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screampied · 5 months ago

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𝜗𝜚 P*$$Y FAIRY ?!

☆ sum. when you said you wanted to ‘milk him’ for all that he’s worth, he didn’t think you meant actually! toji, nanami, sukuna, choso, geto, gojo.

warnings. fem! reader, unprotected, LOTSSS of cum and balls and more… cum, milkin’ them dry, cowboy! toji, camboy! choso, condom breaks, sukuna lactates, nipplę play, slight usage of "mommy", cowgirl / reverse, bręeding, overstim, whiny whipped men, pregnancy mentions, praise, implied multiple rounds.

SUKUNA ★ RYOMEN.

“h- hah, got.. some nerve,” sukuna growls, a good portion of his face burning with crimsoned embarrassment. sukuna’s securely strapped to his throne—and to top it all off, you had him wrapped in pink ribbons. sukuna’s brawny frame underneath you grew stiff, and he let out a shallow groan once you lecherously wind your hips back ‘round in a circle. he felt sooo full - his base was just pleading to be dumped, dumped inside of you for the third time.

not only were you milking him - you were also milking his pride too.

“brat, you’re gettin’ off on this arentcha?” sukuna grumbles with a pout, hearing each popping plap slap from between your dripping wet thighs. from to the very plump bottom, his cock’s already still a bit foamy from earlier. you lean into his bare chest, smugly snickering against his neck. “mmm- ffuuuck, don’t . . don’t stop though. that’s an orde-”

and right as he’s grunting mid-sentence, sukuna pauses. carmine eyes flicker at a sudden head that’s leisurely lowering against his pecs. it’s you, and as you’re still bouncing on his lap, he feels your wet, hot tongue slide a path across his sensitive nipple. “ngh-” sukuna’s nostrils flare, and it’s taking almost everything within him to not whine.

until he does.

your hips roll roll roooolls around in swift, addictive circles as you cup your lips around his pec. “mmh,” you hummed, feeling his big body writhe underneath you as your hips slowed their tempo. you could hear his cute growls as he couldn’t do anything but sit right — the pink, pretty ribbons were straight-up mockery.

sukuna could have honestly just torn them apart - besides, they weren’t even properly tied around his limbs (which he secretly found cute) but he decided to play along with your little fantasy.

but just a few seconds passed and it happened.

you feel a treacly, sweet taste in your mouth— and it pours pour pours, tickling down on your tastebuds entirely. blinking rapidly, your hips pause before you swipe the pad of your thumb across your lips that are dripping with the creamy, white droplet.

“ ‘kuna, did you just . . lactate?”

“tch. die,” he mumbles, and his face looks so lewd.

sukuna’s pink brows were parted and his mouth was pried wide open. he’s panting - heaving, raspy breath after breath leaves from his drooling lips before his fangs get caught with his tongue.

“and don’t- don’t call it that, woman. just- keep going. ‘m close. soso fuckin’ close.”

gliding the tip of your balmy, tepid tongue over toward his other neglected nipple—sukuna shudders. you couldn’t lie, him being wrapped in nothing but pink ribbons like a present while sitting on his notorious throne was a sight you honestly wouldn’t mind getting used to.

“mmm, not with that attitude,” and he moans, feeling you starting to suck against his hardened pecs. “ask nicely,” and you give him a cheeky smile, reaching a hand down to stroke a few sloppy pumps against his cock. it was such a mess - streams ‘n streams of foamy slick everywhere, drizzling down between the cracks of your legs and sticking onto sukuna’s beefy toned thighs. “m’lord.”

“you’re tryin’ me. how dare you defy m- ngh- i’m sensitive.. thereee,” and sukuna shivers beneath you, feeling your tongue glide across his nipples for another time. even still, he’s leaking as you rode him, wrapping your arms around his thick neck. sukuna’s lids were getting heavy - drooping lowly as he hears the wet plaps of your pussy milking him dry.

he’s about to shoot blanks again, and sukuna’s mind actually turns blank once he feels the edges of your teeth nip against his pec. “mmngh-”

“mhm, c’mon ‘kuna. inside,” you whisper, both thighs sloppily sticking together like glue. your cunt’s just so eager, swallowing all of his barbaric hungry pumps until his tip swiiiipes its way near your throbbing clit thrice. spit dribbles from your lips as you speak and he watches, grunting each time his cock twitches inside of you.

you’re making sure to roll your hips - sway after sway, and right as you pinch his other leaking nipple you hear him whine.

sukuna prowls gruffly against your ear, wrapping strong, bulky arms around your waist as your body ruts into his.

his dick’s pouring yet another spumy load of cum and that’s when you started to come to a slow. he’s melting like putty - inside you especially, and sukuna starts to pant as he feels your tongue lick up the last bittersweet-tasting remnants that spill from his chest.

“ugh- such a nasty, ‘lil thing,” he holds the back of your head, darting half-lidded ruddy eyes at you. a thumb glissades over your wet lips and he groans as he sees you giving the tip of his tongue a playful nibble. “wipe that grin off your lips, girl.”

“or what? you gonna lactate again for me?” you tease, stilling your hips as his cock that’s now flaccidly soft, oozes its last final spurts of cum. right away, sukuna shoots you a glowering glare, but it’s more of a pout because he’s already missing your lips wrapped around his swollen, reddened nipples.

only you know his two weakness.

you, and his overly sensitive nipples.

“s- shut up,” he tsks, letting off a hoarse, raspy breath once peeks down and sees the buttery, white ring bubbling around his base. sukuna’s been entirely milked, and judging from him seeping his fangs lightly into your neck to suppress his faint whimpers, he only wanted more. “keep.. just keep . . doin’ that,” and sukuna swallows, gently tracing circles around your thighs with his whetted nails.

“keep suckin’ here,” he gingerly guides your head near the bottom of his pecs - it’s far redder now, glossed with dewdrops of your saliva while it’s still drizzling from the puffed centers. it wasn’t even like sukuna was telling you anymore, he was desperately asking.

“please..”

SUGURU ★ GETO.

“milk me, yeah?” geto raises a ravened brow, his voice almost taunting you. his tone - it’s always as smooth as silk, the type of tone to make your thighs squeeze together in anticipation. it had the perfect amount of rasp with a pinch of slyness too.

as you gave him a smug smile—he’s inhaling, preparing for a deep, heavy breath as he sees you sinking back down on his cock.

it’s pulsing, fluttering around your insides as it disappears between your dripping folds, earning a low scratchy hum from him. “do.. hhah- your worst then,” he raises his head, sweat already tearing from every corner of his sleek forehead.

and oh, you do.

one moment, you’re slamming up and down on his fat cock, the next—you’re riding him in reverse. but not only that. all because of the never-ending rolls of your frenetic hips, you milked geto for hours.

his muscles prominently bulged through all the weighty sides of his cock, and he’s sweating profusely, keeping hooded, darkened eyes fixated on you the entire time.

“ugh-” he’d groan, hiccuping at each popping squelch of your cunt. it sounds so pretty in a way.

between your legs - you were forever vocal, letting off occasional sloshing sounds as you slammed up and down against his cock. geto was just downright big ‘n thick, and every single time, he stretched your orifices open like it was nothing. you’re moaning with him, facing directly in front of him while wispy, hot breaths collide against both open mouths.

“ ‘m not sure if i have enough for you this time, princess,” he jibes, tears of sweat racing down the thin edges of his arched brows. “y- you milked me so good.. mmgh- this new stamina of yours though, ‘m lovin’ it.”

“sugu-” you moan against his mouth, bringing sultry kiss after kiss toward all corners and sides of his twitching, rose-colored lips. speaking of lips, they were dripping with strings of his spit, softly sucking against his quivering lower lip as your ass continued to sway around in a circle.

you’re riding him like you were riding a boat, rocking back and forth with your cunt nearly drowning him from how unapologetically wet you were. “ ‘m close, ‘m so close, suguru.” the frantic, unsteady beats of your heart were starting to pick up and it was so loud that it sounded nearly identical to broken, defeaning speakers.

the bed was much louder than you both, screaming out groans of mercy as its creaks nearly drowned out all lustful moans and grunts that sang through the fogged, steamy air..

