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aramha · 5 days ago

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back to the kittty, cause she's kinda pretty!

pairings ⸺ (SEPERATE) bf!sukuna x reader x toji, masseuse!nanami x reader, bully!suguru x reader, childhood best friend!choso x reader, best friend!gojo x reader

summary ⸺ jjk men as overused p0rn tropes! (part 2) inspired by this awesome post by the cool and super talented @/osamucide! pls check it out and the rest of his work :3

warnings ⸺ SMUT (mdni), sub!satoru supermacy, porn no plot, vaginal sex, doggy, fem reader, "sloppy seconds," pre-established consent for all, reader accidently eats an aphrosidiac for choso's, bullying in suguru's, oral (m and frecieving), fingering, semi-public humiliation, lowk pathetic toji, art by 3aem, nOT EDITED

a/n choso's is my favorite yet again i love a pathetic man that rails me into next tuesday <3

kinktober masterlist | general masterlist

KAMO CHOSO ⸺ MY HOT CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND ATE SOME WEIRD CHOCOLATE AND WANTS ME TO DICK HER DOWN!

Your best friend, Choso, was lounging on his couch, flipping through different movie options on Netflix while you were in the kitchen, bending and squinting through the different options. It’s a Friday night, and the both of you opted to stay in for movie night.

“Choso!” You complained, huffing while putting your hands on your hips to shout at him in the living room. “Why do you only have fuckin protein shakes and raw chicken in your fridge?”

All you get is a noncommittal shrug while he pauses on the preview for some shonen anime. “There should be some chocolate.”

Gasping in excitement, you go back to rummaging through his fridge like a raccoon and there you find it—-a pink chocolate box titled “tabs.” Smiling to yourself in excitement, you don’t hesitate before popping on of the bars in your mouth, appreciating the cherry flavor while grabbing another one. With your mouth full, you ask, “Do you want one? These are sooo good, where'd you buy them?”

“Nah, I’m good. Just come over here, you’ve been taking too long.” He sends you a glare and motions for you to sit next to him, to which you set the chocolate back in the fridge and pad your way over to him. “I think Sukuna bought these off the internet and that they were kinda bougie.”

You look at him, slightly alarmed. “Isn’t he going to kill you?”

He looks over at you—a little softly, you note—and ruffles your hair, to your dismay. “It’s okay, I’ll buy it again for him. Gonna blame your big back ass for it being gone.”

“Die.” You stick your tongue out, crossing your arms while settling into his side.

Choso noted that you were being a bit more cuddly than usual, touching him more as soon as you got onto the couch. He decides to ignore it. “Ok, we’re going with Spider-man, k?”

You nodded into his side—he could tell you were flushed by the way you had continued to grow warmer and warmer, with beads of sweat dotting your temple. He paid it no mind, choosing instead to click on the movie and watch it play.

You were heating up.

You tried to ignore it, because you hadn’t felt feverish before or done anything in particular to cause you to be sick (your coffee and ramen diet had been fixed after midterms season after Choso got on your ass about it). But about 25 minutes into the movie, you couldn’t bear it anymore, your vision blurring at the edges as you mumbled, “‘ts too hot. Gonna take off my shirt.”

Choso, who had been focused on the movie, tensed and looked at you, eyes slightly widened. “Wh—” Before he could even get a word out, you stood up—eyes slightly unfocused—arching your back while grabbing the bottom hem of your t-shirt and peeling it off, causing Choso to gulp as you uncovered the swell of your breasts in your red lace bra. You went back to borrowing yourself on his side, the softness of your boobs pressing against his arm.

Choso closed his eyes because there was nooo way he was popping a boner for his best friend. No way. As both of your eyes went back to the movie, Choso focused on reciting the Japanese National Anthem to distract himself from the soft breaths you were letting out near his ears—and the way they tickled them—as well as the rise and press of your chest against his arms as you heaved.

You, on the other hand, did not feel relieved. At all. There was a stickiness in between your thighs that made you think your period had started, but it had ended a week ago. You were probably just ovulating. Cuddling into Choso further, you put your legs on either side of his torso, burying your face into his neck and taking a deep sniff. At this point, you ignore the movie as you tried the soothe the heat that was going through you.

“What are you doing?” Choso was ram–rod straight and turned to peer down at you incredulously while reciting in his brain, until the tiny pebbles, grow into massive boulders.

You continued your whiffing—-he just smelled sooo good—and sobbed, “I don’t know, but it hurts.” At this point, the feeling between your thighs was unbearable. You started to subtly grind on the side of his torso, much to Choso’s surprise. “‘M sick, Cho, but I’ve been eating healthy! I promise!” you whined. “Except for the chocolate right now. It hurts!”

At that moment, he knew he fucked up.

These were the tabs chocolates Sukuna was buying for his girlfriend. The ones viral on social media for serving as aphrodisiacs.

“Fuck,” he groaned while you continued to rub yourself onto him, now fully moaning and sighing as you tried to chase relief. “Fuck! I fucked up.”

“Choso,” you whined loudly, prompting him to leave his state of anguish to look at you worriedly. “I feel so empty.”

Choso snapped.

Bent over, face buried in a pillow on the couch, Choso rams into your creamy, wet pussy, the squelching sounds echoing across the empty apartment. Punctuating his words with a thrust, “is-” plap! “what-” plap! “you-” plap! “wanted?”

“Yes!” you squeal, body bouncing as his rough snaps of his hips jostled you around, “You’re making me feel so good, Cho!”

“Do you know how much of a tease you’ve been?” he growled, balls hitting your ass as he pulled a hand back to spank you, red handprint imprinting itself on your cheeks. He groans at the sight of him leaving his mark on you. “Gonna take my cum, right?”

FUSHIGURO TOJI AND SUKUNA RYOMEN ⸺ I GET MY BEST FRIEND’S SLOPPY SECONDS! (a/n lol im not gonna lie this is just me ovulating and wanting to be creampied by two men)

Whenever Toji was at Sukuna’s place, it was like you, his girlfriend, pretended he wasn’t there. Because why were you always dressed in the tiniest of shorts and a tank top that could barely even hold your tits in and keep them covered? Sometimes, Toji thought it was Sukuna’s play—dangling you in front of him like a piece of meat, reminding him what he couldn’t have.

Sukuna and Toji did have a bit of a…competitive friendship—one of good nature, of course. Toji, nonchalant as he is, didn’t really care whether he lost or not in the little skirmishes they had, whether it be seeing who can lift the most at the gym or walk somewhere faster. But he’s definitely seen Sukuna eye his groin in a mental competition to see if he was bigger or not.

Safe to say, Sukuna relished in the win. In a sense, he was obsessed with the submission. Not that Toji could care. He didn’t care when he flaunted his girlfriend around, groping you in front of him just to make him feel jealous…right?

Because why was his dick hard, him all hot and bothered as he listens to your moans and the plap! plap! plap! and squelches of Sukuna’s dick drilling in you? You’re both in the room, and Toji’s in the living room, confused as to why the fuck Sukuna asked him to come over when you clearly had a dick appointment with him.

“Mmm, Sukuna you’re making me feel so good!” You whine, and Toji curses, closing his eyes and cursing whatever god was out there to make him subject to such torture. In his gray sweatpants, his bulge is undeniable as he hears Sukuna pleasure you.

Then, he hears Sukuna call out to him, jumping as the other man yells, “Yo, Toji. I know you’re out there, man. Come in!” He then laughs meanly, speeding up to silence whatever protests you were making. Toji curses once again and moves to open the door just for his eyes to widen at what he’s seeing.

There is an obscene amount of cum oozing from your hole, it looked battered and swollen from the abuse Sukuna has dealt to it. There are tears in your eyes, a pretty pout on your face as Sukuna continues to use you as your fucktoy. And Toji realizes that Sukuna is looking at him while his hips languidly gyrate into you.

“‘kuna–” you sob, embarrassed and cheeks heating up even further as you felt Toji’s eyes rove over your form, utterly decimated by Sukuna.

But you’re interrupted out of any potential protests you can make as Sukuna smacks your ass—Toji’s eyes not missing the jiggle—as he abruptly pulls out and motions Toji to come closer. “I’m gonna let him borrow you, okay baby? You see, Toji’s kind of pathetic here. Might as well give him sloppy seconds, right?”

With that, Toji is moaning as he slowly enters you, your pussy sweetly clamping on his dick as he can literally feel Sukuna’s cum every time he thrusts. The utterly debauched feeling of his still-hot come lubricating his every thrust makes his eyes roll back, lost in the feeling of your pussy as you whimper and squeal everytime he hits your g-spot.

“Yo,” and Toji’s attention is temporarily swayed to Sukuna, who’s watching the both of you with darkened eyes, manspread in a chair. “Come inside, okay? It’s my treat.”

NANAMI KENTO ⸺ DIRTY MASSEUSE GIVES HOT BABE A DEEP TISSUE MASSAGE! (WITH A HAPPY ENDING)

Working in corporate was hell.

Sitting in a chair all day slaving away at spreadsheets and emails was definitely not something your younger self imagined you doing, but alas, you were only but a slave to capitalism. Even your hip flexors could feel it—they were tight, and your upper back hurt a lot.

So, here you were, in the waiting room of this bougie massage salon that you decided to treat yourself to. After all, you’ve been a good girl with your savings, making sure not to spend loads on stress-virtual-shopping so you can blow lots of bucks into this 2 hour service. The lobby is neat and glamorous, as you wait while rubbing your back. You’re currently engrossed in watching a compilation of Moo Deng videos until a deep cough interrupts you. “Miss?”

You turn to face the rich, baritone voice that’s said your name, and then suddenly reeling back. In front of you was probably one of the most handsomest men you’ve ever seen, with blond hair and sharp cut facial lines. He’s rubbing his palms together, which seem laden with oil as he looks at you plaintively. “Shall we take it to the massage room?”

“Y–yes. We can do that,” you nervously affirmed, gathering your purse and belongings to tightly follow behind him.

When you arrive at the room, the stoic man motions for you to get changed. “Please put on a towel. We’re going to be doing a deep tissue massage, so the towel will serve as a protective measure.”

You blush at the thought of this man seeing your body covered in nothing but a towel, but follow his directions regardless, putting your belongings in a corner while you step out of the changing room and into the massage room once again. You try to preserve your modesty as best you can as you go to lie down on the table. The only things you hear from him are the clinks of bottles as he rummages through different oils, uncovering them. The smell hits you dead on, soothing your senses already with the essential oils.

And then, his rough, big hands are on your back, pressing into your shoulder blades. You jump, like a scared deer, and he lets out a deep chuckle. “My bad. I’ll be doing your back side first.”

“Okay,” you whisper in response, already closing your eyes in bliss with the way he’s roving his thumbs over the planes of your back, pressing in deep as he works out the kinks in your back.

In one particular spot in your lower back and hips—the one that’s been hurting like a bitch because of your endless time sitting in a chair—he presses his thumbs with the exact right pressure, and you moan.

You can’t help it—the chronic back pain has always been there, but he makes it disappear with a languid movement of his fingers over your back. But he pauses slightly as soon as the whimper comes out of your mouth. “Miss, are you alright?” Flushing, you are quick to affirm. “Yes, sorry.” With a lower voice, you say, “That was, um, that was just really relieving.”

He laughs melodically and continues his ministrations, going even lower, but pausing right before putting his hands on your ass. “May I pull the towel up? Direct contact will be helpful in this region for a deep tissue massage.”

“Y-yeah,” you say softly. “You can do that, you’re the professional.” He’s just doing this for massage reasons, right? With your consent, he slowly inches up your towel to uncover your bare ass to him, you clenching your thighs with the fact that he can see everything.

He then puts his hands on the fat of your ass, moving his hands in a circular motion that spreads your ass every time he moves in an outward rotation. Kento’s trying really hard to stay professional, but seeing your glistening wetness makes him groan inwardly. “Miss,” you perk up slightly as he refers to you, “I’ll continue with the deep tissue massage as requested, okay? There’s a spot that I believe really needs my attention.”

Innocently, you nod, and Kento can’t help but feel so aroused that you’re so naively believing him, letting him touch you as if it’s an appropriate part of his job. His hands inch closer and closer, and soon enough he’s fingering you while languidly licking you up.

“Does this feel good, miss?” Kento is out of breath as he nudges his nose deeper into your pussy while you’re squealing at the feeling of his fingers slamming into your g-spot, sending jolts of pleasure down your spine. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he goes in, sucking at your clit just perfectly.

“It’s rude not to answer someone,” your masseuse gives you a slap, and quickly soothes it over.

“‘M sorry!” you squeal, bucking your hips as soon as you feel like you’re getting closer, “It feels soo good.” With that, he pauses his ministration to give you a gentle kiss on your pussy, and the plush of his lips is enough to set you squirting, riding his face as you drench him in your juices. Safe to say, you were feeling very de-stressed.

GOJO SATORU ⸺ BEST FRIEND CATCHES HIM MASTURBATING, JOINS IN ON THE FUN!

Satoru groans, squeezing his ball at the base to avoid cumming prematurely. What he was originally doing was trying to find some porn to empty his balls to, releasing stress and gaining dopamine from masturbating. But eventually—like he’s been doing a lot these days—his fingers direct him to your Instagram profile. You, his best friend.

Satoru does this in secret, waiting until he’s alone in his and Suguru’s apartment to go into his room, close the door, and sin by thinking of you in a way friends don’t of each other. So, he’s trying not to bust too early while he zooms in on your tits in the cute bikini picture you posted just last week, the ones he took of you. The pixels of your magnificent breasts zoom in, sweat and water glistening off of them as your bra hugs and makes them sit just right. He groans, throwing his head back as he feels his cockhead pulse again, deciding to end his edging to cum.

In his focus on stroking his dick—the squelching and whines echoing in his room—he doesn’t notice the sound of the door opening. Nor of the footsteps heading towards his door, because he moves his hand up and down, up and down, up and down until he’s so close to cumm—-

“Satoru! I got us some mochi!” You yell loudly, and Satoru screams in return, albeit for a different reason. As your head whips up to look at him, alarmed at his shout, you register that his cock and balls are out. And that, in his left hand, is a photo of you.

