You’re croaking out, embarrassingly belated. Oblivious to the way his molten eyes widen, heavy lashes fluttering furiously to remain open. A thin line of saliva leaks from your mouth, which Nanami tenderly wipes away. “Want you to- fuck- faster. Harder.”

Oh.

You evil, evil thing. Lengthy digits curling into a fist, he’s slamming it down inches away from your head at the white-hot sparks of pleasure that sprints through Nanami’s body. He wasn’t just fucking you on the kitchen counter, he was fucking you into it.

Meaty pecs heaving with a wheeze– “M-marry me.”

“Wh-what?”

“Marry me.” Damn near ten inches that drove crazily inside each n’ every time, pummeling out a clean circular bruise on the pinpoint of your spongy cervix. “Marry me marry me marry- fuck!”

He feels the moment you cum before even you do, a sparking hot flash of heat. Not even electricity, not even peaks, just sizzling tingles that make your dripping wet cunt spit out a few more pearly drops of sappy slick.

“Ken- fuckfuckfuck–” Your back arches almost completely off of the cool surface, and right into his arms. “-m’cumming m’cumming–”

The metallic frames of his glasses sag even loser, making him look such a mess. All burnished flush, hooded eyes, and a sleekly slobbering mouth that shapes to form- “Mhmm— cum, cum, my love- n’then m’gonna fuck! wife you up. Make you my gorgeous wife.”

He really was that pussydrunk.

Your shimmering lips crash mindlessly into his and your usually-stoic husband finds himself bloating even larger. Wrenching your head back with every snagging catch of his rock-hard cock, ba-dump–! goes the very bottom of your watery pussy.

Your words are soaked in such utterly loving, “We’re already married, Ken–”

“O-oh.” You never thought you’d hear the day that Nanami Kento stutters - almost even whines. Looking helplessly towards your prettily fucked-out face, and then your matching rings. Oh.

“Then…” But you can’t revel in your accomplishment too much before he rendered you thoughtless with yet another splosh of scalded seed overstuffing your soppy cunt. Spraying down your cervix until you could feel every loooong slide of those heavy ribbons. Eyes widening- did he just cum from realizing you two were married…Nanami grunts, Nanami begs.“-make me a dad?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - 7 rounds

“Mmm, gorgeous–” He’s purring, cherry-pink lips now all stained white with the leaky remnants of his cum. Clinging his greedy maw ‘round your seed-frothed clit and draaagging, “Ya taste even sweeter after the heh- sixth round.”

You’re whimpering, tastebuds overflowing with the saturated taste of your slick saliva. It gurgles at the back of your throat and gushes the very instant Geto flops his prolonged tongue inside your filthy hole, “Sugu- Suguru–”

“Mmm– what’s that?”

“Sugu, I want-”

Before you can even think of finishing your sentence, Geto’s slender fingers come slamming down to leave your dripping pussymound aching. Spank! The manicured crescents of his nails just slightly catching on the hood of your clit while he pinches and leaves you breathless-

“N’ who was talking to you?” The sloped tip of his nose meanly nudges your pert nub, flaring out a scorched huff of laughter right where it struck you the most. “Mhm- s’rude ta talk outta turn, you know?”

And Geto’s gulping so loud it’s just filthy. Letting his heated mouth open wiiide enough that you’re displayed with all the dewy droplets of syrupy white that glisten down his dampened muscle.

Your thighs try helplessly to clench together, mussing up his long, inky locks - in a way he’d never admit that he fucking loves. “B-but, Suguru…” He really doesn’t make it easy for you, thrusting his tongue in rapid, greedy gyrations in and out. Mewling, “Really wan’ you to- to fuck me again.”

Ah, there it went - Geto halts, he gasps - his sanity.

Again? Again?

Oh. And somewhere in the back of his husked throat, he giggles. Has the audacity to fucking giggle whilst his eyeliner-smudged irises drift up to your fucked-out expression, the way you were so needy still. Begging, actually.

“R-round seven?”

He was so pretty - all tear-glittered eyes, lips that were swollen and sopping wet with oozing dredges of his own creamy white seed. He looked like he was about to fucking ravish you to soothe his permanently-drenched throat.

The only thing you can do is fucking nod - before Geto Suguru makes lecherous use of his swift battle prowess to latch a hand on the side of your waist and flip you over.

Sweat-simmered abs kissing up against your arched back, his long bangs tickling down your spine. Down, down, down– inches over where he’s swabbing your drooling cunt with three repeated strikes. One to make your pussy just whoosh! with syrupy gumdrops of sap - coating a burnished lacquer where his glinting piercing was-

“Heh- yer more honest here, gorgeous.” The stretchy band of your hole rings out with a burning streeeetch once Geto’s teasing you with the sweltering hot crown of his length.

So unfairly wide that your teary eyes run away to the back of your head without even a single inch sunken in. Your boyfriend catches the sensitive slit underneath his pretty swollen mushroom tip right where your entrance was, “Mmm– spilling out so much. Take it- take it then, if you want it so bad.”

“More–” Your skin pebbles with so many endless goosebumps at the chilling orb of his Prince Albert’s piercing probin’ your cunt open. In in in- “Fuh-fuuuuck, gimme- gimme more.”

“Greedy girl.”

Dark yukata only half-off, pinning you down. And yet even seven rounds wouldn’t be enough to ever get you used to how truly big he was. Massive.

Fuck- he’s cradling his half-soft, sensitive hilt with those lengthy fingers of his. Tight. Pulling and pulling in tight, rapid tugs so that his aching cock bloats even harder. Whispering a staccato of ‘c’mon c’mon c’mon’, either side of his circumference molding your melty walls never-endingly open. You whine as his throbbing tip starts perking even deeper inside your innards, making himself so fucking painfully hard for you.

“O-ohhhh so big.” You’re gurgling out, knees skittering to a shake on your screeching mattress. “S-Suguru why are you so ngh- big.”

Ruby-red, blushed so fucking pink that it matched the maidenly flush overtaking Geto’s handsome features. “That’s what ya get for thinking more with this hck! pussy than that head.” A creamy ring of cum outlines your entrance as he bottoms out, tender balls-deep. “So take it- take it then.”

Shit, you were squeezing around him so tight that it made him groooan pornographically.

Knotted slivers of spit dolloping out from between his cracked lips and onto your back, Geto’s sneaking a foot down on your hazed head and holding you trapped. Eyed locked on what he could see of your expression while he delved deeply in—

Every minute change, every tiny squeal while his heavy cock drips out hot precum exactly on the target of your g-spot. As if his circular piercing was a spotlight tugging on every tender spot mapped out, “Yeahhh– atta girl.”

You always melted into such mush whenever he cooed at you that way, yeowling out while he opened up every cute lil’ crevice. “Sugu, kiss- kiss?”

How cute, his long, eyelined waterlines flutter with the overstimulated urge to pass out right then and there.

Instead, Geto’s dragging his neatly-trimmed pelvis against the mound of your jiggling ass until your skin scratches raw. “A lil’ kiss- you mean- here?” Pointing a cute lil’ splotch of thick precum where your sloppy entrance was clenching and unclenching furiously. “Orrrr here?” Another barreling poke near where your g-spot was, digging the curvature of his piercing right inside. “Or– oh, you like that, huh, filthy girl?”

“Yes- yesyesyes fuck–!”

Thwack! You’re hit with the edges of his knobbled digits, and then another second strike with a ropey splatter of saliva. “What’d I say about talking out of turn, gorgeous?”

Before you can respond, Geto flicks over a slash of his beaded piercing right over your clit. “Or…” Right prior to the way that rasping breath of his grows shaky. Unsteady. And no sooner are you hit with the realization that you’re positively walloped with the saturated swash of his stringy cum clogging you up. Stretchy, squeezing himself inside you as if he was trying to milk himself dry - and he truly was.

Bumping out an inflationary lil’ pouch where he was knocking on your womb, you felt so full that you couldn’t even breathe.

Finally, finally against your lips– you taste Geto’s cum and overstimulated tears. He whimpers, “-here?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - 4 ½ rounds

Choso’s crying, he thinks he’s blubbering. Big, great tears that spill from the ends of his eyes and stream down his scorchingly blushed cheeks, “C-can I put it inside again, baby–?”

And almost as if he was afraid of what you would say, your poor boyfriend’s angling your leg just a lil’ higher from behind. Watery mahogany eyes fixed permanently on your expression from behind, on his side - every minute change whilst he slithers his blushing red tip inside to wrench out the sloppiest sluuurp–!

Once. Twice. Three filthy times in succession.

You just leak in milky ribbons of cum that he’d pumped inside of you, all full until his rounded hilt was dripping wet in sticky rings upon rings of it. Drenched.

“Ohhh- pretty pussy. What a pretty pussy.” His breathy gasps humidify your neck, heaving. Leering down, “Hey there— pretty.” Not even talking to you. Panting— oh, and you’re sure right now if you turned around then he would be flushed bright pretty pink. “Please, baby, let me give you one more?”

You can’t help but coo as you’re feeling his warm tears splatter your shoulder drenched, “Of course, Cho– All inside now- don’t be shy.”

“M’n-not…”

And for all he said, Choso has to rim his pearly white teeth over the tender crook of your neck and bite the moment he sinks in. Bloated mushroom tip so fat that it only eases in a single inch before he’s latching two hands on the flesh of your hips and bucking.

Wildly, achingly.

“Oh- oh my god…” He’s whispering into your skin. Chiseled abs stuck like adhesive to your back, the sizzling sweat between your bodies makes Choso’s fattened girth slip out with a lecherous pop! and he whines– again and again.

You run your hands through the sweaty valleys of his locks, “Aww, s’alright–”

But he gapes, stingingly swollen cockhead almost steaming in your heady bedroom air. Spurting out a viscid jetstream of pre as if to say he wasn’t supposed to be outside. Anywhere but your honeyed pussy. “No- nonono–” Choso mutters, nibbling down on his bruised lips to failingly hold back his soft gasping whimpers. “Inside. Inside.”

“Mmm– lemme help, baby.” You pop the ‘p’ and gaze adoringly at the way his girthy, fat cock massages your outer ring. Treacling out a gooey few splotches of pre that overrun your flooded entrance and stretch you open so wide.

Truly, Choso was way too big for his own good.

Heavy and hard. The curving ridges of his shaft’s help him lean exactly towards where your g-spot was located, smearing out a steamy line of sap straight towards his bullseye there. Your clingy walls were practically melting into him, keening at the curly brown hairs that tickle your inner thighs.

“S-s’it all ngh! inside, baby–?” Your head lolls to the side and drowns in your plush pillow, dragging in deep breaths with every even deeper stroke he was planting on you. Slowly, so that you can feel every sensual lightning bolt of his veins massaging your innards.

“Inside- inside oh-” Choso’s spit-glued jaw drops as if the thought only registered to him. And he’s flapping his long lashes furiously to blink down through the haze, “S’inside.”

As if to prove his point, he snakes over one of his sweat-moistened palms and crams down over where your spongy cervix was being kissed over n’ over. So many loving, lingering kisses that scrubbed his rounded cockhead polished with every glide.

“A-all inside, all safe and hck! sound.” He’s prattling away drunkenly - and you don’t know who’s more fucked, you or him. Another winding arm pressing you to him like two halves of one body, “For the f-fourth time. Fuck- m’gonna cum once more o-or die trying.”

He’s treating your dampened cunt like he’s worshipping you there, such loooong raw grinds that make your eardrums buzz with the intense gulping slurps. Every strike to your most favorite areas leaving your perpetual high just tingles.

Your hand reaches over to drag him by one of his dangling silver necklaces into a sloppy, sloppy kiss. “Mmm– all inside, m’kay? No ngh- missing, Cho–”

“No missing. No…no missing.” He nods from behind, chestnut bangs falling over those half-lidded eyes and still doing nothing to hide the glaring intensity in them. With a puffing heaval of his full lungs, he moans– “Won’t miss- won’t miss…won’t miss so you have to t-take it ngh- all, baby- m’kay?”

And it’s only a few more vulgar slap after slap before Choso throws his head back and cums. Lifting your hips almost middair so that you’re swallowing up each plump wad of seed.

There’s so much of it bursting inside, coating your every nook and cranny in a stark white. You could practically feel the knotted mess streaaaming down your gummy walls, the drooling slope of his crownhead targeting every sweet orifice.

And Choso counts- oh, he counts.

Something smoky that crackles underneath his baritone breath, just barely reaching your popped ears. “One-” Just as his first wiry ribbon weaves its way through your oversaturated walls, “-two-” Another one streaking down your battered g-spot. “-three.‘

That third and final clump of hefty cum could barely even be considered that - only a few pearly droplets before he’s reaching his high dry.

Sparks explodin’ behind those shuttered lids, his sweat-slicked brows furrowing almost painfully. Choso rears his head like some beast and bites down exactly where your pulse was beating the loudest.

Hard enough to break skin whilst he cums and cums and cums and nothing comes out.

“Ngh- nghhhh–” He gurgles from the throaty back of his larynx, voice broken. And it’s just about the most intense high of his life- “Please- take it. P-please take it, baby.”

And take it you do— with open arms, and your legs shoved even more fully open by one of his lanky legs. The skin of his thighs steaming against yours, your cunt throbs once and you leer. And he jolts, primally. “Cho– how about we try till five?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - 11 rounds

There was one thing no one ever mentioned about the king of curses - one thing no one dared to even question. Never dared to find out.

And that one thing being…his heat.

The very thing right now that had you bent all out of shape on his centuries-old bed into the most filthy mating press; your voice achingly hoarse from crying out, and yet your gushing pussy even louder.

So fucking loud, in fact, that Sukuna himself can’t help but let his cursed second mouth come lolling out to give your dripping lips a lil’ peck. Loud and squelching, the sweltering hot gusts of his breath make you shiver. “Wh-why the hell is your stamina so ngh- good, Kuna–?”

“Heh- m’flattered, brat.” You’re feeling each prominent vein decorating his twin shafts throb, bloating up even bigger until your rubbery orifice was stretched to the max. Your very cervix stinging with how many times he’d whacked it with his globular slopes. “But if yer still sensical then m’not doing a good ‘nough job.”

Though, he supposed that was partly on him for seeping reverse cursed technique throughout your boneless body- but he couldn’t have his dear queen breaking any bones, right?

And if this was any other time then Sukuna’s husky baritone wouldn’t have shaken the way it did, hitching octaves higher as he’s slapping his monstrous tongue down once on your slick-topped clit.

The mushy tip of it flicking over a few glittering beads of stray cum up to his other mouth, and Sukuna shivers. All cleaned up once more for him to ruin. Pink locks of hair flopping over as he throws his head back, “Oh- ohhhh, here it comes- here it comes. Get that cute cunt ready girl, because m’heat is far from over.”

And you’re far from even registering the words in your melted mind before he’s inching his sculptured hips back and hitting them down with a wham!

You can only stare as he barrels his rugged cocks flawlessly, direct hits that simultaneously batter both your g-spot and your poor cervix. And that’s all that it takes for your clingy, overstimulated walls to hold onto his heated lengths for dear life and cum. Sparking with white-hot pleasure while he stretches and stretches and stretches you stupid.

Even the slightest, tiniest movement made your body curl– the burning sparks of bliss way too much for you to handle. After so many continuous rounds you didn’t even know how you hadn’t broken any bones. Spread-eagle by two of his big, beefy arms-

“Oh my god- ohhh s’so big. Kuna s’too big–!”

“Yeahhh, tha’s more like it.” Sukuna snickers from above, eyeing the way your maw gapes open with a torrent of spittle that stains his shoulder tattoos. A sleek gloss that makes his other set of lips smack, “Always love when ya ngh- fuck yerself stupid taking that biiig cock ya said was too big.”

Mindlessly, your hand skims over where he was pounding a rounded bulge right into your tummy. Filling you up snugly. “Please- p-please–”

Tilting his head almost mockingly, “Yeah? Wha’s that, ma?” Oh, his grin makes him look so feral - gleaming white canines on full display. He quirks a brow, “That cute lil’ bulge?”

Your inner thighs shake pathetically as he drifts a fatly-padded thumb right over where he was reaching such tender areas inside, deeper and deeper every time you blinked. “Heh- s’where m’breeding you, human. N’ I think I reeeeeally like her.”

One, two, three whacks of his dual curved cocks until you realize Sukuna wasn’t even talking to you.

No- he was cooing down at that cylindrical outline visible through your tummy. The way every tunneling jackhammer had him pouring out a generous helping of precum that made it inflate even rounder - all from the sensitive bawling divot that rubbed raw along the ridges of your insides.

One of his four hands palming down hard, “And you know what else-”

“Fuuuuck–! Wait- m’sensitive m’sensitive, Kuna-”

“-s’reminding me of…” There’s a filmy haze in his eyes, something feral and gone. And as Sukuna inches in closer, his saccharine steamed breath makes you sweat. Drinking in a deep whiff of your honeyed pheromones and he drools, “-wanting to get you all round n’ full.”

Your mouth lacquers over with a watery bout of sap, the cloying taste of it taking over your senses. Slight strings of it snapping and dangling from your panting crevice, “Y-you mean…?”

“Oh you know what I mean-” Honed fringes of his canines dig deliciously into your earlobe, “-ma.”

There’s an electric trill that runs through you - and not just because Sukuna had taken up to walloping your poor g-spot about four times every single second. Fuck, the man had stray bursts of red, red lightning darting devilishly all over his body with the sheer power it took to keep you two from breaking.

Hard, thorough thrust after thrust that rendered your mind dizzy - your brain clanging around the inside of your empty skull. Excess sloshes of seed that he hadn’t lapped up swashing on your innards, you barely even realize it when you’re hitting yet another orgasm with a shrill–

“M’cumming- m’cumming m’cumming, Kuna–” Your hands claw down his muscular back, feeling his sexily shifting muscles underneath your touch. Pretty noises so loud that he’s reaching up a palm with his second mouth manifested there for you to suck on- “I’m- mmpf-!”

“Good…good.” His titters rumble out in a guttural gruff, prominent veins popping out on either side of his throat. “Mama’s always gotta cum first- n’now ta ngh- give ya my heir.”

Your chest heaves frantically, heart racing at his words. Set free from the heavy make-out with his lengthy tongue with a dampened pwah! “Will- will it even fit?”

Because Sukuna meant double the wadded cum filling you up, and with him being in heat…

“Of course ya can-” Probably, he’s musing inside of his fuzzy mind. And yet, it didn’t matter if a single knotted ounce leaked out because his cursed maw was already manifesting back across his tensed core. Licking its lips just as he twitches warningly inside you - so hard it leaves your tummy lurching- “‘-Kuna’s’ always right.”

