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zombofreak · 18 days ago

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your arms are reaching / your eager heart is throbbing

k. bakugou, s. todoroki, i. midoriya x f! reader

how he reacts after learning his pretty girl struggles to get orgasms ꕥ smut 18+, timeskip characters, please read responsibly.

for the girls (like yours truly) who unfortunately struggle with this. don’t worry! communication! you deserve to cum!!!

song: couldn’t make it any harder

katsuki bakugou

- as everyone already knows, he will take any sort of test or opposition and stomp it into the ground. he’s the best, the greatest. not only is this another chance to prove how infuriatingly talented it is, but a chance to get you screaming his name and aching for him.

- the very first time he goes down on you, he’s so cocky and sure he’ll make you feel amazing. he lifts his head from your thighs and finds your face hasn’t moved an inch. “you gonna cum?” “uhm… no.” “WHAT!?”

- once you explain it to him, he’s seeing it as a challenge

- he finds communication so sexy. though 90% of the time he seems like a jackass who never listens, he’s far more perceptive than anyone could imagine. he learns not only your words but your body, the signs that you’re enjoying it or when you’re loosening up to him. as much as it is a fun challenge for him, his determination proliferates once he sees the frustrated tears boil over in your eyes.

- “calm down, babe. i’ve got you.”

he’s laying behind you, sideways on the bed while one strong arm lifts your leg up. his cock slowly pistons in and out of your pussy at a tortuous pace, his free hand rubbing circles on your clit while he has you feeling every inch of him. he’s fingered you for close to an hour before finally deciding you were wet enough to take him, all of him.

“hows this?” his voice is gruff in your ear. you know, by the scratch in his throat, that holding back is killing him. that if it were up to him, he’s have your face in the pillows wrecking your insides. but this isn’t about him. its about you, making your brain melt and toes curl from pleasure.

theres a hot coil in your stomach, about to snap at any moment. your nails dig into the sheets, clinging to anything, knowing that it could be his back you’re scratching up. you want to tell him to let go, to start fucking you rough and passionate the way he has always been, but you also know that this is the longest and most potent pleasure session you’ve had in a long time. you feel yourself gushing around his cocks, sucking him in greedily. you’re buzzing, body warm with satisfaction but a lingering need to feel him ravage you.

“you can go faster.” you grit your teeth, looking back at him over shoulder. he shifts to move on top of you, placing a kiss to your cheek and forehead before reinserting himself with little resistance. your legs wrap around his legs like a magnet, whatever was left of them not reduced to jelly.

“you sure?” red eyes glint with a flicker of momentary doubt. he knows you feel good, but he’s determined to make you feel amazing. “tell me what you like, baby.”

he begins moving his hips again, faster this time, and your back arcs like the london bridge.

“like that!” you’re quick to savour it, and he fucking smirks. he feels you cumming around him, an sweet, blissful orgasm tearing through you like a bullet through paper. but he doesn’t stop, fucking you through it and promising 3 mode.

“whatever you want, baby.”

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.*

shouto todoroki

- maybe its because he knows a thing or two about the absence of love and genuineness in places it should exist, but he tends to know when you lie. especially if its to protect his feelings in the form of forced moans or highs.

- he’s only began fingering you, noticing that your moans are off, and he’ll immediately withdraw. he’ll blink, confused, before returning to his normal, blunt self: “you don’t like it, darling?”

- he’ll stare, gears turning in his head while you ramble to come up with an answer. he’s difficult to lie to, seeing the way he tilts his head like a god damn puppy when he knows something is amiss.

- after you finally tell him, he’s silent for a few moments right before: “well, why didn’t you say so?”

- “i didn’t want to be difficult.”

- “it’s difficult to not love you.”

shouto has stamina, thats a no brainer. he’s been trained since day 1 to endure most things. so staying on his knees, head buried between your thighs isn’t exactly hard for him.

one of your legs stays hooked over his shoulder while the other is pinned down by his hand. you can’t remember the last time he’s actually lifted his head to breathe. he’d find a new way to take in oxygen if it meant keeping you pink and needy for him, the way he has you know.

his tongue moves in a messy pattern, swirling around and in between your slit before his lips move up to that delicate bundle of nerves, wrapping around the bud and sucking all the sweet nectar. his eyes are closed, a sort of meditation for him while you melt into the sheets.

“shouto!” his name comes out like a mantra. he wants to smile, to respond, but his lips are preoccupied with spelling out each japanese logographic character on your pussy.

so instead, he smiles mentally while moving his head up and down. you’ve never actually squirted before, but you were pretty confident this would be the day.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.*

izuku midoriya

- izuku possesses endless patience that extends with both his arms for you. he has only ever wanted to put a smile on your face, even if that smile is sometimes an o shape and eyes rolling back.

- he is incredibly understanding, not a trace of judgement in those green eyes. he’ll simply hold your hand, with all the respect and the world, and say: “let me help you, baby.”

- that gentleness is thrown at the window as he morphs into a complete demon, pounding into you with such force you’re sure you’ll break the bed.

“fuck! izuku! shit, uhm- you’re going so fast!” you blurt out, holding his back for stability. he’s bullying your pussy with his cock, reasoning that if he was going to make you cum, he’d do it right.

“i’ve got you, love.” he mutters into your ear, lip wrapping around your nipple while his squeezes your other tit. his pace doesn’t dare slow down, stars bursting behind your eyelids as every inch of him sends shivers of pleasure down your body. he somehow still manages to whisper the most tooth-rotting sweet nothings into your ear while he single handedly orchestrates that delicious skin slapping noise.

his pelvis rubbed against your already sensitive clit, your pussy glistening with sticky juices that he salivates just thinking about. if he wasn’t fucking you with his cock, it’d be with his mouth.

he cups your face with one hand, groaning as you squeeze even tighter. “you gonna cum, sweetheart?” unable to speak, you nod profusely. he fucks you through countless more through the rest of the night.

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zombofreak · 18 days ago

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Hongdae boy in he worst way💔💔💔

He’s never beating the allegations! 😆😆

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zombofreak · 18 days ago

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best friend! satoru who pinches you in public then blames it on someone who wasn't even close enough to have been able to do it. (he tried to trip you at first, but you caught him sticking his leg out and called him out.)

best friend! satoru who insists that your hangouts only take place at your house. he doesn't care if your house is big or small, he'd rather your house over his since yours feels more like a home.

best friend! satoru who, somehow, always manages to convince you to get fast food when you guys hang out.

best friend! satoru who loves baking with you. though, it's mostly you doing all of the baking while he opts to throw flour at you and lick the spoon once you're done mixing the batter.

best friend! satoru who's never had a girlfriend. well, okay, maybe he had one girlfriend during freshman year of highschool, but it only lasted a month. you still ask him why he refuses to go out with anyone despite the girls and boys who throw themselves at him. he shrugs it off.

best friend! satoru who is really really affectionate with you. he plays it off as a: “oh, no, it's not weird, we're just super close like that!”, type of thing. you've gotten used to it; him holding your hand in public, kissing your forehead, cuddling you 24/7, hugging you every time he sees you in the school hallways, ect.

best friend! satoru who doesn't deny it when people ask if you're a couple. and when you scold him later on, ranting about how now everyone is gonna get the ‘wrong idea’, he just smirks and says: “you never know.”, before walking away, leaving you totally dumbfounded.

best friend! satoru who, behind your back, never shuts up about you. it's comical how everyone but you knows how totally head-over-heals he is for his best friend.

best friend! satoru who hates all of your exes and crushes. every time you even mention having even the tiniest hint of romantic feelings for anyone, he loses his mind. he always has something to say, whether it be about their appearance or personality, he's never short of insults when it comes to your romantic partners. but of course you play it off with a simple: “oh, he's just being overprotective! all best friends are.”. oh, you. clueless you.

best friend! satoru who decides one random tuesday morning in the middle of january that he's gotta man up and confess to you.. but how?

best friend! satoru who decides since valentine's day is coming up, he'll confess then! i mean, that's what the whole holiday is for, no?

best friend! satoru who didn't take into consideration how long it'd be till valentine's day and what could happen in that time- till you get a boyfriend.

best friend! satoru whose heart is crushed. he hates how seriously this is affecting him, and he hates even more how perfect your boyfriend is. kento nanami. of course you'd fall for him, he's a total gentleman, a personification of the perfect man.

best friend! satoru whose heart is even more crushed when you tell him he needs to take a few steps back. apparently, nanami said he's uncomfortable with how close you and satoru are, and you totally understand. so you tell him no more cuddling, no more sleepovers, no more 4am taco bell drives, no more forehead kisses, no more “what if” questions involving you two being in a romantic relationship.

best friend! satoru who you stop talking to as much, too occupied with your new life, leading to a falling out in your friendship.

exbest friend! satoru who figures he should throw out the love note he wrote and all the gifts he bought. but he just can't.

exbest friend! satoru who, even twenty years later, still can't rid of his feelings for you.

exbest friend! satoru who, while you're happily married to nanami, stays your clingy exbest friend; a distant, blurry memory that swims deep in the back of your mind, though you can't be bothered to give it or him a second thought. even now, as a grown man, he looks through all the things he was supposed to give you that valentine's day. he rereads the love letter like somehow that'll make everything go the way he wanted it to.

