linalieana - Tumblr blog

linalieana · 1 month ago

Text

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

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

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

wc. 3.5k

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

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

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

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

some things just never fucking change.

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

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

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

nanami kento.

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

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

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

figures.

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

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

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

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

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

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

and he knows he should shut the door.

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

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

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

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

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

and you do.

because why the fuck not.

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

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

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

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

“what, no vodka shots?”

“i have better taste than that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

nanami chokes.

no, like actually chokes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“uh, i’m twenty, mind you.”

“that’s comforting.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you’re drunk.”

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

his jaw flexes.

visibly.

nanami’s voice drops lower, steadier.

“you’re my son’s girlfriend.”

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

“semantics,” he mutters.

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

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

you don’t.

his jaw ticks again— slow.

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

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

and uh,

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

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

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

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

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

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

like this is what he clocked out for.

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

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

and god, he’s drunk on it.

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

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

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

your jaw drops. nothing comes out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“atta girl.”

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

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

he’s just lost in it. in you.

completely, hopelessly enthralled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and then—

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

[incoming facetime: 🗑️]

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

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

red. wild-eyed. breathing heavy.

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

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

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

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

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

you tilt the phone. just enough.

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

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

you smiled wider. teeth flashing.

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

click.

call ended.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

just in time.

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

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

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

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

his voice cracked gentle now, worried.

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

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

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

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

16K notes · View notes

linalieana · 1 month ago

Text

fly on the wall sukuna x f!reader x gojo

synopsis: when your best friend leaves you alone at a party, someone else decides to take his spot

content warning: mdni, DUBCON, BABY TRAPPING, gojo is lowk yandere guys, angst and smut, modern college au, jealousy, drinking, frat parties, sukina being a manwhore, gojo is OBSESSED with you, backshots, unprotected piv sex, creampie, aftercare, pregnancy

"Wanna go find a bedroom?" A pretty giggle and a hand on his bulging bicep, lipstick stuck to his neck and staining his collar. His low laugh, deep and rough.

And none of it was belonged to you.

"Whatever," Sukuna grunted, letting some drunk girl with dyed hair drag him away while you watched from the corner of the couch, sipping on beer and wishing you had said no to coming with him to this stupid frat party.

He was your best friend - that you happened to be desperately in love with.

You weren't delusional. Didn't think him asking you here was a date. Just a way to celebrate your final semester at college, the last few weeks before graduation. But you'd kind of convinced yourself that with a little liquid courage, maybe you'd kiss him. Play it off like a drunk mistake if he hated it and just hope that he didn't.

Your last bits of hope dried up as he disappeared up the stairs.

That was just the way it went.

Sukuna fucked another girl the same way his scowl and chuckles fucked with your feelings. You were used to it after years of crushing and yearning uselessly after him.

You were too busy wallowing in your own self-loathing to notice the guy plopping down next to you on the couch.

"What kind of host would I be to let a pretty girl drink by herself?" A familiar voice leaned over to purr in your ear, poking your cheek just so you'd swat his hand away.

"I'm about to leave, Gojo," You lied, leaning over to set your drink down on his coffee table. A rich and relentless flirt who wasn't used to not getting his way. His parents could probably buy the university if they wanted to, a six-figure job just waiting for him the second he walked off stage with his degree next month.

Sukuna hated him. You were mostly indifferent. He was like a fly buzzing around, landing on you every time you forgot about him. They'd been in a couple fights though, over dumb boy shit, usually, playing the same sport and at all the same parties and clubs.

You were pretty sure any interest Gojo has in you was directly correlated to his desire to piss Sukuna off.

"I need a beer pong partner," He complained, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger.

"I'm sure there's fifty other girls here who'd be happy to," You rolled your eyes, about to push off the couch but forgetting his leg was there, accidentally grabbing his muscled thigh before you ripped your hand away.

"I don't want them," He pouted. "I want you."

The wrong guy felt a lot more like the right one when he was saying stuff like that.

You just wanted someone to like you.

"Fine, but just one game," You reluctantly agreed, gritting your teeth.

And you meant it, alright?

Except when you won, and he picked you up, spinning you around by your waist and peppering your cheeks with kisses while bragging about you to everyone listening about how good his girl was?

Whatever tethered you to your sensibility snapped and you kissed him back. Missing his cheek to plant a messy one on his lips.

And the next thing you knew, you were in his bedroom, your panties and your party dress ripped off, your face buried in a pillow as he delivered the meanest backshots you ever received, his cock slamming into your soaking cunt every three seconds when you stammered out his name.

