ssorenz

[ssorenz]

LET’S HAVE THE SEX TALK, AY ⭑ .ᐟ

syn ⊹. in which teaching your 150y/o curse boyfriend the ways of the human life (and pleasure) goes surprisingly smooth.

cont ⊹. choso kamo x fem! reader, virgin!choso, oral (giving and receiving), premature ejac, afab!reader, NSFW CONTENT minors dni!!! wc: 1k

a/n⊹. virgin choso save me virgin choso 🙏 i wanted to post this since its been sitting in the drafts for so long omg

“baby, somethin- something’s wrong wit’ me. . .”

the half-curse invokes from your bedroom, his anxious timbre making you rush hurriedly down the hall—only to find him sat on the edge of your shared bed, blushing profusely with a small throw pillow covering his crotch.

ohhh.

you and choso had been together for about 6 months now, yet the two of you never had any sexual encounters, due to the fact that you wanted him to become more adjusted to human life before trying anything. but now with this certain issue at bay, you decided it was finally time.

you took a deep breath before recollecting yourself, taking a cushiony seat next to him, and explained to your boyfriend that what he was experiencing was utterly normal and nothing to be ashamed of.

"jus' make it stop, please. ."

oh, he doesn’t have to tell you twice.

and before you know it, you’re gravitating yourself lower, closer and closer towards his obviously growing erection. even through his pajama pants you can see how big he is. and you sure as hell weren’t wrong.

your lips form a perfect ‘o’ shape once he’s completely out of his boxers. an angry red mushroomed tip that’s practically dripping already— crystalline beads of pre down to his hefty pale base thats accented with a vein or two. and to think this was here the whole time…

“i-is something wrong?” choso inquires, a hint of worry in his tone. shifting your gaze upward, you could see his averted gaze and beet red cheeks from sheer embarrassment. you giggled softly, he was so cute when he was flustered.

“nuh uh, everything’s perfect. now, im going to do something, n’ you tell me if it feels good or not. okay?”

he swallows, before nodding eagerly in agreement, still averting his eyes from your figure below. lolling your tongue out, you licked a long warm stripe from the base to that oh-so sensitive tip of his. a poorly stifled moan could be heard from above as choso’s clawing at the downed sheets behind him, instantly stiffening up from this foreign euphoria.

"f-feels s’good," and he’s gasping out between breaths, eyes fluttering shut out of pure ecstasy. you smile around his cock, lips instinctively wrap around his sensitive head— giving small kitten licks before gradually taking more of him into your mouth. choso's hips begin to jerk up involuntarily as you begin stroking him with your tongue, the heat of your mouth making him twitch inside. a delicate hand of his finds its way entangled inside of your hair, holding you in place as if he’s beginning to lose himself completely, giving in to the bliss.

choso's resounding moans become more and more frequent as you work your way down, taking more of him into your mouth with each pass. his hips beginning to thrust upwards, meeting the rhythm of your bobbing head.

he dares to open his eyes— and that was his biggest mistake.

seeing you on your knees, eyes virtually glowing with pure lust in this low lighting, gazing up at him ever so tenderly yet seductively. taking him down your throat with little to no effort, god it was enough to make him-

“sh-shiitt!” and ropes of his warm essence are rudely painting the back of your throat as he’s spasming in your mouth, cum trickling down onto your tongue when he pulls out. his breathing is still uneven, chest rising and falling rapidly as he’s trying to recover while you’re sitting pretty with a coy grin plastered on your face. “how was that, cho? did it fee—”

“w-wanna try it on you… please?”

and now the roles are reversed, your legs hooked over his shoulders as he’s kneeling infront of your bare cunny.

he leans in, warm breath tickling against your inner thighs, nervously dangling his tongue out before swiftly flicking it just on your clitoris, causing you to groan.

and that first taste has him hooked. he latches himself onto the bud of your clit, similarly to how you did moments prior. it’s barely been seconds and he’s delved nose-deep into your wetness. he wasn’t all that sure about what he was doing, but telling from the way you were so vocal, mantras of his name echoing throughout his ears, he was doing a damn good job.

there was that feeling yet again— that strain in his boxers as his crotch pooled with a familiar warmth. he looked down and sure enough, there was again a strained tent pitched in his pants.

and his body's moving faster than his mind, his hand’s already snaked down to his boxers, palming himself through the cottony fabric. muffled guttural groans evading through parted lips as he’s drinking up your candily sweet juices, all while his hand’s wrapped around his stiffened length. trying so hard to replicate the sensation of your warm, wet mouth that was just present moments ago.

hips stuttering in sync with his rhythms, as your hand is engulfed in his ravenated strands, broken cacophonous moans of his name string from your mouth as your grinding along the heat of his tongue—leaving your pussy drooling, glassy slick dripping down the man's coated chin.

