waffless-simp-blog - Tumblr blog

waffless-simp-blog · 14 hours ago

Text

Strictly Overtime

✦ One-Shot

Reader x Kento Nanami | 18+ MDNI

cw: smut, slow-burn tension, intense passion, controlled dominance, built-up tension, filthy, aftercare, round two, soft dominance, deep penetration, praise, overstimulation, passion masked as restraint

⸻

The first rule of working late with Kento Nanami was simple:

Do not flirt with him.

You learned this on your third joint mission — back when you thought teasing him might break that stoic expression. It hadn’t.

He’d only raised a brow and muttered, “This isn’t the time, or the place.”

So you didn’t try again. Not really.

But still… the air changed every time it was just the two of you. Quiet. Heavy. Loaded with things unsaid. And when he removed his tie after 6 p.m., sleeves rolled up, shirt clinging just so…

You always stayed a little later than necessary.

Just in case.

Tonight wasn’t supposed to be different.

You were cataloging cursed object records in the backroom of the archives — he was assisting, clipboard in hand, precise and focused as ever. It was already 8:13 p.m.

Definitely overtime by Nanami’s standards.

“I don’t suppose you’re planning to log these properly?” he asked without looking up, eyeing the sloppy stack of scrolls on your desk.

You smiled. “Why? You going to report me?”

His pen paused mid-line.

And then… he looked up.

“Maybe I should.“

Your breath caught.

His tone was neutral. But his eyes weren’t.

Not tonight.

You stood, moving closer to grab another box, deliberately brushing past him.

Too close.

And he didn’t move away.

His eyes followed you, slowly, deliberately, lingering just a little too long on the curve of your waist as you bent to lift it.

“Need help?” he asked, voice low.

“From you?” You smirked. “Didn’t think you believed in teamwork after 6.”

“I don’t,” he said flatly. “But I’m reconsidering.”

Your eyes met.

The air crackled between you.

He took a slow step forward. You froze — box in hand — as he reached past you to place another scroll on the shelf.

But his hand brushed your hip.

Deliberate.

Testing.

When you didn’t pull away, he straightened — close enough that you could smell the subtle musk of his cologne, see the tension in his jaw.

“You’ve been testing my patience,” he said softly. “For weeks.”

Your pulse thudded in your ears.

“You never said stop,” you whispered.

His gaze dropped to your lips.

“No,” he said. “I didn’t.”

And then — finally — he kissed you.

It wasn’t tentative.

It wasn’t slow.

It was controlled. Commanding. Nanami.

His hand found the back of your neck, pulling you in with a precision that felt more like claiming than kissing. He backed you against the shelving unit, lips moving against yours like he’d memorized every reaction.

You moaned softly as his tongue slid against yours — calculated, thorough, devastatingly good.

By the time he pulled back, you were breathless.

“I don’t like distractions,” he murmured.

“Then stop kissing me like that.”

His eyes darkened.

“No,” he said. “I don’t think I will.”

The Line has been crossed.

Your back hit the shelves with a quiet thud.

Nanami kissed you again—harder this time. Slower, but with that same purposeful intensity. Like he’d been planning this. Like he’d waited long enough.

You barely noticed your file box fall to the floor, scrolls tumbling across the tile. His hands were too focused—one braced against the wall by your head, the other gripping your waist with an authority that made your knees weak.

“I’ve stayed quiet for your sake,” he muttered between kisses.

His mouth moved to your jaw, then your throat. “Told myself it was unprofessional.”

You gasped as he nipped your collarbone. “It is…”

He pulled back just enough to look you in the eye.

“I don’t care anymore.”

He reached down and slid your shirt from your shoulders in one fluid motion—neat, practiced, efficient. You felt his breath falter when his eyes met bare skin, and for a split second, something fierce flickered in his usually composed expression.

His tie came off with a snap.

“Turn around,” he said quietly. “Hands on the shelf.”

You stared.

He raised a brow. “Or was this just a game to you?”

Your stomach fluttered.

You turned.

Your palms hit the cool wood of the shelf, breath catching as his hands returned—warm, firm, now sliding up beneath your skirt. He didn’t rush. He dragged his thumbs along the inside of your thighs, parting them, brushing higher…

“Already wet.”

You whimpered.

He pressed a kiss to the back of your neck—soft, reverent. A stark contrast to the way his fingers slipped under the edge of your underwear and found you, slow and teasing.

“This is what I’ve been avoiding,” he murmured. “How easily I’d lose myself in you.”

He curled two fingers inside, and you nearly choked on a moan.

Nanami moved like a man who knew exactly what he was doing—and exactly how far he could push you before you fell apart.

His fingers worked you open, precise and thorough, the heel of his palm grinding slow against your clit with every pass.

“Don’t hold back,” he said. “I want to hear you.”

You were already gasping, arching into his touch, fighting the tremble in your legs.

“N-Na—”

“Say it.”

“Kento—!”

He stilled his hand completely. You whimpered in frustration.

“I said say it,” he repeated, lower now. Rougher.

“Please, Kento.”

He kissed your shoulder, slow and dark.

“Good girl.”

When you came—legs shaking, hips jerking back into his palm—he held you firmly through it. No rushing. No teasing. Just the quiet, steady strength of a man who understood every inch of restraint and exactly when to let it break.

He didn’t stop there.

His fingers slid out, and you heard the sound of his belt unfastening—clean, metallic, inevitable.

You looked over your shoulder, panting.

He was watching you. Hair mussed, tie gone, shirt wrinkled. His cock already out—thick, flushed, gripped tightly in one elegant hand.

“Kento,” you breathed.

He stepped in close behind you.

“No more overtime,” he murmured against your ear.

“After tonight, I’m not keeping this quiet anymore.”

And then—he pushed inside you.

The stretch made you cry out.

Full. Deep. Hot.

His hands gripped your hips and held you steady as he bottomed out—slow, inch by inch, letting you feel the weight of him, the overwhelming presence he carried even in bed.

“You take me so well,” he groaned. “Better than I imagined.”

You clenched around him, the praise firing through your chest like a live wire.

“I thought about this too,” you admitted breathlessly. “So many times.”

He pulled out halfway and thrust back in hard, making you gasp.

“You should’ve told me,” he muttered. “I would’ve made time.”

Nanami’s pace was relentless but focused. Not wild—never wild. Each thrust was measured, powerful, the work of a man who knew how to build pressure until it boiled over.

You felt the shelf rattle with every push.

Your moans turned into soft cries, your fingers gripping the wood in front of you as he wrecked your body like a well-paid job.

“You’re doing so well,” he murmured, voice tight. “You’re perfect.”

You nodded, dizzy with heat. “Don’t stop. Please—”

“I won’t,” he said. “Not until you break for me again.”

And you did.

Mouth open, body shaking, back arching as you came around him—wet, clenching, full—and that finally broke his control.

He cursed under his breath, pulled you flush against his chest, and thrust deep a few more times before he spilled inside you with a low groan, head dropping to your shoulder.

Silence stretched for several seconds.

Only your breathing.

Only the sweat cooling on your skin.

Then—Nanami reached for his tie, still hanging nearby.

And with an ease that made your knees weak again, he cleaned his hand… and helped you tuck your shirt back into place.

“Should I apologize?” he asked, voice quieter now, steady.

You turned, resting against the shelf, lips still parted, cheeks flushed.

“For what?”

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “For doing this here. Now.”

You smiled.

“If you hadn’t, I would’ve.”

That made him laugh—softly, genuinely.

“Well then,” he said, fixing the cuffs of his shirt like he hadn’t just ruined you.

“I suppose we’re both working overtime.”

The silence after was almost reverent.

Nanami still stood close, his breathing slow but audible, body radiating heat. He didn’t say anything as he helped you straighten your skirt and smooth your shirt, still buttonless at the top.

But when his hand lingered at the small of your back—

You knew he wasn’t done.

“I’ll clean this up,” you offered, glancing at the scattered scrolls and records across the floor.

He didn’t let go of you.

“I’m not concerned about the mess,” he said quietly.

His voice had dropped again—that rich, low register that slid right down your spine.

You turned slowly, meeting his gaze.

Gone was the strict professionalism. Gone was the carefully managed distance.

Kento Nanami looked like a man who’d crossed a line and didn’t regret it for a second.

“You didn’t finish,” he said softly, eyes dropping to your still-bare collarbone. “Not really.”

You blinked. “Kento—”

He was already taking your hand.

“Come with me.”

The break room couch was small. Narrow. Uncomfortable by most standards.

But with Nanami lowering you gently onto it—hands careful, mouth brushing yours between every movement—it felt like the softest place in the world.

“You okay?” he asked, kneeling between your legs, unbuttoning your blouse again—this time slowly.

You nodded. “Better than.”

He kissed your sternum. “You don’t have to prove anything.”

You reached for his tie again, smiling as you pulled it loose. “I know. That’s why I want to.”

This time, there was no rush.

No rough urgency or frantic grip.

Just him—methodical and thorough, like he’d set out to memorize you.

He dragged his mouth down your body with reverence, tasting your skin, sighing softly when he reached your inner thighs.

“Let me take my time,” he said.

And he did.

His mouth on you was devastating.

Gentle but firm. Tongue deliberate. Fingers teasing your entrance, slick with your first orgasm and his earlier release, stroking deep and slow while his lips sucked at your clit with maddening control.

You tried to be quiet.

He didn’t let you.

“Don’t hide it,” he murmured. “I want to hear what I do to you.”

You whimpered, hips lifting as he curled his fingers deeper, hitting a spot that made your whole body shudder.

“That’s it,” he said, voice rough. “ Yes. Let go.”

Your second orgasm came in waves—smaller, trembling, but so much deeper. You clenched around his fingers, thighs shaking.

He didn’t stop.

Not until you pulled at his hair, tugging him up, needing more.

“Inside,” you whispered.

Nanami hovered over you, flushed and focused, sliding his cock back through your folds.

“You’re sure?”

You reached up, guiding him in yourself.

“Yes.”

The second time was slower.

But deeper.

More intense.

He thrust in with an aching kind of precision—watching your face, your breathing, the way your body reacted to every inch.

No games now. No teasing.

Just his hips pushing forward, cock dragging along every sensitive part of you, his mouth at your shoulder as he whispered your name like a prayer.

“You feel unreal,” he muttered. “Like you were made to fit me.”

You clenched around him. “Kento—please—”

“Shh,” he murmured. “Let me have you. Just like this.”

He gripped your hips, pulling you flush against him on each thrust, deeper, deeper, deeper, until you could barely form words anymore.

When your third orgasm hit—softer, but drawn out and overwhelming—he kissed you through it.

Not frenzied.

Not demanding.

Just slow, deep kisses while he fucked you through the aftershocks.

And when he finally spilled inside you again, chest pressed to yours, arms wrapped around your shoulders, face buried in your neck—

It was quiet.

Like a secret.

Like something sacred.

He didn’t pull out right away.

He stayed there, holding you, breath slowing, one hand moving gently up and down your side.

“I’ve wanted this,” he said softly, lips brushing your temple.

“For how long?” you asked.

“Long enough that I almost convinced myself I didn’t.”

You reached up and touched his jaw—his beautiful, tired face.

“You don’t have to go back to pretending.”

He smiled.

“I wasn’t planning to.”

He helped you clean up, even brought you a warm towel from the nearby utility sink. He re-buttoned your blouse for you. Adjusted your necklace.

It was the quietest tenderness you’d ever been given.

Nanami didn’t ask for your number.

He already had it.

But he did say:

“Tomorrow night. Dinner. Something slow. Something… normal.”

You grinned, tugging him down for one last kiss.

“Only if we skip dessert again.”

He chuckled against your lips.

“No promises.”

The sunlight crept in through the half-closed blinds, slicing warm golden lines across the modest walls of Nanami’s apartment.

You lay in his bed—soft sheets, minimal decor, a space as neat and structured as the man himself.

Except now?

It wasn’t neat anymore.

A tie draped across the lamp. Your skirt pooled at the foot of the bed. His shirt—your current blanket—was wrinkled beyond recognition, one button missing entirely.

And beside you, propped against the headboard, was Kento Nanami.

Reading.

With glasses on.

You stared. “You wear those?”

He didn’t look up. “Only in the morning. When I’m not expecting company.“

You smirked. “Guess I’m special.”

“You were that before you spent the night.”

That made your heart skip.

He glanced at you then, over the rim of his glasses. Hair messy, jaw shadowed, the clean lines of his body half-covered by a bedsheet.

Kento looked devastating in the morning light.

And worst of all?

Soft.

“You don’t have to stay,” he said carefully. “If you’ve got work. Or if… last night was just an anomaly.”

You sat up, letting his oversized shirt slide open at the collar.

“Do I seem like I want to leave?”

His eyes flicked down. Paused.

Then back to your face.

“No,” he admitted. “But I’ve learned not to assume.“

You leaned over, kissed his jaw.

“Assume this,” you murmured. “I’d stay all morning if you let me.”

His hand slid across your thigh under the sheet. Warm. Grounding.

“You can stay as long as you like.”

He got up eventually—only to make coffee.

You padded into the kitchen behind him, shirt half-buttoned, bare legs brushing tile. Watching him in his boxers, hair slightly tousled, pouring freshly ground beans into a French press like it was a ritual.

He passed you a mug without a word, like he’d already memorized how you take it.

You sipped.

“Mmm. Dangerous.”

He glanced over. “Too strong?”

“No. You.”

You grinned. “You’re very… domestic in the morning. It’s a trap.”

He didn’t smile.

But the tip of his ear definitely turned pink.

You leaned against the counter, sipping coffee and studying him.

His back. The muscles. The smooth way he moved.

And the bruises he hadn’t even noticed on his neck from the night before.

“You left marks on me too,” he said without looking up.

Your brows lifted. “Yeah?”

He nodded once. “Here.”

He tapped the base of his throat. “And here.”

He pointed lower, under the waistband of his boxers. “But I’m not showing you that one.”

You tilted your head. “Why not?”

He finally met your gaze.

And smirked.

“Because if I do, we’re not leaving this kitchen.”

You finished your coffee in record time.

And when you reached for his hand to lead him back to the bedroom—

He followed without hesitation.

໒꒰ྀི ˶• ༝ •˶ ꒱ྀི১ hope you like it!!

be sure to check out my other stuff too <3

taglist: @queenshu

#jjk #jjk smut #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #nanami kento x reader #smut #jjk kento #kento nanamin #kento smut #jujutsu kento #kento nanami #kento fluff #nanami kento #namami kento

77 notes · View notes

waffless-simp-blog · 1 day ago

Text

‘ mdni — satoru wants to see you in a wedding dress ft fem!reader◞ unprotected sex◞ creampie◞ ’

your cute fiance Satoru who comes home tired from work, bringing your favorite food to dine and cuddle after, which of course, turns into a heavy make out session with your body on top of his on the couch, feeling the warmth of his tenting bulge under your pussy, which drags deliciously up and down, almost soaking through the flimsy fabric of your panties that barely conceal your arousal.

“baby...” he pants breaking the kiss, just a bit to murmur heatedly against your mouth, “can you put on your wedding dress?” and fuck if that does not make your pussy throb, the thrill of sex in the pristine white dress that was perfectly hidden and hung on the closet away from your lover’s eyes, even weeks before your wedding was too much, to dirty to fight against.

so your nails dig a little on his shirt and nod, all breathy and plump lips from the kiss, “yeah..., god yeah, wait here”

it did not take long, it should have with how clumsy you were in the lust haze, tossing the garment on, although careful with the lace and expensive fabric of the dress Satoru insisted you spend as much money from his black card as you wish, breathing out a soft “fuck” upon your arrival, eyes trailing you up and down and squeezing his bulge through the pants, “you look stunning, can’t wait to make you mine for the rest of our lives...” already with his shirt unbuttoned and pushed open, allowing for his pale abs to be seen as you kneel between his legs, dress bunching on the ground while you quickly undo his pants and lick the drooling tip.

Satoru’s eyes roll back as you suck his cock, he has never been able to refuse your pretty mouth wrapped around his length, but right now, he wants you, “oh, baby” he grunts, giving your face a tiny buck, “you always look amazing with your mouth full of my cock, but I need to see you, come here...” he gently tugs, freeing his cock from your lips with a pop, “stand up for me” and you obey, holding onto his shoulders and looking like a fucking angel in your gorgeous dress, lips finding your covered abdomen and up to one of your breasts, “perfect, my gorgeous bride”

“I love you” you breathy confess, holding onto his shoulders to get on his lap and hump your soaked panties over his cock once again, “I need you, please fuck your soon to be wife, Mr. Gojo”

“anything for my wife” he breathes, sliding his hands to grip your ass under the dress and thrust up, the feeling of your wet pussy enveloping his cock is exquisite, making his head spin in bliss.

a hiccup and a mewl, “the... dress, ah... will get ruined” you mutter, although your hips buck up and down, purposely riding that fat cock that aims for your spot almost like on autopilot, “fuck... ah, fuck!” the first worry about the dress all tossed outside the window, really you could just take it to the laundry tomorrow.

with eyes almost crossing, Satoru fucks you hard, pulling you up and down and enjoying your almost choked screams, fabric rustling and your eager cunt squelching with each deep thrust, it was almost embarrassing how quickly he was about to cum, eyes squeezed closed and hungrily sliding his cock in and out your hole in a rapid pace with fingers digging in your ass, “f-uck, fuck, gonna- ung-”

“cum!” you gasp, pussy clamping at the twitching and drooling of precum inside your soft walls, barely moving your hips so hes aiming even deeper, harder and so delicious that your body quivers, “cum inside your wife”

that’s enough for him to cum, holding onto your orgasming body with so much force you're breathless, cum shooting deep into your womb with a low growl of pleasure, “my wife, my beautiful bride”

458 notes · View notes

waffless-simp-blog · 1 day ago

Text

‘ mdni — satoru wants to see you in a wedding dress ft fem!reader◞ unprotected sex◞ creampie◞ ’

so your nails dig a little on his shirt and nod, all breathy and plump lips from the kiss, “yeah..., god yeah, wait here”

“I love you” you breathy confess, holding onto his shoulders to get on his lap and hump your soaked panties over his cock once again, “I need you, please fuck your soon to be wife, Mr. Gojo”

that’s enough for him to cum, holding onto your orgasming body with so much force you're breathless, cum shooting deep into your womb with a low growl of pleasure, “my wife, my beautiful bride”

458 notes · View notes

waffless-simp-blog · 2 days ago

Text

“How much longer do we have to walk?” you whine, already latched onto his arm like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to Earth. Which, to be fair, it sort of is.

