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fairy-angel222 · 1 year ago

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𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

—gojo’s single and geto’s a good friend. good friends share everything.. including girlfriends

pairing: gojo x fem! reader x geto

content: crack, smut, threesome, praise, cum eating (gojo), pussy eating, blowjobs, cream pie, throat bulge, throat fucking, tag team, playful banter, squirting

Geto thinks he’s a great friend. Being willing to share his precious girlfriend with his best friend. He’s seen the way Gojo looks at you. And he’s not mad, no, he’s quite happy. It makes using you as a gift so much easier— especially when he knows you get wet at just the thought of a threesome with the white haired man.

“I am not lonely. I could go get a quick fuck right now if i wanted too.” Gojo defended, taking another gulp of the beer in his hand as he leaned back into the couch.

“Hmm, i smell lies, you’re very lonely this season.” you teased, giggling softly when Gojo glared at you with the flip of his middle finger. You gasped dramatically, turning to Geto with a pout, “Baby your friend just flipped me off.”

Geto simply smiled at you with the shake of his head, taking a quick swig of his drink before he was wrapping his arm around your shoulders. Pulling you into him and placing an especially wet kiss onto your head. “Don’t disrespect my girl bro.” He joked along, Gojo only scoffing before flipping him off too. “I’m being targeted by weirdos. Great.”

“Weirdos who aren’t single. Can’t relate now can you?” you retorted with a grin. Gojo finally letting out a chuckle, “Ya got me there.” downing the remaining contents of the bottle. “I’m gonna get another one, you guys want any?” he questioned, standing up to head to the kitchen.

“Oo, yes please.” you piped in cheerily, Geto’s head snapping towards you with an eyebrow raised. “Uh, no. She’ll just have a coke or something. But i’ll take one.” Geto corrected.

Gojo nodded, making his way past the dining area and into the kitchen to open the fridge.

Geto winced lightly when you pinched his side. “Why can’t i have one?” you whined. Geto pinching your cheeks with a faux frown, “because your alcohol tolerance is too damn low.” You simply huffed, fiddling absentmindedly with the hem of your boyfriend’s sweater.

“So, is it still happening?” you questioned in a whisper, a smirk forming on your boyfriend’s face as he brought the bottle to his lips to empty it out. “Mhm.”

Gojo came strolling back into the room with two opened drinks and a cherry flavored soft drink. And you fought the urge to roll your eyes when he handed one bottle to Geto and the red colored drink to you. A smile on his face as he bit back his teasing words about Geto not letting you drink alcohol.

Geto cleared his throat, setting down the drink and placing his hand on your thigh. Squeezing as he travelled it higher and higher, his breath hot on your ear when he leaned in. “That’s your queue baby.”

Your face heated up, watching as Gojo raised an eyebrow across from you, taking a swig at his drink after mumbling “fucking weirdos i swear.”

Getting off your seat, you bit at your lip as you looked back at Geto. Your boyfriend only giving you a reassuring nod before his drink was at his lips, watching as you almost shyly walked up to Gojo.

Sitting yourself on his lap with practically no warning making the man’s eyes widen. “What are you-” being cut off by your lips on his, your ass lightly grinding on his cock as you gripped his shirt. Gojo’s eyes met Geto’s in panic, the latter simply tilting his head, “Better enjoy it while you can.”

Gojo groaned, your hands slipping under his shirt to run your nails over his hard abs. Slowly bringing them down until you stopped at the bulge in his sweats, groping it through the fabric before smiling as you pulled away. “You’re already hard?” you giggled.

“Shut up.” His face flushing red as you got off of his lap, situating yourself on your knees between his legs. Your hands working to pull his pants down mid thigh, your head in his crotch as you licked a strike along his cock through his underwear. Looking up at him through your lashes before freeing him from the thin black fabric

Gojo nearly choked on his spit, watching as you ran your thumb over his tip. Collecting glistening precum before using it to stroke him, circling your wrist while you moved it up and down. “S-shit.”

Your eyes met his cock with a hard swallow at the length. Taking in a breath before sucking him into your mouth. Swirling your tongue around his leaking tip then taking him in deeper. Bobbing your head up and down as your drool coated his veiny skin.

You could hear Geto standing up behind you, reaching your kneeling frame in two large steps before his hand was stroking your hair. “She’s good ain’t she?”

Gojo only letting out a cracked moan as he nodded. Geto’s hand suddenly grabbing hold of your hair to quicken the pace of your mouth. “But trust me, she can be better.” Roughly pushing you to take Gojo down your throat before pulling you back up again. Repeating the process as you slobbered onto the man’s dick with muffled moans.

Your eyes pooled with water each time your boyfriend forced you to take his best friend all the way. Gojo’s cock bulging in your throat as your nose pressed at his base. “See that?” Geto hummed.

Gojo’s mouth hung open in breathy grunts as he began thrusting his hips upwards. Head falling back onto the back of the couch with his breathing speeding up. Basking in the way his best friend used your warm mouth to fuck his twitching cock. “F-fucking hell— ahh.”

“Good girl” Geto dragged out. “gonna make him cum already.” he praised, “Wonder how long it has been since he’s felt a pretty girl’s lips on his cock.”

Gojo grunted, “f-fuck o-off, shit—” a loud groan sounding in his throat when he began to spill into your mouth. His body shuddering when you continued to suck on his tip while maintaining eye contact. His cock throbbing as the last bits of cum spurted onto your tongue.

“Now what do you do?” Geto asked with a smirk, watching you swallow the thick substance before glancing between the both of them with a smile. “That’s my girl.”

Gojo panted with heavy breaths, receiving a pat on his shoulder from the black haired man. “That’s not even the half of it.”

It wasn’t long until you found yourself on your hands and knees. Geto’s cock down your throat as Gojo fucked into you from behind. “Is this what you like baby?” your boyfriend groaned, Gojo’s rough thrusts effectively rocking your mouth on and off of Geto’s cock. “Showing this lone fucker how good your pussy feels?” Gojo being too lost in how deep you were sucking him in to even respond.

You mewled, clenching down on Gojo’s cock as he hammered into your g spot. His thick length easily sliding in and out your tightness.

Gojo’s hand groped at the flesh of your ass, the sound of his hips slamming onto your flesh only getting louder when he sped up his pace. Allowing his tip to graze your gummy walls with force. “Haah- think this might just be the best pussy i’ve ever had.”

“Hear that baby? He loves that perfect pussy of yours.” Geto breathed, his eyes closing as he used his hand to guide your head faster. “Shit. Swear that mouth of yours is made of gold.”

You let out a muffled cry when you felt a coil build in your stomach. Your body still being jerked between the two men as you drooled onto your boyfriend’s cock. Your back arching when Gojo leaned onto you, his chest against your back as he brought his hand down to rub your clit. Your loud mewl sending vibrations through Geto’s dick.

Gojo groaned into your ear. “You feel so good pretty girl. Wish i could fuck into this pussy forever.” His thrusts getting sloppy as he moaned noisily into your neck, his eyes fixed on the way your swollen lips had stretched to fit his best friend’s girth. “O-oh shit— clenching down on me so tight.” he rasped into your skin, voice cracking into a higher pitch at the feeling of your warmth ready to milk him dry.

Geto pulled you off his cock with a grin, watching as you whimpered before taking in a well needed breath, your chest rising and falling as your eyes lost their focus. “Nnhg— Suguru, ah- Satoru, ‘m close,” you cried out, feeling yourself getting closer as Gojo continued to rub small circles on your sensitive bud, his cock hitting deep inside you with each movement

“Yeah baby? Gonna show him just how good he made you feel?” Geto husked, pulling your head back onto him before you could even nod in response, using your mouth as a wet flesh light to get him off the edge.

Gojo groaned loudly, his thrusts hard and mean as they lost their speed. Rolling his hips desperately into yours to chase his release. “Shit, can i cum in ya, pretty?”

You were only able to let out an incoherent babble, feeling the coil in your stomach painfully close to snapping.

“Don’t push it.” Geto warned, your chin getting messy as he lazily fucked your face, his head falling back with a string of deep curses.

“Selfish prick.”

“You’re fucking her aren’t you?”

Your body shook as you came, whimpering with a broken cry around Geto’s cock as your pussy spasmed. Eyes rolling back and your head fuzzy as you gushed messily. The force of your orgasm threatening to make Gojo’s cock slip out.

“There you go baby.” Geto started, Gojo finishing his words as he slowed his movements on your clit, “That’s it.”

Both men breathed heavily as their movements came to a halt. Geto holding your face down on his cock to spurt ropes of his cum down your throat.

“Suguru- fuck, please let me cum in her. Tight pussy doesn’t want to let me go.” Gojo moaned out, pleading blue eyes looking up to your boyfriend.

“You do that and you’re gonna lick it all out.” Geto growled out, tapping his cock onto your tongue a few times before he was pulling out. Watching as you moaned softly when his cum slid down your throat.

Gojo’s lips parted as his cock ached for a release. Deciding to take his chance at burying himself inside you, his twitching cock pumping thick ropes of cum into you. Looking up to meet your boyfriend’s fake grin.

“Baby, lay down, and you, better get every fucking drop outta her.”

Gojo pervertedly smiling as he willingly crawled in between your legs. Lapping at your sopping folds and swirling his tongue around your clit as you moaned and mewled into the air.

Your fingers tangling in white strands as his tongue dipped into your hole, sucking a mixture of your juices and his cum into his mouth with a groan.

Geto let out a short laugh in amusement, “So this is what a lack of pussy does to a guy.” Watching as Gojo licked you clean, bringing you to another squirting orgasm in the process.

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mssishipi · 1 month ago

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SPEED IT UP — pjs

— BMW luxury, but make it filthy.

content tags: established relationship, profanities, dangerous driving lol, bratty? reader (she's so down bad), explicit content (smut): semi-public, oral (m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming, somnophilia. MDNI! WC:6.7k

"No smoking inside the car."

You rolled your eyes but didn't argue, the weight of the cigarette between your fingers grounding you in the chill of the early morning. The air was thick with dew, mist curling around the trees.

You huffed quietly, turning to toss your duffel bag into the backseat with a soft thud. With one last drag, you inhaled deeply, letting the burn settle in your chest before flicking the stub to the gravel and grinding it beneath your boot.

It was 4 AM. The forest around the cabin still hummed with nocturnal life. Jay leaned against the car, door already open, engine off. The soft yellow dome light cast a glow over his profile.

"Come on, baby. Gotta hurry up. Sun's gonna catch us if we don't move," he said.

You didn't reply immediately. Just gave a low hum, your brow knitting as you brushed invisible ash from your crop top and walked around to the passenger side. Sliding in, you exhaled slowly and popped open the glove compartment, grabbing the half-used bottle of alcohol spray. The plastic crackled under your grip.

You sprayed your palms, rubbed it down your arms, neck, even your chest—anywhere the smoke might've clung. The chemical tang stung your nose, but it was better than the stale scent of cigarettes. You hated smelling like it around Jay, even if he didn't seem to care. It made you feel careless.

You tucked the crumpled pack of Marlboro Reds into the compartment and shut it.

"Why won't you let me hit some in here?" you asked, half-joking, half-serious, already settling into the seat as he started the engine. "We could just crack the window."

"It'll still smell around the car, baby," Jay said, not looking at you. He reached over and tapped the center console. "Just grab a lollipop in there. Cherry or something."

You sighed, opening it to see a few crumpled wrappers, some candy sticks, loose change. You pulled out a lollipop and unwrapped it lazily, slipping it between your lips. The taste was artificial, sharp and sweet. Not the same, but it would do.

Jay started the engine with a soft rumble, the dashboard lights glowing a muted blue in the dimness. You leaned back against the passenger seat, eyes drifting to the scenery slipping past the window, dense trees, low-hanging mist, an occasional flicker of distant headlights disappearing into the curve of the road.

The AC in the BMW kicked in, instantly cooling the cabin. Jay reached forward and turned on the stereo. A mellow playlist filled the space—lo-fi beats and slow, grooving instrumentals that matched the stillness outside. He adjusted the mirror, then placed both hands on the wheel.

You glanced at him. He was always like this when he drove, silent, too concentrated. No conversation, no music requests, no touching. Just the road, it annoyed you a little, though you understood it in some part of your brain you weren't in the mood to access.

An hour passed. Your lollipop was down to the dry nub of the stick, which you lazily chewed until it bent. You flicked it into an empty bottle in the cupholder and sighed, scrolling through your phone for something or anything worth looking at. There wasn't. Notifications were dry, feed was stale, and none of your apps offered enough distraction to fight the weight of the boredom settling in.

