Latest Posts by black-noir-ink - Page 3

I’LL SPILL MY GUTS IF YOU FOLLOW MY LEAD

You make the mistake of asking Shigaraki about those hands he carries around, and he decides the best way to make you understand his ‘family’ is to show you. Real love means sharing everything, right?

» pairing: shigaraki tomura x afab!reader » word count: 4.8k » notes: My piece for @get-shiggy-with-it​’s Don’t Go Breaking My Heart collab! » contains: angst, heavy noncon, implied kidnapping, mild violence, Shigaraki getting weird with the hands, arguable necrophilia courtesy of ‘Father’, fingering, forced orgasm, penetrative sex, dissociation, mindbreak. 18+, minors DNI.

“Tomura, please. I don’t want to do this.”

He’s heard those words from you before. More than once, though less and less often as the weeks and months have passed. He ignores it, usually. Follows Sensei’s advice and doesn’t concern himself with those protests, because the older man has said it more than once, hasn’t he? They’ll come around, Tomura, so long as you persist. And Tomura’s nothing if not persistent.

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the “good girl” after he cums & before he pulls out is what I live for

hi hello m also here to leave a smol hc for your event ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

nanami who frequents a specific bakery, tells everyone that it’s for this new stuffed pastry he likes when they ask, but little do they know that his favorite pastry is the new ‘n sweet little baker in town that he personally gets to stuff<33 - 🍡

nanamin's guilty pleasure

400 follower event entry #1

pairing: nanami kento x reader

genre: smut

warnings: f!reader. age gap. smut! semi-public (bakery backroom). sloppy quickie. creampie. slight!breeding kink. pet name (baby). slight!cumplay.

"hey, nanamin," gojo calls after his blonde colleague, eyes training on the latter as he sits behind a desk, "what do you like so much about that bakery?"

nanami's head lifts up, glancing at gojo who's so comfortably leaning against the doorframe, and he knows that his coworker can't see the irritation in his eyes behind his glasses, but he wishes he could.

"just curious," gojo chuckles, "i stopped by the other day, and it doesn't seem all that interesting to –"

"pastries," nanami replies, cutting the other male short, and the lie slips off his tongue so well, like he's practiced it a thousand times, "stuffed pastries are my… guilty pleasure."

stuffed pastries. sure. the pastries are good, great even – but the pastries are nothing compared to you, when you're bent over and dripping with his cum over in the bakery's back room.

he's got two fingers – index and middle – shoved into your mouth, pressing down against your tongue and vibrating as you mewl and groan with every delicious thrust of his hips into yours, every rut of his aching cock into your plush heat.

"feels so good for me," he praises you, and you try to smile around his fingers, blissed out and so grateful to be his fuck-toy, to help him through his daily frustrations. you're whining, tears streaming down your pretty face and dripping off your chin and onto his warm hand that holds your face in place.

"mmmh – 'namin, s'good!"

you're slurring his name, spewing absolute nonsense as you clench around his length and drip down into the dainty lace panties that dangle around your thighs, panties you bought to show off to him. he's sweating more than he sweats in battle as he fucks into you, groaning with every time your walls contract around him, and you whimper incoherently as he fucks you stupid. he can feel every flutter of your walls, every squeeze that means you're getting a little closer, and he ruts harder and harder against that good, sweet spot that makes you cry out and see stars.

"c'mon, baby," he urges you weakly, because he knows you're so, so close, and he knows he is, too, and he's praying you'll cum around his cock before he cums inside of you, "cum for me, know you want to, can feel it."

"w'nna cum, 'namin, w'nna cum s'bad – oh, fuck, please, please, please, lemme cum!"

you yelp, choking as his huge hand wraps around your throat, tugs you up higher and bullies his hard cock deeper into you, fucking you harder and faster, chasing the high that he can feel building up in his belly, and you're gasping and whimpering as your back hits his chest, head buried in his shoulder, and his heavy balls slap against your clit with every rut.

"so good for me," nanami whispers, words of praise sending waves of pleasure all the way through your slicked-up cunt that squelches with every thrust, the sounds and smells of sex occupying each and every one of your senses, "gonna fill you up as a reward, baby, nice and full of my cum."

the waves are crashing harder, the pleasure hitting you over and over, taking over your vision and sending your eyes rolling back into your head, and you squeal –

"ooh, f-fuck, 'namin –"

and then the bough breaks, your two-man ship colliding with the shore and shattering on impact, and you're gaping like a fish out of water, mouth open in a silent scream – and as you cum, cunt fluttering around him and milking him for all he's worth, so does he; spurts of pearly white cum shooting into your pussy and dripping, lewd squelching sounds filling the room, as he thrusts into you, fucking you through your orgasm and gently pressing you down on the break table before you, drowning in your whines.

"f-fuck," you whimper out, and nanami chuckles as he waits for your cunt to stop clenching around him, waits for you to breathe evenly, before he slowly pulls his cock out of your cunt – and then he stares.

the sight is enough to make him hard all over again, watching your cunt flutter, dripping his cum so lewdly, and he can't help running a finger down your slit, collecting the cum and using a single digit to push the sticky mess back into you.

"n-no, 's sore, 'namin –"

"i know, baby, i know," he chuckles, leaning down to tug your panties back up your thighs, "can't help it, 's so cute, hmm?"

you chuckle at the sweetness of his tone, glance up weakly to see him staring down at you the same way as he adjusts his pants, buckles his belt, and he smiles softly, whispers hoarsely, "need a coffee?"

"that would be nice, yeah," you say meekly, and he nods. "coffee machine's –"

"in the front, i know," nanami chuckles, reaching for his glasses that he keeps in his blazer pocket, "not our first rodeo."

you giggle at that, thank him quietly as he helps you stand up straight, kisses your forehead, and gently sits you down on a chair. you watch him leave the backroom with his shirt untucked, looking oh-so untidy, and you smile tenderly.

nanami, however, enters the front room and stills as he stands behind the counter. his mouth goes dry, and he frowns.

"stuffed pastries," gojo, leaning against the counter with a wide, devilish grin on his face, "i get it now."

bunny's taglist: @bihwhatever2 @mssuguru @feral-creep @thechroniclesofawriter @xsmilesx @amethyst-bunny @kageyama-i-want-tobiors

Prompt 13: “You don’t think I’d burn this entire country, just to keep you as mine?”

Pairing: Yandere!Endeavour x Fem!Reader

Words: 1.6k

Warning: 18+, minors dni // abusive behaviour (like… very abusive), angst, choking, dark themes, kidnapping, near-death experience, slight infantilization, suicidal ideation, victim-blaming, violence, yandere

55 Prompts Masterlist

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My current kink is watching men unbuckle/take off their belt

Half-Full, Half-Empty - Chapter 5

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i spend hours daydreaming about fictional things in bed so i can have the energy to get up and daydream about fictional things for the rest of the day

i dont want the mean guy who’s soft only for me i want the psychopath with no moral compass who’s moral compass becomes even more skewed for my sake bc i’m just the shit like that

Where’s My Language App? [Yandere Shigaraki x Reader]

Title: Where’s My Language App? [Yandere Shigaraki x Reader]

Synopsis: You don’t know who he is. You don’t even know what he’s saying.

Just a short lil thing inspired by some recent posts from @stupid-sloot-headcanons​ on a darling with a language barrier.

Word Count: 1722

Notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, English-speaking reader/language barrier

You don’t know who he is. You don’t know why he took you. You don’t even know what he’s saying. Not that he’s said all that much since you woke up in a dimly lit room, arms bound in front of you tightly with rope that has gone from itchy to uncomfortable and now bordering on painful as your circulation has waned.

It’s been… three days? Four? You’re not sure. There’s nothing to accurately measure time with. Only the comings and goings of the man who kidnapped you, which don’t seem marked by any particular time of day, give you any sense of time passing.

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Aizawa is addicted to making you cum. Sometimes he wakes up so riled up from you softly sighing and nuzzling into him all night, from being tense and pent up all week, that he starts to finger you first thing. You might try and push him off, laughing, saying that you're not even awake yet, but he'll just mouth at your neck while his long fingers spread you open and coax sweet, soft arousal from you. He makes you cum once on his fingers and then again on his cock, bucking into you slowly, dragging it out. You're more than ready for breakfast after that, and while you brew coffee and he makes food he keeps coming up to you to stand behind you, grope at your ass and tits, kissing your exposed shoulders. You realize that it's gonna be one of those days and make a bigger pot of coffee. He tugs you back into the bedroom after you spend half an hour with your plants, pets and whatnot, and locks the door. He fucks you rough this time, pinning your wrists above your head and watching your tits bounce, telling you how sexy and juicy your body is, how much he wants to never let go of your plush softness, how much he wants to bury his cock in you every moment of every day. He edges himself for what feels like two hours, moaning that he doesn't want it to end, wants more. He makes you orgasm around him by rubbing at your clit while he pounds into you, and the feeling of you squeezing around him, your moans and whimpers, your strangled "Ah...S-Shou!" makes him see stars. His balls tighten up and he can't take it. When he finally cums inside you, your pussy quivering around him from the pretty pretty moans he grants you, he just keeps going. His stamina is insane and you're delirious. He fucks his cum deeper inside you and this time goes slow, almost lazy. He lies on top of you, his tongue in your mouth, panting, praising you. You're my good girl, so sweet for me, so tight. I've been fucking you for hours and you're still fluttering around me. Are you that needy for me? Say it, kitten, say you're desperate for me.. You cum around him with a gentle mewl and a rolling, languid shaking. There's not much energy left in you and your pussy is a little numb from the friction, but you still want him. You still get wetter and wetter when he groans or rolls his eyes. Aizawa is tired too, but he wants to see you cum again. Just one more time, for him, please. He knows you can. You're almost crying from overstimulation, your pussy raw and puffy. He gets comfortable between your legs and latches onto your clit, sucking it so gently that you cum easily and tears spill out. You're still shaking and moaning when he crawls back up your body for a kiss. You beg him to stop now, you need rest. He promises you can have anything you want for cumming so pretty for him - his dick twitched and swelled from your sounds and taste. You're hungry, so he orders food and you cuddle while it arrives. After you both eat and rest a bit he might just get another couple orgasms out of you. He knows you can do it for him.

men who look so clean in suits but who will fuck you to filth

“that character is problematic” i am sick and twisted. next

not to be a hedonist but. pleasure IS the whole point, my loves. we are made for pleasure. humans have not survived out of spite or sheer grit or simply to make more humans. we live for pleasure. the pleasure of licking the last delicious crumbs off your fingers and feeling sunlight on your skin and massaging a loved one's shoulders. we're made to fill our bellies with delicious food, to nap in soft grass, to touch each other in joy and comfort.

there is no shame or guilt in our bodies doing what they were made to do. and we are made for pleasure.

Long black hair ? Anime men ? Kinda cold or crazy ? Boom I simp.

A PROPOSITION.

Minors and ED blogs DNI. Ageless blogs will be blocked. Do not repost or recommend my work anywhere.

