blushandbleed

[blushandbleed]

Good boy

Pairing: Dominant Reader x Submissive Choso.

Tags: 18+, Age gap(20 + 32), Nsfw , Worship, Obedience, Power Play.

Art not mine!

Summary: You’ve always had a soft spot for younger men—especially when they’re eager, obedient, and a little bit desperate to prove themselves. Choso’s just the perfect mix of sweet and needy, and you’re going to enjoy every second of teaching him how to behave for you.

“You’re blushing,” you purred, tilting Choso’s chin up with two fingers as he sat stiffly on the couch, looking anywhere but at you.

“N-No, I’m not,” he stammered, though the furious pink creeping up his neck betrayed him completely.

You chuckled, slow and sultry, leaning forward just enough to let him catch a glimpse down your low-cut blouse. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.

“Don’t be shy, sweetheart.” You brushed your thumb over his bottom lip, savoring the way he shivered under your touch. “You’ve been following me around like a lost puppy for weeks now. Isn’t this what you wanted?”

His breath hitched. “I—yeah. I just—I didn’t think—”

“That I’d actually let you have me?” You leaned in, your lips ghosting against the shell of his ear. “You’re so cute. Thinking you’re the one who gets to decide how far this goes.”

His cock twitched, already straining against his pants, and you smirked against his skin. He was so easy to read—so responsive. You’d barely touched him and he was already falling apart.

“Take your clothes off,” you ordered softly, but there was no mistaking the command in your voice.

His eyes flicked up to you, wide and nervous, but the way he scrambled to obey made your stomach twist with satisfaction. He fumbled with his belt, his breathing ragged as he stripped down to nothing, his cock flushed and leaking, resting heavy against his thigh.

You let your gaze roam over him, unhurried, unapologetic. “Such a pretty boy,” you murmured, watching the way his muscles tensed under your praise. “You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you? About me. About what I’d do to you.”

His ears were red now, but he nodded quickly, his voice barely a whisper. “Yeah.”

“Yeah, what?”

His eyes flicked to yours, and something in your tone made him straighten instinctively. “Y-Yeah, ma’am.”

“Mmm. Good boy.”

The sound he made was nothing short of desperate. You climbed onto his lap, straddling him, letting your skirt ride up your thighs. His hands hovered at his sides, trembling, unsure if he was allowed to touch you.

“You want to touch me, don’t you?”

His nod was frantic. “Please.”

You cupped his face, tilting his head back, making him look at you. “Then ask me properly.”

“Please, ma’am,” he rasped, hips twitching helplessly beneath you. “Please let me touch you. Please let me be good for you.”

God, he was perfect.

You guided his hands to your waist, letting him explore your curves slowly, savoring the way his breath shuddered at every inch of exposed skin. His touch was reverent, like he thought you’d vanish if he moved too fast.

You rolled your hips against him, grinding slow and deliberate, and he whimpered—an honest-to-god whimper that shot straight to your core.

“You’re so sensitive,” you teased, rocking against his cock just enough to drive him mad. “Bet you won’t even last five minutes once I start riding you.”

His grip on your waist tightened, his head falling back against the couch. “I can—I can last—I’ll be good, I swear.” You kissed down his throat, your teeth grazing his pulse point as you whispered, “You don’t have to last, baby. You just have to make me cum first.”

You dragged the head of his cock through your folds, coating him in your slick before sinking down in one slow, deliberate stroke.

Choso’s hands shot up to grip your hips, his breath catching in his throat, eyes wide and glassy. “F-Fuck—”

“Language” you tsked, cupping his cheek again, forcing him to look at you as you started to move. “Good boys don’t curse when they’re getting fucked.”

“I’m sorry—m-ma’am—I—ah—” his sentences dissolved into broken moans as you rode him, slow and deep, making sure he felt every squeeze, every roll of your hips.

“You can cum when I say you can cum,” you murmured, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Not before. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You worked him relentlessly, savoring his desperation, his struggle to hold back, the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes from the sheer effort of pleasing you.

“You’re doing so well,” you praised, dragging your nails down his chest, leaving red marks in your wake. “Such a good boy for me.”