Gojo hums, casual as ever with one hand shoved deep into his pocket, your smaller hands snug around his bicep.

His jacket is draped around your shoulders, swallowing you whole in his scent and the leftover heat from his body. It’s a little ridiculous how much comfort you’re taking from it, how you keep leaning into him like he’s your personal heater.

"Almost there, sweetheart,” he murmurs, dipping down just enough to kiss the crown of your head. The nickname slips out so easily that you barely register it, yet it makes your stomach do a sleepy somersault.

You groan a little but don’t respond, letting yourself be guided forward. The night is chilly and the stars are out. For once, the world is perfectly still, with no sound except for the soft scuff of your shoes against pavement and Gojo's gentle steps beside you.

Then you halt mid-step, heels clicking to an abrupt stop.

Gojo doesn’t notice right away, mid-ramble about how the moon is like, 30% sexier tonight. But then his body stiffens, like a dog that’s lost its leash. He slows down, eyes already flicking back over his shoulder before his whole body turns to face you. His senses are obnoxiously tuned to you, even when he's acting aloof.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, eyebrows knitting slightly as he crouches a bit, large hands already reaching to cup your face. His thumbs brush the hair from your eyes, tilting your chin up tenderly. “Are you feeling sick?”

Your lips press together for a moment before your bottom one eases forward. “My feet hurt, ‘Toru.”

Those big, glassy eyes of yours look up at Gojo as if you’re the most innocent creature on Earth and not someone who probably premeditated this exact situation. Your cheeks are flushed with the glow of wine, lower lip pushed out just so, and he swears the sight makes him fall in love with you all over again.

And God help him, because he's so doomed. Absolutely, irrevocably, probably even embarrassingly in love.

You’re about to open your mouth again, probably to pile on the drama, but he cuts you off with motion.

You yelp as he suddenly lifts you off the ground—one arm hooked beneath your knees while the other supports your back—in one smooth swoop. Your own arms immediately brace around his neck, fingers tangling in the strands of his hair as you try to gain some balance.

“Satoru!” you squeak, half-laughing, half-indignant.

“Mhm?” he answers way too calmly, adjusting you like you weigh nothing.

From your new vantage point, you catch the glint in his eyes.

He knows. He knows exactly what you were doing. But worse, you see that he doesn’t care. In fact, he’s delighted to be playing right into your devious little schemes.

“You planned this, didn’t you?” he asks with mock accusation, peeking down at you with sparkling eyes. “The whole pouty damsel act. Scary how good you’re getting at it.”

“I did not!” you sputter, gripping his shoulder tighter just as he pretends to lose balance, wobbling a little.

“Woah—whoops—gravity check!” he gasps, tilting just slightly to the side.

You flail a little, squirming in his grip as he wobbles again on purpose, fingers clutching his shirt like a lifeline. “Jesus christ—!”

“Oh nooo,” he says, barely suppressing a laugh. “The alcohol’s affecting my motor skills. I might drop you, baby.”

"If I hit the pavement, I’m taking you down with me!”

Gojo bursts out laughing, head tipping back as his whole body shakes, the sound rich and reckless like it always is when he’s having too much fun.

You glare, cheeks puffed out in betrayal, but your arms stay locked firmly around him.

“You’re such an ass,” you grumble, but it’s half-hearted at best, voice muffled against the crook of his neck.

Gojo dips his head with exaggerated slowness, then presses his lips to your temple with a softness that betrays just how much of his heart you actually have.

“Alright, princess,” he breathes, smiling into your hair. “Let’s get you home.”

You hum in contentment, curling deeper into him as he walks on—carrying you through the night like it’s the most natural thing in the world, his jacket wrapped around you and your weight cradled in his arms.

Little did you know, he’d carry you like this for the rest of his life if you’d let him.

Credits for the divider: @honeyluvsw

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jjk imagines #gojo imagine #gojo #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk fluff #gojo fic

283 notes · View notes

waffless-simp-blog · 2 days ago

Text

Honeymoon Hangover

Cw: Heavy explicit smut, blowjob, cunnalingus, dirty talking, size kink, a little bit of cnc, husband/wife kink, mating press, cowgirl, overstimulation, Toji has a tongue piercing and an eyebrow piercing. Husband!Toji x reader

The sheets are warm, heavy, and still smell like you.

That’s the first thing Toji notices—your scent lingers, a soft clean sweetness mixed with the faintest trace of the night before, that musky perfume of sex and skin and sweat clinging to the linen like a memory. But your body, your weight, your warmth—it's gone. The second his arm stretches out and finds nothing but cool sheets, his brow furrows, a low groan rumbling in his throat as his eyes crack open in a lazy, sleep-thick haze. The sun is soft, pouring golden through gauzy curtains, lighting up the edges of the hotel suite with a warm glow that only pisses him off more. You're not there, and worse, he woke up hard without you beside him.

He's still naked, cock half-hard and lazily twitching under the crumpled sheet, morning wood thick and pulsing just from the scent of you left behind in his arms. He shifts, muscles rippling under tanned skin, scarred torso flexing with each annoyed breath, already scowling even before he’s fully awake. His voice is hoarse, deep and gravelly, teeth grit as he mutters to himself, “What the fuck…”

Then he hears it—soft padding footsteps, a faint creak of the bathroom door opening, a low hum of steam slipping out like mist curling into the air, and then you step out.

And it’s fucking over for him.

You step out of the bathroom like you don’t even know what you’re doing to him.

Wrapped in nothing but that damn robe that clings to your damp skin like sin, the steam still curling around you like a halo, your hair wet and dripping down your shoulders, beads of water trailing along the dip of your throat and disappearing between your tits. Your skin’s flushed from the heat, glowing, glistening—like you just got fucked. And Toji’s jaw ticks at the thought that he wasn’t the one doing it. His cock twitches under the covers the second he sees you.

And you? You walk across the room like you're not even aware of the firestorm he’s choking back. Like you didn’t just leave him to wake up hard and aching on the first fucking morning of your honeymoon. He watches the way the slit in your robe parts when you move—just enough to tease him with the outline of your thighs, your hips, the bounce of your tits underneath as you settle at the vanity with this lazy grace like you're putting on a goddamn show without even trying.

You cross your legs and start your little skincare routine, like everything’s normal. Like you're not dripping and warm and so fuckable it hurts. Toji’s voice is thick with sleep and edged with irritation, low and gravelly like a growl. “You serious right now?” he grits out, rubbing a hand over his face. “Why the fuck didn’t you wake me up? You know how much I love fucking you in the shower” you catch his gaze in the mirror, and there’s that soft smirk curling on your lips like you already knew he'd say something. Like you wanted this.

“You looked so peaceful,” you hum innocently, tapping something on your cheek with two fingers, like you’re not slowly driving him insane. “Didn’t wanna wake you up” Toji scoffs, muttering something filthy under his breath as his eyes drop to your thighs again, following the way they press together. He passes his tongue to wet his lips revealing a glint of the tongue piercing he has, ruffling his hair revealing an eyebrow piercing too on his right brow, “Peaceful? Baby, I’ve been looking forward to fucking you in the shower since last night,” he mutters, “You’re really gonna make me watch you glow like that after a shower I wasn’t even invited to?”

You giggle, sweet and smug, and he knows you’re doing this on purpose. Every step, every flick of your wrist, every soft sigh from your lips—it’s all to rile him up. “Baby, you could’ve just dragged me in there” he grumbles, but there's heat simmering behind every word now, his tongue clicking in annoyance. “It’s our honeymoon. We’re supposed to be making love every damn hour.” he shifts on the bed, the sheets slipping lower, revealing the taut plane of his abs and the deep grooves that lead straight to where he’s already hard. He props one arm behind his head lazily, the other trailing over his stomach, fingers dipping lower like he’s waiting for you to give in.

“Take that robe off, baby” he says, smirking now, voice slick with sin. “Do your little skincare thing naked for me” you roll your eyes, but he sees that smile tugging at the corners of your lips. He knows you love this; the way he watches you, the way his eyes eat you alive.

You stand up slowly, giving him a side glance, and then untie the robe with a little extra sway in your hips, tugging the fabric open inch by inch. He doesn’t blink, his breath hitching. The robe slides off your shoulders and down your back, sticking slightly to the damp skin before falling to the floor in a soft puddle. Toji groans—low, guttural, like the sound’s been clawing its way out of his throat. His cock is already rock hard, the head red and leaking, and he doesn’t even need to touch himself with how much he’s dripping. But of course, he does anyway.

His hand wraps around the base, stroking slow and tight, watching the way you pretend not to see him in the mirror. His thumb swirls over the tip, spreading his own precum with a hiss. “Look at you” he mutters, eyes locked on your bare ass as you lean over the vanity, pretending to focus on dabbing serum into your cheek. “All wet and soft and glowing—fuck, baby, you know what you’re doing to me” you tilt your head, voice saccharine and smug. “What am I doing, Toji?”

“Toying with me” he breathes, stroking faster now, letting his eyes travel up the line of your spine, watching how your ass sticks out when you lean just right. “You know I’d fuck you on that vanity, face pushed against the mirror while you moan my name with that stupid moisturizer on your face” you hum, pleased, lips parting as you pretend to smear cream under your eyes, arching your back just enough to make him bite back a growl.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” he snarls, jerking his cock tighter now, his chest rising and falling as he watches you keep doing that slow, girly routine while he’s dying behind you, "Come here, baby” he groans, stroking his cock slow and heavy as he watches you from the bed, head propped on one arm like he’s lounging—like he’s not seconds away from wrecking you. “Don’t just stand there looking pretty, get on the bed. Come show me how much you missed me”

You glance at him through the mirror, lips tugging into a teasing smirk, but he sees the way your legs shift—like your thighs are already clenching from the sound of his voice alone. Toji’s gaze darkens, thumb swiping over his leaking tip with a hiss. “You’re really gonna make me jerk off by myself on our honeymoon? That’s cold, baby” he murmurs, the corner of his mouth twitching like he already knows you’re about to cave. “You left me here with a hard cock and no mouth to fuck. You’re so mean”

He says it with that deep, sultry voice that melts right into your spine—mocking pout and everything—like he’s sulking just to lure you in. You roll your eyes, but he catches the way your breath stutters. “You know you love it,” he whispers. “The way I stretch your throat, how heavy I get on your tongue, how messy you get when you try so hard to take it all.” You glance over your shoulder at him finally, eyes narrowing. “You’re so annoying.”

“And you’re so wet” he shoots back, grinning. “Bet your pussy’s clenching just watching me stroke it, huh? You miss how it tastes? You always lick it up so eager when I let you” you hate how right he is. How your body reacts before your brain even catches up. “C’mon, wifey. Climb up here and suck your husband off like you mean it. Let me see those pretty lips wrapped around my cock, you know it’s your favorite way to start the morning.” He grins wider when you finally move, slow and reluctant just for show—but you both know how badly you want it. You climb onto the bed, between his spread legs, his cock twitching the closer you get. His hand falls away, giving you space like he’s presenting it to you—a gift he knows you won’t refuse.

“That’s it” he murmurs, voice low and reverent as you crawl toward him, eyes locked on his cock. “Good girl, show me how good that perfect mouth feels. You’ve been such a brat all morning—you gonna make it up to me?” you don’t answer. Just lower your mouth over the tip and let your tongue swirl around it while he groans, head falling back against the pillow, knuckles white as he fists the sheets.

“Fuck yeah” he hisses, already breathless. “That’s my girl” your tongue flicks over the slit to taste the salty mess he’s been dripping just for you. It’s thick and warm, and you moan at the weight of him—how massive he feels even on your tongue. And god, the noise he makes—low, desperate, guttural—it punches straight through your core. He forces himself to raise his head up to watch you play with his sensitive tip.

“Fuck,” he hisses, head falling back again, voice strained like it’s physically hurting him to stay still. “That mouth…that fucking mouth” your hand wraps around the base—barely, your fingers don’t even meet—guiding him deeper, inch by inch, until he’s heavy on your tongue, too thick, stretching your jaw open wide like he’s made to break you. You hollow your cheeks and suck hard, pulling a groan out of him so filthy it vibrates through the air.

“Jesus, baby—y’know how insane you make me look?” he breathes, voice wrecked already. “Fuckin’ married now and I still feel like I’m dreaming every time you suck me like that” you hum around him, throat already fluttering as you try to adjust, eyes fluttering up to meet his—and he damn near loses it. “Ohhh f—fuck, look at those eyes,” he moans, hips twitching. “All glossy and sweet like you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing to me” you pull off with a wet pop, gasping around spit, licking your lips slow just to tease him more. His cock twitches against your palm, soaked in your saliva, too big to hold with one hand. “Poor baby” you coo, stroking him slow while your tongue teases his tip. “You gonna cum just from a little head?”

He scoffs, breath hitching as you take him in again, this time deeper—your throat tightening around him, spit already dripping down your chin, no hope of taking him all the way but still trying like a good little wife should. “I will if you keep sucking me like that,” he groans, hand reaching down to cradle the back of your head, fingers curling into your damp hair. “Fuck, that’s it—relax that throat, c’mon baby. You can take it” you moan in response, muffled and eager, pushing down until he’s hitting the back of your throat. Your gag reflex kicks, your throat twitching violently around him, spit bubbling out the corners of your mouth, running down your chin like syrup. He’s so big, too thick to breathe properly around, and you love it.

“Fuckkk, there you go,” he growls, hips stuttering forward before he catches himself. “Goddamn. You’re such a good little wife for me, huh?” you gag again as he holds you there for a few seconds longer, watching your eyes flutter, your throat bulging obscenely. When he finally lets you pull back, the mess you’ve made is filthy—your chin shiny with spit and precum, strings of it clinging to your lips and chest as you stroke him real good.

“You look so fuckin' pretty baby,” he groans, eyes wide and drunk on the sight of you. “My perfect little slut, my wife, filthy mouth made just for me.” you smile, sticky and smug. “You like watching me choke on it, don’t you?”he laughs breathlessly, voice rasped and raw. “I love watching you choke on it, love how messy you get, love the way your pretty little throat bulges every time I push in deep. You gag so fuckin’ pretty, baby, like you were built to take your husband cock.”

You flatten your tongue and take him deeper again, letting him hit the back of your throat while your hand slides lower to fondle his balls—rolling them slow, wet and heavy, as you swallow around him, tears welling instantly and his head slams back into the pillow. “Fucking shit,” he chokes out. “Keep goin’, just like that, don’t stop. Gonna fuckin’ cum all over your tongue, baby. You want that? You want your husband to fill your throat first thing in the morning like the nasty little wife you are?”

You nod as best you can, your mouth stretched around him, spit streaming down your chin. He’s too big for your jaw, too long for your throat, too much—and it’s everything you want. His cock twitches in your mouth and he grabs the back of your head again, guiding you up and down faster, rougher, his hips rolling into your face with slow, shallow thrusts that make your throat clench and nose press flush against his pubic hair, unconsciously inhaling that musky masculine scent mixed with some of your spit.

“Yeahhh, that’s it,” he growls. “Fuckin’ take it. Gag on it. C’mon, baby—let me use that throat. Wanna cum so deep you feel it in your stomach”you look up at him again, watery eyes desperate, but still hungry. “Do it,” you slur when you finally pull off for air, stroking him fast and messy, spit and precum slicking your fist. “Cum for me, Toji. All over my tongue, wanna taste all of it, want you to fuckin’ ruin me.”

And that’s when he snaps

“Open your mouth, baby,” he pants, you're pumping his cock fast now, thick veins bulging, tip flushed and leaking like crazy. “Stick out that tongue. You want it so bad? Fuckin’ take it. Take your husband’s cum.” and you do—mouth wide, tongue out, eyes fluttering—as you stroke him through it. And when he cums, it’s loud and raw and filthy. “Fuuuuuckkkk,” he roars, head thrown back, stomach tight as thick spurts of cum paint your tongue, your lips, your face. Hot and heavy and endless, each pulse messier than the last. You moan like it’s your favorite flavor, catching every drop, licking it off your lips as you milk him dry.

You keep sucking even after, soft and slow, coaxing the last drops out of him while he groans, utterly wrecked, one arm flung over his eyes, breath gone. “Goddamn” he whispers, voice barely there, completely fucked out. “You were made for me” you grin, lips still shiny with spit and cum, slowly lifting your head, watching the way his chest rises and falls—so heavy, so drained—but those dark green eyes are still open, still locked on you like he’s not even close to finished.

He reaches for you lazily, hand cupping the back of your head, and tugs you up over his body, mouth parting as you hover over him. “C’mere,” he murmurs, lips already brushing yours. “Lemme taste you tasting me” and you melt into him.