“yeaah, yeah- gonna cum on me, pretty girl?” geto groans, cupping a hand around one of your bouncy breasts. you whimpered at his gentle touch, your thighs merely sticking against each other from the remnants of pasty cum. geto’s girth of his dick widely expands inside of your clamping walls, and he could feel your legs trying desperately to not squeeze shut.

leaning his head to level up with your chest— he slides his tongue across ‘n around your sensitive nipples - giving it a nice, proper lick. with a loud ‘pop’ that echo from his lips—geto’s half-open eyes look at you while he’s talking with his mouth stuffed full of one of your tits. “mngh- my horny messy girl wants me to get really fuckin’ milked, hm? ‘s that why she’s bein’ so greedy today?”

as he’s still filling you up with his veiny, big inches, you can feel your tongue starting to salivate from the inside with impatience. “ ‘m cummin’ - hahh, cum with me, sugu pleaseplease,” you’re whining, the curling of your thrusting hips accelerating faster.

your arduous speed had the bed groaning louder, and geto’s grunting in your ear once his base’s feeling fuller than ever. with hot pounds of skin against skin roughly slapping against each other after each second, the two of you felt the same pangs of pleasure and fervent dizziness. “inside, in-fuckin’-siiiide.”

“ay,” he pops his lips away from your tit before giving it its final loving suck, squeezing your cheeks together. “pretty girl, ‘m gonna getcha full again but you better watch that mouth,” geto eyes you, sneaking a wet, hot kiss against your trembling lips. your body’s just drenched with sweat, and his cock’s searching through your insides while locating all the exact spots perfectly.

clit - check! g-spot - check! a-spot - check!

geto’s swollen crown of his cock was wiiiide, and it made sure to give each erogenous spot inside of your pussy its deserved kisses.

big, grabby hands hold onto your jerking waist and he’s winding your hips against his lap while your mind’s turning into straight mush. it’s all thanks to geto bouncing you up ‘n down on his dick that you could barely think straight. the only thing that was thinking in your mind was that you wanted him to fill you up over and fuckin’ over . .

the incoming high was inevitable - heavenly even, and it’s like a rush that never stops overwhelming through your bloodstream. deeply, the sticky prints of his thumbs pierce into your flesh, and you could see his adam’s apple bobbing once he finally cums. at the same time, you finished too and the feeling was simply orgasmic - literally.

another load bubbles into your cunt as your rotating ass comes to a sudden freeze. shared, breathy breaths fall against each pair of lips as your forehead lies against his. “mngh- suguruuu,” you’d moan, shivering once you felt two of his fingers smack against your leaking pussy. you were filled to the very brim, and despite how he’s still inches deep, he wanted to fill you up just a bit more.

you had him primal now, and geto’s smearing his cum all over the opening of your stuffed cunt before stuffing it back inside. “more, d- don’t stop.”

“wasn’t.. going to,” geto grumbles, letting off a soft prowl once he feels the adhesive-like stick of your pussy keeps its hold on him. you’re addicting, and you’re moaning once he suddenly lifts you from his cream-leaking shaft.

with a spurting ‘pop’ sound, he lies you flat on your back, rubbing his achingly cherry-colored tip over your dripping slit. “fuuuck,” he licks his lips, admiring the filthy sight before gathering a wad of spit in his mouth before with a wet ‘ptou’, geto spits riiight on the outer part of your creamy pussy. “nasty ‘till the end, huh,” he clicks his tongue, inching his head down.

“sugu-”

“ah- not a word from you right now, gorgeous. she’s gotta get a few words in too, hm?” and you whined, hearing the brief ‘slap!’ of his palm make direct contact against your pussy. “now spread these pretty legs for me. ‘m kinda.. hah- starved.”

NANAMI ★ KENTO.

“oh, h- hoooney,” nanami hiccups, muscly soft arms wrapping around your rickety torso. he’s holding you close, giving you a secure bear hug as your cunt’s just wetly slapping up and down against his twitching cock. you’re so close up to his chest that you feel two things—nanami’s soft, rounded belly, and the dozens of scattered blond chest hair that painted the entirety of his abdomen like a canvas.

the two of you had been at it for hours, and he was practically sticking against your body. sheets and sheets of sweat glue against both rutted bodies as each of you continued to rock rock rock in unsteady sync. he’s been milked stupidly by you, and a viscous trail of cum continued to stick against your thighs as you moved.

“mng- ‘ken,” you’d breathe thickly, hearing each clashing slap! of your pretty hips slam against his thighs each second. his mind’s empty, tied in knots — and speaking of, nanami was preparing to surprise your stuffed pussy with another big knot of his own..

“t- that’s it, don’t stooop,” and as your voice shakes, you’re arching slightly once his tip massages a loooong pattern through your insides. you’re clamping down hard - swerving your hips around in random directions continuously while gripping his ruffled, checkered tie.

“fuck, f- fuuuck,” and nanami’s starting to trail slender, callused fingers toward the edges of your ass.

you’re bouncy - twisting all round ‘n round while focusing your weight on your knees. as you kept moving—you leaned in, shyly biting into his neck. “hah- kentoooo,” you whimper, cutely dragging out his name. his tip thrashing against your g-spot’s got you sounding more dramatic than usual. sneaking four torrid, wet kisses against his slick-spit lips. “c.. can you gimme one more?”

“at this rate, ‘m gonna get you pregnant again too,” he gutturally whispers in response, a hand gently pressing onto your tummy. nanami’s just inside you sooo deep — sooo nice ‘n snug that his thumb swirls across the very center of your stomach before feeling a familiar bulge.

browned, warm eyes look into your eyes before he sighs. “feel that, honey? that’s.. me,” he grunts, talking over your sweet, repetitive wantons of whines. as nanami grabs a nice handful of your ass with his free hand, he nibbles against your earlobe. “but- if my wife wants me to.. fill her up once more, i won’t mind.”

you gasped once nanami suddenly lifted you with care — careful not to hurt you, treating you like a porcelain doll. his roughly-textured hands place you on the flat of the mattress before he’s already aligning his cream-covered tip against your slobbering cunt.

“mhh- how many are we gonna try to make t- this time, sweetheart?” he stammers lowly, smacking his angry vermillion-colored crown against your pussy. he’s met with wet squelch sounds in response from below, and nanami licks his lips before delving his way back inside your compressing entrance. “o.. one? two.. threeee?”

with a pout, your legs were already violently shaking — struggling pathetically, hopelessly trying to stay open but to no avail.

once nanami’s making love to you again. he’s pinning both of your knees up to your chest. “just.. just don’t miss, ‘ken.” you whimper, your voice cracking with each bumpy syllable that slips from your lips. he’s puncturing you deeply with each thrust as if he had some kind of purpose.

deep, deep thrusts..

nanami’s using all vigor of hips - pounding into your precious pussy, dragging out moan after moan from your raw, straining larynx. it was starting to sound a bit hoarse—and each time you swallowed, nanami’s thrusts were more precise.

“b.. baby, you’re really.. hah- gonna.. milk me,” he groans, feeling the back of his thighs starting to gradually tighten. his face buries between your chest, lolling his tongue out before getting a subtle taste of your bouncy tits. “hngh- ‘m gonna get this pretty belly so round, gonna make you a pretty wife again and an even prettier mama.” and as he continues to speak, nanami’s feeling your nails pierce into the ridden flesh of his skin.

“f- fuuuck me, kento. pleasepleaseee, gimme another baby,” you’d whimper, your voice shifting from normal to shaky as his hips start to strike into your very core. he’s fucking you stupid, and he’s also getting dumb himself all thanks to your pussy taking the fatal, wet blows.

it was just something about your warmth. your cunt - it always hugged him, gifting him with a slick hotness he could never put into actual words..

you’re clinging onto nanami tightly - showing your body just how ‘bestial’ his hips could be as he continues to drill into your sobbing pussy. it’s so wet, and he hears it all too. the sweet ‘lil cries that were sounding more like pathetic squelches of mercy, and your chants of his name forming in inaudible babbles were just the icing on the cake.

“mngh- upsie-daisy, honey,” nanami groans, gently pushing your legs over your head. now, he’s got a straight view of your face that’s just covered with glistening sweat. the more nanami’s pupils dilate at the pure sight of you — his beloved wife, he sees how you’re just effortlessly kissed by the sun’s rays that shined near the bedroom window. pangs of pleasure coarse through your veins and his, and nanami’s just about at his very limit.

once he cums for the nth time - it’s even thicker than before. his rounded belly laid flat against your chest with his blond happy trail tickling against your tummy. you’re whimpering, covering his back with scratches before he pops a velvety, hot knot deep inside of your greedy cunt.

“mhm,” you’d coo out in satisfied surprise, hearing nanami’s breath hitch against the lobe of your ear. a lot of it dribbles out of you, pouring down to your hole and staining into the sage-colored bedsheets. nanami’s hips pause, and he’s just allowing you to milk him dry, filling you gallon after gallon with cum.