♡ INO TAKUMA - 3 rounds

Ino can’t help but hitch out a tiny, rasping sob with each thrust; those sensitive veins covering each side of his red n’ swollen shaft massaging up and down furiously. “So sensitive- so sensitive, think m’gonna- gonna cum, pretty.”

Your throat clogs up with utter bucketloads of saccharine spittle, drenching Ino’s sexy ski mask that’d been stuffed into your sagging maw moments prior. Something about your voice being ‘too pretty’...

“What’s that? What’s that?” His weepy crowned tip stirs around your gummy insides, splotching out a hefty wad of creamed pre - a warning. So many pitches higher, feral. “C’mon m-milk me- milk me milk me with that pretty pussy, sweetness.”

Every vicious pap was so rough that it made your vision blister with pure white - you’re muffling out something that sounds like a jumble of ‘please’.

And before long you’re simply being soaked - if you thought your driveling pussy was wet before, then you weren’t ready for the absolute puddles it was formulating now. Heavy, clumped bucketloads of sappy cum that spills out of your saturated brim.

For the second time now.

Every crevice of your tender pussy is just flooded, the smooth waves of seed treacling down your sides is so sinful that your knees weaken. Doughy heels of your feet sliding down the sweaty skin of his slender waist ‘till his tawny happy trail hits your bleary cunt. “Mmm– feels so h-hot inside.”

So hot that Ino himself was burning, veins bubbling up from underneath his very skin – he’s flushing all the way down to his mahogany roots at the sight of that creamy frothing between your legs.

“Wanna see– s’alright if I- s-see?” And he’s not just probin’ the question at you, he’s targeting it to your pussy. Nodding along with every squelch after squelch emanating out as if holding his own lecherous conversation.

And the very moment that Ino lurches his hips and draaaag his ballooned-up cock out of you, your sloppy hole simply cascades.

So wet that a warm waterfall pours out between your puffed-up folds, enough to soak your sheets and right down to your bedsprings. They ricket creakily following every bulky slap of his round, cylindrical shaft down on your gluey slit.

Grunting, “Yeah- yeah yeah yeah so fuckin’ pretty- so pretty. D’you have any idea h-how hck! gorgeous ya are?”

A clingy, dripping mess dangles from his oozing divot by the time your cottony mind clears up enough to spit out his choking mask. Blubbering out a strained, “Please- please, Taku—”

Oh, that lil’ nickname makes Ino slouch his head back and groan.

“Don’t- fuuuuck, don’t say it like that-” His huffing words depart his chest with every stimulated twitch, full-bodied. Ino was shivering, those trembly thighs of his doing nothing to hide the way his ruby-red cockhead was blushing enough to resemble a lollipop. “Don’t say it or m’gonna…”

“Mhm—?”

You evil minx.

With a determined rut of his beastly hips, Ino’s spanking the tender underside of his length down straightly across your cunt. Making you see for yourself just how loooong and wide he really was, your greedy insides are clenching already.

Drawling up a steady finger to mark on your where he’d be using as his target, “Hiya, pretty- can ya handle one more? J-just- just the tip this time, ngh- okay?” Muttering - more to himself than anything. Those fawny doe-eyes look up at you and you’re noticing that his pupils are practically hearts. “Swear- just the tip, I swear-”

And he’s still so sensitive - so delicate from just cumming that even smooching your glossily saturated lips is enough to leave your pretty boyfriend gasping.

Nose crinkling at the bridge, “Just…just the tip…” He’s talking almost as if he’s in a daze, drunkenly lolling his head down to watch the way your bulging pussylips smear open with his wide circumference, “-for th-this third round- can’t be more than the ngh- tip, okay–?”

Punctuated with slow, sensual grinds.

The pulsating of his tip curves up into your g-spot precisely, over and over. Repeated, thorough strikes where he makes sure you’re being rendered dizzy on his winding veins. Your sensory walls feel along every zig-zagged pattern, rubbing back n’ forth back n’ forth back n’ forth.

“Fuuuuck– it feels so good, baby.”

“Sh-shit.”

He stills at your words - body aching out a ba-dump–! You mewl out, your overstimulation making the blissful sensations increase twofold. And a fat glob of cum spurts out of you as you quiver, heady gaze starin’ dead-on. “Want a bit more…Taku.”

There it was again. And Ino is falling even deeper in love with you, heart racing once he flits his hazed peripheries down to your pussy. Then you. Your pussy. Then you. Your drooling pussy-

“G-gonna…” He starts off, voice low. Rasping. Something primal in them jolting awake, he clings on a hand underneath one of your asscheeks and lifts you up easily. Pliably, to inch in just another solid bulk further, “-gonna take it alllll like a g-good girl, okay?”

Yes- but you don’t even have the time to revel in your success before you’re being split apart.

“Keep- keep your eyes open, sweetness.” You’re hearing grouch into your fuzzy ear canal, the stinging spank of skin-on-skin echoing right along with it. “Keep ‘em open n’ watch me all ngh- deeeep inside.”

Ino wasn’t giving you mercy, he wasn’t giving you even time to breathe before the very cum-capped tip of his cock reaches into your lungs. Carving out a stout, rotund bruise exactly on your sponged cervix, “One.” He counts - counts. “Two- three.” Every hit after hit to the ends of your gooey pussy that make you wail out in whimpers.

Your hands wrap around his craned neck, tangling with the sweat-matted curls at the base. “Are- are you gonna cum all hck! inside this time, Taku–?”

And how could he resist? He’s reaching up to ten before answering, a breathy pant of an answer. “Anything for you, sweetness…”

♡ GOJO SATORU - INFINITY?!

“Sweetheart, look- look at me.” Torrid clumps of spittle cling down Gojo’s lips in a shiny sheen, licked dripping wet as he takes in the sight of you all pretty underneath him and damn near swoons.

For the nth time tonight– you’d lost count.

The strongest frantically flaps his long lashes open, eyes bleary and hazed - your bedroom lights had long since shattered, and yet he was so honed in on you. On the way your slippery slope sloshes out with a creamy white pour of cum the second he slaps his sweltering crowned tip down. Thwack!

Octaves higher, wild. Gojo couldn’t even speak normally at this point- shit, you wonder if he was even thinking. “Look, sweetheart- o-oh my fuck, look.”

And you - you were so fucked dumb you could barely even breathe let alone twist your head ‘round to stare, teeth bitten cutely around the drenched edge of your silken pillow. “Please- please, Toru- d-dunno if I can fit any more…”

“Wh-what?” At this, the strongest has the audacity to flinch- fully bodily, his meaty thighs pressing down further on your ass to prevent you from squirming. You could count every tick and every flex of his calves as he pinned you down in the most lecherous, most raw prone bone ever.

A hot waft of breath empties out near your sensitive ear, “Y-you don’t ngh- mean that…do you?” Desperate. Fattened globs of something wet splatter on top of your shoulder, and only sultry moments later do you realize that you had him crying. Dewy sapphire eyes honed in on your expression of oh! “M-more- c’mon, say it- tell me what you want, my girl.”

Both you and the rickety bedsprings sing in unison as he rests his hefty weight over and smears a thick stripe of buttery pre where you were leaking out. Flooding, actually.

You were so wet that it’d formed a syrupy puddle, your ruined sheets sticking to your slammed skin as if they were made of glue. Because your dear husband had made sure to fill you up till the very brim, knotted ribbons of seed frothing at your entrance like a cap of icing.

Gojo rovers his hands near the base of your spine and arches you, “Again, c’mon- c’mon c’mon—” Your ears ring with a slobbering sluuuurp–! as his rounded mushroom tip leaves peck after peck on your sloppy hole. A huff of laughter vibrating his broad chest from behind you, “Look how loud- how p-pretty.” Yeah, those powerful eyes of his were locked on your dripping cunt. The way those dangling wires of slick streeetch ridiculously. “Look how badly she wants me- but I needa hear it from ngh- you, sweetheart.”

“F-from me?” You’re gurgling, and somewhere along the way he’s curling a dexterous hand around your throat to force you to look up.

He’s rutting into you like an animal - a promise of what was to come. “Mhm— you, my girl.” Those heart-shaped pupils of his finally dead-locking into yours- and a few axons in the air explode from simply the eye-contact. “Say it- say it. Tell me you wan’ me- want more. One more.”

He’d been saying one more for aaaaages now. For so many seconds and thirds and fourths.

If it was anyone but Gojo, then they wouldn’t have been able to catch the minute way your watery lips unfasted into a wobbly shape of something like ‘more’.

But this is Gojo Satoru - so of course, he notices.

“Wh-what was that?” He’s breathing out, globe-headed tip just starting to press against your awaiting pussy. Throb-throb-throbbing, his pounding vein massaging the hood of your clit. “Tell me- tell me what-”

One clammy palm of his reaches out to claw the crown of your head- whining for a second when his limitless flickers on and off. Feverish. Out of control. Gojo’s nose buries inside your throat to drink in your sexed-up scent, slobbering. “Tell your dear S-Satoru here, tell it allll t’me.”

“W-want it-”

“Want whaaat?”

“Want-” Your throat constricts with such a leaden ball of need, the saturated sweetness of it clogging your words. “-want you. Fuck me, Toru-”

And Gojo feels his ears pop! with pressure, every unbolted piece of furniture hovering numerous inches in the air when the strongest reels his toned hips back and slams you incredibly full.

So sensitive that the man flinches, head throwing back with a smoky groan of– “Oh. Ohhh m’n-never gettin’ tired of that.”

It’s a mind-numbing stretch, the taut pull of his girthy cock swabbing apart tender nooks and crevices that only he could. Mixing n’ matching new hefty piles of pre upon the remnants of seed he’d left behind prior. He was just so big.

Before you know it, Gojo’s rubbing one of his doughy-padded hands over your lower tummy. “Woah…” Eager tips of his fingers pressing down hard on the plump, cylindrical outline jutting out of you. “-can feel it-” Peripherals glowing, Six Eyes rendering him light-headed. “-can see it, sweetheart.”

Fuck- it’s about the fifth time that he was uttering those very words to you. And the simple sound of them had your thighs clenching, sticking together with a solid plap! of sprayed juices trapped in-between.

Gojo was so hot collapsing down into you like he was melting - everything from his pants, to his skin to his pace. Practically melting. A fast, pounding pummel over n’ over that rubbed your gummy walls raw every time he’s prodding about.

Can’t stop, won’t stop.

“Gonna- gonna fuck you, m’kay?” His pearly whites sinking down on your soft earlobe, Gojo’s grunts pour out after every slick gliiiide of his meaty muscled front down your prespired back. Up and down.

You think you count six- no, eight of his washboard abs before your cottony mind is put-together enough to mewl, “Y-you already- are. Fuck! Already f-fuckin’ me so deep, Satoru.”

“Oh…” Sexily half-lidded eyes of his fall down to where his viscerally fat length was prying your swollen folds apart. In and out. Split-ended tip rummaging up your gooey insides until hot pearly beads of cum were just oozing out with each thrust. “Oh.”

Was he seriously so pussydrunk that he’d forgotten? That it was the only thing on his mind?

You’re not getting too far with your half-formed thoughts until a few slender fingers drift over to toy with your knobbled clit and make your eyes swirl cartoonishly. “H-how’s it feel to keep the strongest ngh- hostage like th-this. To know m’not gonna go aaaaanywhere until I’ve plugged up this pretty pussy?”

Your heart races with the implications that his bass steeps primally in, “P-plugged up?”

“Mhm.” As if to prove his point, the rounded curvature of his tightened balls come spanking down near the treacly ends of your cunt. Enough to render you speechless, he floats his sensory touch over where a spurt of white was jetstreaming out. “Until I fill you up so much I c-can’t even fit anymore.”

Your vision’s flashing pure white, “And h-how will you do that?”

Oh- you were so fucked.

And if it wasn’t the way the bed was shifting- floating, then it was the way that something in the air shimmers with power. Your clit twitching as a few tendrils of buzzing cursed energy reach up your body with a low bzzzzzz–!

Whirling your droopy head to see that his pretty eyes were aglow, skin crackling with minuscule blue lightning.

“Gonna…” Gojo cracks a toothy smile - breathy, crazed. Canines gleaming with carnal slobber, “-mold you to my cock forever.”

♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - 6 rounds

Your boss, Higuruma, was mean - and he fucked even meaner.

Tangling a hand near the satin base of your tight, tight office skirt– one that he all but rips off entirely. A few scruffy tatters of it stuffed into your stupidly unfastened mouth, Higuruma takes one good look at you and takes you for hours on his very own desk.

The mahogany surfaces crackles underneath your clawing, a dopey smile splaying out across your face. Feeling the tattered glide of that condom that was ripping off, “Fuck- more, more– Hiromi.”

“Hiromi?” Higuruma’s grouchy baritone rings across your ears and makes your toes curl cutely, vibrations skittering right down to the dewy spot between your legs. And where it rained, it poured. Out with every rummaging pound being planted on your poor, dripping cunt. “Who the fuck is ‘Hiromi’, angel? Forgot m’your hck! boss after five rounds, huh? Guess m’just gonna hafta- hah- jog- that- memory back-”

And every rut had him stretching and stretching at your gluey walls until you saw white, the pointed probe of his pre-topped cockhead bludgeoning you so thoroughly.

Higuruma throws one of your jittery legs over his shoulders and slicks down a solid splash of viscous spittle, prying apart those glossily stained folds until they let off a ringing sluuurp–! “Ooo– look at you, say ‘thank you’.”

“Th-thank you…” A hefty spitball bubbles out of the edges of your pathetic maw, one that Higuruma wastes no time slouching over and licking away with the edges of his tongue himself.

“Mmm– always welcome, sugar.” The curvaceous fringe of his thumb comes slotting down between your slippery slit, pokin’ just inside to tug on your cozy ring of muscle. “Now how about we test that hah- streeeetch.” Digging right along the sleek flesh to let both his rigid length and his fingers pull you taut.

One of his frigidly cool rings snag on your flooded hole and make you whine– “Please- s’sooo much, Hiro- sir.”

“Now now- don’t whine, angel.” Higuruma’s bloating his cock up a few more mind-numbing millimeters in width, dilated pupils latches permanently on the way it makes your kiss-bitten lips fall into a cute oh! “You begged for this with this- damn skirt n’ that-”

A blazing bite on your lower lip, the corners of his mouth turns up into a leering snarl as your boss takes his languid time draaagging it away. “-this damn s-smile and-” Steady pace getting sloppy, achingly filthy. “-this fuckin’ pussy.”

Oh, your pussy was just yeowling with every ramming slam.

Soggy squelches that rang across all four walls and seeped through the paper-thin plaster of the office. Higuruma watches with a smile as you slap your hand over your mouth, “Now now, let ‘em hear-” Tracing a wet streak of buttery pre that sandwiches each of your sweet orifices, he’s targeting your adorable g-spot and striking it like a dartboard. “-how many rounds- how- how many times have I fucked you stupid, angel?”

“S-s…”

“Speak up.”

Fuck- he was so hot. With his clean-cut, billowing jacket haphazardly draping off, and the way that Higuruma’s hair was uncharacteristically unruly. Mussed-up strands plastering to the perspiration-stuck plane of his forehead, he looked crazed.

Hitting your pussy faster and faster, it was a slaughter fest. “Speak up speak up-”

“Six!” You’re squealing, gasping. Unsure of what came first - the drawling yelp of your whine or the way that you’re running headfirst into your high.

“Oh– filthy girl. Look how she’s ngh- throbbin’ f’me.”

So powerful that every peak of it flashes your vision with nothing but white, and you can only stare up ahead at Higuruma’s sinfully fucked-out expression while he bludgeoned your pussy raw. Lugging you through one peak, another peak, another, another-

Voice cracking with tears at the sheer overstimulation running through your body, “Hiromi- inside, please. Wan’ you inside-” Before you know it, your hand reaches down as if magnetized to caress the dark happy trail leading up to his base. “P-please?”

“Please…?”

“-w-with a hck! ch-cherry on top.”

And almost immediately, Higuruma grins. Depraved.

Pulling out with a spectacularly wet plop! he’s leaving you clenching around nothing for the briefest nanoseconds. Tearing off the mess of rubber that was once a condom - one that was way too small for his massive size.

Because Higuruma was so big that your thighs flinch at simply the idea of fitting all of him once more, mouth watering.

But that’s exactly what you do - in one, sloppy shuddering ram. All the way from his rounded, gummy-pink mushroom tip to the very hefty base. All those prominently veins snaking down your snug walls, vehemently. You’re feeling his hips shudder–

“Inside-” You echo, just about the only thing you can do right now. “-don’t miss. Don’t miss–”

“Think m’gonna miss?” One sappy smack on the awaiting slope of your pussy for you to get your lil’ act together, and another just for fun. “Just w-watch me–” His hissing growl makes you clench; dark brows furrowing, toned abdomen snapping, achy cockhead bursting. “-m’gonna fill her u-up until she fuuuck–! can’t take anymore.”

Your overfilling pussy feels like a slushy as the first few ribbons of cum strike your sloshing bottom. Practically feeling the swashing sensation of a goopy second layer cloaking your insides, and he doesn’t just orgasm once.

No- your dripping cunt is being fed with so many seconds and thirds and fourths. Gripping pussy swirlin’ around the glossy mess until it pinpoints every magical spot inside you.

“S-see?” Higuruma’s stern baritone wavers, unsteady. Stuttering. He’s smoothing over a few dumbstruck droplets of spittle that slip out of you, “There- your Hiromi doesn’t miss. There we go- are we happy now, hmmm–?”

And you can only nod and nod and nod, in awe of the oozing oodles of sappy liquid that stuck your thighs together. “Y-yes, Hiromi.”

“Mmm– call me your…husband?”

A/N. Mwahaha I sense ovulation is near…

Plagiarism not authorized.

9K notes · View notes

danysdaughter · 1 month ago

Text

I Think I Love You

pairing | fwb!bucky x new!avengers!reader

word count | 5.4k words

summary I You agreed to keep it casual—just sex, no feelings. But when loving Bucky in silence begins to break you, walking away is the only thing you can do… even if it destroys you both.

tags | Thunderbolts Spoilers??? I guess, tower fic, 18+ (MDNI), smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, obsessive!bucky, fem!reader, miscommunication, dumbasses in love, platonic!bob x reader

a/n | new acc, this was to cute to write. Enjoy! REQUESTS ARE OPEN

likes comments and reblogs are much appreciated ✨✨

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

divider by @cafekitsune

It was always like this.

His body above yours, surrounding you, drowning you in heat and hunger like you were oxygen to him. Like fucking you was the only way he knew how to breathe. Like if he didn’t bury himself inside you right now, he’d come apart at the seams.

Bucky kissed you like he was starving—mouth hot and bruising, tongue claiming yours with an edge of desperation that never quite dulled. His hands were everywhere, rough and sure, sliding under your tank, gripping your waist, dragging you beneath him like he was scared you’d vanish if he didn’t anchor you down.