You tried to nap, leaning your head against the window, but the vibrations of the car and the occasional curve in the road jolted you awake every few minutes. The silence stretched. Jay didn't even glance at you. Always so damn responsible when behind the wheel.

You stared at the glove compartment.

You didn't have a cigarette problem. You weren't addicted. It was just comfort. A way to shake the fog in your brain, to make the dullness float away. A cigarette wasn't a need. It was a solution.

You shifted in your seat, groaning softly. "Jayyyy," you whined, dragging his name out like a child begging for candy. You popped another lollipop into your mouth. "It's so boring."

You lifted your legs, planting your feet on the dashboard, angling your knees toward him. Not to annoy him. Not just to annoy him.

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye but said nothing.

You pouted, your voice a little softer, a little more teasing now. "C'mon, babe. Say something. Look at me. Do something. I'm rotting in here."

Jay didn't bite. His eyes stayed forward, hands steady on the wheel. "My iPad's in the bag. Play some Block Blast or something," he said casually.

You rolled your eyes, clicking your tongue against the lollipop in your mouth. Your gaze shifted again to the glove compartment. You needed to hit a cigarette—desperately. The urge itched at the back of your throat.

"I need to suck cigs. Please," you whined, putting your palms together in mock prayer, bottom lip jutting out in the most dramatic pout you could manage.

Jay flicked his gaze toward you, just for a second, then back to the road.

"Baby, I told you. You can't," he said gently.

That tone. Soft like a warning wrapped in velvet. You sighed, sinking into your seat. You wanted to be annoyed. You wanted to roll your eyes and push more. But it was Jay. And when he said no like that, so calm, so controlled—it didn't piss you off.

You rested your head back, still pouting. "I'll blow it outside, promise. I'll even hang half my body out the window if I have to," you mumbled, trying again.

He chuckled under his breath. "Just stick with the lollipop for a while," he said, "I'm not against you smoking, even if it wrecks your lungs. Just... know when to pull back. Put it in the right place, baby. Okay?"

The way he said it, respectful, with just a trace of that steady dominance. Not a scolding, not a demand. Just Jay, being Jay. Always that calm force in the middle of your chaos. He didn't shame you, didn't raise his voice. He just held you there in his orbit, and somehow that was hotter than any fight.

God, the way he lectured you like that, so soft, so unbothered made your thighs press just a little tighter together.

You turned your head, resting your cheek against the seat, eyes fixed on him from the corner of your gaze. The stick of the lollipop shifted between your lips, and you bit down gently, letting it click against your teeth.

The cigarette could wait.

A minute passed, maybe more, but you didn't notice. You were too focused on him. The way his hands gripped the steering wheel, veins visible beneath the smooth stretch of his skin, tendons flexing subtly with every slight turn. The road curved gently, and his knuckles followed.

His hair was down, bangs loose and framing his face, still slightly messy from the rush of getting up so early. It added to the casual, half-wild allure he wore without trying. The strands brushed against his cheeks just right, softening the sharp angles of his jaw while somehow making it look even more defined. The slope of his nose, the quiet focus in his eyes, the way his lips pressed into that unconscious pout whenever he was thinking.

Then your gaze dropped.

His thighs. Thick and tense beneath his joggers, spread just enough to make the posture feel unconsciously dominant. You watched the muscles shift slightly as he adjusted in his seat, the fabric stretching across the solid shape of them, giving away more than you knew he intended. The heat in your stomach pooled lower, slow and heavy.

Jay looked so hot right now.

You sucked slowly on the lollipop, the cherry flavor suddenly feeling too sweet, too on-the-nose, as your tongue toyed with it lazily. Your eyes traveled back up, lingering on the slope of his neck, the faint line of his collarbone visible through the stretched collar of his hoodie.

How could he be this attractive without doing anything?

He wasn't even looking at you.

Your voice slipped out before you could second-guess it, "I want to suck you off."

Jay let out a short laugh, the kind that vibrated through his chest more than his throat. His hand came down from the wheel, resting on your thigh. His palm was warm, fingers steady as they began to rub up and down—slow and absent-minded.

"Yeah?" he murmured, not taking his eyes off the road. His thumb slid just a little higher on the inside of your thigh. "That lollipop not doing it for you anymore?"

You smirked around the candy, pressing your knees together, feeling the throb pulse through you as his hand stayed exactly where it was, teasing you. Jay was always like that, he never rushed. Always knew exactly how to make you fall apart while he stayed in control.

It was unfair how good he was at it.

"You're so hot, fuck. I'm horny," you whined, shifting in your seat.

Your hips arched subtly, your body leaning closer toward him, craving proximity, anything that could bridge the space between his restraint and your need. You tugged the lollipop from your mouth, your lips slightly parted, breath warm.

Without another word, you leaned in and kissed the forming bulge in his joggers.

Jay hissed through his teeth, his hand tightening briefly on the wheel. "Wait, baby... this is a highway. I can't pull over right now."

But you weren't listening.

Your fingers worked fast, tugging down the waistband of his joggers just enough to free him. His cock sprang upward, hard and flushed, thick against the cool air of the car.

Your mouth watered at the sight, breath catching at the heat radiating off his skin. You leaned in, inhaling—soap-clean with a trace of sweat and something purely him. The scent only worsened the ache between your thighs, your panties already damp, your body begging for friction.

You pressed a kiss to the base, then another up the shaft, taking your time. Jay's breath grew heavier, chest rising a little faster beneath his hoodie.

"Baby—fuck—stop," he groaned, his voice strained but still trying to stay composed. "I could totally crash the car right now."

You just hummed around him as you let your lips part wider, taking the thick head of his cock slowly past your tongue. He was heavy and hot, stretching your mouth already, and you hadn't even gotten halfway down.

The cherry lollipop was still clutched loosely in your hand, forgotten now as the stereo played on, low beats humming through the BMW's speaker system, a lazy backdrop to your sin.

The cold air from the AC kissed your skin, but your body was burning, flushed and restless. The interior of the car is smooth leather, subtle lighting, the muted rumble of the road beneath. It felt far too intimate now. Comfortable, yes. Spacious? Not really. But maybe that made it even hotter.

You adjusted your position, knees curled beneath you as you leaned over the console, one hand braced against the seat. Not exactly ideal for sex but the idea sparked inside you anyway. You and Jay had never tried it in a moving car. And right now, with your mouth full of him and your panties soaked through, it was hard to think of why not.

"Baby..." Jay's voice broke again, raspier now. His other hand left the wheel, then tangled in your hair, fingers flexing as you took more of him into your mouth. The muscles in his thigh twitched beneath your palm. You felt the car lurch forward slightly, speed climbing.

You pulled back just a little, teasing the tip with your tongue, then swallowed him again, deeper, your throat beginning to ache in the best way. Your saliva coated him, warm and slick, and his low moan echoed under the pulse of the bass-heavy track on the stereo.

"You're going to kill us both—oh God," Jay breathed out, his hand clenched tighter in your hair, the other white-knuckling the steering wheel.

His hips jolted forward, enough to make you take him deeper, feel him press against the tight clutch of your throat. You gagged, eyes watering slightly, the sensation just on that edge of unbearable but you loved it.

You glanced up through your lashes. His profile was everything. Lips parted, panting. Brows drawn tight. Jaw clenched so hard the muscles jumped under the skin. His focus was fractured now, no longer completely on the road.

And fuck, that made him even hotter.

You moaned around him, muffled and needy, the vibration making his cock twitch against your tongue. You needed more. You began to bob your head faster, greedier, your spit slicking him all the way to the base. The wet sound of your mouth choking on him grew louder, rising above the hum of the stereo and the increasingly erratic purr of the engine.

"Shit—fuck, baby—" Jay hissed, and you felt the car jerk slightly, a small swerve. His hand stayed tight in your hair, guiding you just enough. You could feel his restraint crumbling with every second, every stroke of your tongue, every time you swallowed around him.

Your body moved with the car, every sudden jolt of speed, every shift of the wheel. Your hips instinctively rolled against the seat, legs squeezing together as your own arousal throbbed, hot and insistent. You could barely think past it.

His foot slammed harder on the pedal. The BMW roared forward.

You gasped around him but didn't stop, not even when he made a sharp, desperate turn onto a gravel pull-off, the tires crunching and skidding slightly. Trees blurred past the window, then the car jerked to a stop, engine still running, headlights slicing through early-morning mist.

That's when his hips snapped forward. Fast, and rough, he groaned your name as he began thrusting into your mouth, not giving you a second to breathe. His composure shattered completely. Both hands now tangled in your hair, guiding you down, using your mouth with a desperation you'd never seen from him before.

You took it. Gagging around him, drool slipping past your lips and down your chin, your eyes locked on his face. He was gone, lost in the feeling, in you, in the heat of your mouth and the pressure building in his core. You could feel it. The way his thighs trembled. The way his rhythm became erratic. The way he started whispering curses under his breath.

"Fuck, fuck, baby—don't stop—don't fucking stop," he growled, voice cracking, head falling back against the seat.

Your hands gripped his thighs, holding yourself steady as his thrusts grew wild.

"I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum." he gasped, hips jerking up into your throat one last time.

With a final, broken groan, his whole body locked—hips freezing, muscles taut, cock pulsing hard between your lips. Hot, thick release spilled down your throat, and you moaned around him as you swallowed, tongue cradling every last drop. Your eyes fluttered shut, rolling back just slightly as you held him there, savoring it.

You slowly pulled off, his cock twitching slightly as it slid from your lips. A slick string of saliva stretched between you and him.

Jay collapsed back against the seat with a shaky exhale, head tilted, eyes shut. He reached down and adjusted the seat, giving you more room but his cock was still hard as fuck, standing proud, flushed a deep red and glistening. Not even release could cool the heat between you now.

With a quiet rustle, you slipped your bottoms off, panties and all, tossing them into the backseat without a thought. The cold air brushed against your bare skin, but the heat inside you burned hotter. You popped the lollipop back into your mouth, sucking lazily as you climbed into his lap, knees on either side of him.

Jay's eyes opened slowly, hazy with lust, the corner of his mouth twitching into a grin.

"Come here," he growled.

You settled over him, letting your soaked pussy drag along the length of his cock, his tip brushing your clit with every rock of your hips. Your head fell back instantly, a soft cry slipping from your lips as you circled your hips.

"Ahhh—fuck," you moaned, dragging your folds across him again and again, letting the friction tease you both to the edge.

Jay's hands flew to your hips, then lower, one of them cupping your mound, fingers spreading your lips, rubbing slow, delicious circles near your clit. The wetness was obscene, your arousal practically dripping onto his length, coating him in slick heat.

"Jesus Christ," he hissed, eyes fixed between your legs. "Your pussy's fucking soaked—fuck, baby. You're fucking dripping."

You whimpered, rolling your hips down into his touch, desperate for more.

"I can't help it," you panted, voice slurred slightly as the lollipop shifted in your mouth. "You're so fucking handsome—God, you look so good when you're trying not to lose control. Makes me wanna—ahhh!"

Your words cut off in a cry as Jay pushed two fingers into you. Your body clenched around him instantly, hips jerking down to meet the rhythm he set. He knew exactly where to curl them, just the right angle to pull sounds out of you.

"My pretty baby," Jay murmured, eyes locked on your face, drinking in the way it contorted with need. His thumb brushed your clit while his fingers pumped steadily, coaxing every ounce of slick from your cunt.

You were riding his hand now, shameless, grinding yourself down on his palm. Jay leaned up, his lips brushing against your jaw, hot breath ghosting over your skin. "Makes you wanna what, baby? Don't hold out on me. Say it."

You whimpered, rocking harder into his hand. "M-Makes me wanna ride your fat cock. Fuck, Jay, I want it so bad—want you to fill me up till I'm leaking all over your lap."

He groaned deep in his chest, teeth grazing your neck, and just as your back arched and hit the steering wheel—honk!

The car horn blared suddenly, sharp and loud, slicing through the haze of lust.

You both froze for half a second, startled then burst into low laughter. Jay reached down with his free hand and killed the engine, the dashboard lights dimming as silence fell. Except for the slick, wet rhythm of his fingers still inside you.

"Fuck," he grinned, voice low and ragged. "You're about to make me wreck and get us arrested, all in the same damn hour."

You moaned, grinding your hips harder, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Then shut up and fuck me, Jay. I need your cock. Now."

"Take it then," he growled, pulling his fingers free with a slick pop and grabbing the base of his cock, still hard, flushed, glistening with precum. "You want it so bad? Show me. Get yourself on it. Ride it like you mean it."

You didn't hesitate. One hand braced on the headrest behind him, the other guiding him to your entrance, you eased down onto his length with a moan that scraped from your throat. The stretch burned in the best way. He filled you completely, inch by inch, thick and hot, and by the time your hips met his, you were trembling.

