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₊ ˙ ⊹ . (soft) boxer ! sukuna ❤︎ suggestive, he calls you doll

sukuna ryomen finds an enormous amount of comfort in you — from your touch to your kisses to the way you look at him.

it is close to inexplicable, definitely foreign.

(most probably because he has never had a serious relationship like this, only fling after fling and the occasional situationship that never works out for this reason or that. but it has been working out with you, and god is he grateful.)

there is something about you that draws him in — perhaps, the way you hug him. gentle grip and a mumbled you’re always so warm that makes him hug you closer.

or, maybe, it is the way you kiss him — smudge your lipstick all over his mouth and breathlessly giggle at the fact he is wearing your favorite shade of berry; the way you run your fingers through his hair and scratch at his back as he thrusts into you — how you wrap your legs around him to bring him impossibly closer, mumble into his ear that he feels like no other.

and the way you look at him — how your brows furrow in concentration as you clean his bloody lip after a nasty fight, but worry swirls in your eyes. how your eyes go all hazy and roll into the back of your head only to look at him again as he eats you out has to be one of his favorite things in the whole wide world.

you are easy to love.

the feeling comes naturally to him.

and he wants to let you know.

your feet are on his lap, your face is hidden by a book he had picked out from your shelf (a tradition you have started, where he picks whatever he wants from your mini library and you read to him).

he stops massaging your left foot, brings it up to his mouth tenderly and plants a kiss on your ankle, trails those kisses up to your calf until you hum and cover your face with the open book.

“you’re so distracting, ‘kuna.”

and the king of the ring smiles.

“c’mere.”

and you smile underneath the book before obliging — then you sit comfortably on his lap, wrap your arms lazily around his neck as he gives your ass a grope with his big, rough hands.

sukuna ryomen can count how many times he has told someone i love you on one hand.

the feeling in his chest is warm like the sunlight that pools in your bedroom in the morning, exhilarating like winning a match, heavenly like being in between your thighs. it’s overwhelming and all consuming — like you.

you kiss him, run your fingers through his pink hair and grind ever so slightly down on his bulge.

“you mean so much to me, sukuna.”

god, he has to let you know before his heart malfunctions.

“and i love you, doll.”

you smile into his mouth. “i love you, too, ‘kuna.”

who needs heaven when he has you?

#romas sukuna makes me ill #sick to my stomach even

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Nishinoya made this shirt for him

#OBSESSED

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Overnight Lovin’

Sakusa Kiyoomi x Reader

cw: smut, alcohol mention, oral sex(f!receving), dumbification, dirty talk, whipped!Kiyoomi, mutually cumdrunk, PnV sex, creampie. Minors do not interact.

wc: 3.2k

This is not your bedroom.

As much as you’d kill for it to be. Silk cotton stuffed duvet a rich maroon in accordance to equally as soft sheets. Carefully shined mahogany floors checkered in wine colored Persian, a bedroom that’s more fantasy love suite than any commonplace bedroom and fuck if this mattress isn’t like heaven to lay on.

But this isn’t your bedroom.

You point your nose to the oversized shirt flooding a little under your collarbones. It’s just a simple horror tee. Dark colored kanji hovering over an illustration of Jason half obscured by cartoon blood and soft to the cotton touch. It’s big enough to cover a good portion of your thighs that are… not dressed with anything. Huh. Yeah, you are- You feel up your modest covering with a quick pat down of your hands. - Completely naked under this. And honestly a little sore. A certain shift of your hips has your pelvic area throbbing back at you like it’s already tapping out, fingerprint bruises on your thighs that feel tender when you poke them; even your tits are sore - nipples perking under your shirt like they’ve already been prodded and played with. Whoever the hell you went home with last night gave you a run for your money.

Come to think of it, what the hell even happened last night? Last you remember you were twisting your hips against a bar stool while your college buddies raved on ecstasy and coke on the dance floor. — A Shirley temple was enough to start your party high without indulging in any illicit drugs, but you’ve never been much of a drinker. That fizzy cherry vodka already had you buzzing, a few more of those and who knows what’ll happen.

You bite your lip against the grain of new life and newer feelings of lechery. You look too good and too soft not to be bent over a sink somewhere.

“That sweet?” His voice turns your fine hairs into goosebumps. “Looks tasty.”

You gaze up at him with doey eyes so filled with mirth that it makes his palms sweat. “It is.”

You slide your bottom lip through your teeth. Voice as pretty as you are. “You want a sip?”

He’s the smell of Dior and vetiver as he lifts the glass cuplet out of your hands. “Sure.”

You don’t remember who he was or what he looked like but just the memory of his raspy voice turns your sore throbbing into a needy ache. — If the way the sink in his bathroom abruptly stops with a moment of sluggish shuffling, you’re about to find out who exactly it was that rocked your world last night.

You’re already looking up at him when the door opens with a neat click, his muscled limbs stretch his boxers in a way that can only be described as appetizing.

And then you get a good look at his face.

Oh. Holy shit.

There’s… That’s-… How? He looks exactly like he does on his team’s magazine covers. JSM’s top ten lists, Bungeishunjū, and news outlets that brandish his face for a chance at watchability. He’s even more handsome in person. Trademark resting bitch face does little to dilute how painfully attractive he is and if anything the intimidation factor is a bonus. As well as the fame, the money, and of course his position as one of the top most well known athletes in all of Asia.

His name precedes him, the renowned Olympic volleyball player feels even taller than the humble 6’4 his Wikipedia pages cite him as,

He’s Sakusa Kiyoomi.

If it weren’t for the disorienting confusion you may have screamed. This is the guy who fucked you last night within an inch of your life.

Your voice is a little raspy which is expected, but when you open your mouth your jaw is sore. “Ohayō Gozaimasu-“

He clears the floor from the bathroom to the bed in just a few footsteps, you can barely react when he’s grabbing you by the jaw and tilting your head up for a better angle.

And then he’s kissing you.

The kiss is slow and sensual, so sultry that you moan a little in his mouth and he breathes into it with a deep hum. He’s kissing you like he loves you, like he’s crazy about you and like he just can’t get enough. The current of the kiss follows a savory kind of spit swapping that turns your inner thighs misty, and he pulls away with a soft smack that all but leaves a gossamer trail.

His thumb rubs circles on the soft of your cheek. “Ohayō.”

Your heart skips at the little peck he leaves on your lips before finally pulling away.

He runs a large hand through his tousled hair as he moves for a dresser near the vanity. “I ordered us some breakfast that should be here within the hour,”

He pulls out a shirt. “I’d make you some breakfast from scratch but,” Sakusa tugs it over his head. “I figured it’d be cruel to subject you to my cooking this early on.”