You didn’t fight it. You never did.

Because this was the only version of him you could have—the one that came alive behind closed doors. The one who groaned your name like a curse when you kissed down his throat, who pulled your panties down with shaking hands, who slid into you with a sound like it hurt to finally be inside you.

“Fuck, doll,” he rasped, forehead pressed to yours, hips grinding into you deep and slow. “You always feel so fuckin’ good. You were made for me.”

God, it sounded like love. It always did.

His mouth found your neck again, biting gently, sucking bruises into your skin like a claim no one would ever see. And your hands clutched his back, nails digging in, legs wrapping tighter around his waist as you rocked your hips up to meet every thrust.

You wanted to believe this was real. That it meant something more. That the way he looked at you—eyes dark and blown wide, lips parted, breath ragged—wasn’t just lust.

But you knew better.

You’d agreed to this.

No feelings. No mess. Just heat and need and late nights tangled in sweat-soaked sheets.

Still, you craved it—him—in ways you couldn’t admit. Not even to yourself.

Bucky fucked you like you were a secret he couldn’t bear to keep. His metal hand gripped your thigh, forcing it higher around his hip, while his other tangled in your hair, tugging gently to expose your throat. He licked a stripe up your neck and groaned when you whimpered.

“Don’t hold back, baby,” he said, voice low and rough. “Wanna hear you.”

You moaned for him, because you always did.

And he gave you everything. Thrust after thrust, deep and controlled, like he was trying to memorize the shape of you from the inside out. Your bodies moved together like muscle memory—practiced, perfect.

You cried out when he hit that spot, again and again, stars bursting behind your eyelids as your orgasm built too fast to control. He felt it—knew it—and his grip tightened, pace faltering just slightly as he pressed harder, deeper.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he growled. “Come on, give it to me.”

You shattered.

Your body seized around him, nails raking down his back, mouth falling open in a silent cry as pleasure tore through you in waves. And Bucky? He didn’t stop. He chased his own release through the pulsing grip of your cunt, moaning your name like a promise he’d never make aloud.

“Fuck—gonna come—shit, fuck—” he gasped, slamming into you once more before spilling inside with a groan so raw it made your chest ache.

He collapsed against you, face buried in your neck, his breath hot and ragged.

You held him, like you always did. Tangled in the afterglow, skin slick with sweat, hearts still racing. And for a moment, you let yourself pretend.

That maybe this time would be different.

That maybe he’d stay.

That maybe he'd roll off of you, cup your cheek, and tell you he couldn’t keep pretending this didn’t mean something.

But instead, he sighed. A soft, satisfied sound. Then rolled onto his back, pulling his arm behind his head.

He didn’t look at you.

He never did after.

You stared at the ceiling, heart pounding in your throat, your body warm and full and hollow all at once.

And all you could think was:

I want him to touch me like that in the daylight.

I want him to want me when we’re not naked.

But he didn’t. Or wouldn’t. Or couldn’t.

You weren’t sure which hurt more.

The kitchen in the tower was quiet, save for the soft clatter of a cutting board and the low simmer of something bubbling on the stove. You stood at the counter, knife in hand, carefully dicing onions while Bob sat beside you, his own cutting board a chaotic mess of uneven pepper slices and cucumber spears.

He was squinting at the vegetables like they’d wronged him personally.

“I swear,” he said, furrowing his brow as he tried to slice a tomato without completely demolishing it, “these things are out to get me. Slippery little bastards.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “You don’t have to help, you know.”

“No, I want to. It’s… nice.” He shrugged. “Domestic. Also, I read somewhere it builds team trust or something. Shared food prep.”

You snorted. “Where’d you read that?”

“A Reddit thread about Dungeons & Dragons, actually.”

You laughed for real that time. “Of course.”

The smell of garlic and rosemary floated through the air. The oven clicked softly as it preheated. Outside the window, the sky was grey and moody—classic New York—but there was something warm about the kitchen. Safe. Familiar. Even with the quiet ache in your chest that you were pretending wasn’t there.

You kept chopping. So did he. Or tried to.

“Y’know,” Bob said after a beat, holding up a mutilated chunk of bell pepper, “I don’t think I’m ever gonna be a culinary genius. Might have to accept that my gifts lie elsewhere.”

“Like sitting on the couch and watching TV?”

“And comic relief,” he added proudly. “Two very underappreciated superpowers.”

You gave him a sidelong look, smirking. “You’re not wrong.”

He grinned. Then, more softly, “I like this, though. Being part of a team. Even if it’s weird sometimes. Even if people yell. Or punch through walls. Or if Alexei keeps pitching us matching uniforms with capes.”

You snorted again, setting down your knife. “He has been obsessed with that lately.”

“Right?” Bob said, picking at a cucumber slice. “But even with all the chaos, it’s good. I never really had this before. A group. People who give a damn. Who check in. It’s like… like being part of a weird, violent little family. And I know I’m not the most… stable, but I feel like—like I’m seen. Cared for. Loved, even. Not in the romantic sense—though Walker did call me ‘acceptable’ once, which I’m counting as progress.”

You laughed softly again—but it was different this time. Quieter. Shorter.

Bob didn’t seem to notice.

He kept talking, absently stacking pepper pieces into a leaning tower. “I don’t know. It just hit me earlier when Alexei dragged me to look at fabric swatches, and he was complaining about the thread count like we were planning a wedding. I was like… this is insane. But also—this is nice. Like I matter. Like I belong.”

The sting started slow. So faint you barely noticed it at first.

A tightness behind your eyes. A pull at the corners of your mouth. Something twisting low in your stomach like a warning bell you were trying very hard to ignore.

Bob looked over at you with an easy smile, still speaking, voice gentler now. “I guess I just wanted to say… I’m glad I’m here. I’m glad I get to be around people who give a damn. That’s why I love being on this team.”

And just like that—it cracked.

The sting sharpened. The pressure behind your eyes pulsed hot, and your throat closed up around the sudden, suffocating weight of it.

Because all you could think was:

God, I want that too.

To feel loved. Chosen. Not just useful when someone needed to blow off steam. Not just fucked behind closed doors and forgotten in the light of day.

You bit the inside of your cheek hard, forcing yourself to blink fast, to keep your head down, to move your hands like nothing was wrong. But the tears came anyway—silent, slow, slipping down your cheeks before you could stop them.

You tried to wipe them away subtly, turning toward the sink, pretending to rinse your hands. But it wasn’t subtle enough.

“Whoa—oh no,” Bob said, his eyes going wide. “Did I—did I say something wrong?”

You shook your head quickly, facing away. “No. No, it’s not you. I swear.”

He stood up beside you, hovering awkwardly, clearly panicking. “Is it the peppers? I knew I was butchering them. I knew they looked sad but I didn’t think they were tear-worthy—”

A shaky laugh broke out of you, even as you tried to wipe your face. “Bob, no. Stop. It’s not your fault.”

He hesitated, frowning deeply, hands fidgeting at his sides. “Is it—do you want me to go? I didn’t mean to mess anything up—”

You turned to him, eyes red, cheeks wet, and smiled—small and painful.

“I just… needed to hear that,” you said softly. “What you said. About being seen. Cared for. Loved.”

Bob’s face softened immediately. “Oh. Oh. I get it. I’m sorry.”

“No,” you said again, shaking your head, voice barely a whisper now. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He reached out, then hesitated, then finally rested a hand gently on your hand. “For what it’s worth… I think whoever’s making you feel like you’re not those things is an idiot.”

You gave him a wobbly smile, another tear slipping free. “Yeah.”

Bob didn’t ask more. He didn’t need to. And you were grateful for that.

Instead, he just stood with you in the quiet hum of the kitchen, as the smell of dinner simmered in the background and the sky outside darkened to evening.

And all you could think—over and over—was:

I can’t do this anymore.

The second the quinjet touched down, Bucky unbuckled and stood, impatient fingers already tugging off his gloves. He barely registered Yelenas's debrief, or the way Ava elbowed him and muttered something about getting sleep for once. He just nodded and walked out, barely hearing her call after him.

He didn’t want sleep.

He wanted you.

He’d been thinking about you the entire mission. About the way you always curled up on the couch when you thought no one was watching. The way you’d made blueberry muffins the morning before they left and snuck him one while everyone else was busy fighting over the coffee machine. The way your eyes crinkled when you smiled—just for him.

No one had to know.

No one did know.

And that made it easier to pretend this wasn’t killing him.

That this wasn’t something he wanted every damn day.

He reached your hallway before he even realized how fast he’d been walking. It was late—11:07 by the glowing red digits on the hallway clock. Most of the tower was asleep. But your light was still on.

He exhaled through his nose, rolling his shoulders back, nerves flaring. He always got like this before seeing you. Like some teenager with a crush instead of a 100-year-old ex-assassin who’d watched entire countries fall.

But you made him feel… different. Human.

He raised his hand and knocked, soft and firm.

And then the door opened—and there you were.

A soft lime green nightgown hugged your body in a way that made his breath catch. It clung to your curves, all sleepy and ethereal and warm, and for a second, all he could do was look at you.

His chest ached.

God, you were beautiful.

He didn’t wait. He didn’t think. He reached out, cupping your face in both hands, drawing you in like a man starved for warmth and memory. His lips found yours—soft, reverent, desperate. He kissed you like you were the last safe thing he had.

And then your hands pressed against his chest.

Not pulling him closer.

Pushing him away.

He pulled back, blinking. His brows knit together. “What’s wrong?”

You looked up at him, eyes already glossy, mouth parted like the words hurt too much to say. “Bucky… we need to stop.”

His stomach dropped.

The hallway suddenly felt ice cold.

“What?” His voice cracked, quiet and rough. “What do you mean?”

You looked down, fingers curling into the fabric of your nightgown, and stepped back just slightly. “What we’ve been doing… this… it needs to end.”

It hit him like a punch to the ribs. All the breath knocked from his lungs.

“I—I don’t understand,” he said. “Did I do something? Say something? If I—”

“No,” you cut in gently, and it broke him how kind your voice still was. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why?” He was still holding your gaze, desperate. “Is it… is it someone else?”

You hesitated.

That was enough of an answer.

You nodded once. “I’ve… met someone. And this would complicate things.”

The lie hung between you like smoke. Fragile. Choking.

Bucky swallowed hard. His hands had dropped to his sides, and he clenched them into fists before forcing them open again. He was trying to stay calm. He had no right to be angry. You weren’t his.

You’d never been his.

But still, the ache that bloomed in his chest was unbearable. His heart was thundering, cracking in real time as he stared at you, unblinking.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to tell you that no one could touch you the way he could. That no one could possibly know you the way he did. He wanted to grab you, beg you not to leave him in the dark again.

But he didn’t.

Because you deserved better than that.

You always had.

He cleared his throat, voice suddenly hoarse and distant. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”

You blinked at him, a flicker of pain crossing your face. Then you leaned in, so gently it almost made him flinch, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Soft. Final.

“Goodnight, Bucky.”

You stepped back inside your room.

And the door closed.

He stood there for a long time.

He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

Just stared at the closed door like he could will it to open again. Like maybe if he stayed still long enough, this wouldn’t be real.

But it was.

And all he could think was:

You found someone else.

You—the one person who made him feel like maybe he wasn’t ruined. Who baked for the team. Who held him after nightmares without asking questions. Who looked at him like he wasn’t just the Winter Soldier, or some washed-up relic, or some broken man with too much blood on his hands.

You looked at him like he was worth something.

And now you were gone.

He backed away slowly, footsteps hollow against the corridor floor, heart pounding like it was trying to claw its way out.

It was just supposed to be sex.

It was never supposed to hurt like this.

It started small.

You weren’t avoiding Bucky—not outright. But you were pulling away, and he felt it in every single subtle shift like a blade under the skin.

No more soft smiles in the hallway.

No more plates quietly set in front of him when you made dinner.

You still said “hey” in passing, still nodded when he entered the room, still asked if he wanted coffee when the whole team was around—but your eyes didn’t linger anymore. You didn’t touch him. You didn’t look at him the same way.

And that quiet, gentle retreat was worse than a clean break.

Because it gave him just enough to hope. And not enough to hold.

It drove him mad.

He tried to play it cool. Tried to remind himself that you’d made your choice—that you’d moved on. That there was someone else. But the words haunted him like a ghost he couldn’t punch, couldn’t outpace.

Who the fuck was he?

Where did you meet him?

Was he better than Bucky? Was that it?

Was he stable, normal, sweet? Did he hold you in the morning, trace your spine with soft fingers, kiss your forehead and mean it?

The thoughts ran wild in his mind like wildfire. And soon, it stopped being curiosity. It became need. Obsessive. All-consuming.

He started watching. Not you—he couldn’t stomach how far away you already felt. No, he watched everyone else.

Was it someone on the team?

Someone new?

Someone from missions? The tower? That goddamn bar you liked downtown?

He noticed every time you laughed at someone else’s joke. Every time you left a room too quickly. Every time your phone lit up and your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. It was driving him insane.

And it didn’t take long before he cracked.

──────────────────

“Seen her with anyone lately?”

Ava didn’t look up from the security feed she was reviewing. “What?”

He cleared his throat, leaned against the console like this wasn’t eating him alive. “Y’know. She’s been… out more. Wondered if you’d noticed her with someone.”

Ava gave him a look that said you have five seconds before I tear this conversation apart with a crowbar. “She’s not a suspect, Barnes.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “Didn’t mean it like that. Just—wondered.”

She paused. “You checking up on her?”

He shrugged. “Just being observant.”

“Then observe your own damn lane,” she muttered, turning back to her screen. “She’s allowed to have a life.”

──────────────────

The next day, he tried John.

“Any idea who she’s been seeing?”

Walker blinked at him, halfway through microwaving a bowl of instant mac and cheese in the lounge. “She told you she’s seeing someone?”

“Yeah.”

John stirred his pasta slowly. “Huh.”

Bucky waited.

John shrugged. “I mean, good for her, I guess.”

Bucky clenched his jaw. “That’s not helpful.”

“Neither is asking around like a jealous ex.” He looked up. “You okay, man?”

“I’m fine,” Bucky snapped.

John gave him a long look, then went back to his mac and cheese.

──────────────────

Yelena was less gentle.

“Are you drunk?” she asked, one eyebrow raised as she watched him pace the kitchen while you chatted with Bob across the room.

“No.”

“Then you sound like a madman.” She sipped her tea. “You are obsessed.”

“I’m just—”

“You had her,” she interrupted, calm and sharp as a knife. “You had her when it counted. And now you’re circling like a lonely wolf because someone else has her?”

“You knew about us?“

“I am a literal spy, Bucky.”

“I just don’t know who it is.”

“You’re not entitled to know,” she said simply, and walked away.

──────────────────

Alexei was worse.

“She has mystery man, huh?” he said, delighted, cracking open a beer like they were old pals trading war stories. “Ah, young love! Reminds me of my fourth love—no, fifth. It was confusing time. She had beautiful thighs. We met during a snowstorm, and she carried me to safety like bear.”

Bucky stared at him, hollow-eyed.

Alexei clapped a massive hand on his shoulder. “You cannot compete with new love, my friend. It is fire. It is danger. But! Sometimes fire burns out. And when it does, you be there with flowers. Or your shirt off. Both work.”

Bucky did not thank him.

──────────────────

And then there was Bob.

Goddamn Bob.

Bucky cornered him while he was grabbing cookies from the kitchen. Big mistake number two. He tried to sound as casual as possible.

“So, uh. You and her hang out sometimes, right?”

Bob blinked, brow furrowing. “Uh… yeah? She’s awesome.”

“She’s been acting different. With me.”

Bob fidgeted, clutching a cookie like a shield. “I mean, she’s been normal with me. Maybe a little sad? But also like, really pretty. But she’s always pretty, so that’s—uh—not relevant.”

Bucky stepped closer. Bob stepped back, hitting the counter.

“I was joking, Bucky. Please don’t punch me.”

Bucky took a deep breath, backed off. “Sorry.”

He didn’t mean to scare him.

He just couldn’t take it anymore.

──────────────────

It didn’t help. None of it did.

Because no one knew—or if they did, they weren’t telling.

And every time he saw you, something inside him twisted.

The way you laughed with Ava over your shared playlist. The way you sat on the arm of the couch next to John during a debrief. The way you ruffled Bob’s hair like a big sister, patient and teasing.

He saw you with everyone.

And he didn’t know which of them you were fucking.

Which of them made you smile when you looked at your phone.

Which of them got to hold you the way he used to—like you were theirs.

And it was killing him.

He started losing sleep. His nights were spent pacing his room, replaying every kiss, every laugh, every small moment with you. He couldn’t go to the kitchen without thinking of you cooking in it. Couldn’t walk by your room without hearing your voice.

Because the truth was, he hadn’t stopped wanting you.

Not for a second.

But he hadn’t thought he deserved you.

He’d told himself it was better this way. That he couldn’t be what you needed. That he was too broken, too guarded, too haunted.

He didn’t want to drag you into his shadows.

But now you were in someone else’s light.

And Bucky Barnes—super soldier, ex-Winter Soldier, world-class killer—was unraveling.

One glance. One silence. One laugh that wasn’t his to earn.

At a time.

It had been two weeks.

Two weeks since that night at your door. Since you told him you were seeing someone. Since your lips brushed his cheek like a goodbye that had already been decided, like the end of a story he hadn’t realized was even being written.

And still—no one.

Not a name. Not a face. Not even a damn clue.

No late-night laughter through thin walls. No footsteps sneaking down hallways. No signs of you sneaking off to a date. You still had the same quiet routines. The same soft smile when Bob told one of his nervous jokes. The same stretch in the mornings when you walked into the kitchen with sleepy eyes and socks that didn’t match.

But different.

He still watched you.

Not like before—when he’d admire the slope of your shoulders, the way your nose scrunched when you were concentrating, or how your hands always smelled faintly like vanilla and cinnamon. No, now he watched you with something closer to desperation.

He was trying to catch you.

Catch you in a lie. Catch you with him. The one who apparently meant enough to end everything you and Bucky had.

But nothing ever happened.

Instead, he saw things that confused him more.

You started going out on your own more often—midday errands, little walks, solo grocery runs even though there was food delivery and team shoppers. And he followed once.

Not to spy, he told himself.

Just to know.

You walked into a bookstore first. Wandered the aisles slowly. Bought two paperbacks and left without speaking to anyone. Then you stopped by a florist—picked out a single bouquet of fresh lilies, something subtle and quiet.

He expected you to deliver it to someone.

But instead, you brought it back to the tower and placed it on the dining table. Just something to brighten the space, like you always did.

You went to the park next. Sat on a bench. Ate a pastry. Fed the ducks.