Synopsis. Adding sex to the mix doesn’t seem too bad of an idea when your long term friend Gojo Satoru gives you a taste of the experience — conveniently enough, on your living room couch.

WC. 5.4k

Genre. NSFW.

Warnings. Alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, overstimulation, oral (male + female receiving), vaginal sex, slight dacryphilia, praising, couch sex, multiple positions (missionary, doggy etc), tummy bulge, biting (hickeys), squirting, choking, creampie, aftercare.

MASTERLIST

“This has to be a joke.”

You were seated opposite to him on your couch, your back leaning against the arm of it with him mirroring your position, your thumb running over the rim of the beer bottle in your hand. It was one of the many nights you two would frequently have on a weekend – takeout with some drinks and maybe even a movie before you’re both passed out on your living room floor. Dressed in just a tank top and pyjama shorts – you were halfway through your second drink when Gojo had suggested one of the most absurd ideas that had ever occurred to you, and you were starting to think that maybe you should tell him to slow down with the alcohol before he begins to spew more impulsive thoughts.

“Why would I joke about?” Gojo replied nonchalantly.

“Well, it is you we’re talking about here.”

He rolled his eyes at that, huffing a strand of white hair away from his face before locking eyes with you, “I wouldn’t joke about that with you, maybe with Nanami but–“

You shook your head, lifting a hand up to stop him, he pursed his lips immediately at that. “Satoru–“ you started with a sigh, “Do you..do you understand what you’re saying right now? Do you understand what you’re asking me here?” Your voice did not match the playful tone of his, his eyebrows slightly pinching in together in seriousness.

“Of course I do. I’m not an idiot.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m honest.” He retorted, “And you’re in denial.”

You barked out a laugh at that, “Denial? How?” Gojo only smirked in response, clearing his throat before beginning to crawl towards you. You raised an eyebrow at his approach, wondering where this was going. “You’re full of shit if you say you haven’t thought about it too.” He said, his hand using the back of the couch to support his weight while the other rests on the arm of the couch you’re leaning on.

Throwing your head back in a laugh, you patted his shoulder in amusement once you looked back at him. “I admire your confidence – truly, Satoru. But I think you tend to forget something.” You stated with a sympathetic sigh, your finger brushing the collarbone peaking through his shirt, before drunkly gripping his collar and pulled him towards you, your breaths mingling. “I’m not one of your play things. I’ve known you for years – I know you like an open book. So whatever poor attempt this is to try and lure me to your bed,“ you paused to kiss your teeth “–it’s not going to work.” You finished, before leaning back again on the arm of the couch, a triumphant smirk on your face as you rendered him speechless.

Failing to hear a response from him, you initially thought the conversation was over as you took another swing of your beer. However, your eyebrows shot up as you nearly choked on your drink once you felt his hand on you calf, fingertips having a feel of your skin. You looked back at him, his eyes glued on your leg as he shook his head with a dark chuckle. “This is where you’re wrong, peach.” He squeezed your calf before it began to dangerously rise up to your knee, thumb rubbing your skin. “If you did know me, then you would know I wouldn’t mind having you bent over my knee any day now.”

You sucked in a breath, unsure whether if your face was hot from the alcohol or his words. Gojo’s cheeks were flushed red from his drink, the tip of his tongue poking out to wet his lips, his eyes fixed on yours. “You’re a smart girl, but not smart enough if you can’t seem to use that pretty head of yours when you’re around me.”

“Satoru–“ you shook your head, gulping. Every drop of confidence you had in your voice earlier had suddenly dissipated. “Why..why are you telling me this?”

“I want to fuck you.” He blatantly replied, “I’m not one to beat around the bush. You should know that since you claim to know me so much.” he huffed in slight annoyance. To say there was sexual tension between you two ever since you met was an understatement. Flirty remarks, teasing touches and even drunken pecks were shared here and there but nothing ever beyond that. You were both part of the same friendship group after all, and were pretty much the only ones out of said group who haven’t hooked up with each other yet.

“Fuck me and disregard me like you do with the others?”

He shook his head immediately at that, his face lacking any form of amusement. He was serious, for once. “There’s a difference. You’re my friend, I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“It just..it sounds like a bad idea to me.” You sighed in response, the rim of your beer bottle suddenly being the most interesting thing in the world to look at, “It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to, [Name].” His voice caught you off guard in the eerie silence as you met his gaze again. “But I’m not going to pressure you into something you don’t want. It’s just something that’s been on my mind for a while, so I thought you should know.” He finished before pulling his hand away, the place where his hand resided on your leg suddenly felt cold as he laid back on the arm of the couch opposite to you, his feet grazing yours.

Gojo Satoru was idolised by the public. Women wanted him and men wanted to be him (some times they wanted him too). Gossip from stranger mouths would spring every week on not only how he looked like a god, but also how he was one in the sheets. So why not? You think. Why not relieve the sexual tension once and for all and see whether if those said rumours live up to his name by having a taste yourself?

“If we’re going to do this–“ you confidently spoke, making his head snap up towards you at your sudden change in heart. “–Our friends can’t know. And I mean no one can know, not even Geto. I’m not interested in us being another experiment to them.”

“Cross my heart, my lips are sealed.” He smiled, “Better be.” You murmured, before placing your beer bottle on the coffee table. Your gaze met the mischievous glint in his eyes, his hand patting his thigh as he beckoned you to come closer, “Come here.”

You licked your lips, finding yourself crawling towards him at an agonisingly slow pace. His eyes shamelessly eyeing your chest as it peaked through your tank top. You stopped in between his legs, Gojo’s hand finding its way to your cheek as you looked up to him. “Have you thought about it?” He asked quietly.

You blinked at his question, there was no point of lying. You’ve always wondered – wondered how his calloused hands would feel all over your body, how his lips would brush over your skin before sinking his teeth in and leaving a love bite, how his hair would tickle your ear when he’d bury his face into the crook of your neck, thrusting over and over and over.

But your pride was too big to admit it out loud. So you opted for something else.

“Well, if there’s one particular thing I’ve always wondered about..” You began, your eyes darting from his bulge to his eyes. Gojo smirked almost immediately at that, “I’ll have you know I’ve heard nothing but positive feedback about my–“

“I’m not talking about your size.” You interrupted, pursing your lips to hold back a smile. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, before you watched his smile drop and eyes widen in realisation.

“My pubes? You thought about my pubes out of everything?”

You barked out a laugh at his disappointment, the previous awkward atmosphere diminishing at your conversation. “Can you blame me? Even your eyelashes are white, it’s only logical that–“

“Jesus christ.” He huffed, throwing his head back with his eyes screwed shut. He rubbed his face with both hands, before looking back at you. His lips curved upwards once again, “You’re in luck, since you’re about to see for yourself. ”

You found yourself mirroring his smirk as you sat up. You swung your legs over his, fully situating yourself on his lap. Gojo’s hands immediately resting on your hips. “You better not make me regret this.”

“First of all–“ Gojo said, his tone flat as his palm collided with your bum harshly, making you jump in place. “You don’t talk to me like that, peach.” His nickname for you rolled off his tongue almost condescendingly – almost carrying a different weight this time.

He leaned forward, watching you gulp. Your lips slightly parted as small breaths left your mouth, your eyes flickering between both of his eyes. The blue sea that inhabited his orbs refused to look anywhere else as he watched your walls slowly crumble down, almost as if they were daring you to look away. Gojo leaned his head towards your ear, his lips brushing against your earlobe as he whispered, “I’d behave if I were you.”

He backed away, but stayed closed enough to brush your nose against his. You closed your eyes, feeling his lips envelop yours in a slow kiss, a hand finding its way behind and up your back, fingers trailing up and down your spine once he slipped his hot tongue into your mouth. His fingers trailed upwards, before gripping the back of your neck and pushing you deeper against his lips, eliciting a small whimper from you. He pulled away, a small pop! heard as your lips separated.

“Yeah?” Gojo asked with a small smile, thumb running across your already hot cheek, you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, a small smirk on your face. You nodded eagerly before yanking him from his collar towards you, lips meeting his forcefully as they moulded against each other, your tongues dancing in a sweet harmony. Your arms wrapped around his neck – breathing fast, heart rate faster. He gripped your hips tightly, and you slightly winced against his lips as you felt his fingers digging into your pelvic bone.

You felt his growing bulge underneath you, poking you through your shorts and encouraging you to roll your hips against his, your pelvises directly aligned as you moved in a wave-like motion. Gojo’s grip around your frame tightened, feeling a small vibration against your lips once he let out a low moan. Chest against chest, your hardened nipples protruded through your tank top and rubbed against his clothed torso with each movement.

His hand moved down your stomach, slipping inside your shorts and reaching your panties. You continued grinding against his fingers as they teased your clothed clit in the same pace. You pulled away to breathe for a second, gasping against his lips at the growing feeling in your cunt before pressing them back to him. Gojo responded immediately, the sounds of lips smacking and kissing resumed as he felt a patch of wetness in your panties.

“Satoru.” You breathed out once you pulled away, “Want you in my mouth.”

He retracted his fingers, “Yeah? Want my cock down your throat?” he spoke teasingly, you only hummed eagerly before taking the liberty to crawl off his lap. Laying on your stomach between his legs and perched your ass up. You pulled his sweatpants and boxers along the way, his hard dick slapping his stomach, the tip flushed red and decorated with a white ring of precum – his cock mildly curved upwards and you couldn’t help but think how it would feel deep inside of you. However, you’re snapped out of your thoughts at something else as you eyed his cock.

Shaved. He was fully shaved. Not even trimmed, or any presence of a small stubble to give you at least a hint on whether if your suspicions were true or not. You blinked, looking back at him as he snickered.

“Tough luck. Maybe next time.”

“Next time?”

“Yeah next time–“ He leaned forward, placing your chin between the web of his thumb and index finger as he tilted your head up, his rough palm warm underneath your chin. “Because you’ll be begging for more once I’m done with you.”

Gojo leaned back comfortably against the arm of the couch, nudging his chin at you with a look of amusement, “Go on.” You fought the urge to roll your eyes at him, licking your lips and attempting to grab his shaft before he stopped you by gripping your wrist. “Wait–“ he murmured, and you restrained yourself from huffing impatiently. “You have an eyelash on your cheek.” He noted, squinting his eyes at your face, his thumb and forefinger pinched at something on your cheek before retracting his hand, showing you the short curved hair on his index finger.

“Wanna make a wish?” Gojo cooed, grinning almost childishly at you. The devil resting on your left shoulder whispered lewd thoughts into your ear as you smirked. You fluttered your eyes shut, pretending to give yourself a hard thought before opening them and blowing your eyelash away. Gojo opened his mouth to speak, probably to spew another remark before you wrapped your lips around his finger, nipping at his fingertip before swirling your tongue around his digit.

“Shit..” He breathed out shakily, watching you suck in his finger further down your throat as his knuckle reached your lips. You blinked at him, pulling your lips off his finger before wrapping your hand around his cock. You flicked your tongue against the ring of precum, humming in satisfaction as Gojo’s hand brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, before landing on the back of your skull with his thumb rubbing in circular motions against.