You blow a humored breath out of your nose. “I appreciate the sentiment regardless,”

He approaches the bed again and sits himself down across from you, there are love bites on his neck that probably match yours. “I hope you slept well.” He hums. “I slept like a rock because of you, actually.”

Oh god, you don’t even wanna know what kind of raunchy shit you were up to last night.

“I slept like the dead.” You crawl up to him, he’s already opening his arms for you. “Whatever you did put me out like a light.”

You fit in his arms so well it’s almost scary, he wraps his arms around you like he might never let you go. “Uh, Sakusa-san?”

He furrows. “Last name?”

You smile apologetically. “Kiyoomi,” You correct yourself. “I don’t… remember a lot of last night. We came back here from the club, right?”

“You…?” Kiyoomi’s eyebrows shoot up incredulously. “You don’t remember?”

“Not a lot.” You shake your head.

He frowns.

But even still his hand rubs fond lines up and down your back, still holding you just as faithfully, and looking up at you like you’re the best thing since sliced bread. “We marathoned a few drinks and then I had us dropped off at my place. I think… we started in the car, and then in my living room, and then the kitchen, the hallway, my bedroom finally; and then after a few hours we finished each other off in the shower. Around five we kissed until you eventually fell asleep.”

Kiyoomi traces the curves of your lips as he gazes fondly. “Last night was the best night of my life, I think. I don’t know if I’ve ever been with someone who could make me feel so good.” He proclaims. “I hope it’ll all come to you eventually, it was really something special.”

Well with the way he’s been treating you up to this point, it’s not like you’ll have a hard time believing that. Every earnest caress and look of adoration, the way his voice timbres into a loving hum, so smooth it makes you shiver. Hopefully those memories do come back at some point. You’ll never live it down if you actually missed the best night of your life.

You muse it with a little pout at the thought of that, Kiyoomi debates leaning forward and sucking your bottom lip into his mouth. “Hopefully I do remember then. It sounds like we had a lot of fun,”

Your pout drops after a short moment of consideration and you lean in even closer. The soft tip of your nose grazes in feather strokes as you skim it over his and slowly ease your lips down the path way to his, tasting his shuddering breaths as you hover there for a few painful seconds. But he all but melts when you finally meet. A chaste lingering kiss at first, a few sensuous short ones; you do him the courtesy and suck his bottom lip in your mouth instead. — Letting it snap back before you’re starting a trail down his cheek and kissing up until you're nosing under his jaw, using your loving hand to tilt his head up and give you the access that you seek.

He could buy you a ring right now, he wouldn’t even regret it. You don't even remember what you two got up to last night and still you’re caressing him in a way that gives him goosebumps. If you keep this up, he might wind up funding your entire life.

You bring your head up again and pull him into another kiss. Slow and open mouthed, and he damn near purrs when you start pushing your fingers through his hair. “Regardless, you feel amazing.” You whisper against his lips.

God, you might be trying to kill him. “I wouldn’t mind a refresher if you’re up for it.”

He sighs through his nose as he ducks his head to burrow himself into the crevasse over your shoulder, already peppering in searing kisses down your throat. “I was hoping you’d say something like that.”

Kiyoomi sucks in a love bite that makes you whimper so pretty. “I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good you can’t take it.”

With the way you’re already making a mess in his lap, you believe him.

—

He’s a good kisser.

Regardless of where his lips end up. He’s a little messy, a little heavy with tongue, slow when it matters and firm when it counts. He’s great with his mouth. Surprising since he’s known for being somewhat of a recluse in the opinion of the public eye. Some call him aloof, others call him cold, the majority call him intimidating, but right now what comes to your mind is giving.

The way he spits on your already messy pussy makes your eyes roll.

You inadvertently hump into his face as the combination of his tongue and fingers set the pit in your stomach ablaze. He’s fucking you with his mouth so thoroughly that the skewlch of your building arousal reverbates throughout the room. You almost feel bad about how much your thighs are all but compressing the sides of his head, but every effort to lighten up on him has him tightening his hold on you to keep him locked against your sloppy cunt.

You hiss through your teeth as your fingers card through his hair. “F-Fuck… Omi…!”

Kiyoomi moans against your clit at the wanton sound of your pitched voice. Airy, and breathy, and intoxicating. He’s grinding himself so desperately into the mattress that he’s sure he’s gone sticky.

The veins in his arms pop as he persistently fucks his fingers into your tight little hole, sloppily sucking your swollen clit as the way you roll your hips into his face drives him crazy. “You’re gonna make me cum…!” You whimper. “Fuck, Kiyoomi!”

That crude mixture of his spit and your cum is starting to form a little puddle under your backside, every bit of you he doesn’t get to swallow he doubles his efforts to drink you up sprucely.

Hearing you teeter over the edge makes him feel like he’s following close behind. Your moans are so astonishingly pretty that it’s turning his brain all fuzzy. “Ffffuck! Oh fuck. Oh my god, baby! Fuck-! I-I’m…I’m cumming…!”

Kiyoomi groans drunkenly into your cunt as it suckles on his fingers, he’s so determined to drink every last drop of your cum that he almost comes off as depraved. Lewdly slurping you up as the way he desperately sucks on your clit makes you whine into the air. Still indulging himself in your mess even as you whimper from overstimulation.

He only pulls away because the way you’re begging for him to fuck you is sending him into a frenzy. “Wan’ it so bad, Omi. Please? Do whatever you want to me. U-Use me up!”

“Yeah?” Kiyoomi hums into your mouth as you suck yourself off of his tongue. “Want me to use you? I’ll fuck you till you cry, you know.”

Your misty eyes make his heart skip, the way the head of his cock catches your entrance feels like stepping into heaven all over again. “Please, baby? Give it to me. ‘Wanna feel you inside!”

He gapes a little as he presses himself in, so overwhelmed that his head falls into your shoulder and it’s an effort for him not to outright cry out at how fucking unreal you feel.

He thinks he might just be falling in love with you. Having a pussy like this may just be a hazard for his mental health, there’s no way he’s letting this slip throughout his fingers. “Oh my god,” Kiyoomi chokes. “O-Oh my fucking god.”

“You feel… unbelievable, angel,” He starts his pace. God, fucking you is actually pushing him to the brink of insanity. “…oh my fucking-… s-so tight! So fucking wet for me, angel… holy shit…- you’re so good to me, baby.”

His breathless praises are sending you alight. He’s so deep in your guts that you’re sure you’d find a bulge if you looked down at where your bodies meet. “So good…! So, so good!”

The way you hold each other is so desperate and devoted that it feels biblical. “I can feel you in my stomach, Omi… So deep…! Y-You’re… too deep!”

Kiyoomi grunts as he pushes himself in to the hilt and holds himself there for a blissful second. Grinding his hips in shallow circles that make you choke on your tongue, but you barely know the half of until he’s lifting up one of your legs.