You blink, and Satoru blinks back, except with a red, throbbing length in his hand. Then, slowly, you ask, “Why is my picture open, Satoru?”

Satoru swallows, already hearing funeral bells and utters out, “I—I—that was a mistake. I meant to be on Pornhub. Haha! I mean,” he continues on rambling, “why would I be looking at your picture? Obviously, my hand slipped while I was jerking off I mean—” he cuts himself off, because in his yapping, he’s failed to notice how you’ve stalked over to his bed, now straddling him while spitting on his cock.

“Fuck,” he curses, as his pupils dilate watching the thicky, frothy mix of your spit ooze down from your pursed lips onto his dick. “W–what are you—” You motion for him to stand up, orienting yourself so that your throat was hanging off the bed and you were on your back on his mattress.

“Since you’re so desperate,” you give him a deadly sweet smile as he stands, dick above your face. You give his tip a little kiss, and he shivers. “You can fuck my throat.”

Satoru definitely takes you up on that offer.

He can’t even believe that he’s here, you deepthroating his dick so nice. “Thank you, thank you,” he whines, gyrating his hips sloppily into the tight, wet heat of your mouth as your lips suckle on him. “Needed this so, so much.” You’ve even uncovered your tits, them bouncing nicely as Satoru continuously lodges himself in your throat. “Please, please let me cum.”

You gently push against his hips, indicating you want him out of your mouth. Raspily, you wipe the trail of spit that’s left your mouth and laugh meanly and give him a deceptively sweet kiss on his balls. “You have to last at least 10 more minutes, okay?”

And Satoru can do nothing but obey you, driving himself to the hinge of climax but never over, whimpering as your mouth swallows him up.

GETO SUGURU ⸺ BIG DICKED BULLY FUCKS CUTE ANIME GIRL INTO SUBMISSION!

Your safe haven is your library. There, the man who’s been torturing you for most of your college career, Suguru Geto, doesn’t know where you hide, nor does he frequent the place. You’re focused in on your assignments right now, having fallen behind due to Suguru’s antics of bothering you and disturbing your peace to humiliate you across campus. It’s late at night, and there’s not a lot of people to disturb you. You thought.

You’re wrenched out of your state of focus as someone harshly pulls your chair back, grabbing your chin to meet your eyes with his. Your bully, Suguru.

You gasp in surprise as he roves his eyes over you and what you’re wearing. A short skirt, one he dare wouldn’t admit made you look cute, and a sweater. Silently, he sits down while you tremble, looking at him with shaky eyes that makes his cock swell in his pants.

He smirks. “You thought you could hide from me?” He then ticks his head towards your textbook. “Whatcha reading? Recite it to me.”

Even though you were confused as to why he would have you do that, you hurried to do as he said. Meanwhile, his siren eyes roved over your form, choosing to settle in between your thighs.

“Schroedinger’s theory had proved classical physicists wro—-“ You’re interrupted by your own gasp, because Suguru’s laid a hand that’s gently caressing your inner thigh.

“Go on,” he purrs, getting closer and closer to the heat of your pussy.

You swallow and go on. “…had proved classical physicists wrong, showing that unexplained phenomena in spectroscopy and atoms demonstrated discrete—-“

Meanwhile, he’s inched his hand inside of your panties, softly rubbing at your clit in a manner unbecoming of the mean Suguru you know. Before you know it, your orgasm was creeping up on you, and your legs were trembling while Suguru buried his face in your neck, giving you soft kisses.

“Cmon, you slut,” he whispered, the softness of his voice contrasting with the harshness of his words, “are you too stupid to read?”

You whimper as he delves a finger into your hole, collecting the ooze there and going back to your clit. “…atoms demonstrated discrete properties, referred to as quanta—-“ It’s with a nasty lick to the shell or your ear that you’re cumming, squealing loudly as you cream on his fingers, humiliated at the show you were forced to put on in the library.

Suguru pulls his fingers out and sucks on them languidly, looking you in the eye. “Now slut, you’re going to do that seated on my dick. Got it?”

kinktober masterlist | general masterlist

a/n hiii pookies this was late sorry </3 but ANYWAYS im excited to write (and ride) cowboy geto and spiderman!gojo next! consider joining my kinktober taglist if you're interested <3 part 1 of this here btw

comment and reblog to let me know ur thots :p

TAGLIST

@sugoroo @ryutotsukai0824 @sharkubi @lisvanrouge @mxlktae

@samisfunky @achbbys000 @xd3pr3ss3dx @jottositto @cheescakebroom

@r0ckst4rjk @callmeagardengnome @rottmntrulesall @blankwashed @sindulgent666

@honeynanamin @obsessgurlll @starrnai @herefor-tojis-tits

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aramha · 6 days ago

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BABY TRAP? LIKE THE MOVIE WITH THE TWINS?

description… you two are meant to be. sealed by fate, star crossed lovers. you’ll keep each other around however you need to.

warnings… dark content! baby trapping! noncon! obviously they’re being baby trapped they say something trying to stop it. consensual sex. full penetrative sex.

a word from the writer… i’ve had this in the drafts for aWHILE. it’s about time. do yall still read dc? i’ll never stop supplying… are we too woke now?!

TRAPS YOU

you’re hot under him, and he’s making that face he always makes right before he cums. it’s like repetition; eyes blanked out, mouth ajar but not fully open, brows furrowed like he’s desperate— and it’s scary.

“baby,” the word is cut in two with how fast he’s going, tease of pain as he hilts into your cervix with every thrust. “baby, you’re not wearing a condom.” your voice is uneasy, shaky from the movement and pleasure and build up. you think, in a way, the way you have sex is unfair. he gives you so much, orgasm after orgasm, rubbing your clit as he drills you to the point you go fucking stupid.

you feel safe with him. sex is sacred with him, no matter how sick it gets. but right now, with your calves pressed into his shoulders, his hands pushing your thighs impossibly back, you feel uneasy.

“baby, baby, pull out.” he gasps, sweat dripping down right near your eyes as a shaky groan escapes him.

“fuck,” a chaste kiss to your forehead, a shakiness in his movements, an unmatched rhythm as he gets closer and closer. “fuck. oh my, god. you feel so fucking good— so fuckin’ good.”

and so does he. but you’re scared.

“you’re gonna make such a good mommy, gonna be such a good mama. gonna— gonna give you my babies. gonna get you pregnant, gonna make you mine.”

“hey, wait,” your hands raise to his chest but he hits that angle that makes your eyes roll and they fall back. it feels so good you almost don’t care. “baby, baby, baby stop. baby, you gotta pull out.”

“you’re gonna be such a good mommy. gonna give you my kids. gonna give you my kids.” and it’s instant. it’s before you can even think— if you could anyway— it’s pressed so deep in you you betray yourself and cum, too.

he places his head to yours, kisses you greedy and whole, and whines into your mouth. it’s him, it’s real, it’s love. but— and you know this— it’s something so wrong.

“did you just…?” and before you can finish your question, he’s regaining his rhythm, fucking his cum into you with a half hard dick. it’s precise, it’s calculated, it’s intention.

he looks at you, eyes wide, breath heavy, and gives you a little grin. “gonna keep fucking you even when you’re pregnant, baby. gonna make sure i can keep you all to myself.”

GOJO, GETO, SUKUNA, YUJI

GETS TRAPPED

your legs hurt. you’ve been on top for all of thirty minutes, which you have no one to blame other than yourself. you love to edge him, love to get him so close and then take it all away from him. you think it gets him a little addicted.

but right now, as he squirms under you, losing every ounce of masculinity he’s ever had, something takes over you.

“gonna cum,” it’s breathless, short and sweet. “oh shit, i’m gonna cum.” you think he must think you’re edging him again. you think he’s expecting you to slow down, stop all together, pick up off him fully for ten or so seconds and then slam back down.

but you pick up the pace, grinding your hips into his, hitting his pelvic bone with your own as your hands grip at his pecs.

“wait, are you—” he falls apart under you, voice failing him, body failing him, hands only finding the strength to grip at your hips. “baby girl, i’m gonna cum.”

it’s melodic, tactile and articulate, a steady flow of bounces while your squelch fills the room.

“sweetheart, you gotta stop.” your right hand lifts from his chest to his mouth, shoving your fingers between his lips while he groans. he’s so easy to you, for you, because of you.

and then you feel it, milk it, relish in it— the way he comes undone at your touch, loses himself deep inside you. you don’t say a word about it, don’t think about it too much as you press your wet fingers to your stomach.

it’s a quiet giggle as reality washes over him. he looks cute, you can’t help but realize, panic and flushed under you. you’re sure of it then; he’s gonna be a sexy dad.

MEGUMI, NANAMI, CHOSO, TOJI

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aramha · 7 days ago

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Nanami finally wanted his sweet innocent wife, you, to speak up. Because he liked seeing you all so flustered!! His hands were now inching closer to your panties. "Tell me" he said, his voice a slow grumble. "Where do you want me, love?" He asks you much gentler this time. "In.. In me.." you said, darting your eyes away. And the soft chuckle he let out, made you look at him. "Hmmm?" He hums, raising his eyebrows, as he follows his fingertip down your drenched panties, stopping right at your dripping hole, it's so wet that he can even see the outlines of your pussy pretty well. "Here?" You took a sharp breath as he puts faint pressure right at your core.

You nodded looking up at him. He could feel you clenching around his index finger even though it was through the practically wet cloth which caused him to smirk. "Let me see" he says as he, pulls your panties to a side, revealing your glistening pussy, your clit twitching under his gaze. God he just wanted to latch on to your needy clit like his life depended on it. "my pretty girl, look at you..." he says as he took in your form, splayed under him as he spread your pussy lips to get a closer look at your weeping cunt. "Fuck, want me that bad, yeah, sweetheart?"

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aramha · 7 days ago

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‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ masterlist

satoru gojo

big stretch spiderman!gojo webs you up mwahs your tits video games after sex making out with rival!gojo gojo sucks tits when he's bored gojo and geto overstimming your tits desperate gojo deepthroating you wearing gojo's blindfold while he plays with your folds gojo masturbates over your photos overstimulation with gojo praise & degrade gojo loooves edging you just to see you beg shower sex

what a game threesome gojo's hands good kisser gojo gojo loves you and your dick sucking skills cumplay small or large he's good gojo misses your titties and fucks you later on softdom!gojo loves worshipping gojo IS the present male lactation LOL bad time? geto x gojo x you first time sucking him aftermath

happy trail gojo gojo's dick is pretty he knows how to use it gojo's dick hcs getting off to your reactions giving your bf gojo head gojo loves missionary bf gojo overstims you A LOT while eating you out tits, ass, or thighs? this man fucks hard aftercare with gojo making out & tits gojo loves getting praised so he'll do the favor right back gojo would not complain eating you out for a long time

bratty gojo mirror sex spooning sex late christmas shopping fucking i feel like gojo's top five positions on a certain day would be this subby gojo handcuffed, laying on his back as you ride his face pegging gojo gojo with a pussy hanging by a thread he's all yours i miss gojo ☹ surprise fluff post sub!satoru thoughts another fluff post!! bathroom fun (this can go for really any character but i thought of him while writing it LOL)

actor!reader and actor!gojo has some fun in her dressing room prof!gojo and collegestudent!reader gets it going oooonnn indian!reader and gojo fluff he loves you baddd gojo + handjob heros always gets the job done - spiderman!gojo

suguru geto

gojo and geto overstimming your tits bad time? geto x gojo x you pegging geto calm mean man tongue piercing suguru 1/3 tongue piercing suguru 2/3 tongue piercing suguru 3/3

kiyotaka ijichi

dry humping & making out ijichi + handjob

hiromi higuruma

higurama loves you and your cum!

takuma ino

soft dom ino my birthday gift to my birthday girl

ryomen sukuna

fem!sukuna degradation

toji fushiguro

small titty worship toji just needs to eat out chubby!reader

choso kamo

tongue piercing choso 1/3 tongue piercing choso 2/3 tongue piercing choso 3/3 a silent mean man choso + handjob

kento nanami

polite teasing nanami (i can't write mean nanami it hurts me) nanami + handjob pregnant reader fluff

shoko ieiri

impatient girl ! utahime x you x shoko shoko loves using her strap on you

utahime iori

impatient girl ! utahime x you x shoko more!!

p links

gojo p links #1

smaus

you pretend to be mad & they offer themselves as a peace offering. you win. your text convos with gojo satoru

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aramha · 7 days ago

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pornstar!satoru who knows there are a million eyes on him, he’s seen his view counts—the whole world has seen his form. He’s cocky, loves knowing just how many people have gotten off to the sight of him.

pornstar!satoru who, despite his infamous confidence, gets nervous when you walk on set and offer him your camera-ready smile. You’re such a pretty thing, the dictionary’s definition of perfect.

pornstar!satoru who can’t help but excuse himself before the shoot, so he can was his face and sate his nerves. Locks himself away in a bathroom just to pull his phone out and google your name—and god does he like what he sees.

pornstar!satoru who is minutes away from having to be balls deep inside of you and can’t help himself from touching himself in the bathroom. scrolling endlessly on his phone, pictures of you in different positions, different little outfits, looking fucking perfect in each one.

pornstar!satoru who cums harder than he has in months, in a porn set bathroom, just to the fantasy of his hand being yours. he feels like a sex-driven teen again, hands clammy as he washes them clean from the receipt of his desperation.

pornstar!satoru who is hard again the second he steps out to find you already naked on the scene bed. your skin looks satin soft against those sheets, eyes soft and lips softer as you watch him stalk over to you. consent checks and camera placement talk goes through one ear and out the other, he can’t get his eyes off you.

pornstar!satoru who forgets he’s a pornstar the moment his hands touch that sweet body of yours. he’s completely fumbling the scene laid out, the scripted dirty talk is forgotten the second his lips open. the only reason cameras aren’t cut is because the filth that leaves his mouth instead is more pornographic than the scene at hand.

pornstar!satoru who presses you down into the mattress in a mean mating press when he’s supposed to have you face down ass up. who would he be to deny himself a long look into those pretty eyes of yours? no way is he losing this opportunity for a paycheck he doesn’t really need.

pornstar!satoru who loses his curated pornstar persona the minute he bottoms out inside of you. his usual moans and groans are replaced with desperate whines of real pleasure. this is sex, he’s a mess of need and want and sweat and god do you look good stuffed full of his cock. he can tell you’re feeling it too, that something else, that electric eroticism that gets lost when you fuck for a living.

pornstar!satoru who can’t stop wondering what you’d look like pinned down in his own bed, away from the harsh light and prying eyes of the production crew. who has such a visceral feeling of dread knowing how many people are going to see you like this, fucked out and cockdrunk by his doing. it’s possession, a need to keep you to himself, sequester you away for his eyes only.

pornstar!satoru who cums ropes way too quickly. he’s usually good at holding his orgasm at bay for long enough to make a porno, but your pussy clenched around his cock was too much, your nails in the corded muscle of his biceps, your lips against his, your body in his fucking vicinity? he can’t help it.

pornstar!satoru who, after filming, invites you back to his for a drink or three, and gets swiftly rejected when you bat your pretty lashes at him and mention your boyfriend waiting for you at home.

pt 2!

