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samoankpoper21 · 3 days ago

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He’s been all over my fyp on tiktok recently and I finally have a bit of free time sooo.. let’s talk about Canonically Weird Best Friend! Akaashi

Canonically Weird Best Friend! Akaashi who you became friends with after hearing him hum a song from a movie you didn’t expect a guy like him to watch.

Canonically Weird Best Friend! Akaashi who tells you the lamest jokes with the straightest face. And has the audacity to ask you what’s funny when you laugh.

Canonically Weird Best Friend! Akaashi who would literally stand behind you when you’re not paying attention and waits for you to notice him so you get a little jump scare and has the nerve to snicker.

Canonically Weird Best Friend! Akaashi who suggests you guys make up your own language, everyone looks at you like you have two heads when you both start talking/giggling in the language.

Canonically Weird Best Friend! Akaashi who keeps plants. Even names them and convinces you that as his best friend you get one to keep his company.

Canonically Weird Best Friend! Akaashi that you’ve noticed stares at you longer than what’s probably appropriate. His touch lingers on you too, never wanting to stray too far it seems.

Canonically Weird Best Friend! Akaashi who suddenly becomes clingy. To the point where he’s even slipping his head inside of your(his) oversized hoodie so he can lay his head on your chest.

Canonically Weird Best Friend! Akaashi who says that just being friends with you isn’t enough for him, he likes you so much he wants to be in your skin so you never have to separate, but he refrains from mentioning that, simply stating that he longs to be with you romantically.

Canonically Weird Boyfriend! Akaashi who steals all your faded/ old graphic tees. He’s a collector of the like and you have a great selection.

Canonically Weird Boyfriend! Akaashi who “borrows” one of your socks from you on game days for “good luck”.

Canonically Weird! Boyfriend Akaashi who constantly fantasizes about fucking you in the most absurd positions/places. Doggy style on the court. Cowgirl in the locker room. Full Nelson in front of Bokuto.

That one really does it for him.

Canonically Weird! Boyfriend Akaashi who gets visibly excited when he finally has you laid out in front of him, all plush thighs and soft stomach. Your juicy cunt just ready for him to dive in. “Please, Keiji. Need you so bad!” You whine out for him.

You look so fucking cute. The way the tears pool in your eyes while you look up at him all doe-eyed making his cock throb between his bare legs. “Patience, baby. I always treat you right, don’t I?” He asks, smirking as he runs a finger through your folds. You shudder at the feeling, your voice barely above a whisper, “Yesss.” You practically hiss, and Akaashi decides to have a little mercy on you.

He sucks your clit into his mouth, running his tongue over the bundle of nerves briefly before slowly moving down, tongue laving at your opening. He points his tongue before licking inside, wiggling the muscle as far as he can inside your cunt. You gasp, pussy clenching at the intrusion before you slowly start grinding your pussy against his face, seeking out more of that delicious friction. His nose bumps your clit a few times and it’s with that your orgasm washes over you. You shudder as it ripples through you, your essence flooding Akaashi’s tongue.

He comes up for air, chin glistening with your juices. He wipes his chin with his thumb before sticking the soaked digit in your mouth. Your flavor dances on your tongue before Akaashi’s taking the appendage out, replacing it with his tongue. You both make out while you slowly come down from your high, though it’s only a matter of time before he’s back to being his weird self.

“Next time, we’re putting frosting and sprinkles on your ass. I want cake.”

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samoankpoper21 · 3 days ago

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synopsis ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ you talk about your husband like he is a dream and, frankly, your coworkers think that you are making him up. that is until your husband shows up.

you talked about your husband all the time.

nanami this nanami that

“oh, my husband makes the best lunchboxes”

“he stayed up to help me with my report”

“he walks me to the station when i stay late”

you weren’t annoying about it. not really. just a little too consistent. always saying things like “he’ll pick me up after work today, we’re going to get pastries!” and showing off texts that made your coworkers tilt their heads and squint.

kento nanami sounded fake.

a little too nice. a little too attentive.

and when you tacked on the fact that he was hot — “blond, tall, glasses, kinda quiet but really handsome, you know?” — people at work started to think that maybe you were pulling everyone’s leg.

just a little.

not out of malice — no, never that — but maybe you were lonely. maybe you just needed a sweet little fantasy to get you through the day. who could blame you?

because no way someone like nanami existed. not the way you described him. it just didn’t sound real. not in this world. not in this economy.

but you never let up.

you beamed like a lovesick fool when your phone lit up with his name. you refused to make afterwork plans on fridays because that was “friday pasta night with kento.” you sighed wistfully every time someone so much as mentioned a bakery and then whispered, “kento always remembers my favorite,” like you were in some fairytale.

you weren’t smug about it either. it was just… relentless. like you were trying to manifest it into reality.

and maybe it would’ve stayed harmless water cooler gossip — “hey, what do you think her husband actually looks like?” or “maybe it’s just her roommate who makes all the food?” — if you hadn’t mentioned that he’d be picking you up from work one day soon.

