ndgshsns

[ndgshsns]

i do not play about the ocean that’s my mother you’re talking about

[ndgshsns]

Ate her out

[ndgshsns]

help

[ndgshsns]

need to put my head in a pretty femme’s lap so she can coo at me and pet my hair and tell me everything’s gonna be ok

[ndgshsns]

[ndgshsns]

y/n when she realize she gotta be in 101 places at once to get her cheeks clapped every hour if not minute.

[ndgshsns]

18+ mdni

that reality check hitting after reading smut

[ndgshsns]

Addict in full bloom

Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

• MDNI!! (18+)

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧. 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

Bakugou had never had a real girlfriend before you. Sure, he’d kissed a few girls, gotten a handjob or two—hell, maybe even gone down on someone once—but sex? That was something he never cared to try. Not until you.

The moment he finally had you, it was over. Katsuki was insatiable. Obsessed. A damn addict. If he wasn’t thinking about touching you, he was already doing it. Sneaking into your dorm when everyone else was asleep just to have you, only to wake you up hours later for another round before first period. He didn’t give a damn if you were tired—his hands were already pulling you close, lips pressing against your ear as he growled something filthy about how much he needed you.

Study sessions? Yeah, those were a joke. He’d start with his books open, acting like he gave a shit, but the second you leaned in too close or bit your lip in concentration, they were forgotten. Before you knew it, he had you bent over the desk, one hand gripping your hip, the other covering your mouth to muffle your moans.

Skipping training? It started as an accident—one missed session because he was too busy pinning you to his bed, your fingers tangled in his hair as he lost himself in you. Then once turned into twice, and before he knew it, he was making excuses to Kirishima, shrugging off practice like it wasn’t a big deal. After all, he had a new favorite way to work up a sweat.

And in between classes? During lunch? If he could find an empty space—an unused classroom, a janitor’s closet, even the back of the school building—he was taking advantage of it. It didn’t matter if you whined about getting caught, he’d just smirk, pressing you against the wall and murmuring,

“Then you better keep quiet, sweetheart.”

He never thought he’d be this desperate for someone. This hungry. This fucking gone. But you? You turned him into something unrecognizable—something downright feral. A fucking addict.

[ndgshsns]

i wanna do girly shit with mina while we're both topless :(

[ndgshsns]

icky kirimina thoughts…☆

mina holding you against her soft chest as her hands keep your legs parted for eijirou. you’re probably crying by now and she’s probably whispering about how good you’re doing as eijirou slides that monster of a cock in and out of your poor cunt. he’s going so slow, in a trance at the sight of one of mina’s pretty hands coming between them to circle your clit.

“s’too much-“

“awe but look how well you’re taking him.”

fruit bats: @neon-gothicc @bakubunny @bookcluberror @kunigamisgirl @dizazter-dragoon @jazzafayesworld @cherriluvs35 @dreamcastgirl99 @pastelbakugou

[ndgshsns]

Forgive me for I am down horrendous and very unwell

Making Toji ride your thigh and not even lifting a finger to help him get off. It feels so good but it's just not enough for him :((

He can't handle it so he cries into your shoulder and bites down to ground himself.

Oh the joy of making the famous sorcerer killer crumble so easily

HARGHHSHDH he’s so hot when he’s needy…

would be even more humiliating for him if you’re doing something else while he does that, like reading a book or scrolling through your phone. you could even be doing nothing in particular, as long as you’re not paying an ounce of attention to him. it makes him feel shameless as he continues humping your thigh like a bitch.

the only reactions he’d get out of you would be when he bit you, hearing you hiss in pain and tug his hair back with force. he almost came, he would’ve came if his hips hadn’t stuttered out of surprise. instead, all you get is a needy whine, maybe a bit more if you’d leaned forward, licking up the column of his neck

[ndgshsns]

Hi lovely! Can I request Reader suddenly finding out Katsuki liked to be degraded, like maybe she jokingly calls him a “slut” and sees how he’s affected, so she tries to be mean to him in bed and he is waaay into it (if you’re comfortable of course)

Good Boy Gone Bad

You don’t mean to say it.