"haah—ch-cho, doin' so good..." your praise only riles him up even more, his pace picking up, becoming more and more lost in a daze. tongue darting in and out of your cunt with quick precision, teasing every sensitive spot it managed to find.

you feel your stomach tightening, the creeping sensation of your climax approaching ever so hurriedly. and it hits you like a crashing wave as one final thrust from choso’s tongue puts you right over the edge, body shuddering as it washes over you.

he can’t hold back much longer either as his cock is aching. and with a few last frantic, sloppy jerks, he finally pulls away from your cunt as loads of his cum spill into his boxers.

gasping for air himself, he looks up at you through strands of his sweaty hair before proposing the question that makes even your worn-out expression morph into something much more fitting— shocked, if you will.

“c-can we go again?”

ssorenz™ 2024, do not repost, translate or copy.

[ssorenz]

༯ warnings. mature content, fem!reader + toji fushiguro, unprotected sēx, piv, pwp. minors do not interact, please and thank u.

wc. 1.7k (not proofread 🥸)

toji fushiguro is a nice guy.

not in the annoying “i’m a nice guy why won’t women date me” way, but in the “i’ll fix your sink, walk your dog, and probably kill a man for you if you say please” kinda way.

the ex-assassin (and your next door neighbor) is always doing something for someone— mowing the lawn for mrs. takada across the street, teaching the neighborhood kids how to patch a flat tire like he’s not patched gunshot wounds with duct tape before. probably hand-knits blankets for stray cats behind closed doors too.

so when he sees you wrestling with a massive ikea box on your porch that you honestly never stood a chance against in the first place, he doesn’t even hesitate.

“fuck is in here, a whole corpse or somethin’?” he jokes, like he didn’t just pluck the box from your arms, like it was filled with feathers and not the broken promises of swedish furniture.

you give him an airy laugh, wiping sweat from your brow as you tell him it’s your new bed from ikea.

“ikea?” he repeats, like you just told him it really was a corpse in that god forsaken box. “yeah, nah. you’re not building that.”

you blink. “i’m not?”

“uh, did i not just say no? i’ll handle it. don’t want a pretty lil’ thing like you losing a finger over some overpriced planks and an allen wrench.”

and listen. you could’ve argued. you could’ve said you’re an independent woman, with your crappy youtube tutorials and a rusty ol’ hammer.

but instead you just say,

“. . .do you want water or beer?”

god, you swear your bedroom has never felt this small.

toji’s presence takes up space like he was built for it—one knee down, the other bent, thighs straining against those well-worn jeans like they’re one bad movement from tearing right at the seams. his tank is drenched, clinging like it’s got a personal vendetta, outlining every broad inch of him like a glove.

he’s hunched over the partially assembled bed, brows furrowed, scarred lips parted in quiet concentration like he’s studying scripture, not step six of some swedish-coded nightmare.

and it’s filthy, the way your brain strayed, drinking in the way he moved—tight, efficient, obscene without even trying.

every low grunt, every flex of his arms, every time he shifts and that heavy chain around his neck clinks against sweat-slick skin—it’s like you're watching the start of a bad porno.

your gaze drops, uninvited, right to the swell of his chest—broad and heaving—and lower, past the way his shirt clings to his dreadfully slutty waist, all the way to the waistband of his jeans.

the way they sit, low and loose, slung across those hips like temptation incarnate—

“you good over there, sweetheart?” his voice breaks through the haze, all casual and smug. “been eyein’ me reeaall hard over there.”

you choke.

“oh, uh—i was…” you mutter, blinking like an idiot, “just… making sure you’re not screwing m- it up.”

he hums, not even looking at you, allenkey twisting slow in his grip.

“mm. real thorough inspection you’re doing.”

your a/c is blasting, full arctic tundra, and yet here you are—skin flushed, thighs clenched, your mind absolutely nosediving into the filthiest trenches imaginable.

you open your mouth about to retort back, but he cuts you off with a simple, expectant:

“wrench.”

just that. hand out. palm grasping. not even looking at you.

you pass him the tool, and your fingers brush his. his hand is warm, rough - those thick, ragged fingers that have probably shot bullets into yakuza leaders skulls, probably broken bones, lingering just a beat too long.

and suddenly you’re not thinking about this stupid swedish furniture anymore.

you’re thinking about those same fingers digging into your hips.

gripping the back of your neck.

pressing into your thigh as he—

“you gonna let go, or you just like holdin’ my hand?”

you snap out of your. . trance, retracting your hand like the wrench had transformed into molten lava and burned it. “just um, didn’t wanna drop it. s-safety first, right?”