"F-fuck, oh God, S'toru," You whined, your voice weak and muffled as his hips smacked into your ass again. Everything felt too warm inside, the pleasant fuzz in your chest from earlier turning into a blazing fire.

He abruptly pulled out, massive hands flipping you over, clumsily pushing your plush thighs up to your chest, admiring the connection between you when he shoved his thick cock back in, inch by inch disappearing into your heat.

"So pretty," He hummed, drawing little patterns you were too fucked out to process on your skin with his thumb. "All mine now, yeah?"

You weren't listening. Weren't even sure you were on the same planet anymore. Just lose in the haze of him thrusting inside you, the way his bright eyes held yours hostage, glittering even in the low lamp light, how his sweet cologne disarmed and enchanted you.

"Mhm," You nodded, vaguely aware the biggest dick at school has fucked you dumb on his own stupidly large cock, and not even able to bring yourself to despise it.

You just wanted more of him.

"You wanna be my girl?" He teased, one of his hands sliding down to paint the same patterns over your clit, barely sweeping over it just to make you jolt.

"Pl-please," You pleaded, face scrunching up and lips parting, unsure if you were begging him to make you cum or just make you his.

But he did both.

Massing your sore and needy bud with just enough pressure to push you over the edge, but this time, he was painting your cunt white, cumming right as you cried out, the distinct feeling of something warm and wet leaking down your thighs and onto his sheets before you even finished coming done.

He got up to clean you, his cock still pretty and pink and swollen as it bobbed with every step, cum and slick coating it as he hurried to grab a washcloth from the attached bathroom. He ran it under warm water, using it to wipe you up, throwing you some of his clothes, a t-shirt and some boxers that were too big before sliding on a pair too and crawling back in bed with you.

You were awkward, cautiously glancing back at him and blinking hard as you pulled his shirt over your head, not sure what other options you really had considering your dress was reduced to scraps in the heat of the moment.

But then he pulled you back against his chest, snuggling you against him like you were a couple and not just, well, whatever you actually were.

"Shouldn't you go back out there?" You mumbled, starting to pull away before his hand tightened on the back of your neck, keeping you in place with a pout.

"Nah," He dismissed. "I'd rather be here."

You didn't know why you stayed, other than the embarrassment of walking out in Gojo's clothes. You'd probably have to creep out in the morning, hoping everyone else was too wasted or hungover to notice, or get him to give you a ride. But that wasn't really an excuse for cuddling back with him, your leg thrown over his and your arms wrapped around his side. Dozing off on his soft mattress, his fingers dancing over your spine and tracing soft shapes soothing you to sleep.

Banging woke you up, someone pounding on his door.

It could've been thirty minutes or three hours, the party reduced to a dull hum in the background, huffing as you buried your face back against Gojo's warm chest.

"Open the fuck up," Sukuna's voice boomed through the door, his fist slamming against the wood veneer like he was hoping to splinter it.

Your blood ran cold.

Gojo was already awake, a crooked smile spreading across his face while he listened to Sukuna shouting your name from the hall.

"Go back to sleep, baby," He murmured softly to you, pressing a kiss to your forehead before untangling your limbs.

He didn't cover you with a blanket though.

You wondered if he wanted Sukuna to see what you looked like wearing his clothes.

You rolled away from the door, pressing your face to the pillow so you wouldn't have to know what sort of face Sukuna made when he found out you betrayed him.

"What's up, man?" Gojo casually greeted, the door swinging open with a creak after he flipped the lock.

"What the fuck-" Sukuna's harsh voice stopped the second he saw you in the bed, curled up in Gojo's shirt and (pretending to be) asleep.

"Is there a problem?" He wryly taunted, and you could just picture his face, the glint in his eyes and the way his white brow would arch up.

"I'll fucking kill you," Sukuna growled.

"Can it wait until tomorrow? Don't wanna wake sleeping beauty up," Gojo mocked.

He didn't wait for Sukuna to reply before slamming the door shut in his face.

You didn't say anything. Just let him pull you back against him. And when you woke up the next morning? He had fresh clothes and breakfast delivered, letting you eat in his bed and insisting he'd have to wash everything anyway.

"Wanna go on a date today?' He asked while you were using his shower, peeking his head through the curtain with an easy smile.

"What?" You blinked, trying to work out if this was just also part of his plan to get back at Sukuna or if he was serious.

"I was thinking the zoo, or maybe that new bakery that opened up?" He proceeded to throw out options like you'd already said yes, and somehow, you found yourself in the passenger seat of his car two hours later with his hand on your thigh and his chatter in your ears about what souvenir he was going to buy you.

