Alexis

24 ♐ Just a black woman who loves to read 💗

[hotgrlcece]

Welcome! -`♡´- This post contains all of my written work that I’ve published here over the past few years. Each sub-section will be updated, if necessary, whenever I post new projects.

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Erik & Egypt

Erik Stevens/Killmonger & Reader/OC

MBJ & Reader/OC

Yahya & Reader/OC

Trevante & Reader/OC

Keith & Reader/OC

Megan & Reader/OC

Aaron & Reader/OC

Kelvin & Reader/OC

Miscellaneous

[hopefulandromantic]

Good Neighbor

Featuring: Elijah “Smoke” Moore

Warnings: Smut + Age Gap (Smoke is 35 and Divine is 23)! Please, don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable! 🫶🏾

IN WHICH Divine asks her fine ass, older neighbor to take her virginity.

Please excuse any and all mistakes! 🙃

Divine's been Smoke's neighbor for about a year now—right across the hall from him.

One day, while she was still in the process of getting moved in, he felt like being kind enough to help her haul a few boxes into her apartment. He did and she noticed that he lived right across from her.

He’s been her go to ever since.

She knocks on his door if she needs something put together. Knock if she needs something heavy brought up. Knock if she needs sugar, or any other common kitchen ingredients that everyone should have. Knock if she needs to borrow money to order food (which she never pays back). Hell, she even knocks when she's bored.

It's gotten to the point that all three of the women Smoke’s currently juggling know of her, even initially asking if that's his little sister.

Of course, he introduces her as his irritating ass neighbor, to which their curiosity and amusement shifts to jealousy.

Smoke pays it no mind, knowing deep down that if it’s up to him, Divine isn’t going anywhere, but they can.

Smoke initially did find her annoying to a point, the younger reminding him of his twin, in a way. After getting to know her in depth, he understood her taking to him so quick.

Divine ran away from her family and hometown in North Carolina, settling in Chicago to get a fresh start in her twenty-three years of living.

In a world where seeing a man as safe isn't safe, he felt a sense of obligation—knowing that that wouldn't be the case for her.

Yes, he’s a little hard on her, especially since she works most of her nights at a well known, local gentleman's club.

Through all of that protectiveness and strictness, Divine notices and appreciates that he cares and looks out for her.

At the end of the day, she’s a good girl with a good head on her shoulders, so doing so isn't too hard.

Like, what feels like, clockwork, his carefree day of leisure is interrupted by someone wanting access to him.

Impatient knocks on his door urged Smoke to toss his PS5 controller aside, releasing a huff of air from his nose. He pulled his sagging sweats up on his hips, trudging to the front door.

"Wait a damn minute." Smoke grumbled just as they started up again. He swung it open, already knowing that Divine is behind it.

"What the fuck do you want, lil girl?" Smoke gritted, irritation all over his face and that usual Southern bite deep in his gruff tone. "You can't be banging on my do' like som' wrong!"

"Damn, can you calm down?" Divine sassed with a soft frown and eye roll. "Something is wrong. This is serious, Smoke."

"Life or death?"

"Uh...no, but—." Divine was cut off by Smoke closing the door in her face, smirking softly at the fact that he knows she's internally throwing a fit. "Smoke, please!" She whined, making him roll his eyes and pull the door back open.

Smoke stepped aside, silently giving her permission to enter.

Divine sauntered in like she owned the place, her black, plush Victoria’s Secret slippers sliding against the floor loudly.

She's currently wearing some light blue, Smurf printed shorts that are too damn short, and a white, cropped tank top that's barely containing her full, generous breasts and resting just above her soft, pudgy stomach.

Divine plopped down on his couch, releasing a loud, dramatic sigh as she sprawled out all of her limbs.

Smoke shook his head with a soft scoff, sitting down and manspreading in his previous spot.

Divine released an even louder sigh when she noticed that he picked his controller back up and unpaused the game.

"I'm 'spose to ask you what's wrong?"

"Yes."

Smoke cut his eyes over at her, pausing the game that he just unpaused to see what's her issue.

"What's wrong, Divine?" Smoke asked with concern so false that it came out sounding almost forced.

"Ugh, It's stupid."

"Girl, just tell me what the hell wrong wit' you."

"Fine." Divine sat up with a huff, looking over at Smoke with a pout. "I'm tired of being a virgin."

Smoke's brows furrowed, and he tilted his head in visible confusion as she looked down at her slippers.

"You a virgin, D?"

He’s not blind. The young woman is very attractive.

Rich brown skin. Thick, black coils that she keeps done in bold, natural styles. Big, soft brown eyes and full, plush lips. Curvaceous, thick frame. In addition, she's intelligent and has an extremely likable personality (even though Smoke will never tell her that).

There's also been a few men that she brought around, so he just assumed that she had to be serious with at least one of them.

"Yeah." Divine muttered. "I know. It's fucking embarrassing. A grown ass virgin that gotta sit back and...miss out!" She rambled.

“Ain’t nothing wrong wit’ being a virgin, Divine.” Smoke reassured her with an amused chuckle. “It ain’t that serious.”

“It’s serious when I have desires that aren’t being fulfilled, Elijah.” Divine sassed, saying his government almost like it disgusted her at the moment. “I’m at my limit.”

"So, you ready to fuck?" Smoke spoke—half questioning, and half asking for confirmation. "I mean, have sex." He caught and censored himself, gritting his teeth apologetically.

"See?"

"What?"

"That! Don't...treat me like a fucking child. Like an inexperienced, fragile teenager, or something!" Divine spat with a frown, making Smoke shake his head, and fight the urge to mock her despite understanding where she’s coming from.

“I hear you.” Smoke grumbled, looking back over at her and returning his full attention to her.

"Yes, I wanna fuck. I wanna be fucked. I wanna be fucked so good that I can…barely walk the next day! I don’t know!" Divine went on passionately, throwing her arms in the air and dropping them.

"So...." Smoke trailed off, shrugging. "You want me to help you ask one of yo’ lil boyfriends to…fuck you?”

"No, Smoke." Divine said firmly, straightening her spine to boldly deliver her next words. "I want you to fuck me."

Smoke froze in shock, but a smile made its way onto his face as he eventually let out a small laugh.

When he realized that she isn’t laughing along and is serious, the most serious he’s seen her since they met, his smile faltered and his heart dropped.

“Wait, fo’real?”

“I’m not laughing, Elijah.” Divine said stiffly, crossing her arms across her chest.

"I'm not fucking you, D."

"What?" Divine asked, the disbelief and shock from the rejection evident in her tone. "Why? Come on! I-I trust you, Smoke! I know you won't hurt me, and—. Oh my God." She paused and frowned deeper. "You think I'm ugly."

Smoke smacked his lips, letting his head hit the cushion behind him with an audible groan.

"Nah, don’t “ahhughh”!” Divine spat, mocking his groan.

Caught off guard, Smoke barked out a laugh. He dropped his head in a fit of snickers as she pushed his shoulder with a mug.

“Bro, what the fuck?” Smoke wheezed in a fit of laughter.

“That's basically what the fuck you telling me!"

"Just because I don't wanna fuck you, don't mean you ugly, Divine." Smoke retorted with a chuckle.

"Is it because of my age?"

"Eh, in a way, I guess." Smoke admitted with a subtle shrug after thinking about it. "I don't have time for attachment and shit. It piss me off, honestly. I ain't tryna stereotype you, or virgins in general, but like....I like my women experienced. I like women who know how to get down to business, then gon’ ‘bout they day.”

“Smoke, that’s so me!”

“Girl, you don’t fucking know that ‘cause you never had to do it before.” Smoke tilted his head, giving her a bored look.

"Well, nigga, I can learn!"

"Divine, it's not that simple." Smoke said with an amused chuckle. "I'm sure there's plenty of niggas 'round yo' age that—"

"I knew I shouldn't have brought this up to you." Divine muttered, shaking her head with a scoff. "Should've just asked Stack."

"Who?" Smoke asked, raising a brow and lifting his head to properly look at her like she lost her damn mind.

“Bingo!” Divine thought, fighting the urge to smirk.

"Nobody."

"Don't fucking play wit' me, Divine." Smoke said sternly, making her roll her eyes with the soft, prideful smirk that she couldn’t resist.

The jokes on him, actually. He isn't scaring her, he's actually making her want to be fucked more. He doesn't even know why that remark irritated him so much. He just knows that it did.

"Look, I came to you because you're the only man that I trust with this. I trust you with me, and…I trust you to be honest, I guess.” Divine spoke seriously, looking away and fiddling with her long, black acrylic nails. "If you don't want to do it, that's fine. I'll just try to take your earlier advice. You can just give me pointers, or some shit, at least." She stressed, releasing a soft, anxious sigh at the thought.

“You can’t just play wit’ yourself?”

“It’s not the same.” Divine admitted with defeat. “It’s like there’s an itch there that I can’t scratch, Elijah.” She grumbled, sinking back into the couch and deflating.

Smoke stared over at her, lost in thought as he nibbled on the inside of his cheek. Divine shook her head as she stared at the ceiling.

When she sat up to speak again, attempting to change the subject, Smoke cut her off.

“You sure you want to?” Smoke asked with a never before seen tenderness that made her visibly freeze and her eyes to light up.

“Yeah.” Divine breathed out, nodding feverishly. “I-I do. I’m so sure.” She rushed out, softly smiling.

"Bet." Smoke said with a "fuck it" shrug and a heavy exhale. "C'mere."

Divine barely let him get his words out before she leapt onto his big, bulky frame.

Smoke firmly gripped her hips as she straddled him, staring down at him and biting back her smile. She don’t want to come off as too excited. She definitely don’t want to show just how much she’s been secretly dreaming and fantasizing about this.

Smoke stared up at her and examined her with so much intensity that Divine grew convinced that he’s reading her mind just as thoroughly as he’s reading her physical.

"You know how to kiss, right?"

"A little." Divine said softly, making him nod.

"Show me."

Divine leaned down, smashing her lips onto his. Smoke attempted to set the rhythm, but her eagerness overtook him, making him grip her neck firmly to physically try and slow her down.

When she didn’t get the message, a soft laugh slipped out of him, making her pull back and look down at him with a sheepish smile.

“You actin’ greedy as hell, right na.”

“Sorry.” Divine muttered quickly before leaning down, grabbing his face and gently locking her lips onto his—desperate to correct herself.

Divine began to follow Smoke’s lead and pace, her brows furrowing slightly at the newness of him introducing tongue.

When she got the hang of it to a point, the awkwardness seemed to fade as she melted into him, moaning softly and demanding more.

Smoke hummed softly in approval when she began to move her lips and tongue fluidly against his, gripping her hips with one hand and the front of her neck with the other.

This grip of her neck held an entirely different energy.

The warmth from the firm hold and the small, sexy sound of praise went straight to her core that's already hot, pulsing, and ready.

"Get up." Smoke rasped against her lips, nipping at her bottom one as she stared at him, dazed.

"Why?"

“We gotta get out these clothes to fuck, Divine." Smoke muttered with a soft laugh, causing her face to heat up.

"Oh…I knew that." Divine muttered, standing to her feet and giving Smoke the space to do so, as well.

Divine pulled her tank top over her head, letting her luscious globes fall free without shame.

Her nipples are erect and already stiff from the heightened sexual tension in the room.

Stripping herself bare for Smoke held a type of exhilaration that’s entirely different than doing it to make money at the club.

Her eyes fell on Smoke's heavenly sculpted torso as he tossed his hoodie to the side.

The sight of his gold chain against his gorgeously bronzed skin and his arm muscles flexing with minimal movement nearly made her mouth water.

Smoke noticed that she was staring and quirked a brow with a soft smirk. Divine flirtatiously smiled and turned her back to him, looking back to see him hungrily watching her shimmy out of her shorts and panties while he got rid of his sweats—leaving him in his grey briefs.

Smoke was behind her before she could even attempt to turn her front back in his direction.

A giggle slipped from Divine’s lips as he gripped her hair, loving the weight and presence of him hot and heavy against her backside.

“Call yo’self teasing me, lil girl?”

“I’m just doing what you told me to do, Elijah.” Divine said softly, feigning innocence while looking back at him and batting her wispy lashes.

Smoke hummed with a soft smirk, pulling her towards his dimly lit bedroom—the only light illuminating it being from his TV’s screensaver. He threw her onto the bed before looming over her and slotting himself between her legs, kissing her with slow, teasing intensity.

The anticipation made Divine whimper against his lips and lock her legs around him, chasing the friction that occurred whenever her swollen clit brushed against the bulk of him in his briefs with gentle shifts of her wide hips.

"Ever got yo’ pussy ate?" Smoke asked against her lips.

"Yeah, but I didn’t like it." Divine said with a soft whimper.

“What you ain’t like about it?” Smoke asked curiously, reaching between her legs and gathering some of her slick onto his thumb before circling it around her aching clit.

The sound of her breath hitching made his dick twitch in its confines, the man licking his lips as his eyes stayed locked with hers.

“It didn’t…feel like anything. It was really wet, too. Like, entirely too much spit.” Divine breathlessly giggled at the memory with a pleasurable sigh from Smoke’s ministration. “The only thing my pussy really likes is when I hump my pillow.” She admitted shyly, earning a chuckle from Smoke.

“I wanna see som.” Smoke muttered, giving her a light kiss. “I’m gon’ eat yo’ pussy. That’s okay wit’ you?”

Divine reluctantly nodded, scooting back and spreading her legs wider to give him more access.

When it comes to Smoke, she’s convinced she’d let him do anything that he wanted to do to her.

Divine sat up on her elbows, tilting her head as she watched his gaze brush over every inch of her pussy that’s wet and flushed from arousal.

Before she could ask him what he was looking at, Smoke spoke.

“Pretty.” Smoke muttered, that one word making her blush like crazy. Just as she started to shyly clamp her legs close, he held her open with a firm grip on her thighs and dove in.

Divine gasped and jumped softly in shock when his tongue brushed her clit.

He did that a few times, his deep brown eyes locked on her face, taking mental notes of every soft sound and movement she made.

Smoke swirled his tongue against it, making Divine press her hips down more towards his tongue as her mouth fell open.

“Shit.” Divine whined, head falling back and her hand gripping a fistful of his soft, grown out coils.

A loud, shameless moan shot out towards the ceiling when he suckled the nub sloppily, the sound of the action lewd and nasty.

“I think she likes my mouth, baby.” Smoke teased, earning a sultry and eager “mmhm!” from Divine.

Smoke used the notes that he took from her bodily responses and incorporated them into a messy, intricate rhythm that he unleashed on her entire pussy greedily.

Divine squirmed and bucked against his mouth, releasing sounds and cries that she didn’t even know she could muster.

The delicious, achy buildup in her core left her speechless as she tugged at the sheets above her head, mouth hung open and face twisted into a helpless frown of ecstasy.

Suddenly, her taut muscles went limp and she deeply shuddered as she let the coil of pleasure snap free.

Smoke hummed against her pussy and she let out a soft yelp, slapping the bed before gripping his hair with both hands.

Divine jerkily bucked her hips as she rode out the aftershocks against his flattened tongue and tender suction.

Smoke ceased the beautiful torture and kissed her inner thighs with a smirk as a breathless Divine shivered and dropped her hands down to rub his broad shoulders.

“You cum so fuckin’ pretty.” Smoke groaned softly, kissing up her body and placing kisses on her nipples before taking one in his warm mouth.

Divine arched into him with a soft moan, pussy pulsing when his teeth grazed the sensitive peak. He moved to the other, giving it the same attention as Divine pinched the one he just left.

"I think you ready for some dick, Divine." Smoke teased softly, making her let out a breathy giggle.

“Don’t treat me like a virgin.” Divine reminded him as he stood to his feet, removing his briefs. Her eyes locked on his dick, and her eyes lit up in disbelief.

It's at least eight and a half inches—thick with veins canvassing the smooth, deep, velvety skin. The sight should’ve scared the shit out of her, but instead, it made her stomach churn and clit pulse with excitement.

“The message still stands.” Divine sassed when she locked eyes with Smoke, noticing his silent, cocky demeanor.

“Ok.” Smoke said with a soft shrug, crawling back between her legs. “I'm not gon' baby you, but imma be careful."

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“It’s not, girl.” Smoke shot back, smacking his lips. “Shut up.”

"Yes, sir." Divine sarcastically retorted with a giggle.

“You ready?”

“Smoke, I been ready.” Divine fussed, rolling her eyes. “I can take it. If that change, I’ll let you know.”

Smoke wordlessly nodded, releasing some nerves of his own.

"The more you relax, the easier it'll go in."

“I know.” Divine moaned softly, melting into the sensation of him softly rubbing her clit with his thumb.

Divine closed her eyes and breathed deeply, gasping at the dull ache and pressure that followed her slit trying to accommodate him as he breached her entrance.

"Loosen—there you go." Smoke whispered through a strained groan as Divine let her body go limp despite the grimace on her face.

The buildup of her slick arousal reduced the friction tremendously, allowing him to sink the rest of himself into her with ease, but the full feeling and the way her pussy is struggling to mould around the heaviness of him made her toes curl.

"Look at you." He praised lowly, watching and feeling her pussy struggle around his length.

Divine released a loud sound of discomfort as she adjusted to the intrusion, digging her nails into Smoke’s back when he leaned down to kiss from her lips and jawline.

"You doing good. Real good, pretty." Smoke whispered in her ear, rubbing her thigh with one hand and brushing his thumb against her cheek with the other.

As the discomfort subsided, the throbbing heat inside of her made her let out a soft moan despite the foreign sensation.

Smoke took that as his cue to lift his head, pull out to the tip, and slowly sink back into her.

His forehead pressed against hers as he watched her brows dip and mouth part at the feeling of adjusting to multiple things.

The stretch. The fullness. The ache that’s no longer rooted in discomfort and seemingly felt to get soothed with each passage of his dick against her walls and cervix.

Before they both knew it, Smoke had picked up a steady pace and Divine’s back was arching off the bed—her body chasing more.

"Oh my God." Divine lewdly moaned. "Feels so good, Smoke. You feel so good inside of me. Oh my fucking—!" She squealed, legs trembling in his hold.

“Fuck, D.” Smoke hissed at her walls clenching and sucking him deeper as she shuddered with another orgasm and a broken, deep moan.

Smoke pulled out, earning a whine of displeasure from Divine from the loss. He’d be damned if he slip up and nut in her. He never did it before, and he has no intention of doing it tonight.

“I want more, Elijah.” Divine moaned shamelessly as he flipped her over, a little bemused at how needy she is for her first time. Divine arched her back deeply, rambling softly about his dick and how much she wants it.

“I got you, baby. I’m givin’ it to you.” Smoke muttered, placing a hand on the back of her neck and sinking back into her, earning a muffled, satisfied mewl from Divine and a shaky exhale from him.

Smoke didn't think Divine's virgin ass falling apart on his dick would be this sexy.

"Oooh, yes, Smoke!” Divine moaned when he began to pound into her after gradually picking up the pace, her toes curling tightly. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” She squealed with each thrust.

The sexy sounds of her moans and the squelching of her drenched pussy made Smoke’s head tip back, a soft, barely audible “shit” leaving his lips.

“This some good ass pussy.” Smoke grunted more so to himself. “Fuck, Divine.”

His large hands flew to her hips, holding her right where he wanted her as he pistoned into her harder.

"Yes, Elijah!" Divine moaned loud and desperate, looking back at him and digging her nails into his arm with her face still pressed against the bed. "Fuck my pussy! Fuck my fucking pussy!" She sobbed, tears of pure ecstasy soaking her face.

The sight of her boohoo crying from his dick rewired something in his brain. He's never seen anything so sexy—so desperate.

Yeah, he's had some of his flings shed a few tears here in there, but full on sobbing has his dick throbbing like crazy.

He's now in an internal war to keep from painting every inch of her walls with his kids, as well as holding off long enough to continue hearing those sweet, pathetic moans.

Smoke snatched her up by her hair and put her in a headlock as she softly trembled against him. “Give it to me." He spat in her ear. "Gimme this shit."

"Smoke, I gotta pee! Fuck!" Divine cried out, not sure if she wants to push him back or beg him not to stop.

Smoke muttered a soft "uh uh", prompting her to gladly choose the latter because it just feels too good. Plus, she trusts him.

"Right there! Don't stop, Smoke, imma—!"

As soon as his dick began fighting against the attempted expulsions of Divine's squirting pussy, he slammed deep into her—releasing with a loud, primal moan that mixed beautifully with her broken, high pitched yell and spurts of fluid.

Divine collapsed on the bed with, breathless sobs—her body trembling and nails digging into any part of him that she could reach back and grab as he fucked his seed deeper into her with ragged, jerky thrusts.

Smoke collapsed beside her after they both came down, chuckling softly at her appearing boneless where she lay with her eyes closed—absolutely wrecked and dazed.

Smoke slid out of her, spreading her open to admire the way his seed is leaking from her sweet, swollen pussy.

The sight made him shake his head, laughing lightly at the fact that he did exactly what he told himself he wasn’t gonna go.

Honestly, he doesn’t even have the energy to trip on it. He’ll just DoorDash her a Plan B later.

Smoke went into his bathroom and started the shower. He stepped back into his bedroom, scooping Divine up. She shifted awake, pressing a kiss onto his shoulder that’s damp with sweat as she locked her legs around his waist.

“Thank you, Smoke.” Divine’s hoarse voice croaked out. “Thank you.” She whispered.

Smoke simply kissed her forehead in response, standing her under the water as he got in himself, sliding the glass door closed behind them.

I know I said that I was going to be a one and done ass bitch on here, but ovulation compelled me to write a little something inspired by thoughts of Smoke taking my virginity 😔

BIG THANK YOU TO EVERYONE READING THIS! 🫶🏾❤️ I’m still not sure what I’m doing, but I’m still extremely appreciative of you all! 😭

Thank you for reading my shitty ass smut and indulging in my shitty ass fantasies! 🥰

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Stay Where I Left You

Summary: Zariah Saint-James is everywhere. Runways. Campaigns. Magazine covers. Private dinners packed with people rich enough to hide their intentions behind polished smiles and designer tailoring. The world knows her face before they know her voice, and lately her career is moving faster than she can keep up with.

Smoke lives in a different kind of world.

Warnings: Smoke x BRATTY OC SMUT. Spoiled, rich dark skin baddie x Daddy Dom/Strict!Smoke. Heavy dirty talk. Very descriptive smut. Spanking. Discipline.

[I didn’t tag since I am currently working on a new taglist. Apologies in advance. Wanted to give you guys something while I work on these updates!]

The car drops her a half step past the entrance like the driver doesn’t want to block the curb too long. Zariah steps out into a slice of low overhead light and the door shuts behind her with an expensive thud. The building doesn’t announce itself. There was no line, no loud music spilling out. Just a matte black door and a man who looks like he’s part of the wall until you meet his eyes. 

Zariah gives her name. The man checks it once, then again without looking like he’s checking anything at all, and opens the door. 

Inside, things felt different. Not quite the music, more like a pulse under everything. Velvet seatings. Dark wood. People who speak in half-voices and don’t repeat themselves. 

Zariah pauses just inside, long enough to take it in. It was just a breath, nothing obvious. Her shoulders settle into their usual line, chin level, eyes forward. Zariah belongs in rooms. That part is muscle memory. 

A hand touches her elbow lightly, her spine goes rigid. 

“Saint-James.” 

Zariah turns. Malik. He’s familiar enough to ease the first second of it. Zariah’s seen him at fittings, at a campaign wrap, once backstage where he talked too smoothly to be anyone’s assistant. Tonight, he looked sharper, but same smile though. Same confidence that assumes a yes before it’s given. 

“You made it,” he says. 

“Mm.” A small nod. “For a minute.” 

Malik steps in beside her, hazel eyes boring into hers, not blocking, just aligning. 

“Come on. I’ll show you around.” 

Zariah lets him guide the direction not the movement. There’s a difference. He knows people here. That’s useful. He speaks in low tones as they move, greeting without stopping, names traded like small coins. When he introduces Zariah, his hand rests at the small of her back for a second too long, then lifts. 

“This is Zariah. Saint-James.” 

Heads turn. Not many. Enough. 

She offers the version of a smile that doesn’t invite questions. 

“Hi.” 