Alone.

He watched from across the street, feeling something cold settle in his chest.

When you returned, he waited a few hours before asking Yelena—casually, as he always did, which fooled absolutely no one anymore.

“You know where she went today?”

Yelena raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “She went to clear her head. Like normal people.”

“Not with anyone?”

“Do you think she is incapable of being alone? Because that says more about you, Barnes.”

He didn’t answer.

He stopped asking questions after that.

Because it was dawning on him—slowly, painfully, in pieces—that there was no “someone else.” There never had been.

You hadn’t lied to hurt him. You’d lied to protect yourself.

And he had made you feel like you had to.

The thought made him sick.

He started noticing more, then—not just your absence, but the echo of what used to be. How you still made muffins for the team on Mondays. How you always passed out Advil after training. How you left soft music playing in the kitchen while cooking like you didn’t know anyone was listening. How you still took care of everyone except yourself.

He noticed how tired you looked sometimes. How your smile faltered when no one was looking. How your laugh had a hollow note now—like it had to fight its way out.

He noticed how you stopped meeting his eyes entirely.

And he finally asked himself what he had been to you.

Not just the sex. Not just the soft groans in the dark or the way your body curved into his like you were made for him.

But the mornings.

The muffins.

The hand you placed on his back after nightmares.

The way you listened when no one else could see he was slipping.

The way you waited—patient, hopeful—for something more from him.

And he hadn’t given it.

Not because he didn’t want to.

Because he thought he couldn’t.

He had told himself he wasn’t ready. That he was too broken. That he would only ruin something good and pure if he touched it too deeply. But the truth was, he’d already touched it. You had given him your heart in small, quiet ways, and he hadn’t even noticed until it was gone.

And now you were hurting, silently, because of him. Because you’d fallen for someone who told you not to. And he’d let you think he didn’t feel the same.

Until now.

He couldn’t sit still.

He’d tried. For two days. Two full fucking days since the realization broke through him like a goddamn lightning strike—and he’d tried to be patient. Tried to breathe. Tried to think.

But he wasn’t thinking anymore.

He was moving.

Searching.

Every room. Every hallway. The kitchen, the gym, your room—empty. He was spinning, chest tight, mouth dry, pacing like an addict itching for a fix, until finally—

Laughter.

The living room.

His boots hit the floor fast. He rounded the corner and stopped.

You were there. On the couch.

You, Bob, and Yelena.

Golden Girls was playing—Dorothy mid-quip, the volume just low enough to keep conversation alive. You were laughing, body relaxed, tucked into the corner with a blanket over your legs and a mug in your hand.

And he didn’t hesitate.

He walked straight in. Right past Bob’s curious look. Right past Yelena’s raised brow.

Straight to you.

You looked up immediately, your smile faltering when you saw his face. The tension in his shoulders. The storm in his eyes.

“Bucky?” you asked, sitting up. “Are you okay—?”

“I think I love you.”

It spilled out of him like it had been waiting behind his teeth for weeks.

You blinked.

Bob’s mouth dropped open mid-sip.

Yelena turned fully toward him, brows lifted to her hairline.

He didn’t care.

“No—” Bucky swallowed hard. “No, that’s not right. I know I love you.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed, lips parted slightly. Stunned.

Bucky’s heart pounded against his ribs, chest tight and burning. “I know it’s not the way I should’ve told you. And I know I don’t—fuck, I don’t deserve to say it after everything I didn’t say before. But I need you to hear me now.”

You still didn’t say anything. Just stared.

Then your hand twitched. Slid to your opposite arm.

And you started pinching your skin.

Bucky’s brow furrowed. “What… what are you doing?”

Your voice was breathy, soft. “Trying to wake up.”

“What?”

“I’m pinching myself,” you said, barely louder than a whisper. “Trying to wake up. Because there’s no way this is actually happening.”

Bucky felt something in him break.

He took a shaky breath, stepping closer, dropping to his knees in front of you. His voice was rough but steady now.

“It’s real. I swear to you, it’s real.”

You stared at him like he was a ghost. Like he wasn’t allowed to be saying this.

“I’ve been losing my mind,” he continued, voice cracking slightly. “Thinking there was someone else. Trying to believe you’d moved on because it was easier than facing the truth.”

You swallowed hard, but didn’t speak.

“And the truth is—I was scared.” He laughed, humorless, shaking his head. “I thought I wasn’t enough. That I’d mess it up. That I couldn’t give you what you deserve.”

He looked up at you now, eyes wide, glassy.

“But then I realized… you are what I deserve. You’re everything. You’re the reason this damn place feels like home. You cook for us even when no one thanks you. You remember everyone’s coffee orders. You make playlists for Bob and knit Ava a goddamn scarf even though she acts like she doesn’t care. You bake when you’re anxious, and I fucking love when you bake. You hum when you clean. You take care of everyone and let yourself break when no one’s looking.”

He reached up, brushing your arm where you’d been pinching.

“And I didn’t see it. Not really. Not until it was too late.”

A beat.

Then, softly—“But maybe it’s not too late.”

Yelena had stopped breathing. Bob looked like he might cry. But none of them mattered right now.

Just you.

Bucky’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I love you. And I’m sorry it took me so long to figure it out. But I know it now. And I’m not running from it anymore.”

You didn’t say anything for a long moment.

Just looked down at him.

And your eyes… your eyes were full.

You couldn’t breathe.

He was on his knees in front of you, staring up with those wide, heartbreak-blue eyes, his voice still echoing in your ears like a song you hadn’t heard in years but somehow still knew all the words to.

I love you.

And now he was waiting—watching—like his whole world depended on what you were going to say next.

Your throat felt thick. Your heart was pounding so hard you were surprised no one else could hear it. You blinked fast, trying to keep your vision clear, but the tears were already threatening to fall.

You stared at him for a long moment, lips trembling, and whispered, “Promise me this isn’t a dream.”

Bucky’s breath caught. He reached up, brushing your cheek so gently it made your chest ache. “It’s not,” he said, voice wrecked. “It’s not, baby. I swear.”

And then you saw the moment he broke.

The last thread of restraint snapped, and suddenly he was rising—leaning in, closing the space between you before you could even think.

His lips met yours, soft and trembling at first—almost reverent—then deeper, hungrier, like he couldn’t bear to hold back another second. You gasped into his mouth, one hand flying to his jaw, the other looping around his neck, pulling him in like you were afraid he might vanish.

He groaned against you, like the sound of your mouth opening for him undid something inside him.

And then he climbed onto the couch, practically on top of you, bracing one knee beside your hip as he leaned down, his hands burying themselves in your hair. Your back hit the cushions, breath caught in your throat, and the world narrowed to the heat of his mouth, the feel of his body pressed into yours, the desperate, perfect weight of him finally, finally there.

His thumb stroked the line of your jaw as he kissed you again, deeper now, and you let yourself sink into it. Into him.

Until—

“…Guys?” Yelena’s voice cut in, dry and deeply unimpressed. “We are still here.”

You froze.

Bucky pulled back just slightly, resting his forehead to yours, his lips still hovering over yours, his chest rising and falling like he’d just run ten miles. You were both breathless, giddy, flushed.

“I forgot they were here,” you whispered, blinking up at him.

“Me too,” he said, smiling against your cheek.

From the other end of the couch, Bob cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “Sooo… should we leave now?”

“No,” Yelena snapped immediately. “We were here first. This was very sweet two minutes ago, and now it’s making me deeply uncomfortable.”

You laughed into Bucky’s shoulder, muffling the sound.

He just chuckled and kissed your temple before whispering, “Still not a dream, I swear.”

You smiled up at him, and for the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel like something you had to fake.

It felt real.

Because it was.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #thunderbolts #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x female reader #james buchanan barnes #thunderbolts bucky

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screampied · 6 months ago

Text

𝜗𝜚 P*$$Y FAIRY ?!

☆ sum. when you said you wanted to ‘milk him’ for all that he’s worth, he didn’t think you meant actually! toji, nanami, sukuna, choso, geto, gojo.

warnings. fem! reader, unprotected, LOTSSS of cum and balls and more… cum, milkin’ them dry, cowboy! toji, camboy! choso, condom breaks, sukuna lactates, nipplę play, slight usage of "mommy", cowgirl / reverse, bręeding, overstim, whiny whipped men, pregnancy mentions, praise, implied multiple rounds.

SUKUNA ★ RYOMEN.

“h- hah, got.. some nerve,” sukuna growls, a good portion of his face burning with crimsoned embarrassment. sukuna’s securely strapped to his throne—and to top it all off, you had him wrapped in pink ribbons. sukuna’s brawny frame underneath you grew stiff, and he let out a shallow groan once you lecherously wind your hips back ‘round in a circle. he felt sooo full - his base was just pleading to be dumped, dumped inside of you for the third time.

not only were you milking him - you were also milking his pride too.

“brat, you’re gettin’ off on this arentcha?” sukuna grumbles with a pout, hearing each popping plap slap from between your dripping wet thighs. from to the very plump bottom, his cock’s already still a bit foamy from earlier. you lean into his bare chest, smugly snickering against his neck. “mmm- ffuuuck, don’t . . don’t stop though. that’s an orde-”

and right as he’s grunting mid-sentence, sukuna pauses. carmine eyes flicker at a sudden head that’s leisurely lowering against his pecs. it’s you, and as you’re still bouncing on his lap, he feels your wet, hot tongue slide a path across his sensitive nipple. “ngh-” sukuna’s nostrils flare, and it’s taking almost everything within him to not whine.

until he does.

your hips roll roll roooolls around in swift, addictive circles as you cup your lips around his pec. “mmh,” you hummed, feeling his big body writhe underneath you as your hips slowed their tempo. you could hear his cute growls as he couldn’t do anything but sit right — the pink, pretty ribbons were straight-up mockery.

sukuna could have honestly just torn them apart - besides, they weren’t even properly tied around his limbs (which he secretly found cute) but he decided to play along with your little fantasy.

but just a few seconds passed and it happened.

you feel a treacly, sweet taste in your mouth— and it pours pour pours, tickling down on your tastebuds entirely. blinking rapidly, your hips pause before you swipe the pad of your thumb across your lips that are dripping with the creamy, white droplet.

“ ‘kuna, did you just . . lactate?”

“tch. die,” he mumbles, and his face looks so lewd.

sukuna’s pink brows were parted and his mouth was pried wide open. he’s panting - heaving, raspy breath after breath leaves from his drooling lips before his fangs get caught with his tongue.

“and don’t- don’t call it that, woman. just- keep going. ‘m close. soso fuckin’ close.”

gliding the tip of your balmy, tepid tongue over toward his other neglected nipple—sukuna shudders. you couldn’t lie, him being wrapped in nothing but pink ribbons like a present while sitting on his notorious throne was a sight you honestly wouldn’t mind getting used to.

“mmm, not with that attitude,” and he moans, feeling you starting to suck against his hardened pecs. “ask nicely,” and you give him a cheeky smile, reaching a hand down to stroke a few sloppy pumps against his cock. it was such a mess - streams ‘n streams of foamy slick everywhere, drizzling down between the cracks of your legs and sticking onto sukuna’s beefy toned thighs. “m’lord.”

“you’re tryin’ me. how dare you defy m- ngh- i’m sensitive.. thereee,” and sukuna shivers beneath you, feeling your tongue glide across his nipples for another time. even still, he’s leaking as you rode him, wrapping your arms around his thick neck. sukuna’s lids were getting heavy - drooping lowly as he hears the wet plaps of your pussy milking him dry.

he’s about to shoot blanks again, and sukuna’s mind actually turns blank once he feels the edges of your teeth nip against his pec. “mmngh-”

“mhm, c’mon ‘kuna. inside,” you whisper, both thighs sloppily sticking together like glue. your cunt’s just so eager, swallowing all of his barbaric hungry pumps until his tip swiiiipes its way near your throbbing clit thrice. spit dribbles from your lips as you speak and he watches, grunting each time his cock twitches inside of you.

you’re making sure to roll your hips - sway after sway, and right as you pinch his other leaking nipple you hear him whine.

sukuna prowls gruffly against your ear, wrapping strong, bulky arms around your waist as your body ruts into his.

his dick’s pouring yet another spumy load of cum and that’s when you started to come to a slow. he’s melting like putty - inside you especially, and sukuna starts to pant as he feels your tongue lick up the last bittersweet-tasting remnants that spill from his chest.

“ugh- such a nasty, ‘lil thing,” he holds the back of your head, darting half-lidded ruddy eyes at you. a thumb glissades over your wet lips and he groans as he sees you giving the tip of his tongue a playful nibble. “wipe that grin off your lips, girl.”

“or what? you gonna lactate again for me?” you tease, stilling your hips as his cock that’s now flaccidly soft, oozes its last final spurts of cum. right away, sukuna shoots you a glowering glare, but it’s more of a pout because he’s already missing your lips wrapped around his swollen, reddened nipples.

only you know his two weakness.

you, and his overly sensitive nipples.

“s- shut up,” he tsks, letting off a hoarse, raspy breath once peeks down and sees the buttery, white ring bubbling around his base. sukuna’s been entirely milked, and judging from him seeping his fangs lightly into your neck to suppress his faint whimpers, he only wanted more. “keep.. just keep . . doin’ that,” and sukuna swallows, gently tracing circles around your thighs with his whetted nails.

“keep suckin’ here,” he gingerly guides your head near the bottom of his pecs - it’s far redder now, glossed with dewdrops of your saliva while it’s still drizzling from the puffed centers. it wasn’t even like sukuna was telling you anymore, he was desperately asking.

“please..”

SUGURU ★ GETO.

“milk me, yeah?” geto raises a ravened brow, his voice almost taunting you. his tone - it’s always as smooth as silk, the type of tone to make your thighs squeeze together in anticipation. it had the perfect amount of rasp with a pinch of slyness too.

as you gave him a smug smile—he’s inhaling, preparing for a deep, heavy breath as he sees you sinking back down on his cock.

it’s pulsing, fluttering around your insides as it disappears between your dripping folds, earning a low scratchy hum from him. “do.. hhah- your worst then,” he raises his head, sweat already tearing from every corner of his sleek forehead.

and oh, you do.

one moment, you’re slamming up and down on his fat cock, the next—you’re riding him in reverse. but not only that. all because of the never-ending rolls of your frenetic hips, you milked geto for hours.

his muscles prominently bulged through all the weighty sides of his cock, and he’s sweating profusely, keeping hooded, darkened eyes fixated on you the entire time.

“ugh-” he’d groan, hiccuping at each popping squelch of your cunt. it sounds so pretty in a way.

between your legs - you were forever vocal, letting off occasional sloshing sounds as you slammed up and down against his cock. geto was just downright big ‘n thick, and every single time, he stretched your orifices open like it was nothing. you’re moaning with him, facing directly in front of him while wispy, hot breaths collide against both open mouths.

“ ‘m not sure if i have enough for you this time, princess,” he jibes, tears of sweat racing down the thin edges of his arched brows. “y- you milked me so good.. mmgh- this new stamina of yours though, ‘m lovin’ it.”

“sugu-” you moan against his mouth, bringing sultry kiss after kiss toward all corners and sides of his twitching, rose-colored lips. speaking of lips, they were dripping with strings of his spit, softly sucking against his quivering lower lip as your ass continued to sway around in a circle.

you’re riding him like you were riding a boat, rocking back and forth with your cunt nearly drowning him from how unapologetically wet you were. “ ‘m close, ‘m so close, suguru.” the frantic, unsteady beats of your heart were starting to pick up and it was so loud that it sounded nearly identical to broken, defeaning speakers.

the bed was much louder than you both, screaming out groans of mercy as its creaks nearly drowned out all lustful moans and grunts that sang through the fogged, steamy air..

“yeaah, yeah- gonna cum on me, pretty girl?” geto groans, cupping a hand around one of your bouncy breasts. you whimpered at his gentle touch, your thighs merely sticking against each other from the remnants of pasty cum. geto’s girth of his dick widely expands inside of your clamping walls, and he could feel your legs trying desperately to not squeeze shut.

leaning his head to level up with your chest— he slides his tongue across ‘n around your sensitive nipples - giving it a nice, proper lick. with a loud ‘pop’ that echo from his lips—geto’s half-open eyes look at you while he’s talking with his mouth stuffed full of one of your tits. “mngh- my horny messy girl wants me to get really fuckin’ milked, hm? ‘s that why she’s bein’ so greedy today?”

as he’s still filling you up with his veiny, big inches, you can feel your tongue starting to salivate from the inside with impatience. “ ‘m cummin’ - hahh, cum with me, sugu pleaseplease,” you’re whining, the curling of your thrusting hips accelerating faster.

your arduous speed had the bed groaning louder, and geto’s grunting in your ear once his base’s feeling fuller than ever. with hot pounds of skin against skin roughly slapping against each other after each second, the two of you felt the same pangs of pleasure and fervent dizziness. “inside, in-fuckin’-siiiide.”

“ay,” he pops his lips away from your tit before giving it its final loving suck, squeezing your cheeks together. “pretty girl, ‘m gonna getcha full again but you better watch that mouth,” geto eyes you, sneaking a wet, hot kiss against your trembling lips. your body’s just drenched with sweat, and his cock’s searching through your insides while locating all the exact spots perfectly.

clit - check! g-spot - check! a-spot - check!

geto’s swollen crown of his cock was wiiiide, and it made sure to give each erogenous spot inside of your pussy its deserved kisses.

big, grabby hands hold onto your jerking waist and he’s winding your hips against his lap while your mind’s turning into straight mush. it’s all thanks to geto bouncing you up ‘n down on his dick that you could barely think straight. the only thing that was thinking in your mind was that you wanted him to fill you up over and fuckin’ over . .

the incoming high was inevitable - heavenly even, and it’s like a rush that never stops overwhelming through your bloodstream. deeply, the sticky prints of his thumbs pierce into your flesh, and you could see his adam’s apple bobbing once he finally cums. at the same time, you finished too and the feeling was simply orgasmic - literally.

another load bubbles into your cunt as your rotating ass comes to a sudden freeze. shared, breathy breaths fall against each pair of lips as your forehead lies against his. “mngh- suguruuu,” you’d moan, shivering once you felt two of his fingers smack against your leaking pussy. you were filled to the very brim, and despite how he’s still inches deep, he wanted to fill you up just a bit more.

you had him primal now, and geto’s smearing his cum all over the opening of your stuffed cunt before stuffing it back inside. “more, d- don’t stop.”