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aramha · 7 days ago

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Betting your girl's mouth on a basketball game was crazy — and Suguru was all for it.

After taking a loss that may or may not have been deliberate, jock!Suguru wears a dirty grin on his face while watching you suck his best friends virgin cock like a good girl, loving the nasty wet noises you make while slurping up and down nerd!Satoru's pulsing shaft, slowly stroking himself to the sight of you on your knees, making cock disappear in your mouth like magic.

And Satoru — the poor boy — is losing his mind because he's never felt a woman's lips around his dummy big cock before. He used to tell you that sex is beneath him — now he's throwing his head back, gritting his pearly whites, curling his toes and biting his bottom lip 'till it's all red, totally surrendering to your little mouth — it's just so funny to you, 'cause he's been the know-it-all bastard telling you "... you're just Suguru's slut. If you paid as much attention in class as you did to my best friend's dick, maybe you'd amount to something. Do you even remember what we learned yesterday? Exactly. But I do — that's why I'm the top student and you're just — "

Bla bla bla... Satoru's now showing you how much precum his dummy big cock leaks — it's a sticky mess oozing out of his tip all over your quivering tongue. You looked up at him and winked, and he seethed inside because god he's hated you for so long but now your lips are wrapped around his cock and your mouth is taking him to heaven.

He's whining, biting into his fist, knees all wobbly. the texture of your tongue drives him nuts — then it clicks. oh, this is why my best friend is obsessed with his girlfriend. This is why he can't shut up and stop oversharing his sex life with me.

'Cause heaven really does exist on her tongue.

"fuck, slow down..." Satoru tries to ease his cock out your mouth, feeling his orgasm threatening to erupt at any moment.

But Suguru pushes you back down on his cock, filling your cheeks again, "nah, keep going baby, he's gonna cum — aren't you Satoru? You're gonna cum in my girl's mouth, huh? Come on, big boy, I know how long you've wanted this. Fill this little slut's mouth with your cum."

Those taunting words push him over the edge. His heavy balls tighten up as he feels you suckling his swollen head, and then white ropes come bursting out.

"Ahh—gh! Fuck... nn!"

Satoru's legs give out and he moans like you've never heard a man moan before, releasing all the cum he's worked up for you like he's been waiting years to do this. Actually, he has been waiting years — waiting patiently to find an opportunity to make your jaw ache and eyes well up with tears.

"Baby, you gonna swallow my best friend's cum f'me?" Suguru encourages, stroking his cock lazily against your cheek now.

He watches you compliantly swallow Satoru's seed, and Satoru twitches at the sight.

Huffing, Satoru comes down from his high and brushes his white wispy bangs out of his eyes. He's glaring down at your mouth.

"... still fucking hate you... " Satoru mutters to you in a voice still shaky with the after-effects of his orgasm.

"I still hate you, too." you smile back at him.

His heart flutters and bottom lip twitches. He can't stop staring at your lips, your eyes, your hips, your thighs.

"Ah, Satoru, quit your act — you're the one who proposed this idea in the first place."

You went red in the face. It was Satoru's idea? The mister goody-two-shoes, know-it-all, all A+++ report cards, 'sex is beneath me' Satoru?

"Huh? I thought this was your idea..." but before you can express your surprise you're already feeling Suguru nudge his cockhead against your lips.

"Sh sh, now it's my turn, baby. Open wide."

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aramha · 7 days ago

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geto sending a snap at the gym while you and gojo are "busy".

cw: shitty writing, and may be spelling mistakes, but I'm currently at my granddad's so.

Geto was almost done with his workout, and honestly, he was missing you both like crazy, so why not check up on the two of you?

He decided to go on the gc the three of you made and sent a picture of him lifting up a weight in front of a mirror and put the caption 'almost done' with it.

Little did he know what you and Gojo are doing in the meantime.

His head was currently buried between your thighs, tongue switching between rolling around your clit and fucking his tongue in and out of you. Your fingers tightly gripping onto his hair, guiding him to all your sweet spots. Not that he doesn't already knows them.

Gojo doesn't stop his movements when his phone notifications go off. The ding causing his eyes tear away from your pussy to his phone, which is lying face down onto his bed.

One of his hands moving away from your thighs to pick up his phone. Eyes lighting up once he notices it was Geto. His mouth peels off your pussy with a string of spit following it, "Sugu' texted..."

You whine, the knot in your stomach untightening. The white-haired man below you mutters out a lazy apology and makes up for it by sticking two fingers into your pussy. The sudden pleasure causing your hips to buck. "Look what he sent!"

Your eyes open up and stare at the picture with wide eyes. A shirtless Geto basically shoved in your face, not that you were complaining. Eyes tracing over the picture in awe before your head throws back. If you thought you are wet before, then you're definitely wet now.

Gojo chuckles, "Hot, right? We should send him back a thank you for the treat."

Ding!!

Geto looks at his phone, smirking once he noticed Gojo sent an image back. He clicks on the photo and his eyes practically bulge out of his head, choking on the water that he was drinking, which causes stares by other strangers in the gym he was at.

Not the he cares. He just got a photo of his boyfriend eating out his girlfriend.

He was expecting a stupid, flirty reply from the two of you, not a picture of Satoru's tongue pressed against your pussy. A smirk evident on his face while yours was drenched tears with the caption 'she's almost done too 😽'

Stupid, Satoru. Now he's driving home with a ridiculous boner.

inspired by this art -> here idk...

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aramha · 23 days ago

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Cw: cum eating lol

Goddess!Reader as a forgotten deity— a small temple hidden in a cave, completely overgrown with vines and moss. The marble of the flooring is cracked and split with the dripping water and the roots of the overgrowth. There is a statue of you— life sized, not grand or impressive. The skylight of the cave bathes it in sun and moonlight as the days go by.

Warrior!König who finds your little shrine and is enchanted. He has always felt like an outsider— that he has never belonged, and never looked at with familiarity. Maybe it’s his loneliness getting to him, but he feels warmth in the gaze of the statue. You’re a beautiful figure. Despite the state of the place, he feels at home. He doesn’t have much— but he clears some vines and dust off of the offering altar and leaves a fig and a handful of oats.

In his next battle, he finds some uncanny things happening around him. He’ll be dueling an enemy, when a stray beam of light will move in just the right way to blind him for a moment, allowing König to land the killing blow. He’s about to be struck from behind with his assailant’s sword catches in the scabbard for just a moment— long enough for König to turn and fend him off. Could this be his offering at work?

He comes back. This time with an orange, and a gold piece. He gives himself a few moments to admire your form— your breasts perfect, your smile gentle and content. He uses his sword to clear a bit more debris— enough to leave you more clearly visible.

He continues to excel. Not through any supernatural strength, but due to these small strokes of luck finding him at the perfect moment. His sword striking at just the right angle to land in the chip of his enemy’s weapon, cracking it in the fault and rendering it useless. One of his arrows manages to pierce through one target and into another.

He becomes your single worshipper— and the most devoted. He brings fruits, coin, fresh cloth, milk…. And his visits become longer. He lets his hands linger when he touches the cool marble of your statue. He’s taken in a moment of weakness— infatuated with the one figure that seems to care for him— and he touches himself to your image, spilling his seed across your altar— against the red grapes he’d brought for you.

König falls asleep looking at your form. There is no plaque nor writing in your temple— he doesn’t even know your name. When he wakes, the pedestal holding your statue is empty, but he feels a warmth curled into his side, looking down to see you finishing the last of a stem of grapes.

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aramha · 23 days ago

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Girl I am gnawing at the bars of my enclosure at the idea of playing with Remmick using vampire weaknesses. Letting wild garlic grow all around your house, knowing he’ll be fighting his way through it every night anyway, just to sit on your porch and beg on his knees to be let in. Sitting just inside your front door, legs slightly parted, while he’s crawling and drooling on your front porch, begging you to let him inside. Wearing silver rings while you have sex, so every time you touch him you burn him just a little. Letting him sleep in your bed and keeping the curtains closed in your bedroom, but throwing them open in every other room in the house. Playing with yourself on the couch, soaking in the late afternoon sunlight, while he’s whimpering and crying in the darkness of the bedroom, losing his mind. You know he loves to choke you, so you wear a silver necklace to keep his hands off your throat, knowing it’ll drive him insane. Something about the power dynamics of it all just scratches my brain the right way.

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aramha · 23 days ago

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YESS LAWDDDD GOOD GODDD

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aramha · 24 days ago

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‎ ★ ❛ HOT DEMON B!TCHES NEAR U ! ! ! ❜

synopsis. getting two sex-addicted hot demon bitches as your roommates wasn't exactly part of the contract, but they might just be the second best part of it. oh. and the best part? they are utterly, uncontrollably obsessed with you. wc. 5.3k

tags. top master! reader, bottom succubi! gojo & geto. reader has a cock. hardcore dom/sub. mean dom! reader, masochistic! gojo. threesome, womb tattoos, breeding kink, creampie(s), rimming, face-sitting, rough anal sex, multiple orgasms, riding, blowjob, male squirting, spanking, dacryphilia, somnophilia (slight dub-con), slut-shaming, degradation, praise kink, voyeurism, jealousy, felching, yandere! gojo undertones, aphrodisiacs, both of them are whiny, needy and hungry for your cock.

a/n. this might just be the filthiest thing i've ever written. do enjoy <3

In hindsight, you really, really should have known that your two roommates were promiscuous, sex-obsessed freaks before moving in with them. No, scratch that. You should have long known that they weren’t even entirely. . . human.

Not that they were exactly being subtle with it. Once, you had walked in on Satoru naked in the middle of ‘certain peculiar activities’ with his door half-open, wings, tail and dark pink womb tattoo on full display, stretching across the expanse of his lower abdomen in obscene heart-shaped swirls. You were taken aback at first, sure, but you weren’t mean with it, even offering to keep his identity a secret—and he had taken your politeness for something more.

Now, he didn’t even bother to hide it anymore. In point of fact, he flaunted it.

Satoru would curl his tail around your thigh playfully whenever he would walk past you in the house, stretching his horned fuchsia wings while shooting you a sultry over-the-shoulder glance whenever you were behind him, even purposefully wearing shirts a size too small around you so that the fabric would ride above his waist whenever he had to ‘stretch’ or reach for something—perfectly showing off his pretty womb tattoo.

It drove you insane with desire. And if that wasn’t bad enough for you, Satoru’s best friend, who also happened to be a succubus and your other roommate—Suguru, decided that the white-haired succubus accidentally outing himself was his cue to start courting you.

You didn’t even know that succubi courted. You supposed there was always a first for everything.

Suguru was far from being openly vulgar like Satoru was, but just as indicative of his wants. And that happened to be you. With long black hair, dark wings and a sharp, swift tail of the same colour, he was eerily gorgeous. He took his sweet time courting you, laying blooming red peonies all over your bed that worked as aphrodisiacs, spending his weekends making you wine-flavoured chocolates in the shape of hearts, hoping to get you drunk and all to himself. You would also constantly find missing pieces of clothing from the underwear section of your wardrobe, the distinctive mouth-watering scent of an aroused succubus left behind in their stead.

Satoru and Suguru were beautiful in a way that most things were—poisonous and addictive. You had told yourself that you wouldn’t get swayed by their honeyed façade and fall into their trap. You had told yourself, but. . .

The last thing you expected to wake up to was a wet, searing mouth on your hard cock.

You groaned, shuddering as mind-numbing pleasure wracked through your body in overwhelming waves, reaching out blindly to hold onto something before it consumed you—fingers digging into the sheets so hard you heard it rip. You couldn’t explain why or how it felt so good, the pleasure almost other-worldly—the sensation of an incredibly soft tongue licking up your length, dragging a trail of heat and drool on sensitive skin. The air smelt sweet, like roses and cherries, the sharp sting of arousal zipping up your spine as you took a deep whiff.

“D-does it feel good, master?” a voice panted, whined, “am I doing good for you?”

You looked down to find two teary, dilated blue eyes staring up at you, and two you knew very well. “Satoru,” you managed, fighting down a shiver as his hot breaths smothered your shaft with unbearable warmth. Everything felt fuzzy and smelt too sweet, like someone had sprayed intoxicating perfume in your bedroom a thousand times over. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He gripped your cock tighter with a pout, like he was worried that you would take away his favourite toy. “I just… I just thought I could make you f-feel better. Some de-stressing after a hard day, y’know?” He sighed, rubbing his cheek against your spit-soaked length, raised tail quivering behind him, shyly curling forward to show off the heart-shaped end of it.