Pretending not to feel the weight of your phone in your pocket, switched to do not disturb so you wouldn't have to deal with the hundred texts and calls from Sukuna about you sleeping with the enemy.

Part of you wondered if there wouldn't be any, if he'd just discard and be done with you entirely now.

But when Gojo was grinning and laughing with you, when he touched you and planted kisses all over your skin, you were starting to think it might be a trade worth making.

Except, uh, after a few weeks of the honeymoon period passed and the day your period was supposed to start came and went with it, and a pregnancy test confirmed what you dreaded.

Fuck.

It wasn't until you told him the next day with tears in your eyes that you realized there might be something worse than him not wanting your baby. It was the possibility he planned for it.

"I'm really gonna be a dad?" He grinned, no what-are-we-gonna-do, no how-did-this-happen, not an ounce of regret.

"Satoru, can you be serious for two seconds? This is a big deal," You scolded, but he was already placing your hand on your stomach.

"I am serious," He teased, drawing a heart over our belly button this time. "I'll take care of you and our baby. You wanna tell my parents first? Or should we get eloped?"

You were wrong. He wasn't a fly.

He was a spider.

And you were just the unfortunate bug wrapped up tight in his web.

6K notes · View notes

linalieana · 2 months ago

Text

🕊️ Please Take a Moment to Read Nadin’s Story

My name is Nadin. I never imagined I would write something like this. I’ve always been someone who kept her worries quiet, someone who believed that even the hardest days could be endured with patience and faith. But right now, I am reaching out — not because I want to, but because I need to.

I am a wife, a mother, and one of many women in Gaza trying to survive days that feel like they have no end. There was a short time — a brief ceasefire — where we thought things might start to heal. Where the sound of war faded for just long enough to let us breathe. But that moment is gone now, and the fear has returned louder than before.

My days are filled with uncertainty, and my nights with prayer. We have lost so much. Our home was damaged, our sense of safety taken from us. But through all of this, I try to keep going. I try to hold on to what little peace I can create with my hands, my words, and my love.

I am not asking for much. Just a little help to keep our lives from falling further apart. To fix the small things — a cracked wall, a leaking roof, the pieces of daily life that help us hold on to dignity.

This campaign isn’t just about survival. It’s about holding on to what makes us human in a place that keeps trying to take that away. It’s about showing my daughter — even though I won’t mention her name here — that the world didn’t forget us.

If you’ve ever felt powerless in the face of suffering, please know that even the smallest gesture can carry great meaning. A kind word. A shared post. A quiet donation. These things remind us that we’re not alone.

I am still here. Still holding on. Still believing that people out there — people like you — still care.

Please, if you feel moved, consider supporting or sharing this campaign.

13K notes · View notes

linalieana · 2 months ago

Note

Hi there,

I’m reaching out with a quiet hope in my heart. These days are heavy, and my family is living through a reality filled with uncertainty—but I’m still here, doing my best to hold on and keep going.

If you have a moment, please check out my pinned post.

A simple share could help it reach someone who might be able to make a difference.

If you’re able to give, even the smallest kindness can bring light into the darkest places.

Your time, your voice, your compassion — it all matters more than you know.

With deep gratitude,

@nadinfamily

Hi Nadin!

Thank you for sharing this—it takes courage to speak from the heart. I see you, and I’m sending strength your way. I’ll check out and share your post. You’re not alone—keep going, even small steps matter.

#haikyuu x reader #jjk x reader #tokyo revengers #haikyuu #tokyo revengers x reader #bnha x reader #aot x reader #awareness post

4 notes · View notes

linalieana · 2 months ago

Text

“me time” and it’s just lay in bed reading fanfiction for hours

4K notes · View notes

linalieana · 3 months ago

Text

one. two. three. four. five.

A groan escaped your lips as you clutched your head. What the hell happened last night?

You woke up feeling absolutely terrible. Your head was pounding, your throat felt like sandpaper, and your entire body ached as if you’d been hit by a truck.

The taste of alcohol still lingered on your tongue as fragments of memories came back in your mind.

That voice—low, rough, and unmistakable.

“Tell me you don’t feel the same.”

Your breath hitched.

Oh.

You squeezed your eyes shut as more pieces of the night fell into place. Sukuna. His gaze locking onto yours, intense and unwavering. The weight of his words settling heavily between you.

“I want you.”

You remember passing out in his arms. The memory struck like a jolt of lightning, cutting through the haze of your hangover.