“riight, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

even though it’s your bed, he hasn’t let you touch a single piece of it. 

not one panel. not one sad screw.

and it’s not like you didn’t offer to help—you did, multiple times!

yet every single time, he just waved you off like you were a gnat.

“jus’ sit n’ look pretty. this ain’t a group project,” he utters, dead serious. you open your mouth once more to argue, and all he sends you is a glare— playful, yet still warning.

and after three long, sweaty hours,

you—

no.

he is finally done.

toji leans back on his heels, wiping beads of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand “there,” he grunts, satisfied. “all done miss.”

you glance at the bed. it does look good. solid. intimidatingly so. 

“looks sturdy,” you murmur, and toji hums in agreement. thick fingers drag slow over his stubbled chin as he leans back, marveling at his piece of work.“mm. might wanna test it out first, though.”

you blink. “…test it?”

he nods, rolling his shoulders, towering and terrible, that glint in his eye nothing short of criminal.

“how ‘bout i help ya out, yeah? call it uhh, ‘mandatory safety inspection’ .”

ᥫ᭡.

“ngh, to-tojiii,” you mewl, nails grasping helplessly at the cushioned mattress beneath you, your glossed dolly eyes fluttering back with each filthy fuckin’ thrust. his strokes are relentless, sharp, each one leaving a raucous snap from his toned v-line on your poor sore thighs.

for such a ‘sweet’ and ‘beloved’ guy, his dick game sure was mean as hell.

“atta girl, look at that,” he grunts, “takin’ me so fuckin’ well.”

your swollen bottom lip is caught between your teeth, an embarrassingly desperate attempt at concealing these lewd noises toji is managing to string out of your chest.

but with the way he’s fucking into you like this, those calloused, worn palms spreading the fat of your ass to give him a front-row view of how his cock is sinking in and out of you, before raising his hand to give it a nice hefty spank—

it’d be damn near impossible to not stay quiet.

your body feels so hot, practically melting as your spine arches further with each roll of his firm hips. the pads of his fingers are digging into the plush of your waist, burning against your skin like he’s trying to brand you with his hands alone.

toji sloows his pace, not enough to give you a break, but enough to make sure you feel all ten inches of him, that evilly thick stretch making your walls stutter. his chest dips down your spine, peppered stubble scratching at the nape of your neck as his full weight sinks over you.

“uh uh, shhh,” toji croons hotly, his breath warm as he leaves a wet kiss along the shell of your ear, “you hear that?”

“h-huh?” you hiccup, and he’s got you soo dumb off his dick that your surprised your still coherent.

“girl. listen.”

and you do. or try to, atleast.

your breathing slows just enough to catch it, between the wet slaps of skin and your pulse bursting in your ears—

creak… creak… creak….

“looks like she’s startin’ to talk,” he murmurs. “guess i forgot to tighten all the screws. oops.”

haha. you'd roll your eyes if they weren’t already damn near in your skull.

toji’s body shifts, swole chest hefted on your back as his beefy arms cage you in. he’s got one hand curled around your wrist, pinning it to the matress, while the other bruisingly grips your waist.

your plushed thighs quiver, ass rippling back with each fluid snap of his hips. he’s so deep, his entire length bottoming out in your sobbing cunt. landing countless blow after blow on that poor spongy spot of yours.

“f-fuuck,” it slips out breathy, caught between a gasp and a whine, your voice cracking with each draaag of his cock. “s’too much— i can’t—”

“yea you can,” toji huffs. “already are.”

creaking turns into clattering, death rattles now, and he’s still not stopping nor slowing. every hit leaves the mattress screaming, legs of the frame wobbling as it lurches underneath the weight of you both.

and your bed isn’t the only thing ready to give out eithet.

“ ‘m gonna, hnnghh— m’ gonna cumm, toj’ ” you sob, shuddering as your core tightens.