“wasn’t.. going to,” geto grumbles, letting off a soft prowl once he feels the adhesive-like stick of your pussy keeps its hold on him. you’re addicting, and you’re moaning once he suddenly lifts you from his cream-leaking shaft.

with a spurting ‘pop’ sound, he lies you flat on your back, rubbing his achingly cherry-colored tip over your dripping slit. “fuuuck,” he licks his lips, admiring the filthy sight before gathering a wad of spit in his mouth before with a wet ‘ptou’, geto spits riiight on the outer part of your creamy pussy. “nasty ‘till the end, huh,” he clicks his tongue, inching his head down.

“sugu-”

“ah- not a word from you right now, gorgeous. she’s gotta get a few words in too, hm?” and you whined, hearing the brief ‘slap!’ of his palm make direct contact against your pussy. “now spread these pretty legs for me. ‘m kinda.. hah- starved.”

NANAMI ★ KENTO.

“oh, h- hoooney,” nanami hiccups, muscly soft arms wrapping around your rickety torso. he’s holding you close, giving you a secure bear hug as your cunt’s just wetly slapping up and down against his twitching cock. you’re so close up to his chest that you feel two things—nanami’s soft, rounded belly, and the dozens of scattered blond chest hair that painted the entirety of his abdomen like a canvas.

the two of you had been at it for hours, and he was practically sticking against your body. sheets and sheets of sweat glue against both rutted bodies as each of you continued to rock rock rock in unsteady sync. he’s been milked stupidly by you, and a viscous trail of cum continued to stick against your thighs as you moved.

“mng- ‘ken,” you’d breathe thickly, hearing each clashing slap! of your pretty hips slam against his thighs each second. his mind’s empty, tied in knots — and speaking of, nanami was preparing to surprise your stuffed pussy with another big knot of his own..

“t- that’s it, don’t stooop,” and as your voice shakes, you’re arching slightly once his tip massages a loooong pattern through your insides. you’re clamping down hard - swerving your hips around in random directions continuously while gripping his ruffled, checkered tie.

“fuck, f- fuuuck,” and nanami’s starting to trail slender, callused fingers toward the edges of your ass.

you’re bouncy - twisting all round ‘n round while focusing your weight on your knees. as you kept moving—you leaned in, shyly biting into his neck. “hah- kentoooo,” you whimper, cutely dragging out his name. his tip thrashing against your g-spot’s got you sounding more dramatic than usual. sneaking four torrid, wet kisses against his slick-spit lips. “c.. can you gimme one more?”

“at this rate, ‘m gonna get you pregnant again too,” he gutturally whispers in response, a hand gently pressing onto your tummy. nanami’s just inside you sooo deep — sooo nice ‘n snug that his thumb swirls across the very center of your stomach before feeling a familiar bulge.

browned, warm eyes look into your eyes before he sighs. “feel that, honey? that’s.. me,” he grunts, talking over your sweet, repetitive wantons of whines. as nanami grabs a nice handful of your ass with his free hand, he nibbles against your earlobe. “but- if my wife wants me to.. fill her up once more, i won’t mind.”

you gasped once nanami suddenly lifted you with care — careful not to hurt you, treating you like a porcelain doll. his roughly-textured hands place you on the flat of the mattress before he’s already aligning his cream-covered tip against your slobbering cunt.

“mhh- how many are we gonna try to make t- this time, sweetheart?” he stammers lowly, smacking his angry vermillion-colored crown against your pussy. he’s met with wet squelch sounds in response from below, and nanami licks his lips before delving his way back inside your compressing entrance. “o.. one? two.. threeee?”

with a pout, your legs were already violently shaking — struggling pathetically, hopelessly trying to stay open but to no avail.

once nanami’s making love to you again. he’s pinning both of your knees up to your chest. “just.. just don’t miss, ‘ken.” you whimper, your voice cracking with each bumpy syllable that slips from your lips. he’s puncturing you deeply with each thrust as if he had some kind of purpose.

deep, deep thrusts..

nanami’s using all vigor of hips - pounding into your precious pussy, dragging out moan after moan from your raw, straining larynx. it was starting to sound a bit hoarse—and each time you swallowed, nanami’s thrusts were more precise.

“b.. baby, you’re really.. hah- gonna.. milk me,” he groans, feeling the back of his thighs starting to gradually tighten. his face buries between your chest, lolling his tongue out before getting a subtle taste of your bouncy tits. “hngh- ‘m gonna get this pretty belly so round, gonna make you a pretty wife again and an even prettier mama.” and as he continues to speak, nanami’s feeling your nails pierce into the ridden flesh of his skin.

“f- fuuuck me, kento. pleasepleaseee, gimme another baby,” you’d whimper, your voice shifting from normal to shaky as his hips start to strike into your very core. he’s fucking you stupid, and he’s also getting dumb himself all thanks to your pussy taking the fatal, wet blows.

it was just something about your warmth. your cunt - it always hugged him, gifting him with a slick hotness he could never put into actual words..

you’re clinging onto nanami tightly - showing your body just how ‘bestial’ his hips could be as he continues to drill into your sobbing pussy. it’s so wet, and he hears it all too. the sweet ‘lil cries that were sounding more like pathetic squelches of mercy, and your chants of his name forming in inaudible babbles were just the icing on the cake.

“mngh- upsie-daisy, honey,” nanami groans, gently pushing your legs over your head. now, he’s got a straight view of your face that’s just covered with glistening sweat. the more nanami’s pupils dilate at the pure sight of you — his beloved wife, he sees how you’re just effortlessly kissed by the sun’s rays that shined near the bedroom window. pangs of pleasure coarse through your veins and his, and nanami’s just about at his very limit.

once he cums for the nth time - it’s even thicker than before. his rounded belly laid flat against your chest with his blond happy trail tickling against your tummy. you’re whimpering, covering his back with scratches before he pops a velvety, hot knot deep inside of your greedy cunt.

“mhm,” you’d coo out in satisfied surprise, hearing nanami’s breath hitch against the lobe of your ear. a lot of it dribbles out of you, pouring down to your hole and staining into the sage-colored bedsheets. nanami’s hips pause, and he’s just allowing you to milk him dry, filling you gallon after gallon with cum.

“a- again,” you’d mewl airily with a pouted puckered out lip, bringing a leg to wrap around his waist. nanami’s got a timid smile, pressing a kiss to the top of your forehead. of course you wanted more.

nanami wriggles his hips ever so slightly, making sure he had all of his load stuffed inside of your dripping pussy before caressing your right cheek with his thumb lovingly.

“my, and i thought my breeding kink was bad during this time of year,” and as he’s still inside of you, you moaned, feeling nanami’s cock pop its way out between your puffy-drooled slit before sliding its way back in. those loud sloshing sounds of your slippery pussy was so carnal - and he could just listen to it all day.

you couldn’t help but gasp again, feeling nanami lift your legs behind your head before giving you a long, fervent-tasting kiss. “but fine, one - hah, more.. load for the pretty wife comin’ right up..”

SATORU ★ GOJO.

“h- hoooly.. fuckin’ shiiiit, baby,” satoru hisses, drawing in drafty breath after breath as he watches the fat of your ass slam back against his sticky, meaty thighs for the zillionth time.

constantly, you’re placing all your weight down into your knees as your hips rocked and rocked. satoru leans back, holding back sultry-sounding moans as his leaking tip sloppily swipes a wet stripe up ‘n down the opening hood of your clit.

he’s in so deep, and he’s still trying to get over his most recent release. “look at her - so fuckin’ sloppy,” satoru puckers his lips, letting off a teasing low ‘ooooh’ once he ogles down at the translucently white ring that wraps around his cock. it coats all nth-inches of his shaft as he’s still weakly thrusting his hips up against your pussy that’s thrusting riiiight back down.

he hears the rubber streeetch at each pumping thrust and it’s just so loud. with a loud ‘snap!’ it ends up breaking mid-thrust.

polished, peach-colored lips of his tremble at the electrifying friction of striking skin and he grunts throatily once his cum-covered tip swerves its way past your clit be for jackhammering a single thrust near your g-spot. “mmngh- ‘toru, fuck,” you’d whine out a gargled sob, wobbling your lurching ass back into his bare lap. as you bring a hand toward the back of your rear, you spread the left cheek apart before arching a bit more forward. “s.. satoru- might..hhaah- as well.. take it off before you cum.”

it didn’t take much for him to realize the ‘it’ you wanted to be taken off — was the broken rubber. by now, it’s probably stuffed with satoru’s cum from previous rounds, but you only imagined how much better he’d feel raw..

“heeeh- and you call me the nasty one in the relationship,” he grunts, brushing a thumb down your dripping pussy. your rhythm was as slow as ever, and his sapphire-shaded irises just couldn’t depart from your body. not for a single second. you still had your panties on too—but the grey string was pulled to the side, all thanks to satoru.

you moaned at the touch of his wiry, padded thumb gliding a straight line down your sopping-wet pussy. with a single hand, satoru snatches the clear, sticky condom off his cock - hearing the subtle ‘riiiip’ noise occur from his current action.

“f.. fuuuck,” satoru groans, raising your hips for a second then removed the broken rubber. he’s damn close - soso close, and his jaw tightens. as it’s now removed from around the entirety of his length, it leaves a bit of printing ring around the lower part of his dick, and a prominent vein shoots its way up his skin once the cool air hits it. “baby- ‘m not gonna last long if ‘m gonna.. hah- finish inside you raw, y’know.”

with a roused hum leaving from your pursed lips, you give your ass a cute spank before wriggling your dripping cunt against satoru’s flushed, ruby tip. “good. finish inside, baby,” and satoru’s breath gets caught in his throat once he sees your fingers spreading the lower dripping lips of your pussy apart. “riiiight in here, fill me up, s- satoru.”

your filthy, needy words against his ear slid from your lips so smooth like honey. he just couldn’t keep his eyes off of you — more importantly, he couldn’t keep his eyes off your pretty, jostling ass. it’s almost taunting him with the way it moves ‘n wriggles around his pelvis in an alluring circle. “ffuck, baby. know t- that’s right, ride that fuckin’ dick- ngh-” and a whine rips straight from his throat once he sees you slooowly arching inward.

his tip wetly slides its way from between your sniveling cunt as you bent forward - letting him view the dried-up stringy strands of cum that were glued against your sprawled apart thighs.

“mhmm,” you bite back a moan through clenched teeth, wrapping a hand around his veiny cock. you align yourself back on his dick, and his veins immediately malfunction from the sheer hot rawness of your slick, weeping pussy. “pussy’s all yours ‘toru,” you hummed, hearing his gasping ‘oh shiiiit’ ‘s huff out from his lips once he’s bottoming out again.

“f- fuckin’ damn right she is,” he grumbles, reclining himself back, giving your left cheek a whacking spank. you’re moaning once your jolty hips start up again, riding him in reverse with your ass hitting back against his lap repeatedly. with how impactful you slammed back into his lap, each rigid bounce of your ass was just seismic - and satoru’s just … about … there.

he’s hearing ring after ring in his ears, and it’s got his empty mind going for a whirl. your pussy was just ruthless - almost unfair at how good you milked him each time. satoru’s ethereal icy-like pupils that were fully dilated mindlessly lulled to the back of his head. “god- ‘m gonna give you another,” he moans, hearing those same smack smack smacks of your cunt messily pounce back into his lap. the way you rode him in backward oh-so flawlessly, - it was just so… risqué.

the enticingly, saturated grip your pussy had on satoru’s cock was enough to make him drool. as skin continued to rude crudely clash into each other at full speed—creating a sharp unforgettable collision, and it was not long before satoru’s bursting blanks yet again.

this time though - actually inside you.

a looooong, raspy groan scratches from his throat but it’s sounding a bit more high-pitched if anything. he’s inside you raw - finishing inside you raw, and satoru’s gripping your ass with one hand while whining your name into your neck.

“mhm-hm, good girl, oh- s.. shiiit ‘s still comin’,” he breathes deeply, seconds after dumping a fresh buttery load of cum inside. as he’s spasming underneath you—his thighs felt glued to the mattress, and his knot floods into your cum-filled pussy. “damn.. she’s.. hah- more of a slut than you are, look at it spillin’ all out.. f- fuuck, baby-”

“don’t stop now, satoru,” you’d hold in between raucous breaths, still feeling his lustrously, syrupy cum trickling inside of you.

it shoots deep deep deep - pouring into your womb in thick, slimy molasses. satoru’s staring the entire time, bright-eyed ‘n bushy-tailed practically, melting at the way your cunt swallows all ribbons of his seed as if its thirst was finally quenched. well - almost.

“mng- one more, baby,” and he grunts, feeling your ass playfully rooooll into another circling toss. your pussy slaps back down against his cum-oozing tip before you hunch over his lap once again. “ ‘toruuu, one more.”

“my girl’s never satisfied, huh,” satoru dryly laughs, squinting to get a clear good look at your pussy that’s just overflowed with ropes and ropes of velvety, hot cum. for a split second - satoru pulls out, in awe at the sight of his cum streams out your slick orifices. it’s so creamy, and he moaned, still feeling the intensity of his body as his tip silently aching to give you another fill.

your back’s still prettily arched over to a certain degree—and you crane your neck slightly to give him a frisky simper as he continues to play between your thighs. “especially h.. her too,” and satoru’s thumb swipes up a few remains of his cum that wetly sobbed down the slot of your entrance. after a while, he’s even starting to hear his jagged breathing pick up before he aligns his florid-colored tip between your slit again.

as you’re holding in choked moans by biting the inside of your cheek, satoru sits up—making you lean allll the way forward until your cheek’s pressed into the cushioned pillow.

you’re not riding him anymore - instead, he wanted to see the pretty view from behind this time.

“hah- f- fine then,” and he’s grunting, poking his tip in ‘n out of your pearly, drooling pussy before slickly easing it into place. “gotta show this pussy wha- o- ooooh fuck, ‘m cummin’ a-again.”

CHOSO ★ KAMO.

“oh! my fans love you, baby, look.” choso timidly grins, holding in a guttural groan each time your ass steeply bounces right back into his lap.

the room was dim with hardly any light except for the exception of choso’s multi-colored monitor that flashed with pretty colors of LED lights. his stream mostly included the dedicated audience of his 6.9k viewers who usually spammed his chats with thousands upon thousands of lewd, unserious comments all at once.

it was mainly comments specifically saying how you’re just so pretty, how they wish they were you, and egging you on to make choso whine just a liiiitle bit more.

“h.. hi, chat,” you’d huff out in jagged breaths. all you took was a single side glance toward his set-up, but you were sure that thanks to his special guest - he was about to reach 7k viewers within no time.

choso liked including you in his streams—it’s usually not with you riding him, but you were more than willing to entertain his viewers for a little while. he was celebrating a milestone, and the best gift he could’ve ever got was you - you and your dangerous, rocking hips that he was forever obsessed with.

every few seconds, he’d hear that re-occurring ‘ping!’ notification whenever someone donated.

your ass moved like water — so perfect.

your body - it sensually rocked against choso’s lap as your feverishly wet lips pressed against the crook of his neck. “mhm- ‘y always make me feel s.. so good,” he shivers at your lukewarm touch, taking a few blurred peers at the gleamingly-bright screen that shined back into his face.

“hey- look at me,” you’d coo, pressing clammy hands at each side of his face. tousled, inky-shaded strands slit down the corners of his forehead before he meets your gaze. instantaneously, choso softens at your touch, letting off a sweet whine once your thumb rubs against the scarred bridge of his nose.

“they’re not riding you, i am, choso,” and right at that exact moment, your cunt lets out a sobbing wet squelch that makes all jolting limbs judder in an elated frenzy. “so let’s give ‘em a show, hm?”

“y- yes, mommy.” choso locks eyes with you, his pupils dilating and he’s hearing the booming loud sounds of his heart thump-thump-thumping straight out of his bare sweat-covered chest.

“mommy?” you tease at the sudden term.

“b.. baby, i mean.” he grunts, one of his hands fishing down toward the lower part of your jerking ass.

he’s so impatient - so eager to just give you another one of his loads. choso’s stream’s probably been running for about a good two and a half hours—and with the way you were riding him, he didn’t ever want you to stop.

your hips were gonna make choso fall in love all over again. embarrassingly enough, choso’s face heats up at his sudden slip up of calling you ‘mommy’ but he couldn’t lie, the moment he called you that, he felt the tip of his dick twitch in rousing thrill.

pound, after pound, after fuckin’ pound. .

by this point — you were the one fucking choso, and he didn’t even mind at all. he’s louder than you, his gruff whines and whimpers turned more melodic at each cute cracking strain. “pleaaase- please, fuck me, fuuuck me- milk me.” he starts to ramble, gasping once you lightly push him flat back against the pillow.

his fall from your playful shove was soft - not as soft as your insides though. your pussy’s just squeezing onto him, preparing to wring him dry like a wet, soggy towel.

choso’s tongue lolls out his mouth and he’s panting rapidly like a dog - moaning once you attack sloppy, unkempt kisses onto his bitten, raw lips.

they’re a hot pink, glossed with saliva and he’s even starting to drool from the very corners all because of your slippery, hot pussy trying to suffocate his cock with your gripping warmth. “hng- good boy, ‘cho. let your fans hear you,” you whisper, bringing your trail of kisses toward the lower part of his bottom lip. then, you reach toward his chin, giving the tubby part of skin a playful nibble. “cum again for me, choso. ‘s okay.”

the piles of donations continue - loudly pinging, and his chat’s just being flooded with even more thirsty, needy fans direly wishing they were in your place or hell - maybe even being in choso’s place instead. .

“ ‘m cumming- hold me, baby, ‘m fuckinnn’-” and he gets cut off, feeling the lower half of his body erupt into such final stages of utter rapture.

he’s so hot that it feels like an active volcano, and in reality—the magma is his cum—hotly spurting inside of you, bubbling in thick, frothy bubbles before oozing right back out. you’re both moaning in sync, and choso’s face is just shading into a ripe shade of vibrant red as he’s letting out such a large load.

he’s awkwardly clinging onto your hips the entire time as he holds you close, and he takes one single peek at his chat that’s still virtually cheering him on in the background.

‘choso my goat finally getting some pussy? 2025 is off to a great start!’

‘she is sooo hot.’

‘me when me when me when.’

even though the majority of them were clowning him like always - he grumps, shifting his focus back towards you as he’s still pumping in such viscid, milky ropes.

you’re slowing down finally, rolling your hips around before coming to a halt as you’re whimpering into his neck. choso’s got a sleazy grin - and oh, he was the literal epitome of pussy drunk. he’s filled you up so much that it got to his head, and his clingy hold against your ass never left.

in fact, he squeezes it tighter - giving it a soft spank before shyly burying his face in between your tits - his comfort place. “can we.. do that again?” he pouts, hissing once he feels the mere non-existent bouncing of your hips.

already - he’s missed it, but he was still giving you a fresh nice ‘n hot creampie so it’s not like choso was one to complain.

he’s bringing his thin-pressed lips up to yours before kissing you, whining impatiently against your mouth as you contemplated a reply. “i- i want you to milk me again-” and he reaches in, shutting his laptop.