Your throat tightened. How were you supposed to face him after that?

Before you could spiral any further, another wave of nausea hit and you stumbled to get out of bed. The world tilted dangerously as you made your way to the bathroom, vomiting the contents of last night’s bad decisions.

By the time you managed to make it downstairs, the dizziness had only worsened. The lights to the kitchen were on, and that could only mean one thing. Your stomach twisted as you slowly turned your head—and there he was.

Sukuna.

Unlike you, he looked completely fine, leaning against the counter with a mug in his hands. Before you could even open your mouth, he glanced up and immediately scowled.

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks.” you croaked, your voice barely audible. “Do we have any medicine?”

His frown deepened, and you saw something flickered in his gaze. Concern?

Before you could make sense of it, your legs gave out.

You barely registered the moment Sukuna closed the distance between you, catching you before you could hit the floor. Strong, steady arms wrapped around your waist, holding you up with ease.

“Fuck, how much did you drink last night?” His voice was lower now, softer. It felt almost… worried.

“I’m fine.” You tried to protest, but even speaking hurt.

“Shut up and let me help you.” he muttered, scooping you into his arms as if you weighed nothing.

Your hangover must’ve been worse than you thought, because you didn’t even have the strength to argue.

He sets you down on the sofa and quickly wrapped a blanket on your body. As you drifted in and out of sleep, a cool cloth was pressed against your forehead, the quiet sound of a chair scraping against the floor as he moved around to get you some water and medicine.

It wasn’t like him.

You were so used to Sukuna’s was harsh words and teasing insults that his lingering stares left your head spinning for reasons entirely unrelated to hangover.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” you mumbled, when you woke up fully.

Sukuna was sitting at the edge of the sofa. His hands that moved to fix the blanket with unexpected care, hesitated.

His crimson eyes flickered to yours with an unreadable look beneath them. Then, with a quiet sigh, he leaned back and ran a hand through his hair.

“You don’t remember, do you?” he asked.

You remembered enough. Enough to know that whatever had happened between you two last night wasn’t a drunken misunderstanding.

Sukuna’s confession. His words, sharp yet desperate. The way your heart had pounded in your chest as you listened to every word.

You looked away, gripping the blanket tighter around you. “I—I do. I just… I don’t know what you expect me to say.”

Sukuna exhaled, his voice was steady and unwavering. “I like you. And I know you feel something too.”

You swallowed hard, a thousand thoughts racing through your head. “It’s not that simple, Sukuna.”

His gaze darkened. “Why not?”

You hesitated. “Yuuji wouldn’t approve. You know that.”

Sukuna scoffed and shook his head. “Since when do you care what he thinks?”

“I don’t—” You stopped yourself. “I just… I don’t want things to get messy. Your brother offered me a hand when I needed it the most, I don’t want to go behind his back and fuck his older brother.”

Technically, it was him that helped you because it was his house after all.

Sukuna leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Things are already messy,” he said, voice quieter now. “And I don’t care what anyone thinks, least of all my brother.” His eyes locked onto yours, intense and unwavering. “Yuuji knows I care about you.”

Your breath hitched. The room suddenly felt too small, too warm.

“Sukuna—”

“I know I was an asshole to you when we met. Maybe you think this is a joke and you don’t trust me, but I’m really serious about you.” he interrupted, his tone softer. “I don’t deserve it, but I’m asking you to give me a chance.”

You looked at him, really looked at him. There was no teasing smirk, no mocking glint in his eyes. Just him, raw and sincere in a way you’d never seen before.

And maybe that was the most terrifying part.

A long silence stretched between you. Then, slowly, hesitantly, you reached for his hand.

“Okay.”

Sukuna’s eyes darkened the moment your fingers brushed against his. His fingers curled around yours instantly, warm and solid. His grip tightened just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“Okay, huh?” he murmured, voice low and taunting. “Just an okay?”

Your throat went dry as he leaned in, the heat of his body dangerously close.

“Sukuna—” You tried to sound firm, but it came out more like a breathless whisper.

He smirked. He knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“You’re hesitating…” he breathed, his fingers grazing over your wrist, trailing up your arm, slow and deliberate. “But your body? It’s telling me something else.”

You sucked in a sharp breath as his thumb brushed against your pulse, feeling the way it pounded beneath his touch.

“Great, cocky Sukuna is back.” you mumbled but didn’t pull away.

His grin widened. “You love it.”

Before you could protest, he shifted even closer, his lips a breath away from your ear.