The kiss is filthy—all tongue and teeth and breathy moans, your mouth slick with his release, his mouth groaning into yours like he needs it to survive. He kisses you like you’re his fucking oxygen. Like he’s starved and you’re the last thing he’ll ever get to devour. His hand slips into your hair and tightens, guiding you to tilt your head just how he wants it so he can lick deeper, sloppier, growling as he sucks on your tongue like he’s trying to reclaim it. You moan in his mouth when you feel that tongue piercing, making your pussy throb.

“Fuck,” he breathes against your mouth, teeth scraping your bottom lip. “That pretty mouth was made for me. Can’t believe I married the nastiest little pretty cocksucker in the world, just for me mmm” you giggle into the kiss, lightheaded, still buzzing, but his mouth is already chasing yours again—more, always more. He kisses down your jaw, across your cheek, down your throat. “Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,” he murmurs, tongue dragging over your skin. “But I need the other flavor now” your breath hitches. He’s trailing lower, licking across your collarbone, kissing between your tits, and your thighs instinctively tighten around his waist.

He looks up at you through thick lashes, and the hunger in his expression makes your stomach drop. “Toji…” you whisper, chest rising and falling. “I just showered—I’m clean—don’t wanna get messy again—” but his growl is instant, deep and feral, rumbling from his chest like it came from somewhere deeper than language. His hands shoot up, grabbing the backs of your thighs, yanking you forward before you can even think.

You gasp as he drags you over his face, manhandling you like you weigh nothing, until your soaking cunt is hovering right above his mouth. He lays flat on the bed, arms locking tightly around your thighs, and you don’t even have time to brace yourself before—“Sit” he grunts, voice dark and ragged, lips already brushing your folds. “Be a good wife and sit on your husband's face”

And he devours you.

His tongue licks one broad, hot stripe through your folds and you let out a loud moan, hips bucking, hands flying to the headboard to stabilize yourself. The tongue piercing is the first thing you feel—cold and firm against your clit before his whole tongue flattens and slides again, messier this time, lips dragging open-mouthed kisses against your cunt like he’s starved for it. “Dripping already,” he groans between licks, mouth full. “So fuckin’ sweet. That little pussy was waitin’ for me.”

Your thighs twitch around his head, breath hitching as you try to rise—but he grunts and slams you back down, nose buried against your clit, tongue fucking up into you so deep you see stars. “Ride it, ride my fuckin’ face, baby. Get that pussy sloppy, gimme all that sweet fuckin’ juice.” you whimper, thighs starting to tremble as you grind down against his face without even meaning to. His tongue moves fast, flicking over your clit in sharp, wet bursts, the metal ball of his piercing rubbing your clit perfectly with every swipe. You cry out, already dripping, and he just groans louder. “Yeah. Rub that pretty pussy all over my fuckin’ tongue. That’s it, ride it. Let me feel it soak my face.”

You can hear it now—the wet, filthy sounds of his tongue working through your folds, his spit mixing with your slick, dripping down his chin. It’s obscene, like every motion is designed to fuck you harder than any cock could. He groans against you, tongue curling into your entrance before sliding back up to suck your clit between his lips. “God, baby—this pussy’s so soft, so hot, so fuckin’ perfect. Gonna stay right here till you’re cryin’. You hear me? Gonna make you beg me to stop.”

You’re already barely holding yourself up, chest heaving, moaning so loud it echoes off the walls. You can feel his tongue dragging from your clit to your hole and back again, tongue-fucking you deep and slow before he flattens it against you and shakes his head—lips and nose soaked, eyes fluttering closed like he’s high off your taste. “Such a tight little cunt,” he groans, voice muffled under your pussy. “Can’t believe it’s all mine. Fuckin’ married this pussy, own it now. Gonna fuckin’ worship it every day.”

You choke on a moan, thighs quivering as you rock against his face harder now, chasing that high he’s pushing you toward. His hands spread your ass, pulling you open more so he can devour you, tongue flicking circles around your clit, mouth slurping as if he’s eating the best goddamn thing he’s ever tasted. “You taste like heaven, baby. Lemme drown in it. Rub that pussy on my face. Cover me in it. Fuckin’ ruin me.”

You cry out his name, head falling back as your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave—your hips buck, grinding hard against his mouth as your thighs shake violently around his head. But even as you sob and moan through it, he doesn’t stop. “More, give me more” you try to lift up, overstimulated and gasping, but his grip tightens. “Don’t fuckin’ run, baby, sit that pussy back down. We’re not done.”

His tongue is merciless—licking, flicking, sucking, that piercing dragging over your swollen clit like it’s a toy just for him to use on you. Your whole body trembles, and he just keeps going, mouth buried, breathing through your slick, groaning like he’s losing his mind. “Fuck yeah. Cry for me, baby. Gimme those pretty little sounds, wanna make this pussy sob.” and you sob, exactly like he wants.

You finally tear yourself off his face, thighs trembling so bad they buckle beneath you. Your entire body feels like it’s still being licked—still being devoured—even though Toji’s mouth is slick and shiny with your cum, lips glossy and chin dripping like he’s been baptized in you. You fall sideways onto the mattress, panting, stomach clenching, breath short and choppy.

“Toji,” you whimper, limp hand brushing sweat from your forehead, your inner thighs soaked and twitching, pussy swollen and spent. “F-Fuck, I can’t—I’m so—” he’s already sitting up.

That massive cock—still wet with your spit, your slick, his cum—is rising again, thick and twitching, his abs flexing tight as he grabs your waist and drags your limp body toward him like you weigh nothing. “No, you’re not done,” he growls. “C’mere.” you barely have time to process before he hauls you into his lap, manhandling you like a ragdoll, and settles you right on top of his cock. Your eyes fly open, muscles locking when the thick, leaking tip kisses your entrance. He lays back down, his hands on your hips.

“Toji—Toji, wait—I-I can’t—”

“You can,” he grunts, grinding you against his shaft, dragging your soaked pussy lips along the underside of his cock. “Look at you, you’re already dripping, that messy little cunt’s begging for more.” you whimper, shaking your head—but your body betrays you, hips stuttering as the fat head of his cock catches on your puffy clit. “Ride me,” he whispers, and that voice—gravelly and rough, hungry and dark—it shoots straight through you. “Be my good little wife, sit on it, stretch that ruined pussy around my cock.” your breath hitches, hands bracing against his chest, and you sink down.

The burn is instant—your hole stretches wide, spasming around him, the thick shaft parting your walls with no give, no time to adjust. You cry out, throwing your head back, nails digging into his skin. “Fuuuuck,” he groans, hands gripping your hips. “That’s it, baby. Still tight—still struggling. My wife and this pussy still doesn’t know how to handle me?” you sob out something incoherent, legs quaking from the strain, and Toji watches you with his mouth parted—obsessed, so pussy drunk.

“Goddamn,” he mutters. “Look at that fuckin’ view, you’re leaking all over me. Look at your tits, bouncin’ for me like they know who they belong to.” one hand slides up, grabbing a breast and squeezing it roughly, thumb brushing your hard nipple while he thrusts up into you shallow, slow. “Wanna fuckin’ live in this pussy” he moans, “So warm, so wet, so goddamn mine.”

You whimper as your body starts riding him, slow and messy, pussy struggling to grip all of him—too wide, too deep, too much. You’re too overstimulated and cockdrunk and still trying to please him, even as your body trembles. “You’re a dream” he growls. “A perfect fuckin’ wife, made to ride me, made to cum for me.” you sob when you feel your orgasm building up—sudden, violent thrusts, slamming into your overstimulated clit as you bounce weakly in his cock. Your thighs give out, body collapsing forward, you wrap your arms around him and bury your face in the crook of his neck.

“‘M gonna—Toji—fuck, I’m cumming again—”

“That’s it,” he breathes, grabbing the back of your head. “Cum on it. Cum while I’m still deep in that sweet little pussy.” but before the spasms stop—before you even start to even come down—he grabs you and flips you onto your back, your legs tossed over his shoulders, knees pressed to your chest. He drives back into you with a snarl, slamming in deep, full mating press, thick cock bottoming out so hard you scream.

“Toji—fuck, wait—!” You push at his chest with shaking hands, face flushed, breath caught. “It’s—it’s too much—I can’t—”

“You can,” he growls, voice breaking, sweat dripping from his jaw onto your tits. “You’re gonna take it” your eyes roll back when he starts fucking you for real—hips snapping into you with force, heavy balls smacking your ass, the head of his cock pounding your cervix. “Listen to that fuckin’ pussy” he snarls. “Listen to how wet you are. You love this.” you try to speak, but it’s just moaning—nonsense. You’re brainless, nothing but gasps and cries, and Toji eats it up like a man possessed.

“Fuckin’ cock drunk already?” he huffs, his hand pressing against the bulge in your belly. “Look at that. You see that, baby? That’s me, all of me, splitting you open from the inside.” you cry, body writhing under him, and he leans in—lips brushing your ear, voice trembling now. “How’s it feel?” he whispers. “Tell me how good your husband makes you feel.”

“S-So good,” you sob. “So fucking big—hurts, Toji—feels so good—I’m gonna break—” he groans loud, cock twitching deep inside you, pace growing rougher, more desperate. “That’s it. Tell me, tell me you love this cock.”

“I love it,” you cry, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Love your cock—love being your wife—want you to fuckin’ ruin me—” and he loses it. “Gonna fill you up,” he growls, hips stuttering. “Gonna knock you up right here. Flood this pussy with so much cum you’ll be leaking for days. My fuckin’ wife—this pussy’s mine to breed.” and then he cums—hard with a loud moan, his eyes rolling back, his cock buried to the base, twitching deep inside, hot cum painting your insides in thick, endless spurts. You gasp, legs shaking around his waist, pussy milking him through it all.

He groans like it hurts, collapsing on top of you, your bodies slick, wet, connected everywhere. Toji presses a kiss to your shoulder, then to your jaw. “Fuck” he breathes. “You were made for this.” and he stays inside you—softening slowly, twitching with aftershocks, your pussy still stretched around him.

Still shaking, still full, still his.

Your whole body’s limp—soft and heavy and slick with sweat and cum, toes still twitching from aftershocks, lips parted as you lie there dazed and ruined beneath him. Toji hasn’t moved since he came inside you, his cock still buried deep in your sore, overstimulated cunt, arms locked around your waist like you’ll float away if he lets go. He’s breathing slow now, that thick chest rising and falling against yours, his face pressed into the crook of your neck.

You can feel the way he’s twitching inside you, lazy little pulses of heat as he lets out the softest, sleepiest groan against your skin. “Fuck, baby…” he murmurs, lips brushing your shoulder, voice slurred with post-orgasm haze. “You’re perfect. So fuckin’ perfect. My pretty little wife, takin’ all of me like that…” You shiver when his hand cups your mound, palm warm, thumb sliding down to press right against the mess leaking out of you. You let out a small whine, thighs twitching.

“Toji—too much…”

He only hums, stroking gentle circles over your clit—not enough to hurt, but just enough to remind you who left you like this. “Shhh, I know. I know, baby. I’m just feelin’ you. Still so fuckin’ full. So warm. Keep it in for me, yeah? Let me hold it there…” His mouth peppers slow, wet kisses down your throat—kisses that aren’t even trying to be sexual anymore. Just soft, comforting, obsessive little touches like he’s trying to memorize your skin with his lips.

You feel him start to shift, groaning slightly as he finally pulls out, and you whimper at the drag of him slipping from your body, hot cum spilling out immediately, making a wet mess on your thighs and the sheets. He pulls back just enough to look at you, and you’re not even surprised when he brings his hand between your legs again—two thick fingers gathering his cum from your swollen cunt and pushing it back in gently, even as your hips twitch and you let out a broken gasp. “Toji—oh my god—”

“Shhh, baby. Just makin’ sure it stays. Gotta take care of you.” he leans in and kisses your stomach—low and slow and tender, whispering, “Wanna see you round one day. All soft and knocked up in this pretty belly. You’d look so fuckin’ gorgeous like that…” you laugh breathlessly, tears slipping out the corners of your eyes from how full your chest feels. “You’re insane” he grins lazily, eyes glazed with post-nut devotion. “Yeah, for you.”

He finally gets up, grumbling as he walks to the bathroom, grabbing a warm, damp towel and coming back to clean you up with careful, soothing motions. Kissing your thighs in between every swipe. Cooing sweet shit like, “Such a good girl,” and, “Look at this pussy. All red and messy—fuckin’ masterpiece.” by the time he’s done, you’re half-asleep, boneless on the bed, and he slides back in behind you, big arms curling around your waist as he presses his face into your hair, snuggling you like a giant human furnace.

You hear him whispering against your ear, all raspy and thick with sleep: “I love you, baby. So much. Gonna keep you like this all day, don’t wanna move, just wanna hold my wife.” your heart’s full, you’re warm, safe, dripping, full of his

Then—the door bell rings

Room service.

You blink, dazed. Toji stiffens. “…Was that the fuckin’ door?” you snort. “I think that’s breakfast.” he groans like someone just stabbed him. “You’ve gotta be shitting me” he buries his face in your shoulder again, groaning louder. “Who the fuck told them to bring food now? We just started cuddling, my dick’s still wet.” you’re giggling now, trying to pull away, but he tightens his grip like a giant puppy refusing to be kicked off the bed.

“Don’t answer it,” he mutters into your skin. “Let ‘em leave it. I’m not done cuddling, you leave this bed and I’m dragging you right back.”

“Baby, it’s just food—”

“I am food,” he grumbles. “Didn’t I just eat you out for like twenty minutes?” you let out a laugh and he kisses the back of your neck like a sulking child. “Stupid hotel, ruining my wife time.”

Another ding.

You roll your eyes and try to slide out of his arms again, only for him to flip you onto your back and settle on top of you like a weighted blanket, cock soft but heavy against your thigh, arms caging you in. “You’re not going anywhere,” he mutters.

“Toji—!”

“Nope, let it get cold. You’re warm, breakfast can wait. My wife can’t”

And honestly? You let it.

Now that's a fuckin honeymoon right there for Toji

#jjk #toji x you #jjk smut #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #fushiguro toji x reader #toji smut #smut #toji x reader #jujutsu toji

77 notes · View notes

waffless-simp-blog · 2 days ago

Text

Hide and Seek

CW: Heavy explicit smut content, forest sex, consensual-non-consent, knife play, possessive sex, cunnalingus, blow job, dirty talk, spitting kink, obsessive/possessive behaviour

Yandere!toji x reader

“Let’s play hide and seek”

Your eyes widen in fear at his words, in this cold dark deep forest? you gulp in fear making him grin at your reaction, “Come on baby.. I’ll give you twenty minutes! You better run and hide from me because I’m pretty fucking good at hunting—especially if the prey is you, and you know I'll do anything to have you back in my arms again” cold shivers run down your spine at his words, your eyes flicker to that huge sharp cold knife held in his hand, it looks so heavy and sharp it could probably easily slice a tree. You have no choice, no choice but to play the game, this is your chance. You waste no time and turn around and start running, you don't even know where you're running but just somewhere far away from him, you can hear him laugh like a fucking maniac he is, the laugh echoing throughout the huge dark cold forest.

You don’t care, you don’t even look back and just run, run and run. Your arms hitting low tree branches and the roots trying to make you trip and trample. You just keep on running. You let out a low hiss when you feel the slight cuts on your arms, roots trying to tangle your legs as if the forest is trying to help Toji find you easily, your plain white shirt is now covered in dirt, soil and some blood by the cuts you're getting by the thorny branches.

You reached a deeper and a darker part of the forest, you bend a bit, resting your palms on your knees as you catch your breath, panting heavily you wipe the sweat off your forehead and and look back for a quick second to see and hear if Toji is anywhere near—nope not a single sign you ran way too far there's no way he would come here this fast after all he gave you twenty minutes.. right?

You look around for a place to hide in this cold forest and your eyes flicker to a huge old tree, surrounded by thick bushes— okay this can do, you run towards that tree and move the bushes around not even caring about the fact that any of them could have some thorns in them or any animal or any poisonous insect waiting there to kill you. You crouch down and hide between the bushes and make sure you’re not seen at all, you stop breathing when you hear some heavy slow footsteps—sticks cracking, small rocks getting kicked, there’s no fucking way he reached here so quickly. It hasn’t even been twenty fucking minutes.

Your heart drops and you stop breathing when you see him walk pass by thought the bushes, watching him walk slowly as he looks around the messy area, slowly with a focused look, the knife still looking clean and sharp as ever in his hand, holding it upside down, lightly grazing his thigh. You cannot let out a single fucking sound, you can't risk it, this man is way too fucking crazy and could— not could, he will kill you. He finds pleasure in torturing people, he's a sadistic fucking psycho and you hate him— you loathe him, you were going to grab each and every fucking chance to run the fuck away. You're fucked if he sees you, your heart is beating way too loud he could probably hear it.

As you notice him walking pass by, not noticing you and you heave a silent relieved sigh— barely audible, you close your eyes for split second, placing your palm on your chest but all of a sudden—

Your body gets yanked and picked up by someone—your legs are kicking in the air as an instinct, a yelp leaves your dry throat and your heart drops to your ass when you hear him let out a dark chuckle. “Found you my pretty little baby” his voice dripping— full of venom, he carries you with one arm, your back tightly in contact with the side of his body, you don’t say a word and use the rest of the little energy you have to get away from his grip when all of a sudden the tip of his cold sharp knife slightly touches your throat making you squirm at the sudden cold sharpness feeling on your throat, the damp earth smelled rich and wild, mixing with the sharp tang of metal from the knife pressed against your throat, his breath a scorching whisper tickling your skin.