It slips out between panting breaths, between the messy kisses and the way his hands are gripping your hips like he’s trying to leave bruises there. Katsuki has you pressed into the mattress, arms caging you in, his lips moving hot and frantic against yours, and it’s got your head all fuzzy, drunk on him, on the way he’s all over you.

And then, when he grinds down, rutting against you like he needs it, like he’d die if he didn’t—

It just comes out.

"Fuck, you’re such a slut."

It’s supposed to be a joke. A teasing little quip to match the desperate way he’s moving against you, to call him out for how shameless he is right now.

But then—

Katsuki freezes.

Not in the usual way when he’s about to snap at you, no livid glare or oi, what the fuck? Instead, his breath catches in his throat, and for a second, his whole body goes taut, like he’s just been struck by lightning. His grip on your hips tightens, his head drops forward, and then—

He groans.

Low. Guttural.

Like he liked it.

You blink, staring up at him, the realization dawning slow but heavy. You watch the way his ears turn pink, how his breath comes out shakier than before.

Oh.

Oh, this is interesting.

“Wait a second,” you breathe, your lips stretching into a wicked little grin. You press a hand to his chest to push him up just enough to look at him properly. "Did you just—?"

"Shut the fuck up," Katsuki snaps, but his voice is all wrong—rough, weak, like you caught him in the middle of something dirty. His eyes dart away, and he looks like he regrets everything.

You laugh. You can’t help it.

“Oh my god.” Your grin widens. “You like that.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You so do.”

“Shut the fuck up, I don’t—”

“You totally do,” you coo, your hands sliding up his arms, then curling around his jaw, forcing him to look at you. “You like being called a slut, don’t you?”

His jaw clenches.

You watch his throat work as he swallows thickly, his breath shaky, his hands still gripping your hips like he’s fighting himself—fighting how much he wants it.

You press closer, your lips grazing the shell of his ear, and you drop your voice into something mocking.

“Oh, you love it, don’t you, baby?” you whisper, just to see what he’ll do.

And that’s when you feel it.

His hips jerk.

Hard.

His fingers dig into your skin like he’s trying to anchor himself, and then another one of those wrecked little groans escapes his throat, unbidden, unfiltered, and—

Oh.

He really likes it.

Your grin turns dangerous.

"God, you’re so pathetic," you taunt, dragging your nails down his chest, relishing the way he shudders. "Grinding all over me like a needy little bitch. You can't even hide how bad you want it, can you?"

"Fuck," he chokes out, his hands flying up to grip your wrists, like he’s trying to get you to stop—but he’s hard as a rock, and his breathing is all over the place, and he looks like he might just die if you stop.

You giggle.

"Katsuki," you purr, tilting your head, dragging your fingers up his throat just to feel it work under your touch. "You’ve been hiding this from me? Hiding how much you love being talked down to like the desperate little thing you are?"

"Shut up," he groans, but his voice is all breathy, all wrecked, like he’s barely holding it together.

"Make me," you challenge.

His hands fly to your waist, flipping you onto your back so fast it makes your head spin, and he’s on you in an instant—hot, hungry, feral.

But then—his lips pause against your skin, and his breath stutters, like he’s waiting.

You smirk, dragging your nails down his back.

"Good boy," you murmur.

And that’s all it takes.

He loses it.

His whole body shudders.

And then—he’s on you.

Katsuki doesn’t waste a second. He crashes his lips against yours, swallowing the laughter bubbling up in your throat, his grip on your hips punishing. He’s kissing you like he wants to ruin you, like he wants to devour every breath you have left—but the way his body trembles against yours?

He’s the one falling apart.

"Oh?" You gasp between kisses, your hands tangling in his hair, yanking him back just enough to see him. His pupils are blown, his breath ragged, and fuck, he's already so gone. "You liked that, huh? Liked being my good boy?"

Katsuki growls, but it’s weak. His hands twitch against your waist, like he wants to deny it—like he should deny it—but then your fingers tighten in his hair, and he whines.

Whines.

"God, you’re pathetic," you murmur, dragging your lips down his jaw, nipping at his skin, feeling the way his breath stutters. "Acting all tough, but the second I get mean, you're melting in my hands like a desperate little thing."

"Fuck," he hisses, his head dropping to your shoulder, his fingers digging into the sheets on either side of you. His whole body is taut, shaking, like he’s holding back.