And then the other, lifting on his knees till he’s hovering over your pretty face, - and then he starts pistoning.

The way your face contorts from a flustered glimmer of welling tears to a blissed out gape that cutens as your tears fall is enough to make his balls feel tight enough to burst. Never mind how fucking amazing this new angle is, watching you lose your mind under him as those pretty tits move to the current of his thrusts is making his brain feel all cloudy. — He’s sure the eye contact he’s keeping is transparent in the fact that he’s turned a little love drunk. Ducking his head to press tempered kisses on your throat, but he can’t help himself from the way his lips skim up to your ear and his mouth moves without him really thinking about it.

It’s a pleasure induced haze, he’s sure. But he can’t be forgiven for the absolute filthy things he’s saying to you.

“You hear that?” He drags in a few particularly forceful thrusts that make you sob so prettily for him. “You’re really soaking me up, huh.”

“Is it that good? You feel me deep in your tummy?” Kiyoomi swivels his hips. “S-Shit. What a pretty fucking noise that just was. Fuck, baby. - Oh, are you crying?”

“Too much?” But even still he presses more of his weight on you until every thrust is hitting you to the hilt. So deep that every other press of his hips forces a yip out of you that makes his face hot. — He’s really starting to think he might be ruined for anyone else at this point.

“You’re g’nna take it for me anyway though, huh? Slutty baby… You’re gonna let me fuck you brain dead? Fuck you till you’re all stupid for me?”

You sound as far gone as he is. “Y- Yes! Yes!”

“Yeah, that’s it, angel. Such a… fuck… good fucking girl for me.”

You must be close to cumming cause you’re really starting to milk him for all he’s worth. Sucking him back in every time he pulls away and every moment he continues to fuck into you you only get tighter.

He’s losing his mind. “Ohhh fuck. Fuck! I swear to god I’m gonna break you. G’nna - shit - gonna fuck you till you’re all mine, yeah? H-Holy shit-“

Kiyoomi groans at the way your fingernails start to dig groves into his back. “Mhm. Mark me up, angel. Wanna see you all over me when we’re done.”

You grab a helping of his hair and hold on to it for dear life, you’re drooling at this point. “Oh my god… oh m’ god, Kiyoomi… I’m- I’m gonna make a mess!”

“Yeah?” Which obviously means he’s reaching down to rub messy circles on your clit. “Gonna make a mess? Wanna soak me in your pretty cum?”

“Give it to me then, baby. I’ll fill you up so good when you do.”

You croon in his ear and it sounds like gospel.

And then you’re soaking the bed with your cum.

Kiyoomi doesn’t let up even as your juices wet down his pelvis and legs. He doesn’t stop his punishing thrusts or the rhythm he’s keeping on your clit, still whispering words of filth and praise in your ear, — and it looks like you’ve completely lost yourself to the pleasure at this point. The way his name is clipping so desperately off your tongue is making his eyes roll into his head. And it’s just a few more moments of fucking into your spasming pussy till he’s following you off the edge.

“Oh god. Oh my god.” He hisses. “Mmmh - Oh fuck, baby. I’m cumming… f-fuck! I’m cumming. I’m cumming.”

Oh god, even after last night there’s still so much of it. So much and so hot. Just the feeling of clenching on his hot cum as he continues to fuck into you is sending you over the edge again. God, the sounds you’re both making. Thank goodness his penthouse is big enough to not worry about disturbing any of his neighbors, reinforced flooring probably snuffing out the sound of your debauched love making. He’s never been the most vocal in bed but you’re making him whine into your ear like a cheap whore. And the sounds you’re making - Fuck, the sounds you’re making, he wouldn’t be surprised if he turned his head and found the decorative plants near his terrace sprouting flowers. It shouldn’t even be possible to sound that fucking good and feel this fucking amazing all at once.

Kiyoomi doesn’t even realize that bed making firm clicks into the wall until he starts to slow up his thrusts. Gradually coming down from his high until his desperate movements become slow and sensuous grinding, still rocking into you even as you settle again in his arms.

He lifts his head to bring you into a lazy kiss, a little sloppy, a little butterfly inducing.

You sigh into his lips. “…Holy shit.”

Kiyoomi pulls away to press a few slow kisses into your jaw. “I think I just might be addicted to you.”

“You’re telling me…” You cross your legs over his back. “Is it too early to suggest we go steady?”

He snorts a little. “As if I’m letting you go anywhere after that.”

Kiyoomi raises his back to gingerly kiss you on the lips, so tender it feels loving. Even as he pulls away he seems ailed by it. He is ailed by it. He can’t even imagine how he’ll fare when he has to get up eventually.

His breath is warm against your lips. The way he speaks to you feels reverent. “You’re stuck with me now.”

You smile. And he goosebumps. “Aren’t I lucky then?”

reblog uwu?

#i feel. ill #i feel physically violently ill ohmygod

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hii idk if I missed it but did u ever expand on the sakusa perfume ad thought 👀

YES please let me do so (sorry this is so late)

—————

“yes, that’s perfect. right here,” the photographer snaps another shot, clicking sounds echoing through the small set as sakusa lets out an exhale.

really he’s not sure why he agreed to this. some new perfume line contacted the team a few months back, talking about some sort of collaboration to boost each others popularity. a few phone calls later and now, most of the teammates have had their turn behind the camera.

sakusa was last. he really didn’t want to. he was flattered, a little flustered that they thought he would be good for a perfume ad. he’s seen them this whole life, casting movie stars and other famous athletes. the mere fact that he’s now at that level is mind blowing enough.

but now that he sits here, uncomfortably warm and sick of the attention, he’s thinking maybe it isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

until you call him.

you’re in your local grocery store, picking up things for the week after work. thoroughly worn out, you grab a magazine from the racks while in the check out line to pass the time. your fingers flip through aimlessly, completely unaware of the contents of the glossy pages, until you are.

staring back at you is sakusa kiyoomi. head rested in his palm, in a partially unbuttoned black silk shirt, with a bottle of cologne to his lips.

you almost shut the magazine. your body feels warm, your head spins. almost ripping it open again, you stare right back at the photo. his jaw is sharp, and his milky skin glistens behind the shiny bottle. and his eyes, they feel like he’s staring right at you. before you can think twice you’re shoving the tabloid onto the belt, and begin to try to catch your breath.

“hell-“

“kiyoomi,” your voice sounds apprehensive, strained even.