You wrapped your lips around his tip, flicking it with the tip of your tongue before giving his cock long licks across his length, stopping at his balls and taking one into your mouth. Your tongue barely gave Gojo time to breathe as you watched him throw his head back, his swollen, pink lips forming a pout. His fingers dug into your scalp as you gave him a particularly hard suck. You gave him a second to recompose before fully taking him into your warm mouth, his girth stretching your lips far and wide. The heat from your breath making him throb in anticipation.

“Fuck.” He sighed out, looking back at you as you hallowed your cheeks around him. “You love this, don’t you?” You moaned around him in response, giving him a quick nod with his cock in your mouth before flattening your tongue along his length. The salty sweet taste of him mixed with your own saliva made you bob your head up and down agonisingly slow.

His arm snaked past your armpits, pulling you off him with a gasp. Your chin wet from your own spit, his large hands cradling your face as he kissed you hard and deep, his hot tongue finding its way back into your mouth and having a taste of his own precum.

“Do you have a condom?” You heard him say as you pulled away with a pant, eagerly pulling his shirt off as he did the same to you, “’M on the pill.” you murmured, pulling him in from his neck into another heated kiss. A squeal escaped your mouth when he pinched your ass, before he slowly laid you down on your back, not breaking away from your lips. Your arms wrapped around his neck, chest against chest. His hand yanked your shorts down, tossing them on the floor somewhere. With your panties being the only barrier left between your nude bodies, you moaned against his mouth once you felt his hardened cock rub against your clothed clit.

Gojo broke away from your lips, prepping kisses across your jaw and down your throat, leaving a trail of wet patches before latching his mouth onto your breast. You gasped as you felt his teeth sink in softly around your nipple, running his tongue across the area before giving it a hard suck. His other hand reached down between your legs, applying pressure to your clit through your panties as you felt sweat form along your hairline.

“Stop teasing.” you sighed out, making Gojo pull away. “You expect me to make it easy on you?” He retorted with a small chuckle and a shake of his head, his breath fanning your face as the smell of beer invaded your nostrils. “That’s not how it works, peach.”

“I expected you to fuck me like you mean it, not lie through your teeth.”

“Lie?” He raised an eyebrow, his teeth slightly clenched. “You think I’m messing?”

“Are you gonna prove me wrong?” You continued to press him on purpose. He only smirked in response, and for a minute you nearly regretted letting those words slip out of your mouth.

“Oh I will,” He paused to pull your panties down, the flesh of your hips that's been squeezed by the fabric breaking free, your pussy lips already glistening from your own wetness, “I’m gonna fuck you until you cry.”

He grabbed his own shaft, leading it towards your cunt. His tip sticking into your entrance only a little bit before pulling back and spreading your slick across your labia and to your clit, you whined at the sensation underneath him, biting your tongue to stop yourself from begging for some sort of friction from him, and you almost thanked the gods above once you felt him push in.

Your mouth hung open as he inserted himself, your pussy lips swallowing him whole as his girth stretched you with every inch that pushed in, Gojo moaned on top of you, hands digging into your waist as you bent your knees. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, staying still for a second once he fully pushed in, sighing out a low "fuck.“ before you felt a tap against your thigh. "Bring it up." he breathed out against your neck, his hot breath making goosebumps rise on the arms wrapped around his back.

You lifted the leg that's inside the couch upwards, "A little higher - that's it." Gojo sounded satisfied once your leg rested over of the back of the couch, you took the liberty to move your other leg onto the floor, your toes grazing against the carpet as you found yourself spread wide for him as much as you can. "Satoru–" You whined out.

"I know, baby. I know." He said, before pulling back and burying himself inside of you again, he snapped his hips with every moderate paced thrust, your wetness making it easier for his cock to slide in and out, the curve of his cock kissing the spot that's etched deep into your cunt. “You feel so good, so warm and snug and–fuck.” Gojo cursed.

It’s almost as if his hands couldn’t get enough of you – first gripping hard on your breasts as some sort of anchor, then moving onto your already spread legs and pushing down on your inner thighs, making you wince as he stretched you out fully. His rough hand then grabbed the leg next to his head, making you gasp as you watched him wrap his lips around your toe, giving it a teasing suck and a lick, his eyes not breaking away from yours before one of them dropped into a wink.

Gojo’s thrusts didn’t falter for a second as he returned your leg to its previous position, resting it comfortably over the back of the couch. His rough hands snuck over your hips and behind your ass, taking your flesh between his fingers and spreading your cheeks apart as he lifted your pelvis slightly above the couch.

There was so much going one – your legs spread, his hands on your ass, his curved cock not leaving a sweet spot inside of you untouched. A thin layer of sweat covering both of your heaving bodies as you both moaned loud enough for your next door neighbour to hear.

Both of your hands reached his biceps, grabbing the muscles for leverage as his thrusts got harder and started pushing you further back into the couch, the top of your head meeting the arm of it as you arched your back in pleasure. “Mhm–Satoru..”

When you looked back at him, you could've sworn you felt the air get knocked out of your lungs at the sight in front of you. The veins in Gojo's arms protruded from his hard grip on your ass, his cock glistening with your slick every time he pulled back, his pecs flexing with every thrust. His chest was dusted with a soft shade of pink, snow hair matted against his forehead. The way his face contorted in pleasure – eyebrows pinched together, heavy pants and grunts escaping his pouty lips.

Desperately, your grip on his biceps tightened as you pulled him closer to you, making him slow down his thrusts as his hands left your ass and moved to your waist instead, dropping your lower half back onto the couch. You retrieved both of you legs and bent your knees as he snuggled in between them, with one arm around his neck and the other perched up on your elbow for support, you lifted your back off the couch as you began to hold him for all it’s worth and grind your hips against his. Gojo let out a throaty moan as you contracted and released your pelvic muscles around his cock. "Oh, god." He let out a low groan, pecking your lips as you continued to roll your hips against his, "Oh, fuck."

“You’re gonna make me cum if you keep doing that.” Gojo shamelessly admitted once you clenched around him again. He quickly shook his head, not wanting to cum just yet, he pulled his cock out, making you whine at the sudden emptiness, only to gasp as he flipped you over on your stomach. You rested your chin against the arm of the couch, emitting a high pitched “oh!” once his hand collided with your asscheek in a loud smack. You were reluctant to think his hands would leave bruises on your ass from the constant gripping and smacking, but once you felt his teeth sink into the flesh of your ass, you knew for sure he would leave his mark.

You gasped at the stinging feeling. He only hummed in response – spreading your asscheeks apart, your juices glazing your lips. Gojo found himself licking his lips at the sight, before sticking his tongue out and giving you a long hard lick, your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the feeling, your high coming back down as he tried to coax you into calmness with his mouth on your cunt.

“So wet for me.” He muttered. You felt a ball of spit fall on your asshole and drip down your cunt, making you mewl. “All for me.” His mouth latched onto your lips, tongue lapping all of your juices before sticking it into your entrance, nose brushing against your skin as he buried his face between your cheeks. Gojo’s groans vibrated against your skin, making you desperately grind back onto his face. His fingernails dug deep into your flesh as he continued to eat you up like a starved man that haven’t had a morsel of food in ages, tongue not leaving a drop of your juices drip into the couch as he drank it all up.

You whined in distress once he pulled away – he was constantly edging you and not letting you cum, and although you wanted nothing more than to have your release all over his mouth, the ache between your legs wanted to feel his cock inside instead.

Almost as if he heard your thoughts, you felt him line himself with your entrance, pushing in with his hands gripping your hips again. You were sure at this point he was leaving handprints all over your body, but the thought quickly dissipated as you heard the obscene sounds of your squelching hole take in his cock with every hard thrust.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You heard Gojo pant behind you. “Oh, Satoru.” You mewled, your arm stretched behind you and reached to clasp the hand that’s gripping your hip. “Oh, baby.”

His movements began to slow down, cock buried deep inside your cunt as he leaned downwards. You felt his chest against your back, teeth nibbling on your ear as his hands reached your breasts and gripped the flesh tightly in his palms, pinching and rolling your nipples. Gojo’s knees spread your legs just a little bit – he didn’t pull back or push himself any deeper, but had his thighs glued completely to the back of yours as he started to roll his hips, just to make sure the curve of his cock touched every inch of your insides as your walls clenched tightly around him.

“Please..” you quietly begged, his nose in your hair as he inhales your scent deeply. Gojo halts his movements, and his hands began to move to find a new territory to mark – one hand wrapped around your throat while the other slides down your stomach, his palm splayed across your naval as he pressed down onto the bulge that’s poking through you. “You feel that, peach? Do you feel me right here – right in your tummy?”

Your mouth hung open, eyes open like a deer in headlights as you sucked in a breath. You only managed to nod eagerly, screwing your eyes shut at the feeling of his cock nudging your cervix while his hand pressed down your tummy bulge. “Too deep, too much I–“ You whined, unable to formulate a coherent sentence. You felt his hand snake further down and reach your clit, two of his digits using your own slick for lubrication as he began to draw circles on your clitoris and hood, his fingertips grazing your labia in the process.

“No, no, no–“ you begged and attempted to break free from his hold before gasping once you felt Gojo’s fingers squeeze the sides of your throat, “Fuck, stay still for me.” He grunted, your clitoris wedged between his two fingers as he gave it a small pinch before resuming to his previous circular motions.

“Please move, please just–hmph!” your broken pleads were interrupted with a loud moan as you felt him suddenly pull back and push his cock in, his sudden animalistic thrusts catching you off guard. The hand around your throat moved towards your face, gripping your cheeks to face him as he pulled you into a sloppy kiss. Tongues dancing and teeth colliding in a desperate attempt to match the pace of his thrusts. A throaty moan elicited from Gojo against your lips as you clenched around him again.

With his fingers barely giving your sensitive clit a break, your long awaited orgasm started approaching like a crashing wave as you felt a familiar coil in your abdomen. “I’m gonna cum, m’gonna–“

“Cum. Cum all over my cock.” Gojo urged in jagged, irregular breaths. You felt your throat muscles burn as you cried out in pleasure. Your long awaited orgasm washed over you, making you curl your toes as you creamed all over his cock.

Gojo’s thrusts decreased, giving you a chance to slow down your heart. You looked over your bare shoulder blade, about to ask why he didn’t cum yet, only to shriek once you felt the arms around your waist lift you, pulling you down behind with you on top of him – your back against his chest, his cock still inside of you. The sudden change in positions knocked the air out of your lungs, and before you know it, his hands reached the back of your thighs, pulling it closer to your chest and spread your legs further. Your eyes frantically widening in realisation, “Sato–oh!”

He began to fuck you from below, feet planted to support his weight. His knees bent and hips lifted as he thrusted harder with every second, you watched his cock disappear into and out of your cunt, his muffled groans against your skin as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. Your eyes began to water at the overstimulation, Gojo’s hands gripping the back of your thighs so hard you thought he was close to cutting off your blood circulation. “Ngnh, ‘Toru—!” You sobbed out, “Please!” your cries and wails fell on deaf ears. You weren’t exactly sure what you were begging for, whether for him to stop or to keep going – either way, you couldn’t get enough of him.