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zombofreak · 23 days ago

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Caleb is a strong believer in your money is your money and his money is also your money.

Saving up for something special for yourself. You don’t have to. Caleb will buy it for you.

You see a pair of shoes you love while out shopping with him. They’re exactly in your style but they’re expensive. You can’t justify to yourself to spend that much.

“Get them, I’ll pay for it Pips”

“No it’s fine. They’re too expensive for you to do that for me”

The next day a package is delivered to your apartment. It’s the exact same shoes you wanted in your size. Plus another pair in a different color.

Your car broke down and it’s going to be costly to fix. Caleb is already telling the mechanic to bill him the repairs.

Caleb gave you access to his savings accounts, checking accounts and credit cards. So you can use them whenever you need.

Caleb prides himself in being a provider. What’s the point in earning so much money as a colonel if he can’t take care of and spoil you.

Im an amateur at writing. I’m sorry for any mistakes

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zombofreak · 25 days ago

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hate how good you fuck // satoru gojo

𓂃୨ৎ satoru gojo, the hockey hotshot, and you, the pretty figure skating queen, have been rivals for years—his flirty taunts drive you crazy. but when your partner gets injured, guess who’s suddenly your only option on the ice?

𓂃୨ৎ pairing. afab!reader x ice hockey player!satoru gojo

𓂃୨ৎ warnings. mdni. enemies to lovers (kinda), fluff, oral (f receiving), fingering, changing room fucking, risk of being caught, size difference, teasing, praise, messy sex, mirror, creampie, mutiple rounds and positions

“watch where you’re going, princess,” satoru calls, his voice dripping with that infuriating smirk as you nearly collide with him outside the college ice rink, your skates slung over your shoulder. his white hair’s a mess under his cap, fully dressed in his hockey gear and blue eyes glinting like he knows he’s getting under your skin.

you’re the campus darling—figure skater, straight-a student, the girl everyone wants to be or be with—and satoru, star of the hockey team, never lets you forget it. “maybe if you didn’t hog the rink, i wouldn’t have to,” you snap, brushing past, ignoring his laugh, “damn, you’re hot when you’re mad.”

he’s been like this since freshman year, always at the rink when you practice, tossing compliments that feel like taunts: “looking good out there, princess,” or “bet you’d fall for me if you tried.” you hate how it flusters you, how he’s always there, stick in hand, watching your spins with those stupid, piercing eyes.

you’re not just some popular girl; you’re a national-level figure skater, and your partner, choso, is your ticket to the upcoming intercollegiate pairs competition. satoru’s just a distraction, a thorn in your side, and you tell yourself you despise him.

but today, everything changes. you’re mid-practice, choso lifting you for a twist, when he stumbles, knee buckling, and you both crash to the ice. pain shoots through your ankle, but choso’s worse, clutching his leg, coach rushing over.

“sprained, maybe torn ligament,” the medic says later, and your heart sinks—competition’s in six weeks, and choso’s out. you’re sitting on the bleachers, icing your ankle, when coach approaches, looking grim. “we need a replacement, and fast. you’re our best shot at nationals, but you need a partner.”

“who’s left?” you ask, dreading the answer. coach hesitates, “gojo. he’s the only one with the skill.” you laugh, bitter, “satoru? the hockey clown? no way.” but coach is serious, “he’s not just hockey. he was a competitive figure skater before college, junior nationals level. he’s your best option.” you’re stunned, picturing satoru’s smug grin, but coach insists, “meet him tomorrow. no choice.”

next day, satoru’s waiting at the rink, no hockey gear, just a fitted black sweater and skates, looking… different. focused. good.

“so, princess, ready to dance with me?” he teases, but there’s an edge, like he’s daring you to underestimate him. you cross arms, “don’t call me that. and don’t screw this up.” he smirks, “wouldn’t dream of it, hotshot.”

you grit teeth, hating how he makes “hotshot” sound like a caress, but when you hit the ice, he’s… good. terrifyingly good. his edges are clean, spins tight, and he glides like he was born on blades, not a puck in sight.

training’s hell. satoru’s a paradox—cocky off-ice, all “look at you, miss popular, melting the rink,” but precise on it, catching you in lifts like you weigh nothing, his hands firm, warm through your costume. you’re smaller, maybe a foot shorter, and his height makes throws effortless, but his teasing never stops.

“c’mon, you can moan louder than that when you land,” he quips after a rough jump, and you shove him, “shut up, gojo.” he laughs, “satoru, please. we’re partners now.” you roll eyes, but your cheeks burn, and you hate how his voice lingers.

weeks pass, and tension shifts. you’re syncing, moves fluid, his hands guiding you in spins, your bodies brushing in ways that spark—his breath on your neck, fingers grazing your waist. you’re practicing a side-by-side lutz, and he’s close, whispering, “you’re too stiff, loosen up,” his hand on your hip, lingering. “stop flirting,” you snap, but your voice wavers, and he grins, “who’s flirting? just helping my partner.”

you want to hate him, but you’re starting to… not. he’s still a tease, but he’s there early, lacing your skates when your ankle’s sore, taping your wrist after a fall, muttering, “can’t have you breaking, princess.”

one evening, the rink’s empty, music off, just the scrape of your blades echoing in the dim, frosty air. you’re alone, wrestling a triple salchow, your nemesis jump. you’ve been at it for an hour, frustration knotting your chest, each attempt ending in a wobbly landing or a near-fall. you curse under your breath, pushing hair from your face, ready to try again, when satoru glides in, unannounced. he’s in a plain hoodie, skates silent, blue eyes catching the rink’s faint lights, softer than you’ve ever seen.

“you’re overthinking,” he says, skating close, stopping a breath away. “it’s not math, hotshot. feel it.” you frown, “easy for you to say,” but he doesn’t tease, just holds out a hand, steady, calloused from ice hockey. “c’mon, like this.”

you hesitate, then take it, his grip firm, warm through your chilled fingers, grounding you. he pulls you gently, skating backward, guiding you slow, deliberate, across the ice. “don’t force it,” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours, “let your body move.” his voice is soft, almost hypnotic, and you follow, mirroring his glide, your blades carving smooth arcs, his hand anchoring you.

he adjusts your posture, a hand brushing your waist, light but deliberate, “hips loose, not stiff.” you try to focus, but his touch, his nearness, makes your pulse jump.

you skate together, slow circles, his grip steady, guiding you into a single salchow, then a double, his voice coaxing, “there, that’s it, now push.” you land it, clean, and he smiles, “see? you’ve got it.” you’re breathless, not from skating, but from him. “why do you always tease me?” you ask.

he pauses, blades still, hand tightening on yours. “’cause you’re you,” he says, voice quieter, “all fire and ice, untouchable. makes me wanna… get close, break that wall.”

your heart skips, his words stripping you bare. “you’re close now,” you whisper, and he steps nearer, ice crunching, his height towering, breath visible in the cold. “yeah,” he murmurs, “too close,” blue eyes raw, searching yours, like he’s seeing past your popularity, your armor, to the girl who’s scared to fall.

you’re still holding hands, bodies inches apart, the rink’s chill fading against the heat between you. his thumb brushes your knuckles, slow, deliberate, and you wonder if he’ll kiss you, if you want him to. you’re not enemies, but you don’t admit it. competition nears, your sensual routine demanding trust.

during a late practice, satoru’s lifts are flawless, his hands steady, guiding you through a triple twist like you’re weightless. but you fumble a throw salchow, misjudging the edge, and your body twists awkwardly, crashing hard onto the ice with a sharp gasp, pain flaring through your hip and ankle.

you hiss, curling into yourself, the cold biting through your leggings. satoru’s there in a heartbeat, sliding to his knees beside you, panic flickering in his blue eyes, usually so smug. “shit, you okay?” he asks, voice low, urgent, hands hovering like he’s afraid to touch you.

“fine,” you mutter, trying to sit up, but the pain makes you wince, and he’s not buying it, his brows furrowing. “don’t bullshit me, hotshot,” he says, softer now, one hand gently pressing your shoulder to keep you still. “stay down a sec.” you glare, hating the vulnerability, “i said i’m fine, gojo,” but your voice lacks bite, and he shakes his head, “no heroics, we need you in one piece.”

before you can protest, he scoops you up, effortless, his arms strong under your back and knees, carrying you to the rinkside bench like you’re something fragile. you’re smaller against him, your head brushing his shoulder, and despite the pain, your cheeks burn at how close he is, his cologne—crisp, like winter air—filling your senses.

he sets you down gently, kneeling in front of you, eyes scanning for damage. “where’s it hurt?” he asks, hands already moving, careful, to your ankle, fingers brushing the skin above your skate. you flinch, more from his touch than pain, “hip and ankle, not bad.” he frowns, “not bad my ass,” and unlaces your skate with ease, slipping it off, his touch so soft it’s almost reverent.