A woman in a silk slip dress made by some foreign designer studies her, then softens, “I know your face.” 

Zariah dips her chin once. “That happens.” 

A glass appears in her hand without her asking. She doesn’t drink it yet. She holds it, lets the cool settle into her palm. Malik leans in to say something near her ear. His breath brushes too close. Zariah tilts her head just enough to hear without giving him the rest of the space. 

“Good room,” he says. “Keep your face around.”

“Mm.” She takes a small step forward, easing the distance. “I’m not staying long, Malik.” 

They drift to a cluster near the bar. Four men, maybe five. Conversation tight. Phrases that loop around meaning instead of landing on it. Numbers, but not spoken like numbers. Very mysterious in a way that makes you wonder. Zariah listens without looking like she’s listening. That’s a skill she learned early. One of them glances at her, then at Malik. A beat. A question that never becomes a question. 

Malik answers it anyway.

“She’s good,” he says, easy. “She with me.” 

One of the men drags their eyes over Zariah.

“This you, Malik? Whatever happened to that French model you had on your arm during fashion week?” 

“You know that was all business,” Malik leans into Zariah, placing his hand on her lower back. “This is Zariah Saint-James. She’s gonna be the new face taking over the fashion industry. Ain’t that right, baby?” 

Hums of approval circulated.

Zariah stills. Not a freeze. A correction. She turns her head, just enough to catch his eye. Her voice stays light, even.

“I came by myself, actually.”

It lands clean. No edge. No apology. 

A couple of the men look away first. Malik’s smile doesn’t falter, but it tightens at the corners. 

“Yeah,” he says, like he meant it that way. “For a minute.” 

“For a minute,” she repeats, and lifts the glass to her lips without drinking. 

Zariah notices the details in the room now. How people stand angled instead of square. How no one laughs too loud. How eyes track movement without turning heads. This isn’t a creative room. Not really. It wears the shape as a disguise but the weight under it is something else. Something she clearly didn’t prepare herself for. Because this space was dressed up like any other she’d been in. But clearly, this room full of powerful people was another side of stardom she didn’t understand enough.

Malik introduces her again, this time to a man in a dark suit with a watch that probably costs more than what Zariah is worth. Older. White. The man’s gaze rests on her a fraction longer than it needs to. 

“Pleasure,” he says. 

Zariah meets it, steady. “Mm.” 

He smiles like that answer told him something. Zariah blinks away quickly.

Malik’s hand returns to her waist, guiding her half a step closer to the circle as if to anchor the introduction. She lets it sit there for a second, then shifts her weight, a small turn of her hips that leaves his hand with nowhere natural to land. It falls away. 

“I’m gonna grab something,” she says, already moving. Heart racing.

Stay,” Malik whispers, soft enough that it could pass for a suggestion. 

Zariah doesn’t stop. 

“I’ll be right back.” 

At the bar, she can breath better. She sets the glass down untouched and rests her fingertips on the smooth marble of the bar top. Her reflection glides along the surface, broken by light. Zariah smoothes the line of her dress at her hip, more to ground herself than to adjust anything. 

Her phone buzzed once. Zariah glanced at it. A text from a stylist about a call time tomorrow. She types back a quick answer, then locks the screen. Behind her, the private lounge continues like it didn’t notice her stepping away. 

Malik returns, closer than before. Zariah stiffens.

“You good?”

“I’m fine.” Zariah keeps her gaze on the bar, then turns to Malik. “I’m heading out in a second.” 

“Already?” Malik smiles, but there’s something under it now. “You just got here, baby.”

“I said a minute.”

Malik leans in again, voice low. “Don’t do that, Zariah. It’s a good look for you to be seen here. I called some connects. Got you on the list…the least you can do is play along. Don’t you want that Vogue spread?”

Zariah holds his gaze. 

“I’ve been seen.”

There was a pause. Malik’s eyes search her face like he’s trying to decide how far to push. It was making Zariah feel uncomfortable. 

“Come meet one more person,” he says. “Then you can go.” 

Zariah considers it. Quick. The room presses at the edges of her awareness. 

“One,” she says. 

Malik nods like he won something. They cross the floor again. This time, the path feels longer. Or maybe she’s more aware of it. The man Malik wants her to meet stands near a corner where the ambiance is softer. He looks up as they approach, already informed. 

“Saint-James,” Malik says. Like he’s placing a piece on a board. “Told you.” 

The man’s eyes take her in without apology. Dark. Unreadable. A face so chiseled it could only be described as a plastic surgeon’s work. 

“I’ve seen you. That shoot with Alberto Rodriguez. Stunning. Versace.”

“Thank you.” Her tone stays even.

“I’m Westley.” He smiles. “You’re in the right room.”

Zariah meets that without returning it, “I’m in the room I walked into.” 

Malik laughs under his breath like she said something charming. The man doesn’t laugh. 

For a second, no one speaks.

“…well. It’s nice to finally meet you, Saint James. Hopefully the next time we meet, It’s us working together.”

Zariah lets it sit. Then, she inclines her head, gives Westley a faint smile, small and final.

“I’m heading out.”

Malik’s hand ghosts at her back again, then stops when she doesn’t slow. “I’ll walk you.”

“No, you’re good.” Zariah turns slightly, enough to keep it polite, not enough to invite him to follow. “I got it.”

Zadiah moves toward the door with the same pace she walked in with. Composed. The man at the door opens it before she reaches for the handle. 

Outside, Zariah exhales, a real one this time, and steps onto the curb. For a second, she stands there, looking back at the black door like it might explain itself if she gave it long enough. 

It doesn’t. 

Zariah pulls her phone out to call her driver, thumb hovering over the screen. Then, she stills. 

A small thought crosses her mind. 

I should’ve said something.

The ride back felt longer than it should have. Zariah sits angled toward the window, city lights dragging across the glass in streaks of gold and white. Her phone sat in her lap, the screen dark. She picked it up once, unlocked it, then locked it again without doing anything. Her reflection stared back at her faintly in the window. Same face. Same poise. But there was something tighter around her eyes now. 

She exhales and leans back. 

By the time the car pulls up, most of the lights in the surrounding units are off. Her driver tells her goodnight. Zariah answers without thinking and steps out, her heels landing soft against pavement. Inside, the elevator ride was short. Too short. She watches the LED numbers climb, arms folded loosely, thumb brushing over her wrist. Not nervous. Just…aware. 

The elevator doors open. The hallway leading into the hall of her apartment building is dim, lined with soft recess lighting along the ceiling. Her steps are steady and cloaked by the hand-tuffted carpet runner in dark green as she walks to her door. Zariah reaches into her bag, pulls out her keys, and unlocks it. 

The door opens with a hiss. 

And the first thing she notices is the light. It’s already on. It wasn’t every light, but enough. The living room. The kitchen. 

He’s here. 

Smoke is sitting on one end of her sectional, elbows resting on his knees, hands loosely clasped. No TV. No phone. Just him. And that was enough to make her pause. 

He looked up when she stepped in. Zariah pauses just past the foyer for half a second. Then, she sits her bag down on the coffee table. 

“When did you get here?” She asked, proceeding to take off her heels like everything is normal. 

Smoke doesn’t answer right away. His eyes stay locked on her. 

Then—

“Where you come from?”

Flat. No extra weight in the words. That’s what makes it land hard. Zariah slips her other shoe off, placing them beneath the coffee table. 

“Out.” 

A beat

“With who?”

Zariah straightens, smoothing her dress down at her hips before turning to face him. 

“Some people from work.” 

Smoke’s gaze doesn’t break. 

“What people?” 

Zariah tilts her head slightly, studying him now. 

“Why you askin’ like that?” 

Smoke leans back just enough to rest against the sectional, but his eyes remained glued to her like he was seeing past the guard she was trying to obtain.

“Answer the question.”

Zariah’s jaw sets for a second. 

“I told you. Work people.”

Silence. It stretched just enough to be felt. 

Then—

“You was at that lounge on Mercer.” 

It wasn’t a question. Zariah’s eyes flicker once. She wasn’t surprised. Just confirmation that she knew he would be keeping an eye on her location. 

She folds her arms loosely. 

“…Yeah.”

“Who took you there?”

“My driver dropped me off. I went by myself.”

Smoke’s gaze sharpens just a fraction. 

“Don’t do that.” 

Zariah’s brows pull together. “I just told you—”

“Who brought you in?”

His voice doesn’t rise. It just tightens. Zariah exhales through her nose.

“A creative I know. Malik was there.”

Smoke leans forward slightly, forearms resting on his knees again. 

“Malik.” 

Smoke repeats it like he’s placing it somewhere. Then, he looks back at Zariah. 

“And you thought that was somewhere you should be.” 

There was no question in it. Zariah shifts her weight onto one leg. 

“I’ve been in places like that before.” 

“No,” Smoke says, cutting through it. “You haven’t.”

That hit. Zariah’s arms drop from where they were closed. Her posture straightens. 

“You don’t know every place I’ve been,” Zariah replies, voice firmer now. 

“I know that one.” 

Zariah studies him, eyes narrowing slightly. “You actin’ like I walked into something crazy, Smoke.” 

He holds her gaze. “You did.” 

Zariah’s lips press together. For a second, she looks like she might push back harder. 

“I was fine,” she says instead.

Smoke’s expression doesn’t change. “No, Z. You wasn’t.”

Short. Final. 

Zariah’s breath catches slightly, more from the certainty than the words themselves. She looks away for a second, then back at him. 

“I handled myself. Like I always do.” 

The corner of Smoke’s mouth twitched. Enough to part his full lips and reveal silver slugs. He watched her with a slight squint of his eyes. Because he knew. He always knew. 

“I’m sure you think you did, baby.”

That stung more than anything  else he’d said. 

Her chin lifts just a touch, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. 

“I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Silence again. This time more overbearing. Smoke leans forward more, closing some of the space between them without standing. 

“Look at me.”  

Zariah’s eyes snap back to his. She holds it. 

“I am.” 

Then, Smoke asks, calm and direct. “He put his hands on you?” 

Zariah stills. Her fingers curl slightly at her sides. 

“It wasn’t like that.” 

That’s not an answer. 

Smoke’s gaze doesn’t waver. 

“Did he touch you.” 

Zariah exhales. “…Yeah.” 

Another pause. 

“Where.” 

Her jaw tightens. 

“At my back. My waist. He was just—guiding me.” 

Smoke nods once, slow. “Guiding you.” 

He repeats it, but it wasn’t like he agrees. 

Zariah shifts her weight again. “I moved. I corrected it.”

“I know you did.” 

That catches her off guard. Her brows lift slightly. 

“You know?” 

“I know how you move.” His tone hasn’t changed, but something underneath it has. “And you still stayed.” 

There it is. 

Zariah’s shoulders drop just a fraction. 

“I was trying to leave without making it a thing.” 

Smoke sits back again, dragging a hand over his face once before letting it fall.

“You already was a thing the second you walked in there.” 

Zariah’s gaze softens, just a little. She looks at him for a long second, then speaks quieter. 

“I didn’t know it was like that. That he…that it was more than making connections. Helping my career. I–I didn’t realize he was tryna push up on me, Smoke.”

Smoke watches her. And for the first time, something shifts in his expression. Edged with something else. A softness rarely seen.

“I know you didn’t, Z. That’s the problem. Because he could have taken advantage. Like that nigga always do.”

Zariah exhales, slow. Her shoulders ease. She steps a little closer now, enough to close some of the distance. 

“I hear you.”

It’s quieter than anything she’s said so far. Real. Smoke holds her gaze a moment longer. Then, he leans back against the sofa, one hand resting on his jaw.

“Next time,” he says, voice steady, “you tell me where you goin’.” 

Zariah nods once. “…Okay.”

She means it, but she looks away right after she says it, eyes drifting toward the kitchen like the conversation might loosen if she doesn’t hold it. 

It doesn’t. 

The sofa creaks as Smoke Stands. He steps toward her, closing the space she left between them. Zariah’s shoulders tighten just a fraction as he stops in front of her. 

“Don’t look away.” 

Smoke’s voice stays low and firm. Her eyes lift back to his, slow and steady. Smoke studies her for a second. Then, his hand comes up, fingers settling under her chin, thumb along the side of her jaw. 

“Look at me when I’m talkin’ to you.” 

Zariah’s breath shifts. She doesn’t pull away. 

“Mkay,” she replies with a soft voice. 

“You walked into a space where nobody in there is who they say they are,” he says. “Not to you.” 

Zariah watches him, listening.

“…That wasn’t no industry lounge,” Smoke continues. “That’s a place people use to meet when they don’t want nothin’ traced back to ‘em. Deals get made in there that don’t got nothin’ to do with clothes or cameras. People walk in there one way and come out different. This industry will chew you up and spit you out, baby. I know it.”

Zariah’s brows pull together slightly. “I didn’t hear anything like that.”

“You wasn’t supposed to,” he answers, just as even. “That’s the point.” 

Zariah’s lips part, then press together again. Smoke’s thumb shifts against her jaw, grounding her attention back to him. 

“And that nigga, Malik?” Smoke goes on. “He ain’t no creative you just ‘know’. He move with people who use faces like yours to get in rooms easier. To make things look clean.”

Zariah’s posture straightens. She exhales. 

“He didn’t do anything to me. I wouldn’t have let it get that far, Smoke. I had it under control,” she says, a little firmer. “And I didn’t even expect to see him tonight. A friend of mine put in a word. I…I just…I figured it was just some exclusive party for A listers and I could—I could walk in there and—”

“I didn’t say he did anything.” Smoke cut her off. “I said he put you somewhere you shouldn’t have been. And that friend? I wouldn’t be surprised if they a part of it. So you need to cut them off.” 

Zariah’s gaze flickers, then steadies again. 

Smoke leans in just slightly, enough to make sure she’s locked in with him. 

“I’m in this enough to know how that goes,” he says. “I seen how fast it turns. You walk in thinkin’ it’s one thing, and next thing you know you tied to somethin’ you don’t even understand yet.”

Zariah swallows lightly. Smoke’s eyes stay on hers. 

“And I don’t play about what’s mine.” 

There’s no rise to his voice. No dramatics. Just fact. Zariah feels that one’s it sits heavy on her chest. Her fingers curl slightly at her sides, but she doesn’t break eye contact. Smoke lets that hang for a second before continuing. 

“So listen to me,” he says. His hand drops from her chin, but his presence doesn’t pull back. “When you go somewhere, you let me know first.” 

Clear.

“You don’t just show up anywhere off impulse. I don’t care who invited you.” 

Zariah nods, lips scrunched up. “Okay.” 

“If you walk into a spot and somethin’ feel off,” he continues, “you don’t stand there tryin’ to figure it out. You leave.” 

Zariah’s lips part slight like she’s about to speak but she lets him finish. 

“You call me,” he says. “I’ll come get you. I don’t care where you at.”

Certainty. 

“And if somebody put their hands on you,” Smoke adds, voice still low, “or make you feel any type of way…”

He paused, enough to let Zariah know he’s dead ass serious. 

“You tell me. And I’ll handle it. My way.” 

Zariah’s breath slows. “I will.” 

Smoke studies her, making sure. 

“Say it again.” 

Zariah’s eyes stay on his. “I’ll tell you.” 

Smoke hums, then he nods his head before leaning down to kiss her forehead, then her cheek, and ending with her lips. A soft peck that stirs her. Zariah breaks the kiss, exhales, then she looks at him. 

“I didn’t know—”

“I know, baby girl. Just…listen to me, okay? You know this shit triggers me when you go off doin’ shit that make me worried. I’m serious, Z. Don’t do this shit again.” 

She purses her lips, but ultimately gives him another kiss, falling into his big embrace that swallows her.

Correction. 

Weeks pass. At first, Zariah tells herself Smoke is just being attentive. Protective. Present. 

After the lounge incident, Smoke starts rearranging his life around hers in ways that don’t announce themselves immediately. It begins small enough to almost feel thoughtful. He starts picking her up from late shoots instead of sending a driver. He waits outside fittings in black SUVs with the engine running while she changes out of couture and campaign makeup under bright studio lights. When she lands in another city for a show, he’s already there before she reaches baggage claim, one hand wrapped around a coffee cup, eyes scanning the terminal before they settle on her. 

Smoke never makes a scene. Never acts possessive in public. That’s what makes it harder to argue with. To everyone around her, Smoke looks dependable. Solid. The type of man women brag about having.production assistants smile when he takes garment bags from their hands. Publicists relax when he quietly checks exits and entrances before an event. Designers greet him like they trust him instinctively, even when they don’t know why. 

And Zariah hates that part a little because he’s so good at it. Too good at it. 

Her world keeps moving at full speed while his begins orbiting around it with frightening precision. Editorial spreads in Paris. Beauty campaigns in New York. Fashion week dinners packed with actors, athletes, stylists, investors, people who speak in air kisses and coded conversations. Zariah is everywhere lately. Her face is in windows three stories high. Magazine covers. Digital campaigns looping across giant screens downtown. And somehow, Smoke is always there now too. 

Not beside her. Near her. Outside the room. At the car. 

Watching. 

Waiting. 

The first few times, Zariah lets it go. She tells herself it’s temporary. That he’s going to go back to work doing what he does that’s so top secret and get bored of all the glitz and glam. That he’s trying to make a point after what happened with Malik and the lounge. But the weeks stretch and instead of easing up, Smoke becomes more involved. 

More structured. 

He starts asking for schedules in advance. What event. Which hotel. Who invited her. Who’s attending. What time she expects to leave. 

Not interrogations. 

Expectations. 

And that’s what starts irritating her. Because Zariah has spent her entire adult life moving independently through spaces exactly like these. She built her career on instincts, timing, reading energy, staying graceful under pressure. Men in fashion flirt. Men in entertainment hover. Wealthy people invite you places with hidden motives attached to every smile. She learned how to survive that years ago. So when Smoke starts appearing downstairs before she even calls for a car, something in her begins pushing back automatically. 

She stops texting updates as quickly. Leaves details out. Answers questions vaguely. 

“Just work.”

“A dinner.” 

“Somewhere in SoHo.” 

Nothing technically disrespectful. But it was enough for Smoke to notice she’s testing the edges of what he said in that apartment weeks ago. And Smoke noticed everything. Especially patterns. Especially when someone starts moving different on purpose. 

The irritation builds on both sides slowly, layered beneath long workdays and late nights. And the worst part is she can’t tell where protection ends and control begins anymore. 

Zariah’s up early, wrapped in a robe, hair slicked back into a bun, glass skin and fuzzy Louis Vuitton slippers on her pedicured feet. She’s standing at the kitchen counter with her phone propped against a glass of hot water with lemon and ginger. A call time gets pushed. A fitting added. A dinner penciled in. Her voice stays even, professional, the version of her that never slips. 

“Yeah, I can make that,” she says. “Send me the address.” 

She doesn’t mention it to Smoke. Not when she hangs up. Not when she toasts her sourdough bread to add slices avocado and sliced smoked salmon. Not when she walks past the living room where Smoke is sitting, reading. 

He glances up when she crosses. Zariah doesn’t stop. 

“I got a dinner tonight,” she says like it’s an afterthought. “Brand people.” 

Smoke nods, “what time?”

“Eight.” 

“Where.” 

Zariah takes a sip of her water. 

“I’ll text it.”

Smoke studies her for a second longer than usual. Then, nods again. 

“Aight.” 

And Zariah doesn’t text it. Not at eight. Not at nine. She’s already dressed and out the door by the time the reminder crosses her mind, heels clicking down the hallway, phone buzzing in her hand with another message that isn’t his. 

When she comes back, Smoke’s in the same spot. That’s the first thing she notices. Not the fact that he’s there. The fact that he hasn’t moved much.

Zariah steps in, sets her bag down, slips her heels off. 

“You been sittin’ there all day?” Zariah asks, light, like she’s asking about the weather. 

Smoke’s eyes lift to her. “Where you just come from, Zariah.” 

Zariah walks past him, heading toward the kitchen. That little fancy plate of French food wasn’t enough to settle her hunger. She considers ordering in some Pho from her favorite Vietnamese restaurant. 

“I told you,” she says. “Dinner.” 

“With who.”

Zariah opens the fridge, bends over, little cocktail dress rising up, almost revealing no panties. She scans it like she’s actually looking for something. 

“People from the brand.” 

Smoke doesn’t say anything right away. But his jaw ticks. Zariah pulls out a bottle of water, shuts the fridge, leans against the counter. 

“You ask a lot of questions,” she says, taking a sip.

There’s a small edge to it. A sassy little tone that reeks of an attitude that needs to be checked. 

Smoke watches her unblinking. 

“I asked you where, Zariah.” 

She shrugs one shoulder. “It was in the city.”

That’s it. That’s all she gives him. And she knows it. Something stills in Smoke. He’s locked. Smoke sets his phone down on the table beside him. Slow. Then, he stands. Zariah watches him this time. She doesn’t look away. Smoke walks toward her, closing space like an imposing shadow. Zariah straightens a little as he stops in front of her. She braces her hand on the counter behind her. Smoke’s eyes narrow slightly, orbs darkened with frustration. 

“You ain’t text me nothin’.” 

Zariah takes a sip of her water, avoiding his eyes as if the vase across from her on the dining room table was more interesting. 

“I was busy.” 

Smoke tilts his head. “I told you, Z. You go somewhere, you let me know.” 

Zariah lifts her gaze, chin lifting slightly. Defiantly. 

“And I heard you.” 

There it is. That fucking tone. 

Dismissal.

Smoke’s gaze tightens just a fraction. “But you ain’t do it.” 

Zariah shrugs, “I got there, everything was fine. It wasn’t a big deal.” 

Smoke stepped in closer to where she was nearly pressed between his solid frame and the countertop behind her. Her breathing shifted but she checked it as best as she could. 

“It was to me.” 

Zariah rolls her eyes. She pushes off the counter, standing fully now. 

“You can’t expect me to check in every time I step outside, Smoke,” she argues. “That’s not how I move and you know that.” 

More edge now. More bite. Zariah knows she’s pushing. Smoke watches her for a long second. Then, he exhales once through his nose. 

“You think that’s what it is.” 

It wasn’t a question. 

Zariah folds her arms. “I think you’re doing too much.” 

The silence was heavy. 

Then. “Say that again.” 

Zariah holds his gaze. Doesn’t flinch. 

“I said you’re doing too much.”

Smoke’s haha comes up, firm fingers gripping her jaw, turning her face just enough so she can’t angle away. 

“Don’t do that.” Smoke said, low. Controlled yet deep.

“I’m just sayin—”

“NO,” Smoke cuts in, sharper. “You talkin’ like what I said don’t matter. And that’s a problem for me.” 

Zariah’s eyes flash. “That’s not what I—”

“That’s exactly what you doin’.” Smoke’s grip tightens. “You hear me them weeks ago. Loud and clear.” 

Zariah’s chest rises and falls a little quicker now. 

“I did.” 

“But you moved like you didn’t.” 

There’s no way around that. Zariah looks at him, really looks this time. There’s something building in her too. It wasn’t fear. It was friction. 

“I’m not one of your operations,” she says. “You don’t get to run me like that.” 

Smoke scuffs. “Aight.” 

He releases her jaw. Steps back half a step, and that almost feels worse. 

“You right,” Smoke says. And it’s too calm. “I don’t run you.” 

Zariah’s shoulders ease slightly. But only for a second. 

“Which means,” Smoke continued, “you make your own decisions.” 

Zariah watches Smoks cautiously now. 

“And you deal with whatever come with ‘em. You don’t call me. You don’t tell me where you at. You don’t move how I told you to move—”

Smoke pauses. Not long. 

“You on your own with that.” 

Zariah’s brows pull together. “That’s not what I—”

“You wanted independence,” he says, cutting in, still calm. “I’m givin’ it to you.” 

Zariah studies him. 

This isn’t him trick to control her. This is him stepping back. And that doesn’t feel how she thought it would. 

“You serious?” She asks. 

Smoke nods. “I don’t chase grown decisions, ma. But don’t stand in my face and act like what I said ain’t carry weight.”

Zariah exhales. She folds her arms and juts that hip out. Lip poked. She looks at Smoke for a long second. Then, softer, but still holding onto herself: 

“That’s not what I was tryin’ to do. And you don’t mean none of that shit. Soon as I leave you gon’ be right there , outside, waitin’ on me. Tell me I’m wrong?”