“a- again,” you’d mewl airily with a pouted puckered out lip, bringing a leg to wrap around his waist. nanami’s got a timid smile, pressing a kiss to the top of your forehead. of course you wanted more.

nanami wriggles his hips ever so slightly, making sure he had all of his load stuffed inside of your dripping pussy before caressing your right cheek with his thumb lovingly.

“my, and i thought my breeding kink was bad during this time of year,” and as he’s still inside of you, you moaned, feeling nanami’s cock pop its way out between your puffy-drooled slit before sliding its way back in. those loud sloshing sounds of your slippery pussy was so carnal - and he could just listen to it all day.

you couldn’t help but gasp again, feeling nanami lift your legs behind your head before giving you a long, fervent-tasting kiss. “but fine, one - hah, more.. load for the pretty wife comin’ right up..”

SATORU ★ GOJO.

“h- hoooly.. fuckin’ shiiiit, baby,” satoru hisses, drawing in drafty breath after breath as he watches the fat of your ass slam back against his sticky, meaty thighs for the zillionth time.

constantly, you’re placing all your weight down into your knees as your hips rocked and rocked. satoru leans back, holding back sultry-sounding moans as his leaking tip sloppily swipes a wet stripe up ‘n down the opening hood of your clit.

he’s in so deep, and he’s still trying to get over his most recent release. “look at her - so fuckin’ sloppy,” satoru puckers his lips, letting off a teasing low ‘ooooh’ once he ogles down at the translucently white ring that wraps around his cock. it coats all nth-inches of his shaft as he’s still weakly thrusting his hips up against your pussy that’s thrusting riiiight back down.

he hears the rubber streeetch at each pumping thrust and it’s just so loud. with a loud ‘snap!’ it ends up breaking mid-thrust.

polished, peach-colored lips of his tremble at the electrifying friction of striking skin and he grunts throatily once his cum-covered tip swerves its way past your clit be for jackhammering a single thrust near your g-spot. “mmngh- ‘toru, fuck,” you’d whine out a gargled sob, wobbling your lurching ass back into his bare lap. as you bring a hand toward the back of your rear, you spread the left cheek apart before arching a bit more forward. “s.. satoru- might..hhaah- as well.. take it off before you cum.”

it didn’t take much for him to realize the ‘it’ you wanted to be taken off — was the broken rubber. by now, it’s probably stuffed with satoru’s cum from previous rounds, but you only imagined how much better he’d feel raw..

“heeeh- and you call me the nasty one in the relationship,” he grunts, brushing a thumb down your dripping pussy. your rhythm was as slow as ever, and his sapphire-shaded irises just couldn’t depart from your body. not for a single second. you still had your panties on too—but the grey string was pulled to the side, all thanks to satoru.

you moaned at the touch of his wiry, padded thumb gliding a straight line down your sopping-wet pussy. with a single hand, satoru snatches the clear, sticky condom off his cock - hearing the subtle ‘riiiip’ noise occur from his current action.

“f.. fuuuck,” satoru groans, raising your hips for a second then removed the broken rubber. he’s damn close - soso close, and his jaw tightens. as it’s now removed from around the entirety of his length, it leaves a bit of printing ring around the lower part of his dick, and a prominent vein shoots its way up his skin once the cool air hits it. “baby- ‘m not gonna last long if ‘m gonna.. hah- finish inside you raw, y’know.”

with a roused hum leaving from your pursed lips, you give your ass a cute spank before wriggling your dripping cunt against satoru’s flushed, ruby tip. “good. finish inside, baby,” and satoru’s breath gets caught in his throat once he sees your fingers spreading the lower dripping lips of your pussy apart. “riiiight in here, fill me up, s- satoru.”

your filthy, needy words against his ear slid from your lips so smooth like honey. he just couldn’t keep his eyes off of you — more importantly, he couldn’t keep his eyes off your pretty, jostling ass. it’s almost taunting him with the way it moves ‘n wriggles around his pelvis in an alluring circle. “ffuck, baby. know t- that’s right, ride that fuckin’ dick- ngh-” and a whine rips straight from his throat once he sees you slooowly arching inward.

his tip wetly slides its way from between your sniveling cunt as you bent forward - letting him view the dried-up stringy strands of cum that were glued against your sprawled apart thighs.

“mhmm,” you bite back a moan through clenched teeth, wrapping a hand around his veiny cock. you align yourself back on his dick, and his veins immediately malfunction from the sheer hot rawness of your slick, weeping pussy. “pussy’s all yours ‘toru,” you hummed, hearing his gasping ‘oh shiiiit’ ‘s huff out from his lips once he’s bottoming out again.

“f- fuckin’ damn right she is,” he grumbles, reclining himself back, giving your left cheek a whacking spank. you’re moaning once your jolty hips start up again, riding him in reverse with your ass hitting back against his lap repeatedly. with how impactful you slammed back into his lap, each rigid bounce of your ass was just seismic - and satoru’s just … about … there.

he’s hearing ring after ring in his ears, and it’s got his empty mind going for a whirl. your pussy was just ruthless - almost unfair at how good you milked him each time. satoru’s ethereal icy-like pupils that were fully dilated mindlessly lulled to the back of his head. “god- ‘m gonna give you another,” he moans, hearing those same smack smack smacks of your cunt messily pounce back into his lap. the way you rode him in backward oh-so flawlessly, - it was just so… risqué.

the enticingly, saturated grip your pussy had on satoru’s cock was enough to make him drool. as skin continued to rude crudely clash into each other at full speed—creating a sharp unforgettable collision, and it was not long before satoru’s bursting blanks yet again.

this time though - actually inside you.

a looooong, raspy groan scratches from his throat but it’s sounding a bit more high-pitched if anything. he’s inside you raw - finishing inside you raw, and satoru’s gripping your ass with one hand while whining your name into your neck.

“mhm-hm, good girl, oh- s.. shiiit ‘s still comin’,” he breathes deeply, seconds after dumping a fresh buttery load of cum inside. as he’s spasming underneath you—his thighs felt glued to the mattress, and his knot floods into your cum-filled pussy. “damn.. she’s.. hah- more of a slut than you are, look at it spillin’ all out.. f- fuuck, baby-”

“don’t stop now, satoru,” you’d hold in between raucous breaths, still feeling his lustrously, syrupy cum trickling inside of you.

it shoots deep deep deep - pouring into your womb in thick, slimy molasses. satoru’s staring the entire time, bright-eyed ‘n bushy-tailed practically, melting at the way your cunt swallows all ribbons of his seed as if its thirst was finally quenched. well - almost.

“mng- one more, baby,” and he grunts, feeling your ass playfully rooooll into another circling toss. your pussy slaps back down against his cum-oozing tip before you hunch over his lap once again. “ ‘toruuu, one more.”

“my girl’s never satisfied, huh,” satoru dryly laughs, squinting to get a clear good look at your pussy that’s just overflowed with ropes and ropes of velvety, hot cum. for a split second - satoru pulls out, in awe at the sight of his cum streams out your slick orifices. it’s so creamy, and he moaned, still feeling the intensity of his body as his tip silently aching to give you another fill.

your back’s still prettily arched over to a certain degree—and you crane your neck slightly to give him a frisky simper as he continues to play between your thighs. “especially h.. her too,” and satoru’s thumb swipes up a few remains of his cum that wetly sobbed down the slot of your entrance. after a while, he’s even starting to hear his jagged breathing pick up before he aligns his florid-colored tip between your slit again.

as you’re holding in choked moans by biting the inside of your cheek, satoru sits up—making you lean allll the way forward until your cheek’s pressed into the cushioned pillow.

you’re not riding him anymore - instead, he wanted to see the pretty view from behind this time.

“hah- f- fine then,” and he’s grunting, poking his tip in ‘n out of your pearly, drooling pussy before slickly easing it into place. “gotta show this pussy wha- o- ooooh fuck, ‘m cummin’ a-again.”

CHOSO ★ KAMO.

“oh! my fans love you, baby, look.” choso timidly grins, holding in a guttural groan each time your ass steeply bounces right back into his lap.

the room was dim with hardly any light except for the exception of choso’s multi-colored monitor that flashed with pretty colors of LED lights. his stream mostly included the dedicated audience of his 6.9k viewers who usually spammed his chats with thousands upon thousands of lewd, unserious comments all at once.

it was mainly comments specifically saying how you’re just so pretty, how they wish they were you, and egging you on to make choso whine just a liiiitle bit more.