“he’s on leave,” you’d said, head bent over a spreadsheet, smiling to yourself. “wants to take me out for dinner. he’ll be here early. maybe you’ll see him.”

you said it innocently. with that dreamy lilt you always got when his name was on your tongue.

but that set off everyone.

bets were placed. theories floated. some said he’d never show. others swore they’d catch you whispering to your reflection in the hallway like a crazy person. one guy from accounting said he saw you with a facetime open to a picture of a k-pop idol and he swore it was nanami. it was all harmless. mostly.

people just didn’t believe it.

until the elevator doors slid open.

and nanami stepped out.

he wore a tan wool coat, fitted slacks, button-up half undone at the throat — all that fine-tuned, elegant masculinity that seemed sculpted into place. hair slicked back, wristwatch glinting, and an expression that was all quiet restraint, the kind that turned heads on instinct.

and his eyes — sharp, deep, familiar — scanned the room once, then softened the moment he saw you.

“you ready, sweetheart?” he asked.

your coworkers went silent.

someone dropped their pen.

you lit up instantly. grinned, grabbed your bag, waved at everyone with a cheery, “see you tomorrow!” like this wasn’t the most monumental moment of vindication in the history of your office.

nanami took your coat from you before you even shrugged it off fully. guided you with a hand on the small of your back. leaned in and brushed a kiss to your temple so naturally that your coworker audibly gasped.

he glanced up then. noticed the sea of frozen faces.

“good evening,” he said politely, like he didn’t just obliterate the collective doubt of your entire floor with one gentle peck.

you left with him. smiling, chatting, looping your arm through his as he opened the door and held it for you.

and behind you — a stunned, stunned silence.

“…so,” someone whispered, finally. “that was nanami?”

“the nanami?” another croaked.

“that man’s real?”

“she wasn’t even exaggerating,” came the hollow, awe-struck reply. “she was under-selling him.”

and in the elevator, nanami turned to you and smiled, faint but amused. “you were right,” he murmured, “they really didn’t believe i existed.”

you snorted and leaned into his side. “i told you. now they’ll think i made you in a lab.”

“i wouldn’t be bothered by that,” he said, tugging you closer, kissing your knuckles as the doors closed. “you did a perfect job, if so.”

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samoankpoper21 · 3 days ago

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🥹🥹

I just want to give him the world

“happy father’s day,” you murmur, slipping your arms around gojo’s waist from behind.

he’s halfway through shoveling a spoonful of strawberry ice cream into his mouth and pauses mid-bite.

“huh?” he mumbles, turning slightly in your arms with a mouthful and furrowed brow. “baby, you know we don’t have kids, right? unless you’ve been hiding a baby somewhere i don’t know about?”

you roll your eyes. “i know, dumbass.”

he pouts. “so why’re you saying—”

you just point with your chin across the courtyard.

he follows your gaze.

there, lounging like a band of chaotic little gremlins, are yuuji, megumi, and nobara, bickering over popsicle flavors. maki’s sitting on the bench beside them, trying not to smile as panda pokes fun at toge for something, who just responds with a flat “salmon.”

satoru looks, then looks again.

then his eyes widen behind his sunglasses, lips parting just slightly. “oh.”

you nod. “yeah.”

he turns fully in your arms, ice cream long forgotten, the softest smile blooming across his face—bright and fond and achingly proud.

“they’re kids,” he says quietly, “they’re my little kids.”

“exactly,” you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “you taught them how to fight, how to survive. how to live. they’re still here because of you.”

he blinks a few times. doesn’t say anything.

just watches as yuuji leans back and laughs so hard he nearly tips over, megumi catching him by the collar without looking. nobara shoves them both and gets dragged into the pile.

maki shakes her head. panda sighs. toge just laughs.

a tiny, watery chuckle escapes satoru’s chest.

you nudge him gently. “you’re not just their sensei. you’re their… you know. their person.”

he leans into your forehead and breathes in slow. “you’re gonna make me cry,” he says, voice cracking a little.

“good,” you smile, wiping under his glasses.

he kisses you, sweet and slow, and then pulls back to yell at the kids, voice suddenly obnoxiously loud—

“hey! none of you got me a card?! what kind of disrespect—megumi, stop pretending you don’t care, you’re my grumpy little son—”

megumi groans. nobara throws a napkin at him. yuuji waves enthusiastically and screams, “HAPPY DAD’S DAY, SENSEI!”

and gojo beams so hard it looks like the sun broke loose from the sky and settled in his chest.

tori’s notes ᝰ.ᐟ i guess i’m a little late but happy father’s day gojo!! ily pls come back home

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samoankpoper21 · 3 days ago

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Tears in the rain

It’s really something with Levi Ackerman and listening to The Weeknd. Inspiration hit me so hard again and I kiss Levi my muse for that 🥰 Also I didn’t ever draw him with his cape and uniform before, definitely gonna do that more often.

Made with Procreate 🎨

!Reblogs and comments as likes, are always appreciated! Please don’t not repost or claim it as yours!