"So big," you gasped. You rocked your hips once, then again rising up just enough for his tip to almost slip out before dropping back down, hard enough to make the slap of skin-on-skin echo off the leather interior.

Jay groaned beneath you, his head tipping back, one hand gripping your waist while the other fisted the edge of the seat.

Your mouth hung open, saliva slicking your lower lip, too lost in the pulse of your body to even speak. Your rhythm picked up, your hips grinding in slow, firm circles between thrusts, making him hit every sensitive spot inside you.

Jay's eyes locked onto your face, then dropped lower to your bouncing tits, to your soaked thighs, to where you were stretched around him. He bit his bottom lip and reached up without a word, fingers slipping the lollipop from between your lips.

He popped it into his own mouth, sucking lazily as he watched you ride his cock. "Mmm," he moaned, sugar-sweet and sex-drunk. "Taste even better when it's mixed with your spit."

"F-fuck, Jay," you whimpered, hands sliding up his chest, nails scraping over his hoodie.

You rolled your hips harder, faster. Your clit dragging against his pelvis with each bounce, making you cry out. You didn't care how filthy you looked, how loud, how desperate, you wanted more.

Jay shifted beneath you, planting his feet firmly, bracing himself and then thrusting up to meet you, perfectly timed as you came down. The angle was brutal, perfect, splitting you open so deep your head snapped back.

Your mouth fell open in a voiceless scream, hands flying to his shoulders, gripping him.

"Fucking ride it," Jay growled, breath ragged. "You wanna act like a needy little brat? Then prove it. Show me how fucking bad you want this cock. Work for it."

He punctuated the words by slapping your tits twice, and quick smacks that made you clench around him involuntarily.

You gasped, back arching as your pussy squeezed him tight. He yanked your crop top up with one hand, tugged your bra over your tits and latched onto one nipple, rolling it between his fingers, tossing the lollipop into the cupholder, he then leaned in and sucked the other into his mouth.

You bounced faster, trying to keep pace with the relentless rhythm, but the space was killing you. The roof of the car pressed against your head every time you moved too high. Your thighs screamed from the cramped position, the passenger seat squeaking beneath your frantic movement.

The air was hot with your breath, the windows had fogged completely now, blurred shapes of the outside world lost behind the film of heat and sweat.

"Jayy," you whined, voice cracking as your rhythm faltered. You were drenched in sweat, your skin slipping under his grip. "C-can't—fucking—move!"

He pulled back from your chest, mouth wet, lips slightly swollen from how hard he'd been sucking on you. His gaze found yours, and the wicked amusement behind it made your stomach twist.

"You're the one who begged for this," he murmured. He dipped his head again, tongue flicking lazily over your tender skin, circling your areola in slow, deliberate licks that made your spine arch involuntarily. "What, already worn out?"

"M-My legs," you breathed, nails digging into his shoulders for support, "they're cramping. I can't—I can't take it anymore, Jay. Please."

Your body was shaking from the strain. Every joint, every muscle begged for relief, but the heat building inside you was still screaming for more. It was maddening—to be this close and unable to keep going.

Jay exhaled through his nose, a quiet scoff that bordered on a laugh. "Could've just said you wanted me to take over," he muttered, the smirk returning to his lips as he slid his hands under your thighs. "But sure, cry about it first."

With a sudden shift, he lifted you off him, just enough to reposition and then he lowered the seat back, just a little, giving himself more room. His hands stayed firm on your hips, guiding you down slowly, letting gravity do the work as he filled you again, inch by throbbing inch.

"Lie back," he said, his tone low. "Let me fuck you properly."

Your back hit the steering wheel again, but this time it didn't matter. You let yourself collapse forward, resting your head on his shoulder as your body trembled around him.

He adjusted his grip, thrusting up into you, slow, controlled movements at first, deep and precise. You gasped, voice caught in your throat. Your entire body tensed around him.

"Yeah," he breathed into your ear, one hand slipping between your legs again. "That's it. Let me feel you give up. Let me do all the work now. Since my pretty girl wore herself out."

You whimpered, nodding weakly, surrendering everything.

Jay wrapped his arms around you, holding you close for a moment, before he shifted again beneath you. He adjusted his angle, pulled you flush against him, and drove his hips up.

He slammed into you so deep it knocked the air right out of your lungs.

Your voice cracked in a strangled cry, your body going rigid, then melting around him, clenching tight, pulsing with desperate need. You buried your face in his neck, moaning helplessly.

"Shit," he growled, his breath vibrating against your cheek. "This pussy's choking me. So tight. So fucking hot."

His grip on your hips tightened, fingers digging into the softness. He was fucking you from below with complete control, every upward snap of his hips is bruising

You could barely keep your hands still. They roamed without direction—slapping blindly against the fogged window, leaving streaks and prints as your body rocked against the glass. Then they were at his shoulder, gripping the thick fabric of his hoodie; then in his hair, twisting, tugging, trying to anchor yourself.

Jay's mouth was everywhere, he kissed the curve of your throat, then bit your jaw with just enough pressure to make your eyes roll back. He licked a slow, hot trail across your collarbone, then sucked a bead of sweat from your skin.

"Can feel you, baby." He whispered, one hand sliding up your spine to cup the back of your neck, keeping you close. "You're gonna cum for me, aren't you?"

"Y-Yeah," you choked out, barely able to hold on. Your legs trembled violently, muscles twitching as your body struggled to keep pace with the intensity crashing down on you. "I'm—fuck, Jay—I'm right there—"

"Good," he murmured, teeth grazing your throat. "Then cum for me. Let go. Give it to me."

His thrusts grew sharper, each one punching a breath from your lungs, your hips colliding with his in a staccato rhythm of need. The sound of it filled the car: slick, obscene, mixed with your cries and the ragged sounds of his breathing. Your vision began to blur around the edges, your body too overwhelmed to process anything but sensation.

"I-I'm gonna—!" you gasped, voice cracking as the wave surged through you.

Jay caught your jaw in his hand, forcing your eyes to meet his for a breathless second then he kissed you. His mouth swallowed the ragged sob that tore from your throat as you shattered in his arms.

At the same time, his thumb found your clit again, circling fast. The moment your climax hit, your whole body keened. You went rigid, then completely undone, spasming around his cock so hard it forced a groan from his chest.

Your body slumped forward against him, completely spent, your skin sticking to his as you trembled in his lap. But Jay didn't release you. He held you close, his breath ragged against your neck, cock still buried inside you, twitching—still hard.

His fingers slid beneath your chin, tilting your face to meet his. His gaze was hooded, wild, drenched in a hunger that hadn't dulled at all.

"Back seat," he murmured. "Now."

You nodded, dazed, barely functional, still pulsing from the orgasm he'd dragged out of you. Your legs felt like jelly as you moved, fumbling your way off his lap. His cock slipped free with a wet sound that made both of you groan. You reached for the handle, pushed the passenger seat forward with a shaky hand, and climbed into the back.

Bags cluttered the floor, some half-unzipped from earlier when you'd thrown your clothes in, but Jay didn't care. He followed you in, kicking the duffel bags out of the way without even looking. His focus was entirely on you.

You were already on your knees, body too wired to think about modesty, hands braced on the middle seat for support when you felt him behind you.

"There she is," Jay muttered under his breath, running a hand up your spine. "My filthy girl."

He grabbed your hips, positioning you exactly how he wanted—arched, ass in the air, legs spread just enough to give him the perfect view. You felt the tip of his cock brush between your folds, dragging through the mess he'd already made of you.

"You're dripping down your thighs," he said, almost with pride, dragging his thumb along your inner thigh to collect it.

You whimpered as he pressed the head of his cock back into you, slower this time but it felt even more intense now. The sensitivity made you jolt forward, your hands gripping the seat tighter as he filled you all over again.

"F-fuck," you gasped, back arching more as your walls stretched around him. "Jay—oh my God—"

"Not done with you," he groaned, thrusting in deeper, hips slamming into the curve of your ass with a sound that echoed sharply in the tight space. "Not even close."

The car rocked slightly with every movement. The leather creaked under the shift of weight. Your breath fogged up the already-blurred windows as you gasped against the glass, leaving new streaks beside your earlier prints.

Jay's rhythm turned savage, his body slamming into yours with purpose, one hand tangled in your hair, the other squeezing your hip so tight

"We're gonna ruin the seats," he growled, thrusting harder, his voice cracking slightly with the effort.

You moaned, your hips moving back to meet every thrust with desperation, you could feel him hitting that perfect spot over and over again, and every time he did, you swore your knees buckled a little more.

"Jay," you sobbed out, unable to stop yourself, "want you to cum inside me—please—I want to feel it leak out while I'm still full of you."

He froze, his hips slowed, pulling almost all the way out, leaving just the swollen head of his cock lodged inside you. He watched the way your body tried to pull him back in, your ass pushing back in tiny, desperate motions, trying to fill yourself again.

"Say that again," he rasped, voice shaking as he gripped your waist harder, thumbs digging into your soft flesh.

"I want you to cum in me," you panted, looking back over your shoulder with glassy eyes and swollen lips. "Fill me up. Claim me. Make a mess."

He slammed back in, one hard, deep stroke that punched a cry from your lungs. His grip shifted, both hands now on your ass, squeezing, spreading. He slapped you once, hard, and you yelped, your pussy clenching around him so tight he hissed.

"Ahh, fuck, baby." He moaned, pulling back to watch your ass slap against his pelvis.

Your hips started moving faster, chasing his rhythm, the slick sounds of your bodies meeting reaching a fever pitch.

"Fuck, fuck," Jay breathed, voice cracking as his hands slid up from your hips. One traced along the curve of your spine, rough palm gliding over slick, sweat-damp skin, before his fingers dug into your shoulder, pulling you back into him, forcing you to take him even deeper.

"Please," you choked, "I want all of it—don't pull out, Jay—I wanna feel it drip down my thighs."

His breathing turned erratic, his rhythm faltering as his control slipped completely.

"I'm about to creampie your fucking pussy, baby," he snarled, hips slamming into yours hard enough to rock the whole car. "Gonna fill you till you're leaking. Stuff this sweet cunt like you begged for."

"Yessss!" Your orgasm slammed into you out of nowhere, your clit untouched, no fingers, no pressure, just the sheer brutality of his cock. Your mouth dropped open in a silent scream, vision going white at the edges, your core locking down around him like a vice.

Jay's moan cracked from his chest like a growl dragged through gritted teeth. He drove in once more, deep, deep, hips pressed tight to your ass as he spilled into you. His ears are ringing at the intensity.

You felt every throb, every twitch, every pulse of his cock releasing inside you. The heat of it flooded your core, thick and warm, coating your inside.

You cried out, not from pain but from relief, your body going limp beneath the weight of the moment. Your pussy fluttered around him as you milked every last drop, and Jay wasn't done.

He kept moving. Small, grinding thrusts keeping you full, keeping himself deep, pushing his release further into you with each roll of his hips.

"God," he groaned, burying his face between your shoulder blades, teeth grazing the damp skin there. You trembled beneath him, whimpering with every movement.

Jay didn't move to pull out. He stayed buried inside, cock still twitching, thick with release, his arms wrapped around you. His lips found your shoulder, then your neck, planting slow kisses while your body shook with the last of your orgasm.

By the time your orgasm began to fade, your body felt boneless, pliant, ruined in the most perfect way. A breathless, broken laugh slipped past your lips—half-delirious, half-relieved—as you collapsed forward onto the seat, your hands lazily finding their way to Jay's shoulder. Your fingers curled weakly into the fabric of his hoodie, grounding yourself against the aftershocks still rippling through you.

Jay didn't speak at first. He just held you there, still inside you, his chest rising and falling against your back. Then he leaned in slowly, pressing soft, lingering kisses to your temple, your cheek, each one landing with a wet smack that made you giggle.

His nose nuzzled against your face, tracing the line of your jaw, his lips brushing over your damp skin. You turned your head just enough to meet him, eyes fluttering half-open, your lips found his.

A sudden jolt of pain surged through your leg and your whole body jerked.

"Fuck, cramps!" you yelped, voice breaking through the heavy quiet. Your muscles seized. "Oh my God—my thigh, it's dead—completely fucking dead—"

Jay laughed, "hold on," he murmured, placing a steadying hand on your lower back.

He pulled out slowly, and you winced again from the sensation. You both felt the thick stretch of him slipping free, followed instantly by the warm slide of his cum spilling from you. It dripped down your inner thighs in slow, lazy rivulets, and Jay's eyes locked on it.