“satoru, i can—” you start, but he cuts you off, “shut up and let me help.” it’s not mean, just firm, and you’re too stunned to argue, watching him roll your legging up, exposing your ankle, already swelling slightly.

he grabs an ice pack from the rink’s first-aid kit, wrapping it in a towel, and presses it to your ankle, his large hands steady, holding it in place. “keep this on,” he says, eyes flicking to yours, checking for compliance, and you nod, biting lip at the cold.

his fingers linger, brushing your skin, and you notice how big his hands are, dwarfing your ankle, making you feel delicate in a way that’s new, unsettling. he shifts to your hip, hand hovering, “can i check here?” you nod, and he presses gently, testing for tenderness, his touch clinical but warm through your shirt, sending a shiver up your spine. “just bruised, i think,” he murmurs, more to himself, but his hand stays.

“you didn’t have to carry me,” you mumble, trying to reclaim some control, but your voice is soft, and he smirks, though it’s gentler than usual, “wanted to, princess. can’t have my partner breaking.” you roll eyes, “i’m not your anything,” but the words lack heat, and he chuckles, “keep telling yourself that.” he adjusts the ice pack, his fingers brushing your calf, and you’re hyperaware of every touch, the rink’s chill fading against the warmth of his proximity.

he sits beside you, close, shoulder brushing yours, and grabs a water bottle, handing it over, “drink, you look pale.” you take it, sipping, and he watches, quiet now, no teasing, just concern. “you scared me,” he admits, voice low, almost shy, and you blink, “scared you? mr. invincible?” he laughs, soft, “yeah, well, you’re kinda important.” your heart does a flip, and you look away, “don’t get sappy, gojo.”

“satoru,” he corrects, tilting your chin back with a finger, his touch light but electric, forcing you to meet his gaze. he’s closer than ever, and you’re frozen, breath catching. “say it,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your jaw, “satoru.”

you swallow, “satoru,” voice barely a whisper, and his lips quirk, “good girl.” the air shifts, heavy, his face inches from yours, eyes dropping to your lips, and you’re leaning in, drawn, his breath warm, mingling with yours—

a rink door slams, a janitor’s voice echoing, and you both jolt, pulling back, hearts pounding. he clears his throat, “uh, better check that ice,” standing, but his hand lingers on your shoulder, squeezing, “rest, okay?” you nod, flustered, “yeah, okay.” he smirks, “don’t fall for me too hard, hotshot,” and you scoff, “in your dreams,” but as he skates off, you’re not so sure.

final practice, you nail the routine—spins sync, lifts soar, his hand catching yours mid-air like it’s fate. you’re panting, faces close, and he murmurs, “we’re gonna kill this.” you nod, “damn right,” and he grins, “that’s my girl.” your stomach flips, and you don’t correct him.

competition day, arena buzzing, you’re in a glittery costume, satoru in sleek black, hair tamed. backstage, he’s quieter, “nervous?” you shrug, “you?” he smirks, “nah, got my lucky charm,” nudging you. you roll eyes, but smile, “don’t mess up, partner.” he winks, “never.”

the ice is yours. music begins, and you’re fire and ice together—his lifts make you fly, spins mirror-perfect, your hand in his like it belongs. you feel the crowd, the judges, but it’s just you and satoru, his breath syncing with yours, his hands strong, guiding, teasing even now with a whispered, “lookin’ hot,” mid-spin. you hiss, “focus,” but laugh, and he chuckles, “always.” the final lift, he throws you, catches you, dipping you low, faces inches apart, and the crowd roars as music fades.

scores come—first place. you’re screaming, hugging him, and he lifts you off your feet, spinning, “told you we’d kill it!” you’re laughing, “you’re not half bad, gojo.” he grins, “satoru. and you’re fucking incredible.” you’re too happy to argue, letting him pull you close, his warmth sinking in.

“admit it, princess, you’re totally into me now,” satoru gojo teases, leaning against the changing room locker, his white hair still damp from the rink, blue eyes glinting with that infuriating, irresistible mischief.

the competition’s over, your first-place medals heavy around your necks, the arena’s buzz fading, leaving just you two in the cramped, fluorescent-lit room, costumes half-unzipped, skates off. you’re sitting on a bench, peeling off your glittery tights, and you scoff, “in your dreams, gojo. you’re still a pain in my ass.”

he grins, stepping closer, towering over you, his sleek black costume clinging to every lean muscle, making your stomach flip despite yourself. “oh, c’mon, hotshot, i saw you blushing out there, all pressed up against me in that dip,” he says, voice low, playful, but with an edge that sends heat up your spine.

you stand, barely reaching his shoulder, and poke his chest, “i was acting, you idiot. we’re partners, not lovers.” his smirk widens, “acting, huh? so why’s your face red now?”

you roll your eyes, turning to grab your bag, but he’s faster, grabbing your wrist gently, spinning you to face him. “satoru—” you start, but he’s close, too close, breath warm, eyes dropping to your lips. “you like me,” he murmurs, and before you can deny it, he kisses you, soft at first, testing, lips warm and sure, stealing your breath. he pulls back, smirking, “should i stop?”

you glare, “no,” and yank him down, kissing him harder, desperate, hands fisting his shirt, pulling him closer. he groans, surprised, then dives in, kissing you deep, tongue brushing yours, hands sliding to your waist, gripping tight, pressing you against the locker. it’s messy, urgent, your lips crashing, teeth grazing, his hands roaming, one slipping under your unzipped jacket, warm against your bare back, making you gasp into his mouth.

you’re drowning in him—his cologne, his low chuckles between kisses, the way he’s both gentle and demanding, tilting your head to deepen it. “still denying it?” he whispers against your lips, nibbling lightly, and you huff, “shut up,” kissing him again, fingers in his hair, tugging, earning a soft moan.

the changing room feels smaller, hotter, the world narrowing to his lips, his hands, the way you fit against him despite your height difference. “fuck, you’re trouble,” he murmurs, kissing along your jaw, and you laugh, breathless, “you’re one to talk.” he grins, pulling you closer, “bet i can make you worse.”

“you’re all talk, gojo,” you shoot back, tugging at his sleek black costume, but your voice is shaky, betraying the heat pooling low in your belly. “all talk? oh, princess, you’re gonna eat those words,” he says, and before you can retort, he sinks to his knees, his hands sliding up your thighs, pushing your sparkly skirt higher.

the cold bench bites into your skin as you sit, legs parting instinctively, and his fingers hook your panties, tugging them down with a smirk, “look at you, already so ready.” you hiss, “satoru, the door,” glancing at the unlocked entrance, but he shrugs, “let ‘em walk in. i’m busy.” his nonchalance sends a thrill through you, and you’re bare now, skirt bunched at your hips, pussy exposed, slick glistening under the harsh lights.

he looks up, eyes darkening, “fuck, you’re gorgeous,” voice rough, no trace of his usual teasing lilt. his hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider, and you flush, hands gripping the bench, “stop staring.” he grins, “can’t help it, hotshot,” and leans in, breath warm against your folds, making you shiver.

his tongue flicks out, teasing your clit, light, barely there, and you gasp, “oh, shit!” head falling back, the locker rattling behind you. he hums, pleased, and licks again, slower, a broad stripe from your entrance to clit, tasting your arousal, sweet and heady, his tongue curling, savoring every drop.

“so fucking wet,” he groans, pulling back to watch your pussy clench, slick dripping onto the bench, and you whimper, “shut up, just—do something.” he laughs, “bossy, huh? love that,” and dives in, no more teasing, mouth relentless, sucking your clit softly, then harder, tongue flicking fast, precise, driving you wild. his lips seal around you, pulling gently, and you moan, loud, “satoru, fuck!” hands flying to his white hair, tugging, earning a muffled growl that vibrates through you, sending sparks up your spine. he’s messy, slurping, licking through your folds, tongue circling your entrance, dipping in just enough to make you buck, desperate for more.

“taste so good,” he mutters, and you’re trembling, thighs shaking, trying to close them, but his hands hold you open, fingers digging into your skin, bruising. “stay still, princess,” he orders, and you try, but it’s hard when his tongue’s relentless, flicking your clit, then sliding down to tease your hole, pushing in, fucking you shallow, slick coating his chin, dripping to the bench. you’re a mess, moaning, “satoru, please,” hips grinding, chasing his mouth, and he smirks against you, “so needy, look at you.”

he pulls back, blowing cool air on your pussy, making you whine, “don’t stop!” and he chuckles, “patience, hotshot.” his fingers trace your folds, one slipping inside, slow, stretching, curling to hit that spot, and you gasp, “fuck, right there.” he adds another, pumping steady, deep, while his tongue returns to your clit, licking fast, syncing with his fingers, building you up, pressure coiling tight.