Smoke cuts his eyes at her. Then, he walks off. Leaving Zariah fuming. 

Zariah spends the rest of the evening like she lives alone. That’s the first thing that gets under Smoke’s skin. 

Just…dismissal. 

She moved through the luxury apartment with that polished calm of hers, never quite looking at him, never quite acknowledging the weight sitting in the space between them. She replies to texts on the sofa with one knee tucked under her, laughing softly at something on her screen, walks past him like he’s furniture. 

Smoke says her name once. 

Zariah hears it. He knows she hears it because her shoulders tighten for half a second. But, she keeps on walking. That does more than attitude ever could because now she’s choosing it. And one trigger of Smoke’s, one thing that really ticks him off—being ignored. He watched her enter her bedroom. Smoke sits there another few seconds, jaw working once. 

Then, he stands. No rush to it. He rolls his shoulders once, loosening the tension sitting there. Smoke reaches for the watch on his wrist and sets it on the side table. Neatly. That alone would tell her everything if she saw it. Smoke never tosses things. When he starts setting items aside with care, he’s making room for discipline. He walks to the kitchen, pours a glass of water, drinks half, sets it down. Runs both palms over his face, then drags one hand across the back of his neck. 

Collecting himself. Not cooling off. Centering. 

By the time he reaches the bedroom, the bathroom door is cracked open from the steam, he pushes the door open wider and steps inside. Zariah is standing in front of her vanity, fingers hooking the thin straps of her sleek black cocktail dress. She tugs one strap down her shoulder, exposing smooth dark skin inch by inch, the fabric whispering at her elbows while she twists to face the mirror, grabbing her hair to pile it high, pinning it loose but secure with a claw clip. 

Smoke leans against the frame, hoody heavy against the door jamb, arms crossed over his chest, fitted black tee stretching across his pecs. His eyes track every peel of fabric like he owns the view. Tension crackles thick from the kitchen standoff earlier, her defiance still simmering hot under her skin. 

She sees him in the mirror, and now she’s taking off her strapless lace bra and matching thong. Completely naked and glowing like her body was slathered in liquid gold. That little performance almost makes him smile.

Almost. 

“You done?” Smoke asks. 

Her voice stays light. “With what?” 

“With this act you tryna put on to piss me off.” 

Zariah grabs a plum-colored silk robe from a wall mounted hook, hiding that beautiful body. 

“I’m getting ready to shower. Then I’m going to bed. I have a busy schedule tomorrow, Smoke.” 

Smoke closes the bedroom door. The click of the latch is small but it lands. Zariah’s fingers pause over the tie of her robe. Only for a second. Then, she resumes, adjusting the front of her robe like nothing changed. Smoke walks up until he’s directly behind her, watching her reflection instead of her directly. 

“You been real busy not seein’ me tonight.” 

Zariah shrugs one shoulder. 

“I’ve been minding my business.”

“That so.” 

“You got something to say,” she says, voice even, “say it.”

“I did.” His tone is lower now. “You ignored it.” 

Her chin lifts a little in the mirror. 

“Maybe I was tired of hearing it.” 

Smoke’s hand comes to the robe knot at her waist, fingers brushing the bow but not pulling it loose. Zariah finally turns them, eyes lifting to meet his. 

There’s a challenge there. Smoke matches that, boring his eyes into hers like he was asking her telepathically ‘you really wanna take it there, baby girl?’. His gaze dropped briefly to the robe that barely hugged her frame, the one she loved to put on after her showers. The one she wore whenever her skin was slicked with body oil so it could mold to her body in ways that had Smoke dickin’ her down to put her to bed properly. 

“You been pokin’ at me all night.” 

Zariah folds her arms over her chest. 

“Maybe you’re easy to poke.” 

That earns a quiet breath through his nose. And he wasn’t amused. 

He steps closer until there’s no way for her to forget he’s there. The heat of him reaches her before contact does. Her spine straightens automatically. Smoke notices. His hand slides to her jaw, thumb settling near her chin, guiding her face up. 

“Wrong answer.” 

Zariah’s lips part.

She means to say something slick. He sees it forming.

But the words stall when his other hand reaches down,  tugs the robe knot loose in one pull, then lets it fall open on its own. He takes a small step back, eyes downcast to admire her. Take in the view like she was modeling nudity for his eyes only. Robe parted wide and framing that long, elegant frame without hiding a damn thing. 5’10 of slim-thick lines hit different up close. Her long torso stretched down to a waist he could circle with both hands and still have room, dipping into hips that curved fuller from the side, that rich brown skin glowing warm.

Her chest rose steady with each breath, full and natural, nipples tightening just from the air or maybe his stare, elegant shape softening the sharp edges of her shoulders and collarbones. He clocked the subtle give in her stomach, toned thighs long from runway miles pressed together slight, calves flexing strong as she held runway poise even now. 

Smoke’s eyes never leave hers.

“That attitude you got,” he says quietly. “I’m ‘bout done with it.”

“You ain’t my bodyguard no more, Smoke,” Zariah snaps, voice laced brat-sharp. “Stop actin’ like you run shit. I do what I want.” 

Smoke chuckles low, rumble deep from his chest rolling out gravel-thick, his hand shoots out to snag her wrist before she grabs the front of her robe, pulling her half-turn into him, cedar scent faint mixing with her floral perfume. 

“Yeah, but who you come runnin’ to when you needed help? Who handled things to make shit easier for you? Roughed niggas up that got too close? Would kill anybody that so much as try you?” Smoke drawls slow, southern thick, free hand palming the front of his joggers where his thick bulge thickens obvious. “Yeah, but you was feenin’ for this dick. We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you beggin’ me to fuck you in that dressing room. Remember? Or you forgot just like you forgot who the fuck I am. And when I say somethin’, you do as you told.” 

Smoke’s eyes never left yer face, unblinking and coal-dark, jaw set under stubble. 

Zariah yanks her wrist free, twisting away but stays close, turning full to shove her palm flat against his chest, pushing half-hearted, his pecs unyielding under her spore as fingers. Zariah leans in, chin high, lips curling into a smirk. 

“And wasn’t you the one that couldn’t wait to fuck me?” She fires back, hip cocked. “Ain’t never had a bitch like me in yo’ life. Soon as you got a taste, you obsessed, right? That’s why you still actin’ like a good little soldier. Now who’s in control now, big bad Smoke?” Her voice pitches taunt, one hand sliding down to trail the ridge of his abs where his tee clings, nails scraping light to test the flex. 

Zariah walks off, brushing past him. Smoke snorts  breath. 

“Control? Lil’ girl, you testin’ ropes right now.” Smoke growls. His large Pam clamps her hip, yanking her flush from behind, his hard dick against her ass. His beard grazes her cheek as his head dips. “That dressin’ room…you hiked that dress, spread your legs wide, pussy was drippin’ and beggin’ for my tongue first. Then you rode this dick cryin’ daddy til you squirted all on this dick. Obsessed? Yeah…I ain’t got a reason to deny shit. But you hooked, baby girl. Chasin’ this nut every night since.” Smoke’s fingers trail up the arch of her spine, his other hand cupping her ass cheek. 

Zariah gasps sharp, twisting her hips, bucking against him, but eventually she breaks the hold. 

“Hooked? Please. You stalkin’ my every move like a lost puppy.” She spits, laughing brittle, backing toward the bathroom door. “Body guard days over, but you still guarding this pussy like it’s yours. And I’m glad you know exactly how obsessed you are.” Her eyes flash, lips parting to rest her tongue at the corner of her mouth. 

Smoke steps forward, hands shooting out to brace the doorframe over her head, caving her without touch. 

“Mine? Damn right. Till you prove otherwise.” He rumbles. “Go ‘head, shower off that dinner, but don’t think slamming doors gon’ end this talk.” His eyes rake over her body, dick tenting the front of his joggers. Zariah places her palm flat against his chest before giving him a final shove to the ripple of muscle, the door swinging hard bang latch catching. The shower turned on beyond the door and as much as Smoke wanted to open that door, he waited. Waited until he heard that shower shut off.

Zariah is standing at the vanity in nothing but a towel, lotion bottle in hand, acting deeply interested in the label. She bends to reach for her toner in the cabinet beneath the sink. The bathroom door opens, the humidity in the bathroom turning the air chill. The fog on the glass began to disappear. The way she knows exactly where he is behind her without turning around. She just wants him to know she can ignore it. 

Zariah rises slowly, and sets her toner on the sink with careful precision. 

Still won’t turn. 

Zariah swallows. Her arms start to cross over herself instinctive. Smoke catches both her wrists and lowers them back at her sides. 

“No.” 

Zariah looks at him now, fully. Some of the bravado thinning at the edges. Because she knows this version of him. The one who gets calmer the more serious he is. He releases her wrists only after they stay where he put them. Then, he steps back half a pace and gestures toward the counter. 

Smoke steps behind her, broad hand spreading over the back of her neck for one steady second, claiming her attention. 

"Good," he says.

The steam from her shower clings to the air, thick and warm, fogging the mirror above the sink in faint swirls. Zariah stands there naked, skin dewy, water droplets tracing slow paths down her shoulders and the curve of her back. The towel lies discarded on the floor by her feet, leaving her fully exposed. Smoke’s hand lingers at her neck a beat longer, thumb pressing firm against her pulse, anchoring her in place. The heat of his palm seeps into her, carrying that familiar cedar scent that always seems to cut through everything else. Smoke's chest brushes her back as he closes the space. Zariah can feel the expansion of his black tee against her shoulder blades when he draws a controlled breath.

"Hands on the sink," he tells her, voice low and even. 

Zariah does not move right away. Her chin lifts a fraction, eyes flicking to his reflection in the mirror, holding his gaze there. Bold still, testing. 

“For what?” she asks, tone carrying that edge she knows gets under his skin, words clipped. 

Smoke doesn’t rise to it. His free hand slides down her side, large fingers splaying over her hip, gripping just enough. The veins in his forearm stand out as his muscles flex. 

“You know why,” he says. “All that mouth. Ignoring calls. Acting like rules don’t stick. Time to fix it.”

Zariah exhales through parted lips, a subtle shift, but her hands stay at her sides. Her posture remains upright, feet planted on the cool tile. Inside, she feels the pull, the way his presence makes the steam feel heavier, but she pushes back one more time.

 “I was busy. You act like I owe you every second.”

Smoke's grip tightens on her hip, thumb digging into the soft flesh there. He leans in closer, lips near her ear, breath warm against the damp shell. 

“Busy playin' games. Poking. Now I’ma show you. But that’s what you wanted, right?” His other hand lifts from her neck, trails down her spine, ending at the swell of her ass. He cups one cheek fully, squeezing hard enough to make her shift her weight.

"Hands. Sink. Now."

This time, her body responds before her mouth does. Palms flat on the cool porcelain edge, fingers splaying wide. She arches her back slightly without meaning to, ass pushing out toward him, skin prickling under the humid air. Her eyes stay on his in the mirror, defiant spark still there, but her breathing picks up, chest rising faster.

“That's better. So, you do as you told then?” he says, stepping fully behind her now. His feet plant wide on the tile, knees bracketing her legs as he positions himself. One hand stays on her hip, holding her steady. The other rears back, large palm open, veins bulging along his wrist.

The first smack lands solid across her right cheek, skin meeting skin with a sharp crack that echoes off the tiled walls. Her ass jiggles from the impact, flesh purpling instantly under his handprint. Zariah's fingers curl against the sink, a hiss escaping her teeth, but she bites down on anything louder.

 “That all?” she throws back, voice tight, trying to keep the bold front.

Smoke sees it. The way her thighs tense, pussy lips glistening between her legs from more than just the shower. He knows she’s wet, knows the defiance is her last push before she settles. His dick barely had room to grow in his joggers, that thick length pressing against the seam as he watched her in the mirror. 

“Keep talkin',” he warns, hand coming down again, harder this time, left cheek taking the full weight of his swing. The slap rings out wet in the steam, her ass bouncing, a fresh mark blooming dark against her skin.

Zariah gasps, knees buckling a touch, but his grip on her hip keeps her upright. Heat spreads across her backside, stinging deep. 

“Fuck,” she breathes, eyes narrowing at him in the glass. “You mad at me daddy?”

Smoke doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he delivers three quick spanks in succession, alternating cheeks, each one heavier than the last. Palm cracks against flesh, her ass rippling with every strike, turning hot and swollen under his assault. Her pussy clenches visibly, slickness dripping down her inner thigh, betraying how much she needs this correction. Smoke's free hand slides between her thighs from behind, thick fingers parting her folds roughly, middle finger plunging into her soaked pussy without warning.

“This what you wanted?” Smoke growls low, pumping in and out once, twice, feeling her walls grip him tight. She moans despite herself, hips bucking back. But he pulls out just as quick, smearing her juices over her ass before landing another brutal smack right where her cheek meets thigh.

Zariah's head drops forward a second, elbows locking on the sink, but she lifts it back up, meeting his eyes again. 

“Keep goin' then,” she challenges, voice breathier now, the bold cracking at the edges.

Smoke's chest rumbles with a low sound, approval mixed with hunger. That big dick throbs, straining as he tugs his joggers down with one hand, freeing the curved shaft and wide tip. Pre-cum beads at his slit, heavy length slapping against her bruised ass. But he ain’t done punishing her yet. Smoke grabs a fistful of her wet hair, pulling her head back gently but firm, forcing her to arch deeper. 

“Count 'em,” he orders.

His hand cracks down again, full force, the loudest yet. Her ass quivers, marked deep purple, heat radiating. 

“One,” she grits out, pussy aching empty.

Another on the other side, palm stinging his own skin from the velocity. “Two.”

Smoke spreads her cheeks with his thumbs, exposing her tight asshole and dripping slit, then spanks right across both, the impact jarring her whole body. 

“Three,” she moans, thighs shaking. Teeth chattering. 

Smoke leans over her, his dense midsection pressing into her back, shirt damp from the steam and her skin. His beard scraping her shoulder as he bites down lightly there, marking her while his hand rains down five more measured strikes, each one pushing her closer to breaking that last wall. Her counts come faster, voice turning needy, ass on fire, pussy clenching around nothing as viscous arousal slicks her legs. By the tenth, she is panting, body trembling in his hold, bold facade shattered into raw want.

 P-Please,” Zariah whispers finally, not begging wildly but settling, hands gripping the sink.

Smoke pauses, rubbing his palm over the abused flesh, soothing the burn while his tip nudges her entrance, thick head parting her lips. 

“Good girl,” he says, voice thick with possession. 

Then he thrusts in deep, stretching her pussy wide around his girth, filling her completely. His hips snap forward once, deep and punishing, fat dick buried to the hilt in her dripping pussy, stretching her walls tight around his thickness. 

When he eased that fat length inside her it opened her pussy with a slow burn, the girth demanding space as it sank deep. The curve to the right caught along her slick walls, dragging firm pressure against the sensitive ridge there with each inch that followed. Long and solid, bottoming out steady, filling her to the limit while her body adjusted around the thickness pulsing hot and full. Every shift would send that curve nudging the same spot over and over, building a tight coil low in her belly that made her thighs tremble without her meaning to. Zariah's breath catches sharp, body jolting against the sink, but Smoke pulls out slow, leaving her clenching empty, creamy slick coating his shaft. Not done yet. Her ass still needs more work, cheeks blazing hot under his palm prints.

Smoke's hand cracks down again, heavy and mean, right across both bruised globes. The slap echoes wet in the bathroom, her flesh rippling, thighs quivering from the sting. Zariah whimpers low, knees buckling inward, but his grip on her hip locks her straight.

“I don’t know why the fuck you act like you tough, baby,” Smoke growls, voice thick with that Mississippi drawl, low and gravel-rough, breath hot on her neck. His free hand fists her wet hair tighter, yanking her head back so her eyes lock on his in the fogged mirror. Dark brown gaze bores into hers, heavy-lidded and unblinking. “Why the fuck you keep actin’ up? Huh?”

Another smack lands harder, palm flattening her left cheek, sending fire blooming deep. Zariah’s legs shake harder, pussy leaking fresh wetness down her inner thighs, mixing with shower droplets on the tile. Zariah bites her full lip, trying to hold the sound, but a needy whine slips out anyway, body arching despite the burn.

“Why? Answer the fuckin’ question,” Smoke demands, leaning his solid chest heavier against her back, tee clinging damp to his thick torso. The weight of him pins her forward, broad shoulders eclipsing her reflection. His cream-coated dickthrobs hot against her thigh, pre-cum smearing her skin, but he holds off, rubbing her sore ass roughly with his rough palm, veins popping along his forearm whenever he would grip the flesh with his fingers. 

Zariah exhales shaky through parted lips, fingers digging into the sink edge, porcelain cool under her palms. That bold edge frays, but she pushes one last time, voice breathy and tight. “I heard you...just didn’t think…”

Crack. His hand swings full force, spanking the spot where ass meets thigh, jolting her whole frame. Her pussy clenches hard, clit twitching, inner lips trembling from the impact, visible drip falling to the floor. Her legs trembled bad now, barely holding her up.

“Didn’t think what? That I mean what I say?” Smoke presses closer, beard scraping her shoulder as he leans in to kiss the spot where his teeth was minutes ago, soothing it. He spanks again, rapid fire—three in a row, alternating sides, each crack louder, her ass swelling fuller, hot to the touch. 

“You went out there actin’ like my words ain’t shit. Ignorin’ calls. Playin’ like you run this. Nah, baby. That stops now.”

Zariah’s whimper turns into a gasp, body softening under the onslaught, shoulders dropping a fraction. She feels his control sink in deep, the dense gravity of his frame making the steam thicker, her vanilla-musk scent mixing with his cedar smoke. 

“Y-Yeah... I hear you,” she admits quieter, chin lifting less defiant, eyes holding his with that flicker—irritation yielding to the weight.

Smoke pauses, large hand soothing over the fiery flesh, squeezing possessive. But his voice stays mean, drawl dragging slow.

 “Too late for that hearin’ shit. You gonna learn tonight.” That dick nudges her slit again, thick head parting her soaked folds, teasing that creamy entry without giving it what it wants. One more spank, brutal across the fullest part of her right cheek, making her cry out soft, hips bucking back involuntary.

“Count the rest. And don’t make me ask twice.”

Her voice comes steady now, reined in, body present under him. “E-Eleven.”

Smoke’s hand lifts off her throbbing ass cheek, fingers digging into the heated flesh one last time before shoving her shoulders down firm. Enough with the slaps. Time to shut that mouth up proper. Her knees hit the wet tile with a soft smack, water slick under her shins. Zariah’s dark eyes lift to his, breath still ragged from the burn, but she don't hesitate. Her body shifts smoothly, settling low, full tits swaying as she balances on her heels.

Smoke steps up close, black tee clinging to his broad chest, sweat and shower mist beading on his deep brown skin. One thick hand wraps the base of his dick, pulling it free from where it hung thick and heavy between his muscular thighs. Almost as thick as her forearm, easy nine inches stretching out straight at first, then curving wicked at the tip like it know exactly where to hit deep. Girth thick around, veins bulging ropey along the dark shaft, skin a rich chocolate shade fading near the fat, flared head that's glossy with pre-cum leaking steady. Heavy balls swing low underneath, plump and full, hanging loose in that wrinkled sac, dark and musky from the heat. Whole thing pulses alive in his grip, smelling of clean soap mixed with his natural cedar-earth scent up close.

“See this dick right here, baby? You wanna talk back, runnin’ yo’ mouth like you run shit? Get this dick in that throat,” Smoke growls low, drawl dragging thick and mean, free hand tangling rough in her wet curls. He yanks her face forward, smearing the leaking head across her plump lips, leaving a shiny trail. “Suck big daddy’s dick. Put that mouth to work since you actin’ all tough. Throat it deep, show me you learned somethin’ tonight.”

Zariah parts her lips wide, tongue flicking out to lap the salty bead from his slit before she stretches her jaw open. Head disappears first, her cheeks hollowing as she sucks hard around the ridge, pulling him in inch by girthy inch. Those full Saliva spills quick, dripping down her chin. She trained for this, months of him working her down slow at first, gagging her till she took every curve without choking. Now she slides forward steady, throat relaxing open, feeling that bend nudge the back of her mouth then slip past her tonsils smooth.

The soft flesh of her lips stretches wide and presses flush against his shaft as she sinks lower, creating a tight seal that drags with each slow pull. Wet suction fills the quiet with each bob of her head, the sound thick and wet as her mouth works to take more. Heat and pressure builds around Smoke from the way her lips clamp and slide, her tongue pushing up from below while her throat opens to pull him deeper with every descent.

Zariah’s face pulls tight around that thick girth filling her mouth, her cheeks drawing inward in deep hollows that frame the shaft with sharp definition as she sinks lower. She maintains a steady rhythm of long, controlled pulls, her tongue pressing firm and flat underneath while her throat opens to swallow more with each descent, creating a constant wet drag and suction that tightens on the upstroke. Her jaw works visibly with the effort, lips sealed flush and sliding in a smooth, milking motion that builds pressure without pause.

Smoke groans deep in his chest, hips bucking shallow to feed her more. “Yeah, that's it, fuckin' swallow this big dick. You know how I like it, don't play. Deeper, baby, choke on it if you gotta, but don’t stop.” His voice rumbles harsh, hand guiding her head, thick fingers pressing her nose toward his trimmed pubes. His fat nuts slap light against her chin as she bobs, throat bulging visible with his length buried fully. Zariah gags once soft, eyes watering, but pushes through, humming low around him, tongue pressing flat underneath to stroke the bulging vein.

Smoke watches her work in the mirror, heavy-lidded eyes narrowing mean. “Look at you, all that fire earlier, now you slurpin' dick like a good lil’ girl. Shoulda did this from jump, keep that ass in line and yo’ throat full. Mmm, suck harder, baby. Drain these nuts dry.” His grip tightens in her hair, fucking her face, pulling out to the tip with a wet pop before slamming back in, curve hitting her gag reflex perfect every thrust. Her hands brace his thick thighs, nails digging into the dense muscle, feeling him flex under her palms as drool strings from her stretched lips.

Zariah’s pussy aches empty between her spread knees, thighs slick with her own drip mixing on the floor, but she focuses, hollowing her cheeks tighter, swallowing around his girth to milk him. Her nose buries in his coarse hairs finally, balls snug against her chin, holding him deep till her lungs burn. She pulls off gasping, strings of spit connecting her mouth to his shining shaft, then dives back, faster, head twisting side to side for friction.

“That’s my girl, train that throat right. You ain’t goin’ nowhere till I bust down yo’ neck,” Smoke grunts, free hand cupping her jaw rough, thumb smearing spit back in. His heavy balls draw up tight, dick twitching hard in her sucking mouth, but he holds off, drawing it out mean. “Keep goin’. Earn that forgiveness, baby.”

Zariah’s right hand wraps around the base of his thick dick, fingers barely meeting around the girth as she strokes up slow, twisting at the swollen head slick with her spit. She sucks deeper on the pull back, lips sealed tight around his veiny shaft, tongue swirling under the curve that presses her cheek out. Her left hand steadies on his heavy thigh, nails scraping light into the dense muscle as she bobs faster, throat opening wide to take him balls-deep again, humming vibrations along his length.

Smoke's eyes narrow sharp, watching her work from above. His big palm cracks down quick on her stroking hand, slapping it off his dick with a wet smack. 

“Nah, baby. Hands where I can see ‘em. Up behind yo head or on them thighs. This mouth mine now.”' He grabs a fistful of her wet curls tighter, yanking her head back just enough to pop his dick free, strings of saliva stretching long before snapping. Then he thrusts forward, burying every curving inch straight down her throat in one push, balls smacking her chin heavy.

Zariah gasps around the invasion, eyes watering, but puts her hands in her lap. Her throat bulges with his girth, the  bend lodging deep, cutting off her air till black spots dance. He don't let up—hips snap forward, fucking her face, pulling out to the flared head where she gasps ragged, then slamming back in, pubes grinding her nose.