His breath caught. "Shit..." he muttered under his breath, his tone dipped low, eyes wide with something between awe and filthy satisfaction.

You flopped onto your side, trying to stretch out your cramped leg, your body still twitching with residual sensitivity. "Ugh, Jay—help—I'm dying."

"Baby," he chuckled, leaning forward, still staring at the mess between your legs, "you can't say shit like 'cum inside me' and then get mad when I fuck your legs into paralysis."

"I didn't think physics were gonna get involved," you whined dramatically, punching his shoulder with the strength of a wet noodle.

Jay grinned, eyes still glassy and high off the intensity, and leaned over you again. "C'mon, let me help. Gotta get you out of this position before your legs give out completely." He gently lifted one of your knees, massaging the cramp away with slow, circular pressure.

"There," he whispered, eyes focused. "Is that better?"

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, head dropping back against the seat. "God, yes. Keep doing that and I might fall in love."

Jay smirked. "Might?"

You grinned, eyes fluttering half-shut as he kept massaging, then slowed. He pressed a final kiss to the inside of your knee before sitting back, reaching for a water bottle from the center console and cracking it open for you.

"The next stop's only four miles out," he said, settling into that post-fuck softness. "I can grab you a Salonpas patch or something if you're still sore."

You took the water, chugged it like you hadn't just been moaning his name ten minutes ago, then looked up at him with wide eyes. "Can I smoke before we leave again?" you asked, blinking innocently.

Jay paused, narrowed his eyes at you like he already saw the trouble brewing behind your sweet expression.

He sighed. You knew that sigh.

Without waiting for his response, you grinned and mimed zipping your lips shut, pretending to toss the imaginary key out the window. "Okay, okay," you said with a dramatic shrug. "I said nothing."

He gave you a look, but the corner of his mouth still twitched like he couldn't help but find you ridiculous and adorable all at once.

Then your eyes dropped down, your voice lowering.

"Okay," you said, leaning in just enough to whisper it, "can I at least cock warm you while you drive?"

"Excuse me?"

You gave him your most innocent look—too wide eyes, soft voice, coy little smile. "What? I said warm. Not ride. Warm. That's, like, the most passive, wholesome form of love."

Jay barked a laugh, head falling back as he covered his face for a second. "You want to sit on my dick while I drive."

"Well, yeah," you said casually, already shimmying your hips to adjust your sore muscles. "I mean, it's already warm in there. Might as well keep him company. You don't want him to feel neglected, do you?"

Jay looked at you, he was grinning, hand sliding to the back of your neck, pulling you in for another kiss. "Fine,"

Together, you climbed back into the front seat, Jay adjusted the recline of his seat, just enough to give you space, and you straddled him with a slow exhale, easing down onto him with a shiver.

You sighed, your head dropping forward against his chest as your body settled, molded around him. Jay's hands moved to your waist automatically, steadying you. With one hand, he reached down and draped a blanket, pulled from the mess of bags in the back—over your legs. The soft fleece shielded your bare skin from the AC.

The engine rumbled to life beneath you.

"I've got you," he whispered, adjusting the wheel with one hand while the other stayed on your thigh, tracing idle patterns against your skin. "Comfortable?"

"Mm-hmm," you murmured sleepily, nuzzling your face into the side of his neck. The scent of his cologne, Jo Malone wrapped around you. "Love you."

He glanced down at you, heart in his throat. His lips brushed your hairline, then pressed there in a lingering kiss.

"Love you more," he whispered back, and then shifted into gear, pulling back onto the dark road.

You let yourself sink into him completely, your eyes already starting to flutter shut. Your head slumped on his shoulder, mouth slightly open, your breath slowing.

You started snoring loud, unbothered, fully passed out in the lap of the man still very much inside you. You didn't care about the cramped space. Or the soreness creeping into your thighs. Or how uncomfortably good it still felt to be stuffed full of him.

You'd deal with the cramps when you woke up.

Jay glanced over and shook his head with a quiet chuckle, his hand smoothing down your back beneath the blanket.

He turned off the highway when the sign for the next rest stop came into view.

Maybe it was the way your hips shifted slightly in your sleep, or the way his cock throbbed just right inside your soaked heat—but something snapped again.

"Fuck it," Jay muttered,

He parked behind the convenience store, engine still running, rain starting to mist lightly on the windshield.

And he sped it up.

His grip tightened, and he began thrusting into you again from beneath—slow at first, rocking the seat, then harder, faster, building up to something messy and rough again, even with you half-asleep and whimpering against his chest.

You woke up mid-moan, dazed, grinding into him like your body already knew what to do before your brain caught up.

He kissed your shoulder between thrusts. "Just one more," he murmured. "Then I'll get your damn Salonpas."

#enhypen #enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen hard hours #jay x reader #jay smut #jay hardhours #park jongseong

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shotmrmiller · 1 year ago

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simon who can afford a better flat than the budget friendly flat he lives in but won't move. johnny doesn't understand. he wants to blame it on simon being the enigmatic, intentionally perplexing man he tends to be but he has a flat.

he doesn't have to. he's got no significant other, no kids (that he knows of, god only knows if simon's got a bairn somewhere. it makes him heated thinking about it. he's it's uncle, damn it.) why does he rent here when living in base is free?

the question answers itself when he's over one evening, empty beer bottles on the table, amber glass reflecting the warm glow of the lone lamp overhead. the television is on, volume turned down, blending with the other sounds of the night— the distant barking of dogs, the quiet hum of simon's fridge, the occasional car passing by outside.

the conversation had died down already, not like they don't spend almost every waking breath with each other at work and they'd been sitting in a comfortable silence when there was a sudden, sharp knock at simon's door.

it startles johnny, reaction instinctive as he reaches for his hip, hand curling around the grip of his holstered gun but simon seems relaxed. he pins him with a look and mutters, "s'alrigh'."

what does he mean it's alright? it's 'witchin' hour'' as his mam calls it, who could possible be at his door? he cranes his neck to look and—

it's you, standing up here with a flour-dusted apron, small hands holding a warm pastry, the steam twisting and curling off of it. you're exude homely charm, soft face glowing from the corridor's light (or maybe it's at the sight of seeing simon, who knows?) he can smell it in the air, sweet, inviting.

what johnny finds interesting enough to send a quick text to kyle is how simon is looking at you. as if you're handing him more than just a custard tart, but also a little piece of heaven, a fragment of a dream he hopes to have one day.

"'m sorry, simon. i wasn't aware you had any company. i just really needed to stress bake or i would've gone off the deep end and end up in prison."

violent little bonnie. he can see the appeal.

simon cups his hands over yours (he definitely did it as an excuse to touch you) as he takes the treat. if you make food to unwind and give it to your neighbors, johnny oughta move in next door too. he'll never turn down free food.

"don't worry about it." johnny's eyebrows shoot to his hairline at the softness in his tone, bottle halfway to his lips.

clearly more than a passing fancy.

"i'll just uhm, if you're friend wants some too—" but simon gently interrupts you before he can ask for some of that sweet comfort too.

"he's not hungry."

cruel, cruel bastard. he'll remember this day, jot it down in his calendar. when he gets a girl of his own, he'll be sure to do the same.

johnny wonders if you've got a crick in your neck from looking up at simon as you speak hushed words, meant only for him. can he get at least a nibble of that tart?

you shoot johnny a shy ㅤsmile before turning around and simon closes the door, turning back to the warming beers, golden tart in hand.

even the plate it's on is cute.

"ah can see the hearts in yer eyes, lt."

johnny can practically hear the air parting as simon's fist cuts through it, aimed at his head. he avoids it with practiced ease. "ooh, touchy. ah'll leave ye be if i get a bite o' tha'."

he doesn't gets not even a crumb because simon is selfish.

(simon moved here purposefully because he knows you live here and can't be at peace without knowing where you are at all times. there's a tag inside your favorite pair of shoes you left out in the hall once to dry after a hard downpour. the bakery you work at is down the street, if he looks out the south facing window, he can see you going in and leaving work. he likes to let himself in your home and smell your cushions. took one of your shirts too but at least made sure it wasn't one of your faves. he has to wash it every other day)

#it's cute but it's not #sorry! he's crazy!#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley x you

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sobbingscripter · 4 months ago

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Tags: [mlw][mdni][childhood friends][semi-public][cowgirl][oral (f! receiving][female orgasm][reunited][he's got anxiety][romantic][raw][fingering][implied facial][suggested creampie, if that's even a tag]

Jason's not the type of man to get giddy.

Not by a longshot.

In fact, he's not even the type of man to look in the direction of a woman, just because he knows that he'd need to find a girl who's big backed enough to carry his emotional baggage and he's not ready to burden someone with that.

Clearing away his thoughts, Jason takes a step into the one part of Gotham he wouldn't deem as a total shitshow.

The public library.

Walls are strewn with red paper hearts on string, tablecloths are changed to heart prints and there's a gigantic, glittery Cupid cutout right above the librarian's desk. And with each breeze, it dangles and Jason can't hide the amusement in his eyes when the flying baby spins, arrow in his direction. And he scoffs under his breath.

Before moving towards the front desk and he feels the way his breath stutters in his chest at the sight of you.

"Where's Beatrice? Old, short lady, curlers, mole with the hair?" He's damn near frantic. He's not prepared for this.

Pretty hair framing your face, a bright red bow in your hair and sparkling eyes that stare up at him, and your pretty, pouty lips curl at the corners.

"Oh, she's out for a few months. She got her hip surgery, so I'm her temporary replacement." You give him the sweetest smile, staring at him from beneath long, luxurious lashes that could almost rival Bruce's and Jason swallows, nodding his head.

"I—uh— I'm...— excuse me."

Jason leaves through the same door he came in, muscular hands braced on his hips and he lets out laboured breaths. If someone were to accuse him of being a blushing mess, he wouldn't even be able to deny it, instead, only being able to empty his Glock.

Because no one accuses the Red Hood of feeling feelings.

Carding muscular fingers through his hair, Jason tries to hype himself up, trying to give a pep talk that doesn't involve internal screaming and a potential panic attack.

He doesn't understand why HIS Selina Kyle needs to be working at the library he frequents. It seems like a sick joke.

Especially because you probably don't even remember him. Because not only was he like, 10, but he was also, masked whenever you two came across each other.

Quite literally, his first everything.

First solo save.

First crush.

First Valentine.

First kiss.

First fantasy.

First boner.

Jason steps back into the library, his boots heavy on the carpeted floorboards and he steps to the front desk, his chest puffed and a purpose in his voice.

"I'm Jason." He introduces. "I read to the kids on Wednesdays and Fridays."

He watches you glance towards the clipboard in front of you, glossy lips pursed before you nod your head, giving him that exact smile that used to be painted on the forefront of his brain for majority of his adolescence.

"Yeah, Beatrice told me about you." Your head tilts, and you give him that sweet, lovely leer you've always had.

"You're 'tall fella'." And you introduce yourself, before handing him the pen to sign in. A pretty fountain pen, patterned with hearts and he signs the notepad, adding the exact time as well. 12:13pm.

Jason passes into the library, immediately met with the excited squeals of kids no higher than his hip, and he glances at the multiple tables, colourful chairs occupied by excitement incarnate.

"Okay, okay." Jason hums, before sitting on his seat. A bright red wingback, although, the back of it is covered in snowy lace, undoubtedly for the occasion and he places his hands on his knees.

"What books are on today's list?"

˚˖𓍢ִִ໋❤️་༘🎀˚˖𓍢ִ🌹˚.

Jason's halfway through his 9th 'happily ever after' before he glances towards the doorway, your form leaning against the doorframe as you listen intently. Although your attention isn't as much on him, as it is on the children scattered in front of him, wide-eyed stares as though they've never heard the fairy tales before.

The softest and most gentle smile remains planted on your lips, cheeks rosy and brows relaxed, and your arms are crossed over your chest. Before you glance towards him.

Overing him an even sweeter smile.

And Jason stumbles over his words, before his lips purse, and he feels the way his ears burn with embarassment.

"Oooooh, he's shy." A tiny voice calls out and is immediately followed by a flurry of 'ooh's.

And they're right. He is shy.

But he also cannot empty his Glock.

And Jason glances towards you, or at least attempts to, because right above your head, there's another fucking Cupid pointing an arrow at him. And his fist clenches in annoyance at the convenience of the smirking infant, ruddy cheeks and tiny wings that, speaking aerodynamically, should definitely not be able to lift that chubby body higher than a foot or two.

Jason lets out a deep, controlled breath before lowering his gaze to meet yours, pretty doe eyes stare at him with the intensity of a thousand suns and his compression shirt seems a bit too stuffy right now. But he doesn't tear his gaze away.