You couldn’t help but look. Satoru was dressed in a satin white shrug shirt that fully exposed his plump chest while allowing his wings to stretch out prettily, and you followed the tempting curves of his toned torso down to where his womb tattoo was pulsing and glowing red, as though showing off that he was eager to be bred. He was wearing the sluttiest, tiniest pair of lingerie underwear that barely covered his ass, the cute bulge of his cock visible from the front, his weeping cockhead poking out, strapped to his stomach. His outfit gave you the perfect glimpse of his soft milky thighs, before the rest was obscured by cream lace stockings that hugged his legs perfectly, leaving you wanting more.

Sweet Lord. If this wasn’t heaven, you couldn’t even begin to imagine what heaven would be like.

The succubus trembled under your scrutinizing, squeezing his thighs together as though he wanted to hide the evidence of his arousal. “A-are you done looking?” he mumbled, glancing at you through his lashes. “Can I continue? Please, I’ve been so good and you know it.” You could’ve sworn you saw his pupils dilate even more when his gaze returned to your erect cock, a line of drool running down his chin as his throat bobbed, as though he were imagining what it would feel like to swallow your cum.

“Hold on,” you breathed, carding your hand through his soft hair to gently stop him from getting closer to your crotch. “Does Suguru know about this?”

Satoru’s eyes flickered up to meet yours, his pout fading into something more. . . wary. “No,” he said, quietly. “He doesn’t.”

“I’d thought so. Suguru wouldn’t—”

“Stop talking about Suguru,” he whined, like he was actually hurt over this. “Suguru’s not about to suck your cock.”

You frowned. And what gave him the right to sneak into your room and do blasphemous things to your body while you were sleeping, then? You tightened your grip on his hair, just enough to make him let out a low, pitiful whimper. “And you’re going to be the one to do it, then, Satoru?”

His eyes widened like a guilty child.

“I’m impressed,” you scorned, “You actually think you deserve it.”

Satoru bit his lip, as though he was turned on by your sudden change in behaviour. “I… Master, please. I-I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. I’ve been asking for it for ages, I just couldn’t wait anymore—I needed you so bad. Please let me make it up to you. Please, please,” he stammered, hands grasping your knees and thighs in almost desperation while looking up at you with a forlorn expression.

You looked at him, steering your expression into something like a leer.

“You want to make it up to me? Is that so?” You pretended to think, scratching your nails lightly against his scalp, and he moaned softly, leaning into your touch. “Fine. Get on the bed.”

The succubus clambered onto the bed clumsily, settling on all fours as he looked at you over his shoulder with a deep flush, tail quivering with arousal. “L-like this?”

“Yeah, that’s perfect,” you muttered, hands coming to rest on each of his asscheeks, kneading the flesh softly. Satoru whined, back pressing into an arch as he pushed his rump towards you, eager to please. “So, tell me, Satoru. I’m curious. What makes. . . a good slut?”

“S-someone who listens to orders,” he replied, obediently.

“That’s correct.” You whistled, hooking two fingers over the waistband of his underwear, slowly sliding it down to his knees until you completely exposed his leaking cock and hole, the latter clenching and dripping with… slick, like a pussy would. You went back to playing with his ass, ignoring it for the time being. “And does a good slut ever talk back to their master?”

“No,” he whimpered.

“What about,” you began, stroking his sensitive inner thighs, “taking what they want without permission?”

“No,” he repeated, biting back a whine as a slow sense of dread filled him. “That’s what… that’s what n-naughty sluts do.” The words sounded strangely obscene in his mouth, and he flushed, ears turning red.

“Very good,” you praised. “Last question, Satoru. You’ve answered every question perfectly so far—this one will be easy.” You flashed him a vicious smile, taking great pleasure in his ordeal. “Do you think naughty sluts deserve to be punished?”

The succubus shivered in both fear and anticipation, swallowing harshly. “Y-yes,” he whispered. “They do.”

Satoru didn’t even have time to beg for mercy because your hand fell hard on his ass, the force of it sending a loud smack echoing across the room, making him jerk forward with a pleasured cry.

The pain was electric, and so was the pleasure, a white-hot burn curling in his lower stomach as his cock gave a violent lurch—Satoru doesn’t think he has ever felt pleasure this good before in all his years of being a sex demon. You were a hard hitter too. The skin on his ass stung pleasantly, and he moaned out loud at the thought of you slapping his ass again and again until your handprint was burnt into his flesh, wanting more already.

“You really are a slut,” you whispered, almost in awe.

“Please,” he whined. He would take anything you were going to give him—praise or punishment. He was yours.

You gently massaged the bruised area on his ass, leaning down to give it a tender kiss. “Turn around for me, baby.” You opted for a softer tone, trying to coax him into letting you see his face after the harsh treatment. You couldn’t believe you ever thought that he was the danger here. Things were turning out in the most perfect way, you would believe it was a dream if not for how solid Satoru felt under your touch.

Satoru parted his lips, as though he wanted to argue—but quickly remembered your words. The pain was good, incredibly good, but it was also fleeting. If this was his first and last chance with you, then he would make the pleasure last.

He flipped over on his back, removing his underwear and quietly spreading his shaky legs for you. His cock gave a weak twitch as your gaze swept across his body with interest, letting a low whine.

“Good boy, Satoru,” you muttered, eyes zeroing in on the heart-shaped swirls of his pulsing womb tattoo. Admittedly, you had looked it up on the internet and found out all sorts of things about succubi, terms that ranged from ‘breeding’ and ‘fertility’ to ‘cum-addiction’, and you couldn’t wait to experiment them on him. “Gonna open you up now.”

You rubbed your fingers against his soft and wet entrance, slathering them in his slick, before starting to push two in, just to be mean. The succubus was already panting, mindlessly arching his back and pushing against your fingers. “Hah… Master… please, more…”

“More what? Tell me what you want, Satoru.”

Satoru let out a lewd cry as you rubbed at his sensitive walls, hips jerking. “P-Please!” he squeaked. “Want your cum… inside my womb.”

You could feel a sadistic smile pulling at your lips. So this was his true objective. To be bred like a cockslut—no, an animal. An animal bound by divine instruction to reproduce again and again and again, brainlessly offering up its holes to be filled with semen until its belly swells with the early stages of pregnancy. Perhaps the rumours about succubi on the internet were true, after all.

You weren’t going to give him what he wanted so easily, though. You weren’t that nice—he hasn’t earned it yet.

“Greedy,” you settled for a simple comment, leer morphing into something more innocent. You made sure to crook your fingers at a certain angle while pumping them in and out of his drooling hole, searching for the spot that made his toes curl and back arch, a filthy wail forcing his lips to part. “You sure you can handle that, baby?”

“Y-yeah,” Satoru moaned, “Breed me… please. Wanna carry master’s children.”

His womb tattoo glowed brighter, scorching hot underneath your touch. Satoru looked fucked out already and the night was still young, lidded eyes unfocused and glassy while he continued to grind down against your fingers, as though searching for something wider, thicker, deeper.

“Slut,” you snarled, and the word was barely fitting for how the succubus was acting. You pulled your fingers out, the emptiness making him ache. He gave a loud whine, his hips giving a desperate buck into the empty air, neglected cock red and hard, smearing pre-cum all over his womb tattoo.

“‘m your good slut,” he babbled, slurred for how drunk and stupid he sounded. You were sure anyone standing outside your bedroom would hear him with how loud he was being.

His mouth felt empty, you decided. A little too empty. You hooked a thumb into the stretchy side of his mouth before rubbing your fingers on his bottom lip, and he gave a soft keen, parting his lips for you to slide them inside, before lightly sucking on them—tasting his own juices.

“If you keep this up,” you warned, “Suguru will hear. You don’t want him hearing me making you scream, do you, Satoru? Or are you more of a pervert than I thought?”

“No,” he said, muffled by your fingers stuffing his mouth full, tears dribbling down his cheeks.

“Good sluts don’t talk with their mouth full,” you reminded him, gently brushing away his tears.

He shook his head quickly, whining. Satoru didn’t like to share, and you knew that. You were his bond, his human. You didn’t need another succubus. Right?

You bit down a smile at his blatant jealousy, pretending not to notice the presence right outside your room, the rustle of fabric unmistakable—barely covered by Satoru’s loud whimpers. It was a little too early to reveal it, with how both of them were enjoying themselves. You would indulge them a little longer.

You coated your fingers with his spit generously before pulling them out, a string of drool connecting the two, before reaching down and unceremoniously plugging them back into his needy hole. Satoru yelped, trying to snap his thighs shut at the sudden intrusion, and you took the opportunity to guide them to wrap around your waist. He flushed, stammering out an apology, but you wouldn’t miss this chance to tease him.

“Look at you, Satoru.” You continued to scissor him, occasionally pulling out to slather your cock with his sweet-smelling slick. “I haven’t even put it in yet, and here you are, drooling like we’ve been at it all night. Messy cockslut.”

“Your cockslut,” he whimpered, and it sharpened into a keen when you slowly drove forward to dip the head of your cock in his hole. It clenched around you greedily, and it felt incredible even with only the tip in, soft and wet and hungry, warmth oozing into you, making you burn with desire. What was even more incredible was the fact that Satoru was crying, tears spilling over red, flushed cheeks as he struggled to stay still for you, wanting to please, wanting forgiveness. “Hnngh… master…”

He was right. Satoru was your cockslut.

You leaned down to caress his wet cheek, the action only causing your cock to nudge deeper inside, the warm tightness nearly sending you into overdrive—making you moan. You had never been inside a hole this heavenly before. The snug stretch around your girth was insane, and if that wasn’t enough, his hole kept on fluttering and clenching around you, making delicious sensations bleed into you.

So the myths were true, after all—succubi were demons crafted for the sake of providing pleasure.

Your vision was growing hazy with lust, the heat in your belly growing. The pleasure was almost too much—but you held on. You would drain him before he drained you.

Grabbing him by the thick of his hips, you buried yourself to the hilt in one go, and Satoru let out a wrecked cry, fingers bunching up the sheets at the sudden stimulation. His womb tattoo sizzled and pulsed obscenely, and you reached down to gently press your palm against it, making him whimper loudly.

You didn’t know if you would be able to hold it in for much longer—with how the poor thing was squirming on your cock, sweet slick coating your cock with every thrust in and drive out, the carnal smell of it all making your appetite grow tenfold, making you want to strip him of all dignity and devour.

“Satoru,” you murmured, thrusting forward, and he answered with a keening wail of your name. “It seems like… we have a rather eager spectator. Should we invite him inside?”

“Wh-what…” Satoru said dumbly, whines interrupting his words as his eyes struggled to focus. “Spectator…?”

“Yeah.” You grinned as he realised who you were talking about, stiffening and shaking his head with a cry. He wanted to have you all to himself for a little longer… you haven’t even cum inside him yet. This wasn’t fair. “Let’s see if he’s just as much of a cock-hungry slut as you are, mm?”

You turned your head to the door. “Suguru. Come in.”

The door hesitantly creaked open, and Suguru stepped inside. Immediately, the sweetness of aroused succubi intensified in the room, a clash between Satoru’s sugary scent and Suguru’s honeyed one making you dizzy with want.

“Master,” Suguru swallowed, a red flush on his cheeks. He was dressed in a revealing dark purple night-robe, a ravishing complement to the long, black hair that cascaded down his shoulders. He looked at the two of you calmly, but you didn’t fail to notice the shine between his thighs, giving away how bothered he really was. “How long have you known?”

“Quite a while. Get on the bed and prepare yourself,” you ordered, turning back to the other succubus who was currently grinding himself senseless on your cock, little whines and pleas plucked out with each desperate roll of his hips. “I’ll deal with you after I’m done with Satoru.”

Suguru listened obediently, laying down on the bed on his back, night robe gracefully falling open to reveal his purple womb tattoo, already throbbing and glowing with heat and need. He reached down between his parted thighs, rubbing and pleasuring his hole while watching the two of you, soaking the mattress with how much slick he was producing.

You turned back to Satoru, the sight of his red, crying face sending a jolt of heat straight into your abdomen. “What?” You grinned, gripping his waist and starting to thrust into his tight heat again. “I did warn you.”

“S-so mean,” he sobbed, arching his back at the pleasure. He was whimpering again, warm walls hugging your length firmly every time you drove in, and you could tell he was getting close again, had been close before you had so cruelly stopped to indulge someone else. Satoru turned his head to look at the other succubus, their simultaneous pants and whines serving to make each other even more aroused, Satoru’s slick drenching your cock while Suguru’s messily dribbled all over his hand, obscene squelching noises like heavenly music to your ears.

“Gonna cum,” you announced, and both of them answered you with needy, high-pitched whines, Suguru fingering himself to your thrusts while Satoru laid there, moaning and sobbing, reduced to nothing but a pliable body made to take and take and take.

The latter blinked up at you with glossy eyes, tears dotting on his lashes and crying out lewdly while you continued to pound into him like a rabid animal. Satoru loved it, how rough and careless you were treating him, your gentle hands telling a different story as they caressed his face, the contrast of pain and pleasure making him shiver. No one had been able to satisfy him like this before. You were perfect for him.

“Please… your cum…” he pleaded, laying a hand on his pulsating womb tattoo, begging for you to fulfil his only purpose in life—to be filled and bred like the dumb slut he was. “I w-want it inside…”

You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, his warm hole sucking you deeper in with every flutter, every clench, showering you in waves of stimulation to the point where it teetered between pleasure and pain. Just when stars began to float across your vision in hazy swirls, a sign that you were close to orgasm, you pulled out hastily, ignoring Satoru’s desperate, keening sob, yanking Suguru towards you by the hips before roughly plunging your cock into his needy hole.

The startled moan that you pulled out from the other succubus was enough to drive you to the peak of your arousal, and you thrust a few more times before spilling into warm wetness with a loud, guttural groan.

When you came to be, there were two kinds of noises rebounding in the room—Satoru’s cries and Suguru’s whines.

“Master!” Satoru sobbed, bucking his hips into empty air as tears messily dripped down his face.

“M-master,” Suguru whimpered, drooling and panting, stuffed so full of cum and cock he could barely speak.

You moaned as you drew out from Suguru’s heat, watching as cum dribbled out from his puffy hole and onto the soaked mattress—and he let out a soft, needy whine, plugging two fingers inside himself to stop anything more from leaking out, as though to replace the fullness that he had felt before. You watched as he lay there shivering weakly, glowing womb tattoo tainted with streaks of white, and you realised that he had come just from you releasing inside him.