“Fuckin’ tired of yo games, Zariah. All this bullshit you pullin’,” he growls low, thick and gravelly, voice echoing off the tile. Smoke picks up meaner, dick pistoning her mouth, heavy balls swinging to slap her jaw each thrust. “Back when I was yo’ bodyguard, dealin' with yo’ spoiled, uptight, prissy ass barkin' orders left and right. Actin’ like you own the world, snappin’ at me like I'm one of yo’ lil' errand boys. Had to bite my tongue, watchin' you strut ‘round thinkin’ you untouchable.”

Zariah’s knees spread wider on the slick floor, thighs quivering as drool pours down her chin, soaking her tits glossy. She gags hard on a deep plunge, throat convulsing around his pulsing shaft, but holds the position, hands laced tight in her lap, fingers twitching to grip something. That wet ass pussy throbbed neglected, juices trailing down to puddle under her.

Smoke grunts deep, free hand bracing the sink edge, muscles flexing in his thick arm as he rams harder, curve dragging her tonsils raw. “And now? Now you on this dick, slurpin’ like you starved, and still think you run shit? Nah, baby girl. I run it. Always did. Just lettin’ you play pretend till I remind this lil’ ass who in charge.” He yanks her hair sharper, holding her nose-deep, balls snug on her chin, grinding slow circles to stretch her throat wider. “Feel that? Feel daddy ownin' this mouth? You gon’ take every inch till I say stop. No more actin’ brand new.”

Zariah’s chest heaves desperate around the blockage, tears streaking her cheeks mixing with spit, but her eyes stay locked up at him, defiant spark fading to raw submission. She swallows around his girth, milking the veiny underside, tongue pressing frantic when he pulls back for air. Her hands stay put, obedient, elbows trembling from the strain as he resumes pounding, wet gurgles filling the humid air, his heavy balls tightening with each brutal thrust.

Smoke abruptly snaps his hips back, dick leaving her throat. Zariah sucked in a lung full of air, sniffling, teary eyes cloudy as she looked up at her daddy with a bite of her bottom lip. She’d sucked a few dicks in her twenty-nine years of living but she would have never thought a nine inch, veiny monster would fit down her throat. Normally, she would pat herself on the back, but right now, Smoke was pissed off. Her reward would come later. Right now, she’s a throat to fuck and nothing more. Her eyes went hazy from staring at his hard dick bobbing and twitching in her face, glossy and dripping with saliva. She knew he was close because his tip was a deep purple and it flared so wide it left the corners of lips raw. The map of veins along his shaft bulged in size, and his nut sack sat full and loaded with cum. 

“Open up.” Smoke commands.

Zariah does as she’s told, eager for more. That big dick slid in smooth and full, making her eyes roll. 

Smoke's hips jackhammer faster now, thick dick plunging her throat raw brutal snaps, the curve battering her tonsils. His balls draw up tight, slapping her chin wet and relentless, his breath turning into ragged grunts as the pressure coils low in his gut. Sweat beads down his solid chest, tee clinging damp to the full slabs of pecs heaving with each drive. He feels her throat spasm greedy around his girth, milking him closer to the edge.

“Eyes up here, Zariah. Look at me while I feed this throat,” he snarls, free hand clamping her jaw firm, thumb digging into the hinge to force her gaze up. Watery brown eyes meet his dark, heavy-lidded stare, hers wide and pleading, his burning with ownership. “Hands in yo’ lap. Fingers laced. Don't move ‘em.”

Zariah shifts quickly on her knees, pulling her elbows in to drop her hands to her thighs, palms up and fingers interlocking obediently in her lap like a proper slut. Her thighs quake wider apart on the tile, pussy clenching empty and dripping strings of arousal to the floor. Her jaw slackens under his grip, relaxing loose as he demands, lips stretched obscene around his pistoning shaft, drool bubbling out the corners to sheet down her neck and pool between her heaving tits.

“Good girl. There you go, relax that jaw. Let daddy bust,” Smoke growls deep, gravel scraping rough, pace turning erratic, hips stuttering as his dick swells thicker in her gullet. His balls contract hard, and he slams balls-deep one final time, grinding his pubes flush to her nose, holding  as ropes of hot cum erupt straight down her throat. Pulse after thick pulse floods her, warm, slightly salty jets coating her esophagus, forcing her to gulp convulsively around the buried length.

He don't budge an inch, big hand locked on her curls, the other on her jaw, keeping her pinned nose-deep while she swallows every drop—no spill, no waste. Her throat works visible under the skin, bulging swallows pulling his load down greedy, chest fluttering desperate for air around the blockage. Her eyes remain locked on his, tears carving clean tracks through the spit mask on her face, but that defiant spark's gone fully, replaced with raw, owned surrender shining back.

Smoke holds till the last twitch fades, dick softening just enough in the wet heat, then eases out slow, dragging the sensitive underside over her lolling tongue. Strings of cum-mixed saliva cling thick, snapping as the flared head pops free. She coughs hoarse, sucking air in big whoops, hands twitching in her lap but staying put, lips puffy and glossy. He strokes her cheek with his thumb, smearing the mess, voice dropping low and satisfied. 

“Every drop. That's how you take what’s yours. Don’t forget who run this shit.”

Smoke’s thick fingers loosen from her curls, sliding down to hook under her arms with that unyielding grip, hauling her up off the tile slow and steady. Her knees wobble jelly-soft, thighs slick from her own dripping need, but he steadies her full against his sweat-damp shirt, broad chest rising firm under her cheek. His big hand cups her elbow, the other spans low on her back, guiding her bare feet over the bathmat and out the steamy bathroom door.

He snags a clean washcloth from the sink edge first, soaking it under hot tap water till steam curls off, then presses it gentle but thorough to her chin, wiping away the glossy streaks of spit and tears. His thumb traces her swollen lips, the cloth dragging over puffy cheeks and her jaw, leaving her skin flushed warm and bare. 

“There. Clean slate, baby girl,” he rumbles low, voice that quiet thunder rolling deep from his chest.

The king bed dominated the dim space, sheets rumpled from earlier. He sinks onto the edge, thighs spreading wide like tree trunks, then tugs her forward to drape her naked body across his lap face-down. Ass up high, cheeks still blooming hot from the spanking, pussy lips peeking swollen and slick between spread thighs. His weight shifts the mattress deep, one massive palm flattening broad on her lower back to anchor her still, the other dipping into the jar of balm on the nightstand. A cool, thick shea and aloe mix he keeps stocked for nights like this.

His fingers dig in generously, spreading the cream in firm circles over her left cheek first, kneading the stinging heat away, thumb pressing into the tender underside where it meets thigh. Smoke switches to the right after a while, palms gliding slick, parting the globes slightly to smooth the balm down the cleft, grazing her puckered hole and dipping low enough to tease her soaked folds without mercy. 

“You know why that ass got lit up, Zariah,” he starts, tone even, dangerously calm wrapping each word like barbed wire, dragging vowels long and weighted. “Pushin’ me like that, testin' boundaries when I done told you how it's gone be. Mouth runnin’ reckless, darin’ me to snap. I spank you again and again if you keep triggerin’ this fire. Don’t make me prove it twice more tonight.”

His hand keeps working, the balm sinking in as her skin drinks it greedy, cooling the fire to a throb. Smoke’s palm cups one cheek full, squeezing soft, then leans down to press open-mouth kisses along the curve—lips dragging hot and wet, tongue flicking out to taste the salted balm on fevered flesh. Peck after peck trails inward, nipping the fullest swell before soothing with flat laps.

“Mmm,” he draws back, biting his bottom lip, her slick sticking to his goatee, “pussy puffy from me popping that ass,” Smoke takes two fingers, tapping her pussy lips, labia peeking through like petals. “I know you love it when daddy turns you out like a fuck doll…pussy leakin’ for it. But safety first, always. Top of my list. You play brat, defy what I say to keep you whole, that shit upsets me deep. I’d kill anybody—end ‘em slow—who so much as touches a hair on your head. Bleed ‘em dry for less.”

Smoke’s voice stays level, no rise, just that steel edge slicing through, breath ghosting her skin between kisses, one hand landing square on the sit-spot welt. Smoke pauses, hand stilling to pat her ass possessive, waiting till her breath evens soft against the sheets.

“Now, you know what I want you to do. Say it clear.”

Zariah shifts slightly across his lap, thighs clenching, posture holding upright even prone, spine straight, hands smoothing the bedspread once to ground herself. Her voice comes soft, that self-possessed edge threading through.

“…I’ll listen to what daddy says.”

“Good girl, keep goin’.”

Smoke’s palm resumes stroking the balm in, fingers parting her cheeks wider for a deep kiss right above where her puckered hole sat, his tongue circling lazy.

“…I—I’ll stop being m–mean to daddy…and understand t–that he’s trying to protect m–me, not control me,” her full lips press thin a beat, exhale parting them tense, brown eyes flicking back over her shoulder to hold his gaze steady. Even though her body couldn’t stop shaking.

“Mm. That’s my girl,” another peck lower, between the under cuff of her ass where her thighs met, “finish it.”

“H–He wants me to continue t–to be independent…but understand that m–my man w–wants and needs to step up. To provide, protect, a–and spoil me. To create a life for me w–where I can continue to be t–the phenomenal women that I am. The beautiful woman t–that I am. The sexy woman that I am.”

Her words came out even in some ways and shaky in others. No plea. Only quiet dominance and echoing his, her body relaxing fuller into his lap as the balm soaked deep. Smoke nods once, satisfaction etching his heavy-lidded stare. He gave his girl a final kiss planted firm on her tailbone, one large, calloused hand sliding up her slick spine to tangle light in her hair, tugging her head back gently for more eye contact.

“That’s my girl. Good job. Now…rest that ass here while daddy thinks up how to spoil you next.”

Smoke positions Zariah on her stomach across their bed. He spreads her thighs wide from behind and lifts her hips into the right tilt. Smoke dips his head and admires her pussy lips sitting in the shape of a heart below her ass that glistened from the balm. His tongue moves in slow strokes from the base of her pussy upward, gathering every bit of wetness. He seals his lips around the folds and sucks them clean with steady pulls before pressing soft kisses along the slick skin. His tongue dips inside to lick deeper then returns to lap and suck without rushing, working through the mess until only his mouth leaves her glistening.

Zariah’s body rocks with small shifts under his hold. “Yes daddy." Her voice comes thick. “Thank you daddy.” She pushes back a fraction as his suction holds on her clit. “I love it when you eat my pussy.”

Smoke keeps his pace while his voice rumbles low against her. “Stay open for me. Let daddy clean every drop. You taste so good when I take my time like this.” He kisses her tender entrance then sucks again, tongue circling slow. “That’s it. Give it all to me.”

Zariah shifts her hips back in a slow roll, pressing her soaked folds against Smoke's mouth. He meets each motion by sealing his lips around her clit and sucking with firm, steady pressure, drawing the swollen bud between his lips in a gentle pull before releasing. Her thighs tremble under his grip as she rocks again, grinding back for more contact.

"Oooo," she breathes out, the sound stretching long. “Fuck. Yes.” The words slip free between moans while her body keeps moving, seeking that same suction each time she pushes her pussy toward him.

Smoke's tongue works in skillful laps, flattening broad against her entrance before dragging upward to circle her clit again. His voice stays low and even, vibrating right against her skin.

 “That’s right, keep bringing it back  like that. Let me suck on this pretty pussy. You feel how wet you stay for me?” Smoke proves her opening with the tip of his tongue to catch some of that wetness. “I can taste every bit of it, so sweet and thick on my tongue. Gon’ fuck you so deep after this, stretch you open slow with every inch until you can't think straight. This pussy gon' take it all, and I'ma give it to you proper.”

Snoke sucks with more pressure on her clit as she rocks back once more, holding the pull for a beat longer before easing off to lick through her folds. “Tastes so damn good, baby. Can't get enough of how you drip down my chin.”

Zariah’s voice comes out husky between her moans. “You love this pussy, baby?”

Smoke answers without lifting his mouth, the words rumbling straight into her. “Daddy love this pussy. Best fuckin’ pussy I ever had.”

Zariah’s voice lifts soft and questioning as she rocks back once more. “Daddy?”

Smoke answers with a low hum that vibrates against her folds, the sound deep and steady while his tongue continues its work.

Zariah pushes again, her words coming clearer now. “Daddy I wanna watch you eat my pussy.”

In one smooth motion Smoke flips her onto her back, his hands guiding her body with controlled strength. He pulls the black tee over his head and drops it aside, leaving him fully naked as he settles between her open thighs. Zariah spreads wider for him, and he eases down to keep his mouth on her, licking and sucking with focused attention. She grinds her pussy into his mouth, hips rolling to meet each pull of his lips. Smoke gently pushes her thighs open further, holding them apart so he can slurp directly on her clit with wet, smacking sounds. He stays right there, working that spot alone because it builds her up fast. Her body tenses and then releases in a sudden rush as she squirts, the warm fluid spilling over his tongue and chin while he keeps sucking through every pulse.

Smoke stays locked between her thighs, refusing to ease up. His tongue drags in long, wet strokes that feel heavy and thick against her folds, each one landing with pressure that makes her hips twitch. Zariah’s pussy quivers under the attention, the sensitive skin pulsing and tightening as he circles her clit again and again. He holds her legs open wider with firm hands, keeping her spread so nothing interrupts the steady motion of his mouth. The wet sounds grow louder with every lick, and he focuses right there, building the heat until her body starts to tighten once more. She grinds down into him, chasing the sensation as the pressure coils deep inside. His tongue works without pause, thick and insistent, pushing her straight toward the edge until she breaks again, fluid spilling over his lips while he keeps sucking through the pulses.

Smoke stays locked in place, his mouth sealed over her pussy as he sucks deeper, pulling her swollen clit between his lips with steady pressure. His tongue follows in thick, wet drags that lap up every fresh trickle of her arousal, working in firm circles that make her thighs shake in the air. Zariah keeps her legs spread wide, knees bent and feet towards the ceiling, giving him full access while her hips roll in small, desperate circles against his face.

Her body reacts in waves. The muscles in her lower belly tighten and release with each pull of his mouth, sending ripples across her frame. Her rich brown skin glistens with sweat, the soft curve of her waist flexing as her back arches off the bed. Her breasts rise and fall faster, nipples tight and dark against the air. Inside, her walls pulse and flutter around nothing, clenching with every lick that drags from her entrance up to her clit. More slick heat spills out, coating his tongue and dripping down his chin as he swallows it down without pause.

“Uhuh, yeah baby.” Smoke rumbles against her, voice low and thick with command. “Keep those legs open. Let me feel you gettin' close. I want every drop this time. Right in my fucking mouth. Feed me.” His words vibrate through her core, pushing the tension higher. Smoke sucks again, lips sealed tight while his tongue flicks quick and firm right on that sensitive spot, building the pressure until her moans turn ragged.

Zariah’s hands fist the sheets. Her pussy quivers harder now, the inner walls squeezing in quick spasms that grow stronger with each pass of his tongue. The heat coils low in her belly, spreading outward until her toes curl and her breath hitches in short gasps. "Haah—Fuck," a sharp inhale caught in her throat, then she breathes out, the word breaking on a moan as another rush of wetness floods his mouth. Her hips jerk upward, chasing the sensation while her thighs tremble around his shoulders.

Smoke doesn't let up. He slides two fingers inside her, curling them against that spongy spot while his mouth keeps working her clit in wet, insistent pulls. “I know you feel it buildin’. Don't hold back on me. You gon’ give it all, you hear me?” His free hand presses her thigh wider, keeping her open as her body winds tighter. Her stomach flutters visibly, the muscles jumping under her skin. Her pussy clenches around his fingers, gripping and releasing in a steady climb toward the edge.

"I'll be your good girl—” Zariah gasps, voice cracking as the pressure peaks. Her whole frame locks up for a beat, then shatters. A hot rush pours from her, squirting in pulsing waves straight into his mouth. Smoke groans low and drinks it down, tongue still moving through the contractions that ripple through her walls. Her orgasm rolls on, body shaking as fresh slick spills over his lips and chin, her moans filling the room while he holds her through every last spasm.

Smoke lingers between her thighs after the last tremors fade, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses against her slick folds. Each one lands soft, his lips brushing over the swollen heat while his tongue gives the lightest flick to catch the lingering taste. 

“That’s a good girl," he whispers low against her, the words vibrating through her sensitive skin. “Took every bit of it just like I said. Look at you, still shakin’ for me.” His praise comes steady and warm, laced with that deep southern drawl that settles right into her bones.

Zariah’s breath hitches in the aftermath, her body still sprawled open on the sheets. Her rich brown skin gleams from the vanilla oil, a fine sheen of sweat tracing the narrow dip of her waist and the soft flare of her hips. Her breasts rise and fall in quick, shallow pulls, nipples drawn tight from the rush that just tore through her. Inside, her walls continue to flutter in small, involuntary pulses, the aftershocks making her thighs twitch around his shoulders even as she keeps them parted for him.

Smoke trails those kisses upward, dragging his mouth across the smooth plane of her lower belly. Each press of his lips leaves a ticklish, wet mark that cools against her heated skin, moving higher with unhurried purpose. His hands slide along her sides, palms broad as they frame her ribcage. When he reaches her chest, he pauses at one peaked nipple, drawing it between his lips with a firm, wet pull. His tongue circles the tight bud then strokes while he sucks, the pressure sending fresh sparks straight down to her still-throbbing core.

Zariah arches into the contact, a broken moan slipping free as her fingers thread into the sheets again. The pull at her nipple feels sharper now, heightened by how raw everything still feels below. Her other breast settles against his cheek when he shifts to give it the same attention, sucking deep while his tongue works in lazy, insistent laps. 

“So damn responsive,” Smoke rumbles between pulls, voice thick with approval. “Every part of you knows who it belong to.”

Zariah’s legs ease wider on instinct, the earlier tension melting into a loose, pliant sprawl. The muscles along her stomach quiver visibly under his path, and her hips give a small, involuntary roll upward as if chasing more of the contact even though he's moved on. Smoke keeps his mouth latched, alternating between gentle suction and firmer draws that make her back bow off the bed, her full lips parting around another shaky exhale.

Smoke stays latched on her nipple, drawing it deep into his mouth with sucks that make her whole chest tighten. His tongue works in firm circles, pressing and flicking against the stiff peak while his teeth graze just enough to send sharp little jolts straight through her. Zariah’s rich brown skin flushes darker across her breasts, the full weight of them rising and falling with every breath as he switches sides, sucking the other nipple just as hard, his broad hand cupping the first one to keep the wet heat from fading.

Her pussy responds fast, slick folds parting on their own as fresh wetness slips out in a steady drip that trails down toward the sheets. The sensation builds low and insistent, her clit twitching in time with each strong suck, the tiny bud swelling and pulsing without any direct touch. Her slim-thick thighs part wider on the bed, hips rolling in small, helpless circles as the throbbing between her legs grows heavier, matching the pull of his mouth.

Zariah’s long legs tremble as another rush of heat floods her core. She can feel it clearly now, the way her pussy clenches around nothing, dripping steadily while her clit jumps and aches for friction. Smoke doesn’t let up, his lips sealed tight around her nipple, sucking with that deep, focused technique hat leaves her gasping. His free hand slides down her side, palm broad against the curve of her waist, holding her steady as her back arches higher off the mattress.

“Look at that,” he says low, voice rough against her skin between pulls. “Your body tellin’ on you. Drippin’ all over just from this.” He drags his tongue across the sensitive tip one more time, then seals his mouth around it again, sucking harder until her clit twitches visibly with the next wave of wetness sliding free.

Zariah’s breath comes in short, shaky pulls, her full lips parted, eyes half-lidded as the pressure builds. Every strong draw from his mouth sends fresh heat straight down, making her pussy clench and release, more slick gathering and spilling out in warm trails. Her clit keeps twitching, swollen and sensitive, the empty ache growing sharper with each passing second. She rolls her hips again, seeking something, anything, but Smoke keeps her pinned with his weight and his mouth, focused entirely on working her nipples until the dripping and twitching leaves her shaking.

When he could see that pussy weeping the way he needed it to, Smoke releases her nipple with a slow drag of his lips, the wet pull leaving a shiny trail across her deep brown areolas. He rises over her, his thick frame blotting out the light above the bed as he lowers his mouth to hers. The kiss lands heavy and unhurried, his tongue pushing past her parted lips to stroke deep, carrying the taste of her own sex. Zariah meets him without hesitation, her full lips pressing back while her breath hitches against his. Her hands slide up his arms, fingers curling around the dense muscle there as the kiss stretches on, turning hotter with each slow pass of his tongue.

Her body stays open beneath him, thighs spread wide on the sheets. The steady drip from her pussy continues, warm slick sliding down the curve of her ass and soaking into the sheets right along with the puddle she made from squirting. Her clit keeps twitching, swollen and sensitive, each pulse sending fresh heat through her core. Zariah rolls her hips upward, seeking the press of his weight, the hard length of him brushing her inner thigh as he settles closer. Smoke's hand moves to cradle the back of her neck, holding her still while the kiss turns rougher, his teeth catching her bottom lip for a brief tug before his tongue claims her mouth again.

His hand lingers tangled in her curls, thumb stroking the nape of her neck in lazy circles 

“Spoil you proper now,” Smoke rumbles that reminder, voice vibrating through her bones. His big palms slide down her sides, gripping her hips firm to flip her upright in one smooth hoist, straddling his thighs now, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips. That heavy and rigid, curved dick all thick-veined and standing tall from those low-hanging balls, say wedged between her pussy lips, tip glossy from pre-cum beading thick.

Zariah braces her hands on his full chest, fingers splaying over his pecs, feeling the dense muscle shift under her palms as he breathes deep. Glossy brown eyes lock on his heavy-lidded stare, lips parting on a soft exhale, posture straight even perched like this, thighs flexing to lift her hips. Zariah sinks down slowly, pussy lips parting wide around his girth, swallowing the flared head first with a wet stretch, inner walls clenching greedily as inches disappear inside. Halfway down, she pauses, breath hitching, hands smoothing over his pecs to steady herself. 

Smoke’s arms snake around her, one thick forearm banding her lower back, the other spanning shoulder blades, yanking her flush against him. Chest mashes to chest, her nipples dragging hard points over his skin, his beard scraping her jaw as he nuzzles close. “

“Ride daddy, baby girl,” Smoke growls low in her ear, hips snapping up suddenly, thrust punching deep, balls slapping her ass with a meaty smack. Zariah gasps, spine arching but Smoke holds her locked, pumping from below relentlessly now. Each buck rolls his pelvis up hard, curved dick spearing her g-spot dead-on, grinding the base against her swollen clit with every bury.

Thighs like steel pistons flex under her, driving up fast then slow, varying the rhythm to make her chase it, his arms crushing her closer, one hand fisting her ass cheek to spread her wider, fingers teasing her hole while he rails her pussy. Sweat slicks their skin, her juices coat his shaft glossy, dripping down to soak his balls. 

“Feel that? Daddy fillin’ you full, protectin’ this pussy ‘cus it's mine. Phenomenal woman takin’ every inch.” His voice stays that dangerous calm, breath tickling her neck between grunts, lips sucking marks along her collarbone.

Zariah rocks with him, hips circling intentional, walls fluttering tight around his length. Her voice was soft, edged with that self-possession. 

 “Yes, daddy...feels so good.” No begging, just owning the ride, thighs quivering as tension builds. He ramps it harder, arms vise-tight, fucking up into her like a machine, wet slaps echoing loud, her ass bouncing on his thighs, pussy creaming thick down his dick. 

Zariah’s moans spill out breathy at first, soft exhales pitching higher with each deep punch,,starting as hushed mmh's from deep in her throat, lips parting wider to let ahh's drag long and throaty, vibrating against where her mouth presses open near his collarbone. Tension coils her core tighter, breaths coming measured but ragged now, moans layering into nngh-ahh-mmh, each one punched out precisely by his upward drives, voice never cracking loud but husky-thick with need, edges fraying just enough to feel raw.

“Yes, daddy,” Zariah breathes into his neck, her hips working bolder, starting to throw it down now, lifting high to slam her ass back onto his thighs with snaps and deep grinds, pussy gripping his girth on every drop. “You fuck me so good. Fuck this pussy. Fuck me with that big dick.” Her thighs flex hard, bucking wilder to meet his thrusts, wet hole sucking him deeper, creamy froth building at the base where her pussy lips stretch taut around his veined curve. “Fuck, I love this big dick.” Her voice stays in that self-possessed tone, edged needy, no shrieks or pleas because she was owning every word as she grinds down, clit dragging his pelvis, walls pulsing greedy. 