“hhaah- with no one watching this time. just us. p.. please, mommy?”

TOJI ★ FUSHIGURO.

“f- fuck, didn’t know a pretty thing like you knew how to ride s- so fuh- fuuuck,” toji stammers over his words, getting rudely cut off by the clashing slams of your whetted, brutal hips.

toji slouches further back in his rocking chair before raising his pinched front cowboy hat. its jet-black — flawlessly matching his eyes, and a piece of straw stuck from between his scarred lips. tilting his hat downward, he gets a picture-perfect view of your pretty, perked ass riding him ‘round in reverse.

toji’s full weighted base was stacked - just pumped and stuffed with so many milky, dewy wads. it’s been rounds - and you’ve already milked him to the max. but you wanted to milk him again, and again, and again..

at first, toji thought you were interested in milking the actual cows in his feedlots - but oh, you wanted to milk him instead.

“mhm- what’s.. the matter, cowboy?” you breathe, bringing your hands to hold onto his knees for leverage. you heard the clanking loud clanks of toji’s cowboy boots occasionally slam into the dusted ground. your cunt’s just feral at this point, and he’s grunting hoarsely as he sees your body ride him better than you did of any of his horses. “too much stamina for you? maybe i should.. hah- slow down.”

“quiet, ‘lil girl,” he hisses at you, swatting a black-gloved hand at the rotating globe of your ass. with just a rippling smack, your skin instantly jiggles at the contact of his palm and it makes his dick twitch inside you. speaking of, his crowned tip - it’s an angry, carmine shade of red that’s akin to a pepper. the tight-fitted mahogany-colored chaps that toji wore were loosely pulled down, his jangling buckle barely hanging on to his slim waist. “don’t slow down. better ride me good, atta girlie— fuuckk.”

despite how toji was trying his hardest to keep up his prim façade - he knew, he was no match for your sweet, sweet cunt..

“mng- now now, darlin’ . . fuck,” he brings two thick fingers up toward the dip part of his hat as ravened skinny bangs nearly shield his emerald eyesight. your hips had more horsepower than anything, and he’s clenching his jaw at the same time as you’re clenching down on his throbbing cock.

toji felt soooo full, fuller than he’s ever been—and he’s hearing those slippery, sloppy sloshes sing away from your pussy like a lewd western tune of its own.

your ass was sharp and very, very precise. just one smack against his wet lap and toji’s losing all sorts of a train of thought. “good- good fuckin’ girl, put those h…hips-” he lowly purrs, pausing for a second to swallow. “put those hips ‘ta work for me. ride me then- make me proud, heh- cowgiiiirl.”

but once toji gets a wild wild wild taste of cloying overstim - it’s fuckin’ over.

your hips were disgusting - in every best way possible. it didn’t take long at all for his smug act to tear away though, and now, you had an utterly milked-out cowboy right underneath you.

he’s been ringed dry, and he’s probably pumped out such webby masses of cum inside of your pussy. you felt so stuffed, and toji’s barely able to keep up with your stamina. your constant bouncing had him dizzy - and you watched as his hat fell from the crown of his head, falling to the pile of hay that surrounded you both near the wooden century-old chair.

“hng- fuck,” he groans huskily, clicking his tongue at the sharp swats of your clapping ass. his turgid cock’s stretched inside you through ‘n though, and with a single, stretchy thrust - he’s french kissing his way near your convulsing g-spot. he hits that same spot thrice - not once, not two - but thrice, and he sees how your mind’s already starting to go blank just from your cute dumbfounded expression. “h.. heh, what’s the matter, darlin’? no more horsepo- ngh-”

as your ass kept up its crazed pace of slamming up ‘n down on his heavy shaft, you wrapped a hand around toji’s throat. the milked-out cowboy eyes you intently, feeling your soft hand slide around the fabric of his verdant-colored bandana. “less talking, more hahh- milkin’.” you moan, giving his neck a slight squeeze. toji lets out a moan - a slutty one at that, and you spot that glint in his eye.

he’s always been one for a challenge, especially a pretty ‘lil cowgirl who dared to compete with him in riding.

in the background - it’s just the faint sounds of bellowing moos and neighs from the animals nearby in the other stalls. as toji’s wholly milked out, his meaty thighs felt like they were permanently stuck against yours like velcro.

he’s at an utter loss of words—quietly groaning as your cunt swallows up every drop, greedily demanding more and more fills. “f- fuck, y’er quite the rider,” he breathes, burying the soles of his boots into the ground. “ugh- ‘m gonna c.. cum again, doll- shit.”

with your hips purposely stuttering over his lap, toji's head sexily tilts back to a certain degree. you gawk as his black lashes flutter - and he’s feeling each vigorous slam of your ass pound back into his naturally sculptured pelvis. toji’s groaning, running his gloved fingers up your waist, trying oh-so-hard to control the movement of your hips but failing miserably.

“inside again,” you moaned, rubbing your thumb near the lump that grew inside of his throat. toji’s mushroomy-flushed tip was just redly swollen, throbbing sporadically, and on the verge of being emptied once again, and if he wasn’t pussy-drunk then - he definitely was now.

“mngh- better h- hold on, m’lady,” toji grunts, gripping your ass firmly. he hears the latex of his gloves squeaaak against your jarring flesh, and he’s letting off continuous hoarse ‘phew’ ‘s as your sloppy cunt prepares to milk him again.

you’re rolling your waist ‘round in a whirring circle like it’s going for a spin, making sure to focus your weight in the centers of your knees. while the skin continues to pierce against skin in such a loud manner - your pussy’s just sobbing from each sloppy thrust.

toji heard it too - and his dicks’s almost sympathetic, gifting it a few syrupy ‘love taps’ with its tip as it concludes its final sloppy hits.

once toji cums - he cums hard.

he’s shooting yet another thick batch inside of you raw, feeling your quavery thighs clamp shut as he’s filling you to the utmost brim. it’s parchingly hot, and toji’s seed gradually travels its way deep into your womb. “hhah- atta girl, thereeee w- we go,” he groans, still having his fingers dug into the soft globes of your ass. you’re panting just as much as he was, and your mouth suddenly grows dry once toji’s cum starts to dribble out in cottony, satiny clumps.

for once - he’s speechless, and toji’s barely able to keep his eyes open. perhaps this time, he’s really milked out because his cock inside of you felt like it was floating. his tip’s still leaking from all reddened sides but in very small amounts, and he’s holding onto your waist with the piece of straw still sticking out from between his scarred lips. “ngh- maybe i was wrong about ‘cha, doll. you- you can ride damn good, that’s for sur-”

“i didn’t say stop, cowboy,” you bite the end of the wheat with your teeth, picking up his cowboy hat and placing it on top of your head. “c’mon, one more.. hah- riding session for the road, huh?”

with a sly, crooked smile, toji scoffs, beads of sweat streaming down all corners of his face. the overgrown bangs of hair that stuck against his forehead were all muggy from the various rounds that occurred - giving him a bit of a greasy look as his skin ricocheted against the sun’s bright rays.

“h.. heh,” and he gives your ass its final spank, the leather of his glove tickling against your flesh before he tilts his cowboy hat that remained tilted on your head. “yes ma’am.”

13K notes · View notes

holeforzenin · 27 days ago

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Gross dbf Toji <3

“Oh relax, Toji’s been my old buddy since high school. You can trust him—he’ll take good care of her while we’re away”.

Meanwhile, that trusted old buddy had his entire face buried between your trembling thighs, his tongue flickering deep inside your creampied hole with his lips latched around your puffy entrance, making disgusting noises as he slurped at the thick, bitter load he had just pumped into you not even a minute ago—greedy for every drop of the mixed-up filth leaking out of your hole.

His teeth grazed your sensitive folds now and then, making you jolt with every swipe of his greedy tongue.

It was too much—too overstimulating and filthy, and your head was spinning. Your poor pussy was already sore and twitching, clenching pathetically around his thick tongue, but Toji wasn’t stopping. No, the older man insisted that he has to “clean you up”, and “take care of you properly”, just like your father expected him to when he called him to babysit you. How could he leave his old buddy's precious daughter filthy and messy like this? Especially for something he did—That would just be very irresponsible on his end.

You couldn’t even close your legs, his larger hands forcing them open, thumbs digging bruises into your shaking thighs to keep you wide open for him. His nose was smashing against your puffy clit, nuzzling it on purpose, inhaling through it loudly like he needed to breathe in your pussy to live.

“Ahh—fuck, n-no Toji, that's enough!” you sobbed, tears spilling over your flushed cheeks as you weakly pushed at his head, but it was like fighting against a wall—your strength was quite literally laughable against him. Your hands slapped and pushed at his hair, his forehead, anything you could reach but he didn’t budge an inch. Instead, he groaned against your cunt, the vibrations making your walls clamp down around nothing, drooling out more cum for him to slurp up.

He wasn’t cleaning you, he was feeding off of you. His tongue was ruthless, scraping and curling inside you, scooping up every mixture of cum you were drooling out and swallowing it down without shame.

Your clit throbbed painfully from the constant friction of his nose grinding and rubbing against it, his breaths coming out hot and heavy through his nostrils like he was fucking inhaling your pussy.

Sometimes you heard him snort—an awful, humiliating noise just to make you squirm more. It’s the filthiest thing you’ve ever experienced.

You squealed when you felt his tongue slide lower—dragging a nasty, wet stripe down over the messy cum pooling around your twitching asshole, lapping it up like some kind of depraved beast before plunging back into your leaking cunt, switching between both holes like he couldn't get enough of the filth dripping out of you.

His spit and your mixed cum were pooling under your ass now, soaking the couch and your thighs with every wet slurp and disgusting suckle.

You were soaked, filthy, and overstimulated beyond belief—and he was still fucking going.

“P—Please stop!” you hiccupped through your tears, clutching desperately at his thick, raven stands but all it did was make him groan deep against your slit, making it even worse.

Your legs are twitching in his iron grip. But the more you cried, the more he moaned against you like a perv, like your pathetic little sobs were turning him on even more.

When he finally pulled away, a thick string of drool and cum still connected his chin to your battered cunt, stringing between you like a strand of glue before snapping wetly onto your folds.

His face was a complete mess; nose, lips, and chin all glistening under the light, slicked up and dripping with your juices and his own. His scarred lips curled into a lazy smirk as he tilted his head, his emerald eyes dark and heavy-lidded as he stared up at your trembling body.

Toji wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing the filth across his face even more, before spitting lazily onto your clit just to make you twitch again.

He looked up at you through half-lidded eyes, cocky and mean, tongue dragging along his lips, savoring every taste he could gather, even going as far as licking along his scar with a low, satisfied grunt.

“Sorry baby”, he rasped, his voice laced with mocking sympathy. “Got’a bit carried away”.

“You’re so filthy”, he chuckled low, rubbing two fingers through your swollen folds, smearing the cum and spit around lazily like he was playing with it. “Bet my buddy would shit himself if he saw what a messy little cumdump his sweet daughter turned into”.

“Should’ve known you’d taste this fucking sweet,” he muttered, mostly to himself before leaning back down again—like he wasn’t even close to done with you yet. “Let Daddy take care of you some more, yeah?”.

And you were too fucked-out and humiliated to stop him.

7K notes · View notes

kthologue · 2 months ago

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operation: get over your childhood crush! — gojo satoru

synopsis. in an attempt to move on from your childhood best friend—who definitely doesn’t see you the way you want—you hatch a series of plans to help you get over him. it doesn't go as planned.

contents. hurt/comfort, fluff, nerd!gojo, college au, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, unreliable narrator, miscommunication, insecurity, dorky references bc u make him go dumb and digimon inaccuracies probably

notes. i did not proofread this monster!! enjoy :P

The hum of the air conditioning fills the room as night settles in, the light from Satoru’s bedside lamp casting a soft glow over his mess of a room. You’re both sprawled out across his bed, limbs entangled like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Because, for the two of you, it is.

Satoru’s Nintendo Switch is balanced on his stomach, hands lazily tapping away as his little Digimon charges into battle on screen. You’re curled into his side, one leg hooked around his and a blanket thrown haphazardly across you both. The half-abandoned textbooks sit at the edge of the mattress, tragically ignored. Another study session: failed. Not that Satoru needed it. He passed everything with flying colors. It was more of an excuse for you to come over.

“Your room still smells like that cheap vanilla air freshener,” you mumble, nose scrunching.

“That’s because you bought it,” he replies without looking up, thumb expertly guiding his character through an attack.

“Because your room would end up stinking with sweat and whatever freaky stuff you do in here.”

“Hey!” He whines. “I shower everyday and you know it. The stink is all you. Have you ever sniffed yourself, princess?”

You swat at his stomach, and he lets out a dramatic grunt. “Rude. I brought that candle to add ambiance.”

“Ah yes,” he deadpans, “nothing like artificial sugar scent.’”

You snort, settling your head back down on his shoulder, the fabric of his hoodie soft beneath your cheek. There’s a long pause before you say, “You know, if we fail our exams, I’m blaming your Digimon addiction.”

He grins. “I’m raising digital warriors, thank you very much. And I’ve never failed an exam, don’t wound me now!”

“They look like mutant toddlers with attitude problems.”

He gasps, clutching his heart. “They’re champions, you monster.”

You laugh, letting the sound dissolve into something quieter as your fingers absentmindedly trace a pattern into the blanket. His hand rests near yours. Not holding it. Not not holding it.

His glasses are tilted again. Of course.

You reach up and straighten them with a sigh. “Honestly, you’d be lost without me.”

“Not true.” He says it reflexively, then pauses. His voice softens. “Okay, maybe. I’d probably just let them slide down until I walked into a wall.”

You smile faintly. “And there’d be no one there to patch you up.”

“Tragic,” he agrees. “Would bleed out on the floor, probably.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“You’re so bossy,” he counters, shooting you a sideways look.

“Admit it,” he says, voice full of faux-smugness, “you’d miss me if I died tragically and left you all alone.”

You hesitate for a second too long before mumbling, “Don’t joke about that.”

It’s quiet. The game music loops in the background as his Digimon wins the battle with a triumphant fanfare.

He doesn’t say anything.

You suddenly feel too warm under the blanket. The joke had been harmless, stupid even.

But something inside you twists, the same something that’s been unraveling lately every time he mentions another girl.

Another type. That’s not you.

“You know,” you say slowly, eyes peeling from the screen to his phone, which lights up with a notification, revealing one of his favorite gravure model’s latest issues as its wallpaper. “You could probably date any girl you wanted. Why do you partake in freak stuff like this? It’s anti-girl repellent.”

He makes a noncommittal sound. “Doubt it.”

“I don’t. You’ve got that whole genius-who-doesn’t-realize-he’s-hot thing going on.”

He glances at you, skeptical. “Is that a thing?”

“It is. Annoying, but effective. Girls love it.”

He hums, clearly amused, cheeks slightly flushed. “Well, good to know I have options.”

You try to laugh, but it catches in your throat.

You shouldn’t ask. You really shouldn’t.

But you’re lying in his bed. Wrapped up in him like you belong here. And some part of you aches to know the answer.

So you pretend it’s a joke. You tilt your head against his shoulder, voice airy, teasing. “Hey, be honest—do you think I’m cute?”

He goes still.

His hand tightens slightly on the Switch. You think you’ve pushed too far, so you try to backpedal before he can respond.

“Not like… like that,” you say quickly. “I just meant, like, in general. Compared to those girls you’re into. Say, Waka Inoue. You know, long legs, shiny hair, cute face?”

His jaw tightens.

You’re still trying to play it off. “I mean, I’m not fishing for compliments. I just—was wondering.”

He finally turns to look at you.

His gaze lingers. And for the first time all night, he’s not smiling.

You feel your breath stutter in your throat underneath his gaze.

Then he shrugs.

“…Nah.”

It slices through the air with quiet finality.

Your heart drops. You don’t let it show. Not fully. But it must flicker in your face, because he quickly looks away.

You laugh. It sounds forced.

“Yeah, that’s fair. I mean, I wasn’t expecting a yes or anything.”

He’s silent.

You shift away from him slightly, giving him space. “I should head home soon. We didn’t really get any studying done, anyway.”

“It’s late. Why don’t you stay the night?”

Usually, you’d accept his offer with a smile, but you really wanted to go home and wallow in your own self pity.

“It’s fine, I have something to do anyway,” the lie slips out of your mouth easily as you begin to pack your things.

And you miss the way he watches you—guilt in his eyes, frustration on his tongue.

You knew it was time. Twenty years of hopeless, fruitless pining had done enough damage to your heart.

It had started the day your parents moved next door. Satoru had been the loud, obnoxious, too-pretty-for-his-own-good boy on the playground who shoved candy in your hand and asked if you wanted to be friends.

You’d been doomed since day one.

And to make things worse, you’d both gotten into Japan’s most competitive university—together. Same neighborhood. Same school. Same train route. You weren’t just stuck with him. You were haunted.

But you were young and hot. And allegedly in your prime. You couldn’t keep orbiting around a guy who still thought microwave gyoza was a food group and used your shampoo because it “smelled like you, so why not?”

You were sipping coffee with your two closest friends, and today’s topic was—unfortunately—your love life.

“Honestly, I can’t believe you’ve been stuck on Gojo for this long,” Utahime said, disgusted, as she stirred her latte like it personally offended her. “You could do so much better.”

“It was kind of cute in high school,” Shoko added “but now it’s just sad.”

You sighed, blowing on your drink. “I know, okay? It’s not like I haven’t tried. But he’s literally the only guy I’ve ever been close to. I don’t even talk to guys besides him.”

“That’s because he’s been gatekeeping you since the two of you met,” Utahime said flatly. “I swear, every time someone so much as glanced at you, he pulled that overprotective act.”

You wrinkled your nose. ��That doesn’t sound like ’Toru…”

Shoko and Utahime exchanged a look. One of those knowing glances.

Utahime cleared her throat. “It doesn’t matter! What matters is you are hot. You’ve got the face, the body, the grades, the personality. You just need the confidence.”

You peeked up at her, unsure. “You really think so?”

Utahime leaned forward, smirking like she’d just won a war. “I know so. And that’s why I’ve come up with a plan.”

You narrowed your eyes. “A plan?”

She slammed her hands down on the table, eyes alight. “Operation: Get Over Gojo Satoru.”

You blinked. “That’s… a long title.”

Shoko blew a slow stream of smoke. “It’s either this or pine until you die and haunt him as a love-sick ghost.”

You stared into your cup, sighing. “Fine. I’m in. What’s step one?”

Utahime grinned.

“Whatcha doing?”

Gojo’s voice drifts lazily over your shoulder, followed by the soft rustle of his hoodie as he leans in. He’s far too close, obnoxiously so, his breath tickling your ear and his chin was nearly resting on your shoulder.