“shiit, thaaat’s it,” he pants as your pussy swallows him oh so snugly, and you can feel him start to throb inside of you. “ let ‘toj’ feel you cum ‘round his cock, baby.”

toji’s strokes sloppen, grinding now, likes he’s trying to engrave each and every inch of his cock into your unforgivingly tight cunt. your hips begin to spasm as your pretty glossed lips sputter out mindless, repetitive catches of his name.

he sends one more thrust, mean and s—

crack!

that poor lil’ ikea bed of yours sinks beneath you with a jarring snap, the headboard dipping rudely as one stubby leg snaps completely off— making you and toji slip forward with it.

you yelp, yet it slips into a broken moan as splotches of white fill your blurred vision, body jerking as your saccharine juices spill out onto him.

you let out a pouty whine, lashes fluttering as toji groans, gutturally, his posture stiffening, jaw hanging slack before you feel him begin to spill into you—sticky hazed shades of white rudely painting your insides like his own personal canvas.

the scent of sweat and sex hangs heavily in the air, the only sounds being you and toji left panting. he stills momentarily, assuring his sticky load is plunged deep enough inside of you before easing out with a sharp hiss.

“guess she, uh, failed the inspection,” clicking his tongue as he breaks the silence, acting all disappointed despite the way he’s grinning like a fucking fool— as if he didn’t just knock all you and your beds screws loose.

“you’re buying me a new bed.” you mutter, voice hoarse as your shooting him a mascara stained glare over your shoulder.

“ ya’ gonna let me break her in too?”

and it’s not like you decline— it’d be rude if you did. .

because toji fushiguro is a nice guy, after all.

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

[ssorenz]

TYSMM FOR 14K WHAT????

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.

[ssorenz]

THIS THEME IS GORGEOUS WHATTTTTTTT

GAHHH THANK YOUU MS. PIED 🙈🙈

[ssorenz]

i absolutely ADORED ur dilf!nanami fic >_< it was so amazinggg 🥹 so.. i was wondering if u could do smth like a little pt. 2?? like e.x i didn't have much in mind except what if it became a daily thing for exes dad n reader to sneak around tgt :33 im yearning to js see more of him!! if u want details or anything pls lmk but id js love more of dad nanami ٩>ᴗ<)و

THANK UU SMSM!! im soso glad u enjoyed it, and AWHEH ur too sweett <33 i definitely will be writing a continuation of dilf! nanami very very soon due to popular demand, so worry nawt

[ssorenz]

hi, sorry if i’m bothering, but what happened to your bb geto and nerd gojo threesum

hey, ur totally finee, im just reworkin it a bit!! it should be republished soon dw :)

[ssorenz]

SOUTH AFRICAN JJK WRITER??? MY PEOPLE ! MY PEOPLE

AHHH A FELLOW SOUTH AFRICAN TUMBLRR HEY GIRLL HRUU? 🙈

[ssorenz]

How about a CEO reader x Gojo/ Sukuna, please? You don't have to, but I'm kinda in the mood for something like that, so I'll really appreciate it if you could! THANKS!! X3

oooou ceo sukuna, ceo sukuna…… i have an idea

[ssorenz]

AWHHH THANK YOU SO MUCHHH!! 🥹 i’m sososo glad u enjoyed why should i be sad ohmygoshshs

jjk fics that have my whole heart

As time goes on, more will be added!

ryomen sukuna

he's (not) my man @indiewritesxoxo

in a last ditch effort to save your family's failing ranch, your father arranges your marriage to a man you've never met. now you've got an even bigger problem - a six foot something one who clearly can't stand you either. looks like navigating newlywed life is going to be a little tough when he's already talking about divorce! (series)

knocked out up @indiewritesxoxo

getting back shots in someone else's bed post-breakup is fun - until you have a bump to show for it a few months later (series)

she wont go away @saatorus

of all the people in your chemistry course, you get stuck with ryomen sukuna—the most insufferable, arrogant asshole on campus. he barely does any work, runs his mouth like it’s a sport, and somehow manages to make your life even more exhausting than it already is. if this project doesn’t kill you, he just might. (26k)

unsaid dreams @puppybei

Reader opens up a bakery after running away from her three year relationship with Sukuna, effectively ghosting him and hiding away in the middle of the countryside. Unknown to Sukuna, reader also had a baby, and now is living peacefully until an unfateful meeting starts to pull her back into the life she so desperately escaped from. (series)

not just anybody @yenayaps

on the rare occasion that sukuna takes his nephew out to the park, he notices another kid with blush pink hair— a baby to be exact. he tries not to stare too much, but it’s hard not to, it’s a rare hair color. it’s not until the baby’s mother takes her out of the swing set and back into her stroller when he realizes why you ghosted him almost 2 years ago. (series)

what you know @starampz

you've heard his reputation and you've seen first-hand the way he's late to class if he even bothers to show up. paired with him for the most important project of the year, you choose to give him the benefit of the doubt- but maybe that's more than he deserves when your perfect grades depend on him, or maybe there's more to the aloof and irritable sukuna than meets the eye (series)