“You try getting away from me and I’ll fuck you with this knife, do you understand that!?” He barks in your ear making you flinch and you immediately stop. “Do you know how hard it was for me to be away from you in these twenty minutes? I was so sure I was gonna get you but a small part of me was scared that I might loose you forever! I can't fucking bare that-no I'll burn this entire forest and shred each and every animal, every person- every tree to find you and have you in my arms again, you could never run away from me sweetheart” He hugs you tightly, his arm tightly wrapped around your stomach— almost crushing your ribs as he nuzzle his nose into your messy hair that probably had a leaf or two tangled in your hair.

You feel him inhale your scent so sharply and deeply, his eyes darken, pupils wide, drinking you in like you’re the only thing holding his fractured mind together—more than prey, you’re his drug “Oh baby even though I was scared that I might loose you—I loved hunting you down like a fucking lion hunting on their pretty little lamb. You’re the only light in my endless dark, the only soul who could tame this madness inside me. Without you, I’m nothing but a broken shadow, a beast with no prey” he purrs and pecks your cheek that was stained with some dirt, “And I’m damn sure you loved me hunting you down like a pretty little weak lamb you are, you like—no you love me chasing you down and caging you up and being possessive over you yeah? Makes your small tight little pussy drip hm? Am I right?” You mind screamed at you to fight, to run, to scream—but a filthy part of you trembled with desperate need, the shame burning you—the way his words made your pussy actually twitch.

He places you on a flat stone, your back hardly hits the cold dirty stone making you let out a hiss and he immediately brings the knife near to your face, still reminding you that if you try anything he won’t hesitate to fuck you with that sharp long knife, he smirks as he leans down, near to your face, his hot breath fanning on your cheek, his hand wraps around your throat softly, not enough to choke you but enough to feel your pulse, he sticks his wet tongue out and licks your cheek with a soft groan, he bites his lip and you look down at his dirty grey sweatpants, oh he’s hard as hell.

He leans and crashes his lips on yours roughly, he grunts giving you a sign to open your mouth more and you do it out of fear and oh boy the way he swirls his warm tongue- so slick and demanding inside your mouth, exploring your wet warm mouth, sucking your face like a hungry beast, you can’t help but submit to him, a small whimper leaves your mouth when his hand that was already wrapped around your throat tightens a bit as he deepens the kiss, wanting to eat your face at this point.

You had no idea kissing felt this good—you were supposed to loathe him and bite his lips and make them bleed, make him groan in pain but the way he makes you feel is a mix of hatred and lust. The loud lewd wet kissing noises echoing the silent forest makes you so fucking wet, he breaks a kiss by lightly biting your lower lip and a string of saliva connects between your swollen lips with his. He looks down at you so hungrily yet so drunk as if he just took some addictive drug—you.

He slowly brings the knife back near to your face making your breath quicken, his face so close to yours, sweaty foreheads almost touching, breaths mingling. He slowly puts a light pressure of the knife into the white plain shirt you’re wearing and tears it right in between your tits making you gasp, he slowly brings the knife down. The knife’s edge whispers against your shirt, slow and deliberate, teasing your skin like both a promise and a threat, he slowly tears the shirt down but being very careful with it, just to not hurt you. Lust and desire filled in his dark green eyes, his other hand still wrapped around your throat.

Once the shirt is fully torn he moans at the sight of the matching black bow set you’re wearing, simple yet cute and elegant. You let out a gasp when he slides the tip of the sharp knife beneath your bra, the cold tip touching your warm skin. He easily cuts the bra and your tits spill free, the cold dirty air slapping your nipples making them hard and you haven’t even realized how wet your pussy became and you were not ready for him to see and notice it, you hated but also loved the feeling of what he was doing to you and you hated yourself for that, he grazes the knife down from in between your tits slowly down to the stomach then your wide hips, you feel the blade slide under the delicate lace of your underwear and cut it open on one side then repeats the same on the other side, your breath catching so painfully you forget how to exhale.

Every nerve in your chest coils in dread, but your thighs twitch and tighten, helplessly drawn to the danger as a glistening thread clinging between your soaked folds and the ruined fabric, the entire sight was so beautiful and pleasing to Toji he just wanted to eat you right there right then. He was so glad there was no one else around to see you in this state or else he would’ve fucking gauged their eyes out. You hated the way your body responded to him, the slick heat pooling between your legs betraying every ounce of terror—you wanted to scream, to claw at your skin and scrub the shame off, but all you could do was lie there and let him drink in the mess he made of you, and Toji could see it all—he can tell how you're body is betraying your mind

“You’re so wet baby oh my god I had no idea you were such a slut for me” he bites his lower lip in excitement. He strips the torn bra and panties from your trembling body, tossing them into the shadows without a second thought His other hand leaves your throat and grips his cock tightly with a low groan, you almost choke when he grabs your shaky hand and brings it to his clothed hard cock, making your hand squeeze his hard cock and your heart drops at the feeling of how big it feels. You feel him twitch against your palm as he speaks, his voice growing rougher, more unhinged. Your hand trembles, caught between fear and… something darker. Your hand trembles around his cock, disgusted at how your body reacts.

“You feel that baby? You see how fucking hard I am for you? Hm? You know we could live here forever—I could build you a house here and fuck you all day and night, not a single soul here to free you, to touch you—just me, how does that sound? Hm? I’d bury babies into your warm womb all fucking night and get you pregnant every fucking year and live happily ever after! You’d be such a good, loving, caring and an obedient wife won’t you? After I’m tired of hunting down for food to feed us—to feed you, have you depend on me and me only, I’d fucking kill anyone that tries to get you away from me, you can relieve all of my stress out by sucking me off nicely, riding me and giving me the best fucking view of your tits and watch your face twist with pleasure when I hit that perfect spot inside you? hm? Pleasing me like a good wife rewarding me for my hard work, mark you mine all day all night, have you moaning and screaming my name till the animals nearby run away at your screams and milk my cock so good yeah? You’d let me eat that sweet pussy yeah?” Your throat dries up and your cheeks burn with shame—his filthy promises twist something deep in your gut, and the worst part is the way your thighs clench at his words.

Every word out of his mouth wraps around you like a noose, suffocating you with a vision so depraved and twisted you want to scream—except your body won’t let you. The idea of being bred, caged, owned—it terrifies you. But it also... throbs inside you.

He leaves your hand you could've just—shoved him away. But instead, your body arches up to meet his touch. You want to scream at him. Instead, your throat releases a moan when he squeezes your right tit lightly, his thumb rubbing on your nipple, “So big so soft so fucking full it fits so perfectly in my hand” he murmurs, admiring you so lovingly.

He leans down and gives a small lick to your hard nipples before taking it all in, a moan leaves your throat when you feel his wet warm mouth engulf your cold hard nipples, sucking and playing with it and spitting on your tits to make it sloppy, hands playing with the other one, he repeats the same action on the other tit and bites them lightly making your back arch with a soft whine and he growls. Once he pulls away you can feel your tits covered in his wet warm spit, looking down at you with a satisfied smirk. Oh he loves the thought of covering your body with his spit and cum—like a sign of claim.

He gets on his knees, hitting the uneven wet dirty soil, his eyes on your laid body on the cold stone, your back is slightly arched. He grabs your thighs bringing you closer, he does it carefully so your skin doesn’t scrape against the cold hardened stone, his hot breath fanning down on your wet pussy, the sight of him staring at your pussy, licking his lips and then looking back at you made your pussy drip even more, your arousal is probably dripping down on the stone, he blows lightly on your wet pussy making you squirm and let out a desperate needy whine, his cock throbs with urgency, but he slows down, he’s risking it all just to taste you—to savor you, to devour you first— he leaves open sloppy kisses on your sensitive inner thighs making you moan as you can feel yourself get even more wetter.

He pushes your legs back making your knees touch your chest, you feel so fucking exposed. “So soft so pretty so fucking wet all just for me” he murmurs as he inhales the scent of your arousal making him let out a low moan. He parts your wet folds and almost cummed at the sight of the strings of arousal on your pussy, looking so damn wet and messy already. You hate him. You hate yourself more for the way your thighs clench at his words. “Look at this,” he mutters, voice low and rough, like gravel dragged over silk. “So wet for me, and I’ve barely touched you.”

He spits on your pussy making it even more wet and sloppy, mixing his spit with the strings of your arousal, so dirty making you let out a moan. His eyes locked with yours, the string attached between his tongue and your clit makes you wanna squirm, your legs unconsciously close making him growl and hold your thighs harder making you wince a bit and spreads it even more making your knees almost touch your nipples, you feel even more exposed now.

“Don’t you fucking dare do that again, or else I'll fucking tie your legs up to the trees! keep your legs up” he orders you and you just nod, eyes closed shut, “Look at me” you force yourself to open your eyes and lock eyes with him, the eye contact makes it so much more intimate and better. Your body obeys before your mind catches up, a shiver running down your spine as his mouth finally descends. The first lick is slow, from bottom to top, tongue flattening and dragging, deliberate torture.

Your hands fly to his hair, gripping hard, unsure if you’re grounding yourself or holding him in place. A string of moans escape your throat when he leans down fully and pushes his face in your pussy, his hot wet tongue licking your clit, rubbing circles on it making your back arch, your hands unconsciously pull on his raven locks pushing him further and deeper into your pussy, your eyes rolling back when he thrusts his tongue in and out of your clenching hole.

His tongue goes back at your swollen throbbing clit every five seconds after thrusting his tongue deep into your pussy, fast and wet. You could see every fucking thing he’s doing from this angle. Your mind goes fucking numb when you feel his hand crawling up to your breasts, giving one of them a light good squeeze as he rubs his tongue on your clit making your eyes close shut again in pleasure. “You taste like sin,” he murmurs against you, his voice vibrating right through your core. “I could live between your thighs and never come up for air.”

Your heavy lids flutter open and catch him staring down at you, his eyes dark and hungry as he devours you. The wet, lewd sounds of his tongue and lips against your slick flesh echo through the silent forest, wrapping around you like a twisted lullaby. “Oh, Toji…” you moan, your voice trembling as his name falls from your lips, and he groans, vibrating against your core.

His nose brushes over your swollen clit, inhaling your scent mingled with his own spit, each breath fanning the fire burning low inside you. Your legs tremble uncontrollably, hips instinctively rolling against his face, craving more of that reckless heat. Your fingers dig into his dark hair, clutching the raven strands as he teases and torments your sensitive bundle of nerves—licking, sucking, biting gently but possessively.

You were supposed to hate this. You were supposed to resist.

But the way his tongue strokes your aching clit, the way he skillfully sinks deep into your dripping heat—it’s a torture you can’t deny, a twisted salvation you crave in secret. You lose yourself completely when he adds a slow, deliberate rub of his thumb against your swollen clit, perfectly timed with his relentless flicks inside your tight, pulsing pussy. You become a moaning mess, helpless and deliciously undone, and he feeds off every desperate sound you make. “You like that, baby? You love being devoured by me, don’t you? Such a filthy little slut for my touch,” he murmurs with a dark chuckle, his voice low and possessive.

No matter how much you want to fight it—to push him away and run—every part of you aches for more. More of him. More of this savage, intoxicating hunger.

A familiar coil bubbles up in your lower abdomen “I’m gonna cum,” you barely manage to gasp, your voice trembling with need. He growls low against you, voice thick with hunger and possession. “Already? Fuck, you’re so fucking needy. Cum all over my tongue, baby. Let me drown in your sweetness—every last drop.” He spits on your pussy again, thick and hot, dragging his tongue through the slick mess. The way he does it—so filthy, so hungry—it makes your body shiver. You never thought spit could feel this good… but with him, it’s a mark. His claim. Your orgasm crashes over you like a storm, loud and raw.

Your body shakes, legs trembling uncontrollably. Eyes flutter shut as your chest rises and falls, sweat dripping down your neck and forehead. Your hair’s a wild mess—tangled, soaked—and god, you look fucking delicious like this. Toji’s lips suck every drop with a guttural hum, dark eyes locked on you with an animal’s hunger. “Mine,” he purrs, voice venomous but satisfied. “You’re mine—body, soul, every damn part. No one else’s hands will ever touch you. Not while I’m breathing.” He stands slowly, towering over you like a storm ready to break. “You’re my filthy little secret. My goddamn addiction.” He leans down again, voice dropping to a growl. “I’ll fuck you so raw, baby, you’ll forget your own name. No one’s gonna save you—no one even wants to. You belong to me.”

His mouth crashes on yours, savage and claiming, lips dragging possessively over yours. You twist your fingers into his hair, pulling him closer, desperate to drown in him completely. He pulls back slightly, eyes dark and dangerous. “Look at you, dripping for me like the good little slut you are. Don’t you even think about running—’cause I’m never letting you go.” Your breath catches as he continues, voice thick with lust, “I want you shaking beneath me, screaming my name so loud the whole forest knows who owns you.” he trails kisses down your jaw, his hands roaming possessively. “Every inch of you belongs to me. I’ll mark you so deep no one else will ever come close. You think you can hide that wet little pussy from me? I can smell your need from a mile away.” You whimper, heart pounding, caught in the heat of his words and touch. He grins darkly, voice low and wicked. “You’re mine, baby. And I’m gonna remind you of that every fucking second.”

He leans in, crashing his lips harshly onto yours—tongues clashing, breaths mingling. Soft whines and desperate whimpers mix with rough grunts and guttural growls. Every groan, every hungry kiss twists something deep inside you—a filthy secret you want to hide but can’t. Hatred and craving coil so tight it almost hurts. He pulls back, fingers tightening around your breasts with a possessive squeeze, then rises from the cold stone. “Get on your knees here on the stone” he orders, eyes locking onto yours, silently commanding.

“Don’t wanna mess up that pretty body of yours on this dirty ass soil,” he murmurs low. With a swift motion, he yanks down his grey sweatpants and boxers in one fluid move. His cock springs free, slapping hard against his abs, and a deep groan rumbles from him—heavy, throbbing, utterly ready. Your eyes widen at the sight—thick, long, and impossibly hard. He smirks, catching your gaze locked on his shaft. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m sure your pretty little mouth—and that tight pussy of yours—can handle every inch. If not, well…” He shrugs with a wicked grin, “I’ll make it fit.” You can’t help but notice every detail—the angry red mushroom tip glistening with pre-cum, the subtle veins tracing along his shaft, the way his balls hang heavy and round. His pubic hair is just right—not shaved, but not wild—perfectly messy in the most tempting way.

He whips out his knife again, snapping you back to the raw, urgent reality. “Sweetheart, I’m not waiting around all day—now wrap those pretty little hands and those swollen lips around my cock and suck it,” he growls, pressing the cold blade just to your throat. You gulp hard, heart pounding, and dive in without hesitation. Your shaky fingers wrap around the thick base, making him hiss, low and deep. “Spit on it, baby. I wanna see you spit on my cock, slobber all over it, suck me so damn sloppy like the filthy little slut you are.” His voice is rough, possessive, dripping with hunger. You obey, your lips closing over his tip, the thick glob of your spit making him moan with need. One hand grips the base tight, the other greedily fondles his heavy balls. Oh he's in fucking heaven.

“Okay, baby, now slow... one inch at a time. Suck that tip—goo—” His eyes roll back when you swirl your tongue around his swollen, sensitive head, and a breathy moan escapes him. His hand tangles in your hair, fingers threading through the messy strands before yanking them up into a tight ponytail, fist clenched, controlling your pace. The other hand clenches the knife with lethal intent. “Look up at me, baby,” he rasps, and you lift your eyes, locking with his. His breath hitches, stunned at how you look so innocent—rosy cheeks, swollen lips, messy hair—all while giving him the dirtiest, nastiest blowjob. Naked and vulnerable, yet so fucking delicious.

He’s obsessed. Utterly obsessed with you.

“Lick my cock—all over,” he commands, voice low and rough. You obey, swirling your tongue around the tip in slow, teasing circles, then sucking hard enough to make his body twitch and his knees buckle. You trail your tongue from base to tip, dragging it harshly with a loud pop that makes him hum, eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back. “Such a fucking tease—” he grunts, breath hitching. His eyes snap open, locked on you as you take him deep, slow and deliberate. Spit drips down his shaft, slickening his balls, making it easier for you to cup and squeeze them gently. He lets out a low hiss at your touch. “Take more, baby,” he orders, thrusting his hips forward just enough to push the tip to the back of your throat. You gag and choke around him, the sound of his loud moans drives a fire straight through you.

Your wetness slicks against the cold stone beneath you, making you ache even more. His grip tightens in your hair, fingers threading through the strands as he starts setting the rhythm, pushing you deeper, controlling your pace. Spit dribbles down your chin, mixing with your own saliva. “I’m so fucking proud of you, baby. Such a good girl, taking me like this—so eager, so fucking perfect for me.” His voice is ragged, possessive. “Ugh, fuck.” Your eyes water, throat burning, but you can’t stop. His needy moans drag you further down, a delicious trap you’re too caught up in to fight. You were supposed to hate him—hate this—but every sound he makes turns you on more, and you’re drowning in it.

But oh well..

He loses control, his knife clattering to the ground, forgotten. Now both hands are on you— one gripping tightly in a fist, keeping your head in place, the other cupping your cheek like you’re something precious even while he uses you so roughly. His hips start to roll faster, deeper, the sharp sounds of wetness and his low, guttural groans filling the air around you. Your hands grip his thighs for support, your teary eyes looking up at him — wide, glassy, submissive — and the sight makes him growl. He pushes your head down until your nose brushes the trimmed hair at the base of his cock. His scent, masculine and thick, overwhelms you, makes your thighs clench, and your soft moan against his cock sends vibrations that have him snarling.