“I meant what I said last night.” His voice was a husky murmur against your skin. “And I’ll say it again, sober.”

You felt his fingers trace along your jaw, tilting your chin up until you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

“I want you. Do you want me too?” he teased, his lips just barely ghosting over yours.

Your heart hammered in your chest, every nerve in your body screaming at you to close the distance.

The way his eyes burned into yours, the way his grip on you was both possessive and impossibly gentle.

Fuck what happens next—you didn’t care anymore.

Instead of answering, you grabbed the front of his shirt and crashed your lips against his.

Sukuna groaned, deep and guttural, before yanking you into his lap without hesitation. His hands were rough as they gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him, swallowing your gasp as he deepened the kiss.

It was messy, feverish, filled with so much need. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, making you shudder as you tangled your fingers into his hair.

When you finally pulled back for air, his tongue chased yours lips, not letting you go.

Your body felt like it was burning and Sukuna’s smirk was downright sinful when he finally lets you go. “Now that’s more like it.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore how breathless you were. “Shut up.”

His fingers tightened on your hips, dragging you just a little closer. “Make me.”

And, god help him—

You did.

——————————————————————

taglist: @emyyy007 @thebumbqueen @domainofmarie @cheriiepies @jumpinjaxx @mothstvrnz @grveyrd4 @tojisbabymommasblog @realalpacorn @starriesworlds @go-go-gadget-autism @ieathairs @oidloid @krispywhisperswhispers @satorupied @zeunys @chosos-prettyprincess @trsh-kitty @seellove @xlilycoco @chososlvr @7haze @charlie-xo @kunascutie @chiizuyu @aldebrana @bnbaochauuu @junitries @kaidostwin @grignardsreagent

561 notes · View notes

linalieana · 3 months ago

Text

“She’s my type! (homicidal)”

synopsis. deadpool!gojo pushes you till you break (him)

content warnings. semi-proofread, fem!reader, gojo’s annoying, blowjobs in an alley, oral f!receiving, car sex, hate-fucking(?), she hates him and he loves that, cumming early, dirty talk, cowgirl, gojo whines gojo whimpers gojo cums, seriously he cums a concerning amount of times, overstimming gojo, dumbification (him), lots of male crying, he calls reader mommy, threats of murder/killing, descriptions of intended violence

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Deadpool!Gojo is the bane of your existence, constantly annoying you with his smartass jabs, perverted comments, and terrible jokes.

Deadpool!Gojo hears the words “Fuck off, Gojo” at least 7 times daily from any given person, especially you.

Deadpool!Gojo turns off Infinity around you. He wants to feel your touch even if it’s just a shoulder graze or a punch to the face (the latter is a daily occurrence).

Deadpool!Gojo punches the air in triumph when he finds out he’s been assigned a mission with you, sprinting through the halls of the X Mansion straight to your room and bursting in.

“Heyyyyy, partner,” he sings as he skips into the room and over to your bed, flopping down on it like a child, “Ready to fuck up some bad guys?”

You groan, like you’d been doing a lot that day, ever since you found out the Infinity-wielding pain in the ass would be your mission partner. “Just my luck. Fuck me,” you mutter, packing your gear.

Lying on his stomach, he props his face in his palms, feet kicking in the air, “Oh, trust me, pumpkin. I’ve been trying. But let’s save that for after the mission, hm?” Even through his mask, you could practically hear his annoying smirk.

“Although since you brought it up,” he continues, not letting your clear disinterest deter him, “Maybe we could sneak in a quickie before the ball-busting begins? Pre-fight sex helps me focus. Specifically, doggystyle— backshots are great for an ass-kicking mindset. Cleanses the soul. Realigns the chakras n’ all that good shit. It’s science. Look it up. P-O-R-N-H-U—”

You shoot him a venomous glare that screamed, “Shut. Up.”

He immediately holds up his hands in mock surrender, chuckling sheepishly, “Or don’t. You’re right, saving it for after is smarter. Sort of a celebratory homecoming. Speaking of cumming—“

Your fist cuts that comment short, meeting his face with a satisfying crack!

Deadpool!Gojo stares unabashedly at your ass while scaling the side of a building, even throwing in an “awooga,” much to your disgust.

Deadpool!Gojo doesn’t let a time-sensitive situation like you defusing a bomb stop his sardonic commentary.

The room is silent, save for the periodic beeping of the contraption in front of you. You sit hunched over the deadly-looking device, sweat creeping on your brow, trembling fingers clutching the wire-cutter, “Red or blue?”

The white-haired mercenary lounges nearby, doing nothing to help, “You ever think about how turtles could be doing more for this country?”