That was all it took to push him over the edge—his head tipped back, his whole body shuddered beneath you as he came hard, gasping your name like it was the only thing he knew.

But you didn’t stop.

You rode him through his orgasm, through the oversensitivity, through his desperate pleas until he was begging to be allowed to touch you, to make you cum, to prove he could be more than just a needy little boy in your lap.

You cupped his flushed cheeks, your hips still grinding against him. “Shh, baby. You’re not done until I’m done.”

And from the wrecked, blissed-out look on his face, you knew he’d let you ruin him as many times as you wanted.

Choso’s chest heaved under you, his body trembling from the force of his release, but you weren’t nearly satisfied yet. You rolled your hips slowly, grinding down on his oversensitive cock, your walls still pulsing around him, keeping him hard inside you whether he could handle it or not.

“Ma’am—please—it’s too much,” he whimpered, his voice shaking with raw desperation, his hands fluttering uselessly at your waist as if he was too afraid to push you away.

You cooed, dragging your nails up his ribs, savoring the way his muscles twitched under your touch. “Too much? You’re inside me, baby. Don’t you want to make me feel good?”

His head dropped forward against your chest, his breathing ragged. “I do- I do, I just- ah, fuck—” his cock twitched inside you, thick and still achingly hard despite how spent he looked. You smiled, sweet and cruel, threading your fingers into his hair and tugging just enough to make him look at you.

“You’re not done,” you whispered, licking the salt from his flushed skin. “Good boys can go again. Can’t you?” His eyes glazed over, dark and unfocused, lips parted as he nodded helplessly. “Y-Yes, ma’am.”

“That’s my sweet boy.”

You adjusted your pace, grinding deeper now, slow and torturously steady, pressing your hips down to keep him seated all the way inside. The overstimulation had him squirming, his hands trembling as he gripped your thighs like they were the only thing tethering him to this plane of existence.

“Ma’am, please,” he begged, tears beginning to gather at his lashes. “It’s so much—I’m gonna—gonna cum again—”

“Not yet,” you panted, your own pleasure building with each stroke. “You can hold it, can’t you? You’re strong, baby. Be good for me.”

His broken moan nearly undid you.

"Ma’am, I can’t—please—" his voice cracked, his body shivering under you as you continued to ride him, never once letting him fully retreat from the overwhelming sensations.

You leaned forward, your lips brushing against his ear. “If you cum without permission, I’ll edge you until you cry.”

The whimper he let out was positively sinful.

He buried his face in your chest, clinging to you like he might shatter if you let go, his entire body tensed, desperately clinging to the fragile thread of control you granted him.

“Say it,” you commanded, your own climax racing toward you now, the relentless grind of your hips driving you both to the edge. “Say you’re my good boy.”

“I’m—fuck—ma’am—I’m your good boy,” he gasped, his voice raw and soaked in need. “I’m yours—just yours—”

You slammed your hips down one final time, grinding hard against him as your release crashed over you, a delicious wave of heat that had you moaning his name, your walls clenching around him so tightly that he nearly sobbed.

“You can cum now,” you breathed, dragging your fingers through his sweat-damp hair. “Go on, baby. Show me how good you are.”

His entire body jerked as he spilled inside you, his groan muffled against your skin, his fingers bruising your hips as he emptied himself for the second time, barely able to breathe through the intensity of it.

You rocked against him lazily, coaxing him through the aftershocks, your fingers soothing along his spine.

“That’s it,” you whispered. “That’s my good boy.”

His trembling arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, clinging like you were his lifeline. His breath hitched against your chest, and you felt the faintest dampness of tears on your skin.

“Thank you,” he whispered, voice barely audible, wrecked and sincere. “Thank you, ma’am.”

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

“Oh, we’re not done yet,” you hummed, your voice syrupy sweet. “You still owe me at least one more, baby.”

And the way his cock twitched again inside you told you he was ready to be pushed even further.

[blushandbleed]

Never was just friendship

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Suguru Geto

Tags: 18+, smut, angst, emotional tension, forbidden love, ex bestfriends to lovers.

Art not mine!