You swallowed, feeling your cock fill out again. Suguru really was a good slut. Perfect, even.

“Master…!” Satoru cried out again, gaze lingering on you and Suguru with an expression that could only be described as heartbroken, and you would feel sorry for him, if not for you catching sight of the softening cock resting against his heaving abdomen. The perverted thing had orgasmed from watching you cum inside someone else. If that wasn’t a sight.

“I never promised you anything, Satoru.” You looked down at the mess you had created, smiling innocently. “Plus, Suguru’s a far better slut than you are, don’t you think? After all, he waited patiently for his turn to be bred, unlike you.” You slumped down onto the bed with a heavy sigh, turning to Suguru and patting your lap. “Sit on my cock, baby.”

Suguru rubbed at his eyes, compliantly trudging over and straddling your waist, the length of your cock rubbing lewdly between his cheeks. He bit his lip, raising his hips until the tip of it nudged against his sore hole, the growing stretch more pleasurable than anything. Your cum turned out to be the perfect lubricant, and the intrusion was met with little resistance, allowing him to slowly sink down with a hungry whine.

“F-feels so goood,” he slurred, his eyes rolling back as you bottomed out, making the both of you moan. He mindlessly rubbed at his stomach, right above his womb, where you had gifted him a baby.

“See?” You looked at Satoru lazily, the poor thing watching in a mixture of arousal and frustration. “Suguru’s been so good for me. What have you done?”

Satoru wanted to cry again at your demeaning tone. This was too much. You were being so mean to him, when he was trying his best to atone for his wrongdoings! He didn’t deserve this treatment, not one bit. If Suguru gets a baby, then he should get one, too.

“I’m s-sorry,” he snivelled weakly. “Please, master… I promise I won’t ever misbehave again. I’ll be a good slut… I’ll do anything you want.”

You smiled. “Anything I want?”

He nodded, desperate.

“Sit on my face and I’ll think about it.”

Satoru wanted to protest, yank Suguru off your cock and ride it himself until you spurted heavy into his womb, showing you that he could please you just as much as the other succubus did, maybe even more. You were his, and naturally, your pleasure belonged to him as well. Suguru might be his best friend, but that didn’t mean Satoru liked to share his toys with him. But. . . if this was his last shot at gaining your forgiveness, then he would do whatever it takes to please you, even if it meant suppressing his needs for the time being.

He scrambled over to where you were lying, carefully placing one knee on each side of your face, trembling with effort as he slowly lowered himself onto your face. He let out a soft, whiny keen as his position pressed his hole directly against your parted lips, and he struggled not to rut against your face—holding himself back from chasing after the addictive pleasure.

You gently lifted him by the hips to breathe, before pressing a light kiss to the twitching hole. Licking around Satoru’s swollen rim in an attempt to loosen him up, you rolled your hips up into the welcoming warmth of the other succubus, jolting out an erotic moan.

“You can start riding me, Suguru,” you muttered, closing your eyes and letting out a drawn-out moan as he gave a filthy clench around your length at the mention of his name. “Don’t hold back.”

“Yes, master,” Suguru whined, rolling his hips against yours in smooth, circular motions, and you could feel the slick leaking out from his hole, smothering your length with the abundance of it, sweet and sleek and thick. The succubus rode you like he was made to do it, his cock slapping against his womb tattoo messily with every bounce, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure—letting out a stream of whimpers and pleas while his hole fluttered around you tirelessly, trying to get you to cum inside him a second time.

You returned to your task at hand—giving a broad lick over Satoru’s dripping hole to gather some of his slick on your tongue, making him sob out a whine. It was sweet and intoxicating, addictive flavour melting in your mouth like sugar, and you couldn’t get enough—shoving your entire tongue into him before eating him out in earnest.

And sweet lord, did he taste good. He was squeezing around you deliciously, releasing so much slick that it dripped all over your chin and down the column of your throat, making a mess. It drove you crazy. Before you knew it, you were making animalistic noises against his swollen entrance as you made love to it with your tongue, the vibrations making him croon with pleasure. And by now, you were sure that succubi slick had aphrodisiac effects, because with every mouthful that you swallowed, you found it harder and harder to control yourself, wanting to just give in to your arousal and take.

“Please,” Satoru was sobbing loudly, feeling wet and loose and dirty, thighs trembling with little restraint as you lifted him up and down your tongue with ease, reaching so deep one would think you were trying to plunder his soul. “Gonna… gonna cum already…”

“M-me too,” Suguru chimed in with a moan, hips growing wearier with every lift, his impending orgasm making him weak, the fullness of cock giving him the illusion of heaviness, and he held his belly as though he were pregnant already.

You continued to pleasure the both of them the best you could, tongue curling inside Satoru with precision to press against his sweet spot until he was shaking and whimpering with overstimulation—while rolling your hips up to meet Suguru’s, feeling him needily clench around you every time you rammed up just right.

You could feel yourself getting closer as well, the noises that your two obscene lovers were making serving to turn you on even more. Combined with the sinful pressure of Satoru’s sopping hole clenching around your tongue and the searing tightness of Suguru jumping on your cock, this was practically heaven.

Reaching over to grip Suguru’s hips, you thrust up repeatedly into his tight warmth, leaving the other to ride your tongue on his own. You groaned your pleasure into Satoru’s hole, and the succubus answered with a keening cry of “Master!”, grinding down against your face with wild abandon. Both of their womb tattoos were glowing brighter than ever, screaming at you to breed them, take them, devour them—and you did just that.

You rammed your hips up with a muffled shout, gripping Suguru’s waist so tightly you were sure it would leave dark bruises for days to come—unloading everything into his womb for the second time tonight—your seed, your love, your legacy. Suguru cried out loudly at the feeling of your cum filling him up, shuddering as his cock squirted all over the three of you—his stomach, your chest, Satoru’s back—while Satoru clenched around your tongue so tightly as his orgasm crashed over him like a hurricane, cumming all over your face and the mattress with a hoarse scream.

You gasped for breath the moment Satoru slid off your face and collapsed onto the bed, panting heavily, black spots swirling heavily in your vision—the aftermath of the most intense orgasm you’ve had in your entire life. Succubi—no, your succubi really were something.

Suguru was too tired to even protest as your softening cock slid out from his sheath, dragging out a trail of slick and cum. Yawning, he shifted to lay on the bed on his stomach, mumbling “Thank you, master,” before his eyes drooped shut in exhaustion. You watched him fondly, reaching out to card a hand through his silky hair, before a soft, almost petulant whine caught your attention.

Satoru was glaring at the other succubus with jealousy. Sure, he had gotten a mind-blowing orgasm out of it, but he wanted you filling him up until he felt bloated with your cum, wanted to be bred.

You let out an amused laugh. “You want my cum that bad?”

He nodded his head frantically.

“Well, then…” You turned to where Suguru had fallen asleep, cum trickling out of his asshole and sliding down his perineum steadily. You guess it would be somewhat of a waste to just leave him be. “Since Suguru took your share for the night. . . there you go. Have a taste.”

Satoru’s face was slightly pale when you turned back to look at him, a sick grin stretching at your lips. He didn’t question you, however, quietly crawling over until he was kneeling between Suguru’s legs. His heart was pounding, your words earlier that night replaying in his head again and again like mantra—a good slut listens to orders.

Making eye contact with you, he poked his tongue out, slowly leaning down before giving the excess cum a tentative lick. . . and swallowed.

You were sure those were hearts exploding in his eyes.

kinktober masterlist! masterlist!

13K notes · View notes

aramha · 24 days ago

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ꜱɪʀ, ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ ꜰɪɴᴇ | ʙᴏ ᴄʜᴏᴡ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴘᴛ.2

You were still trying to catch your breath — still perched all pretty on that wobbly old stool in the back storeroom — your dress hitched up indecently high, your thighs sticky and trembling.

And Bo Chow — Lord have mercy — he just stood there.

Cool as you please.

Straightened up to his full height — the buttons of his crisp white shirt stretched just a little across his broad chest — and tilted his head at you.

That little tilt— like he was studying something he was about to break just to put it back together again.

And then—

his voice.

Low. Sweet. Thick like honey poured real slow from the jar.

"Where you want it, sweetheart?" "Front or back?"

Your whole body shivered.

A deep, aching heat rolled through you so thick you almost couldn't breathe.

You should’ve been embarrassed. You should’ve blushed, fidgeted, something.

But you didn’t.

You met his gaze — eyes wide, breathing uneven — and somehow, somehow, you found the guts to say it:

"However you want it…sir."

Something dark and wild flickered in Bo’s eyes.

Not surprise.

Satisfaction.

Like he knew all along you were gonna fold for him — and now you had.

Good and proper.

He huffed a little chuckle through his nose — low, raspy, wrecking you without even trying.

"Yeah?" he said, cocking an eyebrow.

Drawled it out slow, almost teasing. His hand flexed loose at his side — like he was thinking about how exactly he wanted to handle you.

The tension crackled in the air— sweet and hot and dangerous.

Bo took a slow step toward you.

Boots heavy on the old wood floor.

You couldn't look away — felt frozen in place, heart pounding in your throat.

Without a word — he leaned down, slow and deliberate, and wrapped those big, rough hands around your ankles.

Gentle.

Almost careful.

You shivered when his fingers brushed your bare skin.

He found your panties — the ones bunched messily around your ankles — and with a little smirk, pulled them back up for you.

Real slow. Real deliberate. Like he was taking his time dressing you — only because it was his pleasure to undress you later.

The soft fabric dragged up your calves, your thighs — until it snapped back into place under your dress.

Bo let his hands linger at your hips— thumbs pressing into the soft curves — before he straightened up again.

God, he was so tall. So broad. So dangerous.

And still—

still a damn gentleman about it.

"You still got a job to do, sunshine," he murmured, voice syrup-sweet and rough-edged.

"Customers waitin’."

He winked — the cockiest, filthiest little wink you ever saw — and then turned and strode for the door without a second glance back.

Left you there.

Shaking. Flushed. Soaked through. Panting like you’d just run a mile barefoot.

You slid off the stool with shaking knees — hands smoothing your skirt down, trying to fix yourself — but it was no use.

You felt ruined.

And Bo Chow?

He knew it.

He wanted you to feel it.

The door swung back open a second later — and he popped his head in, grinning that wicked grin.

"Don't fret, sweetheart," he drawled. "I'll give it to ya later."

And then he was gone again — his voice still floating in the air like smoke and sin.

You stumbled out into the main store — face hot, hands shaking, body still thrumming with leftover need.

The bell over the door jingled as a new customer walked in. And there was Bo — already behind the counter, wiping his hands on a rag, cool and casual like he hadn’t just had his mouth on you five minutes ago.

You caught his eye across the room.

He winked again.

Slow. Confident. Wicked.

You almost dropped the basket you were holding.

Lord have mercy.

You were in so much trouble.

And you loved it.

The second the store closed and that front door clicked shut, Bo was on you.

No words. No soft coaxing. Just heat—raw and blinding.

He gripped your wrist, real firm but not hurting, and pulled you to the truck outside without a damn care for anything else. Tossed your basket onto the seat beside you like it weighed nothing.

You barely had time to blink before he was climbing behind the wheel— those big, work-worn hands flexing around it tight enough to make the leather creak.

You sat there, squirming on the cracked leather bench seat, heart hammering outta your chest, sneaking glances at him out the corner of your eye.

Good Lord.

The rolled-up sleeves. The thick forearms dusted with dark hair. The way his jaw ticked when he caught you looking and grinned like he knew exactly what you were thinking.

Bo didn’t say much on the ride.

Just kept one big hand firm on your thigh the whole way back. Fingers squeezing sometimes, like he just had to remind himself you were real. His thumb stroking lazy circles on your skin. Low, rumbling hums escaping his throat when you shifted, when your skirt crept higher, when your breathing hitched.

You pulled up to a squat little house on the edge of town — plain and sturdy, just like him.

Before you could reach for the door handle, Bo was already moving.

Rounded the truck, opened your door for you, and when you hopped down — too slow for his liking — he just grabbed you.

Big hands under your thighs — hauling you up against him like you weighed nothing.

You gasped, clinging to his shoulders. The muscles there flexed hard under your fingers.

"Don't worry, sunshine," he rasped, lips brushing your ear. "Ain't gonna drop ya. 'M gonna take real good care of you."

He carried you clean into the house — booted the door shut behind him — and didn’t stop moving 'til he had you in his bedroom.

Dropped you right on the mattress — rough but careful — and stood back just long enough to unbutton his sleeves and shove them up his thick forearms.

You stared.

Lord have mercy.

The cut of his arms. The thick veins. The wide, calloused hands that had already ruined you once today and were about to do it again.

You scrambled up onto your knees at the edge of the bed, reaching for him without even thinking.

And Bo — God bless him — caught your wrists in one big hand, smirking like the devil himself.

"So greedy already, sweetheart?" he teased, voice syrup-slow and mean-sweet.

You nodded fast — bold and shameless now, drunk on him — and whispered:

"Please."

Bo chuckled low in his chest — that filthy sound that made your whole body clench.

He leaned down — gripped the hem of your dress — and yanked it up over your hips without ceremony.

You were soaked for him.

His eyes darkened, heavy and hot.

"Fuckin' hell," he muttered. "Look at you. Drippin' for me already."

He told you to get on your hands and knees. Of course you listened.

He shoved at your back, real gentle but real firm, until you were braced on your elbows, ass high for him.

You gasped when you felt him— big, hot, hard against the back of your thigh.

You twisted around to look at him— wide-eyed, panting.

Bo just laughed under his breath.

One hand gripped your hip— tight enough to bruise— and the other lined himself up right at your entrance.

"Hold still for me, sugar," he rasped. "Gonna make you feel real good."

And then he pushed in— slow at first—just the thick head stretching you open— until you whimpered desperately and pushed back against him, needing more.

Bo groaned — low and filthy — and gripped your hips even tighter.