“Red or blue wire, Gojo.”

“I mean, they come with their own armor! But those weird little fuckers just choose to chill in a lake all day.”

“I swear to god—“

“Imagine the damage you could do if you chucked one of ‘em at the enemy’s head, shell first.”

You grit your teeth, “They’d die. Just tell me the color.”

“The enemy or the turtle?” He shrugs, “Eh, doesn’t matter. Point is, we underestimate those green snails. Didn’t one of them paint the Sixteenth Chapel?”

“It’s Sistine, and that was Michelangelo.”

“Exactly.”

Your jaw muscles tense with barely-restrained frustration. You open your mouth to retort before you decided the device, whose timer had jumped from three minutes to one, needed your attention more.

“Here, let me help—“ he starts.

“You can help by shutting the fuck up.“

“Ooh, someone’s cranky. Is it the bomb? It’s the bomb, isn’t it?”

“It’s you, actually,” you hiss, jittery hands held over the red wire.

He throws a hand over his chest and mock-gasps, “I resent that! I’m plenty helpful—”

You whip around, grabbing his collar and slamming him into the nearby wall, the wire-cutter now hovering dangerously over his crotch. You let it close slightly, the metal jaws just barely touching him, eliciting a low moan from him— half from pain, half from something else.

A low, menacing growl leaves your mouth, tone dripping with threat, “One more word and you lose a testicle.”

“…hot.”

And then you punched him in the face again.

(You do end up defusing the bomb, with seconds to spare at that, no thanks to him.)

Deadpool!Gojo compromises your stealth when he leans against a very obvious “CALL SECURITY” button.

Alarms blare, red lights flash, and within seconds, a swarm of armed men flood the room.

He rubs the back of his neck with a sheepish look, “Oops…? Hehe.”

Fucking idiot. You contemplate feeding him to the enemy.

Deadpool!Gojo relies on his katanas and martial arts more than Infinity or other powers in battle—purely to impress you. He swings dramatically, flips unnecessarily, flexing his “raw skills.” It’s like he’s performing rather than fighting.

Mid-battle, covered in blood (not his), he frantically waved at you, “Y/N! Did ya see the finishing move I pulled on that guy? Fuckin’ sick, huh?!”

You do not respond. He pouts.

Deadpool!Gojo wolf-whistles when he sees you nail a villain with a kick to the nuts.

“Ngh- oh yeah, me next.” he likes CBT for sure

You nearly drop your weapon, “What in the fuck—“

Deadpool!Gojo takes the time for a dance break, mid-fight.

“I’m Every Woman” blares through the speaker system— when the hell did he get control of the comms— as he full-on belts the song, complete with hair flips and hip swings. (songs also on that playlist: tell it to my heart by t. dayne, wannabe by spice girls, 10 minutes by lee hyori, baby one more time by b. spears, love don’t cost a thing by j. lopez)

You seethe, yelling from a far corner as you take down another guard, “GOJO, TURN THAT SHIT OFF OR SO HELP ME, I WILL RIP OFF YOUR DICK AND FEED IT TO YOU!”

He loudly moans from under his mask, “Hngh- oh yeah, keep talking about my dick, babe— I’m nearly there—”

Deadpool!Gojo is smug as hell after knocking out a final thug that had you in a headlock.

He drawls, self-satisfied, and points finger guns at you, “You’re welcome. I’ll take my thank you blowjob now.” To which you give him a murderous scowl.

Deadpool!Gojo makes it so you both have to abort the mission to escape. Turns out pressing a “CALL SECURITY” button brings, well, security. A fuck ton of it.

“If we survive this… pant… I’m strangling you with your own mask,” you snarled, sprinting alongside him, dodging bullets and hellfire.

“Aw, babe, you’re so cute when you wanna kill me,” he pulls up his mask to flash you a grin.

You punch him a third time, mid-run.

At Sister Margaret’s, Deadpool!Gojo watches you dejectedly explain to the team how you fled enemy territory empty-handed.

Deadpool!Gojo then pulls the very item you were after out of nowhere, revealing dramatically that he’d pocketed it when you were busy fighting. (vague ass mission, pretend “item” is sumn important pls)

He doesn’t miss your fuming face in the crowd— but pretends to.

Should he have said something to spare you the frustration? Probably.

Was his way more fun? Definitely.

Deadpool!Gojo has an innocent look but is internally giggling he’s dragged him by the collar to the alley behind the bar.

“Woah, easy with the threads, sugarplum. This stuff’s custom-made.”