You don’t even glance up. “Studying.”

The two of you are supposed to be studying— finals loom overhead like a guillotine, but as usual, very little academic progress has been made. Mostly because your study partner is a six-foot-something genius who insists on sitting sideways in the booth, long legs tangled in yours under the table like it’s second nature.

He hums, skeptical. “Liar.”

You hum noncommittally, thumbing through the dating app Utahime suggested with vague disinterest. The guys blur together: not tall enough, too cocky, too bland, too not Satoru. One makes a joke suspiciously close to a Gojo classic, and you immediately hit unmatch with a scowl.

“Wait,” Satoru says slowly. “Are you on a dating app?!” He practically yells the last part. Half the cafe turns to glare at the source of the disruption.

You hiss under your breath, mortified, swatting at him. “Keep your voice down, idiot!”

His eyes widen dramatically, hands thrown up like you’ve stabbed him. “I leave you alone for two minutes and you’re already planning a life with someone named ‘Keita, aspiring poet and spiritual healer’? I’m wounded.”

“You weren’t supposed to read that far.”

“I’m a speed-reader,” he says with a smug grin. “It’s part of the whole ‘genius’ thing.”

Before you can argue, he snatches your phone with a level of ease that tells you this isn’t the first time he’s done something like this. He grins like he’s won a prize.

“Satoru!”

“Relax, I’m not texting anyone,” he says, fingers flying across the screen. “Just optimizing.”

Your heart drops. “What are you typing?”

“Nothing~”

You make a grab for your phone, but he effortlessly leans back, holding it above his head with those ridiculously long limbs. You glare at him from across the table, arm outstretched like a furious cat trying to swat at the moon.

“Give it back!”

“Patience.”

“Gojo Satoru—”

“Okay, okay!” he relents with a dramatic sigh, finally placing your phone face-down on the table like he’s done you a huge favor.

You snatch it up immediately, eyes scanning for damage. No weird messages. No unsolicited likes. No new matches.

“…What did you do?”

“I didn’t message anyone,” he assures, too innocent to be trusted. “I’m not that cruel.”

You narrow your eyes, suspicious.

“But,” he adds with a grin, “I didn’t know you were dating.”

“I’m not,” you mutter, clicking your phone off. “Just considering it. Trying. It’s not going well.”

“Good.”

The word comes out too fast. Too sharp. And his face doesn’t match the light tone he’s trying to play off.

You raise an eyebrow. “Good?”

He shifts, leaning back in his seat, suddenly very interested in stirring the foam in his overpriced coffee. “I mean, it’s good you’re not settling. You should be picky. Guys are the worst.”

You snort. “You are a guy.”

“Exactly. I know what we’re like.”

You smile despite yourself, rolling your eyes. “I’m sure you think you’re the exception.”

“I know I am,” he says, winking. Then he sobers slightly, eyes flickering to yours. “I’m just… looking out for you.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest ache. You wish it was more than just him being protective in that big-brotherly, annoyingly loyal kind of way.

You take a sip of your coffee to cool your nerves. It doesn’t help. The words come out before you can stop them.

“You know with the way things are going… maybe you should just date me at this point.”

Silence.

It’s a joke. Supposed to be. But the second it leaves your lips, it tastes real.

Gojo freezes.

You panic. “I didn’t mean—like, I was just joking—”

But he turns toward you, eyes unreadable behind the fringe of snowy white hair. “Maybe I should.”

You blink.

And then, with infuriating ease, he grins.

“Anyway,” he says quickly, swiping your phone from the table again before you can stop him, “Yuto here looks like the type to ghost you after three dates and a karaoke duet. You can do better.”

You gape at him, completely thrown off, your heart slamming in your chest.

You don’t even notice what he’s done until later—until you get home and open your app to find that your bio has been changed.

Taken. Mentally married to a nerd since birth.

You want to scream.

Operation: Get Over Gojo Satoru?

Yeah. Not going great.

Not at all.

You weren’t sure why you agreed to it.

Maybe it was the look in Utahime’s eyes, so determined and hopeful. Maybe it was Shoko promising she would help you find true love. Maybe it was the quiet part of you that wanted to see yourself through someone else’s eyes. Someone who wasn’t Gojo Satoru.

“Today,” Utahime had declared, curling the last strand of your hair like she was threading a spell, “is the first day of your Gojo-less future”

You laughed nervously, tugging at the hem of your skirt. It wasn’t your usual style—not the dewy makeup you weren’t used to seeing in the mirror, not the new haircut that made your eyes look almost too bright, not the blouse that left your shoulders bare in a way that made you feel strangely noticed.

But when you caught your reflection, your heart fluttered. You looked beautiful.

When you stepped onto campus, the sun was out, the wind teasing your hair. You spotted him immediately—Gojo, slouched against the wall outside your lecture hall, nose buried in his Switch as he muttered something under his breath about evolving stats and attack modifiers.

He didn’t notice you at first.

Then he looked up.

His game froze mid-battle. His mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again, like someone had unplugged his brain.

“Wha—” he said eloquently. “Wh—what did you do.”

You blinked. “Hi to you too.”

He stared, unabashed. His glasses were slightly crooked, his ears glowing scarlet. He looked like someone had just told him Digimon was real and living in your shoes.

He blinked. “You look like… like you skipped two evolution stages overnight. Straight to Mega. Like if Angewomon fused with… I don’t know, some kind of rare, limited-release goddess-type Digimon that only spawns on a lunar eclipse.”

You blinked.

Utahime’s voice in your head: You’re hot. Unstoppable. He’s going to be speechless.

And Gojo was. But not in the way you wanted.

You tried to laugh. “So I look like a cartoon?”

“A beautiful cartoon,” he said, serious now. “Like the kind of boss character they only show for two frames because animating her costs too much.”

Your heart stuttered. It was the sort of compliment only Gojo could give: clumsy and dorky, yet brilliant in its own way.

But the moment passed.

He rubbed the back of his neck and looked away, sunglasses slipping slightly as he muttered, “You just… you look different. That’s all.”

Different.

Not better. Not prettier.

Just different.

You swallowed. “Yeah, well. Thought I’d try something new.”

“I didn’t say it was bad,” he added quickly, but the words felt unsure. Flimsy.

“I should… use the restroom,” you mumbled, turning before he could say anything else.

In the bathroom, you stared at your reflection. Your lipstick looked too bold now. Your lashes too heavy. Despite the change, you were still painfully you— the you Gojo teased during study sessions, the one he let borrow his hoodie when it rained, the one who sat next to him during endless all-nighters. And maybe that was the problem. You weren’t like those girls on the magazines.

What you didn’t see, what you couldn’t see, was Gojo still standing outside the lecture hall, staring after you, Switch forgotten, game over screen blinking on the screen.

He didn’t even notice.

“You good, Satoru?” Shoko asked, walking by.

He blinked. “I think I just saw my best friend… and my final boss… and my future wife… all at once.”

Shoko snorted. “You’re a dork.”

Gojo just sighed, shoulders slumping as he muttered, “I’m so doomed.”

It’s a mild Friday evening when you meet him—Kazuya, the guy from your psychology class. He’s polite, articulate, and kind of cute. The kind of guy who asks if you prefer cats or dogs before ordering his drink, and actually listens when you answer.

Utahime and Shoko had insisted you say yes. “A change of pace,” they called it. “You need a baseline. Not every guy is going to be Gojo Satoru.”

Exactly. That was the point.

You’re sipping a matcha latte and nodding along as Kazuya explains his thesis on cognitive development when a very familiar voice cuts through the air.

“Well, well, well. Fancy seeing you here.”

Your stomach drops. You look up, and sure enough—

Satoru.

In all his tall, obnoxiously eye-catching glory, wearing a white t-shirt that was inside out and a grin like he just won the lottery. He's holding a bottle of ramune and standing directly next to your table, like he’s been there the whole time.

You blink. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugs. “Thirsty. Wanted a drink.”

“At this café? On this side of campus?”

“Yeah,” he says, tone innocent. “Weird coincidence, huh?”

Kazuya offers a polite smile. “You’re her friend, right? Gojo?”

“Oh, best friend. Lifelong. Practically her shadow.” He plops into the empty seat beside you without asking, casually tossing his ramune onto the table. “What’s your name again? Kaname?”

“…Kazuya.”

“Right, right. I always mix those up. You look like a Kaname, though. Or maybe a Yusuke.”

You stare at him, incredulous. “Satoru—”

But he’s already leaning over, squinting at the book tucked under Kazuya’s arm. “Ooh, Piaget. Bold move. Love that for you.”

Kazuya blinks. “Do you… like developmental theory?”

“I like being correct,” Gojo says with a cheeky smile. “Also, [Name] hates Piaget. She called him ‘the Freud of toddlers’ last semester.”

Kazuya turns to you in mild surprise. “Really?”

“I—I mean, yeah,” you mumble. “Sort of.”

Gojo beams. “Told you.”

Kazuya makes a valiant effort to steer the conversation back to safe, neutral ground.

“So, you mentioned you're interested in behaviorism, right?” he says, offering a gentle smile. “I thought Dr. Takeda's lecture on conditioned responses was kind of fascinating—”

“Oh, riveting,” Satoru cuts in, lounging back in his chair like he owns the café. “Nothing like bonding over Pavlov’s dogs to spark romance. Did she tell you she cried during Inside Out because the depiction of core memories was ‘psychologically resonant’? Real charmer, this one.”

You shoot Satoru a look. “I was twelve!”

Kazuya blinks, trying not to smile. “I actually thought that was pretty moving, too.”

“Wow,” Satoru deadpans. “A match made in neuroscience.”

Kazuya laughs politely and continues, undeterred. “So, uh, any research plans after graduation?”

You open your mouth to answer, but Satoru beats you to it again.

“She used to want to be a vet. Cried when she had to dissect a frog in middle school. Tragic day.”

“Is that true?” Kazuya turns to you, amused now.

“Technically, yes,” you mutter into your drink.

By the time your cup is empty, you realize you’ve laughed more at Satoru’s interjections than you have at anything Kazuya’s said. Not because Kazuya wasn’t interesting—he was. He was calm, thoughtful, well-read, and clearly trying. But next to Satoru, whose entire presence seemed impossible to ignore, Kazuya didn’t stand a chance.

Still, to his credit, Kazuya maintains a steady, if slightly strained, expression as he sets down his cup and finally says, carefully,

“So… is Gojo your boyfriend?”

The question hangs awkwardly.

You and Satoru answer at the same time.

“No,” you say quickly.

“Yes,” he says with a smile.

You both turn to stare at each other.

“I mean—no,” he corrects, waving his hands. “Just a joke. Hah. Obviously.”

Kazuya blinks. “Right.”

You can’t meet either of their eyes. Your drink is finished, your palms are damp, and the café is suddenly too warm, too small. You push back your chair and stand.

“I should go. Early lab meeting tomorrow.” It’s the weakest excuse, but neither of them calls you on it.

Kazuya stands too, polite as ever. “Thanks for meeting up. You seem like a really cool person.” He hesitates, then adds, gently, “I just think maybe you’ve already got someone.”

You freeze. You open your mouth, then close it again. There’s nothing to say.

Outside, the cold air kisses your cheeks like a reminder. It stings a little, or maybe that’s just the confusion burning in your chest.

Satoru’s already waiting for you. Of course he is. He’s leaning against the lamppost, silver hair catching in the wind. But his eyes are downcast, trained on the sidewalk.

He doesn’t say anything right away. Neither do you.

You exhale, watching your breath curl white in the air. “You didn’t have to crash it, y’know.”

“I didn’t crash,” he replies without looking at you. “I was invited.”

“By who?”

“Fate. Karma. The gods of poor decision-making.” He shrugs.

You roll your eyes, but it tugs a laugh from you anyway. Stupid, annoying, charming Gojo.

“So,” he says after a beat, nudging your arm gently with his elbow, “how’d it go?”

You glance at him. He still won’t meet your gaze. His lips are pursed like he’s holding back a hundred words and none of them are funny.

“He was nice,” you admit. Despite being rudely interrupted by the white haired idiot beside you.

“Nice is boring,” he mutters, kicking at a loose stone on the pavement.

You laugh, soft and tired. “You’re the worst.”

He finally looks at you then, lips quirking into that smug, too-knowing smile. “But you like me anyway.”

You look away, cheeks burning, heart thudding like a traitor in your chest.

You don’t answer.

You don’t have to.

Despite Operation: Get Over Gojo Satoru failing in every imaginable way, things were starting to feel bearable.

Almost good, even.

Satoru still hovered a little too close, always with that same half-smile like he knew something you didn’t. And maybe, just maybe— his constant sabotage, the teasing, the jealousy, the way he looked at you like he was about to say something important but never did. Maybe it all meant something.

You let yourself believe it, just a little.

And that was your first mistake.

It happens quietly, without fanfare or warning. Just a throwaway line between sips of lukewarm coffee and the soft shuffle of paper. You’re both at your usual spot in the library, surrounded by open notebooks and highlighted packets, pretending to study more than you actually are.

You’re halfway through underlining a term in your psychology notes when Satoru leans back in his chair, stretches like a cat, and says far too casually:

“So, guess who asked me out?”

You hum absentmindedly. “Who?”

“Ayane.”

The name hits you like a slap.

You freeze, highlighter paused mid-sentence. “…Ayane? From the biochem track?”

“Yeah,” he says, practically glowing. “You know her, right? She's in your study group sometimes.”

You do know her. Of course you do. Everyone knows her.

She’s beautiful, with this effortless, clean kind of elegance—long legs, perfect posture, and that quiet, poised confidence that makes professors adore her and guys fall over themselves. The kind of girl who posts one blurry bookshelf photo and still racks up a thousand likes. The kind of girl Gojo always jokes about marrying.

But he’s not joking now. He’s beaming.

“She asked me out to dinner this Friday. She’s so smart, too. I didn’t even have to pretend to know what quantum entanglement was. It’s wild.” He laughs, brushing a hand through his hair. “I thought she’d never go for a guy like me, y’know?”

You force a laugh. “A guy like you?”

“Yeah. I dunno. Too much, I guess? But she said I was ‘refreshing.’” He grins.

Your stomach sinks.

This is what you thought you wanted—for him to move on, so you could finally do the same. For Operation: Get Over Gojo Satoru to succeed, for real this time.

But now that it’s happening, it feels like someone’s slowly pulling your ribs apart.

“Oh,” you manage, smiling like you’ve practiced it. “That’s great. I’m happy for you.”

He doesn’t notice the way your voice cracks on happy. He just keeps talking, rambling about restaurant reservations and how she likes contemporary poetry and used to live in France. You nod in all the right places, but your thoughts are already slipping away.

Because it isn’t just that he’s going out with someone else.

It’s that he chose her.

Her with her flawless skin and quiet charm and the kind of beauty that doesn’t need to try. Her, with everything you’re not. And more than that, it’s that he made you believe you could have meant more to him, when really, he’d been searching for someone else all along.

You excuse yourself early, mumbling something about laundry.

He doesn’t follow.

You don’t cry until you’re halfway home, the cold air biting at your cheeks as your vision blurs.

For the first time in years, you don’t text him goodnight.

You don’t wait for a meme. Or a dumb joke. Or his usual, “Hey, genius. Sleep.”

You go silent.

And when he texts the next day, you don’t reply.

You skip your library meet-up. You don’t sit next to him in class. You even duck into the stairwell when you see his ridiculous white hair from across campus.

It’s not because you’re mad. It’s because you’re heartbroken.

And you can’t keep pretending it doesn’t matter—that he doesn’t matter.

You weren’t just losing your best friend.

You were losing the love of your life.

And he didn’t even notice.

It takes him three days to notice you’re gone.

Well—no. That’s a lie.

He notices immediately. The moment your usual seat in the library stays empty. When your laugh doesn’t echo in the café line. When your name doesn’t pop up on his screen at 2AM with some stupid meme captioned, “this reminded me of you, idiot.”

But he tells himself you’re busy.

Midterms, right? Stress. Coffee. You get like this sometimes, and he gets it. He really does.

So he waits. Tells himself not to be clingy.

But then Friday comes.

And he's sitting across from Ayane in some expensive, quiet restaurant where the napkins are folded like origami cranes and the water tastes filtered. She’s telling him about her research internship in Osaka, about enzymes and international grants, and all he can think is—

You’d be making fun of me right now.

You’d be kicking him under the table. Whispering some dumb pun about digimon. You’d be pulling faces every time he tried to pronounce the items on the menu. You’d be you.

Ayane is lovely.

But she doesn’t laugh when he says something stupid. She just smiles politely.

She doesn’t ask about why his glasses are always crooked (it’s so you could fix them). Doesn’t tease him for double-knotting his laces like a paranoid grandma. Doesn’t call him “Sato” like it’s some private joke only the two of you get.

He walks her home. Thanks her for a nice evening.

Then he goes to the convenience store. Alone.

And he sees your favorite snack on the shelf and buys two out of habit.

He stares at his phone the entire train ride back.

No new messages.

Just the last one you sent days ago:

“Laundry. Rain check?”

And nothing since.

He waits. Another day. Then two.

You don’t show up to class again.

You don’t like his latest meme.

You don’t comment on the Digimon pun he texted you out of desperation.

You are silent.

And Satoru Gojo—brilliant, blind-sighted, the golden boy of theoretical physics, always five steps ahead realizes, too late, that he’s been a fool.

That he didn’t just lose a study partner.

He lost the one person who knew him better than he knew himself.

The one person he couldn’t replace with rare Digimon pulls, half-solved physics equations, or overly sweet desserts.

And for the first time since he was a kid—

He’s afraid.

It’s been a little over a week.

A little over a week since Gojo Satoru has heard your voice. Since you shoved your coffee at him without asking, muttering “too sweet for me” when you really meant “I got this for you.” Since you poked fun at his stupid sock choices, or knocked your foot against his under the table like it was nothing.

And Satoru is suffering.

He's tried everything. Showed up to your house with excuses too weak to be called plans (“Hey, I brought your favorite snacks. I just... figured maybe you forgot you liked them?”). Waited outside your lecture hall until a security guard asked if he was lost. Took detours between classes hoping to catch a glimpse of your ponytail, your laugh, anything.

But you were always one step ahead.

You stopped answering his texts. Blocked him on that stupid dating app (which—ouch, even though you hadn’t used it seriously). You didn’t even show up to the library anymore. And even Shoko started looking at him with thinly veiled pity and a you really fumbled the bag look in her eyes.

Gojo Satoru is just tired.

Miserable.

So when he finally finds you—not because he’s chasing you down this time, but because he’s walking the long way home, and there you are, sitting on the old swings at the park where you first met—it knocks the wind out of him.