“satoru, gonna cum,” you moan, voice breaking, and he growls, “do it, cum on my face,” sucking hard, fingers curling. “satoru!” you moan, pussy gushing, soaking his mouth, fingers, bench, body shaking, vision white, tugging his hair, riding the waves as you cum.

he doesn’t stop, licking through your orgasm, overstimulating, tongue relentless, fingers still pumping. “too much,” you whimper, pushing at his head, but he grabs your wrist, pinning it, “you can take it,” voice mean, eyes glinting. he slows, kissing your inner thigh, nipping lightly, leaving marks, and you’re panting, dazed, cum sticky on your skin, his face glistening. “fuck, you’re perfect,” he murmurs, standing, pulling you up, and you’re wobbly, leaning into him, kissing him, tasting yourself, moaning into his mouth, messy and desperate.

“need you,” he growls, shoving his costume pants down, cock springing free—thick, long, tip red and leaking, veins pulsing. you lick lips, “fuck, satoru,” and he smirks, “like what you see?” you nod, “want it,” and he lifts you, effortless, pinning you against the locker wall, cold metal biting your back, his hands under thighs, spreading you wide.

“so fucking needy,” he teases, rubbing his cock through your slick, coating himself, teasing your entrance, “beg, princess.” you glare, “just fuck me, asshole,” and he laughs, “that’s my girl,” thrusting in, slow at first, stretching you tight, making you cry out, “fuck, s’big!”

he pauses, letting you adjust, forehead against yours, “you okay?” voice softer, checking, and you nod, “yeah, move.” he does, pulling out, slamming back in, deep, filling you, pussy clenching, slick and cum easing the stretch. “so tight,” he groans, thrusting steady, hard, wall rattling, skin slapping, your moans loud, echoing, “satoru, fuck!” his hands grip tighter, bruising, lifting you higher, angling deeper, hitting that spot, making you see stars. “look at you, taking me so well,” he praises, but it’s laced with teasing, “thought you hated me, huh?”

“shut up,” you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders, legs wrapped around him, pulling him closer, loving his cock, his voice, his fucking smirk. “make me,” he taunts, fucking harder, faster, locker banging, your pussy soaking him, dripping, smearing between you, down his thighs, to the floor. “gonna cum again,” you moan, head thrown back, and he grins, “already? greedy little thing,” one hand sliding to rub your clit, fast, sloppy, and you’re screaming, “satoru, fuck!” pussy pulsing again, cumming hard.

he doesn’t slow, “fuck, that’s it,” thrusting through your orgasm, relentless, cock dragging, overstimulating, making you whimper, “satoru, can’t.” he growls, “oh, you can,” and keeps going, harder, deeper, wall creaking, your body pinned, helpless, his. “so fucking good,” he groans, thrusts sloppy, losing rhythm, and you feel him twitch, “gonna cum,” he warns, and you moan, “inside, please.” he curses, “fuck, you’re killing me,” and cums, hot, thick, filling you, spilling out, dripping down your thighs.

he holds you, panting, foreheads pressed, your legs weak, cum trickling, sticky, warm. he kisses you, softer, slow, tongue lazy, and you melt, hands in his hair, tugging gently. “you like that, don’t you?” he teases, lips brushing yours, and you laugh, breathless, “it’s not bad.” he grins, “one more, then?” he pants, still hard inside you, voice rough, eyes glinting with that sadistic tease you’re starting to crave.

you’re dazed, cum trickling down your thighs, body trembling against the wall, and you blink, “what?” he grins, wicked, pulling out slow, making you whimper at the loss. “oh, you heard me, hotshot,” he says, grabbing your hips, spinning you so fast you yelp, “satoru, what the—!”

he sits on the bench, still slick with your cum, and pulls you onto his lap, spinning you to face away, straddling him reverse, your back against his chest, legs spread wide. “ride me,” he orders, voice low, hands guiding your hips, his cock nudging your entrance, already hard again, tip brushing your swollen folds.

you moan, “satoru, i can’t,” body spent, but he nips your ear, “oh, you can, princess, and you will.” his hands are firm, lifting you, teasing your pussy with his cock, making you shiver, want pooling despite exhaustion.

“look at yourself,” he murmurs, tilting your head toward the full-length mirror across the changing room, your reflection a mess—skirt bunched, costume askew, thighs glistening with cum, face flushed, eyes glassy. “fuck, you’re so hot,” he groans, and you see it too, your body trembling, pussy hovering over his cock, his hands gripping you, possessive. you meet his gaze in the mirror, blue eyes burning, and you nod, “okay,” voice small, but you want it, want him, this reckless, messy heat.

he lowers you, slow, cock sliding in, stretching you again, and you moan, “fuck, satoru,” watching in the mirror as your pussy takes him, inch by inch, his thick length disappearing inside you, slick and cum making it glisten. “that’s it,” he praises, one hand sliding to your pussy, fingers parting your folds, exposing where you’re joined, “look at how you take me, fuck.” you gasp, seeing it—his cock buried deep, your pussy stretched, dripping, his fingers spreading you open, clit swollen and pulsing.

“ride,” he says again, and you do, lifting, slamming down, moaning, “s’too much,” but it’s not, your hips moving, fucking yourself on him, watching in the mirror as his cock slides in and out. “so perfect for me,” he groans, other hand on your hip, guiding, bouncing you, skin slapping, wet sounds filling the room. his fingers rub your clit, slow circles, then fast, and you’re whining, “satoru, fuck!” head falling back, but he tilts it forward, “keep watching, princess, see how you fuck me.”

you do, mesmerized, your pussy clenching, gushing, his cock disappearing, reappearing, slick and cum making every thrust messy, dripping, pooling beneath you. “love this,” he mutters, fingers spreading you wider, “love how my cock looks inside you, so fucking tight.” you moan, “satoru, gonna cum,” hips frantic, riding harder, mirror showing your tits bouncing, his hand on your pussy, his eyes locked on yours. “cum, hotshot,” he growls, rubbing your clit faster and he’s not stopping before he fills you up again, making a mess out of you.

later, you’re panting, trembling, collapsing against him, cum trickling, mirror reflecting your wrecked state. he kisses your neck, soft, “still hate me?” you laugh, breathless, “yeah, but i like that.” he grins, holding you close, “good, ‘cause i’m keeping you, princess.”

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zombofreak · 28 days ago

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“just one more, cutie.”

one more? you didn’t think you could take another. not when rafayel hasn’t given you a single break. not when his slender fingers stay buried in your soaking cunt, curling upwards, coaxing you into your next orgasm. and he’s so calm, like he hasn’t just made you cum for the nth time. you’ve lost count by now. any thought in your mind being replaced by rafayel and rafayel only.

“raf- i can’t…”

he hears you, but chooses to ignore your weak plea. you’re sore. overstimulated. you’re being pushed to the limit. rafayel wanted to see how far you could go — how much you could take. but your body’s desperate for him to stay. everything’s so overwhelming, but it feels so good and intense, even more so than before.

each thrust of his fingers brushes right against that sensitive spot inside you, sending shivers down your spine. edging you closer and closer to your climax. your knuckles turn white, hands clawing at the sheets beneath you. that familiar pressure builds again — it’s too much.

and just like that, you snap. a strong wave of pleasure crashes over you. but this time it feels different. your body jerks forward, a long whine escaping your lips as rafayel continues to ruin your cunt. screwing your eyes shut and you practically see stars. and you can only hear yourself, your own sinful cries ringing in your ears, unaware of the reality that’s playing out between your legs. unaware of the pure amazement and awe that’s glistening in his eyes while he watches you let go.

he works you through it, dragging the climax out of you before movements slow down. he finally leaves you empty, admiring your aching pussy clenching around nothing. your eyes flutter open, lips parted as you catch your breath, chest heaving. and suddenly your heart sinks, your face warms up, blushing red.

you meet his eyes. his face is soaked with your arousal, slick coating his nose, cheeks and chin. his hair wet, droplets falling from the ends onto the bed, adding to the already damp spot on the sheets. you’re flooded with embarrassment, only now realising what you’ve just done — what rafayel has just pulled out of you. and he’s just smiling. lips curved into a smug grin like he was proud of what he’s done.

“wow, you should’ve let me do that sooner.”

a/n - finally feeding the rafayel girlies (or guys or anything in between) 😚

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zombofreak · 1 month ago

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bad habit

Word Count: 2.1K Warnings: SMUT (18+) baby daddy!Caleb he toxic, you toxic, we all toxic! mentions of accidental pregnancy, baby trapping, p in v, wrap it before you tap it kids, emotional manipulation, cheating, tiddies, swearing, not really proofread oops Summary: what could go wrong when you drop your daughter off at her dad's?

A/N: ahahaha....yeah.

Masterlist | Tip Jar

You opened the front door just as Caleb’s Lamborghini pulled up. The engine had barely cut before he stepped out, lifting Lyra from the back seat in his signature gray sweatpants. The ones you used to steal for bed because they were soft and roomy. The ones that outlined his third leg that had you drooling into the pillow when he took you from behind.

And the cologne? The one that used to bring you to your knees? It hit you before he even reached the porch: warm, woodsy, with that hint of sweetness underneath.