"Fuuuck—your throat’s perfect," he breathes, voice hoarse with lust. "So wet, so tight—like it was made just for me. Can’t wait to feel your pussy wrapped around me. Bet she’s dripping already, huh? You gonna let me stretch her out the way I’m stretching your throat? Fill her up till you can't take it?" You moan again, shamelessly, drunk off his words and the rough rhythm of his thrusts. Spit is trailing down your chin, your jaw aches, and yet you want more. Need more. His grip tightens. “Shit, I’m close. You want it? Want all of it, baby? Gonna swallow every drop for me like a good fucking girl?”

The praise, the filth, the heat in his eyes — it sends a spark down your spine that has your body begging for more, desperate to be used and filled and claimed.

“Let me cum on your pretty face.” His voice is a rough, guttural snarl, gutted by the raw need pulsing through every tense inch of his body. You feel it—feel him—thick and twitching inside your mouth, stuffed so deep in your throat it hurts. His cock pulses violently, desperate, the heat of it nearly unbearable. Your throat tightens on instinct, lips stretched, drool sliding shamelessly down your chin as your eyes blur with tears.

“Oh fuck—” He pulls out abruptly, the slick drag of his cock through your lips leaving you breathless. You gasp, coughing on air like you’d forgotten how to breathe without him. A long, obscene string of saliva still clings between your tongue and the fat, swollen head of his cock, glistening in the moonlight like a thread spun from lust itself. The sight of you—ruined mouth, flushed cheeks, eyes glassy with arousal—makes him lose all restraint. “Jerk it for me,” he grunts, voice thick and trembling. Your hand flies to him without hesitation, fingers wrapping tight around the slick, spit-soaked shaft. You stroke fast, messy, your wrist snapping with fervent rhythm while your other hand steadies you on the cold stone. He watches you with wild hunger, chest heaving, muscles locked as his climax builds to a brutal peak. His eyes roll back. A loud, animalistic moan rips out of him as his release finally hits.

White, hot ropes of cum shoot from his cock, splattering across your face—your cheeks, your lips, your lashes. It paints you, streaking your skin like he’s marking you, claiming you, branding you as his. He yanks your hand away and finishes himself, gripping the base with brutal pressure, jerking through the last spasms as he milks every last drop onto your already-soaked skin. “Fuck,” he pants, his voice wrecked.

He leans against the tree behind the stone, one arm braced above you, heart hammering against his ribs. His cock hangs heavy and wet, still twitching slightly, covered in a slick mess of spit and cum. He stares down at you—kneeling, glazed, defiled—and it stirs something deep and sick in him. He exhales hard, then lowers himself again. With a filthy growl, he presses the flushed head of his cock to your lips, smearing the mess across them, dragging it slowly—reverently—over the curve of your mouth like he’s trying to remember how it felt being inside you. You shudder. So does he. “Already miss that mouth,” he mutters, more to himself than you. His hand cups your jaw then, thumb smearing a glob of cum from your cheekbone. And before you can speak, before you can even flinch, he shoves his thumb between your lips—forcing it past your teeth. You taste him instantly. Salt, heat, the sharp tang of him exploding across your tongue.

No warning. No request. Just him, feeding you what’s his, watching you swallow like it means something.

And to him?

It does.

“Lay down and open your legs.” His voice is ragged, split apart by panting, like he’s been holding himself back for hours and has finally snapped the leash. He strips the rest of his clothes off in a rush, sweatpants hitting the ground with a dull thud. Then the shirt comes off, peeled over his head, revealing that brutally built muscular body—shoulders broad and heavy, chest slick with sweat, abs flexing with every breath. His arms are massive, veins running like rivers down to his knuckles, one hand twitching with need. You stare—openly, shamelessly—eyes trailing over every thick line of muscle and sweat-soaked sinew. You don’t move. Not yet.

He notices. A low growl rumbles from his throat, without a word, he grabs the knife. Not even raising it, just holding it—letting the metal glint under the moonlight. A reminder.

A threat wrapped in promise.

Your breath catches. A hard swallow forces its way down your throat. You nod quickly, spine stiffening, and lie back on the cold stone. The rock bites at your skin, but you barely register it, too focused on the shift in his eyes—the feral flicker of dominance as you finally obey. “Hold your legs up,” he commands, voice dark. He motions it with the blade.

A casual twitch of steel near your thigh, like a conductor cueing his favorite part of the symphony. You slip your arms beneath your knees and fold yourself in half, knees pulled tight to your chest, pussy on full display. It’s the same vulnerable, humiliating pose he had you in when his mouth devoured you like he was starved. You feel it again now—the way he looks at you like you’re prey that laid itself down willingly. His smirk is slow. Dangerous. He leans in, eyes glued to your flushed, glistening cunt. He watches your walls flutter helplessly around nothing. Watches the way your body gives you away.

“Such an obedient baby,” he murmurs, voice almost affectionate—if affection sounded like obsession. Under his breath, half-laughing: “Wanna marry you as soon as I can.” You don’t even have time to process that before he leans down and spits straight onto your pussy. The wet smack of it against your clit makes you jolt, walls clenching tight in reflex. The warmth of his spit slides between your folds, mixing with your slick, and you tremble as the air hits you again. He stands tall, towering over you now, still stroking himself. His cock is flushed, glistening, so thick. He lines himself up. The fat tip presses against your soaked entrance.

You squeeze your eyes shut, breath locking in your lungs as you brace for the stretch—the pain, the fullness, the way he never starts gentle. Above you, you can hear his breathing deepen.

“Open your eyes and look at me.” His voice is hoarse—low, but not threatening anymore, not like before. You blink through the haze of pain and arousal, eyes fluttering open slow. And there he is, towering over you, framed by moonlight and trees and shadow. But he’s not looking at your body. Not this time.

He’s looking at you. Not with hunger, not with lust. But with love. A kind so raw and unfiltered it punches the air from your lungs.

Your heart slams against your ribs as you stare up at him, lips parted, trembling, unsure if what you’re seeing is real. That gentle reverence on his face. The near-pain in his eyes. His expression is cracked wide open—so vulnerable it disarms you. He rubs the tip of his cock against your clit again, slow and deliberate, and your body arches instinctively as a moan rips from your throat. “Don’t look away,” he says, quieter now, nearly a whisper. “Please look at me.”

It’s not a command. It’s a plea. Desperate, soft, honest.

So you do. You hold his gaze even as you feel him press forward—feel the thick head of his cock begin to stretch you open inch by inch. Your breath stops. He moans—deep, guttural—as your heat envelops him, the wet, pulsing grip of your pussy already tightening around him like your body wants him deeper.

But for you—it hurts.

A sharp, searing pain splits through you and you cry out, head tossing back against the stone. Your fingers tremble as they dig into your own thighs. “Please stop!” you sob, eyes glassy. “It hurts so bad…” And he stops. Instantly. His expression twists into something broken—some mix of guilt, panic, and fierce protectiveness. He doesn’t pull out, but he freezes, letting you adjust, breathing hard like he’s punishing himself for even causing you a second of pain.

He could chase you. Scare you. Mark you. But this?

This was different.

Hurting you like this, hearing your voice crack, seeing tears in your eyes—he couldn’t bear it. “Shh,” he murmurs, leaning down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. His hand cradles your face, wiping a tear away with his thumb. “It’ll feel good soon… just trust me.” And then he kisses you. Slow and tender, like a man trying to pour an apology into your mouth. You taste his breath, his sweat, his promise. His lips linger over yours, devouring them not with hunger—but with worship. And just as your body begins to melt into him, you feel the cold press of the knife tracing lightly along the side of your arm. Not cutting. Not threatening. Just there. A reminder.

A shiver runs down your spine. His hips roll again, deeper this time—but slower, testing, watching. Feeling the way your body shifts from pain to pleasure, the way your pussy starts fluttering around him, wet and warm and aching for more. Your moans rise, sweet and breathless, filling the dark air like music. He drops the knife and lets it clatter beside you, forgotten. His hands seize your hips, grip firm, anchoring you to the stone.

Then he starts to move—thrusting into you, in and out, slow at first but growing faster with each breathless cry that slips from your mouth. The forest echoes with the rhythm of his body pounding into yours, with the slap of skin against skin, the wet, obscene sounds of your pussy welcoming him back in again and again. Your moans mix with his groans, breath ragged and desperate. One hand crawls up your body, fingers finding your breast and squeezing hard, making you whine. “Fucking perfect,” he growls against your throat. “Tight little pussy...fuck—made for me.” You nod without thinking, without shame. Because it’s true.

You were made for this. For him.

“You feel so fucking good, baby—ugh,” he groans, voice cracking under the weight of how tight your pussy is wrapped around him. His thrusts turn frantic, sloppy with need, hips snapping into yours as he fucks you deeper, harder, rougher. “Wanna bury my fucking babies in you,” he growls into your mouth, lips brushing yours as his words spill over your tongue. Your walls clench down on him at that. Hard.

Your body betrays you—moaning, spasming, throbbing as your pussy grips his cock tighter like it wants what he’s threatening. Like it likes the idea of being ruined, owned, filled. “You hear that?” he pants, sweat dripping down his temples. “Your greedy little cunt doesn’t wanna let me go—already in love with my thick fucking cock, huh?” You can’t answer. Can’t even think. All you can do is whine—pathetic, broken little sounds pouring from your lips between sharp gasps and stuttering breaths. Your thighs are trembling. Your back arches high off the stone as he pounds into you, his cock dragging perfectly against every sensitive nerve inside you.

And then—fuck—

His thumb presses against your clit. Rubbing fast, tight circles with precision only a man obsessed could master. The sensation hits you like lightning. Your body jerks. Your voice splits into another cry as your core tightens up like it’s ready to snap. He sees your hands clawing at the air—desperate, directionless, searching for something to hold onto. Anything. Toji leans down until his chest is flush with yours, forcing you to feel the heat of his sweat-slicked body, the strength in every inch of him. His mouth finds your ear as his back arches above you, and he hisses through his teeth the second your nails dig into his shoulders.

The second they scratch.

Deep.

Hard.

“You marking me now, baby?” he grunts, voice half-mad with pleasure. “Ugh—fuck—you love me that much, huh? Gonna leave me all scratched up so they all know who fucks you like this?” You rake your nails down his back again—this time on purpose. And he loves it. His thrusts turn vicious, his cock plunging into you like he wants to ruin you for anyone else. His hand squeezes your thigh. The other grips your hip like a vice.

“Mine.” He hisses it against your jaw, voice shaking.

Toji leans down, sweat dripping from his temples onto your chest as his mouth latches onto your breast—sucking, biting, spitting. Sloppy. Wet. Animalistic. His tongue drags circles around your nipple before he lets it go with a loud, lewd pop, only to spit again between the valley of your tits. He smears it across your skin with his palm, like he wants to mark every inch of you. Then he licks—slow, vulgar—starting from your breast, dragging that filthy tongue all the way up your collarbone, over your throat, until it reaches your ear. His breath is hot, panting, broken. His cock still slams inside you with heavy, wet thrusts, but his fingers leave your clit and wrap tight around your throat. Not enough to choke. Just enough to make your body remember it’s his.

His lips graze your ear. “Your pussy’s made for me,” he breathes, almost reverent—almost. “We’re fucking meant for each other. Look at how good it’s takin’ me in. You hear that?” He thrusts deep again, and the filthy squelch of your soaked cunt gripping him echoes loud and clear through the trees. You moan shamelessly, toes curling, hips twitching—your body begging for more even as it trembles from the overstimulation. “I should record this,” he hisses, tightening his grip just a little, the possessive edge sharpening in his voice. “Wanna film this exact moment—your messy, fucked-out face, your tight little pussy dripping around me—and jerk off to it a hundred fucking times.”

His cock twitches inside you. He’s close.

You can feel it. He’s biting it back, fighting it, jaw clenched, hips slowing—not because he’s tired, but because he wants to savor you. Stretch every second of this moment out until it’s burned into his brain. Until your body is seared into him. But then—suddenly—he pulls out. You gasp, a broken noise of protest leaving your lips as your cunt clenches on nothing. A thick, wet string of arousal stretches from your aching pussy to the fat head of his cock, pulsing and shiny, still leaking with pre cum.

He watches it.

Obsessed. Breathing hard.

And when he looks back at your face, he looks feral.

"Get up. Turn around,” he pants roughly, jerking his cock in tight, slick strokes as he watches you move. “Use the tree behind you—lean on it.” You obey fast—body trembling, legs weak, but your instincts kicking in before your brain can catch up. You stagger up, pressing your palms flat against the rough bark, your back arched, ass exposed to him. He gets behind you, climbing up onto the cold stone again so his knees are flush with yours—his chest brushing your back. And then he leans in, slowly, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

You feel him inhale deeply—a loud, guttural groan vibrating out of his throat. “Fuck,” he mutters. “How do you smell this fucking sweet out here? In the middle of this cold, dirty forest? Hnh—smell like something I could ruin and eat forever.” You let out a soft, high-pitched whine when his cock, hot and hard and heavy, slides between your ass cheeks—grinding up and down, leaving a trail of pre smeared between them. You’re already soaking, aching, your thighs trembling from the anticipation.

And then—

He spits right between your cheeks—hot and wet—and it rolls down slowly, trailing over your twitching hole and slipping down to your pussy. The glide of it against your sensitive folds makes you cry out loud, your hips jerking. He smirks. “Sensitive little thing.” His hand comes up to wrap around your throat again—tight enough to remind you who’s in control, not tight enough to stop the whimper that escapes you when his other hand cups your breast. Rough. Possessive. Like it belongs to him.

And then— He thrusts into you in one smooth, deep stroke. Both of you gasp. Your pussy clamps down on him immediately, body already too sensitive, too fucked-out, too overstimulated—but he doesn’t give you time to recover. His hips start slamming into you, heavy and brutal, his pace immediately unforgiving. The wet slap slap slap of his cock driving in and out of your soaked hole echoes through the trees. “That’s it,” he grits, his voice right against your ear. “That’s my fuckin’ girl. Look at you, takin’ it so well—*so fuckin’ good—shakin’ for me like a pretty little mess.”

You can’t even moan right. The air keeps getting knocked out of your lungs with every thrust. Your back is sticking to his chest, his abs flexing hard against your spine, one hand choking you gently while the other pinches and rolls your nipple. You’re overstimulated, aching, legs barely holding you up—but he’s holding you up. He’s everywhere. All over you. “You love this, huh?” he growls, slamming into you harder. "I bet you love gettin’ used like this, getting fucked stupid in the middle of nowhere. My cock’s the only thing keeping you sane.” You can’t even argue. Because he’s right. Your whole body’s shaking like a leaf and he fucking loves it.

Toji’s eyes drop to your ass, hypnotized by the way it bounces with every brutal thrust—how it ripples and recoils when his hips slam against you, the wet smack of flesh-on-flesh ringing out again and again. His cock throbs just watching the recoil, the tight squeeze of your pussy sucking him in deeper each time like it never wants to let go. “Ohh fuck,” he moans low, filthy and reverent, his voice brushing hot against your ear. “What a view—I love your ass so fuckin' much.” The soundscape is nothing but moans and obscene slaps, your breathy cries mixing with his feral grunts, echoing lewdly through the silent, moonlit forest. It’s pornographic, raw, primal—and you love it. You’re soaked, stretched wide, skin burning from the friction and the cold, but all you feel is him.

Then—his hand on your throat tightens slightly, angling your head. “Look at me,” he growls, and you do—just in time for him to crash his lips onto yours, messy and hungry and fucking desperate. His tongue licks into your mouth like he’s trying to taste every part of your soul, his hips never stopping, not for a second. You gasp and pant into the kiss, overstimulated and floating. “I’m gonna cum—” you moan brokenly, clinging to his wrist, hips trembling from the second orgasm barreling up too fast. His lips curl wickedly against yours. “Cum, baby,” he groans. “Cum on my cock. Milk it dry. You’re so fuckin’ tight—so wet—I wanna feel you squeeze every drop out of me.” Your eyes roll back at his words, toes curling, every muscle tensing. Then his hand slides from your breast down between your legs, fingers circling in on your clit like he knows your body better than you do. He rubs it—fast, relentless, with perfect pressure—and that’s all it takes.

You fall apart.

You cum hard, clenching and spasming around his cock as your whole body jerks and twitches. You drop your head to his shoulder, crying out into his skin, breath shattering from the intensity. The orgasm rips through you like a tidal wave—blinding, overwhelming, dizzying—and Toji doesn’t stop. He’s still fucking you through it, whispering filth against your lips, kissing your jaw, murmuring in your ear like a man drunk on you:

“That’s it, baby...fuck, just like that...you’re perfect—made for me, fuckin’ made to take my cock like this, every damn drop, every inch. You’re mine, yeah? Say it. Say you’re mine while you cum all over me.”

“You look so fucking pretty getting ruined by me,” he growls against your skin, voice low, strained. His cock is buried deep, your slick coating his shaft, your body trembling from overstimulation and fear. “I’m already obsessed… your pussy, your scent—just you.”

He’s gripping your throat like a collar, keeping you still as he watches you fall apart for him, again and again. “Just like that… Such a good girl.” Then you hear it—the metallic clink. You gasp, chest rising. He picked the knife back up. Before you can move, the cold steel touches your skin. He drags the tip slowly down your spine, grazing along bone and muscle until it rests at the top of your ass. Your whole body stiffens.

His hand is gone from your clit, but the other remains tight at your neck. You’re frozen. Breath stuck in your throat. You forgot about the knife. You could’ve taken it. Stabbed him. Escaped. But you didn’t.