satoru gojo

soft as it began @gojover

district four’s only victors—satoru gojo, dazzling and deadly, and you, cunning and stubborn—are dragged back into the arena for the quarter quell. with the capitol watching and a rebellion brewing, the hunger games are no longer just about survival. they’re about trust, betrayal, and the unresolved past that still burns between you. (tbd)

law of attraction @shokocide

Newton said the smaller the distance, the stronger the pull. Gojo Satoru thinks that explains the way he feels when you’re close. (18.2k)

just friends @madamechrissy

a guide to ditching the world's most persistent nerd @sixeyesonathiel

gojo satoru has been the bane of your existence since kindergarten. he rejected your chocolates, ignored your attempts at friendship, and solidified himself as the most insufferable nerd you've ever met. years later, you're a party girl with a trust fund and a talent for avoidance, and he's still everywhere—top of his class, heir to an empire, and somehow, still your problem. (series)

love comes in small sizes @sixeyesonathiel

you and gojo satoru have always been a thing—never defined, never simple. he’s reckless with his wounds (and your heart), you’re the only one who can patch him up, and neither of you will admit what you really want.

but when life tears you apart, the universe sends a tiny, glitter-covered reminder that some bonds can’t stay broken forever. (series)

free throws and figure drawings @sixeyesonathiel

satoru gojo is many things—basketball star player, campus menace, objectively the best-looking guy in any room—but he is not a model. so when you, some quiet, intense art student, shove a flyer in his face and ask him to pose for a painting, his first instinct is to laugh. his second instinct is to say no.

it’s supposed to be easy money. sit still, look pretty, collect cash. but between your infuriating perfectionism, your absolute refusal to be flustered by him, and the way you stare like you’re trying to figure him out, satoru starts to suspect he’s in way over his head (22k)

coming down @writesvani

You and Gojo Satoru were once everything to each other, but now, the space between you is filled with nothing but silence and resentment. College is just a reminder of how far you’ve drifted apart, and every encounter only adds fuel to the fire.

You avoid him like the plague, but it doesn’t matter. You can still feel him in the shadows, always there, always watching, as if the past was never really gone. So what do you do? You (try to) keep your distance, pretending it’s easy to forget the history that’s weighed you down for so long.

But deep down, neither of you can let go. And as the tension between you grows, you’re forced to confront the truth: some things are never truly buried, no matter how hard you try. (series)

velvet lies @joemama-2

crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. (series)

it girl @sixxels

you were his most well kept secret, scrolling your instagram for hours on end, collecting each and every magazine that you'd ever featured in, satoru was obsessed with you, the gorgeous goddess who just so happened to go to his university. what happens when he sees you struggling to reach a book in the library and plucks up enough courage to finally go up and talk to you? how will the resident bad boy sukuna disrupt his fever dream come true? (20.1k)

it girl pt.2 @sixxels

you’re the campus icon, glamorous, untouchable, always in the spotlight. but your world tilts when you fall for satoru gojo, awkward, brilliant, weirdly hot. what starts with flirty banter spirals into unexpected intimacy, and something real. you invite him into your life, your world, even your heart. but your past isn’t finished. sukuna, your toxic, magnetic almost-ex, crashes back in with chaos and temptation. now, torn between danger and devotion, you face a choice, the storm you know or the calm you crave. (14k)

hot nerd summer @tonycries

The best way to beat your tall, nerdy, hot academic rival during finals? Fúck him! (11.2k)

the otaku is mine @blkkizzat

bunny, how on earth did you end up dating this huge otaku nerd? urgh, you actually like him and match his freak too? and he buys you what?! omg! what will your friends think?! (Series)

hotline bling @satorena

wine nights and free will? a recipe for disaster— such as matching your ex on a corny dating app and having him in your bed within that same hour. . .

megumi fushiguro

lets play ball @lokissweater

“ won’t you kiss me on the mouth and love me like a sailor? ” 　(series)

not even a little @gumii-bearr

megumi fushiguro is your roommate, he's also a scary guy... a scary guy that's weak for you. (13.8k)

i'm already yours @gumii-bearr

megumi learns to be honest with you and tell you what he wants. (9.3k)

you hitting on me? @gumii-bearr

megumi doesn't like clubs, but then he sees you. (4k)

kigatsukeba @manicpixiedreamkira

suguru geto

no. one party anthem @indiewritesxoxo

your best friend has always been an asshole - whether it's in his band or in his bed. him ditching you? nothing new. but when one bedroom door closes, another one opens (series) ft. ryomen sukuna

how to baby trap marry your best friend @indiewritesxoxo

best friend or baby daddy, one thing's for sure, you're not getting rid of him!