You hated how your body still recognized it.

“Morning,” he said with that lazy grin, the one that meant trouble.

“It’s 3 PM.”

He shrugged, setting Lyra down. “Afternoon, then.”

She immediately ran to you, and threw arms around your legs. “Daddy let me eat a whole donut!”

“Did he now?”

“Don’t worry,” Caleb said, hands shoved into his pockets, “I balanced it out with organic apple slices.”

You met Caleb in college through your friend Zayne. At the time, you were deep into your studies, spending late nights hunched over textbooks, juggling clinical rotations and barely enough sleep to function. Caleb was your polar opposite: a frat boy with lofty dreams of becoming a pilot.

What you didn’t know was that Caleb had noticed you long before that first introduction. He’d asked Zayne about you, watched for you on campus, and memorized your schedule. Before long, he was trailing you, orchestrating run ins and brushing them off as coincidence.

Despite the differences, something about his boyishness drew you in. He was sweet. Thoughtful. Always showing up with your favorite coffee like he’d read your mind, offering you his hoodie when it got cold, texting reminders to eat when he knew you were pulling all-nighters. You chalked it up to young love.

Then you found out you were pregnant.

You’d both been careful. Religiously so. But birth control failed you, and suddenly everything changed.

Caleb had pretended to be shocked. He stammered through questions, like the news had knocked the wind out of him. But deep down, he was thrilled. Triumphant. Like the universe had handed him exactly what he needed to keep you tethered to him.

Before the end of your first trimester, he was already coming up with baby names, borrowing prenatal books from the library and picking out nursery colors.

He convinced you to give your little family a shot.

And for a while it worked.

But old habits die hard. Caleb was addicted to adrenaline and the freedom of the skies, always off on assignment or with his friends. He’d return after long absences with grand gestures, overcompensating in ways that only made you feel more alone. Like a single parent playing house with someone who showed up only when it was convenient.

In the end, you were the one who ended the relationship. You told Caleb that Lyra deserved more stability than the two of you could offer as things stood. If he wanted to be part of her life, something had to change. You gave him a choice: co-parent on your terms or risk losing both of you for good.

Caleb agreed, saying all the right things and promising to do better for your daughter. And he did. As soon as Lyra could walk, he started taking her to enrichment activities, showed up to school functions and even rearranged his assignments to stay closer. His social media was curated with moments of fatherhood designed to prove just how devoted he was.

But even after four years apart, he kept tabs on your every move using your daughter as a reason to keep his foot in the door of your life.

Because two things were clear in his mind: one, you would never take his daughter away from him, and two, you were his forever, whether you liked it or not.

You cleared your throat and grabbed Lyra’s backpack. “Hey, would you be able to take her an extra day this week?”

“Yeah? You got plans?”

“Science symposium on Wednesday night. I’m on the panel.”

Which was true. Mostly. You just didn’t mention the reception after. Or the dress you hadn’t worn since pre-Lyra. Or the plans you had with your boyfriend.

“Love?” Zayne’s voice floated from inside the house. “Do you want me to start dinner—Oof!”

Lyra barreled into him before he could finish, wrapping her arms around his legs with a squeal of laughter.

“Uncle Zayne! I saw the dino at the museum!” she beamed, bouncing on her toes. “The big one with the long neck! Brachiosaurus!”

He gave her an exaggerated gasp of admiration that made her giggle.

Zayne had been your friend first at university, just two nerds bonded by matching caffeine addictions and mutual exam anxiety. He was the one who introduced you to Caleb but moved away for his residence, and life naturally pulled you in different directions.

But then you ran into him at a medical conference and suddenly it felt like no time had passed at all. He’d just returned to Linkon, now a cardiac surgeon at Akso Hospital. One coffee run turned into late night texts and somehow, he had reentered your life, this time again as your boyfriend.

Caleb clenched his jaw as he watched the scene unfold. Lyra had always been a sweet little girl but sometimes, she was a little too friendly for his comfort. Especially now, clinging to Zayne like that.

“Sure,” he said, a little too quickly. “Yeah. I can take her.”

Co-parenting with Caleb had been smoother than you expected and you told yourself it was all for Lyra, and mostly, it was. But there was still a part of you that couldn’t let go.

Which is how you ended up pinned against the wall on Wednesday, an hour before your panel, with Caleb’s cock sliding in and out of your sopping cunt.

You were just dropping Lyra off on your way to the symposium hoping for a quick goodbye and a gentle reminder for your daughter to be good. But then Caleb opened the door completely shirtless with nothing but sweats on.

“You dressed up for me?” he asked with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes. “It’s for the symposium.”

He tilted his head, gaze dropping to the deep neckline of your dress then back up.

“We’ll see how far that dress gets you.”

“Pretty far,” you shot back. “Starting with away from here.”

“Hey, Bug,” Caleb called over his shoulder, tone softening. “Why don’t you head inside and pick a movie? I’ll be right there.”

Lyra nodded leaving the door ajar behind her. He stepped closer, closing the distance, and your eyes dropped straight to the expanse of his chest, right to those perfect pecs you loved taking a bite out of.

“Yeah? Where you gonna go? To your little boyfriend? Last time you looked at me like that, you ended up bent over the counter.”

“Asshole,” you muttered, but didn’t step back.

He leaned in, lifting the hem of your dress. “Yeah. But I’m your asshole.”

You knew he was challenging you. And maybe you’d already accepted it the moment you engaged with him. The thought of him waiting, imagining what was under your dress, had already started undoing you before he even touched you.

His fingers glide up your thigh before hooking your lace panties to the side. The tip of his clothed cock brushed against you and you couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped you as he toyed with your slit.

“I’m going to be l-late!”

“Then you better cum quick.”

His lips brushed along your jaw as he pulled the strap of your dress down, cupping your breast with his other hand. You hated how easily he got under your skin. You hated how your body betrayed you, how your eyes rolled back as he pushed between your folds, making your cunt flutter and drawing out choked sobs from the sheer size of him.

It was a habit. A bad one. You had no business being here, like this, especially not now. Not when you had someone else. Someone kind, sweet, and good.

This wasn’t the first time you’d fallen into this dance with your ex. And deep down, you weren’t sure it would be the last. Because the lies and guilt didn’t matter when Caleb had his hands on you.

“Look at the mess you’re making,” he growled, gripping your jaw and tilting your face down to where your arousal coated his shaft, the thick, creamy ring forming at the base.

“Squeezin’ me like this. This what you wanted, huh? He’s not fucking you right, is he?”

“N-No,” you whimpered, shaking your head.

Caleb grinned before crashing his lips against yours, swallowing your moan as your fingers tangled in his hair. You were breathless, chest heaving as his tongue dragged along your bottom lip before his teeth caught it in a teasing bite.

“You’re mine. Always mine.”

You felt it in the way he moved. Every thrust was a punishment, a reminder that you could never truly leave him. Coherent thought vanished, replaced by the overwhelming way he filled you and you could only ground your hips harder against him. Caleb met you without hesitation, thrusting up, deeper and rougher, like he knew exactly what you needed and refused to give you anything less.

“Miss this pussy so much, shit…” he gritted out, eyes squeezing shut as he fought against the surge of release threatening to take over.

You could tell he was trying hard to keep his shit together. You wanted him to come undone, and so you did the only thing that came to mind: you pushed your hips forward, clenched your pussy muscles and latched your lips around one of his nipples.

If Caleb needed to remind you that you were his, then this was your reminder that you could ruin him just as easily. The groan that rumbled through his chest was animalistic and going without your pussy for weeks made him sensitive. Now that he has it wrapped around him he could hardly stand it.

“B-Baby fuuuck,” he moaned, then suddenly his hand was on the back of your head, urging you on as you lapped at his chest.

His face scrunched up as you gently pinched his nipple between your teeth and you grinned, flicking your tongue over it. There was something addictive about watching him fall apart.

Maybe it was payback for all the nights he left you alone with Lyra, for every bullshit excuse he made up, or for the times he ditched you for his friends. Whatever it was, watching him unravel felt like reclaiming power—messy and petty.

Caleb squirmed and let out a gasp that sounded close to a whimper as you moved to the other one. You gave it a few licks before biting down, eyes fixed on his face through your lashes. His face was flushed red, eyes squeezed shut and mouth slacked.

Seeing him like this had you edging closer yourself, because how could someone look so pretty, all fucked out for you?

“Hnngg gonna cum in you, ‘kay? Gonna come in my pussy, give you another baby hahhh…”

"Caleb-- Caleb oh-- fuck I'm gonna cum!"

With a guttural groan and a stutter of his hips, Caleb flooded your cunt with thick ropes of cum, leaking from your folds and trailing down the backs of your thighs.

One messy, unrelenting thrust later, and the tension coiled in your belly snapped, setting you ablaze. Your toes curled as stars burst behind your eyes, your body trembling uncontrollably as you clung to him like your life depended on it.

Just like he wanted.