Summary: It was supposed to be over. Gojo was supposed to kill him. Geto was supposed to stay gone. But when a cruel twist of fate forces them into a confrontation neither expected, old wounds resurface—along with desires they both buried a long time ago.

Gojo’s grip on Geto���s collar was tight, his breathing ragged as he slammed him against the wall, the weight of a hundred unsaid things pressing down on both of them.

“You should be dead,” Gojo snarled, but his hand didn’t move to finish the job. His other hand trembled at his side, knuckles whitening as though it took everything in him to not pull Geto closer.

Geto’s smirk was lazy, but his eyes flickered with something sharp. “And yet, here I am. Still haunting you.”

Gojo’s teeth ground together. “I should hate you.”

“You don’t.”

His cursed energy flared, fingers tightening in the fabric of Geto’s robes, dragging him impossibly closer. Their faces were inches apart now—too close, too dangerous, too familiar.

“Do you know how many times I thought about this?” Gojo hissed, his voice cracked at the edges, strained with restraint. “How many times I wanted to end you?”

“Tell me, Satoru,” Geto murmured, his voice like velvet wrapping around a dagger. “When you had your hand around my throat in those fantasies… were you trying to kill me or fuck me?”

Something inside Gojo snapped.

His mouth crashed onto Geto’s, brutal and bruising, years of suppressed feelings exploding in the violent kiss. He hated him. He wanted him. He always had.

Geto’s hand slid into Gojo’s hair, gripping the soft strands tight as their teeth clashed, tongues battling for control. Neither of them gave an inch. Neither wanted to.

Gojo’s blindfold was ripped off and discarded, his impossibly blue eyes blazing with something between lust and rage. “You think I forgot what you taste like?” he growled, biting at Geto’s lower lip hard enough to draw blood. “You think I haven’t missed this?”

His hands roamed down Geto’s body, shoving aside layers of his robes, desperate to feel skin under his fingertips. His palm splayed across Geto’s chest, nails dragging down his ribs, leaving angry red lines in their wake.

“You missed me?” Geto taunted, even as his breath stuttered when Gojo’s hand slipped lower, cupping him through the growing heat between his legs. “Could’ve fooled me when you tried to kill me.”

Gojo shoved his knee between Geto’s legs, grinding up against him with maddening pressure. “Oh, I’m still going to kill you,” he promised, his voice rough as he licked the blood from Geto’s lip. “But not before I make you fall apart for me first.”

Geto’s hiss of pleasure melted into a groan when Gojo’s hand slipped into his pants, his long fingers wrapping around him with a firm, practiced grip.

“Still the same,” Gojo whispered, pumping him slow but tight, savoring the way Geto’s head tipped back against the wall. “Still so responsive to me.”

Geto’s composure frayed with each stroke, each calculated twist of Gojo’s wrist.

“Fuck, Satoru—”

Hearing his name like that—guttural, needy—unlocked something feral in Gojo. “You’re not going to come until I say,” Gojo ordered, dragging his thumb over the leaking tip. “Say it.”

"Fuck you."

Gojo’s pace stuttered, a dark grin pulling at his lips. “Later.”

With his free hand, Gojo unzipped his pants, his cock aching, flushed, desperate for friction. He dragged Geto’s hand down to wrap around him, forcing him to stroke him in sync with his own pace.

“Touch me, Suguru. You owe me that much.”

Their foreheads pressed together, sweat beading on their skin, curses muttered between kisses that were more teeth than tongue.

“Say you missed me,” Gojo demanded, his breath hot against Geto’s lips. Geto’s fingers squeezed just a little tighter. “I fucking hate you.”

“You can hate me all you want,” Gojo groaned, rutting into Geto’s palm as his own hand worked him faster. “But you still fucking want me.”

Their strokes grew more frantic, more desperate, hips moving in a messy rhythm as both teetered on the edge. “Cum for me,” Gojo panted, his grip faltering as pleasure coiled tight in his core. “Cum with me.”

Geto bit back a groan, but his body betrayed him, his release spilling over Gojo’s hand just as Gojo buried his face in Geto’s neck, cumming hard with a shuddering breath.