You don’t look surprised to see him. Just tired too.

“I figured you’d find me eventually,” you say quietly.

He swallows. His hands curl at his sides like he’s preparing for a fight.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he says, like it isn’t obvious. “Why?”

You look away. “You’re smart. Figure it out.”

Gojo looks down at his feet.

“I didn’t know you felt that way.”

Silence stretches between you, heavy and stinging. The playground is empty except for the wind dragging a soda can down the sidewalk and the faint creak of the swing chain.

Then he exhales, ragged and unsure. “Look, I can’t—I can’t take this anymore.”

You glance up.

“I can’t either.”

Hope flares too fast, too naive in his chest. His shoulders drop like he’s been holding up the world. “That’s good,” he breathes, stepping forward. “Because the silent treatment— God, I thought I was going to—”

“I don’t think we can be friends anymore.”

The words stop him cold.

“What?” he breathes.

You laugh, but it’s hollow. Like something already broken. “Don’t you get it? I can’t be friends with you and pretend that nothing’s changed. That I’m okay just being your best friend. I’ve been in love with you for years, Satoru.”

His heart stutters. You don’t stop.

“And I love myself too much to keep hurting for someone who doesn’t even look at me that way.” Your voice cracks, but you push through. “Do you know how humiliating it feels? To love someone so much it aches, and still feel like you’ll never be enough?”

He opens his mouth. Closes it.

You wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your jacket, swallowing the lump in your throat. “You never even thought I was cute.”

He looks like he’s been hit.

“I’ve been chasing scraps. Leftovers. Mixed signals and stupid inside jokes. I—I can’t do it anymore.”

You finally meet his eyes, and that’s when he sees it: the hurt you’ve been hiding behind every smile, every brush-off, every joke you cracked to keep the silence from swallowing you.

And for once, Gojo Satoru can’t find a single thing to say.

Not yet.

Not until he stops you from walking away.

“Where did you get an idea like that?” His cerulean eyes search yours desperately. “I-I don’t think you’re just cute, are you kidding?” he blurts, eyes wild.

“Y-you’re breathtaking! Everything I’ve dreamt of and more! That night when you asked me if I thought you were cute, I only said no because it would be a divine crime to reduce to such. All of my fantasies have been centered around you since we first met on that playground—since you tripped over your shoelaces trying to race me to the monkey bars!”

Your breath catches.

He continues, desperate now, like every second of silence might kill him.

“I love you! And not like a brother. Like—I want to marry you. Like, small wedding in Okinawa, barefoot on the beach, you wearing that soft blue dress you like. I already planned it. Our firstborn would be a daughter, with your eyes, my hair. She’d be the boss of the house.”

You gape.

“Wait—”

“I’m not done!” he says, hands thrown up. “Then we’d have twins. Boys. Chaos gremlins. One would look like my twin and the other yours, and they’d absolutely terrorize us—but their sister keeps them in check, she’s fierce like you.”

You blink. A tear slides down your cheek.

“I want to move to Kyoto,” he says, softer now. “Buy a house with a dumb little garden. Grow tomatoes we’ll never eat. Live out the rest of our lives where it’s quiet.”

You cover your mouth, stunned. “You… really thought all that out?”

“It’s easy,” he breathes, “when all I can think about is you.”

He steps closer. The wind tugs his white hair into his eyes, but he doesn’t blink.

“I go to study nonlinear quantum field theory and all I see is your face. I try to cool off and play Digimon, and even that’s ruined—my lineup is garbage now! I only keep the ones you said were cute!”

A laugh bubbles out of you, fragile and watery.

“You idiot,” you murmur.

“I am,” he nods solemnly. “I’m the world’s biggest idiot. And I’m in love with you.”

Another tear slips down. He wipes it away before you can.

“Is it too late?” he asks, voice cracking slightly. “Please tell me it’s not too late.”

You stare at him, this man, this brilliant, ridiculous boy who had held your heart long before you ever admitted it.

“It’s not too late,” you whisper.

He doesn’t speak. Just steps closer. Gently and carefully, like he's handling something sacred, he cups your cheek in his hand.

Your nose bumps his. His breath ghosts over your lips.

“I’ve been waiting to do this for years,” he whispers.

And then, finally, he kisses you.

It’s not perfect, your cheeks are still wet, his nose bumps yours again, and his hand trembles just a little, but it’s warm and sweet and soft. It tastes like home..

When he pulls away, his smile is sheepish. “So… are we still doing the whole ‘Operation: Get Over Gojo’ thing, or?”

You laugh, heart full, forehead pressed to his.

“Mission failed,” you whisper.

He grins. “Good.”

And then he kisses you again.

art by leimiruu on x!

#kt.writes.·:*¨༺#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojou x reader #gojou x you #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #jjk x reader #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #jjk angst #gojo angst #gojo hurt/comfort #jjk hurt/comfort #nerdjo #jjk x you

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blkkizzat · 28 days ago

Text

Mess Up Your White Tee, I'll Eat You Dirty~ ♡

Otaku!Gojo x Bimbo!Reader~ ♡

𝐜𝐰: otaku!gojo—nuff said ♡ minor references to this thirst. 𝐰𝐜: 2670 𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐮!𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐦.𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬: @buttercupblu143 for goated inspo & @yung-notorious for beta.

Otaku!gojo who has you tooted up, ass-naked on all fours—your knees planted at on the bed, titties squished into the mattress. Your feet dangling off the edge as your toes curl just like your spine—deeply in a mean arch.

Never failing to make you the star of his own hentai fantasies, of course Gojo loves to have you spread wide for him.

Both your asshole and pussy exposed, gaping on full display so your freakass otaku boyfriend can devour your pussy from the back like she's a refreshing bowl of kakigori on a hot summer day.

Although it's not like Gojo can enjoy the view when he's practically drowning himself in your cunny. His face obscenely drenched and dripping with your juices as he slurs deliriously into your gooey hole.

"Bunnn, s'gud—shiiii... s-she's mochi sweet~!"

Gojo's favorite lil' mochi ball, of course, being your clit. So cute and swollen, he makes sure to pay special attention to her as he takes his time savoring the texture of your sensitive flesh.

In between the suction of his sloppy puckered lips, Gojo's tongue peaks out to lap gently at her before swirling the tip across every nerve on your lewd bud. The tortuously euphoric sensations leaving you seeing stars as you've lost track on how many times you've cum thus far.

The results of Gojo's messy eating gush through your folds, ass and thighs as your slick and his spit reflects a glossy sheen that glows in the dim room when the first rays of early morning light pour in.

That's right—it's already morning.

Shiiit.

You'd lost count of how long he'd been at it when he said he needed a 'midnight snack'. Yet this is completely your own fault Bunny for telling Toru he could 'eat whatever he wanted, as long as he didn't get crumbs in the bed again.'

You didn't think the first thing he'd reach for would be you!

Nevermind that you felt like crumbling yourself—limbs frail like goo, you can't even run now. Utterly at this otaku freak's mercy and he didn't look like he was slowing down anytime soon.

"P-Please...s't-toru—hiccup—stawp, enough..."

But his perverted nonsensical coos for you to stay still make him sound like a weak and wounded animal—like the lil' freak actually thought he'd die if he didn't bury his face deeper into your quivering cunt.

The sound grips at your heartstrings and would almost have you feeling sympathetic for him if it wasn't for the contrast of Gojo's own swiney hands gripping onto your hips with unearthly strength, keeping you in place—making you feel more like the prey.

Truthfully you weren't going anywhere and no matter how pathetically helpless Gojo appeared, he'd always muster the most devout dedication to worshipping your body.

All you can do is brace yourself right now, biting down harder on the sheets. As a testament to that wet spot beneath you is bigger than your own face at this point. Evidence of how badly you've drooled and damn near chewed a hole through the custom 100% egyptian cotton digimon themed linen.

But it's times like these you were thankful your eyes spent more time in the back of your head then starring the cute cuddly Gatomon and Gammamon characters smiling back at you on the sheets—they were too innocent to be subjected to Toru's depravity, they—

—wait! The hell!? For that matter how come you even remember their names!? Urgh.

"O-One more... jusss' one more! P-Plwease, Bunny! My ecchi angel... blwess me with your holy pussy water jussst once more my pervy prwincess, I-I need it!"

Gojo's words have you both recoiling a mix of cringe and overstimulation as you feel him pull back briefly to spit a wad of fluids onto your plump sloppy pussy only to just as quickly slurp the suds back up again.

The wet, gurgling sounds of his lecherous gluttony echo in surround sound throughout the bedroom.

Yet despite all the shame and cringe the most overwhelming feeling is the disbelief that your body hadn't gone completely numb already—somehow you feel another orgasm building, relentless and inevitable.

God, something had to be equally as wrong with you for enjoying Toru's ecchi ways this much, not to mention, remembering the names of actual digimon on the sheets—Gojo's otaku influences would literally be the end of you...

Furthermore, you even don't know how Gojo's still going at this point!

Although you were making a big enough mess all yourself, you knew the sheets below your hips were not only stained with your creamy fluids but his own thick cum. A small puddle had formed on the completely saturated sheets as you couldn't keep track of how many times the lil' freak has cum—moaning obscenities into your pussy as he nuzzles your asshole down to your clit with his entire face.

All the while dick throbbing against the bed completely untouched each time.

He should have been tapped out from dehydration by now.

You had to do something to stop this seemingly never ending cycle—get him to fuck you somehow or something so your pussy could finally drain his completely balls dry and you could get some well earned sleep!

Like clockwork, upon another warm ejaculation spurts out to splash against your knees. The intensity of Gojo's throaty cries soften against your skin and you can feel gojo's insane grip on your cheeks loosening slightly.

Now is your chance before he recovers—you absolutely have to use this moment to turn things to your advantage!

Willing your body to cooperate, your arms are trembling as you push yourself upright. Torso rising while your legs slip further off the bed, towards the floor—seeking just enough leverage to turn around. You’re so focused, gathering the energy just to move a bit, you don’t even notice the sole of your foot brushing—ever so lightly and completely unintentional—right up against Gojo’s cock.

Immediately the raw sound that leaves him is sharp and guttural, a croaked moan straight from the depths of his chest as his eyes shoot open wide. Already hypersensitive and twitchy from release—not to mention delirious with lust from eating your coochie damn near off the bone all night—your foot is the last thing Gojo expects to feel in the moment.

Gojo’s sudden cry startles you, making you freeze mid-motion. The jolt steals your momentum, and before you can recover, your arms buckle beneath you—sending you crashing back down face-first into the sticky, aftermath of your own undoing.

But it's too late now... and before you know it Gojo grabs your ankles, repositioning you back into your arch as he pulls your feet up and together, slotting his thick, throbbing length between them.

Shit the feeling is almost painful.

Gojo forces his cock, still red and throbbing from just previously ejaculating to rub against the soft soles of your feet—fuck they are just too warm and welcoming to resist fucking into!

Any attempts to jerk away are even more futile than before in this position.

In fact, you're actually spurring him on.

You don't realize it, but the way your toes are squirming has them unintentionally fondling gojo's big breeder sack, already engorged as his more turned on than ever—full with his next creamy load ready to blow.

Gojo himself is in utter bliss.

He truly loves every inch of you—even if you are usually too ticklish and embarrassed to let him worship your feet for very long.

But this—your angelic, goddess-like hentai footies wrapped around his dick?

Amazing.

Phenomenal.

Revolutionary even!

In his mind Gojo deems it the best fucking sheath for his hard and leaky cock...well, third best other than your pretty mouth and perfect pussy of course!

Gojo thrust begin slow at first, the head of his cock sliding between your arches, his previous spilled release smearing across your skin like a filthy markings a dog would of his own territory.

God, why hadn't plotted to use your divine lil' feetsies as a onahole before!?

Well, Gojo suppose he has.

He's definitely rubbed his dick feverishly against the dakimakura image of you, which highlighted how cute and pretty your feet were, whenever you're away.

Gojo had made a custom printed pillow—one of many versions—decorated with the image his favorite shot from that absurdly over-the-top yet iconic photoshoot he somehow convinced you to do—ya know, the one where you actually let him dress you in his homemade Digimon TCG lingerie.

Those ultra rare and some one-of-a-kind cards sewn together with obsessive care with paper paste and dental floss adorned your kneeling body in the photo.

Heels tucked right beside your ass, feet bare and exposed as the only parts of your body were covered were clad in a scandalous collage of holographic Megas. One of your arms folded defensively under the shiny balconette-like-card-bra—the other behind you as your back arched just right looking over your shoulder at him with wide, uncertain eyes. The cards formed lingerie so epically scandalous it could both summon a digital monster and a nosebleed—and it surely had that effect for Gojo.

The very peak of 'ecchi cosplay couture', Gojo had nutted many times over the perfect image from the perfect memory of you looking both mortified and turned on—dressed like the final boss of his wet dreams and immortalized on a dakimakura he had made MANY prints of for when he inevitably dirtied one beyond repair.

But now? This?

Gojo doesn't think the dakimakura does the seductively silken feeling of your actual feet on his cock any justice—he's hooked like an addict now.

“F-Fuhhhck, B-Bunny bae, your feet feel s-s'gud, angel.”

Even with his cock melting between your footies, Gojo can't keep his face outta your cunt for long.

Only allowing you what seems like mere moments of reprieve before his tongue dives back right in. Licking, fucking and sucking it into your gummy hole like he’s trying to juice every last drop of pleasure from your peachy pussy. Your ass jiggles from your ankles jerking your legs back with every thrust of his hard cock pumping between your feets.

And despite your utter repulsion at the way your feet being so vulgarly violated—you're moaning, shamelessly writhing even at all the foreign sensations.

You're absolutely mortified—you think you are... at least you would be if the absolute perverted frenzy Gojo worked himself into wasn't affecting you as well. The once ticklish tingles that would have your recoiling are now amplifying the electricity you feel in your core and despite yourself you're sinking back into Gojo's face—much to his excitement.

No matter how hard you try not to be as turned on as you are, Gojo's pure otaku fueled depravity is too contagious.

You lose yourself and your senses melt in the sound of skin slicking and squelching as his long length slides along your skin.

So wet—so obscene—mingling with the slurps of his tongue still gorging on your cunt, working her overtime. You clench around his tongue, obediently giving him more and more of the creamy essence his flicks beckon forth.

In turn, Gojo's hips piston even faster now—his hot girth sliding through the tight tunnel of your feet he uses his palms to press even deeper around. The intense friction making him babble more delusional praises into your cunt.

"Ah-Ah-Ahhhh shiiiiiit my sweet perverted hentai queen's feet is g-gonna make me blow s'f-fucking hard—ya foot pussy gonna be a gud nasty girl for me n'take it all Bunny?!?!"

Gojo growls, his voice distorts into your pussy once more, the erotic hums building uncontrollable pressure in your belly as your final orgasm coils tight like a spring.

Likewise Gojo's length is thrashing wildly between your feet, the tip oozing precum with every thrust, as his balls slap roughly into your curled toes—he’s so close.

"C-Cumm, cum, cum, cum—ah, with m-me pwease pwincess, wuv you—all of you, pussy, feet, ass—HAH!"

More deranged than ever, you don't know how you can even understand his desperate muffled pleas and yet somehow your body does. Because just like that, you’re coming undone, your pussy spasming as pleasure wrecks through your body. Feet arching, constricting even more around his cock, milking him as he lets out the most pathetic whine of the night so far.

Gojo blunted nails dig around your ankles as his thrusts slow. His cum still somehow shooting out in thick, hot ropes, splattering across your soles all the way up to the back of your thighs, splashing down on the bed and floor.

Finally spent, Gojo pulls out, dragging you too him—he's trembling, you both are. Yet while he's deliriously giggling, your legs still twitch as you can still sense the phantom strokes of his tongue digging into your cunny. Your body still buzzing with the aftershocks of what seemed like non stop orgasms all night.

It's almost enough for you to want his cock up there for real now if every other muscle in your body wasn't screaming for rest, fearful he'd catch a second, no, fourth wind of the night.

Gojo mutters against your skin, his voice hoarse.

“You’re so so fucking perfect Bunny, m'so lucky to have a princess as pervy and nasty as you.”

Gojo softly peppers kisses on your neck but you ignore him as you hum in response.

Eyes shut—you're preoccupied. Your brain bargaining with your body on if and how you were going to manage to get up, at least long enough to grab the wet wipes from Gojo's desk and rip the nasty sheets off the bed.

"My Bunny-hime, don't worry about the mess, I'll buzz the maid—"

"NO!!"

Eyes flying open you immediately reject the offer. The last thing you wanted was to see any of the night shift maids who you suspect heard the symphony of lewd noises coming from the room all night—typically being close by in case they were ever needed.

You already have a hard time looking any of the staff of the Gojo residence in the manner. Even if they all seem perfectly "normalized" to the eccentric tastes of the family, what with routine maintenance of the sex dungeon and all. You don't see them bat and eye as they look completely normal, transporting baskets of sanitized sex toys or cleaning and dusting the expansive lewd museum of hentai figures.

"Mmm, n-no, Toru... I mean, its late, ah, I mean super early still! Don't bother them, just... let's just go sleep in a guest room hm? I just wanna cuddle."

You manage a small tight lipped smile in your exhaustion. You knew how much he loved sleeping in his own room, on his custom digimon sheets but you're hoping the promise of cuddling and softly caressing his undercut would be enough in his exhaustion to spare you the embarrassment.

"Kay! Whatever, you wish my ecchi angel!"

You sigh in relief as Gojo slips a t-shirt over you before he scoops you up princess time. His own arms are shaky with exhaustion but you feel comforted in the fact you know he'd sooner die then ever drop you. Also you are thrilled you didn't have to remind him anymore to at least cloth you before he tried to leave his room.

Burrowing your face in his chest you drift off as you feel his arms.

Otaku!gojo who smiles once more as he sees you drift off, placing a kiss to your forehead. His own thoughts drifting as he makes his way to one of the many Gojo estate guestrooms.

As much as he loves fucking your pussy, he wonders if you'd let him fuck other parts of your body now... like your armpit.

Oh! Oh! Maybe if he shibari tied your leg and thigh together he could fuck the crease of your thigh...

Gojo’s face lights up with excitement, eyes gleaming as he looks down, ready to ask what you’d think about that—only to find you fast asleep.

He chuckles softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. Yeah… he’d let you rest for now.

an: hopefully this lil throwaway oneshot can hold you otaku!gojo girlies off for a while 🩵🤭. i'm still working on the nursery p3 but i got a burst of inspo when i was told the gospel of forced footjobs while getting eaten out from the back. hsjdfbkjshdbfs. i think this one even out freaks the suguru footjob fic i did. btw, manga is 'oohata-san is my dream gyaru!' (there's an hentai coming soon i talk about that and link the preview here)

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