“what? i just got back from practice, i need to sh-“

“we’ve been friends for over ten years and you forgot to tell me that you were in a fucking cologne ad?”

sakusa about chokes before he slams the mute button on his phone. he completely forgot, he hadn’t even been told by the marketing team that the ads were out. he feels embarrassed, suddenly worried about everyone in the entire world seeing a completely different side of him than normal.

but he’s also curious.

part of him wished this would happen. while he was staring down the lens of the camera, the thought did cross his mind about how you specifically would react.

he can’t help but find out.

“it slipped my mind i guess, i’ve been busy,” he sets his phone on the kitchen counter. “kinda cool, huh?”

you don’t even know what to say. the most beautiful photo of the prettiest man you’ve ever met is in front of you, and his raspy voice is coming through your phone, making for an incredibly distracting combination.

“you look so irritated,” your voice is quiet. sakusa smirks, only slightly.

“i was. i was there for hours,” his smirk grows for a moment. “i think there’s going to be a short video ad, too.”

you rub your temples. your mind is blank. you’ve always thought sakusa was handsome, but not like this. your tongue feel heavy in your mouth, and you can’t stop staring.

“a-and what do you think of it? what did your mom say?”

sakusa shorts at the desperate conversation change attempt. “she had a fit, you know how she is.”

the thought of how could she not crosses your mind, and thankfully you don’t say it out loud.

“well, it’s really something. congrats, omi,”

sakusa smiles. “thanks,” he can hear you sigh on the other end. “everything okay over there?”

no. “y-yeah, yeah, just fine,” you shut the magazine and toss it onto the coffee table.

“staring at my picture?”

“n-no!” you’re quick, and sakusa laughs.

“miss me that much? jeez, want me to come sign it for you too?”

you pause. he laughs out loud. “shut up, omi,” you groan. “i’ll see you friday anyway, for motoya’s dinner,”

“okay, see you then.”

he hangs up, and he can’t help but snicker to himself. he can’t wait to see you on friday now. and, he even has the shirt from the shoot.

he decides he’s going to wear it, just for you.

#losing my mind oh god jesus #oh...... #sakusa is written so perfectly here

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OFFICIAL ART🖤

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Wingman ain’t subtle.

Paring: Gojo Satoru x reader

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : This takes place when Gojo and the rest are students and you are one year senior/older than them

Gojo thinks today is a bad day.

“y/n-senpai apparently only dates guys older than her” Shoko says she sucks the drink from the straw. As much as she’d like to be smoking, it wasn’t allowed on campus.

The lollipop in Gojo’s mouth falls to the ground which makes Geto snort.

“Sucks to you Satoru.” He comments. “If only you were born a year or two before you’d have a chance.”

Gojo winches as he looks over to Shoko with eyes pleading that she was lying “For real?”

“Yeah.” Shoko and you shared being gifted with Reverse Cursed Technique so they’d spend a lot of time training together so the two were close.

Ever since he learned that fact, Gojo had Shoko be his wing man on learning to be and also learn about your type. She was hesitant at fist but oh boy! Gojo was so hopelessly in love with you she kinda felt bad. Shoko adds. “She thinks older guy make her feel protected.”

Gojo huffs, his stomach churns with jealousy. “I’m literally the strongest…” who else would you need to feel protected?

To add on the fact that learning about him having no chance with you because of the year he was born — ‘Satoru was spawn killed.’ Geto would add— he and his classmates had forgotten to put up a veil during a mission which triggered Yaga’s, their teacher in charge, wrath.

Yaga takes in a deep breath“How many times do I have to tell you to put up a veil ?!”

Gojo really couldn’t careless as his teacher yaps away and probably neither did both of his two friends. He could see Geto nod at times as if acting like he was taking Yaga’s word to heart and with Shoko dozing off with her eyes open.

He does his best to fight back a yawn as something suddenly grabs his attention. You. His eyes trail to you ,who was a year senior to him, walking along the hallway, revealed by the long strip of windows between the classroom and hall. Gojo thinks you’re the loveliest piece of existence in the planet as you gently tug a piece of hair behind as you talk with Utahime.

Feeling a piercing gaze — or maybe it was Yaga’s shouts— you look over inside the class as meet your eyes with beautiful vibrant blue ones of your junior, Gojo Satoru’s.

When you give him a smile and a small wave, you weren’t expecting him to straight up beam at your direction and full on wave as if a kid would wave at an airplane passing by.

Of course this angered Yaga further as a nerve pops on his forehead and hands clenched. “Pay attention, Satoru!” He swings his fist at the boy.

The impact of his teacher’s fist on him sends him flying. If he weren’t such a good student he would have actually used his limitless to block such hits but alas— it may not look like it but he was. “Sensei—! Hitting your students should be against the law.”

He sees Geto sent him an amused smirk and Shoko,who finally woke up, trying to figure out what was happening and to his horror, you were giggling at him. Not many things can make Gojo feel embarrassed but his crush laughing at him when he got hit was one of it.

Yup-! That’s exactly what he needed; his crushing laughing as he gets beat up and lectured by his teacher. His day was going fan-tas-tic!

The day goes on with with the remaining classes. Evening classes were usually training so Shoko was in infirmary with Gojo and Geto on the training grounds but one thing bother Gojo was that the ‘hit’ from Yaga earlier did leave an impact. The back of his head a aching and even made him jump when Geto applied the slightest bit of pressure.

Call him dramatic but he didn’t want the ache to go on further so there he was on his way to the infirmary. He really needed Shoko to patch him up.

He slides the door open as he starts to complain. “Shoko heal me up. Yaga’s hit really did some damage on me”

“You’re hurt?”

Hearing a voice which wasn’t Shoko’s and with almost a magic like ability to make his heart race grabbed his attention. He turns to see you who was near the storage cabinet as if you were arranging something.

“I- uhh…” Suddenly his throat constricted and he couldn’t speak. His face heats up as you tilt your head waiting for an answer as he clears his throat. “Just a bit, y/n.”

“Shoko is out though. She got called to assist in a mission. ” You smile as you sit on a near by chair, pulling another chair beside.

You smile at him as you pat the chair beside yours indicating him to sit down there which makes him tense up slightly but he does as told. “Also you should be calling me ‘senpai’. Utahime-senpai was complaining that youth these days have no manner.”

You laugh. “Now tell me where you’re hurt.”

He sits beside you as he tilts his head and points at his sore spot. “Here.”

Gojo watches you raise your hand and inspect his heat, the places where your fingers grazes heats up which makes him gulp deeply. You laugh as you see a swelling on his head. “Wow- Sensei really did hit you hard…”

The white haired boy relaxes as he he feels the calming sensation on his head which means you were using your technique of healing him. “Does age really matter that much?”

You hum as if thinking through your answer. “Of course. Even a year older means you’ve been in this world for a year longer. That in itself is commendable enough.”

“I heard from Shoko that you like guys older…” Gojo says no longer trying to contain the jealousy in his voice. “Is it because of the same reason?”