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samoankpoper21 · 3 days ago

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I call this the “My Lover Scarified Themselves For Me” club

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samoankpoper21 · 3 days ago

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gojo satoru was spoiled, sure. but he wasn’t used to being cared for.

he had people who answered to him. people who revered him, feared him, respected him. his clan, his school, his students. everything he wanted, he could have. everything he needed, someone got for him.

but then there was you.

you, who didn’t flinch when he joked too loudly or smiled too wide. you, who didn’t tiptoe around his legacy like it was made of glass. you, who leaned into him instead of away, who called him “satoru” like he was just a man, not the strongest.

and when you touched him, it wasn’t reverent or worshipful or like you owed him anything. it was simple. kind. natural.

like reaching to fix his collar on a windy morning.

like putting his favorite tea on the stove before he even asked.

like dragging him to bed when he passed out on the couch, glasses skewed, mouth slightly open.

“come on,” you’d mutter, soft but firm, “sleep properly, sato.”

and he’d blink up at you, half-lidded and drowsy, and feel something sweet settle in his chest.

you didn’t do these things because he asked. you didn’t do them because he was gojo satoru. you just… cared.

it rattled something in him.

once, you made him lunch and packed it for him in a neat little box. he opened it during a break at jujutsu tech, laughing at a text from you about something dumb his students did.

inside, there was his favorite food. a little sticky note with a doodle. a stupid pun you’d written.

don’t fight anyone on an empty stomach!!

he sat there, chopsticks halfway to his mouth, and just stared.

he thought about how no one had ever done that before. not like this. not with that silly, mindless affection. not because they wanted to make his day better.

and that night, when he came home, he found you on the couch in your pajamas, phone in hand, hair messy from the way you curled up against the cushions.

he walked over without saying a word, dropped to his knees in front of you, and laid his head in your lap.

you blinked down at him. “…long day?”

he nodded, face pressed against your stomach, arms winding around your waist.

“thank you,” he mumbled.

you snorted. “for what?”

he didn’t answer. just closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of your laundry detergent, your skin, your home.

he’d always had everything he could ask for. but until you, he didn’t know what it meant to be loved for nothing. for free.

and god, did it make him want to give you the world.

tori’s notes ᝰ.ᐟ i love satoru 😔

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samoankpoper21 · 3 days ago

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New Nails, Who Dis?

cw: smut, established relationship, creampie, unprotected sex, teasing, biting, scratching, cum licking, grinding, f! reader, all characters are 18+, MDNI, barely proofread lolll

a/n: daddy’s home everyone…. it’s been so long since my last fic was posted :/ sorry for starving you guys for so long </3 I’ll try my best to be more frequently active again..no promises tho LOLLL

Whenever you get a new set of nails, you find yourself perched up in Gojo Satoru's lap, your hands against his pecs as he traces the pretty designs of your nails. A love-sick smile on his face as he listens to you talk about your day and the errands you ran.

His fingers trace over the bold, black curved "G" l painted against your white French tips, all while your teeth sink into your bottom lip—nearly cutting into the soft tissue of your glossy lips—as your thighs quiver from his thrusts.

You sniff, tears brimming at the corners of your eyes as you grind against his thick cock, arms shaking from overwhelming pleasure as you try to stay upright. Your newly fresh acrylics digging into Satoru's defined chest, leaving behind a trail of angry red claw marks, only further encouraging him to increase his pace.

Throwing your head back in pleasure, your breasts bounce in sync with each snap of his hips as your back arches. His hands trail down from your fingers to your arms before gripping the plush of your hips, guiding your soaked pussy along his impressive length.

"Ah—fuck, 'toru," you whimper, eyes rolling to the back of your skull, hands now resting at his broad shoulders, fingertips digging into his pale flesh as you both try to chase your high. "Right there," you sob prettily, wet lashes fluttering as you take in his flushed cheeks and the goofy grin on his face.

“Shit,” Satoru groans, his voice heavy and strained. His fingers dig into your soft hips, leaving crescent-shaped indents in your skin from the strength of his grip. There’s a quiver in his voice as he keeps up the pace. “Hear that, baby?”

Your breath hitches, and the sound of skin slapping skin fills the room —squelch, squelch, squelch— the obscene sound of your slick walls clenching around him as each thrust becomes louder than the last.

A hand trails down from your hips to between your thighs, making you flinch as the rough pad of his thumb starts circling your sensitive clit. Letting out a breathy whimper, your hips jerk from the sudden stimulation.

His other hand slides up the nape of your neck, pulling you down into a messy, sloppy kiss—full of teeth, tongue, and saliva—almost rivaling the wetness of your pussy. Almost.

“That’s how wet this pussy is,” he says, a cocky smirk curling on his lips as his cerulean eyes drink you in. Every flinch. Every hitched breath. Every flutter of your lashes and every bite of your lip. “All for me,” he whispers into your ear, teeth grazing your lobe with a teasing bite.

His pace turns brutal—deep, relentless thrusts pounding up into your soaked, fluttering cunt as he chases your release on his thick cock.

Your eyes screw shut the moment he bottoms out inside you, and with a strained groan, thick, hot ropes of cum shoot deep into your womb. Your greedy pussy clenches around him like a vice—he lets out a low, broken moan, hips stuttering as you squeeze his aching length, your fluttering lips milking every last drop as you come undone around him.