At least not immediately, because once your pretty lashes flutter when you blink, he looks away. To the complete opposite direction of you.

"You've been reading for a while, so I wanted to ask if you want a juice box?" You offer him sweetly and God, he feels like a pervert because he wants your juice box.

Your sweet, tantalizing and snug juice box.

"Please." He damn near breathes out the word, and you nod your head, carrying in a tray with multiple juice boxes, as well as snacks. Sliced fruit in labelled bowls, incase something isn't immediately identifiable, chips, raisins, cookies.

And Jason looks at the juice box you place in his hand.

Pineapple.

He doesn't know if he's being paranoid, but it's a bit on the nose, but he slides the straw into the hole, unable to hide the snicker that tumbles from his lips at the sight.

And you let out a snort. "Perv."

God.

You even laugh the same.

˚˖𓍢ִִ໋❤️་༘🎀˚˖𓍢ִ🌹˚.

When the library empties out, you're left all alone with Jason, golden light streams into the library, although, it's dimmed by the frosted glass windows, and Jason clears his throat.

"Shouldn't you be heading home?" He questions you softly, absentmindedly picking up books that have been scattered across the tables and he sets them back into their places on the shelves. The actions so practiced and familiar, that it leads you to believe he's reading to these kids for far longer than you originally thought.

"I still need to update the system as to which books were taken, so, that'll take a bit." You respond with a sweet hum, clearing out the bowls and empty juice boxes from the tables and wiping them down.

You're methodical.

He likes that.

You've always been methodical. When it came to putting bandaids on his scuffed and knobby knees, when it came to speedily mending his cape before Bruce could find out.

Although looking back on it, Bruce could probably tell.

The lime green thread wasn't too difficult to spot against the shade of his cape, but he just never mentioned it.

"You don't have Valentine's Day plans?" You question him this time, glancing at Jason over your shoulder as you begin to take down the bulk of the worst of the decorations. Mainly the Cupid's. And the origami flowers that dangle from the corners of the room and he shakes his head.

"Not a big fan of Valentine's Day."

"You've never had a good Valentine's Day?" You hum softly, pausing your motions to stare at Jason while he continues to reorganize the shelves, and you get the honour of watching the muscles of his back flex and move with every motion.

"I had like, one." He hums softly. "When I was younger."

"You wanna have another one?"

˚˖𓍢ִִ໋❤️་༘🎀˚˖𓍢ִ🌹˚.

There's something so stupidly romantic about the way the two of you are seated next to each other, a packet of chocolate chip cookies between and conversation flowing like water from a river.

And Jason doesn't know if it's the way the flame of the scented candle reflects in your iris, or if it's the way you thumb away the crumbs from the corner of his mouth or if it's even the way you compliment the colour of his eyes.

But he leans in, impulsive and stupid, but he leans in, his lips ghosting over yours in a sweet peck.

And you stare up at him, eyes wide and brows raised in surprise before a smile spreads across your face. Wide and dimpled, before you place a manicured hand on the side of his face, leaning in and you whisper so softly, just before your lips meet his.

"If it isn't the Boy Wonder."

Jason wastes no time in pulling you into his lap, your thighs pressed against his waist as your hands cradle his face so sweetly, thumbs brushing across his cheekbones as his hands find your waist. Warm, rough palms pressed against the skin of your waist and he pulls you closer.

He doesn't need to say he missed you. He doesn't need to say that you were the only person he wanted to see after the Lazarus pit.

Jason pulls away, pressing soft, sweet kisses along the curve of your jaw, lingering on your erratic pulse and your nails scratch at his scalp, carding through thick, wavy locks. Your head tips back, trying to give him the maximum amount of access to the sensitive flesh as your hips roll needily.

And your lips part to let out a shaky breath, lashes flutter and you whine softly, glossy lips letting out sweet moans that fill his ears, just like that sweet, lingering perfume on your skin fills his nose.

It's all too much.

Too much and not enough.

The way you grind against the bulge in his pants does nothing to sate that burning feeling in the pit of his belly, but the way your thighs press against his waist, as if you're trying to pull him closer.

That.

That does it for him.

It feels like a fucking dream when you hop up on the table, thighs parted and he watches the way your slick forces your pretty panties clinging to your cunt. Outlining the pretty folds and puffy lips, and he groans under his breath, his head moving to rest against the plush flesh of your thigh.

"You're so perfect." He breathes out. "Can I?"

Jason asks you softly, even as his fingers hook around the soaked gusset of your panties, pulling it to the side and clingy gossamers of your slick snap against his fingertips. And he whines when you lift your skirt better, thighs moving to rest on his broad shoulders and his face is nestled between your thighs.

Jason's tongue drags through your slippery folds, wet muscle gathering the stickiness of your slick before he groans at the taste, lunging the glob at the hood of your clit, before he circles the sensitive nub with mastered precision.

He feels the way your pillowy thighs press against his blazing ears, sweet sounds slipping past your lips as your nails scratch at his scalp, fingers massaging his head as your hips lift to meet the curls and flicks of his tongue.

Meaty hands paw at your thighs, and Jason pulls away occasionally, just to press sloppy, wet kisses against your skin, glancing up at you through his lashes as you push his hair out of your face. Right at that snowy tuft, and all the way to the nape of his neck, and Jason could fucking paint the inside of his pants when your nails dig into the flesh of his neck, pulling his face back to your cunt.

"You taste so fucking good..."

One of your hands support your weight on the surface of the table, your head tipped back and hickeys littered across the expanse of your neck and your eyes are half-lidded, moans falling from your lips with the kind of ease that only comes with unbridled and unfiltered lust.

But Jason knows it's not lust.

And if he didn't know it before, he definitely knows it when you pull him away from your cunt, his chin and lips glistening with slick and you lean down, pressing a sweet yet sloppy kiss against his lips.

Before you usher him back below your skirt.

And he sucks at your needy clit, feeling the way your hips buck and twitch, slick coating his lips, his tongue as well as his chin. And thick fingers dig into the fat of your thighs as he laps at whatever trickles from your sloppy hole.

And Jason brings up a hand, pushing your thigh further from his ear, before sliding two fingers into your drooling cunt, feeling the way you spasm around his digits, your belly caving inward and you whine.

"You're so tight..." Jason breathes out, tongue flicking against your overstimulated clit, just as his fingers curl against that spongy spot that makes your eyes flutter shut. "And you're so warm..."

You whine, your body breaking out in goosebumps and you can barely give a warning before you're coming on Jason's fingers, feeling the way he keeps sucking on your clit, coaxing a damn near screaming orgasm from you and your thighs wrap around his head.

And only when you let him up, does he let out panting breaths, before slumping back in his seat, carding his fingers through his hair. And he looks up to you with hazy green eyes.

And you barely wait before you're fiddling with his belt buckle, trying to unzip his charcoal coloured cargo pants, and he lets out a hoarse laugh, before helping you undo the loop and he shifts, just enough to pull his cock out.

And it's so pretty.

Long, thick, beads of precum trickling down that pretty upward curve and pooling just above his cock, flushed red tip weeping and twitching.

And you swallow.

Wrapping a hand around the base of him, and you give Jason a few slow, tentative pumps, watching the way deep breaths escape his lips.

"Ride me." Jason sighs, a soft whimper leaving him. "Please ride me."

Jason whines when your hips meet his, his cock nestled so firmly in your gooey walls, your cunt pulsing around his cock, your arms wrapping around his neck and your face tucked in the crook of his shoulder.

And his hands bracket your hips, fingers kneading the fatty globes of your ass, as his hips tilt upwards, rotund tip pressing against your cervix so sweetly. And he groans, pressing the sweetest kiss against your temple.

And he whines when your hips roll against his.

The air is thick with tension, the scent of cinnamon from that candle that's still casts a pretty gold glow and the smell of his cologne.

Earthy, smoky and so, so intoxicating that it makes your eyes roll back in your head, your nails digging into the back of his neck.

Your hips roll, the plumpness of your ass meeting his thighs in rhythmic movements and Jason's pretty sure the Lazarus pit was bullshit and he's actually dead right now.

Because you're so fucking heavenly.

The sluttiest squelchy sounds ring out from your pretty cunt, and you keep slobbering around his cock, as he bullies your insides so eagerly. Each of his hips move to meet your sloppy movements and Jason's hands massage at your hips.

He savours the way you feel in his hands.

The last time he had you on his lap was exactly 12 days before he died. You had placed the sweetest kiss on his lips, giving him the prettiest little doe eyed gaze.

And you're doing the exact same fucking thing right now.

Bleary eyes staring up at Jason, your lips parting to let out the prettiest, sluttiest little sounds while he fucks up into you. Each ridge and each vein drags against your sloppy walls, and watching the way your brows knit into the cutest little frown.

You look so pretty.

"So fucking pretty..." Jason whines, his face buried in your neck as he moves your hips, harder, faster, meaner but so, so sweetly.

"Shit, can I come inside?" He begs softly. "Please, please, please."

He begs so prettily, his blunt nails leaving indentations in the fat of your ass, his face hidden and you can only murmur a weak 'uh-huh' as you pummels into you so...

Meanly.

Hips snapping vigorously while he keeps cooing, kissing your neck and wrapping his arms around your waist so tightly, he might break one of your ribs. His muscles bulge underneath his already tight shirt, his brows bunch and his hips still.

Jason edges himself just a bit, before whispering.

"No..."

He needs to fulfill his fantasy. He owes it to himself.

"I wanna come on your face."

Taglist:

@lucky-beheaded 🌻

@jasontoddswhitestreak 🌸

@anesthesia-4rizzle 🎀

@allycat4458 🪻

@feral010 ✨

@blckbarbiedoll 🌷

@custardpuddingprincess ⭐

@couldeatthatgirlforlunch 🦄

@theamazkngskye 🍄

@titchx0 🦆

#sobbingscripter #dc comics #valentines day specials #valentines day #jason todd dc comics #jason todd x reader smut #dc jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #jason todd #dc comics x reader smut #dc comics x you #dc comics x reader #dc x you #dc x reader

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kthologue · 2 years ago

Note

Dying thinking about gojo literally pinning and hardcore simping for reader, literally showering reader in praise, flattery and gifts because he no longer gives a damn about hiding his feelings, almost proposing to reader whenever he can and reader's just... completely clueless about it💀 and she thinks it's just gojo being friendly. Poor man would be absolutely devastated when he goes one day "[name] i'm in love with you" and she just goes "me too, i love all my friends!" 💀

she loves me, she loves me not! — gojo satoru x fem!reader

contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo (what’s new), highschool!gojo, he’s pathetic but in love your honor, oblivious!reader, ooc gojo i got carried away soz

notes. anon, when i first read your ask i literally started giggling and kicking my feet. that. is. so. gojo coded.

“please reject gojo and put him out of his misery,” utahime implored, taking hold of both of your hands. you think she’s asking, no, begging you to. beside her, shoko nods vigorously.

“but why?” you furrow your eyebrows, perplexed by their sudden request. “i can’t reject someone who doesn’t like me.”

shoko giggles at your comment. her laughter only wanes when she notices the dead serious look on your face. “... you seriously have no idea what we’re talking about?”

“not really,” you shrug, criss-crossing your legs to find some comfort on the hard wooden floor in shoko’s small dorm. it was late, past midnight, and the three of you had a shared mission tomorrow, but for some reason your two friends managed to rope you into their drinking circle.

utahime and shoko exchanged a significant glance, their unspoken communication raising your curiosity. utahime takes a long sip of her beer.

“hopeless. they’re both hopeless,” your short haired brunette friend lamented, pinching her nose bridge. it leaves a faint pink mark.

intrigued, you lean in closer towards the two, “care to elaborate?”

“you’ve never once questioned satoru’s borderline inappropriate behavior?” shoko asks you earnestly. you ponder for a moment, trying to recall any moments in the two years you’ve known the snow-haired boy.

“satoru is satoru…” you mumble, shaking your head in denial.

utahime’s eyes bug comically. she slams her can of beer harshly on the ground. you wince at the loud noise of the metallic can hitting the floor.

“you’re kidding. even i can see through that jerk!” utahime’s black pigtails sway wildly.

“[name], how about what happened in shinjuku last week on our day off?” shoko quietly reminds you of last weekend when the two of you along with satoru and suguru decided to empty your pockets in one of tokyo’s largest entertainment wards.

utahime’s head whips back and forth from her best friend to you, “eh? what happened?!”

from behind the dressing room curtain, you voiced your concerns, “shoko, i don't think we can afford designer clothes on our student budget.” the cream-colored silk dress you wore clung to your body, its price tag undoubtedly surpassing a year's worth of your student earnings.