Caleb pressed his forehead to yours, then caught your lips in one last, bruising kiss. When he pulled back, he crouched to slide your sticky panties back into place, like he was sending you off with a parting gift.

One he hoped your perfect, sweet boyfriend and colleagues would notice.

You were a wreck. Sweaty, flushed, makeup smudged, hair a tangled mess around your face as you yanked your dress back down. And you still had to sit on a panel and talk about infectious diseases like you hadn’t just been thoroughly fucked on the front step of your baby daddy’s house.

You wobbled to your feet, trying to piece yourself back together, when Caleb pulled out his phone and tapped the screen.

“Security cam caught the whole thing,” he whistled.

You spun around. “Caleb!”

But he was already strolling inside like he hadn’t just ruined your evening and career in ten minutes. His lips curled into a smirk as he slipped his phone back into his pocket.

That footage might come in handy someday.

“Bug! What movie did you pick out? Let’s order pizza!”

taglist: @browneyedgirl22

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zombofreak · 1 month ago

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The kitty and the frog ✨

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zombofreak · 1 month ago

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get freaky on camera // satoru gojo

𓂃୨ৎ you’re an onlyfans creator frustrated with bad partners, so you jokingly ask your best friend to help film content... but he’s game.

𓂃୨ৎ pairing. afab!reader x best friend!satoru gojo

𓂃୨ৎ content. mdni. friends-with-benefits, filming, oral (f and m receiving), praise kink, creampie, shower sex, fluff, aftercare

best friend!satoru’s been your closest friend forever, with that messy white hair and blue eyes that make everyone stare. one day at his place, you complain about not finding enough good partners for your onlyfans and you joke, “maybe you should help me film some content.” you laugh, but he grins, leaning forward, “let’s do it.”

best friend!satoru’s game immediately and sets the ground rules over pizza, “we fuck for your fans, keep it professional, no strings.” you’re hesitant, “just for content, right?” he nods, “just for content.” but you both know that’s not true.

best friend!satoru who you shoot your first video with him that night, pushing your pizza away and abandoning the movie that was playing as you straddle his lap, his kisses hot down your neck. “fuck, you’re so hot—let’s give ‘em a show,” he says, filming as you ride him and fuck, he’s good, hitting every spot and you moan louder than you ever have with any other partner.

best friend!satoru who checks the video after, smirking at the views pouring in. “told you we’d kill it,” he says, replaying the part when you’d cum on his cock over and over and you’re flushed, “it’s just the angle.” he laughs, “don’t get shy now, babe. we’re hot and the fans love it.” you shove him, but he’s right—the chemistry’s insane, and the fans really love it.

best friend!satoru who suggests a blowjob video next because “fans love that shit.” he guides you down, “lick slow—fuck, yeah, like that.” and he’s so vocal, “shit, baby, you’re so good—look up at me.” and then films you taking him deep, moaning, “fuck yeah, babe.” and then cums down your throat so hard, the phone’s nearly slipping from his grasp as his orgasm ripples through him.

best friend!satoru who eats you out so good you almost forget you are filming for your only fans. his tongue’s between your legs and you’re gettin’ wetter by the second, thighs tremblin’, but he’s taking his sweet time until you pull at his hair and urge him, “fuck, satoru! make me cum already!” and he’s loving every second of it.

best friend!satoru’s softer after the shoot, surprising you with how gentle he can be. he grabs a warm towel, “you okay, superstar?” he makes you tea and tucks a blanket around you. “you’re acting like my boyfriend now,” you tease, but he smirks, “nah, just the best co-star you’ll ever have—nobody’s taking care of you like me.”

best friend!satoru who you do a content marathon with one lazy weekend. fucks you in every position—missionary, doggy, you on top, him on top, you name it. “fuck, baby—taking me so well.” he’s relentless, cumming three times but still hard, “gonna ruin you for everyone else.” you’re exhausted but don’t stop, he’s fucks you so good it’s addicting.

best friend!satoru’s basically living at your place—filming, fucking, chilling. picks your lingerie, “this’ll make ‘em drool—you’re so hot in it.” off-camera, he’s cooking you dinner, “can’t let my star go hungry.” you laugh, “you’re way too into this.” he shrugs, “damn right—you’re the hottest thing on the internet, and i’m the lucky guy making it happen.” his hands linger, and you don’t pull away.

best friend!satoru who fucks you in the shower against the tiles for a new video, water streaming, phone catching every drip, “fuck, you’re so tight,” he says, fucking you hard and cums so deep inside, kissing your cervix with every thrust. “that’s the money shot.” and films how his cum is dripping between your legs. after, he’s kissing your wet skin, “you’re too fucking good, babe.”

best friend!satoru who texts you at 3 a.m., “thinking of my favorite girl—wanna film?” shows up with your favorite sugary drink, “only the best for you, babe.” you catch him staring when you’re just chilling afterwards, eyes warm. “satoru, this is just content, right?” you ask, voice small. “sure,” he says but it doesn’t sound true, and you’re starting to crave his presence, not just his dick.

best friend!satoru’s been your only onlyfans partner for months, ever since you realized nobody else could fuck like him or make you cum so much. you used to film with others, but now it’s just satoru, and the way he looks at you—like you’re more than content—makes your heart skip.

best friend!satoru who got you pinned on his bed, clothes already off, when you realize—shit, you forgot to hit record. “satoru, the camera,” you gasp, but he’s kissing you hard, “fuck the camera—need you now.” you don’t stop him; he’s too good, cock sliding in deep, hitting spots that make you see stars. “moan for me, just me,” he says, and it’s raw, intense—better than any filmed scene.

best friend!satoru’s different after that night. he’s over at your place, not for a shoot, just to hang—ordering takeout and binging a shitty rom-com. “you’re fucking gorgeous even in sweats,” he says, tugging you onto his lap. you tease, “no camera today?” he shrugs, “don’t need it.” he kisses you soft, no rush, and you’re starting to wonder why this feels so normal.

best friend!satoru’s acting like your boyfriend now, and you’re not fighting it. he’s over all the time, not just for shoots—cooking you pancakes, you stealing his hoodie, him calling you “babe” in that low voice that makes you melt. you’re holding hands, sharing lazy kisses, and it’s couple shit—brushing teeth together, him carrying you to bed. “you’re my favorite everything,” he says, and it’s too real.

best friend!satoru who’s quieter one night, sitting on your balcony with you, city lights below. he’s holding your hand, unusual for his cocky self. “babe, i gotta say something,” he starts, eyes serious. “i don’t want you filming with anyone else—fuck, i don’t want anyone else near you. be mine, exclusive—my girlfriend.” and you’ve never been more happy in your life.

best friend!satoru’s your boyfriend now, and it shows—he’s louder, prouder. you film a new video, “my girlfriend’s the fucking hottest,” he says on camera, fucking you deep and hard. “nobody takes me like you,” he groans, loving how you feel around his cock, the way you moan and scream his name. “love you,” and he’s thrusting harder.

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zombofreak · 1 month ago

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Sweet girl <3

Brain rotting caleb, giving his girl exactly what she deserves !! .. if not more :3

WARNINGS: SMÜT!!! fingeríng, praise, overstimulation, nghhh caleb metal hand

The wet clicks of skin on skin filled the room.

Breathless moans and whimpers fell from your mouth like a waterfall, “god, Caleb, please..- can’t— i can’t—“ His fingers burried deep in your cunt, the other, metal hand, working on your puffy clit. He only murmured in your ear, “i know, baby, i know.” Whilst his hands did nothing but speed up.

You had came, what, three times now? He still hasn’t had enough. Enough of your moans, your taste, everything.

Your back pressed against his chest, you were able to feel his erection against your lower back. Your hips bucked and thighs shook against his hold, his arms wrapped around your waist, meeting between your legs where he relentlessly pleasured you.

His eyes were intense, trained on you.

You? Your eyes were closed. head thrown back against his collarbone and shoulder as you whined his name. Every touch, every push of his fingers inside you, every broad stroke to your clit.

Fuck if he didn’t stop you were convinced you’d die.

“Caleb, oh fuck.. gonna cum..-“ You pant out., jaw wide open as you moan once more. Every sound you made was music to Caleb’s ears, his hair sticking to his forehead from damp sweat. “Yeah? Gonna make another mess for me, sweetheart?” He mumbles in your ear, eyebrows furrowed as he hyper focused on making you cum.

“One more, i can pull one more out of you, right? You can do that for me, sweet girl?” He gently says with that smile, that smile that seemed to drag you by your neck. The smile that made you want to melt every time he spoke.

Minus how overstimulated you were, you nod, your naked form weakly shaking. “There we go, that’s it— God you sound so good, so good for me..” He groans quietly when your hips buck back against him. You even heard what could be written down as a whimper come from his lips.

“Caleb..” You breathe out again.

“I know, cum for me, sweetheart. ‘s okay.”. He gently coos into your ear, his rough hands portraying a different message. One final harsh circle on your clit and you tensed, body growing taut as your hands dug into his thighs, that were on both sides of your hips. Your eyes rolled back, jaw slack.