They collapsed against each other, foreheads still pressed together, their pants mingling in the silence that followed.

Gojo’s thumb lazily brushed over Geto’s lip again, tracing the cut he’d made. “I should still kill you,” he whispered, but the venom was gone now. It sounded more like a plea than a threat.

Geto smirked faintly, brushing Gojo’s hair back. “Yeah. Maybe next time.” And they both knew there’d be a next time.

[blushandbleed]

Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Megumi Fushiguro x Fem!reader

Tags: 18+, smut, Nsfw, romance.

Art not mine!

His mouth was relentless— bruising kisses along your jaw, your throat, the sensitive skin just below your ear. You gasped when his hand slipped under your skirt, his fingertips ghosting along your inner thigh, teasing you, knowing exactly what he was doing.

"You're soaked," he muttered, his voice dark and disbelieving as he pressed the pads of his fingers against your heat through your underwear. "Were you this desperate for me the whole time?"

You hated how much you loved the way he said me—like the idea of anyone else touching you would be a personal offense.

"Don't flatter yourself," you shot back, even as your hips arched into his hand. "Must be a side effect of the adrenaline. Nothing special."

"Yeah?" His smirk was dangerous, fingers slipping past the fabric, sliding through your slick folds, slow and deliberate. "Funny. You feel pretty special to me."

Your sharp retort died on your tongue the moment he circled your clit with maddening precision, drawing small, lazy circles that made your legs tremble.

"Fuck—Megumi—" It was the first time you'd moaned his name like that. He noticed. His lips curled into a wicked grin against your skin. "Say that again."

"Not a chance."

But your resolve crumbled when he sank two fingers inside you, his pace fast and punishing, curling just right. You bit down on his shoulder, muffling a cry as your walls clenched around him.

His breathing was ragged, pupils blown wide with lust. "You’re already so close, aren’t you? I’ve barely even touched you." Your hands clawed at his jacket, tugging at the zipper with shaky fingers until it slid off his shoulders. “Stop talking like you’ve won.”

“Oh, I’ve won.” He withdrew his fingers, slowly, deliberately, and brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean with an obscene sound that made your knees weak. “I always win when it comes to you.”

You yanked him by the collar and crashed your lips against his, tasting yourself on his tongue, nipping hard enough to make him growl.

"Then shut up and fuck me already." That was all the permission he needed.

He spun you around, pressing you against the wall, your palms braced flat against the rough concrete as he tugged your panties to the side and freed himself from his pants in record time. You felt the blunt head of his cock press against your entrance, the heat of him sending a fresh wave of arousal pulsing through you.

"You're so fucking tight," he groaned as he pushed into you inch by inch, the stretch delicious and overwhelming. His hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise as he bottomed out, his breath shuddering against your shoulder. "Like your body’s been waiting for me."

"Don't give yourself that much credit—" your words broke into a sharp cry as he snapped his hips forward, setting a ruthless pace that sent shocks of pleasure rippling through you.

“Still talking?” he rasped, his hand snaking around to your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your head spin. “Thought I told you I’d make you beg.” You gasped, your walls fluttering around him, your resolve breaking under the delicious assault of his thrusts. "Please—"

His grip tightened ever so slightly. "Please what?"

"Please—don’t stop."

"That's more like it."

His rhythm faltered as your walls clamped down, your orgasm crashing into you hard and fast, your cries echoing in the narrow alley. He fucked you through it, chasing his own release, his breathing ragged as he spilled inside you with a guttural moan of your name.

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the sound of your panting breaths.

Slowly, he pulled out, adjusting his clothes with trembling hands. You turned to face him, your legs still barely holding you upright.

His eyes softened—just a flicker, but you caught it. “We’re not done.”

A cocky smirk tugged at your lips despite yourself. "Obviously. Next time I’m making you beg." His dark laugh sent a fresh pulse of heat through you. “We’ll see about that.”

[blushandbleed]

Whoever decided to make Vi just a bit buffer this season deserves a hot smooch on their face cuz i JUST realised the actual difference...

FORTICHE fs did the absolute best.