“don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” shoko’s voice carried a knowing smile. “just come out and show me the dress!” you think satoru’s carefree attitude is rubbing off on her.

with a nervous sigh, you emerged from the dressing room. the dress fit like a glove, accentuating your body in just the right places.

bright flashes from shoko's phone startled you, and she chuckled deviously while rapidly typing. she tossed her phone onto a luxurious cushion, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of exposure.

“you look so sexy. even better than the model.” she gives you two thumbs up, eyes roaming your figure. you feel flushed at her praise.

“as flattered as i am, there’s no way i can afford this,” you look down at the dress, lips downturned. “i’d be in debt for life.”

“no need to worry,” shoko winked, leaving you confused. given that her income was similar to yours, it didn't make sense for her to be able to even dream of shopping designer.

a soft thud interrupted your conversation. you turn around to see a blue lollipop rolling on the expensive carpeting of the store.

“suguru, are my eyes deceiving me or is that an angel?” satoru's mouth is wide open as he shamelessly checks you out. he takes one of his hands and places it over his heart, gripping the fabric of his white shirt. the windbreaker he is wearing rustles at his dramatic movement.

“i think… i’m experiencing a heart attack! shoko help!” he kneels in the middle of the store dramatically. shoko shares an unamused look with suguru. the pair nod before simultaneously kicking satoru.

during all of the commotion, you stand awkwardly in the million yen dress.

“satoru, are you okay?” you watch him take the two blows from your friends, concern evident in your voice. he grunts softly before gently taking ahold of your hand.

“no,” he croaks with a playful glint in his eye. “i’m wounded and there’s only one way to fix it.”

you look at him, your gaze heavy with concern.

“i’m afraid you’ll have to kiss me for the pain to go away.” he added, blinking at you expectantly with his blue eyes.

you lightly shove him away from you. “you’re an idiot.” satoru laughs loudly.

“that’s what love does to a man.”

“yeah, yeah. i’m going to change out of this dress, don’t get into any more trouble while i’m gone.”

satoru’s grip on your hand strengthens, halting your actions.

“how much?”

“excuse me?”

“the dress. how much for it?” he stands up to his full height, reminding you of the obvious height difference between the two of you.

you're at loss for words. gojo was crazy, but definitely not crazy enough to spend a million yen on a silly dress.

shoko happily chimes into the conversation. “one million yen. it’ll be two million yen with the rest of my purchases though!”

suguru’s calm demeanor is replaced with shock. the black haired male’s jaw drops, “two million�� satoru, you’re seriously not thinking about–”

“hah? who said i’m paying for your stuff?” gojo makes an ugly face at shoko.

she raises her hands innocently, “it’s not my fault the dresses come in a set. if you want to see your beloved [name] in that dress you’ll have to pay for mine as well.”

you watch shoko and satoru engage into a silent argument. the tension in the fitting room section is so thick, you think it’ll take a special grade weapon to slice through it.

trying to alleviate the mood you tell gojo, “satoru, you really don’t have to–”

“i’m buying you that dress.”

“o-okay.”

half an hour later, satoru happily strolls out of the store with an arm around your shoulder like he’d just won the lottery.

perhaps gojo is just naturally flirty, you had tried to reason to shoko and utahime.

it’s been a week since the eye-opening conversation with the two and you’ve found yourself on cleaning duty with said snow-haired boy. it was a miracle that satoru even showed up. he had a tendency to skip his turns, often resulting in a long lecture from yaga.

as the two of you worked silently in the empty classroom, you couldn't help but admire the setting sun. its golden rays painted the sky with hues of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over everything. unknowingly, while you gazed at the sky, gojo's gaze was firmly fixed on you.

breaking the silence, he asked, "have you ever thought about getting married?"

his question caught you off guard, causing you to momentarily pause from wiping the windows.

“not really,” you replied, biting your lip gently. “unless my family decides to arrange a marriage. you know how unforgiving the world of jujutsu sorcery is.”

gojo's grip on the broom tightened, his eyes locking onto yours with a newfound intensity.

"we should get married y'know," he blurted out.

the piece of cloth you were using slipped from your hand in shock. surely, he couldn't mean what he was saying. after all, the two of you were only second years.

“what?”

“i’m saying i think i’m in love with you.”

“oh.”

silence engulfs the room once more before a soft giggle escapes your lips.

satoru can only watch, entranced.

“that’s good to hear! i love you too– and suguru and shoko! perhaps the four of us should all just get married.” you chuckle into your hand.

satoru can't help but stare at your hand in envy. perhaps if he were the palm of your hand, he’d be able to feel the touch of your lips.

but he couldn’t. he was cursed as a man with an overpowered innate technique, and despite it all he couldn’t even gain the one thing he desired. gojo satoru watched you, eyes filled with a mixture of longing and defeat.

his devastation does not go unnoticed by you.

you were under the impression that he was grumpy because yaga had forced him into cleaning with you.

"cheer up, satoru! if we finish early enough," you continue, your tone highspirited, "we can go to the new crepe shop that opened last week. my treat!" you winked, and that immediately caught his attention.

“like a date?” his eyes sparkled with hope.

you shrug, a smile on your face. “i suppose if you look at it from a certain perspective…”

“great, it’s a date!”

good things come to those who wait, satoru thinks, humming happily as he starts to sweep the room at an inhumane pace.

maybe in ten years time the two of you will be happily married with eight kids, he smiles to himself.

#kt.writes.·:*¨༺#gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #this is me coping bc of the leaks

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sleep-0-deprived · 4 months ago

Text

Sirens touch~! (Kyle Garrick x male siren reader) 𓊝

WC:.2.1K

Tags: pwlp, anal sex, sex on a boat, monster x human, pheromones used as drugs, fish anatomy mentioned, bottom male reader, seduction themes, siren songs, handjobs, neck biting, blood mentioned 𓇼

A/N: this one is for @creepy141dollie hope Y’ like it, forgive if M’ descriptions of sirens are inaccurate, this was jus my thought process <33

Taglist: @kimisbunny @asher-is-hotxp @silvern1006 @unstab1eperson2 @yyuinaa @dewday1 @blond3ang3l @creepy141dollie @m4r13ll @ihavezeropancreas @sooobiinn @just-ignore-them @fuckingmxonlight @nightwinglover101 @chasingknives @littlelilithsposts

𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟𓆝𓆟𓆝

The air was fogged over and cold- rigidly so, you could almost taste the salt in the air when you breathed in the mist. Kyle wasn’t happy about this in the slightest, the moment price caught wind of makarov supposedly hiding somewhere across the sea, he had the whole task force on a ship on the ocean waters, that included Gaz too. Gaz walked around on the deck, he’d peek his head over the rails and stare into the nearly black abyss of water— god he could only imagine how cold that water must’ve been.

His eyes slowly widen when he sees something beneath the sheets of liquid, it was probably just a dumb fish swimming around. Garrick wasn’t made for the waters nor did he like them, sea sick was the only thing he ever got from it— and was that a person laying on that rock?…oh god the sea must be getting to him.

“I don’t see how sailors manage”

Gaz diverts his gaze to the passing soap, walking by and across the ship watching the other end- like what he was supposed to be doing but something felt off he couldn’t explain it, it all felt weird like bugs churning around in his stomach. He’d just cut it down to the waves giving him motion sickness.

“Are you gonna make it there gaz?”

He nearly jumps when ghost sneaks up on him standing behind him with his mask on letting his gaze pierce through the other male.

“You shouldn’t be so damn quiet- you’re gonna give someone a heart attack these days”

“Relax, I was just gonna ask if ye wanted to swap tasks- ye go to the lower deck N’ keep an eye out”

The man’s British accent creeping through his words only making Gaz sigh and nod, making his way down to the empty deck, his body felt a reaction the closer he got to the waters almost like something compelling him forwards. When the rock he had seen earlier came into view he could’ve sworn he saw a man with H/C hair laying there with a deep blue webbed ear. Before he knew it he felt his chest ache at that sight- why did he feel so much need over a man that probably was a figment of his lonesome imagination.

He leans against the rails, blinking once and frowning when he sees nothing on the rock, he almost feels sadness as the disappearance but before he can mourns it a hand is placed up on the ship from the loading area a few feet from him.

“Who’s there?!”

His voice rings empty in the fog, you slip your way up onto the deck while laying sprawled with a little grin. Tilting your head over almost like a curious cat— you weren’t used to not having your tail but you’d make having legs work. Gaz was practically lovestruck standing in his military gear and yet he felt just as defenseless as a common man before a gun.

“Aren’t you just a mean one?”

Your voice was angelic and he knew that you knew that, the way you slithered up on the deck like some serpent ready for its mean had him in a state of pure lust looking at you— Gaz was a weak man and the years of solitude without touch only made him weaker. Your prime prey, you liked a sweet man who was good at heart but had desperation— you could feed off the lust in his eyes alone.

Gaz started approaching you almost in a trance but you haven’t even used your song on him yet, this was pure free will.

“What the hell are you— a damn talking fish?”

“I’m not a damn fish— I’ll have you know I’m a siren”

You hiss your words at him growing irritated with it all, reaching your hand out to grasp hold of the man and pull him down with you having him beneath you on the deck. your body nude and cold from the see, your cock pressed flat down on your thighs while you click your tongue slowly tracing your cold fingers over his skin, humming your own siren song.

“Fuck, what the hell are you doing”

“Don’t pretend you don’t want me, everyone wants me.”

Your hands grip his shoulders speaking statements not questions, your cock was stiffening up when his bulge pressed to your plush cheeks almost giving it a friendly greeting making you push back down against his clothed member, Gaz’s hands roam down grabbing your hips instinctively gripping at the flesh with vigor while he stares up at you in a glossy eyed trance watching how your hands slid off his shoulder down his vest and to his cargo pants, pulling them down with a thud when you undo his tack belt letting it fall on the deck.

Your nails were sharp and pointed leaving chills on his thighs when your nails graze over the tip of his cock having it all wet and coated in pre cum when you finally get it out of his boxers. Your eyes narrow slightly glowing under the dim fog of the late noon sky, the ship rocking back and forth against the waves having Gaz feeling completely under your spell when you hum against his ear and press your lips to the side of his neck.

“God you’re…”

He wanted to say so many things in that moment but his lips quivered and stopped, all men acted that way— you couldn’t count the number of sailors who uttered those exact words to you. Gaz felt different you didn’t want to lure him into a seductive demise, you actually wanted him all for yourself.

“I already knoww~”

you hush him silently with your lips pressed to his Adam’s apple rubbing your sharp teeth to the flesh feeling tempted to just take a bite out of him. Your hand plays with his cock stroking the base and rubbing your thumb flush against the under side of his tip, right where you knew it was most sensitive.

“O-h fuck you’re good at this”

Kyle’s moan comes out strangled like a half laugh when he takes a gulp for the first time in his military years feeling nervous by something that looks so frail, your skin practically glowed sticky from the salt in the sea having your damp body in his lap feeing your bare ass on his thighs making his half lidded eyes just stare at it, he only looks away when he feels the sharp pain in his neck— you just bit him?

“Mhm, you just taste good enough to eat”

“Oh fuuck”

His groan just make you smile having his blood over your teeth like a fresh candy coating making your slit pupils dilate, licking up the blood off his neck leaving him with the mark of a siren when you aim his cock between your wet cheeks, grinning at his expression when his eyes clamp shut from the cold feel of your skin pressing to his manhood. You rock your hips back and forth letting go of his cock and reaching up to his jaw and gripping it tight while you lay hunched over him pressing your bitter and blue lips to his mouth kissing him- making him taste his blood off your tongue while he lays on his back on the deck.

“You want this so bad don’t you?”

“…yes…”

He mumbles mindlessly under you just staring you blankly in the eyes, his lips sloppily responding to yours with your cock standing barely stiff leaning a small pearl of pre cum with your blue webbed ears looking almost like a fin when they flick back and forth in satisfaction. His cock head rubbing between your cheeks and all up and down your crack rubbing against your twitchy ring of muscles.

“Tell me you want inside me- tell me now”

“…I want you, I wanna be inside you so bad”

Your mouth nibbles at his neck some more littering it in red marks having blood smears on his skin while his hips buck up under you making you let go of his jaw when he hisses from how your nails dug into his skin. Gaz presses into you slowly pushing his way inside of your vice, being a siren producing pheromones and natural lubricant around your rim, your holes weee designed to take— you were a being of lust- a Adonis of sex in every way but the name.

“Fuckin, please-“

If it wasn’t for how desperate Gaz was in this moment he may have passed out of humiliation, he hated the way his voice cracked when he begged for you sitting desperate with his cock half inside you prodding its way into the bunny tavern trying to spread and spear you open on his dick, you sit in his lap having your mouth latched on his feeling his moans muffled by your tongue when you bite on his bottom lip leaving little drops of blood mixing into the shared spit.