Gojo watches your eyes widen and blink in confusion; he thinks any expression you make is so so adorable. You then proceed to giggle. “Just because I dated people who are older than me doesn’t mean I have a type.”

Damn that Shoko probably messed around with her wording. Gojo curses as the girl made it seem you would only date guys older than her.

“For example…” You hum as you bring your finger up to your lips. “Right now I like a guy who is younger than me who never respects his elder.”

Hearing her words, every restrain in his body breaks free and Gojo stands up from his seat ; before he knows it his lips are on yours. He hold your face in place, cupping both side of his cheeks.

Gojo kisses you. Your lips are softer than he imagined it to be and when you let out a small moan he deepens it, stronger and desperate as if trying to memorize every inch of you.

He brings one of his hands to the back of your head, as he runs his hands through your hair. His lips keep moving as if he had lost his mind; deep and urgent as if he couldn’t waste a single second.

Out of breath, he pulls away and looks at you who was breathing heavily and lips slightly plump from his desperate tugs and bites. He watches the same lips curl into a smile as you give him a teasing smile. “Also tell Shoko to quit being your wing man,Satoru. She isn’t quite subtle about it.”

#died reading this one

[zonigiri]

me when the fictional male character is a bit of an awkward loser

[zonigiri]

i googled twin tshirts for these clowns' birthday and found a funny set 😂

sending a good hbd to my fave fictional twins 🎂🎂🎂

[zonigiri]

Details are important

[zonigiri]

彡 ❛ CHEAP WHORE ! ❜ GOJO SATORU

imagine gojo satoru degrading you like the slut you are.

warnings :: nsfw. 18+ content. creampie. unprotected sex. degrading kink. spanking. slight slut shaming. dirty talk. mdom. fsub.

notes :: eeee satoru is such a pretty princess ! i just had to write for this gorgeous boy .. maybe next time ill make him all subby 'n desperate ..? ♡ + ↻ are rlly appreciated ! !

His hips snapped forward with an obscene slap. You squealed, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he pounded you relentlessly. His hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass as he bounced you on his cock, using you for his own pleasure. You could feel your slick running down your thighs, your body hot and sensitive as his thick member pistoned in and out of you. "Such a filthy slut, always so fucking desperate for my cock. Bet ya love this, huh? Love being fucked like a cheap whore."

You could only moan in response, your mind hazy with lust and pleasure. You arched your back, pushing your ass further onto his cock, trying to take him even deeper. You felt so full, so complete, so perfectly used. Your skin was flushed, your breasts bouncing with each powerful thrust of his hips. Gojo eyed your puffy cunt, watching as your pussy swallowed his cock over and over again, stretching to accommodate his size. The sight of his cock coated in your slick, your arousal dripping from his balls made his cock twitch, a low growl escaping his lips. He reached out and slapped your ass, the sound reverberating throughout the room. "Fuck- yeah, you do.. you fucking love it. Fucking love me"

Your walls tightened around him, a high pitched whine leaving your lips as his hand came down again, spanking your ass. Your cheeks were bright red, your skin hot to the touch as his hand came down repeatedly, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. You whimpered, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as he continued to fuck you, his hips slamming into yours at a bruising pace. You could feel your climax building, the pressure in your lower abdomen becoming almost unbearable. Gojo smirked, noticing the telltale signs of your impending orgasm. He pulled out abruptly, leaving you feeling empty and frustrated. You cried out, your body aching for release. "Noo- please- I'm so close..!"

Gojo laughed darkly, his grip on your hips tightening as he flipped you over, forcing you to face him. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, tugging harshly, eliciting a moan from your swollen lips. "Look at you, babe.. so desperate and needy, so fucking perfect.." He ran his fingers along your slit, gathering your arousal, before bringing them to his mouth, licking them clean. You shivered, your body trembling with desire as you watched him. His piercing gaze locked onto yours, his blue eyes blown out with lust. He pressed the tip of his cock against your entrance, teasing you, torturing you. "Please, 'toru- please..p-please fuck me..fu-"

Before you could finish your sentence, he slammed his cock into you, filling you completely. Your back arched, a strangled cry falling from your lips. He set a brutal pace, his hips moving forward in a punishing rhythm. Your hands scrambled to grab onto something, anything, as he pounded into you, your nails clawing at his back. He groaned, the stinging pain only adding to his pleasure. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge, the coil in your stomach winding tighter and tighter, threatening to snap. "Gonna cum for me, huh? Gonna cum on my cock, like the little slut you are? Come on, baby..cum for me. Cum on my cock like a good bitch."

His words pushed you over the edge, sending you plummeting into the depths of ecstasy. Your walls clamped down around him, your body quivering as your orgasm tore through you, rendering you boneless. You sobbed, tears streaming down your cheeks, the overwhelming pleasure threatening to consume you whole. Gojo continued to fuck you, his pace never faltering as he chased his own release. You were delirious, your mind fuzzy and blank, your body overstimulated. "C-cumm.. ne-need it.. need your cum..please.." You gasped out, your voice hoarse and broken. He groaned, his cock twitching inside of you as he felt your walls fluttering around him, milking him. "Yeah? I'll fucking give it to you. Gonna fill you up, breed you, make sure everyone knows who you belong to." His words were like a match to kindling, sending a fresh wave of heat through your body. "Fuck- that's it, baby.. take my cock, take all of it. Fuck, such a perfect little cockslut.."

He buried his cock inside of you, his tight balls pressuring against your ass, his fingers digging into your flesh as he spilled his hot seed deep within you, coating your walls. You felt him pulsating, his sticky semen leaking out of you, dripping down your thighs. He continued to rock his hips, riding out his high, prolonging your own. You were both panting, covered in sweat and cum, your bodies trembling from the exertion. He collapsed on top of you, his breathing ragged. "Holy shit.." He mumbled, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You hummed in agreement, too blissed out to form a coherent thought, much less speak. Gojo rolled off of you, his softening cock slipping out of you, his seed oozing from your swollen cunt. You winced, your body sore and tender, but you couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips. You felt so sated, so thoroughly used, so fucking complete.

"Fuck.. we should do this more often."

[zonigiri]

you message satoru to get new batteries for your vibrator on his way home and he comes back with a hard-on. “here”, he speaks to you. “use this”, while pointing at the eye-catching bulge on his crotch. “this battery doesn’t die”

#im going to scream i quite literally need batteries my vibe is DEAD #and i have no satoru!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #brb killing myself

[zonigiri]

the way nanami kento would leave all of his bread recipes for you after his death.

he felt it coming, even before stepping into shibuya. didn’t want to leave the bed that morning. didn’t want to leave you — hugging his arm instead of the pillow (which you turn to, after he leaves. the one that smells like him). didn’t want to stay out too long. wanted to enjoy the day with you, baking. cooking. whatever.

he leaves the recipes in neat handwriting, of course. writes them out with the fountain pen you gifted him.

you’ll always have a piece of him, even after his death.