Like he’s trying so fucking hard not to just give in.

But you won’t let him fight it.

You drag your nails down his back, slow, teasing, then slip your hand between your bodies, palming him through his pants. His hips jerk, a broken moan ripping from his throat, and you giggle.

"Look at you," you coo, rubbing slow, lazy circles over the growing heat between his legs. "You're not even trying to pretend anymore. So easy to break, aren’t you?"

He trembles.

“You love this,” you murmur, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to his ear. “You love when I make you feel like a slut, don’t you, baby?”

His breath hitches.

You can feel him losing control, his whole body going taut above you, barely keeping himself together, and it makes you feel so powerful.

“Say it.”

Katsuki shakes his head, his fingers curling into the sheets. “Fuck—fuck, I—”

You yank his head back, forcing him to look at you. His face is flushed, his lips red and kiss-swollen, and fuck, he looks so wrecked already.

Your smirk is cruel.

“Say it, or I stop.”

His whole body twitches.

And then, in a voice so hoarse, so needy, it nearly breaks you—

“I—” His breath stutters, his jaw clenches, and then—

“I love it.” His voice cracks, desperate, barely a whisper. “I fucking love it.”

And god, he looks so ashamed.

But you can see it in his eyes, in the way he’s gripping you like he needs you, in the way he’s already so far gone—

He doesn’t want you to stop.

Your grin is wicked.

“Good boy.”

[ndgshsns]

DARE

Bakugou Katsuki x (fem) Reader

─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─

The night had started harmless enough.

The girls were gathered in Mina’s room — junk food scattered everywhere, a stupid Truth or Dare game spiraling out of control. You should’ve known something was up when they all kept sneaking glances at you.

Especially Mina.

Mina leaned forward, mischievous glint in her eye. “Alright, Y/N, truth or dare?”

You hesitated. “…Dare?” you said cautiously.

Bad choice.

“I dare you to sneak into Bakugou’s room and put on his hero costume,” she said, grinning like the devil himself.

“You’re insane,” you said immediately, sitting up. “He’ll actually kill me. Like, dead-dead.”

“Come on! You know he’s soft for you,” Uraraka giggled behind her hand. “He won’t even be mad.”

“Yeah, he might even like it— we all know he wants you babe,” Mina wiggled her eyebrows. “Besides, if you do it… I’ll buy you those shoes you’ve been whining about for weeks.”

You froze.

Those perfect, gorgeous sneakers you couldn’t afford.

Damn her.

“…Fine,” you groaned. “But when he blows up the building, I’m blaming you.”

Mina and the girls erupted in quiet cheers, practically shoving you toward the boys’ dorm wing like you were being sent to your execution.

——

Moments later, you were standing inside Bakugou’s room, your heart thundering in your chest.

The room smelled like him — burnt caramel, gunpowder, and something warm underneath it all. His gear was scattered around; shirts tossed over a chair, gym bag half-zipped, boots by the door. Typical.

“Okay, just grab it and go,” you whispered.

You spotted his hero suit neatly folded on his desk chair — black, orange, and rugged as hell. You hesitated for half a second before snatching it up and shimmying into it.

“Whoever is up there please don’t let me die,” you muttered to yourself, grabbing it.

You started stripping from your clothes and wrestled into the top first — the fabric huge, sleeves dangling past your hands. You tucked it into the pants, which, unfortunately, fit suspiciously well around your hips.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.

You looked ridiculous.

“Oh my god, I look like a fan at a con,” you groaned, cheeks burning.

And then you spotted the gauntlets.

Those massive grenade-shaped wrist-cannons Bakugou wore like they weighed nothing.

You hesitated.

“How heavy can they be?” you muttered, reaching for one.

Answer: Fucking. HEAVY.

As soon as you tried to lift it, your wrist sank like a stone. You barely managed to drag it up to your elbow. You grunted, using both hands, nearly toppling over.

“Holy shit, what is this, like seventy pounds?!” you gasped, wobbling around like a baby deer.

You tried lifting both gauntlets — a mistake.

The second one yanked you down so hard you dropped onto your knees with a loud thud.

“KILL ME NOW,” you whispered dramatically, struggling to even stay upright.