A mixture of your cum and his begins to pool beneath the sheets and onto his lap, which he eagerly cleans up with his fingers, dipping them into the mess before shoving them into your mouth and watching you moan around his fingers.

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 © 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐒 — do not copy, translate, repost or modify my works on any platf

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samoankpoper21 · 3 days ago

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“i cannot believe you.”

your hand rested on the door in front of you, laying your forehead against it as you tried to settle down.

“seriously?! don’t tell me you think what i did was wrong!” he flailed his hands, walking across the room and standing near the sofas.

“he caught me off guard and threw the first—”

“but you hit him back! just because he hit you first doesn’t make you right, satoru.”

he swallows. hard. winced at how you spat out his name like it’s nothing.

he’s satoru gojo. he should be untouchable, impossible to even approach. but this random guy had the nerve to even lay a fist on him? no, completely out of satoru’s logic.

“don’t tell me you’re taking his side,” he scoffs.

“i’m not taking sides! both of you were wrong, look where it got us!” your voice was louder now, head pounding as the officer’s words from earlier echoed in your head.

“just think! for once, satoru!” you walked towards the bedroom, satoru following a distance behind.

“god, i can’t be near you right now—”

“no, we’re talking it out. right here,” he snapped in a low, demanding voice.

“satoru, just—” your voice was hushed, putting all your effort into keeping yourself together. you turn around to face him, voice laced with desperation.

“i just need space right now, satoru.”

he stopped, heart sinking.

he held space in his fingertips, always keeping everyone outside of his own. defense, offense, he’d constantly mind that space. but with you? he’d never have to. he’d keep you close, comfort and safety washing over him in waves.

so why the hell should he give that up?

but, he looked at you, temper soothing. he saw the way your body trembled, bottom lip slightly quivering as your eyes watered.

“how long?” he muttered, breathing becoming rugged.

“ten minutes. won’t take long, just need to calm myself down,” you sighed, rubbing your tears away.

he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t kiss your forehead like he usually does when you leave the house. he stands there, waiting for you to walk out on your own.

and so, he waits.

the seconds seemed to go by painfully slower, but he had the time to slow down himself. his mind’s clearer, even as his leg continued to bounce.

when you walk out of the bedroom — ten minutes later like you said — he stays and watches as you sit next to him on the couch, a small, reachable distance from him. you talk it out, the need for shouting long gone. when all words are said and done, you sit quietly together, still a distance away.

“still need space?” he asks, voice hushed and cautious. you let out a small chuckle as you spot his pinky trying to sneak its way to yours.

“you’re not very good at this, ‘toru,” you smile. he pulls his hand back, a playful pout on his face when he hears you say his favored name.

“gimme a break, ’m trying here,” he huffs. you smile and scooch closer to him, wrapping your arms around him.

“i know. thank you for that.”

he wraps his around yours, taking in your warm scent as he finally had his haven again.

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samoankpoper21 · 3 days ago

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‘your face is pretty, can i sit on it?’

ft. nanami, gojo, geto, sukuna, higuruma, toji, shiu

nsfw.

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samoankpoper21 · 3 days ago

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Feel It Still

Smau: in which you ask the jjk men if they can feel your puss puss on their thigh when you sit on their lap Warnings: 18+ mdni, fluff and crack, cursing not proofread Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna, Ino, Shiu, Hiromi

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samoankpoper21 · 4 days ago

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Every Inch, Every Curve

Whoever x Reader

◌⃘❀1,442 words, sweet & domestic, you're married with a baby, on your side->missionary, light choking, making out, pet names(e.g, sweetie/sweetheart and baby), chubby reader, no condom-> he pulls out and finishes in your mouth, ect◌⃘❀

It had been one of those days.

The baby had decided naps were worthless and teething was a war. You’d rocked, paced, sang lullabies until your voice cracked, and still—he only calmed when you laid him on your chest, heart to heart. So that’s where you stayed most of the afternoon: curled up on the couch in an oversized tee, your soft body wrapped around his tiny one. Even though your back ached, and your legs were stiff from barely moving, you wouldn’t trade it. Not when he curled his little fingers around your thumb like he never wanted to let go.

You’d managed to cook dinner in stretches—one arm bouncing the baby while the other stirred rice, then rushing to finish before he cried again. But the house was clean, soft music was playing low, and by some miracle, you got the baby down by seven.

Now it was quiet.

You’d changed into a fresh sleep shirt and rubbed some cocoa butter over your hips and belly, your thighs and arms. You liked the way your skin glowed afterward. You liked being soft. He always did, too.

By the time he got home, the food was warm on the stove and the baby hadn’t stirred. You watched him come in, his tired eyes scanning for you first. His shirt clung a little from the shower, sweats slung low. He looked like a walking sigh—home and heat and something to sink into.

“Hey, baby,” he murmured, kissing your cheek.

“Hey.” You leaned into it, greedy for more. Your hands stayed on his chest longer than they should’ve, fingers curling in the cotton. “Missed you.”

He smiled, one hand resting on your waist. “Missed you too.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆

He sat down at the table after checking on the baby, nodding in approval when he lifted the lid on the pot and got a whiff of everything you’d made. You watched him from across the table, chin in hand, trying to act normal—but the look in your eyes gave you away.