"Greedy lil thing," he panted. "Want all of it, huh?"

"Y-yeah—sir—" you gasped.

He laughed — a rough, broken sound — and slammed the rest of the way in.

You saw stars. Your elbows buckled, your body rocked forward with the force of it.

Bo grabbed a fistful of your hair — yanked your head back just enough to murmur in your ear:

"Takin' me so good, pretty girl." "So tight around me."

Then he started to move.

Rough. Hard. Deep.

Driving into you like he owned you — like you were his and only his — like he was gonna fuck every other thought right outta your pretty little head.

You cried out — loud and gasping and needy — hand reaching back to push against him — as if that would do anything. but not broken.

Never broken.

Just wild and burning for him.

Every time his hips snapped against your ass, his hand slid rough over your waist— holding you still, guiding you where he wanted you.

At one point, he gave your ass a light smack — just a quick, sharp tap — and rumbled:

"That's it, baby. Take it."

You keened — high and breathless — and he laughed, rough and full of filthy pride.

He didn’t slow down. No —

Kept you bent just right, his thick cock hitting that sweet, aching spot inside you over and over— kept you teetering right on the edge of breaking.

Every inch of you burned for him. Every thrust punched little moans from your throat. You could barely breathe, barely think—

And you loved it.

You loved the way he handled you— like he couldn’t get enough, like he needed you.

"Gonna come for me, sweetheart?" he panted against your ear. "Gonna let me fill this sweet lil pussy up?"

"Yes—sir—yes—" you sobbed, desperate and honest.

Bo groaned low — like he was proud of you — and reached around, sliding two thick fingers to rub tight circles over your clit while he kept pounding into you from behind.

That was it.

The world shattered — heat exploding behind your eyes — your body locking up, clenching around him hard enough to drag a deep, broken curse from his throat.

Bo drove into you three more times — deep, brutal strokes — before he spilled inside you with a low, ragged groan.

You collapsed forward onto the mattress, gasping, shaking. Bo slumped over you, breathing heavy against your shoulder.

He didn’t pull away.

Just stayed there — heavy and warm and solid — pressing kisses to the nape of your neck.

Real soft now. Real sweet.

After a minute, he finally leaned back— ran a hand over your back, your ass, your thighs — soothing, praising, claiming.

"Good girl," he murmured. "Took me so fuckin' good."

You smiled — soft and wrecked and stupidly happy — and let him roll you into his arms.

Safe. Satisfied. Ruined.

You barely had a second to catch your breath before Bo was shifting under you — reaching up, grabbing your hips, flipping you onto him with zero effort.

You landed across his broad chest, sprawled and gasping, blinking down at him.

He looked wrecked— hair wild, jaw tight, chest heaving.

But his cock— Jesus Christ— his cock was still hard.

Thick and heavy against his stomach. Still leaking, still hungry.

You swallowed hard.

Bo just grinned — slow and wolfish — and tapped two fingers against your thigh.

"C'mon, sugar." "Ain't done with you yet." "Get up here. Ride me like a good girl."

Your whole body throbbed at the command. You nodded — eager, aching — and scrambled up.

Bo leaned back against the headboard, hands braced behind his head, just watching you with lazy, hooded eyes.

Letting you do the work.

Letting you prove yourself.

You straddled his hips — reached down to wrap your hand around the base of him — and whimpered a little at the sheer size.

Still so thick. Still so hot and hard it made your mouth water.

You hovered over him, breathing fast.

Bo chuckled under his breath.

"What's the matter, sunshine?" he rasped. "You scared now?"

You narrowed your eyes — stubborn — and shook your head.

He smirked.

"That's my girl."

You lined him up again — rubbed the fat head against your soaked folds — and sank down slow.

FUCK.

Your body clenched around him, struggling to take it — as if your pussy just forgot what he felt like. He stretched you so wide it bordered on pain— but it felt so good you couldn't stop.

Bo groaned low when you bottomed out — his hands gripping your thighs so tight you could already feel the bruises blooming.

"Tight fuckin' pussy," he muttered. "Jesus Christ. Fit me like a damn glove."

You whimpered, dizzy with how full you felt.

But he wasn’t satisfied yet.

Bo loosened one hand from your thigh — licked his thumb — and reached down, slicking it over your clit with rough, filthy circles.

You jerked, crying out, hips grinding against him without meaning to.

"That's it, pretty girl," he growled. "Show me how bad you want it."

You started to move.

Slow at first — rocking your hips back and forth — feeling every thick inch of him drag against your walls.

Bo leaned his head back, eyes fluttering shut, mouth open on a ragged moan.

You rode him harder. Faster. Chasing that hot, electric feeling building low in your belly.

"Boooo." your head tilted back, eyes squeezing shut. the man onl

Your hands planted on his chest — fingers digging into the hard muscle — and you used him like he told you to.

"Fuckkk, baby," he grunted. "Look at you. Bouncin' on my cock like you were fuckin' made for it."

You whined — high and broken — but kept going.

Kept grinding down on him, riding him so good his thighs flexed under your knees.

At some point, he grabbed your hips and started fucking up into you — meeting your thrusts with brutal, punishing strokes. Had your jaw slack, letting out broken moans.

The slap of skin on skin filled the room. The headboard banged against the wall. You didn’t care.

You chased it — the pleasure, the heat, the way Bo made you feel like nothing else in the whole goddamn world mattered.

You felt yourself getting close again — too fast — overwhelmed but desperate for it.

Bo saw it.

Felt the way you started trembling on top of him.

He grinned — sharp and feral — and gripped your chin in one hand, forcing you to look down at him.

"You wanna come?" he panted. "Wanna make a mess all over my cock?"

You nodded.

"Please—please, sir—"

Bo's thumb pressed tight against your clit — cruel and perfect — and he groaned:

"Then fuckin' take it. Show me how bad you need it."

That was it.

You shattered again — crying out his name — body locking up around him so tight he cursed under his breath, fucking up into you harder to ride it out.

You collapsed against his chest, shaking.

But Bo didn’t let up.

Not yet. The man sighed like he was bored.

"Uh uh," he rasped against your hair, wrapping one big arm around your waist, holding you pinned. "Ain't done with you, sweetheart." "Gonna ride me 'til I say we're done."

You whimpered — not from fear, not from pain — but from the raw, burning NEED he dragged out of you.

You wanted it. You wanted him.

You nodded into his chest — barely managing a breathless:

"Yes, sir."

Bo chuckled — soft and rough and full of pride.

He grabbed your hips again — started bouncing you up and down on his cock, using your body like his favorite toy.

You moaned, wrecked and shaking but so fucking happy you couldn’t even think straight.

You'd give him anything.

Everything.

It felt like forever.

Bo kept you riding him through two more orgasms — holding you there, stuffed full and gasping — until he finally groaned deep and broken against your neck, hips jerking up hard one last time.

You felt him pulse deep inside you — hot and thick — and you whimpered at the stretch, the heat, the feeling of being so full you could hardly breathe.

Bo slumped back against the pillows, dragging you down with him.

Panting. Shaking.

You both laid there — sweaty, trembling, ruined — and he ran a heavy hand up and down your back, soothing you.

"You did so good," he murmured, kissing your hair. "Took every goddamn inch of me like a fuckin' champ."

You smiled against his chest — weak and giddy and so, so full — and whispered:

"Anything for you, sir."

You laid flat on your back, dazed, the sheets twisted under you. Your thighs still trembled from the way Bo had used you, and you could feel his cum already leaking out of you, sticky and warm between your legs.

You barely had the strength to lift your head.

Bo shifted beside you — big and solid and alive — and you thought maybe he was just gonna pass out too.

Instead, you heard him grunt softly.

"Stay there, baby," he murmured.

You felt the bed dip as he stood up — bare-ass naked, heavy steps toward the bathroom.

You tried to lift your head again, but everything was heavy. You flopped back down, whining a little.

Bo came back a moment later — shirtless, flushed, eyes dark but soft — holding a warm, damp rag in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

He dropped the rag on the bed for a second — reached out — and brushed your hair back from your sticky forehead.

"Look at you," he said, voice low and rough. "Wore you the fuck out, huh?"

You gave a weak, sleepy nod.

Bo chuckled — not unkind — and leaned down to kiss your temple.

"'S what happens when you ask for all of me, sugar," he whispered.

He crouched down beside the bed, gentle but firm.

Picked up the rag.

And started cleaning you up.

Slow, careful wipes between your thighs — soft shushing sounds when you whined at the oversensitive feeling.

He was so tender you wanted to cry — but not from sadness. From how safe he made you feel.

He cleaned every inch of you — your thighs, your stomach, even the sticky patches on your hip where he'd gripped you too hard — until you were fresh and warm and shivering again for a different reason.

Bo tossed the rag into the laundry basket without even looking.

Grabbed the glass of water.

Sat on the edge of the bed and slid his big hand under your head — lifting you up against his chest like you weighed nothing.

He pressed the cool glass into your hands.

"Drink, baby," he said — voice brooking no argument.

You blinked blearily up at him — exhausted, limp — but you tried.

Took a few weak sips.

Bo watched you, unsmiling now. Patient. Waiting.

When you faltered — your hands shaking — he tsked quietly.

Took the glass from you with one hand, tipping it back to your lips.

"Uh uh," he said under his breath. "Told you to drink, sweet girl. Need you hydrated for me, yeah?"

The water spilled against your mouth as he tilted it — not enough to choke you, but enough that you had no choice but to swallow.

You drank it down in slow gulps, the cold water easing some of the haze in your brain.

Bo murmured soft praise against your hair the whole time:

"There you go." "Good girl." "My good girl."

When the glass was empty, he set it aside.

Held you against his chest for a minute longer — stroking slow, lazy circles on your bare back — before pulling away just enough to look you in the eye.

His hand cupped your jaw — thumb stroking your cheekbone.

"Bathroom now, baby," he said, voice firm but quiet. "Need you to go pee for me, alright?"

You wrinkled your nose, sleepy and a little embarrassed.

Bo smirked — saw it all over your face.

"Don't get shy on me now," he teased, flicking your forehead.

You grumbled — soft and half-hearted — but you slid out of bed.

Bo watched you the whole way — arms folded behind his head, cocky and content — until you disappeared into the bathroom.

You heard him chuckle low when you slammed the door behind you.

When you came back out — legs still wobbly, wearing nothing but his crumpled button-down — Bo held out one hand.

You crossed the room like you were sleepwalking. Crawled right back into the bed, right back onto him, like you belonged there.

Bo caught you against his chest — kissed the top of your head — and tucked the blankets up around your bare legs.

"Good girl," he murmured again — a low, private sound just for you. "My best girl."

You mumbled something — half a thank you, half a love letter — but it didn’t matter.

Bo already knew.

He kissed you — slow and deep and tender — his hand cradling the back of your head like you were the most precious thing he'd ever touched.

You sighed against his mouth — soft and full — and melted into him like you were made to fit there.

Bo smiled into the kiss.

"Get some sleep, sugar," he whispered, nuzzling your cheek. "Ain't done with you yet. Got a whole night left to love on you."

A/N: I was supposed to post this yesterday...sorry

3K notes · View notes

aramha · 24 days ago

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ꜱɪʀ, ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ ꜰɪɴᴇ | ʙᴏ ᴄʜᴏᴡ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

The bell over the door gave a tired little jingle when you pushed it open, stepping in from the heat and dust of the street — 𝓑𝓸 𝓒𝓱𝓸𝔀 & 𝓒𝓸 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐓𝐀 ɢʀᴏᴄᴇʀʏ & ᴍᴀʀᴋᴇᴛ Your shoes were worn thin. Your dress was simple cotton, sticking to the back of your knees.

And you were tired — bone-tired — from chasing one dead-end job after another across this godforsaken town.

You needed work. Or a miracle. Or both.

The store smelled like tobacco and dry wood, with a hint of something sweeter — maybe the candy in the jar by the counter, or the bright bruised apples piled up in baskets.

Shelves lined the walls, packed with everything from flour sacks to pistol rounds. It was the kind of place where a man could buy a loaf of bread, a hammer, and a coffin without walking more than twenty feet.

You adjusted your bag on your shoulder, wiping sweat from your forehead, trying not to look as desperate as you felt. It was quiet inside, but not empty.

There, behind the counter, sleeves rolled up over strong forearms, stood a man.

And Lord Almighty. You almost forgot how to breathe.

He was fine — broad through the shoulders, lean through the waist — and the worn suspenders crossing his chest did nothing to hide it. Dark hair, a little mussed like he'd run his fingers through it a hundred times that morning already. Sharp jaw. Sleeves pushed up. And a cigarette dangling careless between his lips.

He watched you over the top of the ledger he was scribbling in, one eyebrow tilting up slow, like he wasn't quite sure if you were real or a heat mirage rolling in off the road.

"You lost, darlin'?" His voice was rough, low. Not unfriendly. But not soft, either.

You swallowed. Your cheeks burned hotter than the sun outside.

"No, sir," you managed, clearing your throat. "I'm lookin' for work."

He tilted his head a little. The cigarette bobbed between his fingers as he tapped ash into a tin. There was a long, heavy pause, stretching thin between you like taffy pulled too far.

He leaned forward, arms braced on the counter, and you caught the faint scar along the side of his throat — a rough, pale line disappearing beneath his shirt. He smelled like leather and smoke and maybe something wilder, something you couldn’t name.

"Ain't much work left 'round here," he said finally. "Dust's got more jobs than we do."

Your heart sank. You started to thank him anyway — ready to turn, ready to leave with your pride shriveled up tight inside you —

But then he said, almost too casual:

"You know how to tally numbers? Take stock? Keep folks from stealin' when I ain't lookin'?"

You blinked up at him. Nodded fast.

"Yes sir. I can read, write, count. And I can run a register." (You prayed you didn’t sound as breathless as you felt.)

Bo Chow smiled then — real slow, real lazy. Like maybe he hadn't smiled all day until now. Maybe longer.

And damn if it didn’t feel like that smile was just for you.