You were panting, red-faced, arms trembling like a noodle trying to balance the absurd weight.

And that’s when you heard heavy footsteps outside the door.

You were mid-struggle — sweating, cursing under your breath — when you heard the faintest creak in the hallway.

Your blood ran cold.

Outside, Bakugou was stomping toward his room — still pissed off from a shitty sparring session. All he wanted was a shower and his bed.

But when he reached his door and noticed it slightly ajar, his instincts screamed at him.

Someone was inside.

Without hesitation, he kicked the door open, the wood slamming into the wall with a loud crack.

“WHAT. THE. FUCK” he started. Because there you were. Standing in his room. Wearing his goddamn hero suit.

Struggling to lift one of his heavy-ass grenade gauntlets while looking like you were about to cry.

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

You blinked at him, caught like a deer in headlights. The sleeves hung off your arms, the fabric clinging to the curve of your waist and hips, the belt loose around you — and those gauntlets, way too big for you, dragging along the floor.

Bakugou’s red eyes darkened — not with anger, but something hotter. Something hungry.

“The hell do you think you’re doing?” he growled, low and rough.

Your face flushed deep red. “I-it’s not what it looks like…well I mean kinda but—”

“Looks like you’re trying real hard to make me lose my goddamn mind,” he cut you off, stepping inside, the door swinging shut behind him with a heavy click.

You stumbled back instinctively, bumping against the desk, heart hammering.

Bakugou stalked closer, the heat from his body practically rolling off him.

“You break into my room,” he muttered, voice dropping dangerously low, “Wearin’ my gear,” — he leaned in, caging you between his arms, his palms slamming flat against the desk on either side of you — “dress up like some fuckin’ fantasy — and think you’re just gonna walk away?”

You whined as one gauntlet slipped off your wrist, almost tipping you over. “I-it was a dare! Mina—”

Bakugou huffed a humorless laugh.

Without effort, he reached down and easily grabbed both massive gauntlets from you like they were pillows. You stared in shock as he tossed them aside with a heavy clang.

His turned back down at you with a smirk, almost cocky, predatory. “You look like shit,” he said bluntly. “But… you also look kinda fuckin’ hot wearin’ my colors.”

Your breath hitched.

He was so close now — you could see the golden flecks in his furious crimson eyes, the way his jaw clenched tightly, the tension practically crackling off him.

“It was a dare I swear…” you whispered weakly.

“Don’t care,” Bakugou muttered.

You swallowed hard, chest heaving.

His gaze dropped down your body, dragging slowly over every inch of you — the oversized top slipping off your shoulder, the snugness of the pants on your hips.

When his eyes flicked back up to yours, they were molten.

“Bet you’d look even better outta ’em,” he murmured, his voice like honey.

You whimpered — actually whimpered — and immediately cursed yourself for it.

Bakugou grinned — slow, wolfish — like he’d just found his favorite new toy.

Your knees wobbled. “Suki…i’m sor—” you whispered.

He didn’t give you a chance to finish.

Without warning, he grabbed you by the belt loops, yanked you against him, and crushed his mouth onto yours.

The kiss was hungry, punishing — all teeth and tongue and pent-up frustration.

You gasped, clutching his shirt, letting him devour you, dizzy from the heat pouring off his body.

When he finally pulled back, he was panting, forehead pressed against yours.

“Mine,” he growled against your lips, nipping sharply at your lower lip, making you gasp again. “You got that, princess? You wanna wear my shit, fine — but you better fuckin’ know you belong to me.”

You nodded shakily, dazed, drunk off the taste of him. Bakugou pulled back slightly — just enough to glare at you, his hands still gripping your waist, thumbs sliding dangerously low toward the hem of the pants.

“Next time you wanna play dress-up,” he rasped, smirking wickedly, “ask me first and I’ll even help you out of em’.”

The look in his eyes promised a lot more than just help and you — flushed, panting, brain short-circuiting — could only whisper, “Okay…”

Bakugou chuckled darkly, pressing one more bruising kiss to your mouth before leaning back.

“Good,” he said, tugging the belt around your waist tight with a hard snap, making you squeak. “Now get ready, princess. You started this shit — you’re not walking outta here anytime soon.”