“h.. hi, chat,” you’d huff out in jagged breaths. all you took was a single side glance toward his set-up, but you were sure that thanks to his special guest - he was about to reach 7k viewers within no time.

choso liked including you in his streams—it’s usually not with you riding him, but you were more than willing to entertain his viewers for a little while. he was celebrating a milestone, and the best gift he could’ve ever got was you - you and your dangerous, rocking hips that he was forever obsessed with.

every few seconds, he’d hear that re-occurring ‘ping!’ notification whenever someone donated.

your ass moved like water — so perfect.

your body - it sensually rocked against choso’s lap as your feverishly wet lips pressed against the crook of his neck. “mhm- ‘y always make me feel s.. so good,” he shivers at your lukewarm touch, taking a few blurred peers at the gleamingly-bright screen that shined back into his face.

“hey- look at me,” you’d coo, pressing clammy hands at each side of his face. tousled, inky-shaded strands slit down the corners of his forehead before he meets your gaze. instantaneously, choso softens at your touch, letting off a sweet whine once your thumb rubs against the scarred bridge of his nose.

“they’re not riding you, i am, choso,” and right at that exact moment, your cunt lets out a sobbing wet squelch that makes all jolting limbs judder in an elated frenzy. “so let’s give ‘em a show, hm?”

“y- yes, mommy.” choso locks eyes with you, his pupils dilating and he’s hearing the booming loud sounds of his heart thump-thump-thumping straight out of his bare sweat-covered chest.

“mommy?” you tease at the sudden term.

“b.. baby, i mean.” he grunts, one of his hands fishing down toward the lower part of your jerking ass.

he’s so impatient - so eager to just give you another one of his loads. choso’s stream’s probably been running for about a good two and a half hours—and with the way you were riding him, he didn’t ever want you to stop.

your hips were gonna make choso fall in love all over again. embarrassingly enough, choso’s face heats up at his sudden slip up of calling you ‘mommy’ but he couldn’t lie, the moment he called you that, he felt the tip of his dick twitch in rousing thrill.

pound, after pound, after fuckin’ pound. .

by this point — you were the one fucking choso, and he didn’t even mind at all. he’s louder than you, his gruff whines and whimpers turned more melodic at each cute cracking strain. “pleaaase- please, fuck me, fuuuck me- milk me.” he starts to ramble, gasping once you lightly push him flat back against the pillow.

his fall from your playful shove was soft - not as soft as your insides though. your pussy’s just squeezing onto him, preparing to wring him dry like a wet, soggy towel.

choso’s tongue lolls out his mouth and he’s panting rapidly like a dog - moaning once you attack sloppy, unkempt kisses onto his bitten, raw lips.

they’re a hot pink, glossed with saliva and he’s even starting to drool from the very corners all because of your slippery, hot pussy trying to suffocate his cock with your gripping warmth. “hng- good boy, ‘cho. let your fans hear you,” you whisper, bringing your trail of kisses toward the lower part of his bottom lip. then, you reach toward his chin, giving the tubby part of skin a playful nibble. “cum again for me, choso. ‘s okay.”

the piles of donations continue - loudly pinging, and his chat’s just being flooded with even more thirsty, needy fans direly wishing they were in your place or hell - maybe even being in choso’s place instead. .

“ ‘m cumming- hold me, baby, ‘m fuckinnn’-” and he gets cut off, feeling the lower half of his body erupt into such final stages of utter rapture.

he’s so hot that it feels like an active volcano, and in reality—the magma is his cum—hotly spurting inside of you, bubbling in thick, frothy bubbles before oozing right back out. you’re both moaning in sync, and choso’s face is just shading into a ripe shade of vibrant red as he’s letting out such a large load.

he’s awkwardly clinging onto your hips the entire time as he holds you close, and he takes one single peek at his chat that’s still virtually cheering him on in the background.

‘choso my goat finally getting some pussy? 2025 is off to a great start!’

‘she is sooo hot.’

‘me when me when me when.’

even though the majority of them were clowning him like always - he grumps, shifting his focus back towards you as he’s still pumping in such viscid, milky ropes.

you’re slowing down finally, rolling your hips around before coming to a halt as you’re whimpering into his neck. choso’s got a sleazy grin - and oh, he was the literal epitome of pussy drunk. he’s filled you up so much that it got to his head, and his clingy hold against your ass never left.

in fact, he squeezes it tighter - giving it a soft spank before shyly burying his face in between your tits - his comfort place. “can we.. do that again?” he pouts, hissing once he feels the mere non-existent bouncing of your hips.

already - he’s missed it, but he was still giving you a fresh nice ‘n hot creampie so it’s not like choso was one to complain.

he’s bringing his thin-pressed lips up to yours before kissing you, whining impatiently against your mouth as you contemplated a reply. “i- i want you to milk me again-” and he reaches in, shutting his laptop.

“hhaah- with no one watching this time. just us. p.. please, mommy?”

TOJI ★ FUSHIGURO.

“f- fuck, didn’t know a pretty thing like you knew how to ride s- so fuh- fuuuck,” toji stammers over his words, getting rudely cut off by the clashing slams of your whetted, brutal hips.

toji slouches further back in his rocking chair before raising his pinched front cowboy hat. its jet-black — flawlessly matching his eyes, and a piece of straw stuck from between his scarred lips. tilting his hat downward, he gets a picture-perfect view of your pretty, perked ass riding him ‘round in reverse.

toji’s full weighted base was stacked - just pumped and stuffed with so many milky, dewy wads. it’s been rounds - and you’ve already milked him to the max. but you wanted to milk him again, and again, and again..

at first, toji thought you were interested in milking the actual cows in his feedlots - but oh, you wanted to milk him instead.

“mhm- what’s.. the matter, cowboy?” you breathe, bringing your hands to hold onto his knees for leverage. you heard the clanking loud clanks of toji’s cowboy boots occasionally slam into the dusted ground. your cunt’s just feral at this point, and he’s grunting hoarsely as he sees your body ride him better than you did of any of his horses. “too much stamina for you? maybe i should.. hah- slow down.”

“quiet, ‘lil girl,” he hisses at you, swatting a black-gloved hand at the rotating globe of your ass. with just a rippling smack, your skin instantly jiggles at the contact of his palm and it makes his dick twitch inside you. speaking of, his crowned tip - it’s an angry, carmine shade of red that’s akin to a pepper. the tight-fitted mahogany-colored chaps that toji wore were loosely pulled down, his jangling buckle barely hanging on to his slim waist. “don’t slow down. better ride me good, atta girlie— fuuckk.”

despite how toji was trying his hardest to keep up his prim façade - he knew, he was no match for your sweet, sweet cunt..

“mng- now now, darlin’ . . fuck,” he brings two thick fingers up toward the dip part of his hat as ravened skinny bangs nearly shield his emerald eyesight. your hips had more horsepower than anything, and he’s clenching his jaw at the same time as you’re clenching down on his throbbing cock.

toji felt soooo full, fuller than he’s ever been—and he’s hearing those slippery, sloppy sloshes sing away from your pussy like a lewd western tune of its own.

your ass was sharp and very, very precise. just one smack against his wet lap and toji’s losing all sorts of a train of thought. “good- good fuckin’ girl, put those h…hips-” he lowly purrs, pausing for a second to swallow. “put those hips ‘ta work for me. ride me then- make me proud, heh- cowgiiiirl.”

but once toji gets a wild wild wild taste of cloying overstim - it’s fuckin’ over.

your hips were disgusting - in every best way possible. it didn’t take long at all for his smug act to tear away though, and now, you had an utterly milked-out cowboy right underneath you.

he’s been ringed dry, and he’s probably pumped out such webby masses of cum inside of your pussy. you felt so stuffed, and toji’s barely able to keep up with your stamina. your constant bouncing had him dizzy - and you watched as his hat fell from the crown of his head, falling to the pile of hay that surrounded you both near the wooden century-old chair.