You were too busy moaning for him. Too lost in the way he felt inside you. Too busy chasing another high. “What a fucking shame,” he murmurs darkly, like he read your thoughts. “Wanna carve my name into you with this knife. Right here.” He drags the tip down, circling just above the curve of your ass. “So no one ever touches you. No one dares.” He presses in—not enough to cut, but enough to make you shake. Enough to make you remember that you’re his. That you let this happen

That you want it to happen again.

“Fuck— I’m gonna cum again,” he whines, voice cracked and desperate as his pace starts to falter, thrusts turning rougher, sloppier, needier. His cock twitches inside you, coated in both your slick and spit, dragging wet, lewd strings between your swollen pussy and his shaft with every brutal thrust. He looks down, eyes wide with hunger at the filthy mess—your juices and his spit clinging in sticky webs that connect you both. “Look at this,” he groans, “so fucking wet for me. Can’t believe this pussy is real.”

He’s pussy-drunk, completely unraveling. “Gonna cum deep inside you,” he growls, rambling without restraint, hips stuttering. “Gonna fuckin’ knock you up—watch those pretty tits swell, dripping milk while you ride my cock like a good little wife.” You feel his cock swell, pulse, and then—he lets go. A loud moan tears from his throat as he buries himself to the hilt, and you feel it: the hot rush of his cum flooding you, thick and endless, coating your walls with every twitch and grind of his hips. Your breath catches in your throat, a soft gasp slipping out as your body clenches around him again, instinctively milking every last drop.

He stays inside you for a long moment—shaking, panting, face buried against the back of your neck. Eventually, he pulls out, and the thick trail of cum stretches between your hole and his cock, dripping slowly down your thighs. He watches it like it’s art. Like it’s sacred. Then—soft kisses. Open-mouthed, messy little pecks dropped onto your shoulder, your neck, the back of your jaw. You collapse backward against him with a shuddering sigh, boneless and ruined, letting your head fall on his chest. Toji chuckles against your skin, wrapping both arms around your hot, used body like he’s keeping you.

“I’ll bring a gun next time, baby. Just for you,” he murmurs, possessive and sweet, like it’s a romantic promise. His nose nuzzles into your hair. He presses one more kiss to your damp temple. “My sweet little pretty baby...” His voice lowers to something dark, reverent. “I’m gonna marry you. Gonna cage you up so tight no one will ever see you again.”

And somehow—you believe him.

And worse—you want it.

Your body slumps against his chest, all breathless heat and raw sensitivity. Every inch of you aches—thighs trembling, lips swollen, skin flushed and smeared with sweat and spit and cum—but Toji doesn’t move. Not right away. He just holds you.

His strong arms wrap around your waist from behind, chest still heaving, but his touch now slow. Careful. One of his hands finds yours, guiding your fingers between his as he laces them tight. The other curls protectively over your stomach like he’s already cradling something precious inside you. “Fuck,” he mutters, forehead pressing against your shoulder, damp hair tickling your skin. “You feel so good...too good. I ain’t ever lettin’ you go now.”

You don’t speak. You can’t. Your voice is somewhere far away, buried under exhaustion and bliss and the echo of his words. But you lean into him, head tipping back onto his shoulder. And that’s enough. “Hurts?” he asks softly, voice nothing like the low, feral growls from minutes ago. This one’s quieter. Human. Guilty, almost.

You nod a little. Your thighs twitch when the wind brushes over your soaked skin. Toji shifts behind you, pulling you gently down onto his lap, cradling you in his arms like he’s afraid you’ll break. He slips off the black shirt he’d tossed aside earlier and carefully wipes between your legs with it—slow, reverent, murmuring apologies when you wince. “It's alright, I got you,” he whispers, planting soft kisses across your shoulder. “Did so good for me. My sweet girl.” Your eyes flutter shut as he cleans you with the patience of someone who wants to stay here forever. His breath stays warm against your cheek. He tucks your hair back. Rubs circles into your lower back with the pad of his thumb. You expect him to say something filthy again—but he doesn’t.

Instead, his voice is quiet. Strained, but soft. “I swear I never thought I’d find someone like you,” he murmurs, kissing your temple. “Not after all the shit I’ve done. But now you’re here. And I’m not letting you disappear, baby. Ever.” You curl into his chest, too tired to think, but warm. So warm. Not from the afterglow—but from the strange tenderness behind his rough voice. Like somewhere between the hunger and the obsession, he actually means it. He tugs you closer. “I’ll build you a house right here in this forest if that’s what it takes. Just us. I’ll protect you. Keep you safe. You’ll never need anyone else again.”

Your lashes flutter. You don’t respond.

But you don’t pull away.

And Toji just smiles. He presses one last kiss to your forehead and holds you tight in the still silence of the trees, his heartbeat thundering slow and steady behind your ear.

Like home.

#jjk #toji fushiguro #jjk smut #toji smut #jjk toji #toji x you #toji x reader #possessive #yandere

71 notes · View notes

waffless-simp-blog · 2 days ago

Text

MDNI, NSFW; Smut ahead

Who would not like it when this handsome, spiky hair guy, slips through your hole so slow, so gentle.

Megumi groans as he can't help it but to keep going in. "Fuck, baby...too tight, relax-" He clutch the pillow sheet, moaning beside your ear, knowing damn well he can't take your pretty pussy and ruin it, you're too fragile to his eyes.

His breath so heavily, kissing your cheeks multiple times, trying to not thrust immediately and hurting his beautiful angel. He pulled away to look at his angel, tears are threatened to spill over her eyes.

Oh, it's our first time

Megumi snickered before he captured your lips, passionate and full of hunger. He slipped his tongue inside to taste yours, pulling away afterwards when he fully entered your pretty, tiny pussy.

Both of you moan at the same time, relief that he entered at last. Megumi slowly thrust, burying his face in the crooked of your neck to silence his moan. Slow turns into a steady pace, Megumi can't hold it back as he changes his pace to go faster, desperately to hear his angel pretty moan.

He takes your squishy thigh and wraps it around his small waist before he leans down to kiss you, swallowing all your moan.

Fucking hell he could do this everytime he felt the need to fuck his pretty angel.

#megumi smut #megumi fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu megumi #megumi #megumi x reader

668 notes · View notes

waffless-simp-blog · 2 days ago

Text

Morning Devotion

✦ One-Shot

Reader x Suguru Geto | 18+ MDNI

cw: soft dom, aftercare, slightly possessive but respectful, emotional intimacy, lots of foreplay, passionate smut, romance, attentive/dom Geto, worship, oral,creampie, slow build but explosive payoff, shower sex, reader worship, hair kink, praise

⸻

You’d been teasing Suguru all evening—laughing a little too sweetly, leaning in a little too close. The silk of your dress clung to your curves just right, and your eyes were nothing but mischief.

But he wasn’t rushing anything.

That wasn’t his style.

Dinner was candlelit. His fingers brushed yours as he refilled your glass. The way he looked at you—like you were sacred—sent heat between your legs long before his mouth ever touched you.

“You’re playing with fire,” he murmured, voice velvet smooth, as he stood behind your chair and brushed your hair aside to kiss your neck. Slow. Gentle. Deliberate.

“I like the way it burns,” you whispered.

He chuckled low. “Then let me show you what happens when fire is loved, not feared.”

He carried you to his bedroom, one arm beneath your knees, the other wrapped securely around your back. You gasped when he laid you on the bed—soft sheets, warm lighting, his scent all around.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said softly, brushing his fingers along your jaw. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

Your body arched up, aching for his touch. “Then show me.”

And he did.

He took his time undressing you. Not ripping—peeling. Like unwrapping a gift he’d waited too long to touch. Kissing every inch of revealed skin. Murmuring praise against your breasts, your thighs, your stomach.

“Look at you,” he whispered as he spread your legs. “So wet for me already.”

You shivered when his mouth kissed the inside of your knee. Then higher. And higher.

“Suguru…”

He looked up from between your thighs, dark eyes smoldering with lust—and something far more dangerous: devotion.

“I want you to remember this,” he said. “Every time someone else touches you. That no one will ever love your pleasure the way I do.”

Then he buried his mouth in your pussy.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t teasing.

It was worship.

His tongue licked and circled your clit with maddening precision, slow and rhythmic, while his fingers spread your lips wider for him to taste. He moaned into you like he was the one receiving pleasure. Sucked your clit with perfect pressure, pausing only to whisper, “You taste divine.”

You were panting in minutes. Squirming under him. Hands gripping his hair, your legs shaking.

“I’m—I’m gonna—”

“Yes, sweetheart,” he groaned, locking eyes with you. “Cum for me. I want it.”

When your orgasm hit, it wasn’t just physical—it was emotional. A flood of euphoria. You cried out his name as your back arched and your thighs clenched around his head.

He didn’t stop.

He kept licking you through it, until you were trembling and gasping, until you begged him to stop—and even then, he kissed your thighs with reverence.

When he finally rose, his lips were glistening with you. He smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“I could die between your legs and be satisfied.”

You pulled him into a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips, tugging at his shirt. “Please— I need you inside me. Now.”

He undressed slowly. Revealed toned muscles and that damned confident smirk. His cock was thick, hard, and gorgeous—and he watched your face as he stroked it, teasing the head between your folds.

“You sure you’re ready for this, baby?”

“Please,” you whispered. “I need all of you.”

He leaned down, his forehead resting against yours. “Then take me.“

And he slid in—slowly, letting you feel everything. Stretching you, filling you, until he bottomed out with a groan.

You moaned in sync.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he rasped. “So tight. So soft.”

He rocked into you in deep, sensual thrusts—none of the earlier teasing. No games. Just passion.

Every thrust pressed against the sweetest spot inside you. His hand slipped under your back, tilting your hips just right. His other hand held yours, fingers laced together like a promise.

“You feel that?” he whispered against your lips. “That’s what it means to be loved.”

He kissed you as he moved—slow, deep, intimate. Moaning your name between kisses. Whispering praise in your ear.

“I love the way you look when you fall apart.”

“I love the way you say my name.”

“I want you. All of you. Over and over.”

You came again with his name on your lips, crying out as your nails scratched down his back.

He didn’t let go. Didn’t stop holding you. Never stopped looking at you like you were everything.

When he came, it was deep inside—slow, shaking, as he buried himself in you fully, kissing you through every wave of his release.

He stayed inside you, holding you afterward. Fingers brushing your cheek. Whispering soft things in your ear.

“You’re mine,” he murmured. “Not just your body. All of you.”

You smiled, exhausted and full. “Then you better take care of me.”

His lips brushed your temple.

“Always.”

The morning sun filtered in softly through the linen curtains, painting golden light across Suguru’s bare shoulders.

You stretched beside him, deliciously sore, the sheets tangled around both your bodies. His hand still rested possessively on your hip, even in sleep—like his body refused to let you go.

But now, it was your turn.

Your fingers traced his collarbone, slowly, lovingly. His chest rose and fell with steady breaths. His hair had fallen from its bun during the night, loose strands brushing his cheek, and he looked… young. Peaceful. Vulnerable in the way only sleep can allow.

You leaned in, kissing his jaw. Soft. Barely there.

He shifted slightly, but didn’t stir.

You smiled.

Perfect.

You slid the sheets down, revealing the expanse of his chest. He was all warmth and muscle and softness, and you pressed your lips to every inch as you moved downward—down his throat, his sternum, the gentle curve just beneath his ribs.

By the time you reached his lower stomach, he let out a soft, sleepy breath.

“Mmh… babe?”

“Mmm?” you hummed against his skin, lips trailing lower.

His eyes fluttered open, sleep-heavy and dazed. “What are you—?”

“Shh,” you whispered, crawling over him, straddling his hips. “My turn.”

That got his attention. His hands came up, instinctively trying to guide your movements—but you pinned them to the pillow with a smirk.

“I’m in charge now, Suguru.”

His brow arched in challenge, but his lips parted as you slowly rolled your hips over him, your bare heat dragging along his hardening cock.

“Oh… fuck.”

You leaned down and kissed him—slow, possessive, deep. He groaned into your mouth, already growing harder under you.

“I want to make you feel good,” you whispered, kissing down his neck again. “You did everything for me last night.”

He chuckled breathlessly. “I wanted to—”

“I want to, too.”

You reached between you, stroked him gently, watching his eyes flutter shut as you teased the tip through your folds—already wet and ready for him.

When you finally sank down on him, he moaned your name.

You held still, letting him feel every inch of you wrapped around him.

“You’re always so deep,” you whispered, moving your hips in slow circles. “So thick. So perfect.”

His hands flexed beneath yours, still pinned, his mouth slack as he looked up at you.

“You’re—fuck, baby, you’re amazing—”

You leaned down again, whispering against his lips: “Don’t move. Let me do this.”

And he did.

You rode him slowly, sensually—your hips grinding down, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you. His breathing got ragged, his muscles tense under your control, his eyes locked on your body as you moved above him like a dream.

“Look at you,” you murmured, dragging your nails lightly down his chest. “So strong. So obedient.”

That made him groan, hips bucking up—just once.

You grinned. “Easy, baby. You’ll get to cum. But not before I’ve had enough.”

He laughed breathlessly. “You’re dangerous like this.”

You cupped his face, kissing him softer now. “You love it.”

“I do.”

You lost yourself in the rhythm—the delicious stretch, the wet sound of your bodies moving, the way he watched you like you were divine.

His hands finally broke free from your grip, but only to hold your waist as you rode him harder. He didn’t try to take control. He let you have him—all of him.

“Cum for me, baby” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. “I want to feel you melt.”

His groan was pure sin. His fingers dug into your hips as he surged up into you, thrusting once, twice, before spilling deep inside.

You came right after—clenching around him, gasping against his mouth, shivering with the shared pleasure that stole every breath.

You collapsed against him, both of you panting, sweaty, tangled.

And when he kissed your forehead, he whispered:

“Next time, I’m tying you up.”

You smiled against his throat.

“I’m counting on it.”

You barely had time to come down from the high before Suguru was kissing you again—deeper, hungrier, like he hadn’t even started.

“Come shower with me,” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear.

“Still not done with you,” he rasped against your mouth, already guiding you toward the bathroom with slow, possessive hands.

You bumped into the doorframe mid-kiss, giggling breathlessly, and he only grinned—sliding his arm beneath your thighs, lifting you up like you weighed nothing, and carrying you straight into the steam

You’re in his arms. Wet skin. Warm steam. And his long, gorgeous hair dripping down his back like a dark halo as he touches you like you’re divine.

The bathroom was dim, lit only by golden lamplight slipping in from the hall.

Steam rolled from the glass-walled shower as Suguru pulled you inside, his hand warm and firm around your wrist. Water spilled over his bare shoulders—rivulets catching in the valleys of his sculpted chest, dripping from the ends of his ink-black hair.

He looked like a painting.

Hair wet and loose. Eyes heavy. Body strong and golden and breathtaking beneath the stream.

And he was looking at you like you were everything.

“Come here,” he murmured, voice lower than before. Thicker. The kind of voice that curled low in your belly and made your knees weak.

You stepped into him, bare and damp and open.

He met you there.

Kissed you like it was the only language left. Lips slow. Mouth warm. Hands dragging up your sides, spreading heat through your chest as he pressed you back against the cool tile.

His mouth moved to your neck. You tilted your head, gave him space, let yourself melt as his tongue tasted your pulse—slow, sure, worshipful.

“I didn’t get enough of you,” he whispered between kisses. “Not even close.”

You smiled breathlessly against his collarbone. “You’re insatiable.”

“Only for you.”

His fingers found your hips, dragged slowly across your slick skin, water dancing between your bodies as he sank to his knees.

Your breath hitched. “Suguru—”

“Shh,” he whispered, nuzzling the inside of your thigh, voice reverent. “Let me take care of you again.”

His hair clung to his neck, soaked and heavy, strands trailing over his shoulders as he kissed your skin like it was a vow.

“My god, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured.

Then he buried his mouth between your legs.

Heat exploded up your spine.

You gasped, your back arching as his tongue slid against your clit—firm, slow, perfect. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you open, keeping you steady as he devoured you like you were sacred.

The water beat against your skin.

Your moans echoed in the tiled silence.

And Suguru… he was groaning softly into you, like your taste drove him crazy. Like he was the one unraveling.

When you looked down through the haze of heat, you saw his wet hair clinging to his jaw, eyes half-lidded and starved, eating you out like he had all the time in the world.

And when you came on his tongue—he moaned with you.

He rose slowly, his mouth glistening, kissing your stomach, your ribs, your collarbone—climbing back up your body with devotion.

When your eyes met his again, he looked wrecked.

Hungry.

Gone for you.

“Turn around,” he whispered, guiding your hips gently. “Hands on the wall.”

You obeyed.

Not because he demanded.

But because Suguru Geto asked like he already owned your soul—and made you want to give it.

He pressed close behind you, his cock hard against your ass, and when he lined himself up—he didn’t slam in.

He slid in.

Slow. Deep. Inch by delicious inch, his breath hitching against your neck as he sank into your soaked, still-sensitive heat.

You moaned.

He groaned—long and low and filthy.

“Fucking—perfect,” he breathed.

His hands roamed your stomach, your breasts, your waist. Touching everything. Holding you still as he began to move.

Long strokes.

Deep rhythm.

Grinding against the spot that made you whimper into the tile.

The water kept running, pouring over your joined bodies, washing away everything except this—the way he moved inside you like he knew every nerve.

“Suguru—fuck—”

“You’re doing so good,” he panted, lips brushing your shoulder. “Taking me so well. Let me hear you, baby.”

You moaned louder.

He picked up the pace, thrusts sharper, the sound of your bodies colliding swallowed by rushing water and your gasps.

And still—

He whispered praise.

“You feel like heaven.”