#STOP

[zonigiri]

I will never be normal about the fact that all the times Law got involved with Luffy, it's on his own accord. He stayed back in Sabaody, and I'm sure he should know how that's going to look like. Then in Marineford, he saves Luffy when there's virtually no reason to... Then in Punk Hazard, it's him who suggests they form an alliance (friendship!!!) to take down one of the Four Emperors (BIG ADVENTURE!!!!).

Law willingly walked right into Luffy's orbit, looking straight at him. He counted on Luffy to be insane and strong enough to go along with him in taking down an Emperor, but he couldn't have imagined that Luffy could love him that much, that quick for the latter to not let go in Dressrosa.

[zonigiri]

MY LIFE BEFORE YOU [ ♡ ]

summary. how jjk men fall in love with single-mom reader.

cw/ tw. fem!reader, fluff, domesticity, brief mentions of pregnancy, mild hurt/ comfort, pining, original child characters, aged-up characters, boss/ employee relationship, mildly suggestive toward the end

featuring. gojo, yuuji, sukuna, megumi, nanami

an. hello, this is an updated repost from my @/satorini blog:3 enjoy! reblogs are appreciated!

✢ GOJO

Being a single mom has its ups and downs, especially when it comes to dating. You can easily recount the times you sat across from a date who looked like they ate something sour after the mention of your daughter, how they paused, spine going stiff—never keen on the type of baggage that comes in small packages.

So it’s only natural to expect the same with Gojo when you tell him on the first date in the back of a coffee shop, wincing internally with a tight grip around your cup. You wait for the awkward laugh, the promise to call you later, even though they never do. 

But then he surprises you.

He smiles—that same one that filled your belly with butterflies the first time you ran into him in the elevator at work—his gaze unexpectedly soft, and he asks, “What’s her name?”

You sip your coffee to distract yourself from that fluttery feeling in your chest. “Ma—um, her name’s Mai.”

Your heartbeat doesn’t slow for hours after that date; you admit you hadn’t expected him to take it in full stride.

Almost two years later, sometimes you still can’t believe it—how he fits so effortlessly in your life, that he’s shown you time and time again that he has no problem treating your daughter like his own.

He calls her princess and treats her like one, too. One day, you walk into the living room to find Mai putting clips in Satoru's hair and unicorn stickers on his face, letting her ramble about her day at daycare (because the afternoon reading circle is apparently very eventful for a bunch of four-year-olds).

On the days he’s off work, you have to keep the fridge stocked with food, or else they’ll eat nothing but sweets all day. And when he does cook, he'll have a chair pushed up to the counter for Mai to see and help—though your kitchen is often left a total mess afterward.

It’s after dinner, Mai tucked into bed, his arms curled around your waist while you scrub a pot, a thumb tracing your abdomen—sweetheart, what if we had another?—and you let yourself think about it. Can’t help it.

This time, you won’t be alone in a delivery room, Satoru’s large hands comfortingly wrapped around yours before holding his newborn for the first time, one with Satoru’s smile and maybe your eyes. Another set of small feet running down the hall for cuddles in the morning… 

You reach down and cup his hand, despite it being covered in sudsy dishwater, though he doesn’t seem to care.

“I think…I think I’d like that.”

✢ YUUJI

He’s always been your best friend; since that time you fell off the swingset when you were six and after you found out you were pregnant and never heard anything back from the father. 

It's possibly the best and worst thing that could have happened to you. 

The best because he’s there for you until the twins come screaming into the world; it’s no surprise they’re just as drawn to his sunny personality as everyone else. Yuuji becomes a shadow at your side in the weeks after, becoming somewhat of a quasi-parent even though you never asked him to, which is why it’s the worst.

Those easy smiles are slowly replaced by the feeling of your heart trembling in your chest whenever you catch him hastily tripping up the stairs to the nursery to wake the twins from their nap. Or when he takes the three of you to the park for a picnic and spends the entire time staring at one of the sleeping little boys on your chest as if they’re doing cartwheels.

You try not to think about it too much unless you want to risk losing Yuuji, to crumble whatever solid foundation your friendship sits on. Plus, why would he want to settle with a single mom anyway?

You’ve seen the girls he’s dated, and none of them walk out of the house wearing a sweater covered in baby food stains, pretty, willowy girls who put a little more effort into their appearance than you have in months. 

And the sadder, more obvious answer is that there’s no way he feels the same about you—sweet, whole-hearted Yuuji who’s friendly to strangers and always willing to help wherever he’s needed. 

You’re no different.

There’s some truth to that, which rapidly disintegrates as the months go on. You can no longer ignore how Yuuji lights up whenever someone accidentally mistakes him for the twin’s father or mentions how cute your family is.

It’s easy to imagine until you’re so wrapped up in thoughts that make you bite back a smile—of coming home to Yuuji napping with the twins on the couch, quiet evenings snuggled up under soft blankets on the couch, kissing him when he leaves for work in the morning—that you nearly miss what he says to the sweet old man who’s been giving Yuuji unsolicited parenting advice, “Maybe she’ll actually say yes when I ask her to marry me someday.”

He’s not looking at you when he says it, but you see how his smile reaches his eyes (soft as if he’s inserted himself into the same future you thought of), and for a moment, you allow yourself to hope. 

✢ SUKUNA

He’s never been the type to want kids of his own, and yet he couldn’t turn a blind eye when you call him nearly two months since that night at his brother’s birthday party—hazily remembering you telling him you’re one of Yuuj’s friends before he took you back to his place—to tell him you’re pregnant.

“You don’t have to be there. I just thought you should know,” you say wetly.

“Jesus—” he sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face. He doesn’t think the employee breakroom at the gym is the right place to have this conversation. “Listen, don’t cry. I’ll be there, alright? Whatever you need.”

Sukuna at least thought he’d actually be with the person he has a kid with. Over the next four years, that couldn’t be further from the truth.

There’s a lot that’s undesirable about the situation, like the fact that every time he walks out of his room, he always ends up stepping on Legos because you insist on buying Hana more and leave them at his place, or that he can't eat anything these days without a small hand reaching out for his food.

But the one thing that really makes his blood curdle is whenever he has Hana for the weekend, and she rambles through a mouthful of mac n’ cheese about how you and Yuuji took her to the park, with more stories about Yuuji this and Yuuji that.

He should be grateful his brother is such a doting uncle, yet he grinds his teeth the longer his daughter prattles on.