——

The next afternoon, you sat cross-legged on Mina’s bed, surrounded by the girls, trying very hard to act normal.

Your new sneakers — the ones Mina had bribed you with — sat unopened in the box on your lap.

“Come on, open it already!” Mina whined, bouncing beside you.

You shifted awkwardly, biting back a grimace. Your thighs ached. Your hips ached. Hell, even your neck was a little sore.

Turns out, Bakugou was very, very thorough about claiming what was “his” last night.

You coughed, sitting up straighter, ignoring the smug way Mina was side-eyeing you.

“I’m fine,” you muttered defensively, opening the box.

Inside were the sneakers you’d been dreaming about — sleek, perfect, untouched.

You gasped. “Holy shit… they’re even prettier in person!”

Mina clapped excitedly. “See? Totally worth it!”

You snorted. “Yeah, tell that to my back.”

Mina laughed. “You’re welcome. Besides, don’t pretend you didn’t have a good night.”

You flushed from head to toe. “Mina!” you hissed, smacking her with a pillow.

The other girls burst out laughing.

Before you could defend yourself, your phone buzzed in your lap.

——

Explosion boy <3 :

5:35pm - Come to my dorm later.

5:36pm - Or do you need help gettin’ here, princess?

5:36pm - Bet you’re fuckin’ sore.

5:37pm - Want me to come kiss it better?

——

You squeaked audibly and immediately dropped your phone like it burned you.

“Who’s that?” Mina teased, leaning over.

“N-Nobody!” you yelped, clutching the sneakers like they were a lifeline.

But your red face said it all.

Across the room, Mina smirked like she’d just won the lottery.

“Told you,” she whispered to Uraraka. “Soft spot. Huge.”

And maybe…

just maybe…

you weren’t totally mad about it.

[ndgshsns]

I LOVE when my girlie mutuals reblog gross gross things like yes baby girl I support you

[ndgshsns]

these freaks omfg

[ndgshsns]

could you write a story about bakugou teaching y/n how to kiss?

🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

𝐵𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑔𝑜: 𝑆𝑜𝑓𝑡 𝑆𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑠

Thank you so much, hope you like it as much as I did! Don’t forget to drop any other requests you got in mind!

Every time Bakugo tried to make a kiss last longer than a brief brush, you pulled away. Not abruptly, but with subtle gestures: a slight turn of the head, a nervous laugh that broke the moment, an apologetic excuse about the time, the movie, the phone.

And of course, he wasn’t an idiot. He knew everyone had their own pace. Their fears. Their walls. And if you needed time, he was gonna respect that. Period.

Still, in his crimson gaze, always alert, the question floated: Why?

That night you were cuddled on the couch. A movie played in the background, the lights were low, a bowl of popcorn between you and a spoon buried in a tub of ice cream you were sharing. The atmosphere was chill, comfortable… until he noticed some ice cream at the corner of your lips.

"You got a little something..." he murmured, leaning in to wipe it with his thumb. But his eyes, intense as always, didn’t leave yours. And with a smooth movement, with that same confidence he always carried, he gently held your chin and pressed his lips to yours.

He was inviting you to follow… but there was no response.

You pulled back. It wasn’t dramatic, just a tiny space, barely a few centimeters. But for him, it was enough.

"Y/n..." he whispered. His voice was deep, rough, but controlled, like every word cost him his calm. "Something wrong?"

You hesitated. Swallowed hard, looked down. You couldn’t hold his gaze. And in the end, with a low voice, almost embarrassed, you confessed:

"It’s just… I don’t know how to kiss."

For a second, Bakugo went silent. He blinked, processing your words. And then, to his own surprise, let out a soft laugh—more like an incredulous exhale.

"That’s the problem?" he scoffed at himself, shaking his head for overthinking it so much.

"I feel like I’m gonna mess it up…" you said, biting your lower lip, insecure.

"There’s nothing to mess up, Y/n…" he replied sincerely. His voice sounded different now: lower, warmer, like he was talking to you from a place he didn’t show to just anyone.

You made a face, still not quite convinced.

"I’m gonna learn," you declared, more like a promise to yourself than to him.

"Oh yeah? And how you gonna learn?" he asked, crossing his arms, raising a brow with barely hidden amusement.