“Let go for me, sweetheart.”

When you came a second time, your legs shook.

He wrapped one arm around your waist, holding you steady, fucking you through it with a groan that shook your bones.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured.

“I’m gonna—Suguru—”

“I know, I know—cum for me again, just like that—”

You fell apart in his arms.

And only then did he let go.

He moaned your name as he came deep inside you, hips pressed tight to yours, his body trembling, hair falling forward over your shoulder, soaked strands clinging to your skin.

For a long moment, he just held you—his chest to your back, arms around your waist, lips against your temple.

“I love you,” he whispered, breath hot and real and beautiful in your ear. “I don’t think you get it. I love you so fucking much, it scares me.”

You turned, kissed him like it was all you had.

“I get it,” you whispered. “I do.”

You washed each other after.

He lathered shampoo into your hair with gentle fingers, kissed the tip of your nose when you closed your eyes.

You helped comb through his thick black strands—fingers careful, movements tender, and he watched you like you were something priceless in his hands.

When you finally stepped out, he wrapped you in a towel and kissed your shoulder.

“Let’s go to bed,” he murmured, smiling softly.

“Let me hold you ‘til next morning.”

໒꒰ྀི ˶• ༝ •˶ ꒱ྀི১ hope you like it!!

be sure to check out my other stuff too <3

#jjk #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #smut #suguru geto #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru #geto smut #geto x reader #jjk geto #jujutsu geto #geto x you #getou suguru x reader #jjk suguru #suguru geto smut #geto x y/n #suguru x you

100 notes · View notes

waffless-simp-blog · 2 days ago

Text

Dripping for Me

✦ One-Shot

Reader x Suguru Geto | 18+ MDNI

cw: nsfw, handjob, soft dom reader, praise, licking cum, hand over mouth, size kink vibes, wet hair/post-shower, emotional intimacy, aftercare.

⸻

It’s late. The rain is soft against the windows, golden lamps glowing low in Suguru’s apartment. You let yourself in with the spare key he pretends to forget you have.

You toss your shoes off, quietly. The sound of the shower running hums from down the hall — he’s home. You smirk.

You slip quietly into his bedroom, bag still over your shoulder, and swap your day clothes for that soft little lounge set — silky, short, and so dangerously cute — the kind of thing you know will drive him insane without even trying.

You twist your hair into a lazy half-bun, strands falling around your face like you didn’t even try (but you did).

You curl into his couch, looking criminally comfortable. Remote in hand. One leg bent, the other stretched out. You know exactly what you look like.

The shower shuts off.

And then — footsteps. Bare, slow. A quiet rustle of a towel.

Then he appears.

You swear time slows the moment he walks out of the bathroom.

Hair down, still dripping — long black strands clinging to his neck, forehead and shoulders like silk ribbons.

His skin is flushed from the heat of the shower, glowing golden under the soft apartment lights, droplets of water sliding down the hard lines of his chest and disappearing beneath the towel slung low on his hips.

He looks like some untouchable deity, carved from want and war, but tonight… he’s just him.

Soft. Bare. And so goddamn beautiful it hurts.

He stops in his tracks when he sees you.

“Oh,” he murmurs, voice deep and just a little surprised. “Didn’t hear you come in.”

You glance at him, feigning casual. “You really should lock your door.”

His gaze lingers. Slow. Lingering. From your bare thighs up to the way your top is threatening to slide off one shoulder.

“I guess it’s a good thing you have the spare key, then.”

That smirk. Dangerous.

He leans on the doorframe, arms crossed — which only makes his biceps flex and the towel shift a little lower.

You raise a brow. “Staring’s rude.”

He chuckles, low and dark. “You dress like that on my couch, in my house, and think I’m not gonna stare?”

You shrug, biting your lip. “I didn’t know I needed permission.”

Suguru’s eyes darken.

“You never did.”

And then he’s moving — slow, deliberate. The towel’s slipping, hips glinting with water, muscles tense like he’s holding back. But his eyes are locked on you like a predator finally home to feast.

He stops just in front of the couch, looming.

“Stand up,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, but there’s no room for argument.

You blink. “Why?”

He smirks — and it’s deadly.

“So I can take that off of you before I destroy it.”

You stand up, slow and deliberate.

His eyes drag over you the second you stand — slow, heavy with heat — and he lets out a quiet breath, voice thick with something unspoken.

“You look…” he murmurs, lips quirking, “…unfair in that.”

You reach for his hand, playful, but he catches yours first — fingers threading through yours as he pulls you in with a gentle spin, eyes never leaving your body.

“Had to see the whole view.”

Suguru watches every movement — the shift of your hips, the way your shorts ride up, the way your cami clings tighter as you stretch. His breath hitches like instinct.

But when he reaches for you — large, veined hand already rising to tug that silky strap off your shoulder —

you step back.

Just an inch.

He blinks. Confused.

“Don’t,” you whisper, voice soft — but sure. “Not yet.”

A flicker of surprise crosses his face. Not rejection — something else. You see it then, under the wet hair and that cocky smirk he wears like armor: he’s tired. The kind of tired that sinks into the bones.

He’s been fighting something — or someone — again. You know that look.

And you know what he needs.

You slide your hands up his chest — wet, warm skin under your fingertips — and lean in. No teasing. No games.

Just lips to lips.

And it hits.

Your kiss tastes like want. Like need that’s been held back all week. Like you missed him in ways that have nothing to do with distance.

He melts into it almost instantly — his mouth opening to you, hands hovering at your waist, unsure. Like he doesn’t trust himself not to devour you if he lets go.

You pull back, just enough to speak, voice low against his lips.

“Let me take care of you tonight, Suguru.”

And that does it.

His head drops to your shoulder — just for a moment. He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for hours. Maybe days.

Then he nods, barely. Almost vulnerable.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Yeah, baby. I’d like that.”

You lower yourself back onto the couch, slow and smooth like you’ve done this in a dream a hundred times. The cushions hug your thighs as you spread your legs wide — unapologetically — and look up at him with a heat in your eyes that makes his breath catch.

Then you pat the space between them.

“Sit.”

One word. Soft, but commanding.

His eyes darken instantly. That lazy smirk twitches, but he obeys — silent, heavy steps until he’s lowering himself between your thighs, towel still barely clinging to his hips. His back settles against your chest. Big. Warm. So much muscle you have to wrap your legs around his waist to get comfortable.

Your hands come up without hesitation.

First to his temples. Gentle pressure in slow circles. You feel the tension start to melt under your touch.

Then into his hair — long, wet, silky strands that slip through your fingers like water. You rake your nails lightly over his scalp and he groans, low and quiet, like he didn’t mean for it to escape.

“That good?” you whisper against his ear.

He nods. Barely. „Mhm.“ he humms.

You feel him sink back a little more into your body, letting you take the lead.

Then your hands trail down — from the nape of his neck to his collarbone, nails grazing, barely-there touches — until you reach his chest. Wide, scarred, solid. You press your palms into him, fingertips and nails teasing his nipples as you slide lower.

You feel it the moment your hands dip past his ribs, tracing the lines of his abs, down to the trail that leads below the towel.

His breath hitches.

“Fuck…” he mutters, more to himself than you.

You smile against his ear.

“Shhh. Let me do this.”

Your hands hover at the edge of the towel now, teasing. One more inch…

Your hand slides lower, under the towel, and wraps around him — warm, thick, already heavy with need. He gasps. Not loud. But enough.

“Fuck—Baby—”

Your grip is just enough to tease. A slow, gentle palm, stroking him like you have all night to make him come apart. No rush. Just control.

At the same time, your other hand glides up to his face.

First his cheek… then over his mouth.

Two fingers brush against his lips — he parts them instantly. You press just slightly, like you’re telling him, Shh… don’t speak.

He closes his eyes, breath hot against your skin as you slowly stroke him harder, tighter, but still slow. Still in control.

Then your mouth finds his jaw.

You drag your lips along it — hot, open-mouthed kisses, slow licks up his neck.

Your tongue teases just under his ear, and that’s when he lets out the first real moan.

It’s raw. Deep. Like the kind that rips through a man who never lets himself feel this good.

You glance up — and god, he looks ruined already.

Head tilted back onto your shoulder.

Frown lines deep in his brows.

Mouth parted, gasping.

Eyes fluttering shut, jaw clenched like he’s in pain from how good it feels.

“You feel so tense, baby,” you whisper against his skin. “Let go for me.”

He nods, but he’s trembling slightly now — not fear, not nerves. Just desperation being held back by a thread. The towel slips even lower, caught only by how your palm is working him now — slow, slick, perfect.

“You’re gonna come just from this, aren’t you?”

“From my hand… and a few kisses?”

His chest stutters. His hips twitch. He’s close.

Big hands grab your legs and before you can react he grips harder, desperate.

You’re sitting there — smaller, softer, wrapped around him like a silk ribbon.

He’s massive. Power carved into muscle. Built to fight, to destroy, to take. He could’ve flipped you beneath him at any second.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, Suguru Geto — the most feared sorcerer alive — is sitting between your legs, folded into your warmth, shaking in your arms like he’s never been touched this gently before. Like this is the only place he ever truly feels safe.

And you can feel it.

The way his head falls back against your shoulder, the weight of him letting go. His wet hair sticks to your chest, clinging in strands, his body slick and flushed from the heat of it all.

And your hand never stops.

Slow strokes down his thick length, the pads of your fingers teasing that sensitive underside with precision. Every time you squeeze, his stomach flinches. His thighs twitch.

He’s right there.

Your other hand stays over his mouth — just a little pressure, like a reminder: Be good. Stay quiet.

And he does.

His moans are muffled under your palm, but you feel every one of them. Every deep, guttural sound rumbles through his chest, his whole body trembling from the effort of holding it back.

His eyes are squeezed shut. Brows pulled together like he’s in pleasure-pain, the kind that unravels you.

“That’s it,” you whisper in his ear.

“You’re doing so well for me, babe.”

“Look at you… letting go like this. You needed this, didn’t you?”

“Needed me.”

He nods—desperate, frantic now. Your lips brush just under his ear again, licking your tounge along his veiny neck and his hair clings to your skin, damp and warm. And fuck, he smells so good — like clean soap, rain, and something earthy and dark that’s just him.

“Give it to me,” you murmur.

“Come for me, baby.”

That’s all it takes.

His whole body locks — a full-body clench as his abs tighten under your palm, muscles straining, hips jerking into your grip. He’s gone, thick moans trapped under your hand, spilling into your fingers and onto his own body as he finishes hard in your hand — hot and wet, breathless and wrecked.

He doesn’t say anything for a second. Just pants. His head slumps forward, his hair hiding his face, and you can feel the thump of his heartbeat through his back.

“Holy fuck…” he whispers hoarsely. “What are you doing to me?”

He finally moves — chest still rising hard, breath just starting to steady.

Suguru blinks like he’s trying to return to reality.

Still flushed. Still trembling slightly.

And then, like the gentleman he occasionally pretends to be, he reaches forward for a tissue from the table. Soft, post-orgasmic, a little dazed.

“Lemme—” he starts, nodding toward your hand, still coated in him.

But then you look at him.

And slowly… deliberately… you raise your hand to your mouth.

His whole body freezes.

Your tongue drags across your fingers, slow and unbothered — kitten-licks at first, and then deeper, savoring. Like you’re tasting the sweetest thing you’ve ever had.

He stares at you like you just cast a curse on him.

Eyes wide. Lips parted. Shocked, horny, satisfied, wrecked. All at once.

“God… damn,” he groans, voice raw — like it’s been punched out of him.

He watches, unable to move, as you lean forward and trail your tongue down his belly, to the mess still clinging just below his navel. You lick that up, too. Slow. Sweet.

Then you kiss right over his twitching stomach and murmur:

“No cleanup needed, babe.”

And that’s when something snaps in him.

His hand comes up fast, grabbing you gently — but firmly — at the back of your neck. He pulls you in like he might lose you if he waits another second.

The kiss is brutal and soft all at once. Messy. Desperate. Tongues and teeth and heat. He groans into your mouth like he’s starving, like he doesn’t care that he’s just come — he needs more, or maybe he just needs you.

But finally… finally… he slows.

Breathing hard. Foreheads touching. That stunned, blissed-out silence lingering like smoke between you.

He lets himself fall back into you, and this time, he really sinks.

Still damp from the shower, still warm, and so soft now. You guide him gently, and he rests his head between your thighs, long body curled up over the couch.

His arms wrap around your waist and pull you close. Not sexual — not anymore. Just closeness. Craving. Comfort.

His now damp hair fans across your skin. His breath fans over your stomach. And your fingers find his scalp again, slow strokes through his black strands.

He melts under it. Humming faintly, barely audible.

One hand slides down to your thigh, and he holds it — possessive, sleepy, safe. His thumb runs lazy circles against your skin.

“Didn’t know I needed that,” he mumbles.

You smile down at him, brushing a kiss to his damp forehead.

“That’s why I’m here.”

He presses his face deeper into your lap like a cat settling in. Relaxed. Owned.

You stay like that a while. Nothing but breathing. Skin on skin. Fingers in hair.

And then, quietly:

“Next time,” he murmurs, eyes still shut, “I’m not letting you stay in control like that.”

You chuckle, leaning down to whisper in his ear.

“We’ll see about that.”

໒꒰ྀི ˶• ༝ •˶ ꒱ྀི১ hope you like it!!

be sure to check out my other stuff too <3

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #smut #jjk fanfic #jjksmut #jjk fic #jjk fluff #jjk x you #spicy jjk #geto x y/n #geto x reader #geto x you #geto smut #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto smut #suguru x you #suguru geto #jjk geto

110 notes · View notes

waffless-simp-blog · 2 days ago

Text

good morning, gumi

featuring... megumi!

summary: you wake up a sleepy megumi with a surprise.

warnings: NSFW content; oral (m receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, somnophilia, characters are aged up

a/n: a good morning post for you all

the early light filters in through the blinds, casting a faint golden light across your sheets. it’s quiet, the kind of quiet that only exists before the world remembers to stir every morning. the air is still cool, but megumi radiates heat where he lay beside you.

he looks unfair like this. sleep-tousled, half-buried into the pillow, dark hair sticking out in soft waves. his shirt has ridden up, revealing a sliver of toned stomach and the sharp dip of his hipbone above the blanket.

one kiss wouldn’t wake him.

you lean in, lips brushing just under his jaw. something warm and familiar, soft. he doesn’t move as your lips move lower. down the column of his throat, over his collarbone. you drag your tongue lightly over a pulse point.

he lets out a low inhale, barely audible. you smile into his skin and do it again, slower this time. you suck lightly as your tongue traces a path along his skin. you shift your way downwards before pushing up his shirt inch by inch, bunching it up at his chest. exposing his lean muscle, smooth skin, and the soft v-line that disappears under the blanket.

“what are you doing?” he murmurs, voice completely wrecked with sleep. his eyes are still closed.

“waking you up.”

“this is not how normal people wake someone up,” he says. still, he lets out a content sigh when you kiss his abdomen.

“good thing i’m not normal then,” you whisper against his stomach, pressing an open-mouthed kiss just above the waistband of his boxers.

his hand twitches in the sheets, you feel it more than you see it. but he doesn’t stop you.

you shift lower, nudging the covers further down. he tenses when the air hits his skin.

“you’re playing a dangerous game,” he says, voice rougher now.

your lips hover right above his waistband. “then stop me.”

he opens his eyes, those eyes that always felt too steady, but now? they’re dark and dazed, heavy with something he wasn’t bothering to hide from you.

“i said stop me,” you whisper. you reach for the top of his waistband, gently tugging it down to free his now-hardened cock. “not just look at me.”

his fingers thread in your hair, slow and firm. “you just gonna tease me until i lose my patience?”

you smirk. “maybe.”

the weight of his hand in your hair said it all. not demanding, but still expectant. you can’t help but smile at the soft sound he makes when your lips wrap around him. he lets you gently suck on the tip for a while before his grip tightens in your hair.

you lift off of him. “take control baby.” you press a kiss to his tip. “you know you want to.”

he lets out a quiet groan before pushing your head down to where he needs you most. he slowly slips into your mouth and you let out a quiet moan when a salty flavor hits your tongue. he curses under his breath, hips gently lifting off the bed.

“don’t do that,” he growls out.

you let out another moan and his head falls back into the pillows. he breathes out your name as you take all of him into your mouth, letting his tip hit the back of your throat in the most delicious way. he guides you back up to the tip, then back down again to the base of him.

“so fucking good,” he says, his air breathy and light.

you hum softly in response, the vibration pulling a hiss from between his teeth. his hips jerk up slightly, instinctively, but he still holds back, like he’s savoring every second of this moment.

“fuck,” he mutters, voice gravelly and reverent all at once. “you have no idea what you do to me.”

you slowly pull off, tongue dragging along his length until only the tip remains between your lips. you glance up at him through your lashes, and the look on his face nearly makes you moan again. flushed, jaw tight, lips parted around shallow breaths. still half-lost in sleep, but fully undone beneath you.

his hand slips from your hair to your jaw, fingers tilting your chin up just slightly. there’s a flicker of something in his gaze. desire is there, yes, but something softer is in his eyes, like he’s trying to memorize you.

then suddenly he’s tugging you up, shifting with quiet urgency. you end up sprawled over him, your legs straddling his hips. his hands drag up and down your thighs. his cock presses against you, hot and slick and aching, but he doesn’t move just yet.

“want you,” he murmurs, the words brushing against your lips. “not just your mouth. i want all of you.”

the quiet sincerity of it steals the air from your lungs. you nod, breath catching as you grind down slightly, enough to make him groan, low and rough.