“Damn, baby. You been cookin’ all this with one hand today?” he asked between bites, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You spoilin’ me.”

You shrugged, pleased. “Figured I’d keep you fed so you stay sweet.”

He raised an eyebrow, amused. “Sweet? That what you think I am?”

“You’re sweet to me,” you said with a smirk, dragging your fork across your plate. “When you not bein’ a pain in my ass.”

“Mhm.” He cut his eyes at you, slow and knowing. “That mouth gon’ get you in trouble.”

You licked your lips on purpose. “Hope so.”

He stilled mid-chew. You could see his jaw tick, just a little. And then he shook his head, grinning low to himself. “You don’t know how to act.”

You shrugged again, pretending to focus on your food. “I’m just sayin’ you sittin’ over there lookin’ fine. Fresh out the shower, all quiet like you don’t know I been waitin’ on you.”

His fork clinked against his plate. He leaned back in his chair, watching you now. “Waitin’, huh?”

“Mhm.” You looked up at him through your lashes, biting your lip. “But I guess you too hungry to care.”

He chuckled, deep and low. “You really tryna start with me over dinner?”

“Maybe.”

He stood and walked around to your side of the table, leaned in to kiss the top of your head—sweet, restrained. “Eat. You need your energy.”

You pouted. But you finished your food.

⋆ ˚｡⋆

Later, in bed, the lights were off and the baby monitor glowed softly in the corner. You lay beside him in your tank top and shorts, body warm from the shower, but you couldn't get comfortable. You kept shifting, adjusting your leg, turning the pillow, rolling away, then back again.

His voice came out quiet, slightly rough from nearly dozing off.

“You alright, baby?”

You hesitated. Then whispered, “I want you.”

His eyes opened, head tilting your way in the dark.

“Thought you were tired,” he murmured.

“I was.” You rolled toward him, reaching under the covers. “But now I’m just... needy.”

He hummed, his voice dropping lower. “That right?”

“Mhm.”

You slid your hand up his chest, gentle and slow, letting your body curve into his. “You look so good tonight. Smell so good. I been thinking about you all day…”

He turned his head toward you, brushing your mouth with his, voice warm and thick.

“Come here then, sweetie.”

His hands settled on your hips, firm but gentle, pulling you closer until your bodies were flush against each other. The heat of him pressed into your curves made your breath hitch, and your lips parted just enough for him to dive in.

His mouth was warm and hungry—sloppy kisses that tasted like everything you wanted, tongue slipping past your lips, tangling with yours. You sucked on him, eager and bold, not holding back, and he groaned low in his throat, fingers tightening slightly around your waist.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmured, voice rough. “You taste so good.”

You whimpered, feeling that familiar heat pooling low in your belly. His hand slid from your hip up the curve of your side, his thumb brushing over your soft skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“Gonna fuck you so good,” he said, voice low and commanding, eyes dark with need. “You ready for me?”

You nodded, breath shaky, and he kissed you again—this time with a little more urgency, hands tangling in your hair as he leaned down.

His weight pressed into you, chest against your soft curves, and when he slid inside, the stretch and fullness made you gasp. He moved slow at first, letting you adjust, his hands framing your face as he kissed you like you were the only thing that mattered.

“God, you’re so beautiful like this,” he whispered between kisses, lips trailing down your neck. “Every inch of you. I love your curves, your softness… everything.”

You melted into him, heart racing. His hand found your throat, fingers gentle but firm, giving just the slightest pressure that made you shiver with a mix of pleasure and trust.

“Look at me,” he said, voice low and steady, “I’m all yours.”

You did, eyes wide and full of heat, and he kissed you again—deep, messy, like he couldn’t get enough.

The rhythm picked up, and you clung to him, moaning into his mouth as he fucked you slow and steady, lips never leaving yours. His hands explored your body, squeezing and teasing, one sliding down to cup your breast, the feeling of the band around his finger made you hum.

“Say my name, baby,” he demanded, voice thick.

And you did. Over and over.

“Please,” you whimpered, “please, I want you…”

He bit gently on your lip, then pulled back, reaching for your thighs and lifting them around his waist. With a grunt, he rolled you both over, shifting you onto your back on the bed.

His hands pinned your wrists above your head, giving you no choice but to look up at him, the mix of stern and tender in his gaze making your pulse thunder.

“You like that, don’t you?” he said, voice rough. “Like when I’m in control.”

You nodded, breathless, lips parted and eyes shining.

“Tell me,” he pressed.

“I want you,” you breathed, voice shaky and sweet. “I want you so bad.”

His grin was wicked as he leaned down again, lips crashing on yours with hungry need.

He didn’t waste time—fingers trailing down your sides, over every curve he adored, worshipping your body like a masterpiece. You wriggled under his touch, whining softly as he found just the right spot inside you, making your breath hitch and your body shudder.

“Baby,” he growled low, voice thick with need, “you’re gonna come for me. You better let me hear it.”

You did—moaning, whining, calling out his name as waves of pleasure crashed through you, your body trembling beneath his. He kissed every sound off your lips, holding you tight as you came undone.