You went silent. You didn’t wanna admit what you’d already thought about. Didn’t wanna sound pathetic.

"Reading? Watching videos? Or worse… practicing with your reflection in the mirror?" he went on, and even though his tone had a teasing edge, it wasn’t mean.

"You’re making fun of me?"

"No," he denied, shrugging. "I’m just saying it’s kinda dumb… when you got me right here."

You looked at him, a little surprised, a little hopeful.

"You gonna teach me?"

He barely nodded, that half-smirk on his face that made you feel like you were the only person in his world.

"Who else, Y/n?"

"Now?"

"Now… if you want."

You didn’t say anything. You just closed your eyes and let yourself be guided. Because if you were going to learn, you wanted it to be with him.

The calluses of his palms grazed your cheeks, rough against your skin, but the touch was incredibly gentle. His thumbs stopped just beneath your cheekbones, drawing tiny circles, as if he was memorizing every detail of you.

The first touch of his lips was so light you barely noticed it. There was no pressure, no rush. Just the warmth of his breath mingling with yours.

He leaned in again, this time with a bit more pressure. His lips moved slowly, teaching you the rhythm:

To the right (a soft glide).

A pause (his lips stayed still, letting you feel the heat).

To the left (firmer this time).

By the time he pulled away, his fingers were still on your face, his eyes watching you intently.

“See? There’s nothing to mess up,” he said, and his voice, for the first time, sounded almost… sweet.

His lips brushed yours again, slowly, recreating that warm, soft connection where time seemed to fade away. He paused there for a moment, breathing with you.

“I’m gonna use my tongue this time,” he whispered, his lips barely parted from yours. “Just a little. And when I do… don’t freak out. You don’t have to do anything right away, okay?”

Bakugo kissed you again, just as slowly, but this time his tongue barely peeked out, grazing your lower lip. It was a light caress, an invitation, not an invasion. He waited for your reaction. When you didn’t pull away, he did it again, firmer this time, running his tongue softly along the seam of your lips, asking for permission with patience.

“Open them a little,” he whispered, his voice soft between kisses. “Not much… just a bit.”

You did.

His tongue sought yours carefully, touching it, brushing it gently, guiding you.

“Don’t push,” he murmured between sighs. “Just follow me… respond.”

When you dared to touch his tongue with more intent, when your movements stopped being clumsy and became curious, he smiled against your lips, quietly, as if he didn’t want to interrupt your progress.

“Feel it?” he asked, his breath mixing with yours, his voice low.

The sounds —your muffled moans, his approving grunts— became impossible to ignore.

Your hands, which had stayed still at your sides until then, rose of their own accord. Your trembling fingers found his chest first, feeling the wild thrum of his heartbeat under the shirt, before tangling in the collar of his hoodie.

By the time you pulled away, both of you were panting. Not exactly from lack of air, but from everything that kiss had awakened. Your lips still pulsed with every rapid beat of your heart, and his looked slightly more red, wet, and slightly parted.

A strand of saliva still connected you, glistening obscenely under the warm light of the sunset streaming through the window.

His thumb slid slowly over your lower lip, wiping away the trace with an unexpected tenderness.

“Not bad for a first lesson,” he murmured, his voice lower, rougher.

You let out a nervous laugh, still trying to catch your breath, but didn’t look away. Not after everything that had passed between you in that kiss.

“And… what grade do you give me?” you asked, barely a whisper, unable to hide the shyness still trembling in your voice.

Bakugo smirked, his gaze intense and slightly mocking as he leaned in a little toward you, letting his breath caress your skin.

“A grade high enough to want more, Y/n,” he replied, his tone low and husky. “But don’t get excited, there’s still plenty more to learn.”

The gleam in his eyes was clear: he wasn’t stopping there.

• Masterlist

Content @ghostlycamil4 2025. Do not copy or modify.

[ndgshsns]

Need a sub top who goes dumb the instant he's inside me. I need him speechless, sticking his tongue out and grabbing desperately at my hips, crying and whining and yelping like a bitch in heat every time our hips touch. He's gasping, trying to get the words out, but I clench my pussy walls around his cock and his eyes roll back into his head, mouth open, his eyes fluttering shut, letting out tears that roll down his pretty, overwhelmed face.