“hng- fuck,” he groans huskily, clicking his tongue at the sharp swats of your clapping ass. his turgid cock’s stretched inside you through ‘n though, and with a single, stretchy thrust - he’s french kissing his way near your convulsing g-spot. he hits that same spot thrice - not once, not two - but thrice, and he sees how your mind’s already starting to go blank just from your cute dumbfounded expression. “h.. heh, what’s the matter, darlin’? no more horsepo- ngh-”

as your ass kept up its crazed pace of slamming up ‘n down on his heavy shaft, you wrapped a hand around toji’s throat. the milked-out cowboy eyes you intently, feeling your soft hand slide around the fabric of his verdant-colored bandana. “less talking, more hahh- milkin’.” you moan, giving his neck a slight squeeze. toji lets out a moan - a slutty one at that, and you spot that glint in his eye.

he’s always been one for a challenge, especially a pretty ‘lil cowgirl who dared to compete with him in riding.

in the background - it’s just the faint sounds of bellowing moos and neighs from the animals nearby in the other stalls. as toji’s wholly milked out, his meaty thighs felt like they were permanently stuck against yours like velcro.

he’s at an utter loss of words—quietly groaning as your cunt swallows up every drop, greedily demanding more and more fills. “f- fuck, y’er quite the rider,” he breathes, burying the soles of his boots into the ground. “ugh- ‘m gonna c.. cum again, doll- shit.”

with your hips purposely stuttering over his lap, toji's head sexily tilts back to a certain degree. you gawk as his black lashes flutter - and he’s feeling each vigorous slam of your ass pound back into his naturally sculptured pelvis. toji’s groaning, running his gloved fingers up your waist, trying oh-so-hard to control the movement of your hips but failing miserably.

“inside again,” you moaned, rubbing your thumb near the lump that grew inside of his throat. toji’s mushroomy-flushed tip was just redly swollen, throbbing sporadically, and on the verge of being emptied once again, and if he wasn’t pussy-drunk then - he definitely was now.

“mngh- better h- hold on, m’lady,” toji grunts, gripping your ass firmly. he hears the latex of his gloves squeaaak against your jarring flesh, and he’s letting off continuous hoarse ‘phew’ ‘s as your sloppy cunt prepares to milk him again.

you’re rolling your waist ‘round in a whirring circle like it’s going for a spin, making sure to focus your weight in the centers of your knees. while the skin continues to pierce against skin in such a loud manner - your pussy’s just sobbing from each sloppy thrust.

toji heard it too - and his dicks’s almost sympathetic, gifting it a few syrupy ‘love taps’ with its tip as it concludes its final sloppy hits.

once toji cums - he cums hard.

he’s shooting yet another thick batch inside of you raw, feeling your quavery thighs clamp shut as he’s filling you to the utmost brim. it’s parchingly hot, and toji’s seed gradually travels its way deep into your womb. “hhah- atta girl, thereeee w- we go,” he groans, still having his fingers dug into the soft globes of your ass. you’re panting just as much as he was, and your mouth suddenly grows dry once toji’s cum starts to dribble out in cottony, satiny clumps.

for once - he’s speechless, and toji’s barely able to keep his eyes open. perhaps this time, he’s really milked out because his cock inside of you felt like it was floating. his tip’s still leaking from all reddened sides but in very small amounts, and he’s holding onto your waist with the piece of straw still sticking out from between his scarred lips. “ngh- maybe i was wrong about ‘cha, doll. you- you can ride damn good, that’s for sur-”

“i didn’t say stop, cowboy,” you bite the end of the wheat with your teeth, picking up his cowboy hat and placing it on top of your head. “c’mon, one more.. hah- riding session for the road, huh?”

with a sly, crooked smile, toji scoffs, beads of sweat streaming down all corners of his face. the overgrown bangs of hair that stuck against his forehead were all muggy from the various rounds that occurred - giving him a bit of a greasy look as his skin ricocheted against the sun’s bright rays.

“h.. heh,” and he gives your ass its final spank, the leather of his glove tickling against your flesh before he tilts his cowboy hat that remained tilted on your head. “yes ma’am.”

13K notes · View notes

cumironi · 7 days ago

Text

A FLEXIBLE BIMBO’S GUIDE TO FINANCIAL RUIN, NAMASTEEE

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

sum. thousand for pilates and your expensive juice while your boyfriend is working his ass off. is it acceptable? obviously not that’s why they’ll help you streeeeech.

warning(s). non-sorcerer, modern AU, reader is a spoiled college brat, age gap relationship (31yo man / 23yo reader), possessive behavior, manhandling, leg-on-shoulder sex position, power play, rough sex, standing sex, impact play (spanking), overstimulation, internal ejaculation / cum leaking, dirty talk, mild degradation, praise kink, pussy drunk characterization, full nelson position, handpinning, wall fucking, orgasm denial, delayed climax, size kink, wet and messy sex, nipple play (biting, sucking), overstretched pu$$y, cumplay, emotionally repressed men snapping sexually, physical restraint (arm pinning, leg holding), reader being folded like a pilates reformer machine, window fucking, public exposure risk (urban apartment), swearing / explicit language, casual misogyny with affection, mental breakdown via dick, all characters are consenting adults.

GOJO SATORU

you don’t even hear the front door slam. too busy lounging on the couch in his hoodie—oversized and smelling like his stupid expensive cologne, with your phone balanced against your knee, legs thrown up like a princess in exile. a cucumber mint smoothie sweating beside you. freshly blended. still cold. probably fourteen dollars.

you hear his footsteps instead. that deliberate, heavy stride of a man who’s either bringing you dinner or about to fuck up your entire life for sport.

you don’t look up.

but you feel it.

that vibration of a presence when gojo satoru walks into the room pissed and amused in equal measure. like he’s caught you stealing gold bars again. like he’s gonna make you beg for the next one. he tosses something. paper. it hits you in the chest and flutters down.

you blink.

“…did you just throw a receipt at me?”

his sunglasses are off. he never wears them at home unless he’s about to deliver bad news in a dramatic monologue. “that’s a pilates receipt,” he says. “for fifty-six thousand yen.” a beat. “for one month.”

you lift your eyes lazily. “that’s the introductory rate.”

his hands come to his hips. god. those fucking hips. “and what exactly are they teaching you in this luxury cult that justifies you spending my hard-earned salary on getting tied to a piece of wood and shoved around like a meat puzzle?”

you lick smoothie off your straw.

“they work my core. build length. alignment. it’s a holistic approach to mobility and flexibility.” he stares at you in silence for a full ten seconds. his nostrils flare. “…you think you’re flexible?” he says at last. you blink slowly. you can feel the grin starting before it curls into your mouth.

“i’ve seen what you do to me,” you say sweetly. “so yes. i think i’m very flexible. you’re lucky i don’t invoice you.”

a second passes. a long one.

then—he’s moving.

fast.

you let out a delighted yelp as he grabs you off the couch, your smoothie flying somewhere behind you like a casualty of war. your legs kick, flail, but his grip is iron. the hoodie rides up to your waist as he tosses you over his shoulder.

“satoru—satoru—”

“shut up,” he says, smacking your ass, “and show me how much i’m paying for.”

the first time he folds you in half, it’s on the kitchen counter.

his hand’s between your shoulders, pressing you flat to the cold marble. your knees are up beside your ears. your panties are gone. his sweats are halfway down his thighs. and his cock—god, his cock—is already inside you, thick and veiny and curved just enough to punch something inside you you’ve never had anyone reach before.

he’s not even moving. just holding you there. impaled.

your calves tremble. your toes curl.

“not bad,” he murmurs, dragging his fingers along your inner thigh. “but these pilates people… do they fold you like this, baby? get your knees touching your fucking shoulders like this?” you try to breathe but there’s no air. just the stretch. the deepness. the weight of him inside you, pulsing.

you nod, eyes fluttering.

“liar,” he breathes, and slams into you.

your scream echoes off tile. his thrusts are punishing. slow. like he’s testing your range of motion. pulling out almost entirely and then pushing back in with a controlled, maddening precision that leaves you shaking.

“look at you. soaking all over my counter. and you have the audacity to use my card for yoga class when you’ve got me right here? i should break your fucking spine.” you whine. moan. shudder. he’s so deep—you feel like you’re going to come just from the position. from how your body is folded under him, stretched wide, vulnerable.

he grabs your ankle. lifts it higher. you nearly scream again.

“god, look at this. baby. you’re literally bent in half. you wanna waste my money? make it worth it.”

round two is on the floor.

your legs are straddling his shoulders. your arms are pinned under his knees. and your entire torso is rolled up like he’s about to pile-drive you through the floorboards. “this one’s called happy baby,” he murmurs, licking your clit slow and messy. “except i don’t think there’s anything holy about what i’m doing to you right now.”

you can’t speak.

your thighs are shaking. your pussy’s swollen, wet, overstimulated from the last orgasm and being edged through two more. he keeps licking. slow and relentless. circling that tender spot just enough to make your stomach curl and twist, like you’re being stretched from the inside out.