Out of everything, this is the one thing he chooses to find an issue with: high-school sweetheart Yuuji, pictures of him found in frames all over your house; helpful and supportive, perfectly polite, always-nice-to-be-around-Yuuji who everyone gravitated towards, even you, it seems.  

He tells himself it’ll go away eventually, that strange pit of jealousy festering in his chest like an open wound. It doesn’t.

Sukuna spends so much time thinking about it that he’s thoroughly annoyed by the time you stop by to pick up Hana for the week. 

“Did you guys have a nice weekend? You seem…” Of course, you’d pick up on his shitty mood. “Upset.”

“I’m fine,” he grumbles, hoping you’ll leave it alone.

You don’t.

“Listen, if this is about Friday, I told you Yuuji’s okay dropping her off.”

“I bet he is,” Sukuna sneers, shoving the last of Hana’s Legos into her bag.

You huff. “What is your problem?”

“Nothing, but I have a feeling you’ll run back to Yuuji and tell him about it anyway.”

“Are you seriously jealous of your brother?”

He scoffs but doesn’t answer.

“If you want to be with me so badly, just say it.” You put your hands on your hips. “Go on, say it.”

Obviously, you’re joking (at least, maybe a little, the unsure smile on your face wavering), but he’s not.

In the end, he breaks first. Wrapping his hand around the back of your neck, he presses his mouth to yours, fingers flexing at your little gasp. When he breaks the kiss, panting a little, he says, “I want to be with you, and I want to raise my fucking kid with you. Happy?”

There’s a scandalized gasp, and he looks down to find Hana standing there with her sandals on the wrong feet, blinking up at him with round eyes. 

“Daddy, that’s a bad word.”

“Listen here, brat—” you pinch his side. “Ow.”

✢ MEGUMI

He admits he doesn’t know what he’s doing, not when it comes to being a parent. The best-dad-of-the-year didn’t exactly exist in his household growing up, considering his dad was never really around.

There’s a learning curve when it comes to four-year-olds and what they’re interested in; he discovers this the hard way when he bores your son to sleep by talking about mundane adult topics. He thinks you’re only trying to make him feel better by saying Rin never takes naps for anyone.

It festers, that feeling of inadequacy, between daycare pick-ups and co-parenting with Rin’s father—who happens to be a pediatrician, no less, while Megumi’s been working the same dead-end desk job for almost a decade—until he has his first win on a trip to the beach.

He teaches Rin how to make sand castles the way he and Tsumiki used to when they were kids. That’s apparently enough to win your son over, and he doesn’t know how to react the first time Rin calls him dad—second dad, he tells his teacher at school, but still dad. He thinks he might’ve looked at you in shock while soft giggles escaped your lips.

There’s still that underlying need to prove himself: to you, to Rin. That he can get along with your ex-husband and figure out the ins and outs of being a parent now that another set of feet will be waking him up in the middle of the night.

He would never admit it out loud, but Megumi can’t help the way his heart beats a tattoo into his ribcage at the glimpse of the engagement ring adorning your left hand as you drink your coffee—proof that you are willing to be his for as long as you’ll have him, and that…does something to him. It has him thinking about you holding a bouquet, of you smoothing that same hand over a steadily growing belly.

Every day, it amazes him how something so small—something that used to have no real purpose at the back of his sock drawer until you let him slip it onto your finger—can hold his whole future in its shining stones and delicate silver band.

Sometimes, Megumi can’t wrap his head around the fact that you still want him even though he’s still figuring things out, and his words don’t come out sappy like in those romance novels you enjoy so much—that he isn’t the best with feelings, yet he tries so hard to be a little more vulnerable for you.

It took him so many years to realize that this is what being in love feels like, and he’d be an idiot if he ever let you go.

“Megumi,” you say softly, noticing that he’d stopped making breakfast. “Are you okay?”

He brings his gaze up from your hand to meet your wide doe eyes. So pretty, he thinks, and all his. His mouth quirks into a not-quite smile, helping Rin pour more batter onto the skillet. “Yeah. Better than okay.”

✢ NANAMI

The first time he meets you, one of the associates for his company introduces you as his wife—a fresh-eyed college student who’s more concerned about staring at other women at the business function than the beautiful one on his arm—and he kindly shakes your hand, watching you give such devoted attention to a man undeserving of it.

What would it be like to be loved like that?

A few years trickle by before he sees you again, except this time, there’s no ring on your finger, and you’re in the middle of walking into his office for an interview with a little boy balanced on your hip.

“Sorry, my babysitter called in sick, and I couldn’t find a replacement in time—Oh.” It’s in that small moment between closing the door and hauling a diaper bag up your shoulder that you recognize him, too. “I didn’t realize you were the one doing the interview.”

He arches a brow. “No?”

“Sorry…again. I didn’t mean it like that, and I’m usually not this unprepared.” You set the toddler down on the floor and straighten out your skirt, giving him a shy, pretty smile.

Nanami swallows and gestures to the seat in front of his desk. “He can stay.”

While he asks you questions, your son—Haru, he learns—keeps busy with a coloring book you give him, and before you leave after the interview, he silently proffers Nanami a sheet of paper filled with yellow and green crayon squiggles. 

He tacks it to the corkboard wall next to his desk.

When you start working as his office assistant, he never brings up the topic of your ex-husband. It’s obvious the man doesn’t care about his family, anyway—not when you show up most days looking worn out. 

It starts to burn in his chest, the way your eyes drop sometimes, the little reassuring nod he’ll catch you giving yourself after what must’ve been a rough morning. 

Nanami knows he’s in way over his head when he asks you out for coffee; how surprised he is you say yes, which leads to more dates until he slowly finds that smile of warm devotion aimed in his direction.

Eventually, your things fill the empty spaces in his home, and the spare room in his house becomes a nursery. His once quiet mornings of reading the paper are now pleasantly disrupted by the smell of pancakes and Haru trying to climb into his lap to read with him. 

The first time Haru asks for Nanami after a nightmare—rubbing his wet eyes while standing near Nanami's side of the bed in his shark pajamas, sans one sock, until Nanami scoops him up and deposits him between you—he winces (because he doesn’t want it to seem like he’s taking something away from you) before he notices the soft smile curling your mouth. 

He can’t pretend to fully understand why you ever agreed to that first date when the odds weren’t terribly in his favor, but he has a long time to learn, and right now, he’s focused on other things.

"Quiet, dove,” he murmurs, kissing your temple. “You're going to wake the baby..." 

#these are ALL SO GOOD

[zonigiri]

day 6: roronoa zoro [cock warming]

࿓ synopsis • you ask to zoro whether he needs any help or not, and in return, he makes you sit on his cock so that it can get warm while he’s sleeping.