His metal hand pulled away from your nerve, the other hand inside you slowed. He’s working you through your orgasam. His lips were soft, slightly chapped, they kissed down your damp neck. your hair stuck to your forehead.

You whine quietly.

He looks up with a small chuckle, “you’re still needy? I would have figured four was enough to satisfy you, pipsqueak.” He teased.

You huff quietly, “i wanted to make you feel good too, asshole..” you grumble out. You shiver with a gasp when his fingers pull out of you, feeling yourself clench around nothing. He brought his hand up to your face, “look at the mess you left..” His hands were covered in white, you look away in embarrassment.

He hums, “suit yourself,” he says as he cleans his own fingers off. You recoil slightly. “I hope you don’t plan to kiss me with that same mouth.” You say with a small smirk, he only mirrors your expression as you climb out his lap, turning to face him. He moved on his knees, boxers having a clear tent in them— and it wasn’t small.

“You might be a mind reader, because that was exactly my plan.” He says with a laugh. He crawls over you, pressing your back against the bed. When the cool metal hand presses to your warm pussy again, you tense.

“Still sensitive?” He laughs, he pushes his boxers down, kicking them off to the side with the rest of clothes he ripped off you.

“Shit.. look how hard you made me, baby.” He groans out, giving himself a few experimental strokes. He twitches and his hips buck into his own hand. His eyes drift close for a second.

You crane your head up for a second, swallowing harshly when he makes eye contact with you, hand still pumping his cock.

You huff once more, “Caleb, cmon—“ You whine. He only rolls his eyes, “impatient.” He says back, grabbing you by the fat of your hips and pulling you closer to him, you gasp. “A warning?!” You complain as he laughs.

“You’ll live, won’t you?” He sneakily replies, teasing you by rubbing his flushed tip against the sopping lips of your pussy. You groan in irritation.

He finally gives in, as he slowly pushes into you, gasping. “Oh,, shit.. you’re so tight—“

You only groan in response, “shut up..” You huff.

He smiled down at you. You had your eyebrows furrowed, trying to focus on anything but the fucking burning from the sheer girth of him. “Fuck, that hurts..-“ You breathe out, he coos. “You’re a big girl, you can handle it, right?” You scoff, as another sting hits you. “Are you in yet?” You ask with impatience.

he goes quiet. “eh.. like.. halfway..?” He guesstimates. You groan, “caleb i swear to every god if—“ You shudder, he just fully seats himself like he’s not going to puncture a damn organ.

You writhe under him. “What’s wrong? didn’t you tell me to hurry, pipsqueak?” He teases, you glare through your watery eyes. “Fuck off..”

He laughs, slowly pulling his hips back, only to sharply thrust back into you. A cry leaves your lips as your eyes shut. “God!- Caleb, you’re so damn harsh!” You complain.

He pays you no mind, his harsh thrusts seemed to hit deep parts of you that only he could reach. He was slow, making sure to really milk this moment with you. When you crack you eyes open, you saw him staring down at you.

You choke back a moan as you speak. “..What?” You mumble. He shakes his head, “don’t worry your sweet head about it, just thinkin’ ‘bout how pretty you look right now.” He hums, before leaning down to kiss you.

The kiss was mainly teeth and tongue, Caleb doing everything in his power to savor your taste. The metallic hand tightens around your waist as he groans, “holy.. shit..” He whimpers out, hips snapping forward at a faster pace as his hands push you into the bed. Basically smushing into you. The only thing you could do was gasp and moan.

“God- so pretty, you’re so— fuck.. so fucking pretty like this, y’know?”

He rambles, as if he’s drunk off your living essence. “Can’t get enough of you, sweet girl, god— you’re so perfect..-“ He mumbles against your lips as you pant for breath.

“Caleb, baby, w..wait.. can’t—“ You try to warn, He groans when he feels you flutter around him. “I know you’re close, ‘s okay, i can pull one more outta ya’ can’t i , sweetheart..?”He says, more so asking himself rather than you, mouth moving to your neck to kiss and bite at it.

You whine, “no— can’t, i can’t..-“ You tried to shake you head as he tuts against your skin. “You can, you will.” He whispers back, a dark edge to his tone.

That seemed to fill him with a new determination, he doubles down on his actions, metallic hand still on your waist as the other paws at your breasts. Toying with your nipples. Your body jolts, back arching when you let out another cry.

He smiles widely, “there we go, atta girl, cmon baby. Cum one more time for me, one more— that’s it..” He praised you quietly as he feels you shiver, gripping around him like a vice as you came, sobbing as you hands clawed at his arms.

He groans loudly, “shit— gonna cum— god.. wait..” He tried to pull out to finish on your tummy, just to avoid any unneeded mistakes, when you shake your head.

“‘s okay,, on the pill, inside. Please- Please Caleb..” You rasp out, fuck, he couldn’t say no. He buried himself back to the hilt, his head going to the junction of your collarbone and neck as he whimpered your name, and fuck, it sounded much better when it came from him.

“Cumming, oh shit!-“ He shuddered, as you feel that full and warm sensation in your stomach. Eyes closing as both you and him bathe in the afterglow.

It was quiet for a few minutes, nothing heard but both of your labored breaths. He slowly raises up, looking over your form.

He takes a breath, “come on, gotta get you clean..” You groan tiredly as he rolls his eyes. “You’ll be fine, here, i’ll even run the bath for you AND carry you there, deal?”

A wide smile takes your face, you nod. “Deal, I expect a meal afterwards too, by the way.” Caleb scoffs, “I know I know, from scratch and home made, right?”

You giggle, “you already know, hm?”

٩(^‿^)۶

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zombofreak · 1 month ago

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satoru is your ex for a reason.

one that you can't seem to remember as he rolls his hips against yours harder and harder, like hes purposefully trying to lapse your memory, fuck you so stupid you wonder why you broke up with him in the first place.

he was only supposed to come over to grab some of his things he had left at yours. his toothbrush and a few pairs of clothes were tossed into a box and then discarded in favour of winning you back.

is it working? maybe. the eyes he gave you were so wide and wistful and needy that you couldn’t help but let him carry you to the bedroom and eat you out for an hour before letting him fuck you

“you’ll take me back, won’t you baby?” he asks, fucking you deep into the plush mattress that finally doesn’t dip where he used to sleep at night. “your pretty pussy misses me so much, she’s squeezing me so tight…”

“gojo—”

he thrusts hard, kinda mean. “toru, baby. you call me toru, remember? say it right.”

“toru, you’re so fucking—“

“in love with you. i miss you so much; please take me back, baby! gonna make you cum so hard you forget we ever stopped dating to begin with, hm? actually— we should just skip the whole make-up thing and get married.”

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zombofreak · 1 month ago

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sylus’ rough hands grip your hips tight, thrusting into you teasingly slow as he has you bent over the fancy bathroom’s countertop, hiking up your delicate black dress just above the mound of your ass.

you bite down on your bottom lip hard, attempting to keep in any sound that threatens to slip through — avoiding suspicions from any buyer who happens to walk past the room.

your face flushes, only hearing his low, heavy breaths and the lewd sound of your wet cunt sucking him in completely, turning you on even more.

you didn't want people to know how well sylus was stretching you out, he’s practically moulding your pussy to the shape of him. but it feels so good. and unlike you, he’s revelling in your efforts to try to stay quiet.

the movement of his hips rolling into yours pick up the pace, and with a smirk plastered across his face, sylus watches your eyes screw shut through the mirror in front of you. god, you look so pretty like this.

your lip leaves its trapped position between your teeth, mouth involuntarily falling open as his cock slides deeper and deeper into your warm pussy, hands hastily trying to grip at something on the cold marble beneath you for stability.

your walls clench around him, his cock kissing that spot within you that had your vision blurring. pleasure increasing with every single thrust.

“hah.. fuck, sy-“

without hesitation, sylus is quick to cover your mouth. although he loved seeing you struggle, no one else deserved to hear your pretty moans.

effortlessly, he lifts you up, pressing your back against his front, maintaining the toe-curling rhythm. you’re forced to watch your vulnerable, fucked out state in the reflection, while catching a glimpse of sylus’ half-lidded red eyes staring right back at you.

“keep the noise down, sweetie.”

he leans down to your height, face next to yours, lips merely a few inches away from your ear as you feel his breath fanning against your skin.

“wouldn't want anyone to hear us now, would you?”

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zombofreak · 1 month ago

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zombofreak · 1 month ago

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nerd!gojo always pulls a face and complains when you mess with his glasses.

but it’s different when he’s trying to study and you’re just messing with him for the sake of it. he can cope with that, scrunch his nose up and swat your hand away and pretend he’s not secretly hoping you give him even more of your attention.

what he can’t cope with is when you pluck the glasses off his flushed face when you’re about to sit on his face. it’s like an extra level of preparation that does unnecessary things to his blood flow. you fold them all nice and set them on the bedside table and then lower yourself onto his lips to take what you please from it.

he can’t handle it. he has to thank whatever divine creature crafted you that you’re not paying any attention to his cock because even a glance in its direction from you at that point could set him off. he’d be cumming ropes with no plausible reason besides your presence!

so imagine what happens when you’re riding him, he’s sticky and hard inside of you and on the last threads of his sanity, when you reach over to the bedside table and slip his glasses onto his face with a pretty ‘want you to see how you’re stretching me out even better, toru. you see that? so big inside me…’

he cums so hard he starts praying to you that’s what.