Smoke’s grip tightens, one forearm locked across her lower back to mash her tits flush to his chest, the other palm cupping her ass full, fingers digging into the balm-slick cheek to yank her harder onto each buck. His toned hips piston up relentless, thick thighs bulging under her weight, curved length spearing her depths over and over. Those heavy balls swinging up to tap her perineum with heavy thwacks. 

“Fuck yes, baby girl, throw that pussy on daddy's dick like you ownin’ it, good girl, get your dick,” Smoke rumbles low in her ear, thick and commanding. “Look at you ridin’ this big Mississippi meat, creamin’ all over my balls. Feel how deep I'm feedin’ this wet hole? Huh? Stretchin’ you wide, hittin’ that spot ain’t I’m?” Smoke thrusts up and holds, tapping Zariah on the rump as she shakes all over. “All that boss shit disappear when I give you dick. You safe wit’ me, act like it.” 

Smoke rolls his pelvis on the upthrusts, grinding the fat base against her clit, varying the pace from slow deep grinds to three fast snaps, making her chase the friction. Sweat beads on his chest, his beard rasping her jaw as he turns her face to capture her lips in a messy suck, tongue thrusting in time with his hips. “Keep talkin’ to me, bad girl. Tell daddy how this dick rearrangin’ that tight pussy. You takin’ it perfect.” Smoke’s thumb teases her back entrance light, pressing the puckered ring while he rails her pussy, arms crushing her immobile against him, and Zariah was owning it even as she bucks wild.

Her pace picks up frantic, hips slamming down to swallow him balls-deep every time, pussy squelching loud around his girth, juices dripping warm down his sack to soak the sheets. Her moans turn into throaty-soft pleas now.

“Ahh-nngh-yes!” blending with his grunts, body trembling. Smoke feels her tighten vise-like, knows she's close, but holds back his own load, hips snapping sharper to drag it out.

Zariah’s walls clamp down vise-tight around his thick length, that deep coil snapping loose as the orgasm rips through her, body seizing rigid in his iron hold, thighs locking hard against his hips, back arching sharp but pinned flush by his forearm across her back. Her pussy floods him in hot gushes, creamy release squirting thick around his pistoning shaft, soaking his heavy balls and dripping messy down to the sheets below. Zariah can’t buck anymore, stuck impaled balls-deep on his curved girth, every ridge dragging her fluttering walls as Smoke keeps snapping up relentless, his hips rolling precisely to grind that swollen spot inside her over and over, forcing wave after wave to crash harder.

Moans pour from her throat uncontrolled, delicate but fractured, starting as a long, drawn out ‘ahhhh’ vibrating deep in her chest, pitching into sharp ‘nngh-nngh’ gasps punched out by each thrust, lips trembling open against his neck where her face buries hot and slick with sweat. They layer ragged, breathy exhales fraying at the edges ‘mmh-ahh-mmh’ blending into a throaty hum that shakes her frame, her voice husky-thick and edged raw, never shrill but owning the depth of it, body quaking helpless as she creams all over his big dick.

Smoke doesn't let up, thick arms crushing her immobile against him, his biceps bulging under her sliding palms, one hand palming her ass cheek deep to spread her wider, fingers splayed to feel her hole pulse and leak around him. His pelvis snaps up in deep strokes, curved head battering that g-spot without mercy, balls wet against her perineum through her flood. That thick length gleamed with her juices and he just kept fucking her pussy straight through the peak. Smoke turns her face to lock eyes with him, his heavy-lidded gaze burning steady into hers, full lips parting on a low grunt.

“Yeah, cum on this dick, baby girl, keep cummin’ on this dick.” Smoke growls thick in her ear. “Pretty pussy grippin’ me so tight, squirtin’ all over daddy’s balls. Stuck right here takin’ every inch while I hit that spot. Keep cummin’ for me, baby, flood this big dick, bad girl. You own this nut, pussy milkin’ me deep.” He varies the drives—three short punches to her depths, then a slow grind circling her clit with his base, drawing out the spasms, her walls sucking greedily even as she trembles locked.

Zariah’s body jerks in aftershocks, pussy clenching around him, more cream bubbling out to coat his veined length shiny, her thighs quivering helpless. All Zariah can do is moan throaty into his collarbone, ‘ahh-nngh-yes’ spilling fractured as he rails her sensitive hole. He feels his own sack tighten heavy, but holds it back, hips powering through her mess to chase every drop from her. He’d continue to edge himself as long as he gives his bad bitch plenty of orgasms. 

Smoke eases out of her spasming pussy with a wet pop, Zariah’s cream clinging thick in strings to his veined shaft, glossy from tip to base where her squirt and cream mixed in slick trails down his heavy balls. Smoke wastes no time and flips her over rough but steady, large hands gripping her hips to yank her ass high at the bed's edge, face pressed flat into the rumpled sheets, knees spread wide under his direction. One palm presses firm between her shoulder blades, forcing that deep arch in her spine until her spine hollows out perfectly, ass cheeks parting naturally from the stretch, lower back dipping sharp.

Her pussy blooms open in that position, lips puffy and flushed dark from the pounding, inner folds glistening raw and swollen, stuck slightly agape from his girth, unable to close full after the stretch. Cream leaks steady from that stretched, creamy hole, thick white rivulets bubbling out slow to trail down her inner thighs, mixing with squirt sheen that soaks the sheets beneath her knees. Above it, her pretty asshole winks in the cool air, the tight ring pulsing faint with each aftershock clench from her pussy below, pink-brown rim flexing open a fraction before snapping shut, begging subtle under the exposure.

Smoke stands planted at the edge, bare feet firm on the floor, thick thighs framing her as he lines up, messy dick heavy in his fist, curved length slapping once against her leaking slit to smear her own juices back over her clit. Then, he sinks in, crown breaching her folds with a squelch, inch after girthy inch parting her walls until his pelvis meets her ass full, balls nestling heavy against her clit. Slow strokes start, pulling back to the tip so her pussy lips drag reluctant along his ridges, then driving deep again, his hips rolling weighted to bottom out each time, grinding her depths before he withdraws again. 

“Zari…you daddy’s little bratty girl, huh?” Smoke rumbles low, thick and edged mean, one hand sinking deep into her left ass cheek, fingers digging to spread her wider. He watched his curved dick emerge shiny-coated in fresh cream, veins pulsing as her hole grips and tugs. “You piss me off just so I can fuck you like this? Bend you over and drill this good pussy deep?” Smoke popped her ass. “See how sweet you get when you finally let go?” 

“Yes, daddy,” Zariah gasps throaty into the mattress, voice husky-fractured from the stretch, ass pushing back instinctively to meet his plunge, her walls fluttering around the slow invasion. “Yes, sir, I do—want this dick so bad.”

Smoke grunts his approval, other hand claiming a full handful of her right cheek—palms rough and veined, overflowing with soft flesh, kneading hard as he pulls her onto him deeper, pace still controlled but forceful, balls tapping her clit wet on each burial. Her leaky mess coated him fresh, pussy slurping audible around the drag. 

“That’s right. Act up so daddy give you some dick, stretch this bratty hole wide. Piss me off on purpose, gettin’ that arch just right for me too. You love bein’ face down, ass up, leakin’ all over my balls while I stroke it slow like this? Huh?”

“Mmm-yes sir,” Zariah moans soft-edged, body rocking forward with each deep seat, tits dragging along the sheets, back holding that arch under his palm's pressure, thighs quaking faint as the slow grind builds the pressure anew.

 “Love it daddy, love pissin’ you off for this—fuck me deep, please sir.”

Smoke’s grip tightens on her ass, spreading her cheeks farther to stare down at the sight, thick dick disappearing into her gripping pussy, lips hugging tight on the outstroke, cream frothing at the base where her hole milks him greedy. He picks up a fraction, strokes still deep but adding a twist at the end to nudge her g-spot, heavy balls swinging to smack her clit. Sweat beads his sculpted chest, biceps flexing as he holds her steady, heavy-lidded eyes tracing the messy union.

Each withdraw dragged her puffy lips outward, clinging to his veined length before he fed it back in full, pelvis slapping her ass cheeks with a meaty thud that echoed off the walls. His large hands overflow with her flesh, thumbs digging into the crease where thigh meets cheek to pry her wider, exposing the way her hole stretches taut around his girth, inner walls visible in flashes of pink and slick as cream bubbles fresh at the seam. Her asshole keeps up its subtle pulse above, ring contracting in time with her pussy's greedy squeezes, a faint sheen of her own leak trickling down to gloss it further.

Zariah twists her neck, cheek lifting off the damp sheets, eyes glassy and desperate locking onto his over her shoulder, those lips he loved so much parted on heavy breaths, kinky hair spilling wild across her back. 

“Daddy–yyy,” she pleads raw, voice cracking high as one of her hands snakes down between her spread thighs, thumb finding her swollen clit to rub frantic circles, chasing the building coil. “Please sir, harder—gimme more dick, I need it deep.” Her hips buck back insistent against his controlled pace, ass jiggling faint in his grip, pussy slurping louder on the next plunge as her walls clamp down fluttering.

“Not yet, brat,” he growls thick, voice rolling low, free hand sliding up her spine to press her chest flatter, keeping that arch locked while his hips roll weighted, grinding the curve of his dick against her front wall on every bury. “You gon’ beg pretty for daddy first. Tell me how bad this pussy want it—how you act up just to get stretched like this, leakin’ all over me, nasty girl.” He watches her fingers blur faster on her clit, the way her thighs start quaking harder. “You feel how hard you holdin’ onto me? That stress been sittin’ in your body all damn week. Use me then, go ‘head.” 

“Daddy, yes, I'm your bratty girl, piss you off for this dick every time,” Zariah whines, head turning full to hold his gaze, eyes pleading wide while her fingers grind her clit ruthlessly, body rocking violently now between his strokes and her own touch. Her eyes go cross eyed as she gushes fresh around him, walls rippling wild as the pressure crests, her back bowing deeper under his palm, ass pressing back to take him to the hilt. “Daddy, daddy—I'm squirting, oh fuck sir, it's comin’—don't stop, talk me through it please!”

Smoke leans forward slightly, chest brushing her back as one hand releases her cheek to tangle in her hair, yanking her head back gently but firm to keep those eyes on him, the other palm smacking her ass once sharp to jolt her higher. His strokes stay slow but deepen, twisting at the base to nudge her g-spot while her fingers strum. 

“Good girl, there you do, baby girl, let it go for daddy. Feel that pussy squeezin’ me tight? You squirtin’ all over this dick, you can't help it. Push back on it, rub that clit harder—gimme that mess. You like bein’ handled, huh?”

“Yes—”

“That’s my baby right there.” 

His voice stays gravel-rough, guiding her edge with words as her body seizes, thighs locking, toes curling into the mattress, a sharp cry ripping from her throat.

Her squirt hits explosive, clear jets pulsing out around his buried length to spray his pelvis and thighs, puddling hot on the sheets below as her pussy convulses violently, clenching him in waves that force more cream to froth at the base. She stares back at him wild-eyed, mouth slack on gasps, fingers slowing sloppy through the aftershocks while he holds steady inside her, hips grinding minimal to prolong the clench, watching her leak mix with the spray in rivulets down her legs.

 “Good girl, just like that—daddy got you, keep cummin’ good tonight. There you go, let all that pressure out. Ain’t nobody gon’ take care of you like me. Daddy got you. Been a mean bitch for so long ain’t nobody fuck you stupid til I cam around,” Smoke pops her on the left cheek. “Quit actin’ tough and come get this comfort. Say, yes sir.” 

“Y–yes, sir.” 

 “Now we gettin’ to the good part. I’ma move when you ready, but when I do, you gon’ feel every stroke. You with me? Say it.”

Zariah exhales, “I’m with you, daddy.” She grips the sheets. 

“Talk to me, Zari. Words. You ready or daddy gotta give you a break?” 

Zariah sucks in air and lets it out meditating slow. 

“I’m ready, sir.” 

Smoke's grip shifts lightning-quick from her hair to her shoulders, thick fingers clamping down over the knobs of bone there, palms splaying wide across her upper back to yank her torso up off the soaked sheets, forcing that spine into a brutal arch. Her head snaps upright, chin tucking toward her chest while her eyes glaze over fucked-out, pupils blown wide staring dead ahead at the headboard, mouth hanging slack on drooling whimpers, tongue lolling faint as spit beads at the corner. The new angle spears his dick straight down into her core, her ass cheeks spreading obscene on his pelvis with every hilt, pussy lips puffing out bloated and raw around the veined stretch, cream and squirt foaming thick at the root to splatter his heavy balls on the upstroke.

Smoke rears back tall behind her, knees digging wider into the mattress for leverage, broad shoulders rolling fluid as his dense core tightens, abs flexing solid under sweat-slick brown skin that gleams. Those rounded delts bunch heavy, veins popping along his forearms as he hauls her back onto him harder, his hips snapping forward with punishing force now, no more tease, full throttle wrecking. Each thrust lands weighted and final, his pelvis crashing her ass with claps that ripple flesh outward in waves, her cheeks clapping back against his thighs while her entire frame jolts forward violently, tits swinging beneath her to smack her ribs. The bed frame groans protest under the onslaught, pure power uncoiling from that grounded stance, thighs thick and corded pumping relentlessly.

Zariah’s body's a live wire in the pound, pussy walls seizing erratic around his plunging length, clenching desperate to hold him but fluttering loose on the withdraw, gushing fresh squirt in erratic sprays that arc down her quaking thighs to puddle wider on the sheets. Every bury shoves her forward an inch before his shoulder grip reels her back, her ass meat compressing flat against him then bouncing rebound, ripples traveling up her spine to make her curls lash wild. Her thighs attempt to lock rigid then spasm open, toes scrabbling, curling into the mattress as her belly sucks in hollow, ribs heaving under sweat-sheened skin, fucked-out stare fixed unblinking ahead, lashes fluttering half-mast while tears streak silent from the corners, jaw slack wider on guttural cries that pitch higher with each rip through her depths.

“That little mean streak disappear fast when I touch you right. You been wantin’ this all day. Nah, stay right there I wanna watch you take it—look at my girl—take this dick tearin’ you open,” he rasps, drawl thickening hot over the wet slaps, one hand sliding from shoulder to tangle back in her hair—yanking her head higher to deepen the arch while the other digs  into her shoulder, pinning her steady for the ram. His chest heaves, heavy breaths fanning her neck as he leans over partial, hips pistoning machine-like, balls swinging to batter her clit, smearing her mess back up her folds. 

“Feel daddy rearrangin’ your guts? You soaked the whole damn bed beggin’ for it—now wet this dick up  again while I pound you stupid. Arch that back deeper, push this ass on me—gimme that grip, baby. You gon’ relax for me or keep fightin’ me, baby?”

Zariah chokes out a keen, body betraying full surrender—hips grinding back frantic despite the overwhelm, pussy convulsing in fresh spasms that squeeze him vise-tight, walls undulating a massage along every vein as another squirt builds from the core. Her arms buckle, elbows to the sheets, fingers clawing fabric while her tits drag heavy across the damp cotton, nipples scraping raw. Her entire frame shudders electric with the force, ass lifting instinctively to meet his slams even as her vision blurs white-hot ahead. Sweat rivers down her cleavage, pooling in her navel before dripping off to mix with the flood below, thighs slick and trembling spread wide around his pistoning thighs.

Smoke grunts approval low, pace ratcheting inhuman, thrusts blurring to a frenzy that shakes her teeth, his solid midsection slapping her ass endless while those large hands anchor her, veins throbbing prominent down his forearms from the haul. Sweat beads thick on his brow, trickling into the heavy stubble framing his jaw that’s set hard, dark eyes locked on the destruction between her legs, watching her hole gape briefly on pulls before swallowing him balls-deep again. 

“FUCK, just like that—pussy talkin’ back to daddy, on every stroke.” His voice coaches steady through the chaos, drawl wrapping command around her haze as her body hurtles toward shatter again, the room thick with their slap-echo and her broken pleas. “Breathe through it. You can handle it. This what happen when you act like you don't need me tellin' you what to do. Next time you think about steppin’ out of line, you remember how this dick feel stretchin’ you open and makin’ you cum so hard you can't even talk.” 

Smoke yanks free with a wet pop that leaves her hole gaping, pink inner walls fluttering visible, clenching air desperate around nothing while thick strands of her cream stretch and snap between his retreating length and her wrecked folds. Frothy white coats his dick heavy from root to tip, balls glossy-slick swinging low and heavy beneath, veins pulsing prominent along his curved shaft.

 “Flip over, clean this dick spotless, baby,” Smoke orders, cutting sharp through her haze as one large hand strokes himself base-up lazy, smearing her mess while the other pats her ass firm to roll her.

Zariah twists compliant on trembling limbs, spine sinking into the drenched mattress as she sprawls supine, hair fanning wild across the pillow, belly quivering faint under the aftershocks. Her thighs splay wide, knees bending hooks toward her shoulders to bare everything, pussy on full display. Lips swollen fat and parted like it wanted to stay just like that from now on, flushed deep around the edges from the tear-up, inner pink glistening obscene under a sheen of her own squirt that drips lazy from her stretched entrance. Her clit hood peeled back partial, pearl throbbing exposed and raw, folds puffy-ridged from friction with cream beading fresh in the creases, entire slit pulsing like a heartbeat begging refill.

Smoke kneels up tall between her legs, knees bracketing her hips as he feeds his dick forward, tip bumping her lips expectant. Zariah cranes her neck, tongue darting out to lap broad from balls upward, tracing the heavy seam salty with her tang before sucking one orb full into her mouth, cheeks hollowing while her hand cups the other, rolling it. Up the shaft next, flat laps cleaning veins groove by groove, swirling the flared head to hollow her cheeks around it vacuum-tight, sucking her cream off audible with slurps that echo wet, spit mixing fresh to dribble down her chin as she moans low vibrations against him. His free hand dives between her thighs unhurried, palm cupping her mound full before thick fingers part those bloated lips wider, middle and ring sliding through the slick valley, parting her petals to expose that clenching core.

Feels like firework sparks when he rubs. Thick fingers coarse-knuckled dragging pressure perfect over her clit first, circling the hood lazy to make it twitch and swell fatter under the pad of his thumb joining in, then dipping lower to trace entrance rim where her walls suck greedy at the intrusion. That sweet pussy yields butter-soft inside, hot velvet clamping instant on the shallow probes, gushing syrupy response that coats his digits knuckle-deep. Each pass through her folds sends jolts electric up her spine. Zariah’s thighs jerked, spread while her hips buck faint to chase. Her outer lips drag sensitive along his palm skin, inner ridges fluttering as he massaged with his fingertips that scoop cream back up to smear her clit renewed, building that coil tight again with every glide.

Zariah polishes him thoroughly, tongue polishing the underside ridge before popping off clean with a gasp. Her hand wrapped around the base firm now to stroke with a upward twist, the skin gliding smooth over the cleaned glans while her gaze locks with his from below. Sultry heat simmers there, lids heavy-lidded fuck-drunk but sharp with desire, full lips curving wicked as teeth catch the bottom one, dragging slowly, holding his stare unblinking, challenge wrapped in surrender. Smoke groans deep, torso folding forward lean as his mouth crashes hers hungry—tongue thrusting his claim deep to tangle hers messy, tasting her own flavor shared while fingers keep working her pussy, two now plunging knuckle-deep to curl and hook against that front wall.

The kiss breaks on her whine, his beard rasping her chin, then his lips trail fire down her throat, nipping her collarbone before his palms scoop under her breasts heavy, thumbs flicking her chocolate nipples side-to-side to make them diamond-hard. Smoke kneads them, fingers sinking deep into the yielding flesh to shape and bounce them palm-to-palm, mouth latching hot over one peak to suck with a vacuum pull while his teeth graze faintly. His tongue lashes flat on her areolas before nibbling gently. Her strokes quicken on his dick, thumb swiping pre cum at his slit.

Smoke releases her nipple with a wet smack, lips glossy from the pull as his gaze lifts heavy to lock hers, dark eyes boring deep, one thumb still circling the slick peak lazy while the other hand squeezes her other titty, flesh spilling between fingers. 

“Good girl, Zariah,” Smoke rumbles faintly, voice dipping low like thunder. “Daddy proud of you…takin’ this dick so deep, stretchin’ that pussy perfect. Handlin’ yo’ punishment like a champ too, ass sore but you stayed right there, took every lick without runnin’.That's my baby.”

Zariah gasps sharp, hand tightening its stroke on his girthy dick, twisting from base to tip with precum and spit slicking the glide. Her eyes fluttered half-shut before snapping back to him.

 “Yes,” she breathes out needy, hips rolling faint into his stalled fingers still buried knuckle-deep in her folds.

Smoke chuckles low, free hand sliding up her thigh to anchor as he pulls his fingers free with a squelch, strings of her arousal snapping clear. 

“Mmm, yeah…and that's why daddy spoil you rotten. Fuck you good whenever you crave it, eat that sweet pussy till you flood my face. You mine to treat right.” His mouth brushes her earlobe feather-light, beard scraping her chin.  

“Yes, baby, you always know what I need,” Zariah moans velvety, arching her back to press her titties fuller into his palm, legs parting wider. “I love how you treat me. I'm your princess.” Her lips part on a whine, gaze sultry, locked.

Smoke nods slow approval, torso unfolding tall as he nudges her knees wider, settling heavy between her thighs, dick bobbing thick upright against her mound, tip nudging her clit. Zariah’s body's pliant now, limbs loose-jointed from the haze, so he hooks his elbows under her knees easy, folding her double with her thighs pinned to her chest, calves framing his shoulders tight. That pussy blooms upward obscenely, outer lips mashed flat from how spread open she is, inner folds splayed wide and quivering, entrance winking creamy-pink around the void, clit mashed prominent and pulsing under the weight of his dick resting heavy along her slit. Cream pools fresh in the crease, dripping backward to lube her puckered hole. 

Smoke notches his tip at her entrance, eyes never breaking hers, heavy-lidded stare pinning her soul-deep and thrusts in one long stroke, dick disappearing inch-by-thick-inch till his balls nestle snugly against her upturned ass, stretch burning visible in the way her walls bulge around all that girth. 

“Damn, princess, pussy grippin' daddy tight like I ain’t fucked you open,” Smoke praises, drawl stretching vowels lazy as his hips draw back on a slow drag, veins dragging friction along the inner ridges of her walls before snapping forward to bury fully again, pelvis slapping her ass with an audible wet sound. His Stroke pulls half-out next, her inner lips clinging reluctant to the retreat, then he plunges renewed, hitting that bottom with a grind that mashes her clit under his pubic bone. “You know who this belong to. Don't you? Say it for me.”

“Daddy’s pussy…daddy’s pussy.” Zariah whines. 

“I see you. See how you holdin'm’ on. How you lettin’ me own this. You doin’ so good for me, Zari. Real good, baby.” 

Zariah’s folded frame shudders, tits squished between her thighs as her walls clamp on the invasion, sparks exploding core-deep from the deep hits that kiss her cervix. Each thrust sends ripples through her puffy, pussy lips, cream frothing white at the seal where he bottoms out, her breaths punching out on the reentries while her eyes stay fused to his, wide and glassy with the lock, lips mouthing silent pleas. 

“All this dick, baby, take it all—daddy got you,” Smoke coos, pace building like a piston now, balls swinging tap-tap against her tailbone with every deep drive, his gaze unwavering intensely as he watches every twitch, every flutter, every jerk, every silent scream, every shake. 

Smoke's stare sharpen like a predator, jaw clenching, eyes narrowing to slits while his hands clamp on the backs of her thighs, thumbs digging meaty divots to pin her folded frame immobile. He snaps his hips downward piston-hard, big dick plummeting into her splayed pussy with a wet schlap that echoes off the walls, balls slapping her ass crack heavy before the recoil yanks him half-out only to hammer back in, burying full.

No words now, just breath hissing through his teeth, chest heaving as he tunnels, each drop stroke burying to the hilt, dick dragging brutal against her clamping walls that suck reluctantly at the retreat. His pace ratchets machine-steady, bedframe groaning under and the mattress dipping deep where his toes anchored. Sweat beads his temple and trails down, dripping onto her upturned tits that jiggle chaotic with every impact, nipples peaked tight from the frenzy.