all i need @dihydromorphinone

well - your high school teachers warned you. college sucks - it's hard, unforgiving and ruthless. and you have to pay for it. ha! but.. there is some good to it, you think, as you see your psychology professor - and damn, he's hot. as fuck.

it seems that fate had some mercy on you; your major is psychology, so you'll be spending most of your time at the university at his lectures. and he's such a fucking eye-candy. but little did you know... fate binding you two together was not an act of mercy, no - rather ruthless cruelty, because your crush on the professor seems to develop. but you can't cross that line, right? ...right? (series)

choso kamo

hey emo boy! @gojonanami

saw this boy at the mall last week. got the kind of look to make me freak. wanna fuck in the back of the hot topic? (5.3k)

hey, emo boy! @shokocide

Choso doesn’t do distractions. But then you walk into his show and ruin his focus with one look. And now, he’s handing you his guitar, his heart, maybe more. And baby, you haven’t even seen what those fingers can really do.(10.5k)

nanami kento

the triwizard tournament for the beau of idiocy @mahowaga

you're supposed to be in the stands, eating snacks and talking strategy with your friends, enjoying watching the three champions battle for the triwizard cup. you're not supposed to be entangled in what seems to be your own personal (hell) triwizard tournament. (series)

why should i be sad? (when i could just fuck his dad!) @ssorenz

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! (3.5k)

toji fushiguro

cherry waves @strawberry-nugget

Technically this should be your fresh start. Moving to Japan as a single mom and getting a regular job, living the peaceful life you've always wanted. But trouble finds you in every corner, taking either the form of those weird monstrous things you catch in a blurry half gaze occasionally, or of that extremely hot single dad, whose son, Megumi is friends with your daughter.

[ssorenz]

༯ warnings. mature content, fem!reader + toji fushiguro, unprotected sēx, piv, pwp. minors do not interact, please and thank u.

wc. 1.7k (not proofread 🥸)

toji fushiguro is a nice guy.

not in the annoying “i’m a nice guy why won’t women date me” way, but in the “i’ll fix your sink, walk your dog, and probably kill a man for you if you say please” kinda way.

the ex-assassin (and your next door neighbor) is always doing something for someone— mowing the lawn for mrs. takada across the street, teaching the neighborhood kids how to patch a flat tire like he’s not patched gunshot wounds with duct tape before. probably hand-knits blankets for stray cats behind closed doors too.

so when he sees you wrestling with a massive ikea box on your porch that you honestly never stood a chance against in the first place, he doesn’t even hesitate.

“fuck is in here, a whole corpse or somethin’?” he jokes, like he didn’t just pluck the box from your arms, like it was filled with feathers and not the broken promises of swedish furniture.

you give him an airy laugh, wiping sweat from your brow as you tell him it’s your new bed from ikea.

“ikea?” he repeats, like you just told him it really was a corpse in that god forsaken box. “yeah, nah. you’re not building that.”

you blink. “i’m not?”

“uh, did i not just say no? i’ll handle it. don’t want a pretty lil’ thing like you losing a finger over some overpriced planks and an allen wrench.”

and listen. you could’ve argued. you could’ve said you’re an independent woman, with your crappy youtube tutorials and a rusty ol’ hammer.

but instead you just say,

“. . .do you want water or beer?”

god, you swear your bedroom has never felt this small.

toji’s presence takes up space like he was built for it—one knee down, the other bent, thighs straining against those well-worn jeans like they’re one bad movement from tearing right at the seams. his tank is drenched, clinging like it’s got a personal vendetta, outlining every broad inch of him like a glove.

he’s hunched over the partially assembled bed, brows furrowed, scarred lips parted in quiet concentration like he’s studying scripture, not step six of some swedish-coded nightmare.

and it’s filthy, the way your brain strayed, drinking in the way he moved—tight, efficient, obscene without even trying.

every low grunt, every flex of his arms, every time he shifts and that heavy chain around his neck clinks against sweat-slick skin—it’s like you're watching the start of a bad porno.

your gaze drops, uninvited, right to the swell of his chest—broad and heaving—and lower, past the way his shirt clings to his dreadfully slutty waist, all the way to the waistband of his jeans.

the way they sit, low and loose, slung across those hips like temptation incarnate—

“you good over there, sweetheart?” his voice breaks through the haze, all casual and smug. “been eyein’ me reeaall hard over there.”

you choke.