Not slowing down, he leaned back down, catching your mouth again, his tongue claiming yours as he fucked into you harder, deeper, each thrust sending sparks through your core.

With a strangled groan, he pulled your mouth open and spilled himself inside—warm and thick. You swallowed every drop, tasting him and feeling that fierce, raw connection that always left you breathless.

He collapsed beside you, forehead resting against yours, breath ragged but eyes soft.

“I love you,” he whispered, voice full of something tender and fierce. “Every inch of you, baby. Don’t ever doubt that.”

You smiled, heart swelling.

“I love you too.”

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samoankpoper21 · 4 days ago

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🥹🥹

Thinking about Atsumu’s chubby darling running to him after a national match where he barely got to be on the court.

“Ahh, baby, you were fantastic!”

The setter grinned brightly when you jogged the short way across the court into his waiting arms.

“Nah, Tobio did all the heavy liftin’. I just got a few points, is all.” You frowned at this uncharacteristic display of modesty but caught onto his spiel a moment later when he went on, “Ya know, Tobio coulda done that all by himself.”

“No, you were amazing. You were responsible for that match point of the fourth set. You played like a god.”

“Layin’ it on real thick, huh?”

“Are you feeling better?”

He shrugged, “Yea.”

You hugged him again, and he let out a relaxed, deep breath when he pulled you tightly against him, burying his face into the crook of your neck. He knows you’ll always cheer him on, no matter what.

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samoankpoper21 · 4 days ago

Text

loving your chubby body

↬ feat. higuruma hiromi, ino takuma, gojo satoru, geto suguru, kusakabe atsuya x gn afab!reader ↬ masterlist // ao3 version

cw: smut, pwp, reader has a vagina, piv sex for most of them, warnings wary per character (read them especially at geto's part), MINORS DNI a/n: repost from an old account. inspired by this art. divider by saradika

higuruma hiromi

cw: intercrural sex, clit stimulation

"Just a little more—" Hiromi's voice shatters with each breath. He's fighting brave but his own excitement is his greatest opponent, and each drag of his hips brings him closer to the delicious defeat.

With your thighs pressed tight together and bent over the kitchen counter, you're at mercy of his thrusts. This position is a little uncomfortable, your elbows will hate you for that later, but little do you care about it in the heat of the moment. It's happened too fast, too; one moment you're melting into your partner's embrace as he gently scoops you from behind and prompts his chin on your shoulder to see the work of your hands better—the other he's pounding into you like an animal in heat.

"Just—" He pants into your ear, chest flush to your back, both of his hands groping at your rolls and softness. Half-unbuckled belt digs into your exposed ass; he hasn't undone his pants properly, just moved clothes enough to slam himself against your slick.

He hasn't sunk himself inside though. The roll on top of your thick thighs, his beloved part of your body, bewitched him and swallowed the first, desperate thrust. He hasn't abandoned it since, forcing your legs to close and squeeze his cock in between. You feel it throbbing against your slit; he's hard, hot and gushing, right on the verge of finishing but somehow savoring the moment, only thanks to his stubborn temperance.

You would love to watch his fat tip poking through your clenched legs whenever he bottoms out. No chance for it in the current position, but from the sensation alone you can picture it—your own imagination has you drooling and needy.

"They're so soft..." Hiromi's voice is on the verge of crying. He nuzzles face into the back of your neck, teeth grazing your skin but not daring to take a bite. He's too busy fighting for air and chasing his pleasure.

He rocks himself whole against you, the sheer force of his moves forcing you into the counter and bruising your torso where it meets the edge. His arms around you tighten, his hands full of your chest and stomach, and his hips relentlessly meet your ass. He likes to take you from behind to watch it ripple but even this view can't rival the intoxicating warmth of your thick thighs. He won't pull away even for a second, not before he's covered them with his cum, milked of everything he has for you tonight.

The way he whines your name, broken 'I love you's and praises spells the finish—but Hiromi is stronger than that. He powers through it, almost crushing you in his arms all the way he can wrap them around you, and finds a new reserve of energy to rut into you with fresh pacing and angle. He's pressed closer to your cunt now, so close he's almost slipping in, but he's too lost in it to focus and buckle down to it a little more.

He can bump your clit right now, though, unintentionally edging you both together and eventually breaking you into moans and spasms, your legs too weak to withstand your weight and his enthusiasm.

"Keep it for me—" He growls when you start to falter, yanking you into the right position with impatience you would never suspect him of. "Please."

ino takuma

cw: weight-related insecurity, face-sitting talk, against the wall

"Why not?"

You wonder if Takuma is aware how soppy he looks now, cheek nuzzled into your thigh and looking up at you with a mix of shock and pleading in his eye. Just a moment earlier he's been relentlessly building up the churning in your abdomen with hasty kisses and greedy work of his tongue; his breath is still short after endless adoration of your rolls and curves. It's soothing the fresh hickey right under the edge of your groin, place that's stopped him in his tracks once he took a whiff of you, daring him to jump on you with an unexpected and selfish request.