“then have me,” you whisper into his ear. you kiss it gently before adding, “i’m not wearing any panties.”

he lets out a growl-like noise at that. he reaches down, guiding himself to your entrance, and you both go still for a moment. just breathing, looking at each other.

then he pushes in. it’s slow as he fills you inch by aching inch. your fingers dig into his shoulders, forehead falling against his as your body stretches to accommodate him. you revel in the soft sound he makes as he sinks into you, your bodies moving like they already know each other, because they do.

he bottoms out with a shudder, forehead pressed to yours, breaths tangling between your mouths. neither of you move right away. his hand grips your hips, thighs trembling around him, your body clenching involuntarily as it adjusts to the stretch of him.

“shit,” he breathes out. “you feel… amazing.”

you kiss him, slow and deep, tongue brushing against his as you roll your hips experimentally. he moans into your mouth, not loud, but needy. something raw about it.

the sound sparks something in you and you move again, slow and deliberate. you feel every inch of him as he slides in and out. his hands trail up your sides, slipping beneath the hem of your shirt—his shirt—that you hadn’t bothered to take off. he pushes it up, exposing more of you to the cool morning air and his warm palms.

“take it off,” he says against your collarbone.

you sit up just enough to strip it over your head, tossing it somewhere off the bed carelessly. megumi’s eyes flick down your body, dark and focused like you’re something sacred to him. something he can worship.

“off,” you demand, tugging at the hem of his shirt. he sits up and slips it off him in one fluid motion, throwing it to join your shirt on the floor.

he sits up fully now, chest to chest, wrapping his arms around you as he thrusts up slow and deep. you cling to him, legs tightening around his waist, lips pressing to the curve of his neck as the rhythm builds. your moans melt into his skin, soft and shaky and desperate.

he says your name like a prayer, over and over, thrusting with each mutter, leaving you gasping for air.

“look at me,” he whispers, voice nearly broken.

you lift your head. his eyes are heavy with want, but also something so tender it nearly unravels you right then and there.

“you’re so beautiful like this,” he says, brushing a damp strand of hair from your face. “so fucking perfect.”

you kiss him again, messy and breathless, and he groans when you clench around him.

“i’m close,” you whisper against his lips.

“me too,” he pants out, tightening his grip on your hips. “don’t stop.”

you ride the wave with him, rocking together until your climax hits. you cry out his name, shaking, and he follows right after, holding you close as he spills into you with a soft groan.

you collapse against his chest, his heart pounding under your ear. he wraps both arms around you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. and you both stay there for a long time, tangled in sweat and breath.

“i could wake up like that every morning.” he traces lazy circles on your back.

you smile, eyes closed, body still trembling with the aftershocks. “don’t get greedy now, megumi.”

“too late,” he hums, half-asleep again already. he presses a kiss to your forehead. “good morning, baby.”

“good morning, gumi,” you mumble just before drifting back to sleep.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk x you #jjk x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro x you #megumi x reader #jjk megumi #fushiguro megumi #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro smut

200 notes · View notes

waffless-simp-blog · 3 days ago

Text

the black t-shirt

featuring... megumi!

summary: megumi wears your favorite shirt to movie night and you can't help but notice.

warnings: NSFW content (all characters are aged up)

a/n: extra post because this is a self-indulgent fic i wrote all because i love megumi in his damn big black shirt. like... LOOK AT HIM!!!!

most girls like their boyfriends in a fitted t-shirt or shirtless, something that showed off their form.

and while you enjoy those things too, what you love most of all is when megumi wears his large black t-shirt. that one that he drowns in ever so slightly, where the sleeves fall down to his forearms and the extra fabric falls well below where his pants begin.

so when your boyfriend strolls into the common room after his shower, hair still damp with that damn big t-shirt on, you nearly choke on the popcorn you and nobara are already making progress on. he gives you a casual smile and takes his seat on the floor next to you.

“what movie are we watching again?” he asks.

you blink a few times at him, your brain a little hazy with arousal. “um… i’m not too sure.”

“you picked it,” nobara says through a mouthful of popcorn.

“it’s a romcom!” yuuji exclaims cheerfully. everyone turns to him with weird looks and his eyes widen momentarily. he crosses his arms over his chest, slumping on the couch. “i mean… it’s some stupid romcom.”

“right…” maki says, rolling her eyes.

“salmon roe,” toge says.

“everyone quiet! the movie’s starting!” panda says.

with every ounce of self-control that you have, you force your eyes onto the screen rather than on your boyfriend. you swallow thickly, pulling a blanket over your legs as if it might suffocate your arousal.

megumi only makes matters worse by scooting closer, grabbing the edge of the blanket, and covering his own legs with it too. his side is now flush with yours, arms bumping into each other gently. his large, warm hand finds home on your thigh and he gently massages the flesh. you look down at your covered lap, then up at him. feeling your eyes on him, he turns to you.

“you okay?” he asks, furrowing his brows as if he’s trying to read your mind.

you nod. “perfect.”

he studies your face for a beat longer, eyes searching for the answers you won’t give him. he nods slowly and turns back to the movie. his hand doesn’t move from your thigh. in fact, his thumb starts to rub slow, absentminded circles over the bare skin that falls right below your sleep shorts. the movement sends waves of heat through your body that you can barely contain.

it takes everything in you to keep your attention on the movie, but you can’t even remember the title of it now. characters are talking to each other. arguing? laughing? it’s all distant under the hammering of your pulse in your ears.

you’re not sure how long you manage to hold out. a lot longer than you expect, but you’re still sneaking glances at megumi when he’s not paying attention.

the movie plays on, but the warmth of megumi’s thigh pressed against yours and the slow, casual circles his thumb is rubbing on your leg is short-circuiting your brain. you force yourself to chew popcorn just to seem normal, although your appetite for food vanished the moment he saw down next to you.

every now and then megumi will lean forward to grab some popcorn or shift slightly to get comfortable, and every little movement causes that damn shirt to shift with him. it rides up, hangs from his shoulder, stretches before falling loose again. it’s all a real problem.

you try your best to act normal. you laugh when something funny happens on screen, occasionally make comments to nobara, but it’s getting harder. your voice is thin, body humming with energy. every brush of his hand is sending heat down your spine.

and you assume he doesn’t notice until you glance at him out of the corner of your eye and find that he’s not watching the movie. he’s watching you.

“what’s going on?” he asks softly, leaning in a little closer, keeping his voice low enough that only you can hear.

you blink. “nothing.”

“you’re acting weird.”

“i’m not acting weird,” you whisper back, a bit too defensively.

his brows pull together. he leans back to study your face more carefully. “you’re flushed.”

“i’m fine.”

“are you sick?” he asks, clearly more concerned than before.

you shake your head, glancing at the others as if they might save you. no one seems to be paying attention though. yuuji and panda are fully invested in the plot, maki has a drink in hand, nobara is scrolling through her phone, and toge is busying himself making another cup of tea.

megumi slides his hand from your thigh to your wrist, gently wrapping his fingers around it. “come with me.”

“what? why?”

“just for a second.”

you want to protest, but the concern in his voice is genuine and you know that if you say no he’ll only worry more. so you nod and let him tug you to stand up. everyone watches you two, but doesn’t say anything as you two exit the common room. megumi leads you quietly down the hall and into his bedroom, closing the door softly behind him.

“now tell me what’s going on,” he says gently.

you stand next to his bed, heart pounding. he’s facing you with arms crossed, the oversized black shirt hanging off him like a damn invitation.

you let out a slow breath. “i told you already. i’m fine.”

“you’re not fine. you’ve barely said anything since i sat down and you look like you’re gonna pass out.”

you groan and press your hands over your face. “megumi, please. just drop it.”

of course, he doesn’t. he takes a step closer, gently pulling your hands from your face. “talk to me baby.”

your eyes flick up to meet his and he freezes. something in his expression shifts, the confusion melting away into realization. his gaze trails over your face, then down, then back up again. his lips curve into a knowing smirk.

“is this… about the shirt?”

you stay silent, but the look on your face is answer enough.

“i didn’t realize… i mean, i’ve worn this around you before—”

“and how did those nights turn out?” you challenge. “and it’s not just the shirt. your hair was all wet and you smell like that, and i’m trying to watch a damn movie with my friends two inches away from all of it.”

megumi blinks, flush blooming across his cheeks. he exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “shit.”

you cross your arms, more frustrated at yourself than with him. “i was doing fine, you know, until you sat down and started rubbing my leg like it was nothing.”

he gives you a half-smile. “it was nothing.”

there’s a moment of quiet where the air between you two shifts. you can feel the electricity, the tightening of the silence between you. you watch megumi’s eyes dip down to your lips and stay there.

megumi steps forward, standing right in front of you now. close enough that you can feel the warmth rolling off his body. his fingers brush your cheek, tracing slowly to your jaw, tilting your chin up.

“you’ve been like this since i sat down,” he murmurs, voice low. “you could’ve just said something.”

“it isn’t exactly the easiest thing to bring up,” you say. your breath catches as his thumb grazes your bottom lip. “you were just sitting there like it was nothing.”

he smirks, tilting his head. “so what? me wearing this shirt is your kryptonite?”

you glare at him. “don’t make fun of me.”

“i’m not,” he says, leaning in so his nose grazes yours. “i’m trying to figure out what i should do about it.”

his lips brush yours, just barely, enough to make you chase the contact. he pulls back with a little hum of amusement, clearly enjoying the way you squirm.

“megumi…”

he finally kisses you, slow and deep, swallowing down the breathless sound you make against his mouth. his hands slide to your waist, guiding you backwards until your knees hit the edge of his bed and you sink down with a quiet gasp. he doesn’t break the kiss as he follows you down, settling his body between your thighs and bracing himself with a hand beside your head.

he grinds down into you and it sends a jolt through your whole body. you can already feel how hard he is against you, even through both of your clothes.

“you really were losing your mind out there,” he says against your neck. “all that squirming.”

you whimper and he grins, something low and dark and utterly satisfied.

“you could’ve asked me to take care of it, you know?”

“i didn’t want them to know,” you whisper, fingers clutching at the back of his shirt.

“they still don’t,” he says, lips brushing over your ear. “but you’re not leaving this room until i’ve fixed your little problem.”

his shirt brushes your skin as he shifts above you, and it makes you feel crazed. like the thing that drove you insane is now trapping you underneath him. the heat of him, the weight of him, the way he moves like he knows exactly what you need… it leaves your head spinning.

he kisses down your neck, trailing lower as his hands tug at your clothes to slowly strip you down. his pace is agonizing, teasing. he keeps you breathless and needy, never giving you everything at once.

when you’re finally bare beneath him he leans back slightly, eyes dragging over your body like he’s committing it to memory.

“fuck,” he murmurs, “you look so pretty like this.”

he yanks off his clothes in a hurry before kissing you again—hungry now, deeper than before. he gently guides himself into you, slow and steady, holding your hips still when you try to list them to meet him.

“not yet,” he whispers. “i want to feel all of you.”

your hands scramble for something to hold onto, his back, the sheets, anything as he begins to move. the pace is slow but firm, every thrust drawing a soft moan from your throat.

he pins your wrists beside your head, leaning in close, and the low sound he makes when you clench around him is pure filth.

“you feel that?” his hips roll deep into yours. “that’s what happens when you hold back all night.”

you moan, helpless and desperate. his thrusts grow sharper, hungrier without losing his control. he watches every reaction, every twitch, every gasp, feeding off the way you fall apart beneath him.

“you gonna be able to sit through the rest of the movie after this?” he teases, lips brushing your ear.

you can’t answer, not with words at least. you cry out, back arching off the bed, pushing your tits up towards him.

he grins. “didn’t think so.”

his mouth moves from your ear to your neck, kissing and biting at your soft skin as he moves inside you. he lets your wrists go and they immediately wrap around his back, scratching up and down his exposed skin.

“you’ve been sitting out there all worked up.” he drags his lips down to your collarbone. “thinking i didn’t notice, but i saw you chewing your lip. felt your thighs squeeze together whenever i moved.”

he punctuates the words with a slow thrust that hits deep, your breath stuttering out of you.

“you like the shirt that much?” he asks, brushing his lips just above your breast. “you gonna lose it is i keep wearing it around you?”

you nod, voice breathless. “yes. yes, please, wear it every day—”

he chuckles, dark and amused. “desperate little thing.”

his mouth wraps around your nipple and your back arches, a whimper breaking free as his teeth graze the sensitive skin. he switches sides, teasing with his tongue and lips while his hips keep their rhythm. slow, deliberate thrusts that make you feel every inch of him.

“you’re so wet,” he growls. “fuck, you were probably soaked the second i walked in, huh?”

i was,” you admit, flushed and wrecked. you dig your nails into his back, thighs trembling around his hips. “i couldn’t focus on—” you’re cut off by a particularly deep thrust, ripping a moan from your lips.

his pace speeds up, just enough to make the bed begin creaking underneath you both. he pushes your legs up, pinning them down at the knees with his hands on either side, spreading you wide open for him as he drives into you deeper. hitting that perfect spot over and over again.

your fingers tangle in the sheets, moaning loudly, completely at his mercy.

“look at you,” he says, voice low and ragged. “you’ve been falling apart since i sat down. now you’re shaking under me.”

”megumi—“ you gasp, voice high and wrecked.

he leans down, pressing his chest to yours, lips brushing your ear. “come on, baby. i know you’re close. let go for me.”

your fingers grip his shoulders, legs tightening around his waist as his name spills from your lips in a mix of a sob and a moan. the orgasm is blinding and hot, crashing through you and making your entire body shake under the weight of him.

he doesn’t stop, coaxing every wave of pleasure with slow, grinding thrusts that have your nails dragging down his back. then you feel him pulse inside you, reveling in the sharp inhale he takes as he buries himself deep with a quiet, low groan. you whimper as he fills you up, gently fucking the cum back into you. he stills for a beat, catching his breath, body heavy and warm above you.

the room fills with your shared breathing and the gentle creak of the bed beneath you.

megumi lets out a soft, breathless laugh and kisses your forehead. “you good?”

you blink up at him, dazed. “i think you broke me.”

“yeah?” he smirks and kisses the corner of your mouth.

you both lay there, tangled up in one another, for a while. your bodies are still warm, breath still uneven, the world outside the bedroom feeling nonexistent for a fleeting moment.

eventually, megumi shifts, brushing his fingers along your hip. “we should probably go back before they really start wondering.”

you groan. “i don’t even want to know how long we’ve been gone.”

“you’ll live,” he says, standing and pulling his shirt back on. you watch him with a tired, dreamy smile. you lick your lips when the shirt hangs loose on him again, the damn thing that started this all.

you both clean up quickly, getting somewhat presentable, though there’s a flushed glow that gives you both away. you both linger at the common room door for a moment, stealing a final kiss and trading a silent glance that says ‘act normal.’

when you reenter the common room the lights are dimmed low still, the volume just loud enough to fill the space. the movie’s still going, somewhere in the middle of an emotional montage. nobody really pays either of you much attention initially, although yuuji does lift an eyebrow briefly when megumi casually settles back down beside you, an arm slung around your shoulder.

it’s then that you begin to over analyze. megumi’s hair is slightly messier now, like someone had tugged on it… which you very much had done. you tug the blanket a little higher when you notice the slight tremble of your legs continuing.

“everything alright?” nobara asks, glancing at you with a curious tilt of her head.

“yeah,” you say smoothly, curling under the blanket with megumi again. “we just had a talk.”

megumi nods. “she wasn’t feeling great. needed some air.”

“oh,” nobara says, sounding convinced enough. “feeling better?”

you nod and smile. “everything’s fine now.” your voice is calm and practiced.

toge offers you a mug of warm tea with a small smile, and you take it with a grateful nod, sipping carefully to occupy yourself and avoid any further questions.

the next few minutes are quiet, peaceful. you refocus on the screen, your body pleasantly warm and tired as you lean into megumi’s side. his thumb strokes your shoulder in slow, lazy circles that are more comforting than dangerous.

then it happens—the main couple on screen is suddenly tangled together in a hotel bed. there’s soft lighting, heavy breathing, whispered confessions. the scene is surprisingly drawn out, full of tension and teasing and half-lidded gazes. the sound of the protagonist moaning drags everyone into a sharp focus.

there’s a beat of awkward silence.

“okay…” yuuji says, “wow. that escalated quick.”

panda stifles a snort. nobara slowly turns to you and megumi, squinting.

maki speaks first, completely deadpan. “so. just a chat, huh?”

you stiffen.

“must’ve been one hell of a conversation,” panda adds, barely holding back his laughter.

yuuji leans forward, grinning. “wait… is that why it took you guys twenty-five minutes to come back?”

toge covers his face, but you can hear him wheezing softly behind his hand.

your mouth opens, then closes again.

megumi stays perfectly still beside you, his expression unreadable. then he raises his cup of tea to his lips and says calmly, “timing’s a bitch, huh?”

you choke on a laugh.

nobara hits you with a pillow. “i knew it!” she groans. “the moment you walked in here looking all dazed—”

“i looked fine!”

“you looked thoroughly handled,” she snaps.

yuuji bursts into laughter. “handled is exactly the word!”

you groan and bury your face in mergumi’s shoulder. “can we just finish the movie in peace.”

“sure,” panda says. “but don’t be surprised if we all start mysteriously needing to talk one-on-one after this.”

you sigh, eyes on the screen, megumi’s hand now resting on your knee.

“next time,” you whisper to him, “you’re wearing a hoodie.”

he chuckles low in your ear. “no promises.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jjk #megumi fushiguro #jjk x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro x you #megumi x reader #jjk megumi #fushiguro megumi #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro smut

514 notes · View notes