“One more – give me one more, peach.” Gojo grunted against your ear. Tears were streaming down your face at this point, your own hair strands sticking to the back of your neck with sweat. And then you felt it – fast stream jets of your juices involuntarily ejecting out of you right in front of your eyes as you squirted. The pornographic sounds of your squelching hole and skin slapping only made your chest hot at the lewdness of your state. “That’s it.” Gojo encouraged, “That’s my good girl.”

“Satoru,” You panted quietly, the pace of his thrusts remained unchanged as you felt him twitch inside of you. “Cum inside me, please.” your begging made his grip around you tighten, “Need to feel it, need you to fill me up.”

“Fuck, don’t say that.” He breathed out, almost pleadingly. Moans of curses and your own name spilled from his beautiful lips and reached your ears as you felt spurts of his own hot cum fill you up to the brim, strings of his own semen escaping your hole and reaching your ass as it trickled down your thighs. Both of your mouths hung upon at the sensation that washed over your sweaty bodies.

Gojo released his grip on your knees, before reaching your face and tilting your head for a few pecks on your lips. Your chests heaving almost rhythmically as you panted tiredly against each other’s lips. He lifted you off his chest to slip his cock out, and just as expected, his own milky cum began to leak out of your hole. Laying you back on the couch as he slipped out from underneath you, you heard his footsteps trail away from you and into the kitchen, your ears barely registering the sound of him rummaging through your drawers as you felt your eyes begging you for a deep slumber.

Just as promised – he had in fact, fucked you until you cried.

Your eyes shot up at the sudden feeling of wetness on your inner thighs, seeing Gojo dressed back in his sweatpants with damp paper towels in his hand as he wiped you clean. His eyes met yours – giving you a small smile before focusing back on the task at hand. You licked your already swollen lips, too tired to notice that the shirt you’re about to grab from the floor and wear was actually Gojo’s – who’ve just finished cleaning you up before dumping the sticky tissues into a nearby bin.

You sat up on the edge of the couch, your feet planted on the carpet. Your mouth was dry and your legs were aching from how far and long he’s been spreading you open. You only gave Gojo a questionable look as you watched him grab your panties off the floor and shove it into his pocket. “A souvenir.” He comically answered your unspoken question with a grin. He then grabbed the two water bottles he previously placed on your coffee table, passing you one as you eagerly accepted it, the both of you taking large gulps to quench you thirst.

“So,” You heard him speak amusingly, but you were too busy making sure you swallow every last drop of water to wash up your dry throat. You looked back at him once you finished, exhaling in content. And although his body was covered in a layer of sweat and his hair was messily stuck to his forehead – he had that mischievous glint in his eyes, his lips curved up into a smirk, your living room light adorning his toned chest and figure as he stood in front of you. The rumours were true after all, he was an Adonis that sprung amongst the sea of men.

“Still think it’s a bad idea?”

© 2021 cxmplexity – all rights reserved. Do not repost, modify, plagiarise, translate or recommend my work anywhere – that includes TikTok and any other social media platform, I do not wish to have audiences below the age of 18 to come across my work.

thinkin about when doms go "hm?" at the end of their sentence and talk in that sickly sweet condescending tone, asking questions they know you can't answer because you're just too far gone to comprehend such difficult words, drool dripping down your chin and cum leaking from your used cunt as you shamelessly grind your hips in a silent plead for more because it's never enough for a needy whore like you, is it?

Overstimulation with Vampire Gojo - Kinktober Day Nine

Satoru Gojo x Reader (NSFW)

Synopsis: You stop by to pick Gojo up on your way to Shoko's Halloween party and, when the vampire invites you inside, things take an interesting turn. One you've been pretending for years that you never wanted. One he's been waiting years for.

Warnings: overstimulation, gojo being a total fuckin dominant asshole, teasing, dirty talk, gojo makes you beg...a lot, masturbation, fingering, mention of edging, "ice play" (except it's really just gojo's cold fingers & cock cause dude's a vampire), pussy slapping, cockwarming, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Vampire!Gojo felt more fitting for the Halloween vibes. I also had way more fun writing Gojo being an asshole than I expected. Anyways, Happy Kinktober, I hope y'all like the fic!

Since you’d met him, it’d been all fang talk. At first, you tuned it out. He wasn’t the first vampire you’d interacted with. And given his power status, giving him any satisfaction in having any reaction beyond disinterest was off the table. So you ignored him. You ignored the way those sharp fangs glinted in the moonlight as his mouth tipped into a mischievous smirk. Especially the way his eyes sparkled as he goated you, trying to pull even the tiniest reaction from you.

Because he knew, beneath the surface, behind the eye-rolls and annoyed scoffs, you were intrigued. It came in an accelerated heart rate. Increased breathing. Dilated pupils. The way your breath hitched when he got close. How clearly your mind would wander when he’d tell you he could make you feel things you could only ever imagine.

Pure euphoria.

“Pretty sure I’ve felt that before,” you’d responded as nonchalantly as possible. Gojo simply laughed.

You’d been bitten before; you knew one of the side effects. You’d felt it, and Gojo knew that.

“But not from me,” he whispered. “Not from the strongest.”

You’d waved your hand in the air and ignored him, just as always. Just as you always would.

But the bastard, the amused, smug bastard wore you down. He was biding his time, waiting with hidden patience until you snapped. Watching with those eyes that bottled the summer sky and endless stars as you waited outside his apartment in a vintage nightgown. White. Innocent. The feedee to the feeder. His idea. Then he could go to the costume party without having to disguise his fangs. It was the perfect plan. Until he opened the door dressed in a white shirt, half the buttons undone, chest exposed, and tight black pants that left nothing to the imagination. His head cocked to the side as your stare lingered, and he knew he had his claws in you.

And so did you.

“Why don’t you come in?”

“I thought it was humans who had to invite the vampires into their home?”

“It is.” He chuckled, standing aside, barely giving you enough room to enter. You had to brush against him in the process, bare skin on bare skin. He wasn’t nearly as cold as you expected him to be. His laugh deepened, and you involuntarily flushed.

The loose cotton garment sashayed around you as you stepped into Gojo’s apartment, turning to face him as soon as you were three steps inside. The door closed with a quiet click behind Gojo as he perused your body. His eyes roamed over you as if the nightgown had melted to your frame.

“So? What is it you wanted me to come in for?”

The vampire smirked as he sauntered over to his cellarette and pulled out a bottle of red wine and two glasses. You crossed your arms. If you dilly-dallied, you’d never get to the party on time. That meant no wine.

Gojo seemed to read your expression.

“What? You worried about lowering your inhibitions around me?” He made a show of licking his fangs.

“I’m worried about being late to our friend’s party.”

Gojo dropped to his couch and poured one glass of wine. You followed suit. He shook the empty glass at you, and you simply held up your middle finger in response. A shrug later, and he had the bottle down on his coffee table next to the spare glass and lazily sipped the decadent drink. You frowned. You were going to be late.

“Really, Satoru, we’re going to be late.”

“Answer me one question.” He eyed his wine. “And then we’ll go.”

“What?”

“Why do you pretend to act so nonchalantly around me?”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you realized Gojo had leaned towards you. You held your breath as he let the tips of his fangs poke out from his smile. You needed to put distance between you, but with the armrest behind you, you had nowhere to go. He dragged a single finger down your cheek, trailed it along your jaw, beneath your ear, all the way down until he reached your pulse point. Sharp nails dug into your thighs, and you realized they were your own.

“What do you mean?” Your voice was tighter than you’d hoped.

Gojo canted his head to the side, eyes fixed on your neck.

“Your heart is racing,” he whispered almost tenderly. “Are you nervous, (Y/N)?”

“No,” you answered too quickly.

“Do I scare you?”

Deep down, yeah, he scared you. He was an insanely powerful otherworldly being. On some level, of course he scared you. But your heart wasn’t hammering against your chest out of fear. Not even slightly. Or, at least, not fear of him. But the growing ache you were feeling for him? That was worrisome. Especially since that resolve you’d had for the last few years was finally starting to deteriorate.

“No.”

“Then what,” he murmured as he leaned in and you felt his breath tickle your neck, “has your heart beating so fast?”

You couldn’t stop the image of Gojo lying you back on his couch, body pinning yours against the couch cushions, and sinking his fangs into your neck. Just one of many fantasies that have played out consciously or subconsciously. Whether his hands roamed your body, his hips rolled between yours, there was always one thing in common: Gojo bit you.

And you’d be damned if you didn’t do the same thing you always did when you thought about that. You mentally cursed the cracks in your resolve as you lifted your hand to your mouth, gently touching your canines, wondering what Gojo’s felt like.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” His mouth grazed your ear, and you sucked in a harsh breath.

“We should get going, we’re going to be-”

“If you say late one more time, (Y/N), I swear I’m going to sink my fangs into you and suck you dry.”

Curse the image that his words made you think of. Curse the ache that it made you feel.

Curse the delay that it caused because Gojo jumped on it.

“Oh.” He sat his glass down and brought his other hand up to your jaw, leaning forward until his chest pressed against yours. “Is that something you’d like?”

“Gojo.” His name was a warning.

“Usually, you have some retort, some smart-ass remark.” He dropped his mouth to your neck and pressed a feather-light kiss to it. “But it appears you’ve gone tongue-tied.”

You wanted to pull away. You wanted to push him off, but in your attempt, all you managed to do was lift your hands. Because as soon as they touched him, as soon as you felt that solid chest beneath them, all you could do was ball that soft fabric up in your hands.

For the first time, you were utterly hopeless under Gojo’s touch, and he knew it.

“Admit it.” He only hesitated a moment before you felt the faint scrape of his fangs against your skin. “You’ve been wanting me to bite you since we’ve met.”

And, damn it, you shuddered. Of all things you could’ve done, your hands tightened, your breathing grew heavy, and you shuddered.

“Party,” you blurted out.

“(Y/N).”

If Gojo’s name was a warning, yours was a promise. A promise of what he’d been saying since you’d met. A promise of pure euphoria.

“Tell me what you want.” A hand dropped to your waist and jerked you forward. Your legs parted around him. “And I’ll give it to you. You just have to tell me.”

You groaned, more frustrated than anything else. You’d already embarrassed yourself. You’d let him get this far. Fuck. Purely out of spite, you said nothing. Gojo had already gained too much satisfaction from this. From you finally starting to lose yourself in him. You wished you hadn’t accepted Gojo’s invitation to enter his apartment. That you’d bullied him until he gave in, joined your side, and the two of you made your scheduled appearance at Shoko’s Halloween party. You would’ve greeted your friends, maybe given in and danced with Gojo, gotten a tad too handsy after having a shot or two, and then gone your separate ways.