“fuck,” he whispers. “your little hole’s fluttering. you gonna come again? just from my tongue?” you try to wiggle, but he tightens his grip. makes a noise against your clit that vibrates through your spine.

you break. completely. shuddering against his mouth, gushing against his chin as you come again, full-body, screaming his name. he groans, hips grinding into the floor, hungry for it. like he gets off just from wrecking you.

by the time he’s finally inside you again, this time from behind, kneeling over you with your arms pulled back into a stretch that arches your chest off the bed—he’s panting.

you’re soaked.

his cock slides in easy. and he just holds you there. hips flush. dick fully buried. sweat dripping down his chest onto your back. “jesus christ,” he groans. “this pussy—this fucking pussy—baby, i think you broke me.”

you make a sound. a weak, ruined whimper.

he chuckles.

softly.

leans down. kisses your shoulder. cheek. presses his chest to your back and rocks into you with slow, loving strokes, fucking you now like he means it. “you win,” he whispers against your ear. “fuck the pilates. i’ll stretch you every morning.”

a pause.

“but i’m charging you for the smoothies now.”

GETO SUGURU

it starts in the kitchen.

you’re wearing that outfit. leggings that cling to your ass like a second skin, high waistband hugging the curve of your hips. cropped tank top, no bra, just the hint of nipple pressing against the fabric like a test of his restraint. hair twisted up messily, neck exposed.

you’re blending something. bright green and expensive-smelling.

he walks in from work and drops his keys with a low clink, and for a moment, it’s quiet.

then, “you’ve been at that place again.”

your spine straightens.

“what place?” you don’t even turn around. voice all air and innocence, like you’ve already decided you’re going to lie through your teeth. “don’t fucking play with me,” he says, tone level, low, a blade unsheathed. “i saw the charge. that pilates studio. twenty-four thousand yen. again.”

you sip. “they added advanced core conditioning.”

“did they add a private fucking chef too? you spent more on smoothies this month than on textbooks.” you don’t flinch. just smirk into the glass. “i’m investing in my longevity.”

and that’s it.

the silence that follows is deep and weighted and final.

because he doesn’t argue when he’s past the point of talking. he acts. the next thing you feel are his hands on your waist, dragging you away from the counter with no warning, smoothie glass thunking to the floor, half-spilled. he spins you, lifts you—lifts you—and slams your back into the cool surface behind. you yelp, arms catching the edge behind you as he shoves his thigh between your legs and presses. hard.

“you want flexibility?” he growls, mouth hot on your jaw. “mobility? deep core engagement?”

his hands grip your thighs and spread them wide, pushing them up and open until you’re practically doing a split across the marble. the stretch burns—but it’s not enough to distract from the thick press of his thigh grinding up against your pussy through the leggings, damp already. “i’ll give you a fucking full-body workout.”

“no one touches me,” you gasp.

you moan, but it’s cut off when he grabs your jaw—tight—and forces your face toward him. “you think this ass is yours to flaunt on some reformer bed? think they stretch you like i do?” he’s furious. but there’s something underneath it. darker. hotter.

you’re being owned. corrected. and you love it.

he snorts. low and sharp. “except when you beg for it.”

he strips you bare in the living room.

throws your top to the floor. tears the leggings down your legs like they offended him. you squirm, bare now, flushed from neck to thigh. he doesn’t even bother undressing fully—just shoves his slacks and boxers down enough to free his cock, hard and thick and already leaking.

“get on the floor,” he says, voice gravel.

you obey.

he grabs your ankle and drags you to him, and it’s not gentle. your skin scrapes on the carpet. your breath hitches. but you’re soaked. he folds your knees to your chest, pushes both legs back until you’re open and exposed and trembling. “you think this position is in your class?” he growls, staring down at your cunt, glistening under the light. “you think they stretch you like this?”

you’re so open you can’t breathe. your thighs tremble from the pressure. your cunt pulses with need.

and then—

he pushes in.

slow at first. just enough to stretch your entrance wide. then he rams forward with no mercy, burying himself to the hilt in a single thrust that punches a sound out of your throat you’ve never made before.

your eyes roll back. your hands claw at the carpet. you’re full, painfully, impossibly full. he’s so deep it aches. “feel that?” he hisses through his teeth, dragging his cock out slow, letting your walls grip every ridge of him. “this is the only stretch that matters.”

he fucks you like a hammer. like he’s working out every ounce of frustration with the way your body folds around him. he bends your legs back until your knees press into your chest and your ass lifts off the ground. your pussy squelches, loud, raw, soaking. the slap of skin on skin echoes in the room.

he leans down, mouth to your ear.

“they stretch your pussy this deep?” he hisses.

“n—no,” you choke.

he grabs your throat—firm, not choking. just holding.

“say it again.”

“no one—no one does but you.”

he kisses you then—rough and filthy, tongue sliding into your mouth like it owns you. he doesn’t stop fucking you even as your moans catch in your throat. he wants it there. to feel it. to taste it. to make it real.

he flips you over onto your stomach without pulling out.

you gasp as your face hits the carpet, and then he’s grinding into you from behind, deeper now, weight heavy over your back, one hand fisted in your hair.

you sob into the floor.

“stay right there,” he growls. “arch your fucking back—good. that’s it. hold it.” he pistons into you from behind, his hand smacking your ass hard, again, again, until it burns. “legs shaking already?” he pants. “you’re such a spoiled little brat. wanna run your mouth, waste my money, act like your pussy isn’t mine.”

he pulls your head back by your hair and bites your neck—hard.

“say it.”

“it’s yours—fuck, suguru—i swear—”

he fucks you even harder.

and when you finally come—shaking, convulsing, sobbing into the carpet with your pussy gripping him like it’ll never let go—he groans, low and guttural, and spills inside you in thick, hot waves. he doesn’t pull out. he stays there. buried. deep. panting.

hours later—your face still mashed against the floor, limbs trembling, thighs bruised—he finally slides out. you feel the slow drip of his cum down your thigh. then his fingers. he pushes it back in with two of them. slow. possessive.

“no more pilates,” he murmurs, brushing sweat-slick hair off your temple. “you want to stretch, baby, you come to me.”

you blink up at him, broken and beaming.

“…can i still get the smoothies?”

he laughs once, low and sharp.

then grabs your ankle again.

“bend over the couch. you’re not done.”

NANAMI KENTO

you should’ve known something was wrong when he texted you at 4:41 p.m.

“i’ll be home by five. don’t go anywhere.”

no emoji. no dot dot dot. just those words. clean and dry like a corporate bullet.

you thought he was bluffing. he doesn’t leave the office early for anything. he eats his lunch standing up and answers emails with a frown so deep it might be surgical. but he walks through the door at 4:58 p.m. briefcase down. tie still on. and he doesn't kiss you. he sets a folded piece of paper on the counter. a receipt. you don’t even need to look at it.

you know what it is.

“you spent sixty-five thousand yen,” he says without looking at you, sliding off his watch. “in one week.” you chew your lip, standing in the kitchen like a caught rabbit in leggings that cling to your ass, sports bra sticking to your chest. “they had a stretch reformer bootcamp this week,” you offer weakly.

his brow twitches.

“that’s what you call it?” he asks, walking toward you, loosening his tie. “bootcamp? to lie on your back while some barely-trained teenager straps you into resistance bands and calls it exercise?”

“they do more than that—”

“i can see what they do. your little videos. those slow leg lifts. the air-humping. the stretching. you think that justifies the bill you sent me?” he’s standing close now. close enough that his cologne—clean cedar, leather, citrus undercut with heat—wraps around you like a noose. you smirk, defiant even as your heartbeat stutters. “i’m flexible now,” you say, voice light. “isn’t that worth something?”

he exhales slowly. closes his eyes.

and when he opens them again—

“strip.”

he doesn't let you undress yourself. he does it for you.

then his hands are on your hips, firm and possessive. he turns you. pushes your back against the cold wall of the hallway. one palm finds your throat. not choking—just there. heavy. dominant.

rips the waistband of your leggings down with one brutal tug, dragging them past your knees, your thighs, baring you inch by inch like he’s unwrapping something expensive he owns.

he peels your bra up, off, tossing it behind you with a flick of his wrist.

“so,” he murmurs, voice low as his other hand slips between your legs. “how flexible?” your breath catches. you’re soaked already. your thighs part on instinct, the pulse of need between them aching and slick. he pushes two fingers in. slow. precise. your body clenches.

his voice is a near-growl.

“pathetic,” he mutters. “you’re dripping just from me undressing you. and you spend my money so some stranger can put your legs in the air?” you moan. try to speak. he curls his fingers inside you just enough to make you gasp, then pulls them out and shoves them into your mouth.

“taste it.”

you suck, eyes fluttering.

he grins, slow and mean.