“You absolute pain in my ass,” you growl, yanking his mask off to reveal his annoyingly attractive face.

His piercing blues glinted with mischief, a smirk playing at his lips, “Oh, sweetheart. if you wanted me in your ass, you could’ve just asked—“

“You had the artifact THE WHOLE TIME?!”

“Oh! Great twist, right? Did you see their faces? They were all ‘omg gojo! gojo’s so smart and cool, we love him! he deserves several blowjobs as thank you! and I volunteer to be first! no, I volunteer. no I voluntee—‘“

“SHUT. UP! You made me think we FAILED, asshole! You humiliated me in front of everyone, you insufferable, selfish, reckless, piece of—“

“Oh sweet, I love a good hate-fuck prelude.”

You surge forward, crashing your lips against his, effectively silencing whatever bullshit would leave his mouth next.

Deadpool!Gojo is speechless when he suddenly finds you on your knees, his cock halfway down your throat, and has to physically fight from cumming too quickly—your loud, wet sucks and gags not helping the fight at all.

Deadpool!Gojo has extreeemely sensitive balls and is a congenital yapper. Not a good combo for when the person sucking his dick is also someone who thinks of ripping out his larynx every time he opens his mouth.

He groans, letting his head fall back against the brick wall, fingers fisting in your hair for support. True to his nature, he tries and fails to keep composure with sarcastic quips, “Ah, there’s my thank you blowjob. Cuz’ I was beginning to wonder— ngh!”

He doubles over with a choked gasp, his cock jerking in your mouth when he feels your teeth graze the sensitive vein along the underside—deliberate and warning. The message in your eyes was crystal clear: Shut up or I will bite.

And he wisely obliged. For about ten seconds before—

“If you’re hah- trying to get me to ngh- apologize for the mission, you sure picked a hnghh- h-hell of a way, babe. s-shit- i did technically save your ass, y’know- oh wait no- not the balls- they’re sensitive- seriously, anything but the balls- wait wait don’t— fuck! shit! fuckshitfuckshitfuuuuuuckkkkk!”

He spills down your throat embarrassingly fast, his chest heaving, throat catching on a half-choked moan, “Ah- hah- t-t-told you- *cough*—“

But it’s fine because the sight of you gulping down every drop of his cum has him immediately hard again.

Deadpool!Gojo eats you out like a man starved— on his knees in the back of your Honda Odyssey, of all places.

Not that he’s complaining. He’s quite happy to be suffocating between your thighs, his nose buried deep in your pussy folds, licking and slurping like it’s his last meal. (mf the type to go “nom nom” or “gobble gobble” or sum shit while eating kitty)

The most pathetic whimpers and mewls leave him as he aches to touch his cock, which is dripping leaky faucet, globules of precum bubbling at the tip, but he can’t— courtesy of you tying his hands behind his back.

He’s also a messy eater, slobbering and drooling all over your clit like a rabid animal. At one point, he tries to motorboat your pussy, the man is unhinged.

And somehow, even with a mouth full of pussy, he’s still.

fucking.

talking.

“Mmh- fuck you taste so sweet- *lick* pussy’s so delicious- *suck* could eat you all night- mmmh- shit you gettin’ close? yeah yeah cum for me, baby- cum on my tongue, pretty please? squirt all over my face with this pretty lil cunny- mmh pleas—“

You cringe. Christ, his dirty talk sucks. You’ll have to fix that for next time—

Next time? Why the hell were you thinking of a next time?

On the brink of orgasm, you tighten your grip in his hair, yanking hard enough to make him groan, “God- ngh- do you ever stop talking?”

In frustration, you forcefully buck into his mouth, hoping to shut him up. Jokes on you though. That just made him cum.

Hands-free.

Just from eating you out.

He shudders, a choked moan ripping from his throat as hot, thick ropes of cum shoot out onto the backseat carpet.

He doesn’t let up, however, making sure to take you over the edge with him, tongue-fucking you through your high and his own. Your gasps and moans are sweet music to his ears, your clit pulsing against his tongue as you drench his face.

And still, he doesn’t stop. He slurps up your juices, his tongue invading every crevice of your cunt, greedy for every last saccharine drop.

God, he fucking loves your pussy.

Deadpool!Gojo cries and whines like a bitch while you ride him into oblivion.

His blue eyes are locked onto your bouncing tits, pupils blown wide in awe. He’s drooling, hands roaming aimlessly—gripping your love handles, palming your ass, cupping your breasts—unable to decide where to settle.

God, he wishes he had more hands.