Instead, you were clutching onto his shirt like your life depended on it, trying to ignore just how fast your heart was beating--trying to slow it down, knowing Gojo was aware of it too. You shouldn’t have sat on his couch in his too-cold apartment with the last sip of blood-red wine left in his glass. You shouldn’t have thrown away years of pretending because this was going to change everything. Not just you wanting him to bite you. Just giving away that you wanted him to. That was already an arsenal accidentally gifted to the vampire. And he was always going to use it.

You had to get it together.

“The last thing I want is for you to bite me,” you spat.

But you didn’t move.

In fact, you were pretty sure you sighed as Gojo shifted until his mouth hovered over yours. His mouth that looked so damn soft. So damn tempting. Like the forbidden fruit, the Devil whispering in your ear, telling you to just take a tiny little taste. No. To let him take a taste. Let him feast. Let him take.

But you’d never admit it. Not to him. You’d never do that. But you didn’t push him away when he hovered there. And you certainly didn’t fight nearly hard enough when you felt yourself pressing up until your lips met his. You felt weightless as your mouths met. The kiss was the closest to chaste you’d imagined Gojo could muster.

He sighed against you, mouth parting just enough to tease what was going to come. He was restraining himself, barely able to hold back his grin as you held him against you, surely wrinkling his shirt. Then, when his own resolve crumbled, and your mind had just begun to process soft, delicious, addicting, he smiled, and you felt his fangs prick your lips.

If you’d known this was how good it felt to kiss Gojo, you would’ve done it ages ago.

And that thought grew tenfold when he let his grip slip, and he became hungry. Dominant. Determined. His teeth captured your bottom lip, tongue soothing the sting, as he tipped your head back. The hunger, it was like he’d been wanting this just as long as you had. Like he’d been waiting--praying, if vampires did that--for you to finally give in. You were sure you could’ve cracked a Dracula joke there, but all you could hear was Nanami’s monologues about Nosferatu, cinematic Dracula, and novel Dracula.

Gojo adjusted, tugging you onto his lap, legs splaying around him. Your head fell back as he kissed down your jaw, teasing your throat and lingering there, making your blood boil in all the best ways, and slowly undoing the tie of your nightgown. His slender fingers worked slowly, and you weren’t sure if it was to give you time to back out--which you knew was the smart decision, but since you were already in uncharted territory, you figured why not--or to drive you absolutely insane.

Most likely the latter.

His fingers grazed your chest, and you were thankful you’d decided to wear a bra. If you hadn’t, your chest would’ve given away just how needy you were. Although with all of Gojo’s keen senses and extraordinary abilities, the way he snickered as he kissed your neck told you that he was entirely clued in to how badly you wanted him.

“Let me touch you.” He toyed with the straps of your bra and pressed his hips up. “Let me show you what you’ve been missing out on for years.”

You, despite your common sense screaming at you to get up, nodded.

The groan of satisfaction and vindication that left the vampire grated on your ears, your nerves, your entire being. It was like you were drunk on him, and he hadn’t even done anything. You blamed the costume. Bastard donning some high-end version of a knock-off Dracula costume. Showed a little skin, wore some tight pants, flashed those fangs. You weren’t supposed to be this easy; you weren’t supposed to be like every other person who fawned over him.

But you hesitated. It was like you’d practically tilted your head to the side, brushed your hair away, and exposed your neck to the prick like a curious, aching dumbass you were. And he jumped on it. Pounced. You accidentally gave him an inch, and he was going to take all the miles he could. Run you ragged.

“Turn around.” You could feel his grin against your mouth and, just to spite him, you took your sweet time listening. Making sure to drag yourself over his lap in the process, rolling your hips to adjust, satisfied at the low grumble that escaped him.

But that only seemed to piss him off.

As soon as you situated yourself, his knees found themselves between yours, and he jerked your legs open. When your costume stopped him short, there was zero hesitation as he grabbed the thin fabric and tore a slit down the side. You blushed inadvertently at the action, cool air rushing your bare skin, and Gojo chuckled in your ear.

He kept your legs hooked open, holding you against him with an arm around your waist. His mouth danced over your neck, teeth caught your ear lobe, as his other hand fell between your legs. But there was no contact. He just hovered it there, the tips occasionally ticking your inner thigh. He hummed when he glanced over, eyeing your white lace underwear like you were a present waiting to be unwrapped.

“You wear those just for me?” He traced the delicate pattern of the lace, and you held your breath, trying to ignore how even just the faint touch ignited you.

“They were all I could wear with how thin the fucking costume is.”

“It’s funny,” he whispered. “They always have the maiden wear white in the movies. To symbolize innocence. Virginity of sorts before they’re bitten.”

You would’ve glared at him if you could’ve. But his fingers traded the feather-light touch that made heat pool between your legs for a pointed, purposeful one. Up and down over your cunt, sighing as he felt just how soaked you were. Your head fell back against his shoulder; each graze of your clit was agony. The momentary touch relieved the pressure only to double it when his fingers dipped lower once more. You tried to move your hips against him, chasing what he wasn’t giving you. And what was worse, you weren’t even aware that you were trying to do it until his hold tightened and he held you in place.

“Yet here you are, the image of pure desperation and need.” He slapped your cunt and you jumped. “Fucking soaked from all talk. I can only imagine how badly you want to relieve that almost painful ache.”

You thought about wrenching yourself from Gojo’s grasp, but you’d taken the first drag of that cigarette. Your entire body was shaking with need.

“Touch yourself.”

It was a command. One that was spoken in a tone as cool as his skin. Yet it made the flames erupting over your body rise.

“Give me a show, and maybe I’ll give you what you want.”

You bit your cheek as you moved. Your hand trembled as you draped it between your legs. When you didn’t move immediately, Gojo placed his hand over yours and guided two fingers over your clit. You gasped when he drew your fingers in tight circles over your clit, chin resting on your shoulder, gaze hot.

“What?” He withdrew his hand, wrapping his fingers around your wrist, making sure you didn’t move. “You needed someone to show you how? C’mon, (Y/N), I know you’ve touched yourself while thinking about me. No need to be shy.”

Each wave of pleasure you brought yourself seemed to rock your body. Gojo’s eyes on you egged you on just as much as it made your nerves spike. You couldn’t find a pace; you couldn’t get your hand to stop shaking. You tried to grind against yourself, chasing the pleasure you desperately craved, but Gojo’s arm around your waist still kept you pinned. Whenever you’d find the spot that made your eyes roll, Gojo would pull your hand away, fingers digging into your veins, no doubt getting high off of how fast your heart was racing.

You had to quiet your mind each time it wandered to what you were doing, especially who you were doing it in front of, and just how intensely he was watching you.

“Tell me,” he murmured as he pulled your hand away from your cunt for what you counted as the sixth time. “Admit that you’ve thought about me while fucking yourself.”

Never. Not in a million years.

“Do it, and I’ll reward you by making you cum until you physically can’t anymore.” He let his fingers intertwine with yours, and only his freezing skin gave away his touch mixed in with yours. “It’s easy; it’s just a few words. Here, I’ll show you.”

He licked a long stripe up your neck until his mouth brushed your ear.

“I’ve thought about you while getting off.” The arm around your waist loosened, and his hand came up to your chest. “Thinking about these tits bouncing as you ride my cock. Taking me like the good girl I know you are. Begging for me to give you more. Begging for me to bite you.”

For the first time since he’d sat you on his lap, you turned to try and see him, but a hand on your chin kept you facing forward. He’d thought about you? Like that? You thought your heart was going to explode from your chest.

“Well,” you croaked out. “Fantasies tend to be about what you can’t have.”

He barked out a laugh, dipping his hand beneath your gown, your bra, until his fingers skimmed a nipple. You didn’t need to see them to know they were hard. You arched your back as he ran slow circles around it, matching the speed he’d set between your legs. He’d retreated a tad there, however, making sure it was only you who was touching you. Free of his iron hold, you rolled your hips and unapologetically ground against yourself. Bits of cold hit you, and you chased after those. You chased after him.

“(Y/N).” He pinched your nipple. “Look down at yourself. Grinding against your hand like a fucking lust-drugged bitch. Don’t think I won’t tie you up and go to the party myself, leaving you in the agony you created for yourself. Soaked. Aching. Too proud to ask me to touch you.”

“If we’re talking about pride-”

“I’ve already admitted it, baby,” he said, voice as sharp as his fangs. “I want to see that pretty pussy take my cock, feel it squeeze around my fingers as you cum. I want to hear every sound you make when I pull another orgasm from you, even after you tell me you can’t give me another one.”

You clamped your eyes shut and groaned, your entire body shaking as you fought the internal battle. It was all pointed spears and splintered shields. You lost. You won. You spat out the words with bitter anticipation.

“I have.” But you didn’t think it was enough. The half a second pause where Gojo didn’t move solidified that. “Multiple times.”

His mouth, pressed beneath your ear, curled into what you knew was a sickening smile.

“Good girl.”

He treated the top of your costume with the same attitude as the bottom, the sound of the fabric tearing almost as jarring as his cold touch. The cups of your bra were pushed down as his hand groped and teased. His other threw your hand aside, cast away to grab onto his thigh as he snaked it beneath your underwear. You sucked in a harsh breath as his fingers grazed your swollen clit. It felt like he held an ice cube against you, and you tried to jerk away.

“Nuh-uh,” he tsked and shook his head. “Stay put.”

A throated whine left you as he pinched your nipples, going out of his way to run his fingers between your folds so every inch felt the freezing temperature before he ran tight, harsh circles over your clit. You would’ve fallen from his lap had his legs not hooked over you and held you in place. It felt incredible. It felt like too much. He already had you on edge. The last six almosts had brought you close enough, but it was embarrassing how he already had you dancing like a puppet on his strings along the crumbling edge.

“Ask for it. If you want anything tonight, you have to ask for it.” His fingers ran tighter circles, and whatever smart response you had turned into a groan.

“Can I?”

“Can you what?”

You wanted to kill him.

“Can I cum?”

“Did I hear a please?”

You cursed under your breath. You weren’t sure why you were trying to hold off your high as Gojo’s fingers worked that merciless pace, not seeming to care that you were moments away from coming undone. But you wanted to please him. The thought made your blood boil.

“Can I please cum?”

He hummed in contemplation and you wanted to scream.

“Go ahead.” He cocked his head to the side, and you felt his eyes roam over your body. The feeling tipped you over the edge. You refused to cry out his name as you came harder than you’d ever cum before, body buzzing, head light and floaty, muscles tense and sore.

Before you’d even finished, your walls still clenching at nothing as the stars you saw still sparkled in your vision, he slipped two fingers into your cunt. Your legs kicked out as they scissored and curled and stretched you. Slender, sure, but they were long. He hit places you couldn’t without a toy, and Gojo fucking knew it too. Your toes curled, and you tried to hide your face in his neck. It made him snicker.

“We’re not done yet.” His thumb swept over your clit. “Not nearly.”

You felt too hot as his too-cold fingers fucked you. You felt yourself squeeze around him, and the swiftness of your second orgasm approaching nearly threw you. The bastard really knew how to get people off. No. He knew how to get you off. The way his fingers slid into a specific rhythm. This was just for you. A personal torture he’d give just to you.