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zombofreak · 1 month ago

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𐔌 𖹭 𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒖 𝑮𝒐𝒋𝒐 ˖ ࣪✧

ᡴꪫ. part 2 & oral, curse gave him accidental aphrodisiacs oh nooo 𖹭 f. reader ˖ ࣪ꮽ˳

˖ ࣪ 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕. ۫ ۶ৎ the reception for part one was pretty good so I made this a lil longer. eat up ૮𐔌ᡘ ´ ˘ `๑꒱ა !

satoru gojo still won't let you suck him off.

you're on plan f after yet another failed attempt of tending to his morning wood. or maybe it's plan g if you include your attempt at sixty-nining? maybe plan h for thinking handcuffs could hold him? your pussy's still aching after that one. you're starting to lose hope.

but who thought help would come in the form of overworking and curses. two banes in your relationship with the strongest sorcerer — ended up being the ace up your sleeve.

the front door shuts. you brace yourself for warm arms and hearty kisses all down you neck. instead - slump. a sudden weight nearly bucks your knees and you push back to stabilise.

"satoru?" your eyes flutter wide and you spin to the boneless mess that is your boyfriend. blindfold pushed further into tousled hair. no grin, only a low pout. his face warm, bright pink. blue eyes like murky oceans as his forehead slumps into yours.

you don't quite notice the tremble on his lips, or the hitch of his breath when you press closer.

"baby . . . "

"oh toru, you look exhausted."

your tender hands become his sanctuary. his face buries into them while you stroke your thumbs along his cheekbones. dinner would have to wait, your boyfriend needs a shower and sleep.

he's panting, he must be beyond fatigued.

it's what he adored about you; how you took care of him. he — a behemoth next to you, and yet you so dutifully ushered him into the bathroom, helped him into comfortable clothes and laid him on his side of the bed.

"I'll be right back, yeah?" your hand strokes through his hair to lay a kiss on his forehead, before you're off. so blind to the way his fingers thread along your shirt's hem as you part. almost pleading, needing.

satoru groans and tucks his face into the pillow. he feels every breath, every twitch. it's far too warm in these four walls for winter. he just showered but his skin feels clammy. the air in his lungs shallows.

your pillow - your scent. that expensive floral perfume he insisted on buying for you. it does more harm than good. he barely even realised that he'd slowly, sloppily shifted it between his legs. one small roll of his hips devastated him. his head falls into the sheets. another groan. this is torture. how is he already so hard? how is he already throbbing into the fluff —

"toru?" that soft voice will be the death of him. he shakily casts a glance. tries to mouth an apology and fumble your pillow away, but you're over him in seconds. "are you okay? what's going on?"

so understanding. so caring. his throat bobs as he melts into your weight on his back and the thumb on his cheekbone.

"really weird curse today," another throat clear. "so tired. fuck, I didn't realise it even hit me. just feel s'hot, baby. so hot." as if he wasn't sorry for it in the first place, his hips stutter on your pillow again.

it clicks. how glad you are he isn't facing you. the grin you muster is both parts evil and mischievous. as if you cherry-picked the curse on his latest mission. perhaps the universe really is on your side.

"so hot, toru? let me help . . ."

his eyes snap open wide. he knew the second he felt your sneaky palm cupped over his bulge, he just signed his soul off.

and right now? he's too weak to fight you on it.

head tossed back. white strands strung over his sweat-glistened forehead. the pink dust painted into a hot, red blush over his face. every second breath warrants a gulp. wrists tied - frankly loosely - to the headboard. it didn't matter. satoru gojo didn't have his strength in this moment.

"shit - sweetheart - hah." your tongue traces on the lithe bump just below his cockhead. your lips join the mix in a slow suckle. coating his dick in gloss with every tentative movement of your mouth.

you giggle as his hips buck. nimble fingers squeeze around his dick's base you can just barely wrap your hand around. "yeah? you were depriving yourself of this all along, you know."

you smooch a sweet kiss to his tip. slow, sensual, before you start sucking down. from the angle you witness his pretty blue eyes flutter rapidly and nearly roll back. muscles tense as he tugs on his binds. how easy it would be to snap them. if every inch of his body didn't feel on fire. if every little lick and suck didn't have him spilling like a fountain.

"don't . . . 'ont, baby." he struggle through a taut jaw. your lips swiftly trace back down, along that one, throbbing vein on his underside. before your tongue presses flat and strokes a long stripe back to the tip. your hand follows the motion in a jerk. he whines.

"fuck. wait. don't - I — "

velvet wraps around his angry, hot tip once more. this time you take him deeper. push the plush head to the corner of your cheek then withdraw — then back again, this time down your throat.

satoru's eyes widen. pupils blown out. his mouth hangs agape as he focuses his remainder strength on not fucking his dick down your throat. his hands clench. his chest stutters. balls tighten as a release quickly builds, tight in his gut. every bob of your head is a sinful image. with your lips stretched round his girth while you gaze at him through sultry lashes.

fuck, he can't do this. he shouldn't - "babbyyyy," he whines, breathless, pitched. "gotta stop - fuck - gonna cum. please."

pop! you part with a pant while your hand mindlessly keeps a fluid stroke. "why?" airy, near-cruelly, sweetly. "why won't you let me? why are you stopping me?"

"want you t'feel good - wanna make. . . wanna make you feel good too -"

"I do feel good, satoru."

his breath hitches. you give him a glossy smile and trace kisses in a tender circle over his cockhead. together with a squeeze and a thumb stroking vertically onto that prominent vein, you croon.

"feel so good when I'm making you feel good. promise you're not selfish. please? I just wanna show you how much I love you."

another kiss. he's teary with need. it's the aphrodisiac. that damn curse. making him weak, making him vulnerable. but maybe . . . it's worth it, if it's for you,

maybe feeling good isn't such a sin, if it's you.

"okay," he gulps. throat tight. lips trembled. "okay, sweetheart. I'll — mngh!"

it's quite possible all six eyes rolled back. his hips jerk at the sudden warmth engulfing his dick. you took him back down your throat with ease. hand messily pumping on whatever you couldn't fit as you dutifully got to work. head bobbing, cheeks hallowing. how could you possibly be patient?

for months he denied you. half the year, even. deprived you of taste. of the satisfaction to make him feel good. his retribution will come in the back of your throat. his plush, throbbing tip hits it repeatedly and he squirms from the overwhelm.

"baby - fuck-!" snap. one bind falls from his wrist. instead of pushing you away this time, his fingers delve to your scalp and hold. tightly. hips fall into rhythm. he fucks your throat in a way you could only dream of for months. till your eyes are rolling back with his.

spit and slick drip to his thighs. down your chin. a mess you're proud of. you'll pull back to suck near-suffocation on his tip then dive back down when a familiar throb alerts you.

"gonna - g-gonna - shit - babbyyyyy," a small arch finds his back. his hips sloppily, pitifully try to match your pace. his balls throb again. tighten. his tip pulses. he aches in heat, in pleasure. jaw taut and head flung back as you take him higher - and higher — until finally,

"fuck, yes yes yes like that fuuckk."

he bursts. thick ropes of cum cream the back of your throat and your eyes flutter in a sinful display. whites clear with your irises rolled back, but you're still so eagerly gulping him down. every drop. you're sure as hell not wasting after finally getting a taste.

satoru limps. boneless. for once in his life he cannot see anything at all. only white, hot pleasure as his body reels from the intense, blissful tides. every muscle gives out. his hand flops over your head. his hips so needily grind up a few more times. he's lost. shattered.

and you still have the nerve to slowly part with the sweetest kiss to his tip. with a smile so angelic. like you hadn't just crawled from the depths of hell.

his gaze slowly eases to you; your tongue is awaiting. poked from your glossy lips with a glob of his cum trickled. his mouth parts at the sight. eyes crease and squeeze as he tries to catch his breath.

"finally." you croon, gulping down the final wad as you lean over and brush your lips to his. "see baby? see how good I feel when you're feelin' good?"

the wet patch on your panties flushed to his throbbing cock hitches his breath. he deeply groans. nods his head and weakly cranes into you.

"I get it now baby, I get it."

white lashes flutter. he looks at you as though you hung the sun, moon and stars. his lips pull into a tired pout.

"now can you get over my face? need my sweet pussy too."

͝ ⏝𝅄︶ ͝ ⏝ ⊹ ⏝ ͝ ︶𝅄⏝ ͝

ꘓ 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔 : @downpourz @unadulteratedtranquility @meosq @k0z3me @le0na2 ۪ ୧

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