"I don't want to— You know." You flounder between still heavy breathing and explanations. The answer is obvious with how there's nothing hidden between you two, all insecurities stripped naked for him, but it still doesn't want to pass your lips. As if you would crumble all of the courage and confidence you've built to be here with him if you admitted to the problem outright.

Takuma gets it and is having none of that at the same time.

"You think you could hurt me?" There's a shade of hurt ego behind his laughter. "Babe, please. You've seen the things I carried."

"Well... You've never carried me."

As if you ever let him, time after time escaping grabby and eager hands. Not in front of the others, not when you're wearing that, not when it's so hot, another day, another day, finally never. And you see it in the fire pushing the teary and pleading look in his eye away. His ego is one thing but being played like this right after being denied a delicious treat could not escape unpunished.

Still on his knees, Takuma hooks arms under your knees, still spread wide to fit his enthusiasm and adoration, and yanks you up. For a moment you're in the air with no support but your hands in panic grabbing any part of his body they could reach—but soon you find balance, supported by his strong grab on your ass. He holds you as if you were nothing, cheeky grin pushed right into your face as he's advancing on the nearest wall, soon having your back pushed against it, so tight and close you can't take a full breath anymore.

"If you don't want my face—" He adjusts the grip, having you with one arm while reaching down to align his cock with you— "we're gonna play this way."

You're dropped down just a little, enough to have him sinking inside with the help of gravity alone. Both of you groan in pleasure, your lips an inch away and soon meeting in a chaotic, wet kiss. He doesn't keep it for long, focused on raw and ruthless pacing, the deeper and faster the more you helplessly claw into his shoulders and back, your legs just useless and dangling by his sides.

"How are you feeling?" Takuma rasps into your neck, by no means tired, just barely restraining himself from destroying you right here, against the wall in the living room. "Still worried you're too heavy for my face?"

As if you could answer him, choking on moans, your eyes rolling back in your head on the deep and rough highway to your orgasm, the first of a few waiting for you tonight.

gojo satoru

cw: cowgirl, overstimulation, implied creampie

Your knees are slowly meeting their limit.

Luckily, this orgasm is not as strong, gently washing over you and having you shudder and sigh deep. Satoru holds you through it with patience, unheard of except intimate moments like these, but under the comforting pressure of his big hands creeps the insatiable need for more. You've been chasing him as best as you could, for the years you've been sleeping together already used to his habits and much better at this race than you were at the beginning—but in the end you're a human only.

No amount of stamina could ever satisfy the strongest.

He leans backwards but doesn't pull you with him, letting your bodies cool down each on their own. He's lying beneath you now, a delicious treat for your gaze. Disheveled, pink taint brushing his pale skin, sweat pearling all over his toned chest and abs, white happy trail wet with your juices, blindfold crooked and revealing one of his deep-blue eyes, following each move of yours with attention... You could never have enough of how pretty he is, of how lucky you are to have him like this for yourself only.

The swaying of your hips ceases, heaving of your chest the only move you have left for now. You feel discomfort in your knees, thighs and groin, not too much yet, but really close. If not for his girth still pulsing like mad deep in you, you would gladly help yourself and roll off him for a much-deserved rest. But after all those orgasms he's given you—well, mostly with the work of your body in his lap—it's just unfair to leave him unsatisfied. It's nothing you wouldn't solve with your hand or mouth, but you would not hear the end of it if your once-in-a-week treat for a whole night hadn't finished with him cum inside of you.

"C'mon, move a little." Satoru pokes your stomach, not so gently this time and smirking at your whine and a little wiggle of hips. He knows you adore when he's touching you there and he's gotten way too good at using it in his favor.

"Let me—" You haven't even collected your breathing and thoughts yet. "Just a moment, okay? Give me—"

With a bratty smirk, he plants heels into the bed and bumps you up, his huge cock finding a new angle to slide even deeper into you. Sudden spark of pleasure shakes your body whole, from eyes rolling in the back of your head to toes curling by his sides. When teetering on the edge of overstimulation, it's so easy to fall into another orgasm.

But you've withstood this one, hands clenched on his wrists so hard you mark his skin with your nails.

"Move," he orders half-heartedly, threatening with another thrust building in his hips—so you move, as much as your exhausted and strained legs let you.

It's enough for the insatiable beast for now. Pleased, Satoru pushes both hands against your stomach and kneads your rolls. At first, it's just a motivation for you to ride him faster. But something clicks and he's not teasing you anymore, blind and indifferent to everything but the feeling of your softness and the sight of your skin pouring around his fingers.

You test your luck, cease your moves again—just for the hold to squeeze you tighter and force you to pick the rhythm up. Hypnotized, Satoru is even more selfish and merciless.

geto suguru

cw: canon compliant geto, exhibitionism, cockwarming, dom/sub undertones, dumbification vibe, public sex, geto kills someone

The man kneeling in front of you two might have an idea what's going on, but he would never dare to let you know he's aware—yet to vocalize his confusion or indignation. He's sweating profoundly under the weight of Suguru's stare, mumbling chaotic explanations and excuses, his eyes transfixed on Suguru's feet.