“we’re doing this my way tonight.”

you don’t even understand what’s happening until you’re on the bed, face down, arms yanked back—hard—and your body is suddenly off the mattress. lifted. bent.

“nanami—?”

his hands are under your knees. your arms are over his, bent back. your entire body is suspended in the air, your back arched, your thighs spread wide. his chest is to your back. and you’re held in place by the cage of his arms and the brutal grip of his thighs against yours.

he growls into your neck, “you want flexibility? i’ll show you full extension.”

then he pushes into you.

you scream.

he’s thick. hard. ruthless. your pussy stretches around him so tight you think you might tear. he buries himself to the hilt in a single thrust, cock carving into you like he’s claiming space. you can’t even move. your legs are pinned wide. your arms pulled back. your back arched so deeply that your chest is jutting forward, helpless and trembling.

and he starts to fuck you.

deep. measured. powerful.

his hips slam into your ass with every thrust, every brutal grind of cock against your swollen, aching cunt. your body bounces in his grip, caught, dangling, used. “this what they teach you?” he hisses into your ear. “this angle? this depth? you feel that, baby?”

you sob. nod. can’t speak.

“say it.”

you struggle, mouth open, words choked out with every thrust.

“they—don’t—fuck—me—like—you—do—”

he groans, fucking harder.

“they better not.”

he adjusts his grip, pulling your knees higher. deeper angle. you choke on a scream as he hits something so deep your vision goes white. his mouth is on your shoulder now, teeth dragging over skin, lips slick with sweat and spit and need. he doesn’t stop. not when your pussy spasms around him, clenching like a fist. not when your orgasm crashes into you like a scream trapped inside bone.

he fucks you through it. never slowing. never relenting.

“you want a stretch? i’ll keep you bent like this until your muscles seize.” he groans. pants. and then—he comes. deep inside you. cock pulsing. his hands locked on your body like a cage. he holds you there, suspended, filled.

like a lesson.

after, he lowers you onto the bed like something delicate. ruined. you’re trembling. twitching. your thighs won’t close. his cum leaks out of you in slow, thick drips. his hand brushes your hair back. “next time you want to stretch,” he murmurs, voice rough and dark, “you ask me.”

you nod.

he leans down. kisses your temple. “and if i see one more charge from that place—” his hand slips back between your thighs. “—i’ll fuck you in the lobby.”

TOJI FUSHIGURO

the door slams behind him with enough force to shake the floorboards.

you’re mid-pose. stretched out over a yoga ball in front of the TV, leggings practically painted onto your ass, some workout influencer with a honeyed voice instructing you to breathe through the sacral engagement.

you turn your head, a smirk curling at your mouth.

“hey, babe—home early?”

toji doesn’t answer. he tosses his keys onto the counter, shrugs out of his jacket, and holds something up between two fingers. a receipt. long. curled at the edge. “three sessions in one day?” he asks, voice flat. “you training to be a contortionist now?”

you blink, innocent.

“they had a flexibility workshop.”

“flexibility,” he repeats, stepping forward. “you need them to teach you that?”

you open your mouth to retort—but it dies in your throat when he closes the distance. one hand goes straight to your throat. the other to the back of your head. he grips you—hard—drags you up off the yoga ball, and before you can breathe, he’s got you slammed flat over the kitchen counter. "you think i pay for you to stretch out that tight little pussy in some fancy-ass studio with floor-length mirrors and soy candles? huh?"

your hips writhe, but his hand slaps down hard on your ass.

“answer me.”

“n-no, toji—fuck—i—”

he grabs the waistband of your leggings and rips them. not tugs. not slides. tears. the elastic pops. your panties with them. you’re bare now, bent over the cold counter, pussy slick and already dripping because of course you're soaked from this.

he slides his fingers between your legs. hums.

“so wet just from me walking in. you like getting caught.” you gasp, biting your lip, and he shoves two fingers in. hard. fast. curls them until you cry out. "yeah. that’s what i thought. you fucking brat."

he takes you right there.

no prep. no warning.

one hand between your shoulders, the other pinning your wrists to the counter. he rips his belt open, pulls his cock out—already hard—and thrusts inside in one brutal, merciless motion.

you scream. your body bucks. your eyes roll back.

he’s thick. too big. stretching you wide with no time to adjust. it burns—but god, it’s good.

“this what you wanted?” he growls against your ear. “wanted to see if those yoga freaks could get you as deep as me?” he slams into you again. again. your pussy’s clenching, spasming, trying to take him. failing. it’s too much. and you’re shaking already. his grip moves to your hair. yanks your head back. you’re drooling, eyes unfocused.

he laughs.

“you’re so fucking dumb when i fuck you like this. i should film it. send it to your instructor. ‘here’s your little star pupil—can’t even spell her name with a cock in her.’”

then he really gets mean.

he flips you over like you weigh nothing. tosses you onto the floor in the living room—next to the yoga mat, your smoothie still sweating on the side table—and grabs you. pulls you into his lap. traps your arms. lifts you up, and suddenly—your knees are over his thighs, your legs spread, and your arms are pinned up under his.

full nelson.

you’ve got no leverage. no control. your whole body is open, suspended, split wide.

and then—

he sinks into you again.

hard.

you scream. back arching. vision blurring.

his cock hits everything from this angle. it's like he's splitting you in half. you can't even fight it—your arms are trapped, your legs forced wide, and he’s using your own weight to fuck you down onto his cock over and over again, bouncing you like a toy. “there’s your stretch,” he snarls. “you feel that? you’re so fucking open, i can see my cock through your stomach.”

you sob. try to nod. can't speak.

he’s relentless.

fucking up into you, holding you like a ragdoll, your pussy wrapped tight around him, spasming with every thrust. he’s groaning now—raw, rough, sweat slicking his chest. “you earned this,” he pants. “all that money you spent—now you’re gonna pay it off.” he slams up again. your moan is wrecked.

“with your fucking cunt.”

when you come, it’s violent.

your body seizes, twitching hard in his grip. your pussy milks him. chokes on him. you’re sobbing—babbling nonsense—legs trembling around his waist.

toji groans.

and comes.

deep inside you. thick and hot. filling you up so much you feel it dripping before he even stops. he doesn’t let you go. he just holds you there. cock still buried. chest heaving. “there,” he mutters. “that’s a real full-body workout.”

a beat.

“and baby?” he leans in, voice low and dark against your ear. “next time you spend my fucking money without asking—i’ll fold you backwards.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA

you’d been running your mouth all day.

legs sore from class, tank top sweat-slicked, face flushed with that post-workout glow like you’d actually worked for something.

“my hamstrings are tight,” you’d whined, flopping onto the couch, pushing your ankle onto his thigh like you wanted him to touch you. “we did these deep lunge extensions—my instructor said i’m really flexible now.”

sukuna didn’t say anything then.

just looked at you—eyeing the curve of your ass in those fucking leggings, the way you stretched like you knew he was watching. the bratty smile you gave him when you took the last of his cigarette and didn’t say thank you.

he waited.

waited until now—late evening, when the lights are low and the room smells like smoke and sex and skin—and you’re backed against the wall, your tank top riding high, your panties hanging by a thread, and your leg thrown over his shoulder like it’s nothing.

like you’re just that flexible.

he’s inside you already.

deep.

fucking inches deep.

his cock stretches you wide, thick and brutal, the kind of stretch that burns in your thighs and pulses in your cunt, and he hasn’t even moved yet.

his hands are gripping your hips hard—fingers bruising, rough, possessive—and your heel’s hooked over his shoulder, your other leg barely holding your weight as your back arches into the plaster.

and he just smiles. slow. dangerous.

“look at that,” he murmurs, voice rough silk, hand sliding up the inside of your raised thigh, gripping the meat of it, squeezing. “this how they stretch you in those little classes of yours?”

you try to speak. your mouth opens, but no sound comes out.

he chuckles.

“nah,” he says. “they don’t stretch you like this, do they?”

he thrusts. once. deep.

your breath shatters.

he’s so fucking deep you swear you can feel him in your ribs. your pussy clenches. your hips jerk. your fingers claw at his shoulders, but he doesn’t stop—just keeps you right there, leg hoisted high, body bent and trembling.

“fuck, baby,” he grins, cock sliding out slow before slamming back in. “you’re opening up so easy. maybe those classes are working.”

you moan. broken. breathless.

his hand wraps around your throat.

“you like this, huh? standing here, pussy stretched open, one fucking leg in the air like a good little slut on display?”

“fuck—sukuna—please—”

he rolls his hips, angling his thrusts to grind against your g-spot, relentless and deep.

you sob. your thighs tremble.

he groans, filthy and low, lips brushing the curve of your jaw.