“C-Can I?” You hated that you asked him without much thought.

“Oh, already?” As if he didn’t know. “I don’t know, you got there pretty quick. You sure you want to cum again already? I don’t plan on stopping after this. You’re cumming until I get every last drop outta you, (Y/N).”

“Please,” you screamed. You couldn’t stave it off anymore. And you hated how your body tingled with excitement at what Gojo would do as punishment if you came without permission.

“If you’re that desperate.” He scoffed and slowed his fingers. “Then take it from what I give you.”

You did. You weren’t sure if he was trying to ruin the orgasm or delay it or knew exactly what his slow curls would do. But he strung you out, hard. Never, not once had your second orgasm been better than the first. Not fucking once. Yet the bastard had your head thrown back, toes curling, riding wave after slow wave as he seemed to wrap the puppet strings around your limbs and pull. You nearly bit your tongue as you ground your teeth together, unable to do anything else as you came around his fingers.

You huffed. You weren’t sure you could give him any more, and he’d only made you cum twice. But his fingers only paused for half a beat before starting up again. You let out a strangled no as his hand on your chest went to your clit. It was too much. You squirmed, and he laughed. Laughed. Then pressed on harder, faster. Tears slipped down your cheeks, nails dug into his thighs, teeth captured your bottom lip to stop the sobs.

“P-Please.” Your third orgasm was knocking on the door, waiting to enter. Or leave. It was all too much. You weren’t sure if you were begging for him to stop or to keep going.

“Ask.”

You hoped the one word would be enough of a response.

“Cum?”

Gojo’s body shook with laugher. It wasn’t.

“Full sentences, (Y/N).” He pinched your clit.

“Gojo.”

He slapped your cunt.

“Full sentences.”

“Can I cum again, please?”

“Yes.”

He rode you through your high. It almost hurt, his fingers fucking your cunt and rubbing your clit. Your throat felt raw by the end, and you weren’t sure if you’d screamed or if it was an accumulation from the last two orgasms as well. His fingers stopped and you thought you were free. Until he lifted you, angled you up on your shaky legs, and you felt him undo the button of his pants.

“Do you want it?” He pulled the crotch of your underwear to the side, pressing his tip against your dripping folds.

You hated that you nodded.

“That’s my girl,” he said, and you burned as he spread your folds. He lingered there a moment, surely watching as you dripped onto his lap, before he lined himself up. His fingers dug into your hips as he guided you down, groaning as you stretched around him. He fucking filled you. But your gasp wasn’t just from how fucking huge he was. You’d thought his fingers were impossible to handle with the cold. His cock was like when you’d left your dildo in the freezer before fucking yourself on it.

Even when he was sheathed entirely inside you, he didn’t move. He found your clit--puffy, swollen, sore--and his thumb ran over it with lazy strokes.

Three times. He made you cum around his cock three times without even moving his hips. You were jelly in his arms, soaked in your own cum, tears, and sweat. And the rare glimpses he gave you of his face told you he was obsessed with this version of you. You couldn’t give him anymore. You’d said that the last two times, but you were wrung dry. You were sure if he moved his hips, you’d combust like a vampire from Buffy with a stake in its heart.

But you wanted him to fuck you. So badly. With every fiber of your being you wanted him to fuck you. You just couldn’t lift yourself up to be able to fall back down onto his cock.

And then his fangs scraped your skin for the hundredth time that night.

“Bite me,” you blurted out. You hadn’t meant to. You’d been trying to ask him to fuck you. A Freudian slip.

He stopped over your pulse point and pressed his fangs against you. Just enough to let you feel the sharp prick.

“Beg for it.”

“Please.” It hurt your throat to talk. Your voice crackled with each word. “Please bite me. Please, Satoru.”

“You can do better than that. C’mon. Beg.”

“Fuck.” You clamped your eyes shut. “Please, I need you to. I need to feel it. That damned ‘pure euphoria.’ It’s all I think about whenever you flash your fangs at me. Please, I need it. I need to know.”

He pressed his fangs harder against you. Scraped them against your skin until you felt a satisfying burn.

“I’m so tempted--so fucking tempted--to leave you like this. A teary mess, begging for something I won’t give you.” Dread coursed through you at the thought. Silently, you willed him to keep speaking. “But I know whether I bite you or not, you’ll be back for more.”

He bucked his hips.

“Because nobody will fuck you like I will.”

He bucked again as you cried out as an almost painful wave of pleasure crashed into you.

“Nobody will get you off as good as me.”

Then he bit you. A searing hot pain, like a cold brand, focused at your neck. You sobbed, but you weren’t sure if that was from the bite or the way Gojo looped an arm around you and slammed his hips against you mercilessly. You’d been bitten before, but just as soon as you tried to recall the memories, you were hit with something you'd never gotten from other vampires. It felt like a wall of liquid pleasure. Or, in Gojo’s wording, euphoria.

It was like he’d injected it directly into your veins, and you laughed. You choked on the sound as another sob followed it, but it felt so impossibly good. Like you were floating on a cloud. Like you were stuck in a permanent state of almost that just kept getting better and better. Like you were dancing on the edge that never crumbled, leading you to a plummet that, as you eyed it, was waiting for you with billowing snow to cushion the fall.

“C-Can I cum? Please, Gojo, can I cum?”

Your voice sounded unfamiliar as you spoke. You weren’t even entirely sure that you had until Gojo responded a few moments later, his thrusts rough.

“Yes.” It was an order.

And you followed it.

You heard your scream leave you as if it weren’t your own. It was like two hands shoved you off the edge as you plummeted down towards the snow. It swallowed you; claimed you like a riptide does an inexperienced swimmer. Those puppet strings that had bound themselves to you earlier tightened and pulled like a torture device. Delicious, rapturous torture. Then they snapped. Like stray worn threads.

You came around his cock for the fourth time that night.

You didn’t even realize he came until you felt his cum leak out of you as you blinked up at the ceiling, coming to.

Gojo gave you a moment to catch your breath before he pulled out, licking over the two puncture wounds on your neck as he righted your underwear, either not caring that his cum was leaking out of you or extremely aware. Most likely the latter.

He laid you on your side as he got up and righted himself, his costume, his hair. He smirked down at you, eyeing your torn costume, tear-stained cheeks, and tangled hair. He knelt beside his couch and scoffed.

“C’mon, (Y/N), we’re going to be late to Shoko’s party.”

hi i live for your writings and ily <33 anyways can you please write something about hard!dom geto? this man has been living in my head for months and i ca't get enough of him. thanks!!

this geto is very mean i apologise

reblogs and comments are much appreciated / my jjk masterlist

running your mouth - geto x fem!reader (3.2k)

you violate the terms of the agreement you and geto have during a meeting, and that means that he gets to punish you.

warnings: not sfw. afab reader, fem pronouns. dom/sub relationship, degradation, spanking, impact play, pussy spanking, blowjobs, light choking, use of words like ‘whore’ and ‘slut’, power imbalance, no aftercare. 

It’s easy to slip up when somebody is watching you and waiting for it to happen.

For you, it’s a small mistake – you’re never supposed to interrupt Geto, but he’d thrown out somebody’s name in one of the meetings between his commanders and himself and gotten it wrong, and you’d gently corrected it. Geto’s eyes had flown over to you, dark and sharp – and he’d closed them, tipped his head to the side, and said;

“Yes, you’re right. Thank you!” A smile on his face. It hadn’t alerted anybody else in the room to how he was feeling, but you’d felt it travel down your spine like a cool fingertip. That smile, that light lilt in his dark voice – those were promises for later on tonight, and you squeeze your thighs together under the table as you think about how he’ll punish you this time.

Because the truth is that both you and Suguru Geto know that it’s not important if he remembers the names of unimportant monkeys. Both you and Suguru Geto know that your arrangement means you stick to the rules that he gives you, and if you don’t stick to them, he gets to punish you any way that he sees fit. Both you and Suguru Geto, then, know that you slipped up on purpose because you wanted him to punish you.

That makes you a brat.

And if there’s one thing Geto enjoys, it’s taming unwieldy little brats exactly like you and reminding you exactly who your master is.

He leaves you waiting in his bedroom for half an hour longer than he said he would, until you can feel anticipation fizzing in every inch of you, your legs bouncing on the floor where you’re sat on the chair by his desk. The sound of the door handle being turned makes heat spark low in your stomach, your heart skip a beat – and there he is, as handsome and unruffled as ever as he walks into the room and simply looks at you for a moment.

There’s disappointment on his face, his mouth pulled into a sneer as he heaves a dark sigh that seems to rattle through your bones.

“Oh, darling,” he says, pulling the word out slow and drawling. “What am I supposed to do with you? You know the rules. I know you know them.”

You blink innocently up at him, your heart pounding. He raises one thin eyebrow before he points at the floor in front of him.

“Clothes off,” he demands. “On your knees. You should already be there, really, begging for my forgiveness-- but you like being punished, don’t you?” He tuts, sighs, shakes his head. “Insatiable little slut. Come on. Hurry up.”

You stand up, quickly, your fingers trembling as you go to pull off your clothing. Through your clumsy movements, Geto’s mouth remains set in a straight line, his eyes half-lidded. He’s thrown off the robes that he wears whilst playing his part – now, he’s in comfortable dark sweatpants and a shirt that clings tightly to a surprisingly muscled abdomen. You try not to stare, though you always want to when he’s like this. Unguarded. Comfortable. Utterly in control--

“If you don’t get here soon,” he says, a warning tone to his voice, “I’ll add ten strikes to your punishment.”

Your underwear goes last, your fingers inexpertly pulling down straps and unclipping the hooks and eyes so that you can finally get on the floor. The floorboards are hard and uncomfortable beneath your bare knees, but you don’t complain as you put your hands on top of your thighs and look up at him, awaiting his next order.

Geto leaves the threat of what he’s going to ask next hanging in the air for a few moments as he enjoys the sight of you, helpless and docile at his feet. A hand reaches down and gently strokes over your cheek, thumb brushing your lip – and then, he hooks his thumb between your lips and forces your mouth open.

“That position suits you better than one at my side,” he sighs. “And if you hadn’t forced my hand, perhaps I’d have just used your mouth . . . well. There’s no point dwelling on the past.”

He steps away, leaving you mouth open and naked on the floor. He hums under his breath as he opens a drawer by his bed, as he pulls out – you feel your face go hot.

“Don’t move,” he says, without turning around. “Not a muscle.”

He considers the belt for a moment, and then the paddle, and finally the flogger, laying them out on his bed, tipping his head to the side once more as he decides between them. You can feel slickness pooling between your thighs, but you tense your muscles not to move no matter how much you want to squeeze them together and seek the friction you’re desperate for.

“No,” he says, in the end. “I think I’ll use my hand. I want you to look at yourself in the mirror for the next few days and see handprints shaped like mine and remember exactly what I can do to you.”

He takes a seat on the edge of the bed and crosses his knees, elegant and at home with the situation.