Your pussy is heaven to him. Hot, wet walls squeeze his cock like they were made to ruin him. It’s so good, so unbelievably good, his vision blurs with tears.

You’re so fucking beautiful.

So so so beautiful…

THWOP!

And so fucking cruel.

THWOP!

You slam down on his cock with a cruel force, the skin of your ass slapping against his thighs.

THWOP! THWOP!

The lewd schlick-schlick’s of your pussy swallowing him echoes in his ears, mingling with his breathless, broken moans.

He’d be well past his fifth orgasm by now—if you weren’t such a sadistic, heartless bitch who hates happiness.

…his words.

Because for the past hour or so, you’ve been fucking him like his dick owes you money, always stopping right as he’s about to cum.

Like right now.

You hover over his swollen tip, eyeing him smugly. He’s a mess. Flushed cheeks, damp lashes, glassy azure eyes pleading up at you.

Oh, but the real sight is what’s below— his cock twitches desperately, every individual vein begging for friction. His balls? Overloaded. Heavy. Drawn tight. Concerningly big. How the fuck he still have cum left to give?

Gojo swears you hold his life in your hands. If you didn’t let him cum right now, he’s pretty sure he’ll die.

Pride shattered and dignity obliterated, he wails, voice cracking, “Hnghhh- fuck- OKAY! ALRIGHT! I’M SORRY! I’m sorry about the artifact! I thought you’d think it was cool—I was wrong! I’m sorry for humiliating you, I’m sorry I’m a dumb fucking cock-for-brains idiot who only thinks with his dick— IMSORRYIMSORRYIMSORRYIMFUCKINGSORRYYYY!!!”

His hips desperately rut upward, chasing the last bit of movement he needs to finally, finally cum. “Now please! Let me cum! I need to cum! I NEED TO CUM! PLEASE LET ME CUM! PLEASE, MOMMYYYY!”

You paused.

…did he just say Mommy?

Oh, he is gone.

You mentally file this moment away— prime blackmail material for the next time he gets smart with you.

For now, you’re content. You got what you wanted: an apology from the Merc with a Mouth and the pleasure of watching him fall apart.

A Cheshire grin curling your lips, you give a single, permitting nod—then slam down onto his cock, hard.

Gojo damn near ascends.

Deadpool!Gojo moans like a girl when he cums in the loudest, sluttiest, most pornographic way.

His eyes roll back, mouth falling open. His entire body convulses, back arching off the car seat, muscles locking up as the orgasm annihilates him.

He cums harder than he ever had, the air ripping from his lungs as he shoots his creamiest load yet. His cock pulses with every desperate burst of sticky, gooey seed—your gummy pink walls now sprayed white. His abs flex violently, spent, while your greedy pussy yanks him deeper, intent on milking him dry.

And then, the worst thing happens.

You keep moving.

Deadpool!Gojo pleads with you to stop fucking him, fully sobbing through the overstimulation.

It’s too much. His nerves are fried, he’s slowly going stupid. Hell, he just might be already. His cock is helplessly quivering inside you and his whole body’s shaking. Pearly tears slip down his cheeks as he begs you to stop moving on his cock.

“P-please—please! t-there’s n-nothing l-left! i c-can’t c-cum a-anymore! i-i’m f-fucking e-empty! i’m fucking shooting blanks! i-i’m begging, please don’t m-make me c-cum again! I’ll break- I’LL BREAKKKKK!!”

He chokes on a sob before his cock pitifully spurts out another empty load.

Having had your fill of his miserable begging, you generously oblige. You dismount, lazily glancing back at the wonderful mess you made.

Deadpool!Gojo is left ruined, utterly destroyed after you’re done with him.

His head lolls to the side, tongue hanging out, drooling as he stares at nothing. His limbs shudder weakly, his cock now soft and limp, still giving the occasional pathetic shiver.

A stupid, cum-drunk grin stretches across his face as he meaninglessly babbles like an idiot, “c-cum… c-came… s’ m-much… ah… can’t f-feel my d-dick… love it… t-thank you…“

Gone is the bravado of the cocky, sharp-mouthed antihero.

Lying there, wrecked beneath you, is your broken little bitch—Satoru Gojo aka Deadpool.

a/n. women bullying men during sex>>> originally wrote this with hawks from mha in mind then realized he n gojo are the same person in different fonts. it was tough writing this tbh cuz i had to balance both personalities. i still think he ended up more gojo than dp anyway sighhh. i hope people like it and if you don’t, that’s ok but please be kind :)

3K notes · View notes