"Might have somethin' for you after all," he said, nodding toward the back room. "Mornings, couple hours. Pay ain't much, but it's clean work. And you get first pick if any more fruit comes in."

You tried to smile back, tried not to look like a fool.

"I'd be grateful," you said. "Truly."

"Name's Bo Chow," he said, holding out a calloused hand across the counter. "Most folks just call me Bo."

You put your hand in his, and he squeezed it firm — just enough to make your stomach flip once, twice. His skin was warm. Rough in the right way.

Your name felt small and clumsy on your tongue when you said it. He repeated it once under his breath — tasting it — like he was putting it away somewhere safe.

You heard boots scuffing behind you — a couple old-timers coming in, hats low over their faces — and Bo dropped your hand slow, like he hated letting go.

"Be here six sharp tomorrow," he said, voice dropping a little lower. "Don't make me come hunt you down."

And Lord, the way he said it — like it was a promise, like it was a threat, like maybe he wouldn't mind hunting you down at all —

You walked out of that store with your heart rattling around in your ribs, a stupid grin tugging at your mouth. The dust hit your boots. The sun hit your eyes. But you hardly felt it.

All you could think about was him. About Bo Chow, the cigarette smoke curling around his smile. About how, maybe you'd finally found something worth staying for.

The next morning, you showed up just before six — hair pinned back, boots polished best you could manage, apron folded under your arm.

The sun wasn’t even fully up yet, just a pale silver smear over the flat line of the fields.

The streets were empty except for a stray dog.

You hesitated at the door, heart hammering. What if he changed his mind? What if he realized you weren’t worth the trouble?

But the second you pushed inside, the warm smell of tobacco and cedar wrapped around you like an old blanket — and there he was.

Bo Chow.

Behind the counter, sleeves rolled again over those damn forearms, shirt tucked messy into dark trousers, suspenders hanging low on his hips like he hadn’t bothered to fix them yet. He was counting cash, cigarette stuck lazy between his teeth, the smoke curling up in slow silver ribbons.

He glanced up when he heard the door — and you swear, you swear, for a half second he smiled. A real one. That soft kind, just at the corner of his mouth. Just for you.

"You're early," he said, voice rough with sleep. "Good."

You nodded, setting your things down behind the counter.

Your hands shook a little, but you kept busy — dusting, sweeping, checking the register like he told you. He didn’t hover. Just gave quiet instructions here and there, moving around the store slow and easy, like he had all the time in the world.

And it was the little things — God, it was the little things — that drove you crazy.

You noticed it first when he leaned down to pull a crate from under the counter — how his shirt stretched tight over his back, fabric whispering against muscle. How a lock of dark hair fell over his brow and he huffed it out of the way without even noticing.

You caught yourself staring. Snapped your head down fast, pretending to reorganize the fruits and vegetables.

Then it was the way he stood — shoulders wide, hips cocked lazy — arms crossed over his chest as he watched you figure out how to load the till.

There was something about the way he moved — no wasted steps, no fidgeting — like he didn’t have to try to own the space around him. He just did.

And Lord, when he laughed —

Low, unexpected — a real rough chuckle that rumbled from his chest when you nearly dropped the glass candy jar and caught it at the last second — God, you felt it down to your toes.

"Careful, sunshine," he drawled. "Ain't but one of you, and glass is expensive."

You ducked your head, face burning. But you couldn’t help smiling.

Around mid-morning, after he nailed up a new shelf in the back, Bo wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. You offered him the water you packed — nervous, feeling silly. He took it with a little nod, mouth brushing the rim where yours had been without hesitation.

And when he handed it back — his fingers brushed yours. Calloused. Warm.

You felt it like a jolt of lightning, sharp and sweet under your skin.

"You doin' alright?" he asked, voice low. "Ain't scarin' you off yet?"

You shook your head fast.

"No, sir."

That slow smile again — like he was proud of you, somehow. It made your chest ache.

The rest of the day passed in slow, golden hours. He showed you how to track inventory, how to read the order forms, how to spot the difference between good grain sacks and ones chewed through by mice.

And every little thing — the way he squinted against the sun when he stepped outside, the way he twirled the pencil between his fingers when he thought, the way he touched the brim of his hat polite to the older ladies who passed by — every little thing made you fall harder.

You were a fool. You knew it. But God help you, you couldn’t stop.

Near closing time, when the shadows stretched long across the floorboards, Bo lit the oil lamps and turned the sign to CLOSED.

The town settled into quiet outside, the cicadas starting up their low hum.

You packed up your things, heart heavy. You didn’t want to leave.

He leaned back against the counter, cigarette smoke curling around his head like a halo, watching you with that unreadable look. Not smiling. Not frowning. Just watching.

And before you left — just as you reached the door — he said:

"You did good today."

You turned, surprised.

He flicked ash into a tin, voice casual, almost too casual:

"Could use someone steady around here. Someone like you." "If you want it — job’s yours."

You tried to speak — tried to say yes, of course, yes, thank you, yes — but all that came out was a breathless little whisper.

"I'd like that."

Bo nodded slow, eyes never leaving yours.

"Good," he said. "Real good."

You just huffed and left the store.

You showed up early again the next morning. Couldn’t help yourself. You barely slept — just laid in your bed all night staring at the ceiling, heart banging around your ribs like a fist.

You kept seeing him — that rough smile, that lazy slouch against the counter, the way his hands moved — big and calloused and sure — like he could tear the whole damn world down if he wanted, but he didn’t. He was gentle with you.

You dressed careful — simple skirt, neat tucked-in blouse, hair tied back. Nothing fancy. But you caught yourself smoothing it down a dozen times on the walk to the store.

You weren’t scared of work. You weren’t scared of Bo, either. Not really.

What scared you — if you were honest — was how badly you wanted him to look at you again the way he had yesterday. Like he saw you.

The bell over the door jingled when you pushed inside — and there he was.

Bo Chow.

Good Lord.

You almost had to grab the doorframe to keep from sliding down it.

Today he had the vest on — rich brown canvas, snug over his shoulders and chest — shirt rolled at the sleeves again, forearms out, tan skin dusted with faint scars like old stories he never bothered to tell. Trousers fit firm around his slutty waist, boots scuffed from work.

He looked up from stocking the shelves — and when he saw you, a flash of something warm crossed his face. Almost hidden. Almost.

"Mornin’, sunshine," he said, voice low and gravelly. "Thought you might show."

You swallowed hard, managed a nod.

He stood up slow, dusting his hands off on a rag. That damn vest hugged him in all the right places. Made your stomach flip and knot in ways that felt dangerous.

You got to work without being told, moving behind the counter, checking the inventory list. Trying to pretend like your heart wasn’t about to explode out your chest.

It didn’t help that Bo kept brushing close — not on purpose, not really — but every time you turned around he was there.

At one point, you bent to grab a crate from under the counter — and when you stood up, you bumped right into him.

Hard, solid chest — vest scratchy and warm against your back — his hand catching your waist automatically to steady you.

Big palm. Firm grip. Fingers splaying wide before he yanked them back like he touched a hot stove.

You both froze.

For one wild second, the whole store was silent — just the sound of the clock ticking on the wall — his breath brushing the back of your neck.

Then he cleared his throat, stepping back.

"Easy, now," he said rough, almost scolding. "Ain't tryna bust that pretty nose, are ya?"

You flushed so hot you thought you might catch fire. Mumbled something — you didn’t even know what — and ducked your head fast.

Later, you were coming out of the storage closet — arms full of ledgers — right as Bo was striding in.

Instead of waiting — instead of shrinking back — you moved right past him. Real smooth. Real bold.

Except — the space was too damn narrow.

Your hip brushed his thigh — your shoulder scraped his chest — and your ass — oh, Lord — your ass skimmed right up against his front when you slid by.

You felt him go still — felt his hand twitch at his side like he had to physically stop himself from grabbing you. You didn’t dare look up.

You just kept moving, pretending you didn’t notice, pretending your whole body wasn’t screaming at you.

Behind you — you swore you heard him swear low under his breath. Real soft. Real dangerous.

You bit your lip so hard it hurt just to keep from smiling.

By noon, the air inside the store was thick and heavy with heat. Bo shed the vest finally, slinging it over a hook near the door. You caught a glimpse of the way his shirt clung to him — the long line of his back, the strong slope of his shoulders.

You caught yourself staring again — caught yourself wanting — and forced yourself to look away.

But Bo must’ve noticed, because a minute later he drifted close — reached past you for something on the shelf — his hand landing light on your waist to move you out the way.

He didn’t even think about it. Just did it. Like you were his already.

Your breath hitched so fast you nearly dropped the jar in your hands.

"‘Scuse me, sunshine’," he said, real soft in your ear. "You’re in the way."

You stood there dumb, blinking, as he brushed past — close enough to smell the salt and sun and cigarette smoke on him.

It wasn’t until later — after closing — when you were wiping down the counters and Bo was locking the door — that he spoke again.

"You work good," he said, voice low and thick. "Real good. Smarter than most the men that come through here."

You turned, heart hammering.

Bo was leaning back against the door — arms crossed — watching you. Face unreadable. Eyes dark.

You opened your mouth — to thank him, maybe — but he cut you off.

"How old are you, anyway?"

You stiffened.

You knew what he was asking. Knew why he was asking it.

You met his eyes steady, chin tilting up just a little.

"Turned eighteen last month," you said. "I'm grown, sir."

For a second — just a breath — something flickered across his face. Something hungry and dangerous and real.

Then it was gone, shuttered behind that calm mask he wore like a second skin.

He nodded once. Slow. Like he was making peace with something ugly inside himself.

"Alright, sunshine," he said rough. "Long as you know what you’re doin’."

You smiled — small and sweet and secret — because you did. You really, really did.

And Lord help you — you weren't planning on stopping.

The day dragged in slow — hot and heavy, same as always — but you didn’t mind.

Not when you got to watch him.

Bo moved like he wasn’t even trying. Stacking crates, counting stock, slouching against counters — and all you could do was sneak glances every chance you got.

The way his sleeves were pushed up to his elbows — showing off strong forearms, tan and scarred, veins running beneath the skin like little rivers. The way the muscles flexed under the fabric when he lifted something heavy.

His hands — God, his hands.

Big and rough, palms calloused from years of work. Knuckles scarred like he’d been in more fights than he’d ever admit.

You imagined what they’d feel like — skimming your skin, wrapping around your throat, curling in your hair.

It got harder and harder to focus on anything else.

You were wiping down the counter again — pretending to clean when you were really just looking at him — when you realized:

No customers.

None.

Just you and Bo. Alone. Heat swirling between you like smoke.

Your heart kicked up — wild, reckless.

And before you could talk yourself out of it — before you could remember to be scared or shy or good —

You moved.

Not too fast — a normal shaky pace.

You crossed the space between you in a few quick steps — grabbed his hand — and tugged him toward the back.

He let you.

No questions. No hesitation. Just a soft grunt, a half-smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he followed.

"What’s this, sunshine?" His voice was rough, curious, amused. "You stealin' me?"

You didn’t answer. You just pulled him through the narrow back door — into the storeroom, dim and warm and empty — and shoved him back against the wall.

You stood there, breathing hard. Heart hammering so loud you swore he could hear it.

Bo looked down at you — those dark eyes burning — and for a second you thought maybe he’d laugh, maybe he’d brush you off, maybe he’d tell you to run along like the little girl you weren’t anymore.

But he didn’t.

He tipped his chin down — lips brushing yours — and said low:

"You sure, sunshine?"

You nodded. Didn’t trust your voice.

That was all he needed.

He kissed you like he’d been waiting for it. Hard. Hungry. Hands grabbing your hips, dragging you against him.

Your head spun. The world tilted.

His mouth was hot and rough, teeth scraping your lower lip just enough to make you whimper — and God, the sound you made must’ve lit him on fire because he growled low in his chest and kissed you harder.

You clutched at him — hands fisting in his shirt, dragging him closer — and he let you, let you crawl all over him, like he was starving for it.

Like he’d die if you stopped.

At one point, you stumbled — tried to pull back to catch your breath — but he chased you, mouth claiming yours again, hands framing your face so careful, so tender even with how rough the kiss was.

You were dizzy with it — with him — with the feel of his body pressed against yours, all hard heat and steady muscle.

And then —

You did it.

Hands shaking, you grabbed his wrist — guided it up — placed his big, rough hand around your throat.

Gently. Like a question.

Like a please.

Bo froze.

For one hot, crackling second — everything in the room stopped moving.

His thumb brushed the side of your throat — slow, thoughtful. Not squeezing, just holding — just letting you feel the strength there, the weight of him.

He pulled back just enough to look you dead in the eye — something dangerous and filthy gleaming behind his gaze.

And he grinned — slow, wicked — all teeth and bad intentions.

"You into that shit, sunshine?" His voice was dark velvet, wrapping around you, making you shiver.

You nodded — breathless — grinding your hips against him like you couldn’t help it. (You couldn’t.)

His fingers flexed slightly, tightening just a fraction — not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you who was bigger, stronger, in charge.

You whimpered — so soft, so needy — and he laughed, low and rough, like you were the best damn thing he’d ever seen.

"Goddamn," he muttered, voice rough and reverent. "You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me."

Then he kissed you again — deeper, dirtier — hand still cradling your throat, the other roaming down your spine to pull you flush against him.

You melted into him — opened for him — let him take whatever he wanted.

Bo’s hand stayed loose around your throat a moment longer — thumb brushing the edge of your jaw, his breath ragged against your mouth — before he finally let go.

Not because he wanted to stop touching you — no. Because he wanted more.

He gave you a rough, breathless little grin — one you could feel in your knees — then reached down and grabbed you by the waist like you weighed nothing.

Lifted you right up.

Set you down on the nearest wooden stool — still warm from the heat of the barn outside, a little unsteady, but solid enough.

Your hands grabbed the edge of the stool instinctively — steadying yourself — eyes wide, heart pounding so hard you could barely hear.

Bo leaned back a half-step — just enough to drink you in.

The way your dress rode up, baring the soft skin of your thighs. The way you sat there all breathless, pupils blown wide, lips kiss-swollen and desperate for him.