He crooks a finger towards you, giving you one simple command;

“Crawl.”

You swallow as you lean forward on your hands and knees, moving towards him agonisingly slowly. You know he’ll notice if you move in a way that purposely lets your thighs rub together, and you know you’ll be punished for it – but with Geto watching your every move with those sharp, dark eyes, you can’t resist. He lets out an impatient sigh.

“Five extra,” he says. “Don’t be a greedy whore.”

The way he says it makes you whine, and he shakes his head as you finally reach him again. You don’t move, yet. Geto taps his knee.

“You know what to do, don’t you?” He asks, off-handedly. “I’ve done this to you enough times. You just keep making me correct you.” A sigh as you settle yourself over his lap on the bed, your stomach pressing against an obvious stiffness in Geto’s pants. He doesn’t react to it. He’s a master of his own control.

One of his big hands takes a generous squeeze of the softness of your ass, clicking his tongue.

“Pity,” he says. “You’d been doing so well. I hope this will teach you a lesson.”

And he hits you for the first time. You didn’t even hear the displacement of air as he drew back, and you jolt at the red-hot shocks of pain that radiate from where his palm has slapped against you.

“Count,” he growls, low. “And remember to be polite.”

“Y-yes!” You babble, your head already full of cotton wool. “O-one! Thank you, Master--”

(Geto likes ‘Sir’, or ‘Master’. In punishments, he prefers the latter, and you can never get over the sound of it issuing forth from your mouth. It feels so good. So right, to be beneath and below him like this. To have dedicated every moment to what Geto wants from you.)

He lets out a little, amused noise, but does not call you anything so louche as a ‘good pet’. He’s always rough with you. Praise is few and far between, and when it does come out of his mouth it’s only after he’s fucked you so hard you can no longer even gather the strength to stand.

The second slap, on the other cheek, stings worse than the first – Geto’s strength is occasionally astounding, his palm flat and hard against your softness.

“T-two! Thank you, Master--”

You do your best to keep track of the thick and fast spanks, though Geto leaves you bare moments in between them, and your mind feels fuzzy with how hot your ass is under the rough treatment. After the twelfth spank, two of his fingers delve between your thighs, pulling open the lips of your cunt so he can look at it. You receive a sigh.

“You’re dripping,” he says. “You’re a shame to yourself. You can’t even take a punishment without needing to be fucked, darling?”

“P-please,” you whimper, bucking backwards and hoping that he’ll give you some relief from the tight ball of tension that you feel like you have trapped between your legs. “N-need--”

“I know exactly what you need,” he says. “Now. Come on. You earned twenty five strikes, and I’m not even halfway through – grit your teeth and take your punishment. I’d tell you to be good, but . . .” Another open-palmed spank, harder than the others, and your count and thanks come out a garbled mess. “Both of us know that’s out of the question, don’t we?”

You earn another five strikes for losing track at twenty three, until your entire ass feels like it’s on fire and you have to press your forehead to the cool bed-covers beneath them and try and control your breathing. You’re a mess – trembling thighs, your slick all over your legs and definitely running down to stain the fabric of what Geto’s wearing. You’re absolutely aching to have something inside of you. You feel so empty that you feel like if Geto doesn’t fuck you, you’ll die.

“Master,” you whimper, as you’re permitted to dismount his lap, and you’re deposited on your knees with Geto back above you. He raises his eyebrows, running a hand through his silky dark hair as he regards you – the pout on your face, the tear-trails that have stained your cheeks from his rough spanking. “Please--”

You rub your cheek against his knee, still looking up at him. His lips turn up at the corners, a wicked glint in his eye that makes you squirm – and then, regret squirming for how the heels of your feet dig into your poor tender flesh.

“You’re being inarticulate,” he tells you, with a small smirk. Your chin is once again jerked, Geto leaning his elbows on his knees so his face is closer to yours but still above you. “Tell me exactly what you want, if you can get your pretty little head to think for once in your life.”

You swallow. His eyes, trained on you, are so intense. Everything about the way he sits and handles you whispers that he’s in control, that he knows what he’s doing, that you’re the unimportant person in the room and you ought to know your place. You get a mean little jerk as your mouth falls open.

“Well?” Geto’s voice is a purr. “Come on. Your head can’t be as empty as all that, surely?”

Empty.

“Please—” you say, again. “Please, it hurts, I wanna--”

That’s right. The ache between your thighs, where nothing is buried and you would really like Geto’s cock. You look up at him imploringly. He sticks his lower lip out in a mocking pout.

“Oh?” He asks. “You think you deserve to be fucked after the way you acted out there? Correcting me, interrupting me, in front of everyone? Like you know anything?”

“Please,” you repeat, again. You can feel the throb between your legs in time with your heartbeat. “Sorry, ‘m sorry, Master—”

He sighs.

“Sorry’s not good enough.” He tells you. He lets go of your chin, his thumbs hooking into the waistband of his sweatpants to push the fabric down along with the underwear he’s wearing, until he’s in front of you with his cock unmistakably hard. “Show me you mean it, if you want me to fuck you.”

You nod feverishly, already leaning forward and opening your mouth. You envelope the head of his cock with your lips, your tongue brushing the slit and greedily lapping at the glistening beads of pre-come that have gathered on his tip. Geto doesn’t so much as sigh – instead, one of his hands fastens around the back of your head as a warning that he could just start fucking your face whenever he wants to.

And you know from experience that he will, if he thinks you’re doing a bad job – and then, you’ll be being punished for two transgressions, and he’ll never give you what you want. You redouble your efforts. Tracing the thick vein on the underside of his shaft that always makes his grip tighten, just a little, imperceptible. Hollowing your cheeks and taking him further down your throat than you’d ordinarily be comfortable with, just so he knows how hard you’re trying to please him.

When you look up at him with your lashes coated in little trembling diamonds, you see that his eyes are half-lidded and he’s looking at you.

“What are you looking at?” He murmurs, softly. “Aren’t you trying your hardest?”

You immediately make a noise to protest that, returning to sucking his cock with earnest. Geto continues to talk, his voice all deep and lovely, a baritone that makes you squirm like nothing else.

“See? It’s so much better when your mouth is occupied, isn’t it? I should have you like this in meetings, instead. Nobody needs to know the thoughts and opinions of a needy little slut like you when your mouth was made for sucking cock, do they?” He keeps his voice polite, despite the sharp barbs that come spilling forth every time his lips open. He’s well-mannered and cool in his temperament when he’s doing this to you. One could be forgiven for thinking from his tone that he was cooing something sweet--

“Harder.” Your head is pulled forward, practically choking you on his length until your eyes water and you feel drool drip down your chin. “Don’t dawdle. Suck it like you mean it.”

You close your eyes, trying to concentrate on nothing but the taste of Geto in your mouth and the way you have to stretch your lips around him, bobbing your head. You don’t want him to punish you again. You need him to fuck you. You practically choke on his cock with each desperate dip, the head of it hitting your throat – and then, you’re being dragged off, before he’s come.

Your entire body seizes up in excitement. If he hasn’t come down your throat and he’s still that hard, that means he has plans to come somewhere else, and you hope that it’s buried inside of you so deep that you can feel his heartbeat. He sees the hopeful look in your eyes and snorts in derision.

“Desperate,” he says to you. “You’re pathetic. You’re lucky that I prefer your tight little cunt to anything else. Maybe having to hold my come in your mouth for an hour or so would make you think before you went around opening it, hmm?”

“I’ll be good, I promise,” you say, in a rush. “I won’t do it again, please fuck me--”

“There it is again,” He sighs, hands falling behind him onto the bed. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

You clamp your lips shut, suddenly aware that your little outburst was not in the spirit of what Geto is trying to teach you. He stands, rolling his eyes.

“Get on the bed, then,” he says. “Legs spread wide.”

The position will hurt, even if the bedsheets are nicer than the floorboards on your poor, sore ass. But what it promises when you’re done is too much of a siren’s call for you to do anything but obey, your back hitting the mattress with a soft ‘whumph’ of air. You brace your feet on the edge of the bed, knees up, and display your sex for Geto. You can feel that you’re such a mess that you’re dripping, already making the bedsheets below you damp and sticky.

You’re expecting him to fuck into you, take hold of your legs and bend them against your chest and ram you until you can’t remember your own name, with that perfectly serene expression on his face. He’s done it enough times before.

You’re not expecting him to sink onto his own knees in order to bring his face closer to your dripping sex. You’re not expecting the way his eyes drink you in, not passing comment – you feel your hole flutter and clench in a mixture of embarrassment and arousal at the inspection.

You dare to think, for one moment, that he might use his mouth on you – but in the end, he simply sighs, shaking his head.

“Disgraceful,” he tells you. “Do you think nice, well-behaved girls get wet when they’re spanked? Do you think their holes are this needy whilst they’re being punished?” He slides a finger through the slit, gathering the mess on the pad of his digit. He shows you the way it glimmers in the light to shame you, before he wrinkles his nose as he wipes it on your thigh. “You never learn your lesson, do you?”

“I do, I do, please--” Your voice is breathy and whiny.

“Five of them,” Geto says, mildly – and then he’s pulled his hand back and he’s given your exposed core a harsh slap.

Your hips rock backwards at the impact. It’s a mix between pleasure and pain – his hands finally touching where you’re needy and burning, but abusing how sensitive you are to any graze of his fingers. You whine into the ceiling, half-pain, half-enjoyment.

“That’s more like it,” Geto murmurs. “That sorry look. Cry for me.”

The second slap. This one is harder, and the noise makes you cringe – but it makes your hole clench, your heart skip a beat. You’re panting.

Third. Fourth. You’re crying as he pulls back for the fifth, your poor sensitive cunt unused to being treated so roughly – sure, Geto fucks into you like you’re nothing more than a sleeve for his cock, but he’s never done this before. The new sensation has you reeling.

Five. His palm is soaking wet with your own arousal, your chest heaving. He gets back onto his feet, wiping his slick hand on your bare skin once more. It’s embarrassing, how saturated the palm of his hand is with your slick. You feel so sore – you’re shivering, shaking, your mind hazy with the pain.

Geto’s fingers scoop you by the hips, nails digging into the earlier places he’d spanked on your ass so hard that you feel tears well in your eyes. Those bruises are still red-hot, and the feel of him has just reminded you of their pain. Your entire bottom half feels like it’s on fire.

Geto’s hard cock nudges the cleft between your lips, where the dull throb of pain hasn’t ceased.

He thrusts into you in one long, hard motion – his balls slapping against your ass with a noise that echoes in the room along with your cry. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts--

“What’s the matter?” He asks you, as he quickly slides into a punishing rhythm, letting the sharp jut of his hipbones add another layer of pain to the experience.  His fingers continue to flex, digging into the rapidly bruising area of his spanks with every slick glide of his cock. “I thought you wanted me inside of you?”

“Just the tip,” he begs you, his voice rough and deep. “Please, baby, just keep the tip of my cock warm for me, ok?”

And how can you say no to that?