“Think you may be the biggest man I’ve taken in a very long time sailor”

You lift your hips up and slowly lower them back down on him while you let your hand find its way to his shoulders digging your nails through his gear and clawing a hole in the back of his shirt leaving marks on his rich skin. Your rim milks out the pre cum from his mushroomed head having his hands trembling on your hips while he pushes his spit down your throat.

“I’m not a damn sailor— I’m a captain”

His words come out strangled beneath you when he pulls his lips, tearing them away only to gasp for air. Your nails dig harder letting out soft moans when his cock rubs your prostate just right making you feel warm shrills up your spine having you feeling in a state of euphoria when you ride the man.

Your eyes creep back and you grow slicker around his cock taking it with ease, Gaz lets out heaved gasps beneath you. Not having fucked anything in a few solid years due to his job, his orgasm is on edge but he does his best to hold back not wanting to come too quick but boy if your insides weren’t practically begging it out of him right now.

“Stop or I’ll—“

Before he can even finish his sentence your hand creeps up off his back and over his mouth hushing his groans when you feel his cock start pulsing inside you reaching his high and flooding your insides with his semen leaving a warm feeling inside your ice cold body.

“Now you’re gonna be good and help me get off right?”

“Y-yes ofcourse”

He nods his head when you hum your song to him not even giving him time to come down from his orgasm when you remove your hand off his mouth and reach to the hand off your hips when you guid it down to your hardened cock, letting out a hiss when he touches the base. Gaz slowly starts stroking your cock and giving it a firm touches under your tip.

He starts stroking your cock a little faster gripping the base with your cock leaking a mess in his palm having you instinctively pushing your hips back down on his cock with the semen inside

“I’m getting close”

Gaz starts stroking your cock faster making you arch your back getting closer to edge with his hand snaking off your hips to your ass giving it a squeeze in time with his strokes. Pre cum starts oozing drink you all down your shaft making a mess when your voice cracks and your orgasm rushes over you, you grip his shoulders tight with your

“Oh fuck—“

“What is it fishy? You’re actin like this is your first orgasm”

You sneer down at him frowning when he says that, ropes of thin liquid shoots from your tip leaving stains on his gear. Your chest raises and falls rapidly practically glowing with your eyes rolling forwards to look down at him under you, sitting on top of him on the ship, you slowly raise up off of Gaz, semen starts oozing out of you and onto the ships deck, your rim twitches all puffy.

Before Garrick could even say anything to you, you were gone. The water flashed and it was like you were an imagination? Your figure lurked under the water then disappeared into the fog, sirens were never known to stick to one prey forever.

“Gaz? Mate what’re you doin?!”

There stood a flabbergasted soap, his mouth agape standing next to price with their eyes focused on a ruin captain kyle Garrick ‘Gaz’ laying covered in come with his pants around his ankles laying on his back, his cock limp and his eyes lidded clearly worn out.

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retiredteabag · 1 month ago

Text

That’s all it takes?

Synopsis: you’ve worked alongside Gojo Satoru for years; he’s painfully arrogant, critical about everything, and infuriatingly competent at his job. Worst of all, he’s just as striking as everyone thinks. For once, someone looks your way, why is it he cares so much?

tags: lowkey enemies/rivals to lovers, reader has a thing for being praised, journalist au, unedited (sorry :P)

pt. 1?

my masterlist

You'd thought the intern was trying to get a good word out of you at first. It wasn't uncommon for aspiring journalists to do whatever they could to get their foot in the door of such a competitive industry. The fact that he had been accepted onto the office floor seemingly was not enough for him. Hey, you could appreciate a handworker.

The clicking of the keyboard directly before you could only be overshadowed by the usual smacking of gum from the editor who was absent today. Her vacant desk oddly quiet. You flipped through your notebook and added even more sticky notes to your monitor, reminders of all the tasks to complete this week.

You were just about as type A as a person could be, everything was done on time, and done well. You had made something of a name for yourself and the validation kept you going. You devoured praise like it was the only thing sustaining you. That was the type of attitude that landed you positions in the greatest opinion piece publisher in Japan.

You weren't the only one who was overly competitive; however, no, someone else had become well-known even beyond his article acclaim.

The sweet little interns watched that man now like hawks. The moment his boisterous presence entered the open floor of the office cubicles, eyes followed him with an anxious reverence reserved only for the brain behind the words so many bore witness to.

Satoru Gojo was a well-known creature, even outside of journalism, the press, and the news.

Today, of course, he was in one of those moods. He sauntered into the room with a casual arrogance of someone who knew full well that the earth continued to rotate because he demanded it to be so.

The meeting he had just left was running late, his afternoon had been disrupted and the chaos he had yet to dispel was surely about to be unleashed on some unsuspecting intern.

"I've worked here far too long for superiors to still be unable to summarize a damn meetinggg~" Gojo hummed around a mouthful of croissant he had stolen from the client table. The editor that typically sat beside you would have flinched at Gojo's current gesticulation mid-rant.

You missed the peace she brought you when Gojo came around. Crumbs fell as the man licked his fingers. "Wasting my time like that, someone's gotta let them go."

You spun in your chair, looking back to see if Yaga, the company's publishing editor-in-chief, the very man Satoru Gojo was badmouthing over a sip of smoothie, was hearing his insults.

You didn't even blink when the very 'superior' exited from the conference room, waving Gojo off. The interns seemed even more worried. "The office doesn't revolve around your snacking schedule, Gojo. If you want perfect synchronicity, you might as well quit."

The apprentices looked between each other and you smiled them off, silently telling them to get back to researching the projects they were supposed to be putting together.

"You would like that, wouldn't you?" Satoru squinted, judging your very existence with his gaze.

He sighed theatrically, lounging himself across an open swivel chair of the empty editors cubical as if sitting through an assembly was the greatest waste of his precious- "They should know how important my time is-"

You roll your eyes, cutting him off, "Oh yes, so terribly important that you're spending it eating and bitching to me."

If you were being wholly honest, the shareholders in that meeting should be grateful. You'd never say it aloud, but Satoru Gojo wasn't just a writer. He was a cultural phenomenon. In his early twenties, he had already been revered for his reporting and interviewing skills, his name had graced more publications post-grad than you had even after building your portfolio.

His rate per word was outrageous as well as his schedule: a true nightmare. The Tokyo Times was beyond lucky to have been able to keep him on the team for as long as they had.

He sighed, rolling his eyes, the drama queen. He reached across you, stealing one of your pens and spinning it around amidst his fingers. "'The only reason I haven't jumped ship is because it brings me." He glided out of the chair and leaned against your cubicle, sliding the pen along the decor you had there, observing it, "so much pleasure", you wince at his seductive tone, "to bring you…annoyance." You smack his hand before he can poke the fat of your cheek with the writing utensil.

Satoru grins, spinning away with your pen, scraping up a donut before making the way back to his office. His very own, if you were curious.

One of the trainees from earlier was watching this interaction. He had a look of shock on his face as if he couldn't imagine someone smacking The Satoru Gojo.

You'd like to imagine he just couldn't fathom such a well-revered writer being so immature, but alas, that was less likely.

If it was possible for someone to be more critical than yourself when it came to work, it was Satoru. He had this sadistic urge in him that made it impossible to not call out the mistakes of others. It stung. That was the truth, but you would rather he tell you his thoughts then lie to your face and laugh behind your back.

Working with him was more of a challenge than a motivation most days. The salary was a great motivation, though. Yaga and his team paid you well. More than that though, was the rage to outlive that white haired tantrum of a man.

You could see it in the way he smirked at you, in the way his eyes found yours when you would slip up, the way he never seemed to take you seriously. This might just be the worst aspect of your personality; you just couldn't help but want to impress people, even if they didn't respect you.

"He seems like fun to work alongside." One of the interns had left the side of his fellow novices. Making small talk, telling a joke.

You shrug at the young man, "Most can't tolerate him for longer than a fiscal quarter. I hope you have what it takes."

He looked down at his shoes suddenly, "Me too."

He was tall, or taller than you at least, sweet, and earnest. He dressed up for every day at the office, he was never late, and he greeted every employee by name - to put it simply, he made a good impression. You turn your chair to him, "How are you liking your internship, is it the experience you hoped for?"

He smiled again, and his eyes practically twinkled. "I'm very grateful for the experience, I'll continue to work hard."

"I have no doubt." You nodded encouragingly at him and turned to face the screen before you. You figured he would move onto his fellows, go work on his project maybe, but he stayed standing there for a moment too long.

He heaved a breath as if steeling himself to say something risky. "Actually, there's something I wanted to ask you."

He looked suddenly shy, "I've read a lot of your stuff, you've been a real inspiration to me, and being able to work here has been-"

You know where this is going, you give him an understanding nod. Reading off the name on his chest, you lean in conspiratorially, whispering "I'm sorry, I won't be able to sway the decisions on who gets offered jobs after your program is up. But you're a hard worker, I'm sure y-"

He startles suddenly, waving his hands frantically, "No! Oh, no, no, I'm not... asking for anything like that... I'm sorry I came off that way, I was just... well," He swallows, and you attempt to track his eyes as they wander, confused about what he could possibly want from you.

"I just... I admire you a lot. You're bright, and...you're beautiful...and I was actually wondering if I could buy you a meal sometime?" He sounded so unsure of himself but he was standing up straight, breathing through his nose.

You weren't sure what to say. You knew you weren't unattractive but to be completely frank, people didn't ask you out. You chalked it up to being intimidating or perpetually busy, or a control freak. Whatever the cause, you were not accustomed to people liking you in that way.

You flush.

"Oh..." You had to replay his words over and over again. Your mouth opened and closed, and you tried to weigh what he was asking. He was cute, but also… he was an intern at the company you worked for.

Before you could even formulate a response, you were jerked back to reality when the gentleman who had just so adamantly confessed his feelings made an "aagh!" noise.

Yaga was tugging him by the ear. "You, young man, better get back to work before I deduct points from your final presentation for fraternization."

He looked overcome with embarrassment, rubbing the back of his neck while apologies spilled from his mouth. Yaga flicked him gently before he could bow anymore and rolled his eyes your way.

Dumbstruck, you stared at the screen of your computer for a long while. A dozen tabs were open, your task bar was still full of items you needed to get to today, even so, you found yourself cupping your cheeks, feeling the blood that had pooled there.

"Please don't tell me that was your type."

You're not sure when he appeared, but Gojo Satoru was staring at you with discernment. He had a judgmental eyebrow raised and he was tongue-ing at his cheek.

"Jesus." You huff, stretching your jaw, trying to brush off the flush you felt atop your ears. "What on earth are you doing?"

You made a brave attempt to type something onto a notation sheet. Dispelling the embarrassment that came with someone actually liking you.

"What am I doing? Look at yourself, you're all sheepish over some kid hitting on you."

You choke, "He's not a kid! He's graduated."

Satoru squints at you now, moving even closer. "Oh my gosh," he pulls a 'I'm-grossed-out-by-you-but-intrigued-all-the-same' face and continues, "are you actually into younger guys?"

"No!" You pant, your hands spread. He wasn't even that much younger than you, but being pressed about anything romantic, especially from Gojo was embarrassing.

"What's with this face you're pulling then?" He tapped the pen he had so rudely stolen earlier atop the wall of your cubicle, "I've never seen you all-" he fake gags, "-shy like this."

You huff, trying to find the words. "I'm-" you scoff, trying again, "not all of us are so used to...that sort of thing."

He straightens up suddenly, pulling his lips together, "Are you saying like... being flirted with?" He chuckles at the idea and you grit your teeth.

Breathing in, you try to laugh, trying to sound nonchalant, but it comes out annoyed. "Yes, Gojo, not everyone has people falling at their feet all the time."

Have I mentioned that Satoru, on top of being an incredibly talented creative, was a painfully striking individual to look at? Well, sure, he was very symmetrical. And tall. And he had...nice teeth. Veins too. It’s fair to say he wasn't lacking when it came to attention.

"So...you like him then." Somehow, he seemed offended at the idea.

"No, not necessarily." Was he trying to insinuate you were some kind of creep? He couldn't have been more than two years your junior. "But he was nice..."

"Nice?" Satoru wheezed. You didn't move. This whole interaction was ticking you off. Gojo's guffaws continued until he noticed you were just silently staring at him. "Are you serious?" He wiped a faux tear.

Why this was so upsetting for you, you couldn't quite place. "Yes, Gojo." You had a bit of an insulted tone to your voice, you wondered why he didn't seem to care about wasting his precious time with you suddenly.