Zariah's moans rip free raw, high-pitched keens fracturing into throaty wails that bounce off the ceiling, back arching futile against the fold as her thighs quake trapped in his hold. Her manicured acrylic nails rake fire-trails down his bulging biceps, carving pink welts into the sweat-slick skin that flexes corded under the gouge. Her calves locked rigid around his shoulders while her toes splay then curl tight, soles cramping from the building blaze. That battered pussy convulses wildly around his invading girth, cream gushing frothier at the seal with every plunge, inner muscles fluttering desperately to milk on those veins pulsing hot inside her. That curve hitting spots that make her dizzy. That tip kissing the back of her pussy, making her stomach clench. 

Tension coils her belly taut, breaths punching erratic as sparks ignite white-hot, walls seizing brutally on the next drop that kisses her spot, and she shatters. Squirt erupts forceful, clear jets arcing from her spasming slit to splatter his abs, soaking the shaft still lodged halfway as her pussy clamps and ejects, flooding the crease between her ass cheeks in hot rivulets that puddle onto the sheets, dampening it dark beneath her. Zariah’s body bucks helplessly in Smoke’s fold, eyes rolling on a scream that shreds hoarse while her nails dig crescent moons into his forearms.

Smoke grunts low once, chest rumbling the sound, before yanking free with an obscene squelch, dick springing upright glossy and throbbing, veins livid against the slick sheen of her release coating every inch from balls to tip. He unfolds her legs, thighs blooming wide as gravity settles her limp, then shoulders between them rough—head dipping low to seal his full lips hot over her quivering pussy. That thick tongue plunges flat and broad through her splayed folds, lapping the gush pooled in her entrance like a glutton, tongue flicking up to swirl her clit hood and those lips start sucking the pulsing nub vacuum-tight. Smoke smacked his lips wet, devouring every drop. His thick fingers splay her lips wider, exposing the pink inner clench still fluttering post-squirt, and he tongues deep inside to scoop the cream hollowing her out, beard scraping thighs raw as nose buries into her mound drag her scent full lungs.

Zariah stared down at him dumbfounded. She didn’t have the capacity to form words. He was eating her pussy up and even her twitching didn’t stop him from overstimulating her. 

Her vision blurred as aftershocks ripple through her, body slack against the soaked sheets, chest rising and falling shallow while her pussy throbs exposed, folds. Moans spill lazy from her throat, fracturing into his name drawn long and needy

“Smoke...Smoke…” her hips canting, rolling her slick pussy against his locked mouth, grinding her clit over his probing tongue that flicks non-stop like a propeller. Her thighs clamp his ears, heels digging into his back to pull him tighter into her drenched heat, cream smearing into his beard thick as she chases the friction through the daze, palming the top of his low cut ceasar with the deep waves.

Smoke’s growl vibrates low against her pussy before he lifts, his face slick-shined, eyes burning dark into hers, jaw set granite

“Gon’ nut so deep in this pussy, lock it down tight.” No pause, Smoke surges up fluid, knees bracketing her hips, one hand fisting the base of his dick slick-heavy to notch his tip bluntly at her fluttering hole, then he slams home in a single thrust, burying balls-deep with a meaty thwack that jolts her tits.

Silence is only broken by skin-slaps wet,  his powerful hips snapping, pulling that dick to drag slow, veins bulging against her pussy grip before dropping to grind deep with a roll of his hips. His pace builds, thighs flexing like steel under sweat rivers carving paths down his obliques, abs clenching ridge-defined with every plunge that stretches her walls around that curved dick invading her pussy. The headboard thumped the wall with dull thuds while his heavy balls swung to slap her ass cheeks spread wide, drawing creamy froth at the seal to drip down her crack.

Zariah’s moans pitch frantically while her hands claw his shoulders, gouging fresh welts into the flexing traps. Her Legs hook his waist and she locks her ankles to pull him deeper, pussy clenching, ridges pulsing hot inside, and her words tumbled desperate to coach him through. 

“This yo’ pussy, Smoke—cum in yo’ pussy, big daddy...fill this pussy up, give it all...show me who this pussy belong to. Tear it up, big daddy…stretch me out…ahhh–nnghhh–big ass dick…oh…big dick—yes, right there, right there, don’t stop, stroke it—yessss.” Her voice cracks husky, hips bucking in a counter-rhythm. 

Smoke’s groan shreds guttural, throat raw cords straining as his eyes bore into hers unblinking, heavy-lidded slits flaring wide with the lock. His muscles are cable-tight across his shoulders, biceps ballooning veins livid under her rake, traps bunching while his quads quake to brace the final drives. That big dick swells thicker mid-thrust, tip flaring to kiss her depths, and he erupts—balls drawing up tight, contracting, pulsing thick-hot ropes to flood her clenching channel and paint her walls white. His thrusts stutter shallow, grinding his thick seed deeper, damn near churning it to froth with her cream, that veiny beast jerking erratic against the flutter, that pussy milking every drop while an overflow seeps slow down her ass. His groan drags endless, chest heaving bellows against her neck, forehead dropping to hers sweat-slick as the last pulse fades, his body a heavy drape over her pinned frame. 

Smoke eases his thick, curved dick out of Zariah's soaked pussy inch by inch, letting her feel every ridge and stretch as he pulls free. The wet slide leaves her entrance fluttering, slick with their mixed fluids. He stays close, one broad hand resting on the curve of her hip while he watches her body settle.

“You took all that dick so good for me, baby. Real good. My pretty girl handled every inch. See? Ain’t gotta fight me all the time. C’mere, pretty girl.”

Smoke leans down and presses his lips to her forehead, then again just above her brow, then once more near her hairline. Three kisses that linger each time.

“Stay right there. Don’t move.”

Smoke stands, his heavy frame casting a shadow over her sprawled form. Zariah lies on her side like a goddess, long legs slightly parted, rich brown skin glowing with sweat and satisfaction, full lips curved in a lazy smile from being fucked so thoroughly. Her narrow waist and soft hips look even more inviting in the afterglow. Smoke steps away toward the bathroom first, turning on the jacuzzi tub so warm water starts filling with steady jets. The sound of bubbles fills the space. He then leaves the room entirely to head for the kitchen. 

On his way out. He glances back at her again. 

“Stay right there. I'll be back to get you in a minute.”

About ten minutes goes by and Zariah’s phone rings while she’s still sprawled on the bed, freshly fucked and glowing. She reaches for it lazily, answering with that professional tone she keeps for work. 

“Hey, it’s Z. Ellie…hey. Yeah, I’m here. What’s going on?”

Ellie, her publicist starts rattling off a packed schedule—more shoots, events, back-to-back bookings for the next month. Zariah listens, nodding along even though no one can see her, her voice calm and composed.

Smoke walks back into the room carrying the tray with her herbal tea and water. He sets it down, eyes locking on her. That look says everything without a word. He steps closer, takes the phone right out of her hand, and brings it to his ear.

“Ellie, right? Listen, she gon’ need a week off. Clear the next seven days—yes, a week. Y’all can make it happen.” His voice is final. He hangs up before the publicist can reply.

Zariah sits up a little, mouth opening to protest. “Smoke—”

He leans in and kisses her, slow and with tongue, cutting off whatever she was about to say. When he pulls back, his hand cups her jaw, thumb brushing her full lower lip.

“You gon’ need some rest and relaxation. I plan to fuck you and eat that pussy in every room of this place. You hear me?”

Zariah stares at him, that familiar tension flickering between them—her independence brushing up against his weight. Smoke doesn’t move. He just waits, eyes steady on hers. Slowly, she melts, no need to fight him when truthfully she could use a little break. And seven full days of back-to-back sex with her big, bad, man? Hell yeah. 

“Say it. Yes, daddy.”

Zariah exhales, shoulders softening the way they do when she chooses to meet him. Her voice comes out quiet but clear. 

“Yes, daddy.”

[tinasnowz]

theestallion: Thee Hot Girl Coach is on thee beach in BAYWATCH. Watch Baywatch premiering in January on FOX ☀️

[remanence-of-love]

[redcorset]

I love the moon!!!! she follows me everywhere to make sure I’m safe

[bdsmhentaiempire]

[kamiflix]

▶︎︎ High For This (starring . fratboy plug!choso)

synopsis . You're best friend's with both your favorite emo fratboy and the campus plug. So when you make an offhand comment while under the influence one night that no guy has ever made you cum, he takes it upon himself to challenge that. content . afab!reader, oral sex, dirty talk, spitting, squirting, he has a tongue piercing, pussy slapping, slightly-bimbo!reader, high sex, 69 position, cumming without realizing it, munch activities (yk how choso is), he’s a lil cocky, first time squirting, finger fucking, shotgun kiss, he talks you to filth, slight manhandling, throat fucking, head pushing, heavy praise, etc.

word count . 8.9k || author's note: this is a repost from kamitv so if it looks familiar, that's why. (the original was labeled mature, unfortunately) banner art from, "Hachisuka's Family Kotoribako"

“This guy is following me, pretend to be my boyfriend.”

“Wha—“

A pair of arms are wrapping around his neck before he has time to react properly and the rush of something sweet wafts up into his nose. A careful hand, decorated with ring after ring and adorned with black polish across the nails, comes to the right side of your waist to pull you in close.

Choso’s rich and definitely intoxicated brown eyes mull over the faces of the people around him, spotting Gojo and Geto—his friends—not too far away from him, and a bunch of other partygoers.

He doesn’t ask you any more questions—despite how you’re some random chick who came clinging onto him—as his eyes soon land on the guy who’d clearly been following you.

“Ew, Naoya…” He spits out, his face twisting up into a nasty scowl of pure disgust as the residential misogynist comes walking toward the two of you. “Don’t tell me he’s the asshole bothering you?” Choso whispers questioningly.

Your face is all buried into his neck and he could feel your arms tightening around him as you mumbled a gentle, “Mhm, he is.”

Great…

Because who in their right mind would want to deal with Naoya on a Saturday night? The guy gets kicked out of every frat house party that’s ever been held ‘cause of shit like this. All he does is harass and insult women, only to be eventually approached by one of the many frat brothers and get kicked out moments later.

Seems like this week it’s Choso’s turn to handle him. Which is just wonderful, really.

“Yo,” Choso calls out to the fully approached Naoya, whose mere presence makes him feel nauseated. “The fuck do you want with my girl?”

Now, you’ve never spoken to Choso before this but, the sound of him calling you his girl has your heart feeling all warm inside—even though he’s only said that because you’d asked him to play along. 

The scent of his cologne mixing with the thick musk of weed fills your nose as your face smushes up into his chest. You only know the man through the rumors you’ve heard and the few times you’ve seen him around these parties you keep attending. As you readjust your chin to look up at his expression, you think your arms unconsciously hold onto him a little tighter the moment you spot the vein peeking out against his jawline.

Everyone hates Naoya, that’s an irrefutable fact. But, something about how annoyed Choso was looking at him right now had you pulling your lower lip into your mouth.

Naoya lets off a scoff, his voice all loud and annoying, “This dumb bitch is your girl?” He asks. 

Every syllable that left his mouth is grating to all listening ears. Ugh, he was such a nuisance…

You merely glance back at the guy for a second and notice the look in his eyes that clearly says he’s not buying this shit. Choso—catching the same thing that you do—slips one of his hands downwards to the small of your back, not daring to go any lower just yet, and then eases you even closer.

“First off, watch your fuckin’ mouth,” He scoffs out, jaded eyes dragging up and down Naoya’s frame as he wonders how long it would take to knock him onto his ass. “Secondly, yeah, we’re together. What do you want?”

“That slut owes me money,” Naoya curses with tightly crossed arms, his gaze fixated entirely on you as if Choso weren’t even there. Though, he’s not really looking to get kicked out of this party just yet and he’s trying his best to avoid physical confrontation.

Cocking a brow, the brunet smoothes out a low huff that smells of the recently consumed marijuana he's inebriated under before redirecting his slightly glossed eyes down to you, “This isn’t what I think it is, is it, baby?”

You’re quickly distracted by the pet name that so easily rolled off of his tongue but without getting too wrapped up in it, you blink. “Huh?”

Choso slowly tilts his head to the side and cracks a knowing grin, “You’ve been seein’ other dealers? Don’t you know I’m the best on campus?”

Gulping, “Well, I–”

“S’okay,” He cuts off to ease the concern and worry trying to paint itself into your features. “We’ll get back to that in a sec’,” Then he gestures his head over to Naoya, gives your waist a little squeeze, and says, “Lemme handle this guy for you first.” 

Choso carefully moves you to the side and steps toward Naoya, who’s arguably a bit taller than him. He sizes him up again and bites back his scoff, replacing it with a tiresome sigh that he doesn’t even try to play off as anything else outside of what it is—an honest gesture of displeasure.

Voice lazy, “How much does she owe you, man?” Choso asks with one hand already fishing through the pocket of his pants for his wallet.

It really didn’t matter what number was thrown out to him, he was gonna fling whatever bit of cash he had on him toward Naoya to get him to fuck off. The only thing good about his presence right now was the fact that it brought you along, which is something Choso would like to return to as swiftly as possible.

“Tch,” Naoya chuffs, trying to glance behind him to get another scowling look at you before he says, “As if you have enough to—”

“Jus’ give me the number before I get you kicked out again,” Choso cuts off cleanly with a gaze that bores into the man’s skull.

One beat of silence passes by as Naoya contemplates a few things in his mind, wondering whether or not he really wants to test his luck with this. 

Ultimately, he ends up caving with a roll of his eyes, “Fine…” Then he gives him the number of which you owe and he’s literally smacked in the face with a random wad of cash as if he were some kinda’ cheap whore to be dealt with.

“There,” Choso spat, “Now don’t let me catch you trying to sell my girl your overpriced bullshit again, yeah?” Technically, he had no right to tell someone else not to sell drugs to you when he didn’t even know you.

But, one look at your face and he was certain he’d want you coming to him for weed and not anyone else after this. Especially when going to someone else landed you in this situation where you’re being followed around parties for payment—Choso would never do such a thing. He’d offer alternatives before even thinking to harass you like that.

Naoya was immediately enraged by how he’s being dismissed but it’s not like he could express that since there were one too many fraternity members in the area for him to do so without instantly getting escorted out. Thus, he settles for shuffling up the cash that’d fallen onto the floor—snatching each bill from beneath the feet of partygoers—and keeps his curses in a lowered whisper that’d never be heard under the blaring music.

Then, as if nothing ever happened, the surrounding people return to their dancing and Naoya seems to disappear somewhere into the crowd shortly after.

Which leaves you standing in place with slightly widened eyes whilst Choso turns around to look at you, brushing his hands off like he’d just dealt with some type of dirt or something.

“You alright?” He asks, taking a step closer toward you. The music is loud so it’s hard for you to really hear him, hence why he leans his ear down to your lips so he can gather your response properly.

You nod at first and then the words follow, “Uhm, yeah. I wasn’t expecting you to pay that off for me but, thank you, Choso.”

Shifting over to talk into your ear now, “Don’t sweat it, princess. But uh,” He clicks his tongue before darting it out to swipe over his lower, pierced lip. “I meant what I said before. You should’ve been dealin’ with me, not that idiot.”

“Oh,” You chirp.

Then he pulls away and the two of you are able to take one another in properly for the first time.

Under the changing LED lights—which are currently a mix of purple and red—both of your faces are dimly illuminated. Choso’s eyes openly scan over every detail of your expression, watching the cute curl in your lips as you slowly smile at him.

Oh, you’re gorgeous. 

What are the odds that a pretty girl like you literally comes running into his arms at a party like this? And then this dress you have on… Choso doesn’t exactly mean to glance down but when he does, he notices the way the fabric simply hugs your body, shaping you in all the right places and more.

He gulps, a sound that would’ve been rather loud if not for the vibrating base of music against the surrounding frat house walls. His eyes flick back up to your face and you’re shamelessly staring at his lips, then your gaze lifts to his nose, then to the right side of his face; right at his cheekbone for some reason? After, you’re looking at the tattoo running across the bridge of his nose and—

Ohhh, Choso was so distracted with checking you out that he almost forgot how many body modifications he has. He gets these kinda stares all the time but for a second he’d lost his entire train of thought. There’s the ring on the left side of his lower lip, his anti-brow piercing on the right half of his face, the small one on the left side of his nose with a very obvious tattoo running across the bridge, and then the multitude of piercings all over his ears.

Makes’ sense why you were staring now. You’ve got this clueless little look in your eyes and it’s kinda cute—

“How much do you charge?” You’re asking, ending his thoughts entirely. 

The word, “Free,” blurts out of him before he even realizes it and it’s not until he sees the way you start giggling that he realizes what he’d just said. Shaking his head, and backtracking, “Wait-, no. I don’t do anything for free, sorry. If anything,” Choso leans back and slides his hands down into his pockets, “You actually owe me now.”

Your eyes shoot wide open, “Owe you for what?!” you’re huffing as you wonder how the hell you keep finding yourself in someone’s debt like this.

“Hm, I dunno. Paying Naoya off for you?” He says with this sly grin stretching across his face. “But don’t worry, you jus’ owe me a promise.” 

You lift a skeptical brow at him and watch his pinky finger lift out for you to attach your own to in the most cliché way possible. Looking down at his finger, then back up into his eyes, “What kinda promise?”

“Gotta’ promise you’ll come to me for your weed instead of that moron, I’ve got better prices and better strains. None of that baby shit he was scammin’ you with, trust me.” Choso offers with his pinky still outstretched. You’re slow to intertwine your finger with his and he uses the connection to pull you closer, “I need to hear you say it too.”

You almost start stuttering with the way he’d jerked your body closer just to say that all lowly to you. “I promise I’ll come to you instead of Naoya from now on,” You respond with a dramatic emphasis on your words, fighting the blooming feeling in the pit of your stomach that spurs when he smiles at you as if he were proud or something.

And that’s roughly how the two of you met and became acquainted with one another. A couple minutes of fake-dating, one pinky promise, and a “complimentary” joint to start you off later and the two of you were practically best buds!

——

Well, not exactly best buds but you and him do get really close after that little party and encounter.

You stay true to the promise you’d made with him and only ever deal with him from then on. Choso was entirely honest with you that night so, everything he’d said turned out to be more than true. The shit you used to get from Naoya was nothing compared to what you were constantly high off of now, and it was cheaper.

Though, sometimes you did seduce your way into convincing Choso to give you an even lower discount….

One slightly revealing top was usually all it took for him to snag off a couple dollars for you—amongst other things. Like the cute ass smile you flash his way whenever you’re geeked out of your mind, yapping on and on about fuck knows what until the words leaving you no longer make sense. Yeah, Choso loves that. 

Oh, and the tasty gloss you typically coat your lips with. 

He’s not some kinda weirdo so he definitely hasn’t had any… lustful thoughts about said gloss but, he can’t exactly avoid getting a taste of it whenever the two of you are cycling a blunt back and forth and bits of it are left clinging to the wrap.

Outside of just smoking his weed and becoming his favorite customer, you also become someone he likes to keep by his side and talk to from time to time. The best discounts from him come after a good smoke sesh that he usually has to beg you to stick around for.

During those, the two of you end up talking each other’s ears off until it really comes time for you to go. 

Slowly but surely, the two of you are spotted together more often than either of you cared to be, and dating rumors shuffle about. They’re quickly shut down after a couple of parties where you’re spotted letting some other random guy kiss on you but, a certain two individuals try their best to keep it alive.

The individuals in question are none other than Choso’s closest frat brothers: Gojo and Geto. Those idiots were fully convinced that poor Choso never got any play until he met you, and now they’re both convinced he’s your loser boyfriend.

You’re pretty sure they only act like that because they’re jealous you’re probably getting free weed from the guy while they’re not.

Little do they know, their perception of your relationship with Choso couldn’t have been further from the truth. He was definitely getting play, he was just quiet about it since he’s the kinda guy you wouldn’t even realize slept around unless he wanted you to realize it. And as for you, you’re the one who ends up feeling like a loser after a while seeing as every guy you hook up fails to make you cum.

So much so that you were starting to believe there was actually something wrong with you. 

This all leads to now, as you enter Choso’s dorm room for the nth time this week to, hopefully, get high enough to distract you from that little orgasmic issue of yours.

As soon as you enter the dorm, your mood is killed immediately.

Sitting in the living room laughing loud as hell, is Gojo and Geto. Both of their heads turn in sync as you walk in, trying to quickly pocket the spare key Choso had made for you some time ago—having mentioned something about being too lazy to open the door for you all the time—and hoping that the two men will leave you-

“Look who’s here to see her man, awww,” Gojo coos before you can even try to ignore him.

Then Geto follows that up with a cunning, “Should’ warn you though, your boyfriend’s high as a kite in there.”

Trying not to let their annoying-ass taunting get to you, you settle for a sigh of, “When is he not?” before turning the corner and b-lining towards Choso’s room.

There are some more childish snickers and comments made about you from the two men but you pay no mind to it this time.

Pushing the desired door open, you’re immediately met with a thick heat of smoky air and a completely fogged room. The sound of a towel brushing against the floor as you push the door open makes you look down and you quickly realize he’d been hotboxing all by himself.

“Without me, seriously?” You hum with no malice behind your words as you slip past the door and shut it behind you, using your foot to nudge the towel back into place and then letting your eyes scan Choso’s slightly cluttered room.

The man is lying across his bed, dark hair hanging off its edge with the way he splayed out upside down and pinched a rather fat blunt in between the thick of his thumb and index. “You were takin’ too long,” Choso drawls.

And god, you could tell by the tone of his voice that he was barely even with you right now. He always had a pretty mellow way of speaking but when he was really high, his voice would drop an octave or two—words crawling off of his tongue all sleazily and heavy with each syllable.

“Y’know I’ll make it up to you though, here,” He adds on seconds later before you get the chance to settle into his room.

That strong earthy scent coated the entirety of his room as you walked over to the edge of his bed and looked down at him, noticing the jaded reds and pinks coating the typically white portion of his eyes as he batted them up at you. He’s got some low melodies playing from some corner and it only adds to the ambience of the space. Then, his arm extends and he’s offering you the cause of his fumed room.

Humming, “Thank you,” whilst plucking the joint out of his hands, your nails just barely graze his skin. Choso eyes the way you bring it up to your mouth and clasp it lightly in between your lips, leaning down to him and nodding your chin towards the lighter in his other hand. 

He catches your gesture and hoists it up to spark the blunt for you, hand cupping the air around as he filters through a couple stubborn flicks before a flame adorns the preroll’s end. Choso’s eyelids are weighted even as he watches you draw in a steady breath to capture the item’s contents into your system—quickly moving your hand to the joint afterwards to pry it from your lips and exhale slowly.

Another hum, this time one of approval, ghosts past your lips along with the fumes you’d just let escape you. “You look tired,” You comment while pulling away.

As you move around his room to plop your back down somewhere and get comfortable, your plug merely mumbles an easy, “M’not.” in response to you.

You shoot him over a look he doesn’t quite see, “If you fall asleep on me like you did last time, I’m leaving.”

“You better keep me awake then, no?” Choso chimes with one lazy smirk making the corner of his lips twitch.

Cocking a brow now, “And how am I supposed to do that?” you ask.

You then relax down into the chair in front of his desk of scattered papers and unfinished assignments, dragging it over to the side of his bed so that you’re close enough to pass the blunt back and forth. 

He lifts his head adequately to glance over at where you’re sitting and then offers you a shrug as his hand goes out, “I dunno, you tell me, baby.”

In the midst of taking another long hit and after passing it off to him, you meet his expectant gaze with a certain look, “Cho.”

“What?” He scoffs immediately. Then he’s sitting up and reaching over to pluck the blunt out of your hand and bring it to his lips, mumbling, “I call everyone that…”

He knew you didn’t care much for the pet name, even though he’s been calling you that ever since the two of you met. You told him about how much you hated the way it fueled the dating rumors and made it harder to get Gojo and Geto shut up. But, when your eyes roll in reaction to what he just said, he lets off a soft whir.