―❦ nsfw, opla!zoro, f!reader, reader is being needy & brat, pussy slapping, pet names, teasing, swearing, ‘is all! • 1.2k • a man that takes all my attention to himself in an instant in every type of universe; live action, manga, and anime. I chose to write for la!zoro version ‘cause why not? enjoy, hope I did everything right! [kinktober m.]

“stop moving, you're distracin' me.”

his deep voice cuts your actions of trying to stay still on his lap, adjusting your position so that your numb legs will fix, but, the struggle causes your pussy to clench around his length because of sudden movement which ends up by earning an unsteady thrust. looking at his face, hands gripping the collar of his sleeve, you see his closed eyes, trying to continue the nap he’s taking in the middle of the day.

 “sorry –“ you say, smiling innocently knowing he cannot see, “I didn’t mean to, it’s just –“ you try to find a solid word to describe the situation you’re in now but the weight of lust running through your pussy takes your brain away, wanting to break free, letting yourself go and wasting the last thirty-four minutes waste, waking zoro up, being a greedy brat – only to make him not sleep, instead, fuck you. “so much.”

you can’t bring yourself to say what you’re thinking aloud – just fuck me already! Just move this thick cock and fill me up! – pathetic.

you’re here, sitting down on his cock, warming it, being useful.

the moment of the morning came into your mind; the crew went to bring food and new clothes to the ship, and when they left, only you and zoro were on the ship, you said ‘I wanna be useful for you’ because he’s still healing and you wanted to help – anything, you added, which was a bad idea – maybe, it wasn’t that bad though.

zoro, being a greedy boyfriend even if he tries to hide it, decided to make you a useful one – for his damn cock – to warm it up!

“so much?” he teases you, taking you back to reality, making the sensation on your pussy grow bigger each passing time, moving his hips, acting as if he just adjusts his position like you did minutes ago – only this time, it’s an act – to try you, seeing how much you can handle this. folding his arms, he opens his eyes slowly, an eyebrow is raised, questioning, “what’s so much? I even didn’t begin to fuck you, did I, doll?”

opening your legs wider, challenging him, a whimper leaves your mouth yet zoro doesn’t show any sign of being greedy to fuck you – oh, what self-control!

but you’re not done yet. “it seems you will never do,” you say, shrugging, hands on his shoulder building up to his neck, playing with the hair on his neck – the most breathtaking man you have ever seen – he’s so beautiful that you would beg anytime now but you should try first – to break him into the point in which he will let himself go and move his hips. “I know I am here for the help – to warm your cock,” you point to the sight in front of him – your pussy beautifully covering his thick cock, wetness that comes out of you soaking his veined length. “am I helping?”

opening his arms, he puts them behind his head’s back instead as he leans to the wall of the chair you’re sitting on – eyes travel from your tight pussy to your face, meeting with your innocent smile and sparkling eyes.

“u-huh,” he says, trying to understand where you’re heading with this question, because he knows you well enough to realize you want him to move, yet stubborn and prideful to beg, not until the right moment which zoro waits to arrive. “warming my cock so well that I can feel you dripping into it – hot.”

nodding to him, heat rushes to your face at the sudden compliment, making you gain a confident manner, and continue on with your act; being a fucking brat, using his jealousy to achieve your goal – you would feel bad under other circumstances but not today, not when you want him to devour you – he’s hard to resist, and you’re so greedy to be a good girl.

“anything for my crewmate,” not boyfriend – a crewmate. it takes his attention, eyes on your face, daring you to go on with piercing gazes, jaw getting tight, straight face expression that screams danger. it only turns you on further. “I will make sure to provide my service to the captain as well than because he can need – agggh – zoro –!”

your words are cut by him; raising your body up a little until his tip releases you, and then, without missing a heartbeat, putting it down on his length, thrusting into your dozy pussy, earning a scream out of your mouth.

holding his shoulder tightly, you try to stay in balance while he keeps doing that without any particular rhythm and steadiness so that you get cockdumbed mind right away – all dizzy, just moaning, feeling him shoving his dick into you, balls hitting the ass – finally!

“is this what you wanted, brat?” he asks, hands open your skirt by damaging its buttons, nearly tearing it apart, cupping the breasts through the fabric of your bra before letting them watch how they bounce in sync with your body, raising up and down on his cock with more rapid pace now – devouring you – the things you wanted for a long time. “want me to break that pussy, pretty doll – ohhh – uhmm – y/n – you – you will fuckin’ get it!”

his hands are positioned on your waist, looking down, seeing your clit getting wider with each of his hard and strong thrusts, warming it with all the juices you make – you literally soak now, close to the edge, and zoro smirks at you the moment he hears the crew entering the ship.

his possessive and rough side takes control of his mind – his soul as he picks you up, you already begin to beg for him to put his cock inside, pleases coming out of your parted pink lips that you bite so hard. you let him turning your body, abdomen touching the surface of the bed, cock’s tip resting on the entrance of your pussy, then, he slaps it with his dick, a hand finds your neck, putting your face down onto the pillow – his body hovering behind you as your ass gets higher and higher.

it feels so vulnerable to be in this position as if you’re his own fucktoy to play with, and you can’t deny the fact that even the thought of it can make you cum in an instant.

“zoro – aggh – I –“ you try to say when his dick slaps your clit once again, your body jumps – feeling both shy and shameless at the same time but he cuts you out, cock enters you in one go, jolting your body forward.

“cut it. you don’t want to waste your breath now, you will need it when I make you scream my name enough to make all the crew hear it,” he chuckles – the rings of danger echo inside your head, making you look behind and see him; standing on his knees, eyes on your face, a smirk is visible that gives chill down to your spine at the sight – his glory has one meaning – is that he will not leave this room until others – and your brat brain understands only he can have you like this.

“will make sure everyone knows who’s fuckin’ you day and night, including you, you dumb doll. should’ve learned it sooner, but, I’m always open to teaching you how to be a good fuckin' girl for me.”

❦ tagging: @lilvampirina & @snowprincesa1 & @dookiemeshibear *cuties*

#passing away

[zonigiri]

rip my ribcage open (devour what’s truly yours)

zoro x f!reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: tummy-pusher zoro, squirting, oral (f!receiving), overstimulation, prone bone, chokehold, slight breath play, creampie, violent imagery, religious imagery, bit of aftercare.

zoro thinks you might be trying to say his name.

he’s knelt between your legs, sitting back on his haunches and rocking his hips just enough to fuck you with the fat tip of his cock. there’s a rhythm to the unsteady rise and fall of your chest. short inhale, long exhale, the same way you always sigh his name when he’s reduced you to this.

tears dotting your lashes, drool seeping from the corner of your mouth, hips bucking mindlessly trying to get him to slip in deeper.

fuck, you’re hungry for it.

Keep reading

#this is carved into my brain