You don't even know who that is and why has he's been dragged to writhe and babble. Before a different matter has occupied the top spot of your attention share, you've understood enough to recognize him as one of the windows sympathizing with the cause. But why did he fall from favor? Maybe it has been addressed already, maybe Suguru himself is not clued in enough, just treating the man as an excellent opportunity to play with you instead.

It doesn't matter. You're perched in his lap; you're engulfed by his greedy touch and perverse ideas. You're pressing against him with your whole weight, exactly as he likes, and squeezing his cock in your hot and tight hole.

Countless, wide layers of Suguru's clothes can cover your union with ease. Having one of his arms loosely wrapped around you, he hides the most of your body behind the sleeve. The other, resting on top of your lap, secures the rest. For a casual, lost eye, he's only holding you close, his favorite, his beloved toy, his doe-eyed innocent thing he treats like a comfort object. In reality, he's keeping you to cockwarm him in front of everyone who'll pass through this room until he'll be bored with torturing you and will take you on the same chair or on the floor next to it.

With no one around, if you're lucky.

As the man squirms on the floor, almost kissing it with the way he bows lower and lower, Suguru mindlessly traces your love handles. You twitch when he brushes a particularly ticklish spot and squeeze him even tighter. But you don't move, your face slotted in the crook of his neck, eyes focused on his handsome face and full of adoration. Part of you is terrified of delicious consequences, part wants to spare yourself overstimulation. With your nerves tense and teased relentlessly for what feels like hours, you're constantly on the edge of snapping. Even Suguru's breathing is like a torture; oh, what you would gladly give away to have him finally move and sate the fire between your legs.

"Did you hear him?" Suguru takes your chin into hand and brushes thumb against your slightly parted lips. When you can't stop the tiniest of mewls, he squeezes your cheeks, maybe with an encouragement, maybe with a warning. "What do you think, my sweetest, should we kill him?"

You roll your head further into him, feinting a whispered advice but in fact—wordlessly begging for this farce to end. You're meeting your limit, a minute more and you'll lose the last strand of dignity left in you and beg instead to be fucked right here and now, accidental voyeurs be damned.

"You're lucky I'm in a good mood today." Suguru's eyes rest on the man, now crying in relief and thanking him in the sweetest words, but the sentence is for your ears only.

Suguru turns the unwelcomed witness away with an impatient flick of a wrist, closes both arms around you tight even before he leaves the room. You hear a loud thud by the door when a curse pierces through the man's back, killing him instantly, but the aftertaste of reaction is faint and soon disappears midst Suguru's deep kisses.

kusakabe atsuya

cw: big breasts fetish, handjob, reader in lingerie

When you unclasp your bra and let your breast pour out of its confines, Atsuya throws everything he's been holding and pounces on you right away.

You haven't seen each other for a whole weekend—weekends should be crossed out of his agenda, but luck wasn't on your side this time—and you know it was rough to him. He put on a brave mask and casually brushed off all your proposals, from the facetime to exchanging nudes, but his curt messages and taut voice through the speaker just reeked of desperation. He's been pent up for a while now, crumbs of intimacy he stole from you along the week not enough to sate his libido.

Just to think he warned you beforehand that he might be too tired for you; since the day he's taken you for the first time you're the one who has to beg for mercy from his relentless desire.

You set a little trap. Lingerie Atsuya bought you for your anniversary hasn't been tested yet in action, its tight fit and very feminine appearance needing a particular opportunity and mood. Opportunity couldn't be better, the mood set itself as soon as his face went red and mouth agape at the sight. Work and travel exhaustion is gone in second—and the only thing you have to worry is whether the delicate lace will withstand how strong he grabs and pulls.

Atsuya buries his face into your bust straight away, no word said, no touch stolen from the other parts of your body—just a lewd moan muffled by your mounds and hands scooping them from sides to cushion himself better. He rubs himself into your warmth and scent, growls, pleased, when he catches your natural tinge not yet washed away after the day. The tent in his pants grows crazy fast; you don't lose a moment and free him as soon as he leaves you an opening for it.

He throbs against your palm so hard that you worry your surprise might be finished way too early. Atsuya withstands the temptation, somehow, but does nothing to control himself in any other way. He's more fucking your fist than letting you stroke him, his precum dripping down your fingers and turning your grip slick, almost too much.

Holding himself between your tits until he's out of breath, Atsuya finally peels away enough to look at you, "I missed you. I missed them."

He licks and sucks, peppers your breasts with kisses and hickeys until he settles on one of your nipples. He's rougher than usual, brushing at the line of discomfort and letting you feel his teeth; you will be too sensitive for a bra for a day or two to come, but you still pull on his hair and prompt him closer. You missed him. You missed that.

With the first hunger satisfied, you finally find the right, united rhythm. His hips slow down enough to let you work for him, your hold on him is gentler and leaving him more space and freedom. Atsuya is not going anywhere though, only once taking a sudden turn to kiss your neck, but the delicious valley between your breasts bewitches him again.

Both arms wrapped around you, hands adoring your love handles, he pulls you whole into him, having you perched in his lap, and groaning when you find a new angle to jerk him off. "I missed every piece of you."

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