He dragged a hand down his face — as if trying to keep himself together — and then just said low, almost to himself:

"Christ, you're pretty."

You didn’t even realize you were doing it — but your eyes kept dropping.

To his hands. Those big, rough, dangerous hands — scarred and calloused and strong.

You could feel the strength of them from here. Could imagine them wrapped around your hips, your waist, your throat — holding you down, holding you up, whatever he damn well pleased.

Your mouth went dry.

And Bo noticed.

His mouth curled into a wicked, knowing smirk.

"Yeah?" he rasped, voice dropping. "You like the look of my hands, sunshine?"

You swallowed hard — nodded.

You didn't even try to hide it.

And that was all he needed.

Bo stepped between your knees — crowding you close, body heat washing over you like a furnace — and ducked his head down.

Started kissing along your jaw — slow, wet, open-mouthed kisses trailing lower and lower.

You gasped when he found the spot just under your ear — sucked there hard enough to leave a mark — and he grinned against your skin when you tilted your head for him, helpless and wanting.

"Good girl," he muttered into your neck. "Gimme that pretty throat."

You could’ve melted right then and there.

His hands were everywhere — roaming up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts, dragging along the soft curves of your waist like he was memorizing you.

You arched into him — not even trying to play coy anymore.

You wanted him.

All of him.

And Bo — he was starving for you.

Before you could blink, he dropped to his knees.

Big, broad body sinking down in front of you — pressing your knees wider apart with those strong hands, pulling your panties down — looking up at you with something almost feral in his eyes.

"Gotta taste you, baby," he rasped, voice half-broken with need. "Been fuckin' dying for it."

You whimpered — hand flying to his hair instinctively — fisting in the thick dark strands as he shoved your dress up higher, higher, exposing you.

No hesitation.

Bo dove in like a man half out of his mind.

The first press of his mouth against you made you cry out — sharp and sweet — hips bucking up without you meaning to.

Bo groaned — like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted — and grabbed your thighs, holding you down, forcing you to stay right there for him.

His mouth was ravenous — lips and tongue working you open, devouring you like you were his last meal.

Messy. Loud. Absolutely, devastatingly good.

You tried to pull away once — overwhelmed, shaking, breath hitching in your throat — but he groaned and pulled you back down harder.

"Nah, baby." "You take it." "You let me eat this pretty little pussy just like this." "You fuckin’ taste how bad I want you."

You sobbed his name — it was pathetic, really. Hips grinding helplessly against his mouth — and Bo just groaned again, deeper, like he could come from this alone.

The wet slide of his tongue. The scrape of his teeth just barely grazing. The way he sucked your clit into his mouth and held it there until you were shaking.

He licked you like he owned you. Like he wasn’t gonna let you walk outta this storeroom until you knew exactly who you belonged to.

And when you finally came — loud and desperate, thighs clamping around his head — Bo just kept going.

Didn’t stop. Didn’t let up.

Made you ride it out — every shudder, every whimper, every sweet little broken cry.

When you finally slumped forward, boneless and ruined, hands still fisting in his hair —

Bo looked up at you — mouth slick with you, eyes dark and wild — and said, low and rough:

"Ain’t done with you yet, sunshine." "Not even close."

And you believed him.

You wanted him.

God help you — you wanted everything Bo Chow was about to give you.

A/N: LAWDDDD — I love me some Bo Chow...

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aramha · 24 days ago

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† MAKE IT STICK. REMMICK.FEM!READER

⊹ A/N; yk that one part in LCL where oliver’s giving it to connie from the back,,,, YUPYUP,,,,

⊹ WARNINGS; porn no plot.

⊹ MASTERLIST

=͟͟͞͞ ✧

“goddamn, baby, you gon’ take it like that- ain't ya?”

he muttered it low, more ragged breath than words, as his hand splayed over the damp small of your back, fingers digging in like he was anchoring himself to the earth while grinding that leaking, angry red cockhead right back into the mess of you. he’s got you pinned flat, belly to the bed, no room to run, no give, no grace. he grinds his hips down, balls slapping heavy against your cunt with each hungry thrust. your cheek stuck to the mattress, your mouth open, drool pooling in the corner as your body jolted forward with each rut- his hips smacking your ass like they hated you for being this tight, this full of him. he spit thick into his palm, smearing it down the base of his cock like his own slick wasn't already painting your thighs. “fuckin’ hell, girl- tight as a noose, aye..” slurred and broken over the wet echo of his thrusts. your ass bounced from the force, cheeks flushed and shimmering with sweat where he’d been biting earlier. the noises filled the room- his cock plunging deep with slick, gasping squelches, wet from your own mess and the spit he kept feeding your cunt like it was starving. you can feel the curve of his cock grazing up into your womb every time he bottoms out.

“shhiiit, listen t’that, sweetheart,” he moaned, hips rolling in faster, shallower. “so wet I’m drownin’ in ya. pussy’s talkin’ t’me, beggin’- ain’t no fuckin’ way she don’t want me puttin’ another load in her.”

his cock twitches inside you, hot and soaked, thick with a curve that keeps punching into that gummy spot over and over, relentlessly. you can hear the squelch each time he slides back, a fat drag of slick sucking him in with a wet pop. “you takin’ me so deep, darlin’- fuck, my tip’s kissin’ your womb, ain’t it? tell me. say it, say it’s right there, lemme hear how good it feels,” he gasped, voice cracking, tongue flicking out over your shoulder blade. that good, thick stretch of him, curved just so, driving straight into the part of you that made your toes curl, made your breath catch and your cunt clamp down like a vice. he howled. whole body buckled, arms trembling as he folded himself over you- sticky chest pressing down your back, wet curls hanging in your face as he gasped and panted like a man on his deathbed. “aww fffuck, m’spill’n again,” he slurred into your hair, hips still jerking forward with every pulse. “didn’t even mean to. didn’t even fuckin’ mean to, darlin'- pussy just took it outta me..” he shivered, full-body and pathetic, he never pulled out. stayed buried, thick and still twitching, drool slipping from his lip to your neck as he nuzzled into the soft skin beneath your ear. “gimme a minute,” he mumbled against your damp skin, breath hitching. “jus’-jus’ gotta feel you a lil’ longer. shit’s so good.” your cunt was still fluttering around him, greedy and open. he groaned, and with a grunt, pulled out just enough to see the creamy mess stretch between you both before he slammed back in, slower this time. deep. “aw, baby… baby, please,” he whined, voice gone nasal, cock sliding deeper again, already firming up. “one more. gimme one more- i promise i’ll be good- fuck, i’ll put my name in that pussy- carve it in with this fat fuckin’ cock- one more, sweetheart- jus’ one more, i swear- lemme make it stick, yeah?”

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aramha · 24 days ago

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TAKE 1🎬 -> + Stack. M x Reader +

Since I’ll be in the hospital for a while, I figured I’d post some my drafts for entertainment :)!

Summary: You and a troublesome man you like more than you let on…in the end it’s easy.

Contains: smut, a dash of degradation, established enough relationship, fat d!ck Stack because LOOK at him, country accents, rough s€x, manhandling, multiple ørgasms, overstimulation, he puts it zowwwwnnnn, gives you some of that “move yo hand”, mating press dirty talk, petnames, fucking filthy kissing, cuddles, and as per usual- this is for the ✋🏽 strictly for the ✊🏽

Y’all thank @dollerin <333!

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢ ﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉୨♡୧﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉୨♡୧﹉﹉﹉﹉

“Damn baby, you always this easy?”

Stack purrs out against the bare leg that’s currently hiked over his broad shoulder, voice dripping with condescension that’s a lot sweeter than the way he’s fucking into you.

The question is mean but it has its intended effect.

Goosebumps break over the surface of your flushed skin, choking on a whiny moan, cunt pulsating so tightly around him that he can feel you in his bones. A flurry of hiccuping sobs pour from your mouth cause you’re close. Again. Ordinarily, you’d try to defend your good name since you really were in fact not easy…or at least not until you’d met Stack. You’d heard of him before but never had the pleasure of making his acquaintance until he came strolling through your moms shop one day and found you instead.

At first you were stunned just making eye contact with him. Lidded brown eyes, dimples, plump lips- the gold on his teeth glinting at you and damn he was tall. Strutting up to introduce himself to you, accent thick with charm. However, you’d already heard of him and his way of giving women the roundabout and you’d decided right then and there that you’d be damned 11 ways to Sunday before you ever caught yourself on your back or knees for him.

Unfortunately, he was as relentless as he was gorgeous. Steadily pursuing you with the devil in his eyes and a grin on those full lips. Always hanging around- then, he’d disappear. As indifferent as you tried to be, dancing around his advances with light giggles and playful hands, when he’d vanish, you’d find yourself missing his face- or rather- his way of being, more like. See, Stack had this carefree almost cavalier demeanor but he was firm too. To you, that was his most attractive quality.

And he’d picked up on it. That you liked when he was a little firm with you.

From there all it took was a kiss.

Just barely brushing your lips when he leaned down, whispering teasingly against your lips, finger underneath your chin and you couldn’t keep the want from dripping out your eyes if you tried.

“Stop playing with me.”

To your surprise but not his- you listened.

Funny how you were so determined not to fall into his gravity and now look at you; sweat out hairstyle, sheer stockings ripped to hell along with your bra and underwear, being manhandled every which way, stretched out and creaming around the fattest cock you’ve ever had in your life as you moan in bliss- loving it.

Stack’s thrusts are deliciously brutal, hips snapping into yours while your legs hang over his shoulders like some harlot and sounding just like one, mouth dropped open while you cry and whine real pretty for him. Hissing through his teeth at the sight you make, Stack wedges his hands underneath the arch at the base of your back and grips tight- using your body as leverage to fuck into you even deeper. If the heat of the room wasn’t making you delirious then the way the fat head of his was smushing rough kisses into that soft patch of nerves would definitely do the trick. If this is what playing hard to get gets you then you’re seriously considering becoming a professional.

It gets to the point where your pussy is almost as loud as you are, prompting Stack to look down. A loud whistle barely makes it through the fog in your head and you try to bring your vision to focus. Your heart is going at least 100 miles per minute and you squeak as your legs are pushed so far back that your knees are touching your ears, Stack moving directly on top of you. Where the sudden flexibility came from you had no clue- but your awe is almost immediately overtaken by how full the new position has you feeling.

“O-oooh!”

Stack bites his lip as he watches your pretty face melt in pleasure, your normally sleepy eyes pop wide open, brows drawn together like you’re about to cry, lips forming that sexy ‘o’ as he slows down his strokes- letting you feel every inch of him. You were so gorgeous. Naked curves and soft skin crashing and rolling back into him then wrapping around even though you initially wanted damn near nothing to do with him. The thought makes him smirk in satisfaction until he’s brought out of his thoughts by the feel of your trembling hand just above where your bodies are connected. He pulls out halfway nice n slow, looking down to see what the fuss is and his heart almost pounds out of his chest.

Slathered all over his dick, is milky white. It streams out generously from your hole around where he’s stuffed in and Stack feels himself start to lose his mind a little bit as he moans out,

“Yeahhh mamas, she’s real easy f’me…”

He doesn’t take his eyes off your cunt as he slams back in with a wet ‘plap’- throwing his head back with a deep groan. The sound is so primal it sends nasty shivers up your spine but you don’t move your hand and he’s folding you even deeper, lowering his upper body almost completely against yours, pelvis grinding against your clit and you gasp wetly. Stack is wild, sucking bruising kisses into your neck, tongue trailing hotly up to your mouth to claim it in a deep kiss. It’s consuming. His big tongue flattening against yours in maddening swipes, sucking the muscle sloppily into his own mouth making you lightheaded- blood rushing through your ears as he starts his hips up again, grinding away at that spot inside you but not quite as deep and he pulls away.

He watches you gasp desperately, moving not even an inch away from your face as he nips at your bottom lip, soothing the sting with his tongue before whispering inside your mouth- eyes glazed,

“Move that hand, baby.”

Your name might as well be Sunday morning cause that’s exactly how easy you are, body obeying him before you even tell it to. As soon as you do, he doesn’t waste a second, big hands hook underneath your knees- railing you stupid. He’s not even trying to think straight, caught up in in not just the heat but how tight- how creamy- you are. Letting out a string of swears, he captures your mouth in another overwhelming kiss, cock aching while he swallows your wails as you twitch and shake around him.

You can’t take anymore. Stack gives another harsh, slick roll of his pelvis into your swollen nub while battering that tender spot inside you and you’re coming. And Jesus Christ on a bike- you’re coming hard. Clawing at Stack’s beefy muscles, a swarm of stars completely eclipse your vision while you’re shocked with wave after wave of vicious pleasure. You’re so loud you struggle recognize your own voice but Stack’s is clear as the ecstasy pumping through your body. Filthy words of praise and encouragement directly in your ear, prolonging your orgasm.

“Thaaat’s it, dollface.. aalll over me…”

Tears spill from your eyes and you’re close to tapping out when Stack buries his head into your chest, taking one of your puffy nipples into his mouth, thrusts slowing as he shoots deep inside your heat with a muffled groan, stuffing your hole to the brim until he pops off your tit with a satisfied sigh.

You’re tired, your back is killing you, and your shaking like a baby deer but a grin makes its way onto your lips regardless as Stack kisses all over you, pulling out slowly, warm eyes checking over your form for any sign of discomfort while you bask in the coziness after, closing your eyes to enjoy a much needed break until he interrupts it. Kissing your cheek in that tender way he does when he’s fixing to look after you.

“You okay? Ain’t hurtin’ none?”

You shake you head, eyes closed even as he pats you dry gently with his shirt, tossing on the floor when he’s done. Less sweaty, it’s easier for you to nap but something was missing. Reaching up, your hand swipes though the air as you blindly reach for him, eventually catching his chain as you yank him down next to you with a soft pleased little hum. Yes, you’d sleep just fine now.

And when you wake up?

You’re face to face with a big rock on your finger.

Stay tuned for take 2, 3, 4 and more yall🤠🫶🏽!!!

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