“oh, uh—i was…” you mutter, blinking like an idiot, “just… making sure you’re not screwing m- it up.”

he hums, not even looking at you, allenkey twisting slow in his grip.

“mm. real thorough inspection you’re doing.”

your a/c is blasting, full arctic tundra, and yet here you are—skin flushed, thighs clenched, your mind absolutely nosediving into the filthiest trenches imaginable.

you open your mouth about to retort back, but he cuts you off with a simple, expectant:

“wrench.”

just that. hand out. palm grasping. not even looking at you.

you pass him the tool, and your fingers brush his. his hand is warm, rough - those thick, ragged fingers that have probably shot bullets into yakuza leaders skulls, probably broken bones, lingering just a beat too long.

and suddenly you’re not thinking about this stupid swedish furniture anymore.

you’re thinking about those same fingers digging into your hips.

gripping the back of your neck.

pressing into your thigh as he—

“you gonna let go, or you just like holdin’ my hand?”

you snap out of your. . trance, retracting your hand like the wrench had transformed into molten lava and burned it. “just um, didn’t wanna drop it. s-safety first, right?”

“riight, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

even though it’s your bed, he hasn’t let you touch a single piece of it. 

not one panel. not one sad screw.

and it’s not like you didn’t offer to help—you did, multiple times!

yet every single time, he just waved you off like you were a gnat.

“jus’ sit n’ look pretty. this ain’t a group project,” he utters, dead serious. you open your mouth once more to argue, and all he sends you is a glare— playful, yet still warning.

and after three long, sweaty hours,

you—

no.

he is finally done.

toji leans back on his heels, wiping beads of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand “there,” he grunts, satisfied. “all done miss.”

you glance at the bed. it does look good. solid. intimidatingly so. 

“looks sturdy,” you murmur, and toji hums in agreement. thick fingers drag slow over his stubbled chin as he leans back, marveling at his piece of work.“mm. might wanna test it out first, though.”

you blink. “…test it?”

he nods, rolling his shoulders, towering and terrible, that glint in his eye nothing short of criminal.

“how ‘bout i help ya out, yeah? call it uhh, ‘mandatory safety inspection’ .”

ᥫ᭡.

“ngh, to-tojiii,” you mewl, nails grasping helplessly at the cushioned mattress beneath you, your glossed dolly eyes fluttering back with each filthy fuckin’ thrust. his strokes are relentless, sharp, each one leaving a raucous snap from his toned v-line on your poor sore thighs.

for such a ‘sweet’ and ‘beloved’ guy, his dick game sure was mean as hell.

“atta girl, look at that,” he grunts, “takin’ me so fuckin’ well.”

your swollen bottom lip is caught between your teeth, an embarrassingly desperate attempt at concealing these lewd noises toji is managing to string out of your chest.

but with the way he’s fucking into you like this, those calloused, worn palms spreading the fat of your ass to give him a front-row view of how his cock is sinking in and out of you, before raising his hand to give it a nice hefty spank—

it’d be damn near impossible to not stay quiet.

your body feels so hot, practically melting as your spine arches further with each roll of his firm hips. the pads of his fingers are digging into the plush of your waist, burning against your skin like he’s trying to brand you with his hands alone.

toji sloows his pace, not enough to give you a break, but enough to make sure you feel all ten inches of him, that evilly thick stretch making your walls stutter. his chest dips down your spine, peppered stubble scratching at the nape of your neck as his full weight sinks over you.

“uh uh, shhh,” toji croons hotly, his breath warm as he leaves a wet kiss along the shell of your ear, “you hear that?”

“h-huh?” you hiccup, and he’s got you soo dumb off his dick that your surprised your still coherent.

“girl. listen.”

and you do. or try to, atleast.

your breathing slows just enough to catch it, between the wet slaps of skin and your pulse bursting in your ears—

creak… creak… creak….

“looks like she’s startin’ to talk,” he murmurs. “guess i forgot to tighten all the screws. oops.”

haha. you'd roll your eyes if they weren’t already damn near in your skull.

toji’s body shifts, swole chest hefted on your back as his beefy arms cage you in. he’s got one hand curled around your wrist, pinning it to the matress, while the other bruisingly grips your waist.

your plushed thighs quiver, ass rippling back with each fluid snap of his hips. he’s so deep, his entire length bottoming out in your sobbing cunt. landing countless blow after blow on that poor spongy spot of yours.