“Mh, you didn’t like that, huh?” Choso asks you in between several back-to-back hits that you’d normally scold him about. The brown of his eyes glide over your frame and then zero in steadily on the way your lips are moving as you speak.

“What?” You huff, “No, I don’t care if you call everyone baby.” A lie, it did bother something deep down inside of you. “I-If anything that’s a good thing.” You suggest.

To which he extends his hand out to you again, letting a single brow arch up, “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” You’re humming. Though, the sound definitely seems like you’re trying to convince yourself here…

The conversation dies out there for a moment longer than either of you care for and it doesn’t go unnoticed, even as the two of you cycle the blunt back and forth until it’s about halfway smoked through.

While you try to relax in the uncomfortable silence that’s stretching itself out in between the two of you, your mind is unfortunately drifting back to your sexual issue. The weed is supposed to keep your mind at bay and help you relax and yet, today it decided to do everything but that. Instead, your head is very much wracked with annoying flashbacks of the recent times in which you’ve been faking your orgasms for the second-rate men you’ve been sleeping with.

It’s not that these thoughts are completely unwelcome but, you’d rather not have them now while you’re busy smoking with Choso. And it really doesn’t help that he’s not being his usual talkative self right no–

“You’re quiet today,” Choso breaks the silence all of a sudden and the sound of his deepened voice is almost enough to make you flinch. It was like he’d read your mind or something just now… 

Spooky.

You’re slumped back against the chair and staring up at the thickly clouded ceiling, “Think so?”

Choso nods before he speaks. “Yeah, what’s up?” He asks, eyes still watching you as if he were studying your every little move amid the haze, “Talk to me, princess.”

While your stoned brain decides to focus on your lack of orgasms, his mind is unable to drift away from you and the way you look sitting in his bedroom right now. This isn’t too unusual for him since weed does tend to help his focus but, normally it’s not on you as much as it is today.

Perhaps that was because of your weird silence. You hadn't even complained about anything yet, which was enough to tell him that something was wrong.

Before you speak, the question rings around your head for a few seconds. Choso has a handful of pet names he uses on people and you know that but, you’re not quite sure if he says that last one to just anybody.

Hence why a delicate, “...Do you call everyone that too?” streams past the gloss of your lips.

“Nah,” Choso answers immediately as if he’d been watching the words walk right out of you. Then he tilts his head, “Just you.”

At that, you visibly tense up a little. You hated sessions like this with him. When the quiet got too loud that the mostly dormant emotions began to bloom around you. The warmth you feel flash over your face and cling at your heartstrings is definitely not from the weed but, you try to ignore it.

He’s been like this a couple times in the past. While he does get sleepy after a long smoke sesh, he also tends to get uncharacteristically direct and soft with you. You remember how one time he went on this looong rant about how pretty you were. But, before you could reply to any of it, he dozed off while mumbling about how he hoped to see you in his dreams that night.

Anytime you bring this up now, he tells you none of that ever happens and that he’d definitely remember doing so but, he doesn’t.

“You gettin’ shy on me now?” Choso asks abruptly, to which you lift your head and look at him. He’s sitting all the way up now, rolling a few more joints—as if he needs to—and then glancing to you again, “I said talk to me, what’s on your mind?”

Your gaze fixates on how careful his thumbs are with the joint’s edges, smoothing over them with the rolling, and only ever taking his eyes off of you to focus on what he’s doing before slipping his tongue out to lick it. 

A short, “Everything…” comes out of you in a manner so cliche that it makes him snort.

The unpierced side of his lips quirk up now that he’s half-smiling, “Pfft, okay… Well, what’s been going on with you lately? You’re bein’ dry as hell with me right now.” He points out.

You pout a bit and take your eyes away from him, “I dunno. I… It’s stupid.”

Choso rolls his eyes at you, “Don’t you start that shit,” He warns. You know he doesn’t like when you beat around the bush but how the hell are you supposed to tell him that you’re quiet today because you’re sexually frustrated? He’s your dealer, not-, “We’re friends, aren’t we?” He asks, interjecting your thoughts directly before shrugging, “Just talk, girl.”

You scoff a simple, “You’re so annoying…” that trails off into another long beat of silence, the only sound coming from his softly moving fingers and the way you take a few more hits of the preroll still in your hands, hoping to gain enough confidence to blurt it out. Then, after a few more carefully thought-out seconds, “...I think something’s wrong with me.” You manage.

“Seem’ perfect to me,” Choso blurts out, clearly not thinking twice about the words that just fell off his tongue.

“I-,” You pause to digest the sudden compliment, brushing it off with a chuckle, “I meant my body, Cho,” To which he mutters the same thing and you pretend not to hear it this time as you say, “I dunno if maybe it’s the stuff I’ve been smoking lately but….”

Some more stillness flies by and this time he seems to be fed up with it.

“But what? Don’t edge me here.” He demands.

The light buzz in your mind serves as a coaxing feeling that helps you finally breathe out, “I can’t cum.” 

You don’t get much of a reaction from him at first. If anything, he looks confused as he cocks an almost innocently puzzled brow, “Huh? Can’t come to what?”

“No, not-,” His literal interpretation of your words ends up making you giggle. Then you sigh, “I meant that I can’t orgasm, Choso.”

“What?” He questions dumbfoundedly.

“Please don’t make me repeat that…” You mumble.

“No, seriously, what?” Choso repeats, looking now as if you have three as he puts everything down and turns his head your direction, “You’re not gettin’ fucked right?”

Caught off completely guard, “Jesus. That's not even what I said—”

“But that’s what that means, right?” He interrupts, waiting for you to meet eyes with him again, “Unless you’re trying to tell me you seriously can’t make yourself cum.”

It’s slow but, you finally manage to look at him, “I can…”

Nodding, “Exactly so, that means you’re out there receiving mediocre shit instead of coming to me… again.”

If you weren’t caught off guard before, you damn sure are now. So much so that you cough in between your next hit, the smoke choking up in your lungs with a slight burn as your zen is thrown off. “H-Huh?” You unintentionally stammer.

Even with your eyes on one another now, he can tell you’re nervous just from talking about this. Smoking was not the cause of that flush in your cheeks and he knows it. Something else definitely had you hot right now.

Choso’s eyes flick up and down your seated frame long enough to see the way your thighs shift against the seat. Instantly, his tone gets sly, “What, you think I’m only good for weed?”

Your lashes bat, “Well, n-no, but…”

“C’mere,” He cuts off, having lifted a hand to beckon you over with two generously ringed fingers.

Your scoff is instant, “Choso, respectfully, I don’t think-”

“M’not askin’ you to think,” He smiles, fingers still waving, “I’m askin’ you to come over here.”

It takes you a bit to digest his words before your body gets to moving and when you haul yourself off the chair, you move to plop down on his bed. Sitting right next to him now, Choso leans over a little and his arm slides somewhere behind you. His hand ends up just a few inches away from your ass, his fingers splaying out against his comforter whilst his head weighs to the side.

His body is hot next to yours. So hot you could practically feel the heat oozing off his frame. And the peering look in his eyes wasn’t making it any better either…

“How many times have I told you I’m here for whatever you need, huh?” Choso whispers, the lowness of his voice causing your hips to twitch a little.

He’s all focused on you again, even more so now than he had been earlier, and it was almost as though you could feel him everywhere without him even touching you yet. Perhaps it was the cannabis in the air and the way it swirled throughout your system but, all your sensations felt heightened now.

Pulling your head away from him to gain some distance back, “Plenty of times, but..” Your shoulders slump a little, “This is different, Choso.”

His gaze falls down your body and something husky and wanting sneaks its way into his words now, “How? You think I can’t make you cum?”

God, every time he opened his mouth you felt as though you were losing your mind. And the audacity he had to be so bold with his words on top of that was making it perpetually worse by the minute.

“N-No,” You huff as your head turns back to him and you’re heard gulping thickly at his focus on your mouth. “I’m not saying that but…” You pull your lower lip in between your teeth for a moment to chew while you think. Then, you sigh again, “Well, maybe I am saying that… I just think–”

“I told you to stop doin’ that,” Choso murmurs, arm snaking around your body so that his hand could land on your hip. He gives you a little pull and almost sounds needy as he utters a husky, “C’mere.”

“I’m right–”

“Closer, baby.” Choso cuts off, finally tugging you closer so that the side of your thigh brushes up against his. He then takes his other hand and brings it up to your jaw, drawing your face way too close to his. You could smell the viscous scent of weed on his tongue as he spoke given the lack of distance between you both, his eyes never straying away from the soft, soft curve of your lips, “Now, jus’ tell me if you want me to make you cum or not and I got you.”

Your top set of lashes meets your lower ones in slow-motioned blinks as breathing properly grows increasingly difficult, “It’s not that simple…”

The man’s grasp on your chin grows a little tighter, “It really is.”

You roll your eyes again “Literally no guy has made me-”

“Do I seem like every other guy you’ve been with?” Choso scoffs, as if he were actually ticked off now. Then he forces your head some more up so that your gaze is meeting his and, fuck. The look in his eyes did something. Looking at you all commanding and desiring like you were the only thing that ever mattered in his life, “Do you want my help or not?” he whispers one last time.

Of course you wanted his help, even though you had your doubts about receiving it. You weren’t sure what would be so different with him. 

Even so, you’re slow to give him a nod of your head and grumble a cute, “Yeah,” that has him swallowing down a groan.

Then he’s weighing forward and you barely get to fully shut your eyes before his lips smooth over yours. Catching your hesitance, you feel his thumb slip upwards as he talks into your mouth, “Don’t be shy, open up f’me, baby.”

At the sound of that, your lips get to parting over his and his tongue immediately slides right in. Both of your heads tilt off in opposite directions and he’s the first to let out a string of sounds. It starts out with a grunt when you pull back half a centimeter just to slip down and clasp his lower lip between your teeth, nibbling softly.

When you give it an adorable tug and then press forward into the kiss, that’s when he starts groaning. 

Choso’s got no idea how any guy could’ve gotten their hands on all this and then decided not to make sure you’re squirting by the end of the night. He supposes he can thank all those guys now though, seeing as you’re swiftly moving forward with this kiss.

Yeah, it starts out slow and a little sloppy but while your tongues are mingling with one another’s and sharing the prominent taste of marijuana, you’re getting eager for more and throwing a leg over him.

You’re properly sitting in his lap before he realizes it. And the only reason Choso acknowledges it at all is because he feels a rush of heat spark from in between his legs as something rubs over the previously dormant tent in his sweats. He can’t even pull away from your mouth to say anything because he’s far too distracted by the gorgeous moan you sink past his lips.

Oh, he’s lost it.

Choso’s hands grab at your waist suddenly and then squeeze hard enough for you to acknowledge his touch before he smoothes downwards to your hips and pushes your body lower so that you’re flush with him. “Mmph,” bursts past his parted lips in the middle of his suckling your tongue deeper into his mouth. 

The man is all but swallowing up the sweetness against your mouth, quickly growing addicted to it. Weed could never compare to the taste—a fact of which he’s sure about now. As his tongue soon goes diving down the center of yours, you feel the surprising bud of a snake eye piercing decorating its tip.

That’s when one of your hands moves in between your bodies and sneaks under his shirt as you gasp out his name and then pull away.

His lips chase yours as you draw distance and then he hauls your entire body impossibly closer to his, your chest smushed up against him now. In doing so, you roll your hips forward against his naturally and hear the way his breath hitches. Then you feel something.

Poking-, no, jumping up against your clothed cunt in between the many, many layers between the two of you is the thickness of his bulge. And with it comes another wave of sloppy kisses.

Choso’s hands are everywhere against you now, literally. 

Something in you seems to snap at the feeling of his cock growing under you and right after you let yourself gasp at the sheer size of it one more time, the hands you had on his chest manage to recline him back against his bed.

Choso hits the mattress with a soft huff of previously lost air and his brows twist up to flash something needy at you. “Fuck,” Scratches out of his throat whilst he stares at the way you look on top of him.

So pretty…

There’s a single string of shared saliva dribbling out of the corner of your mouth and he almost moans as you start leaning down to him again, his arms moving so that he could wrap them around you. Then your lips meet again and this time it isn’t even sloppy, just hungry.

The sound is loud, louder than any kiss you’ve had lately, and noisy enough to earn a couple of smiles from him in between all the kissing. Breathing into your mouth, “You shouldn’t have told me that shit,” Choso sears as one of his hands comes up to the back of your head, the other at your neck now. “Can’t even calm myself down…”

Followed by his not-so-gentle admission is another heavy pulse from his fully erect cock. 

You manage to pluck yourself away from his mouth long enough to say, “I don’t see why,” Then you snort cockily, “S’not like you’ve changed my track record.”

“Yet,” Choso quickly corrects. And before you can add another snarky comment in response, “But that’s alright, I’m about to.” He claims, tipping his head back to relax as his hands fall away from your body completely, “Come get up here.”

You blink, “Huh? Up…” Searching his frame as if you weren’t already on top of him, your brows tweeze together, “...where?”

Even with the poking of his dick, he takes this moment to gather himself and reach over to swipe up the blunt you were last smoking. Then he shuffles for a lighter and sparks it up again, taking a hit and returning his attention to you as if the little intermission didn’t have you on edge.

You had no idea what he meant by ‘get up here’ when you were literally sitting in his lap already. Surely he didn’t mean–

“On my face,” Choso clarifies, a sexy cloud of fumes ghosting out of his mouth along with his words.

At first, you just stared at him and watched him smoke. Your body was thrumming with need in multiple areas but you just couldn’t fathom sitting on his face. Surely, that’d be pretty unsafe to do while both of you are heavily intoxicated. Hell, you can barely see around his bedroom, how can he possibly expect you to sit on his face…

Well, a few minutes later and you’re halfway there.

Not quite sitting—after a million and one concerns of being scared to suffocate him—you’re now hovering over Choso’s face. You refused to meet eyes with him so you’re turned the opposite direction and your hands are helping your body remain hoisted up as they rest on the bed, caging the lower half of his body—just as your legs were doing to his head right now.

Your pants have been snatched off and you’re completely exposed to the greed of his eyes. He’s hardly touched you ever since you caved and brought your bare pussy up over his face. You’ve been left to stare at the throbbing bulge that rests a few inches away from your face and you feel awkward.

Y’know, until there’s a warm blow of intoxicated air that swirls up against your dripping cunt. Followed by which is the sound of Choso lapping over his lips at the sight, scoffing after. One thumb finally draws up to meet the left lip of your pussy as he slips it over and reveals more of your slicked glory. Your cunt clenches embarrassingly at his first touch and you silently hope he doesn’t notice how you drip when he starts talking.

“Shiit,” Choso begins, voice heavy in baritone now—no longer from the weed but purely from his own arousal, “You’re tellin’ me nobody’s made this pretty girl cum?” He asks, “Who the fuck have you been goin’ to, huh?”

You glance back at him over your shoulder, hardly able to see his face with the way you’re hovering, “Cho, I—“

“Shhh, I’ll take care of ya’. Don’t sweat it.” He claims, to which you roll your eyes. He always fuckin’ says that… “Now sit.”

Another gulp is heard from you, “Choso, I already told you. I don’t wanna crush—“

Rolling those blown-out brown eyes of his, Choso’s other hand meets your hip with a mean grip before he tugs your body down and your cunt promptly meets his greedy face. “So stubborn.”

The gasp you let out at the initial contact of his lips against your wetness makes something inside you crave the ability to disappear. You were hot before but now you’re soaking and heated all over.

Your nerves felt like they were on fire and your hips practically melted downwards when you felt Choso’s tongue slither out to get the first taste of you. “Hnngh-, fuck…” You breathe, fingers curling into the sheets to hold onto.

You’ve gotten head from guys plenty of times but this was so much different. And he only just started!

You definitely had your high to blame for the way his tongue feels glissading upwards in between your lathering folds—the sensation so strong and pleasurable you swore for a second he had two tongues or something. Of course, that’s just the weed talking but shit…

“S’sweet…” Choso mumbles into your cunt, pulling away just to spit and then using the fat of his thumb to rub the slick of it into you, “Poor baby, nobody could make you cum, huh?” He says.

You start to open your mouth—thinking he was talking to you—but when his thumb presses past that rather welcoming ring of resistance and earns one gorgeous squelch, you quickly realize he’s not talking to you at all.

“Yeahh?” He purrs, one eager smile plastering itself out across his face, “You needed someone to come talk to you directly?” 

Choso toys with your insides using only his thumb for a while, grinning wickedly the whole way through as he watches the way your pussy splurts out such saccharine sounds of slick ‘n filth. It’s not until your soakage is dripping down his hand that he finds himself grunting and then dragging his thumb out of you tenderly.

Sticking it into his mouth just to suck your taste off for a second, you hear the way he moans around his own digit. Then, before you have time to realize just how wet you really are, there are two dumbly thick fingers slipping past the plush of your folds, wiggling in deep and coaxing a pitched sound out of your throat.

“Y’like that, huh?” Choso mutters from beneath you, jaw already coated with the sweet traces of your taste, “You’re bein’ so loud, this must feel really good…” He comments softly. Then his fingers abruptly slip out of you and swat over to your clit to land a couple of wet smacks against, earning nothing more than a whine from you. To which he chuckles and tilts his head at the little quiver your cunt does in reaction, “Hah, s’okay, you don’t have to answer… she’s doin’ plenty of talkin’ for you.”

Those little smacks of his quickly grow repetitive and as he does so, he lets his jaw fall open and hangs his tongue out to capture the syrupy drip that oozes off of your walls. 

When he starts working you over his fingers again, you don’t even realize the upper half of your body has slumped over until you feel something pressing up against your cheek. Your eyes had fluttered shut and everything, having grown so lost in the pleasure of his fingers that you didn’t even realize what you’d laid yourself on.

Lifting your head, you look over and stare at the outline of his cock again. There’s a slight patch of wetness where his plump tip is resting and you’re moving before you’re thinking.

“Aw-, woahh..” Choso gasps from behind you, to which your senses come back to you a bit whilst you push his sweatpants down. “What uh-,” His voice almost cracks for a second there but he swallows the hindrance in his voice down. Then he’s hissing when your hand slips under his boxers and wraps around his curving shaft, “Fuck.. what’re you doin’?”

The curve in your back deepens and the fingers he’s got inside you now get swallowed up even tighter the second his cock springs out. With wide eyes and a drooling mouth, you don’t even hesitate to take his length into your hand and then let your breath hit it as you whisper, “Returning the favor, Cho…”

He scoffs, “You don’t have to-, holy shit…” The mere press of your warm lips against his leaky cockhead is enough to make him whine. And as if encouraged, you quickly spread your mouth over him and ease it down around his dick, letting your tongue lap at the sides upon your descent. “Oh god, your throat feels s-so fuckin’ good…. A-All this and people had the nerve to leave you unsatisfied? Tch.”

Meeting you halfway, Choso dives back into your cunt with the entirety of his mouth. You feel the ball of his tongue piercing tickle your walls as he stretches you out against the glutinous pink muscle—your moaning around his cock sending filthy vibrations all throughout his body.

His hips thrust up instinctively and his lips pop off of you with a sharp breath, “Fuck, princess… Do that again, yeah?”

Your cheeks hollow out as your jaw widens and you force yourself down further until his fat tip is bumping up against the back of your throat, earning a nasty gag from you. You try to lift yourself to breathe but you’re met with a sudden pressure at the back of your head as he swiftly pushes you back down.

“Hold it f’me,” Choso groans, “Need you t’feel me back there,” He adds shortly after. Then, keeping your head still, “There ya’ go, gooood girl…” He praises as his hips start bucking up again until your eyes are coated with tears.

Truth be told, Choso isn’t normally this rough with anyone he fucks. But the high buzzing throughout his brain has him acting different. He can't get over the way your lips feel wrapped around his cock like a warm hug. And the way he slides all the way down your throat perfectly? Oh, you’re lucky he hasn’t cum inside your mouth already.

The dark hairs he has decorating the area around the base of his heavy length tickle your chin with how wide your lips are parted around him. You could feel him leaving soggy kisses against your uvula and all it did was make you soak above his face.

When you finally give him another moan as your face presses snuggly against his skin—the veins trailing his dick pulsing with little heartbeats against your tongue—he lets your head go. You fly up a bit and start coughing softly, glancing back at him with a pout as you wipe your mouth off, just to see that he’s already moving on to do something else as if he didn’t just choke you out on his dick less than two seconds ago.

Choso’s got a joint perched between his lips as he takes a loooong drag from it and when he plucks it away from his mouth, he takes his free hand and moves it to your hip. You don’t even realize what’s happened until something heated is slapping up against your slobbering cunt. The sensation makes you jump and then Choso—ever the freak—is leaning up to shotgun a kiss directly into the puffy folds of your cunt.

“Ch-Choso,” You choke, “What the f-fuuck…”

Then your hips are lifting as if to escape him and something throaty and annoyed reverberates its way out of his throat before you feel his painted fingernails dig into your skin and force you back down, his head shaking up into your pussy whilst his tongue lathers into the deepest depths of your slutty cavern.

Then you hear the wet, gushing smacks that his mouth against your cunt begins to make, feeling a certain sensation bloom in the pit of your stomach. Your legs are twitching around his head and you’re whining. “Choso, w-wait… please, I-I feel weird…”

Instead of acknowledging your words, he just groans something filthy and hot against you, “Such a sloppy pussy, droolin’ allll over me like this…” He points out. You’re not sure if it’s possible but he’s clearly high off of you and not just the weed. 

You try rolling your hips back to see if that would capture his attention but all that does is make his cock drip with creamy slathers of white from the slit. As you notice that, you try to lean down and suck on his neglected tip, hoping that would get his mouth to go easy on you for just a second.

Unfortunately for you, that did the exact opposite. 

Instead, Choso’s pulling back to spit a gloopy wad of spit onto your cunt and then scoffing, “You should tell me-, hah.. who the assholes are,” He mutters, beyond pussy drunk, “The ones that couldn’t make you cum,” His tongue flicks around as if he were spreading his own saliva via spelling something out, “Then let me send ‘em the sexy lil’ mess m’about to make of you….”

Prying away from his cock for a second, “That’d be so-, mmgh! Right there, Choso…”

“Yeah? Right here? This is the spot they couldn’t find? How pathetic,” He’s searing with his tongue, drawing his name into your gluey walls all cursive-like, making your eyes roll back. “You’re so easy to please,” He teases, smiling after, “Unless, of course… fuck, that’s only ‘cause of me?” Choso asks, spitting again just to have the entire space in between your legs a slopped, wet mess, “S’that what it is? You like the way I treat this pussy?”

“Yesss, Cho,” You whine ever so thankfully.

And of course, he leans back up to french-kiss your pussy lips in response. You’re so high ‘n horny that you don’t even realize the number of times you’d let your shimmery gloss of release coat the insides of his mouth by now. 

Not until he’s felt smiling into you, “Mgh.. again? How many times is that now? Eight?” The number makes you inhale swiftly in surprise, your hand squeezing the base of his cock a bit tighter as you move your head to the side to moan deliciously. “Gimme one more ‘n I’ll give you a break…” He coos, pierced tongue massaging your sensitive folds now. 

At that, something prominent builds up within you. “Choso, mmnh! I-I think I’m… ohgod… m’gonna cum,” You pant, lazily jerking him off with what little strength you have in your hand.

He snickers, “Silly girl, you already did that. I think what’s about to happen now is uh…” His voice trails for a moment so that he could plug your hole in with his fingers and curl them against your g-spot, “You’re about to squirt f’me…” Choso tells you. 

And squirt for him you do.

You never thought you could feel pleasure so good that you couldn’t even tell you’d finished until you were at the point of squirting. It’s a weird sensation that makes you moan his name loud enough for his fraternity brothers to hear outside of his room. 

Your entire body convulses and your mind just blanks out. You think his fingers are somewhere around your clit and his tongue is back in between your slippery walls but you couldn’t tell at this point—all you knew was that you were making a mess all over his face.

And through it, he was down there praising you. “That’s it, thaaaat’s it, princess..” Letting his tongue dangle out again to slur, “Right on my fuckin’ face, I want everyyy drop.”

It’s embarrassing for you—y’know, squirting all over your plug’s face just from his stupidly skillful tongue and fingers. You wanted to hate every second of it, hate how nasty you felt by the time your orgasmic high began to diminish but, fuck there wasn't a single thought left in your brain.