"What... that's all it takes with you?"

Gears began to turn in Satorus' brain as he observed you now, taking in the new information.

"Normal people like niceness, Satoru, crazy, I know." You refuse to meet his gaze but he stands infuriatingly still, arms crossed, before his head canters to the side as if considering the concept for the first time.

"hmm..."

He shifts on his feet. You grow more tense by the second, waiting for his next snide comment. He clicks the pen a few times before slowly, setting it back on your desk. And then he was finally gone.

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lamb-teaa · 5 months ago

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` Choose Us, Choose Me

` pairing: colonel!Caleb x mechanic!reader

` tags: canon divergence!! strictly doesn't follow canon timeline!! but might seem similar?? idk tbh. anyway ANGST. full hurt no comfort. vague plot. vague relationship. vague mentions of betrayal and double agents. vvvery short scenario.

` teaa's note: having to wait for 22 Jan for Caleb's full lore to drop, imma indulge in my personal headcanon for this ficlet instead - a special (&painful) treat for all the Caleb girlies (and me ehe!) (⁠人⁠*⁠´⁠∀⁠｀⁠)⁠｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+

Your silence is the cruelest punishment he had ever endured.

Yet Caleb too remained silent as he watched you meticulously work on repairing his damaged bionic arm, not once had you uttered a single word since his impromptu arrival at your workshop stationed within the massive spaceship.

You merely glanced at him, your tired gaze instantly flickering towards his shortcircuiting arm before letting out a small huff of annoyance as you slammed the coffee mug on the messy table. Like a routine checkup, you wordlessly pointed towards the empty seat and began working on fixing his bionic arm back to good as new.

All the while the tense atmosphere remained palpable within the workshop. Even your trusty little invention-slash-companion robot, Brownie had jumped over the table, holding out all the necessary tools for you to fix Caleb up, yet the presence of the adorable little brown robot cat wasn't enough to shimmer down the tension in the air.

Your expression remained aloof yet the look in your eyes held a strong suppressed rage. Caleb winced when you purposely handled his arm a tad bit too roughly, shooting a side eyed glare at Brownie snickering at him, a clear message of 'you deserve it!' written all over your little companion's face.

Caleb was tempted to send the smug rascal flying across the room using his Evol.

...But he wouldn't want to risk facing your wrath, not when you're still mad pissed at him right now.

"...You know I had to do it." Caleb decided to break the silence first, his eyes locked onto your face, hoping to ease down your anger even just a little bit. "I was following orders."

You stayed silent, nonchalantly avoiding his gaze as your attention was solely on the holographic screen displaying the restoration process.

Caleb gritted his teeth, growing agitated by your lack of response. Why were you so stubborn? Why couldn't you understand him? Why do you have to subject him to this stupid silent treatment of yours?

Why can't you see he's doing all this for your sake?

"It's done." You finally spoke after a long tense silence, your voice cold and detached as you did the final adjustments on his bionic arm. His piercing stare was suffocating you and you wanted nothing more than to be out of his sight. "Now get out."

You had only turned around for a brief millisecond before his hand suddenly snatched your wrist, pulling you close to him. His taller frame towering over you, his face confronted in a mixture of anguish and pain - a sight that made your heart ache, but you refuse to show any weakness, not in front of him, especially not in front of a cruel man like him.

"How long are you going to keep this up?" Caleb spoke lowly, struggling to suppress his own anger. "Aren't you tired of these charades of yours?"

You glared up at him defiantly, despite the slight tremble from his iron grip. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't play dumb with me." He scowled, his grip on your wrist tightened slightly. "How long are you going to play both sides? Do you think they're going to let you off easily once they find out you've been secretly colluding with the enemy?"

His heart sank in dread at your unfazed reaction, as if you've been expecting this to happen sooner or later, that the consequences be damned if it meant fulfilling your own secret mission no matter the cost.

Even at the expense of your own wellbeing.

"..Choose us." Choose me. Caleb shut his eyes briefly before letting go of your wrist, his voice strained with a soft plea as his hands gently cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look up at him. "I can guarantee your safety if you choose our side, please Princess. You'll die if you keep this up."

He sees the flicker of hesitation in your eyes, the conflict swimming in those alluring gaze that never fail to make his heart stutter. But as soon as that raising hope for you turn to his side came, it vanished in an instant when you slapped his hands away.

"I'd rather much die." You spat, your fist clutched the collar of his shirt as you glared up at him, the hatred and disgust written all over your face as your final words shattered his heart into pieces.

"Than to serve the likes of abominations like you.”

#going full brainrot mode after Caleb's trailer dropped so this fic happened lmaoo #wrote it in a spur of the moment #caleb x you #caleb x reader #Caleb x y/n #lads caleb #lnds caleb #love and deepspace caleb #lads fanfic #lads angst #lnds angst #love and deepspace #love and deepspace scenarios

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barleyo · 11 months ago

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Consequence.

Adoptive Dad! Enji Todoroki X Fem! Reader (smut)

A/N: nobody asked for this but idc :3 i wrote this as a b-day present for myself!! i luv this old abusive man so bad oh my god!!! nasty old man who tries to be good but fails so miserably :3 old man who is just MEANT to be awful and abusive and gross!! luv it!!! i wanted to do a full on incest fic w him but idk if anybody would be interested >_< just let me know!!

Tags: adoptive-incest (daddy-daughter), age gap (18-50s), p in v, purity, sexual abuse mentions, loss of virginity, allusions to physical abuse, size difference, creampie, gross nasty stuff in general

Wordcount: 1.6k

Once all of his kids had given him a final 'fuck you' and left him on his own, Enji felt the pressure of loneliness crash down on him. Being on top in the hero rankings was worthless to him when he came home to an empty house. Every second he sat alone in his house, he realized that it was simply too big for just one man. It had never been a home, only a house where a fragmented family resided. Only once his kids fled did that realization hit him.

He needed to fill the space and quick, and more than that, he needed to start over. He wanted to redeem himself somehow. Whole new family for a whole new man.

But dating was hard at his age, and all the decent women were taken. Only fame-chasing whores were interested in him at this point, and he couldn't blame them. What the hell else did he have to offer? No woman would want to be with a tired, emotionally constipated, divorced, middle-aged man. Nor would any want to have kids with one, especially not at his age.

Adoption it was. Simple enough. Plenty of kids in the system. Plenty of needy little brats that could benefit from his new-found, new-wave parenting tactics that he read up on in his abundant spare time. 'Don't abuse your kids.' Who would've thought it? Crazy. 'Top ten reasons why your kids won't visit you when you're in the nursing home.' Well, shit.

He knew he had to go older. He would be absolutely damned if he would take in a toddler, or worse, a tween. He wasn't ready to raise anyone— he needed something already broken in for the most part.

17? Yeah, that should be fine. He could do that. Old enough to take care of itself for the most part. Another body in the house was what he needed, not another responsibility. A girl? Yeah. Girls were supposed to be easier, right? Girls are sweet and grateful, always considerate and willing to help out. Girls are gentle and tender.

Just his luck. He got the most clingy girl the foster care system had to offer. It was, at most, a bit irritating for the first few days when you were skittish and nervous around him all the time, but he understood. The problems occurred when you started to get comfortable.

He thought he wanted an affectionate little thing, especially considering the radio silence he received from his biological children, but this was just too much. Wherever he was, you needed to be. All day, all night. Twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, excluding when he was on patrol.

Enji knew that adopted kids tended to have abandonment issues, or whatever, but did you have to be such a damn velcro child? It was cute, in a way, the first year or so of your stay with him. He kinda liked it, having some positive attention finally turned his way, but at a certain point it was just too much.

Like when you turned 18 and decided that sleeping alone was no longer an option. Of course, he gave in. He tried to argue back, but the threat of tears from you was too much for his now mended heart. He was trying to change, damn it. He couldn't possibly not give you everything you ever asked for.

'Oh, what's that? Sleeping in daddy's bed isn't enough? He has to spoon with you until you fall asleep? Honey, do you really think—? No, no, don't cry. Okay, okay, I'll do it.'

Or when spooning wasn't enough, and you needed to be massaged before falling asleep in Enji's arms, taking up his bed like nobody's business.

'What's wrong, baby? Daddy's already rubbing your back, what else do you want? Touch you where? Baby— okay, since you said please.'

Every night, his thick fingers ran tight circles over your clit, strong arms holding you tight while you flailed and wriggled against him. You never seemed to get used to his touch. It was just too good. He split you open with his index and middle, curling into the spot you couldn't quite reach on your own. Every night, like clockwork.

But, of course, you, the mouse who was given a cookie, asked for more. Fingers weren't enough. You needed more from daddy. Sleep didn't come easily enough for you after his skilled touches. You whined for him after every exchange, but he just couldn't give you what you wanted.

Daddy would do almost anything for his baby, anything you asked! Hell, if it made you happy, if it helped to ease the guilt he carried from his older four screw ups, why not? If it helped to mend the hole he created in his own heart, he'd pepper you in every kiss and suck and touch you as much as you wanted him to, but—

he really didn't think he could deflower you.

The idea was too much, way too much. Kind of hypocritical of him. Finger banging and slurping on his adoptive daughter was well and good enough, but playing a little game of 'just the tip' was a line he didn't know if he could cross.

It was tempting, and every time he turned you down he felt like a real douchebag, but he didn't trust himself with you. You were so small. He was anything but gentle. He had broken enough of his kids in other ways, he didn't exactly want to add to the score.

Your cunt was swollen and drooling after your near nightly ritual with Enji. Crawl up into his bed, whine, scratch at him and beg for his sweet touch. You always got what you wanted, except for one thing.

"Why not?" you whined, gripping onto his forearm as he curled his fingers into you from his spot behind you, lazily acting as your big spoon.

"This is enough." His teeth were gritted softly, trying to hold himself back. "You cum like this just fine."

You let your mouth hang open, shuddering silently at how he seemed to speed up and abuse your g-spot. "Not enough," you were finally able to make out, legs clenching in an attempt to force him to stop.

Enji huffed, ignoring your whiny excuse. He hated when you locked him out like this, trying to keep your cunt from him like some type of half-assed punishment. Moving your legs back open, spread even further now, he continued fingering you with the same brutal, forceful pace.

"You're being bratty, baby. I don't appreciate when you act like that," he said simply, looking down at your convulsing body.

"You always say that," you said, pushing his arm as you tried to squirm away from him to pout. "You don't wanna 'cause you don't love me. Don't wanna get close t'me."

That was his final straw. He had been holding himself back for your sake, but he could not handle the hurt tone in your voice, even if he knew you were faking just to get him to bite.

He pulled his fingers out of your hole and pushed them into your mouth, stuffing the digits down your throat. He slipped his girthy cock out of his boxers, jamming the wide tip into your needy warmth.

"You know that is not true," Enji said, already fucking into you without regard to how you were almost too tight. He'd fix that. Make you fit like a glove soon enough. "I spoil you enough, and you still want more?"

You moaned, sound coming out muffled from his fingers blocking your words. He pulled them out, strings of saliva coating your cheek as he brought his hand back to your clit.

"Jus' wanna be closer to you 'nd feel you."

He scoffed, pushing down on your clit with too much force, bringing you to the edge of climax already.

"No, you're a spoiled brat. I give you too much," he said, not meaning a damn word that came from his mouth. "Got used to getting whatever you want, huh? Selfish little pussy taking everything it can get."

The pure euphoria you get from him being rough with you for once is unmatched. Daddy gave you what you wanted all the time, and you liked it, but he was too gentle with it. Like he was scared to mess up or make a mistake (again). You needed him to correct you, you'd wanted him to fuck some sense into you for so long.

You clenched the silky sheets on the bed, hands trembling while he pounding into you, hips cramming against yours spastically.

God, he was ashamed.

Not because he was fucking his daughter, hell, he came this far without problem. He just usually was much better in bed. Your gasps and shaky moans did little to appease him. Any other time, he'd be composed and sophisticated with his strokes, but he was sloppy and needy now.

His cock kicked inside of you, twitching when he spilled his seed. He was so caught up in his own embarrassment that he hadn't realized how dangerously close he had gotten.

"Daddy, did you—?"

Your question was interrupted by his hand covering your mouth, unstable thrusts continuing to fill your senses. You couldn't care that he came in you when he made you feel this good.

While your legs shook and your pussy gushed, one thing was made very apparent to both you and Enji:

This was the first time he let himself go and fucked you, but it would definitely not be the last.

#cw incest #tw: incest #enji todoroki x reader #enji todoroki #enji x reader #endeavor x reader #endeavor x you #mha #mha x reader #bnha x reader #x reader #dad x daughter

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