“f-fuuck,” it slips out breathy, caught between a gasp and a whine, your voice cracking with each draaag of his cock. “s’too much— i can’t—”

“yea you can,” toji huffs. “already are.”

creaking turns into clattering, death rattles now, and he’s still not stopping nor slowing. every hit leaves the mattress screaming, legs of the frame wobbling as it lurches underneath the weight of you both.

and your bed isn’t the only thing ready to give out eithet.

“ ‘m gonna, hnnghh— m’ gonna cumm, toj’ ” you sob, shuddering as your core tightens.

“shiit, thaaat’s it,” he pants as your pussy swallows him oh so snugly, and you can feel him start to throb inside of you. “ let ‘toj’ feel you cum ‘round his cock, baby.”

toji’s strokes sloppen, grinding now, likes he’s trying to engrave each and every inch of his cock into your unforgivingly tight cunt. your hips begin to spasm as your pretty glossed lips sputter out mindless, repetitive catches of his name.

he sends one more thrust, mean and s—

crack!

that poor lil’ ikea bed of yours sinks beneath you with a jarring snap, the headboard dipping rudely as one stubby leg snaps completely off— making you and toji slip forward with it.

you yelp, yet it slips into a broken moan as splotches of white fill your blurred vision, body jerking as your saccharine juices spill out onto him.

you let out a pouty whine, lashes fluttering as toji groans, gutturally, his posture stiffening, jaw hanging slack before you feel him begin to spill into you—sticky hazed shades of white rudely painting your insides like his own personal canvas.

the scent of sweat and sex hangs heavily in the air, the only sounds being you and toji left panting. he stills momentarily, assuring his sticky load is plunged deep enough inside of you before easing out with a sharp hiss.

“guess she, uh, failed the inspection,” clicking his tongue as he breaks the silence, acting all disappointed despite the way he’s grinning like a fucking fool— as if he didn’t just knock all you and your beds screws loose.

“you’re buying me a new bed.” you mutter, voice hoarse as your shooting him a mascara stained glare over your shoulder.

“ ya’ gonna let me break her in too?”

and it’s not like you decline— it’d be rude if you did. .

because toji fushiguro is a nice guy, after all.

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

[ssorenz]

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.

[ssorenz]

Don’t forget to credit chat gpt for your works❤️

LMFAOO is this my first hate comment?.. 🤷🏽‍♀️

all jokes aside… all of my works are written by me, myself, and i, thank you very much. i do NOT condone the use of ai, especially being implemented into any forms of writing, including my own.

[ssorenz]

oh ur so evil for this.

satoru gojo left behind a wife and infant baby girl.

the day it happened, he promised he’d come back to you. you held onto him tightly, pleading with him not to go, not to leave you. but he had to, you both knew that. however your trust that he would return is what kept you going.

you almost didn’t even want to watch the livestream. you wish you hadn’t.

seeing your husband die right in front of your eyes, seeing him take his last breath, it broke you. nothing could prepare someone to lose the one they love. nothing could prepare you for the amount of grief you were suddenly pushed into, the darkness that overtook your once bright world.

you began to wish your daughter looked more like you instead of him. because that way, you wouldn’t have to wake up to his carbon copy crying for her mother while you yourself were on the verge of tears because they just looked so much alike.

how were you supposed to be strong and push through day by day when it felt like it was all for naught? how could you continue life without your other half?

the only thing you found yourself looking forward to everyday you woke up was your sweet baby girl’s laughs. the innocence it held, the way her eyes crinkled, the way it brought you a sense of warmth.

you’d always hear her laugh right next to your ear after visiting your husband for your weekly visit, leaving white roses by his gravestone. sometimes you wondered why she would laugh. maybe it’s just her being an adorable baby, maybe it’s at the airplane that flew above you two.

or maybe it’s the ghost of her father who stood beside his own grave, making silly faces at his daughter that he knew she loved, waving bye and with a promise he’ll see her again next week. her hand reaches out for him, and his towards his two favorite girls.

[ssorenz]

ceo gojo this, ceo gojo that, what about ceo reader and assistant gojo? 💔

[ssorenz]

KENDRICK DROP ANOTHER DISS TRACK AND MY LIFE IS YOURS!! I've just spent my afternoon reading all your works!!!

Please can we get more college Satosuguxreader? Drabbles or oneshotss 🫣🫣

AWHH thank you so muchh ur tew kind, i hope u enjoyed themm!

and YESS there will definitely be some more of them in the (hopefully not teww distant) future i had sm fun writing their about that dynamic 🙂‍↕️

[ssorenz]

nerd! gojo and basketball player/ jock geto..