He has you on your back, legs spread wide to accommodate his body, his big hands on your thighs. And when he slides in, your slick making for a smooth glide, you squirm at the feeling of being so stretched and full. 

“You – you said just the tip,” you whimper, clenching your thighs around his hips, not knowing whether you want to press him closer or push him away. 

And he leans over your body, cradles your head and neck is his big palm and lifts you just a bit, just enough to see where he’s inside of you, and the inches and inches of cock left to go.

“It is just the tip, baby, see?” he coos, his voice still lust-rough, but sweet.

He rolls his hips back and then forward again, fucking you with just the head of his dick, stretching your pretty pussy around the mushroomed tip.

“Unless you want more?” he says, sliding in just another inch, making you arch your back and moan, shutting your eyes tight to stave off the tears. “How about just half?”

vilf (villain I’d like to fuck)

The feminine urge to be fucked stupid by a bulky, dominant and protective fictional man with big tits.

Hi! Can I please request a scenario of a female reading waking up in the morning with Aizawa after sex ~together~ for the first time (he's not her first partner, I understand you don't write s/o FIRST times). They've been in a relationship for a few months, but finally moved to the next level of intimacy last night. Reader is just lazily admiring Aizawa, to which he then wakes up and spends a quiet/pleasant morn together - & if you're okay with it, lead to some good ol' morning smut? Thanks!

Ah, last request for this blog (’: Let’s go out with a bang (pun intended), shall we?

Rated Lemon

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Keep reading

stop flirting with the enemy, damn

When Adam bit the apple he did it because he trusted Eve. Because he loved her. Adam bit into the apple because the woman he loved told him to, no matter what God said. No matter the rules of heaven. What’s heaven to a woman’s love anyway? What’s God to your wife? The first sins of humanity, were trusting others. Eve trusted a snake, Adam trusted Eve, and I trust you. Maybe that’s a sin, just like the first couple. Maybe everyone’s right about us and we’re sinners and we offend God. But like I said, what’s God to a woman’s love anyway? What has heaven got that I can’t find sitting next to you on a cool autumn morning?

I should be on someone’s lap getting my neck kissed and ass grabbed right now 🙄

I love the stuff you got here! Can I request for a yandere Dabi with a feisty darling? Thank you so much in advance!

Thanks for reading! Enjoy ^^

»»———————— ♡ ————————««  

All the kicking and screaming truly was a vain effort, but Dabi liked watching you trying your hardest nonetheless. Your body was writhing beneath him, legs pulled in to keep his hovering form from descending onto you, and your elbow in his throat to keep his mouth from closing in as well. “You stink!” you complained loudly, and Dabi smirked, knowing full well he didn’t take the time to wash up after the last mission.

Knowing it would bother you even more.

Sure, he could have been nice. Let you get accustomed to him through time—but why would he? It was so much more fun to destroy your will through the desperation that came with being unable to do anything against your captor. Dabi knew you cried yourself to sleep when you thought he was out for the day. That you got up to try and unlock the door. He even mumbled ‘in his sleep’ just to enjoy the seconds of silence as you held your breath. While you weren’t a game to him, this situation sure was.

However, by now, he wouldn’t have minded if he could have had just one calm evening with you. It didn’t matter to him that you were here for a week already or that he was crossing boundaries you wished him not to. Every time you spit into his face, Dabi felt the same thrill he only knew from burning enemies. But what you didn’t realize was that you were enabling him to do those cruel things even more. And frankly, despite the fun he was having, it was slowly getting exhausting to deal with you. Not even he knew how long he could keep up playing nice with you when you were challenging him every second you two were together.

“I didn’t think it would be so much trouble,” he sighed to no one in particular. Rolling his eyes away, even your struggles ceased for the moment as you raised an eyebrow. Luckily, you didn’t know what he meant, or you might have laughed at him. Still, truth be told, the whole ’falling in love’ seemed easier when presented in movies and the occasional manga he was handed.

Catching your free hand suddenly pushing into his face, Dabi grinned, sticking out his tongue to give it a lick, risking your reaction to his taunt. Repulsed, you pulled back, instead building a fist, but throwing your shoulder into his direction with it, you neglected the push on his throat, allowing him to dodge the punch by kissing you. See? Much better, he thought, nibbling at your teeth while your struggles grew angrier.

It had been a while since he got to kiss you, but your lips were still as soft and plush as he remembered them. Your taste lingering on his tongue almost made him proud, reminding him that you were using his toothbrush in an attempt to clean your teeth at all. He wasn’t that terrible of a boyfriend, was he? After all, he not only saved you from the mundane life you were slipping into, but he also cared for your well-being enough to allow you to use his property.

“Have you struggled enough?” he taunted you, only moving his lips inches away from yours to talk. Crushed under the weight of his body, and perhaps shocked by the sudden affection, you had stopped fighting for the moment, only to bare your teeth in frustration, snapping for him. Today wasn’t the day you were going to become docile—that much he understood.

Pity, really, but Dabi would survive it. Leaning down to escape your futile tries to bite him with another kiss, he reached up to your hand buried under his body until you were flinching too hard to return his affection. The singeing heat of blue flames licking at your wrist was enough to bring tears to your eyes. No matter how feisty, aggressive, and - in a cute way - defiant you were, in the eyes of danger and pain, you were nothing at all.

Not like Dabi didn’t know what he was getting into before capturing you. Diligent worker, just defender of society, and as sweet as a piece of cake. Mind you, he didn’t only mean your ass with that. Those were the three things he used to describe you when he asked for permission to bring you in. Shigeraki only, understandably, sighed at that, shaking his head as if Dabi’s arguments hadn’t been convincing, but it was one of the only favors he ever asked him for. One could think that you were a bit more grateful for his hard work, but no, at the end of that memory, you were crying.

“God, I hate you!” you screamed at him, tugging your wrist out of his grip. Oops, he thought, seeing the burn at your skin, and feeling the heat as well as you pulled it close to his face while covering your eyes. That would leave another mark for sure.

“That’s rough, sugar,” he pouted, trying to shove your arm away from your face, but you only stirred beneath him, trying to turn to the side. Now you were sulking. Even if it should have been him sulking after you’ve been mean to him all week. It wasn’t Dabi’s fault that he fell in love with you. Really, it wasn’t anyone’s, but you sure liked to blame him for it. But in the end, it was always him who was left scarred by your words, his heart throbbing sadly at how cold you were treating him.

However, as it seemed, you understood your place after the threat he burned into your wrist. Getting back onto his palms with an arm on either side of you, Dabi watched as you turned over, finally free of his weight. Pulling in your legs, your once so tough demeanor seemed to change. When you put down your arm, he could see how you were trying your best not to meet his eyes, staring stubbornly at the wall, but you still hadn’t lost your fire. Just like his blue flames raging all over you when you tried to defy him, your eyes were burning with the flames of hatred and frustration. Those flames had yet to turn into ash, but Dabi was happy to see you so alive after all.

Chuckling to himself, he gave you a disgusting smooch to the cheek. Too long, too wet, too unwelcome to be anything but a statement. “I won,” that’s what it said, and the flames in your eyes only began to stir more from the arrogance Dabi was displaying to you.

“You’ll find out it’s not too bad with me soon enough,” he promised, stretching as he got off you. You didn’t move now, didn’t react to his words, and it was a behavior he knew all too well by now. Funnily, you were trying to scold him by ignoring him. It wasn’t working, but it amused him enough to wear a broad grin on his lips. Have it your way if you so pleased, but Dabi decided to take a shower with your shared toothbrush to let off some steam. There was so much more he could do to you that you feared to even think about. So much more that he could break your feisty attitude with. But he was waiting to use it at the right moment. The moment it would make the biggest impact on your life.

The pillow hitting his back only made a sad ‘thud’ before falling to the floor. Looking back over his shoulder curiously, Dabi saw you sitting on the bed, your arm still up in the air after your throw and lines of fallen tears adorning your cheeks. Ah, your cuteness knew no limits, frustration plastered all over your face. Frustration with him, your situation, everything. You hated him, and Dabi loved you for it.

Picking the pillow up from the ground, he sauntered back towards you. A short, rampant outburst of blue flames cooked the poor fabric and feathers into mere dust that dispersed in the room. His grin only grew uncomfortably broad, staples tearing at the charred skin. Your eyes grew wide like a deer in the headlights as you looked at him, almost as if you had a sudden realization.

How dumb of him to not notice earlier when he was toying with you.

Notice that the moment he had been waiting for was already there.

im at my sexiest when im wearing all my rings & my multiple earrings clink together when i take a step

I'm like, always in an Enji mood so like lmao hi 🧍

I'm always in the mood for Enji too 🥴

18+ like ways

Just thinking about cockwarming him after a long day. He'd pull you down into his lap, whether he's on the couch or at his desk finishing paperwork, and tell you to you let him slip inside. How he just needs to feel you squeezing around him to relax a little, how irresistible you are, his perfect little Angel. He's always a tight fit. And with him not moving it was nothing but delicious preasure. The slight bump in your belly from Enji being buried so deep inside of you only causing your pleasure to grow.

"I never said you could cum," Enji growled when he felt you tighten around him and try to grind down, "be patient, let Daddy relax and I'll fuck brainless in a bit, Love".

can i ask for something fluffy for Mori with a s / o who enters the room in the middle of a meeting asking for affection?

♡ Mori Ougai ♡

The Port Mafia held countless meetings, even if they were usually "check up" meetings of sorts, just making sure that everything was in order and was running smoothly. The most serious meetings were held when the Guild was still attacking Yokohama but thanks to its demise, meetings have thankfully become a lot less tense. They are all still regardless very, very boring.

As the head of the Port Mafia, it is Mori's duty to attend every single meeting regardless of how he feels, and he usually has no qualms about this. Mori cares about his subordinates very much and he's happy to see that they're all in good spirits... That doesn't change the fact that Mori wants his darling there next to him, her presence always so comforting. Mori usually can't afford himself the luxury of dozing off on these meetings but whenever the executies start bickering is when Mori starts twirling his scalpel and his mind immediately goes back to you - it's always you, isn't it? Mori laughs at himself a little, amused by the fact that one person can make hin feel so soft and gentle. The shouts of the executives fills the room but Mori blocks them out, somehow. He didn't even notice that the commotion had died down a bit, his little dove entering the room.

He still had that lovesick grin on his face once he saw his little dove, even if it was laced with a little bit of confusion. You never really exited your room, let alone enter a meeting without him summoning you. But when your arms were draped around his, a small pout on your pretty lips as you sat on his lap, Mori knew - you wanted his attention.

He can't help but to coo a little, a soft blush creeping its way on his pale cheeks. Some people in the room are quiet, most groan, while others also think it's cute. They wouldn't admit that out loud though...

The meeting continues on, but Mori is obviously in a much better mood. He wouldn't mind if you did this more in the future, regardless of the severity of the meeting. Sure, he might scold his darling but never punish over something like this. Who knows, his beloved might get a dress or two, or three...

shoutout to all the people who read and consume nsfw instead of fluff because the intimacy of being loved gently is scarier than sex 🙏🏽