“you feel that stretch in your hips, sweetheart? in your cunt?”

he thrusts again—hard—makes your whole body bounce against the wall.

“this is real flexibility,” he growls. “this is what i pay for.”

his mouth is everywhere—your neck, your shoulder, your tits—teeth grazing, lips sucking, tongue trailing fire down your throat. and the whole time, his cock keeps slamming into you, dragging moans from your chest you didn’t know you could make.

you’re babbling now. drunk on him. on how deep he is. on the burn in your thighs and the slick squelch of your soaked cunt every time he pulls out and drives back in. “so fucking tight,” he pants. “and still taking it all. you feel how wide i’ve got you open?” his thumb drops to your clit. rubs circles—mean, precise, perfect.

you cry out. jerk.

“uh-uh,” he hisses, pinning your hips. “don’t move. hold the leg. keep it up. you want to be flexible, brat? show me.” your muscles scream. your body shakes. but you obey. because he’s so deep. so rough. so fucking good.

he kisses your throat.

“attagirl.”

and when he comes?

when you come—it’s violent. sudden. full-body.

your vision flares. you scream, cunt clenching around him so tight he groans, hips stuttering, face buried in your neck as he fucks you through it, doesn’t slow, doesn’t let up.

it’s deep.

a growl ripped from his chest, cock twitching inside you as he fills you up with so much cum it leaks out around him even before he pulls out. you’re shaking. leg still hoisted. mouth open. whole body limp. he finally lowers your leg.

lets you collapse against him, his arms wrapping around you, hand cradling the back of your head like you’re breakable. then, low against your ear: “that’s the only stretch that matters.”

SHIU KONG

he doesn’t say a word when he gets home. not when he finds your receipt on the bathroom counter—fifty-two thousand yen for a reformer stretch package. not when he sees you on the couch, barefoot, bare-legged, sipping an iced matcha like it wasn’t paid for with his blood money.

just drops his phone. loosens his tie. and walks over to you with that expression—tight mouth, heavy brow. all controlled violence. you glance up. blink.

“what?”

he sits beside you.

silent.

and grabs your jaw.

not roughly. not yet. just enough to tilt your face to his. “get on the floor,” he says, calm. cool. deadly. “face down. knees wide.”

you pause.

“…what?”

his hand slides to your throat. squeezes, just a little. eyes dark.

“you heard me.”

he doesn’t strip you all the way. just yanks your panties down and pushes your little workout shorts to the side, your tank top rucked up above your hips. he wants you dressed for this. dressed like the spoiled little slut you are.

“this is called frog pose, right?” he murmurs, gripping your ankles and dragging them wide. “hips open, knees bent. cute little ass in the air.” your face burns. the stretch in your thighs is deep, your cunt already throbbing from being so exposed, so vulnerable. your chest is flat to the rug, back arched, legs splayed.

and then you feel it.

his cock.

thick. hard. dragging along your slit, teasing. mean.

“you want mobility?” he mutters. “i’ll give you mobility.”

he pushes in—slow. thick. stretching you until your mouth opens around a gasp and your fingers clutch at the carpet. your pussy sucks him in, inch by inch, until he’s deep, hips flush against the meat of your ass.

and then he stays there.

hands on your lower back. holding you open.

"fuck," he breathes. "look at how deep i am in this position. you feel that?" you try to move—try to rock back onto him—but his palm lands hard across your ass, the smack echoing in the room. “don’t move,” he growls. “just stay open. let me fuck you like this.”

and then he starts.

his hips snap forward. hard. again. again.

each thrust punches a cry out of your chest, muffled against the carpet, your body rocking from the force of it. he grabs your wrists, yanks them behind your back, pins them with one hand, and uses the other to shove your hips down, locking you in place. “this what you pay them for?” he growls. “to stretch your hips? your back?”

he slams into you, balls slapping, breath hot over your spine.

“they fuck you like this, sweetheart?”

you shake your head, sobbing.

he leans down, lips brushing your ear.

“say it.”

“no—fuck—no one does but you—”

he groans. thrusts harder. his cock hits so deep it feels like your guts rearrange every time. your knees tremble. thighs ache. the stretch is insane—but you can’t stop coming, pussy clenching, walls fluttering, drooling around his cock with every filthy grind of his hips. "jesus," he pants, “this cunt was made to stay open like this.”

and when he comes?

he stays inside. grinds deep. dumps every drop into your spasming cunt and keeps it in you with a hard slap to your ass and a hand dragging down your spine.

after?

you’re still face-down, body limp, legs aching from the stretch. shiu pulls your panties back up. kisses your thigh. smooths your hair. and murmurs, low and serious: “next time you want to stretch—” his hand cups your sore, slick cunt. “—you ask.”

HIGURUMA HIROMI

it starts with the door clicking shut.

you’re home before him, sprawled on his couch in one of his button-down shirts—open, loose, your tank top tight underneath, your bare legs tucked up beneath you. the TV is on. you’re sipping kombucha like you pay for it.

he enters in silence.

shoes off. briefcase down. suit jacket hung neatly over the hook. tie loosened. he doesn’t speak. not until he stands in the doorway between living room and hall, holding a piece of paper like a verdict. long receipt. high total. you glance over. sip.

“…that from the studio?”

he lifts one brow. folds it. sets it on the table.

"forty-seven thousand,” he says calmly. “for one week.”

you blink. “it's—private sessions.”

“i can see that.” he steps closer. “what exactly do they do to you in these sessions?” you tilt your head, smirk already crawling to your mouth. “stretch me out.” he breathes in. slow. nostrils flare. you can feel the temperature shift.

“get up.”

he doesn’t speak again until you’re backed into the bedroom, his hand wrapped gently—too gently—around your wrist, and his voice low.

“take your clothes off.”

you blink.

he leans in. kisses your cheek. “slowly.”

you do. piece by piece. he watches. the shirt slides down your arms. your tank top peels over your head. your sports bra falls away—no noise, no rush. panties next. his eyes stay on you the entire time. and when you’re finally bare, standing quiet, naked and still in front of him—

he moves.

you don’t realize what he’s doing until your back hits the window. one hand cups your thigh, pulls it up. higher. higher—until your knee’s nearly pressed to your chest, the other foot flat on the floor, your heel hooked over his shoulder. he adjusts his grip—one hand under your thigh, the other on your waist, thumb brushing just under your breast.

and then—

he pushes in.

slow. deliberate. devastating.

your eyes roll. your mouth opens in a gasp you don’t finish, because he’s deep—so fucking deep in this angle, cock hitting every spot you didn’t know you had. your pussy flutters, clenching around him already. “you’re silent now,” he murmurs. you try to breathe. try to speak. “what happened to that mouth?” he rocks his hips forward. not fast. not brutal. just deep. intentional.

in control.

“they stretch you like this?” he says softly, tone clinical. “push your leg up here, keep your pussy open while they slide inside?” you whimper. shake your head.

his voice stays level. “answer.”

“n-no—fuck, hiromi—just you—only you—”

his mouth presses to your neck. he still doesn’t speed up. just keeps your body exactly where he wants it—your leg over his shoulder, your hips tilted perfectly, his cock dragging deep and slow inside your cunt, every motion pressing you harder against the glass.

you’re dripping.

he feels it.

your slick is painting his cock, soaking the front of his slacks, your inner thigh shining in the low light.

“flexible,” he murmurs, dragging his hand up to your ribs, thumb brushing under your breast again. “but not enough.” he pulls out—slow—until just the tip remains. and slams back in. your scream shatters the quiet. his fingers grip your throat—not tight, just there, grounding. a point of contact. “you’ll hold this position,” he says. “until i finish.”

he fucks you like that for what feels like hours. never too fast. never losing rhythm. just deep, hard strokes. your leg high. trembling. your foot still braced on the floor, trying to hold balance while he uses you against the window like a study in anatomy.

your orgasm comes without warning—tight, sharp, full-body. your cunt clenches, spasming, walls squeezing so tight he groans. but he doesn’t stop. just fucks you through it, even deeper. “you’ll give me another,” he murmurs. “legs this flexible, you can take two.”

you sob.

“three.”

his hand dips between your legs. finds your clit.

“four.”

he finishes inside you.

still holding your leg high, cock buried deep, cum leaking down your thigh. your head lolls against the window. the city lights blur. he lowers your leg slowly. kisses your forehead. adjusts your hair with one hand. straightens your back. then murmurs— “next time you want a stretch, you’ll do it here. for free.”

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