You told the man no guy was making you cum and he did so consecutively without even putting his cock inside you. Not only that, he was faded the entire time!

Arguably, you were too so that’s likely why you were so sensitive to his mouth to begin with but… still.

You feel like you black out after your orgasm but, it’s only for a few seconds. Eventually, your ears catch the loud roar of his groans and bat your tear-coated eyelashes open to see his cock has spilt globs of cum out around your hand. Your grasp on him instantly releases and you scoff softly at the sticky mess.

Both of your orgasms leave your bodies motionless for a long while—your frame slumped over against his—and nothing but the sound of filthy pants echo throughout his fogged room.

Choso’s the first to eventually break the silence with a breathy, “And uh, next time come to me when you wanna get off…” He murmurs, feeling your limp body weight shift against him a little, “…not just for weed, okay?”

“Uhuh..” You babble tiredly.

“Good,” He sighs. “'Cause I charge pretty cheap for these sex sessions.”

Freezing, “What?”

Choso chuckles, a weary smile painted across his slicked face, “I told you I don’t do anything for free, didn’t I?”

perm choso tags (1/2):

@yulissacastillo11 @xxvendettaxx @blcknebula @imyourightnow @cupidstrace @iiakithegoat @hellodeeyanna @navyllll @etsuniiru @not-a-glad-gladiator

@hopelissromantiq @2kool4skoolll @o4tmilf @daxphoriax @gorouenjoyer @avatar4eva @broimherebcsimboredok @indiaas-priv @blubearxy @wonderfullymickey

@iaintblockinnobody @kitassecretgf @iam-souless @nanamitiddiechomper @ohreallyfriend @withersworld @suguphile @megottheswaskikacooooke @kvsqkiii @yourlocalcatscammer

@prettysexcgorgeous @themicthatyeosangwith @autistmicfool @v33326 @lucy-lulu @sukubusss @sweetieelilii @lisabelhyhn @serenadesvt @bloxdhawks

@satoruslxt @sinovi @riameriash @arminseas2 @palanggaaa @makingtimemine @theodoresvalentine @miss-f0rtun3 @jinjen @shamelessdancer

[tonycries]

Beast - R.S.

Synopsis. Four arms. Four eyes. Two mouths. Ryomen Sukuna has everything he needs and more: power, riches, enough concubines that he’s grown bored of such frivolities. That is, until you’re entering his royal estate as the newest addition—and he just didn’t expect such a puny little human to become… His favorite.

Pairing. Ryomen Sukuna x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!concubine!reader, Heian era!Sukuna, true form!Sukuna, DP, Sukuna’s second mouth, the Sukuna Estate, other concubines, schemes, sIight pIot, mostly just true form Kuna mmmmpfg, he’s the master, he’s BIG (like really big), four arms, two mouths, he’s FÉRAL, mouth-ríding, sort of face-sítting, p sIapping, oraI (f + brief m), DÚMBlFICATION, making it fit, tight squeezes, stretching, tummy buIges, cervíx smooches, sIight degradation, bréeding, mentions of heirs, MANHANDLlNG, tension, full nélsons, overstímulation, spítting, foIding, stopping you from running, making you CRY, rough s, he’s MEAN, creampíes, cúmpIay, muIti-tasking (iykyk), implied marathon, slight proposals, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 10.5k

A/N. Blame that split-second frame from the last episode not me…

“Of the eighty-two chambers, you are free to enter most.” Uraume’s words were smooth, steady, and not a second longer than necessary; just as their steps were down these winding hallways. 

You’re hastening your strides to keep up.

“You may roam in the gardens and libraries. The main kitchen has its doors always open, the Eastern one is for specialty desserts and guests, and the Western one is for poisons…and guests.” They continue, “The dojo is forbidden to anyone but the master, and you are expected in the Buddha room every evening.”

They suddenly halt.

Boredly, “You do plan to stay alive, I believe?”

And you could barely breathe, “I-I believe so?”

You’re realizing that you’ve stopped at the end of a massive bridge connecting to a quieter wing of the estate—intricately carved, and accompanied by a slow river drifting underneath. Uraume’s hand falls to the edge of the lattice doors, “Good. Here we have the concubine quarters-” Looking at you seriously, “-where you shall reside.”

A shiver runs down your spine.

Truth be told, you hadn’t expected to get this far.

According to what the stories and legends claimed, a mere mortal like you would have been sniffed out—would have been sought after, would have your flesh torn to shreds the very second you stepped inside the Sukuna Estate. If not by the monster that inhabited it, then the Estate itself.

Some whispered that it was inhabited by cursed spirits - amongst something far, far worse - that both guarded and imprisoned. Whilst others whispered that the house itself was a cursed spirit in the form of this sprawling aristocratic estate—as vast as a palace. Even more whispered that whomever entered the house gained a taste for blood, and even most claimed that a house’s auspiciousness reflected that of its master’s. 

For who else would inhabit such a place but Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses himself?

If the public whispered about the estate, they simply yelled about the sorcerer that inhabited it. Blood-curdling screams. 

There was no avoiding the rumors that swirled around the special-grade; those who were unfortunate enough to cross his path painted a picture of a beast more than eight feet tall, with glowing blood-red eyes and horns that tore open the skies. Storms he could silence with a single wave of his hand. His powers were what made legends—never before had there been seen a sorcerer as strong as he, and it was likely that there never shall be again. Though that was not for a lack of trying, or talent, or assassinations. 

Despite remaining living, he was depicted in temples and murals of hell. Four arms. Four eyes. Two mouths and countless tattoos. So imbued in his sorcery that it metamorphosed his physical body itself - Ryomen Sukuna was said to be something more than human, but something less than a person. 

Look at him wrong and you might find yourself without sight. Without life. 

Thus, not many dared to lay their eyes upon him—but they didn’t have to. He left a pathway of destruction and blood-soaked footprints wherever he went. 

A kill count higher than several populations.

Wherever he went, it loomed the dark shadow of a hand across the land. Currently that hand was grasped tight around the city of Heian-kyō: the home of Ryomen Sukuna, it sat at the very center of the capital. Dubbed aptly by the citizens to be The Estate of the Dead. For no human that wandered inside, will ever wander out.

And yet, that’s exactly the chance you’d taken today.

You’d had enough.

You’d waltzed right up to those grand doors this evening, dwarfing everything and anything around it, and knocked. Dark mahogany panels. Gilded handles. Unlike most noble homes, the Sukuna Estate didn’t need to have guards stationed outside it—for who was mad enough to bother the King of Curses?

You, it seems.

And so the busy road froze around you; the residents paused mid-gossip, the merchants stopped haggling their prices, the carts and wheels creaked to a halt—the world itself held its breath as the doors to the estate had opened.

And a short, slender person stepped outside.

They were dressed in a dark monk’s robe draped over a white kimono, equally white hair dazzling - almost ethereally odd - underneath the sunlight. They closed the door behind themself, and looked at you intensely. “State your purpose.”

You struggled to remember why you were here in the first place, “I-It is my greatest honor to-”

“Hasten.”

“I only wished to-”

“Hasten-”

“A position.”

You weren’t sure who was more bewildered at the words that blurted out of you—you or the citizens around you. There were soft gasps that echoed into the air, peering even closer at the strange interaction. However, the attendant merely looked at you uncertainly, and you hurried to explain yourself. “I come seeking employment, my lord of the house.”

“I am but a mere servant.” They replied, raising one hand. “And we seek help no longer.”

As they attempted to turn back and go inside, you’re rushing. “Please-”

Brows furrowed, “I said we seek help no-”

“But I swear that I shall be the most loyal servant to the master…” Bowed slightly, a slight rush of relief goes through you as you notice they’ve turned back. Just barely, but it’s something. “-after yourself, of course.”

They huffed in slight amusement.

And your hands shook. Gripped onto the long length of your sleeves, you steadied them before you continued - just as you’d practiced. “I swear upon my soul that no assignment shall be too great, no concern too small. Please—please, I have scoured every street and alley for weeks now in search of employment, and you have been the only one kind enough to open your doors…Any job is enough for me- any. Just spare me the chance.” Hands twisted together into a plea, “I beg of you.”

They looked slightly taken aback, and you stepped closer to seize your chance.

“My body is the master’s, and I shall gladly undertake any task.” You gazed straight into their doe-like, brown eyes—“Any task.”

Their lips barely moved as they repeated, “Any?”

“Any.”

There was a ringing silence following your answer, and you knew that everyone in the once-bustling vicinity must have been staring at you. But that didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered but the way the white-haired attendant let their brows raise, they appraised you from head to toe.

Head to toe.

Head to toe.

It honestly seemed like forever before they finally sighed, “At ease.”

And you shot upwards from your painstaking bow with an awed breath. 

Untold, the doors to the Sukuna Estate opened. They turned around, not meeting your eyes - nor that of anyone around you two - and gestured for you to follow them inside. Stepping inside as though they didn’t care whether you proceeded or not, the strange attendant uttered. “I expect you to use your body well to serve the master.” Just barely tilted to the side to take another look at you, “You have one night to please him.”

The sound of wrought iron echoed through the ancient city like thunder.

And you touched your sleeve once more - your best silk, but more specifically…the dagger you’d hidden beneath it. 

You had one night to take down the King of Curses.

In no time, you’d been led around the massive estate by Uraume - they’d uttered their name to you between the meeting chamber and the second library - and your heart still thumps away at your throat as they now creeeeeeak—! open the quarters for the concubines. Blood bubbling in your veins. Blade cold against your skin.

There was a buzzing sort of excitement that seemed to extend from the weapon and onto you—only growing stronger as you’re pacing inside. 

It wasn’t the small, structured sort of barrack that you might’ve expected - you weren’t sure the validity, but you’d already heard stories about how concubines were cramped together in certain royal palaces. Bunks on top of bunks. Bodies that remained undernourished and untouched.

However, what Uraume takes you through is a gilded hallway—nothing out-of-place from the rest of the palace. On one side was a line of separate rooms, at the end of the hallway the paneled doors opened to a garden. It had unlit lanterns on the high ceilings and intricate artifacts that seemingly sprouted from the gleaming wooden floors; the spotless corridor branched and divulged into several other rooms and hallways, weighed with nameplates, and you were shocked to realize that each concubine seemed to have their room - no matter how small their rank; there was a lingering of perfume in the air. 

Fit for royals.

Your eyes bounce off of the walls, and Uraume watches your reaction closely. “I assume it is to your liking?”

“Yes-” You wouldn’t want to give off the wrong impression - especially not when a mere offense could mean death—“F-forgive me, it’s far more than to my liking, it’s…” Taking another awed look around, “-magnificent. I suppose I didn’t expect it to be so…”

“Beautiful?” Uraume seems to read your mind.

And you can only turn to them and nod. 

They sagely nod, something knowing in their tone. “The master has an inclination to all that is beautiful and surprising.” Looking at you closely, “Particularly surprising.”

Uraume’s expression gives nothing away, and you attempt to do the same - the dagger glints coldly against your hand. A single movement and it could cut you. A single movement and it could be in your hands.

You don’t know how long they maintain eerie eye contact with you before the sound of footsteps makes you tear your eyes away—and where you’re perhaps expecting to see the monster, the inhuman, the master of this house himself—it’s another woman. Human, perhaps.

Donned in expensive silk that robes her figure, she tip-toes towards the two of you with a sheepish smile upon her painted face. 

She bows, and you’re bowing back.

“Forgive my intrusion.” She says as she straightens once more, “It is seldom we meet a new girl. Perhaps this is forward, but am I right in presuming you are one of the new concubines?”

“O-oh, you are correct.” You’re surprised by her warm and welcoming demeanour - weren’t fights and jealousy typical of close concubine quarters? Wasn’t she supposed to scheme and plot against you just as you were doing against her- you suppose your master?

But she takes your hand and beams at you, “Then it is most wonderful to make your acquaintance. Ask me anything you would like.”

Your lips part - unsure what to say - but the white-haired attendant at your side beats you to it by announcing. “Dinner shall be served shortly.” They turn, about to make their exit before eyeing you closely. “Human.”

And you wondered whether they meant to call you human…or they meant that dinner was human. 

Once those delicate doors slide shut, and Uraume’s footsteps disappear, you’re just then realizing that you were still holding onto the other woman’s hand. Mustering up some semblance of a smile, you’re asking her—“Could you tell me about…Ryomen Sukuna?”

.

.

.

“There’s a descendant of the esteemed Kamo clan here, as well—” One of the women chuckle, taking a deep drink of her sake - one of those expensive types that came in an intricate wooden box. She smacks her lips in satisfaction, “-but you just missed her.”

Your heart batters against your chest- you still had the dagger hidden up your sleeve. Setting down your water, you hope that none of the other concubines here can hear the waver in your voice- “I see. Is she perhaps attending the…?”

“Huh?” The woman looks at blearily for a few seconds. “Who? The master?”

You nod silently.

She exchanges a look with one of the other women-

Before bursting into rambunctious laughter. 

And you’re sitting there confused as they clap one another on the shoulders, as they rattle the food-laden table—as they wipe mirthful tears from their eyes. Repeating the last sentence to one another and breaking out into peels of laughter once more. Surely, you hadn’t said anything too humorous…perhaps this was some unspoken rule of etiquette you’d missed?

It hadn’t been too long since you’d been somewhat- absorbed into the group of numerous concubines upon concubines that were housed in the Sukuna Estate. Many more than you’d initially predicted - the hallway you’d entered had been just one of many residential wings. 

Right now, about half of them sat at a long table of which you couldn’t clearly see its end - both because of length and the sheer volume of food towering upon it. All sorts of soups and noodles. All sorts of breads and wines. All sorts of meats and charred vegetables. Desserts and colorfully-packaged sweets from around the world that you’d once believed that only the emperor himself would have been able to taste.

It would have been possible to dislike every food you’d ever known, and still find something here that made you wish to stay…if just for the food.

You could hear the other half of the women chattering and laughing away in another dining room connected to this one. 

All in all, your proponent - a woman you’d learned was connected with the Fujiwara family - had told you everything about Sukuna as she introduced you to the other concubines. They took you in readily, to your surprise, and cooed and surrounded and showed you around. Speaking to you about how the estate was designed personally by Sukuna himself. How Uraume was his (human) cook. How he was a ruthless ruler, and the hallways were more often bloodied than not—but he didn’t lay a hand on them.

When they’d told you this, you’d assumed it was regarding his more…aggressive reputation on the battlefield. You didn’t think it meant-

“Our Kamo girl has travelled to Edo.” The woman from earlier - Abe, you remember her name being - continues as the others settle down. She whispers scandalously, “To visit her lover.”

You breathe in sharply, “The master permits you to take lovers?”

“It isn’t that he permits…” Fujiwara smiles warmly at you - not too far down the table. The other concubines nod as she continues, “It’s that he doesn’t pry—he has no time for human frivolities. After all, the master hasn’t called for one of the girls in…well, since we can remember. He’s a picky man. But nowadays, girls enter and leave the estate as they please, as they wish for employment. Most choose to join the house staff in time, for we aren’t bound, and the master seems to have no need for concubines these days.”

Surprise overtakes you, your hand grips tightly on your sleeve. But your objective…

Abe speaks up now, “Which is why it’d been quite the surprise to know he’d allowed in yet another.” She leans in with a conspiratorial smile, “Perhaps you’re the type to really get his loins going-”

“Abe—!” A few other women swat at her.

“I jest- I jest—” She winks at you, “In part. Would you prefer to lay with the master?”

Something twists at the bottom of your stomach, “I-if it must come to it, I wouldn’t mi-”

You’re cut off as they exclaim in scandal all around you. 

Fujiwara shakes her head with a smile, then she looks at you. “No matter what it is, you shall be housed and fed here. You shall never go without despite the master’s…”

“Impotence?”

“…”

“I jest-”

“What’s more—” She pulls back her sleeves and gestures for a bowl of sake, “Given the state of affairs, I highly doubt that you would ever have to-”

Just then, there’s a tap at the sliding doors.

An announcement of Uraume’s title—before they’re cracking the entrance open just a fraction. That stark white hair of theirs flashes from the gap in the door, illuminated by both the dim yellow lighting and the curiosity leaking out of the dining room; eyes scanning the vast chamber before finally landing on you.

An utterance of your name.

All eyes snap to you.

“The master wishes for you to join him tonight.”

One by one, you could feel the jaws of the other women drop—as well as your own. Right alongside something at the pit of your stomach that you couldn’t quite describe. 

As the silence stretches and expands to the other speechless dining chamber- Fujiwara lets out a pointed cough—and it’s all you need to jolt right back to your senses. Scrambling to stand up, you barely have the time to smooth down your kimono before following Uraume out of the room - throwing a cautionary glance over your shoulder. 

Fujiwara smiles, slightly shocked. 

Abe winks. 

The sliding doors rattle closed, and the whirlwind of gossip that follows accompanies you even to the bridge. 

Head ducked. Hands in sleeves. Uraume remains painfully silent as you’re following them down winding hallways and past chambers vast enough to be estates themselves; and though you’d been given a tour of the place beforehand, you can’t help but let your mind get just a little frazzled at the thought of what was to come after.

Of what was to come once they finally stopped.

And they do—after what feels like nights upon nights, the white-haired attendant stops before two sliding doors - nothing but sliding doors. Though you’d assumed that the King himself might have decked his personal chambers with several of his best guards, you’re realizing with a prickle of anticipation that he didn’t need them.

But that only made your job easier.

Invisible hands seem to pull the doors - panes decorated in artwork depicting archery - apart, and you’re entering a room that would have been too lavish for an emperor. 

A massive rectangular-shaped room of which strange interconnected woodwork make up the flooring; windows towering from floor-to-ceiling, half-hidden by thick curtains of red velvet. They clung themselves onto a ceiling that was gilded, calligraphy rounding the high perimeter, and a chandelier-like composition of lanterns fashioned down from it. Reds and greens and blacks and golds, the most eye-catching painting colors of furniture within. 

In the far end of the royal chamber was the futon. 

And you would describe its incredible size and its golden threading, even the red, red blanket that covered it- you would…but your eyes were far more interested in who was occupying it.

Thighs spread. Two elbows resting on his knees.

All four eyes locked on you since the moment you step inside-

“Uraume.” His lips barely seem to move, though that hoarse baritone is hard to deny. It wasn’t as inhuman as you might have expected—it sounded human and yet, there was surely something malevolent in the way he made your thighs squeeze together with just a single word. “You are dismissed.”

You’re feeling Uraume bow deeply next to you, and in the blink of an eye they’re gone-

In another blink of an eye, Ryomen Sukuna has one large hand stuck out - index quirked at you, he beckons you to him once. Only once. 

And you gulp as you walk to him.

This was your first time really seeing the King of Curses- fuck. He was wearing nothing but baggy white pants and a strange, carnal inkling about him. Engulfing you in it the second you’re locking eyes with him. The legends were right…somewhat.

Because Sukuna truly was larger than any mere mortal could ever be: with shoulders sculptured and broad enough that they’d put your best warriors to shame, with corded muscle around biceps the size of your head, with his pecs creating a bumpy road for his tattoos. He was about nine feet tall—perhaps even taller than the stories said. Far taller. Far stronger. Far more monstrous. 

Abs consistently patterned his front, disrupted only by the presence of his second mouth - it slashes aaaaall the way across his navel, large n’ licking his cursed lips with a grin.

And those tattoos- oh, those tattoos.

They were the tattoos of a criminal - two looping around each of his four arms like shackles, and then a circle on all four deltoids.

You bite the inside of your cheek—you knew your mission. But fuck- you won’t deny that a part of you wanted him so bad. 

Sukuna’s pink hair catches the lantern light as he leans back on two hands, meaty thighs manspreading before you. And in-between you swear you could see the thick, throbbing outlines of two-

“On your knees.” The King commands. Crimson eyes narrowing, “Should you so wish.”

And your knees are buckling almost instinctually- he raises a rose-pink brow as he watches your hands reach for your sleeve…before ultimately going against your orders to settle down before the foot of the bed where he was seated. 

Embarrassment curdles in your chest as you’re crawlin’ yourself closer to him, and the sorcerer himself hums in approval once you’re leaning your cheek against his right thigh. Rubbing. 

The muscles underneath twitch—and Sukuna’s swollen tips let out a spurt of precum that puddles right in front of your lips. That translucent dampness stretches across the fabric and wets your lips with its salty taste- you whine.

Right before he grasps the back of your sweaty scalp with one massive hand- and shoves your head down onto one clothed cock. Your mouth gaped wide and plopping! right on top of his mushroomy tip—an open kiss against where his sensitive slit was flared outwards. 

He’s pulsating against your lips.

And you’re moaning with your eyes squeezed shut at the feeling of his entire tip being nearly fuckin’ big enough to envelop your entire maw-

“Do you understand now?” Sukuna’s tone rumbles from above - low and level in a way that speaks of such power. He doesn’t reveal anything more, however. “Do you understand that your puny human body cannot handle me?”

You’re looking up at him with furrowed brows, “I-I understand…”

“Do you understand that I may ruin you?”

“I understand.”

“Do you understand that you cannot take m-”

“I want you-” And almost as bewildering as the fact that you’ve interrupted him, is that Ryomen Sukuna doesn’t crush you with his cursed energy on the spot for interrupting him. “-my lord.”

But that seems to be his tipping point. For his large stomach mouth quirks upwards in what almost seems like a smile—

And Sukuna gruffs out, “Then kiss your King.”

And so you’re gripping onto the soft edge of the mattress and leaning yourself up into his kiss- not the one his face was so ready for—but one where you’re leaning in and pressing a chaste peck onto his second mouth.

Onto those monstrously large lips hungrily gaping at his stomach.

Onto that fucking hungry - starved - maw so deprived of any touch that he’s immediately slurpin’ the edge of his textured tongue outwards. Attempting to enter his incredible size between your own lips, Sukuna’s only managing to fit about an inch of his cursed tastebuds—swipin’ the insides of your heated cavern and making you gasp, before he’s searing his grip into your scalp and tugging you off-

“Naughty naughty.” He trundles. And yet there’s a glimmer of something different in his eyes that told you Ryomen Sukuna was almost…excited. He’s patting one side of him on the futon, “Come up here with me, insolent thing.”

In no time, you’re hauled onto the bed and straddling the infamous King. 

Thighs struggling to squeeze around his toned core, cunt drooling your slick through your panties. As you’re inadvertently rubbing uuuup and down his ridged abs- it creates a snail trail of glistening sap that trickles all the way down to his pinkish-brown happy trail. 

Sukuna titters once he leans his head down and takes in the mess - n’ then he’s gripping one side of your waist with a single hand. 

Squeezing lightly, it doesn’t take even a mere fraction of his power to glide the exterior of your pussy down those unruly tufts of hair—dooooooown in a carnal scratch as he positions you directly on top of his second mouth.

His second mouth.

Now gaped wide open and fucking ravenous.

Immediately cracking apart from each other with a parched gasp- something deep and rumbling from his underbelly. It reminds you of a creature that’s been starved for eons—something that makes shivers run up your spine right from the in-betweens of your drippin’ wet cunt. Right as you’re feeling his oversized tongue press aside your ruined underwear and start to eeeeeease inside-

“Fuh-fuuuuck—” Dazed peripherals rolling to the back of your head - without even realizing it, you’re planting your feet onto the futon and bucking- whether more into Sukuna’s cursed mouth or away from it…you’re unsure.

But he’s making the decision for you. He’s cupping either side of your hips with two clawed hands, letting those pointed tips dig into your clammy flesh, “Easy-” Letting out a rumbling chuckle. “Easy there, woman.”

Gasping, you’re lurching- 

“Easy.”

And it’s all he needs to steady you.

It’s all he needs to tighten his hold onto your squirmin’ body, until it’s like he’s attached onto you with adhesive. It doesn’t take much of him to move you ‘round and spread open those folds even further like a pretty flower—that massive tongue of his wastes no time before swirling around that first ring of muscle. Cutely clenching around him- fuck, he can’t wait.

Before slurping his muscle back and shoving it straight between your pussylips. 

Through the popping pressure in your ear, “Because how’re you gonna take my cocks otherwise?”

And you really didn’t forget who you were dealing with, did you?

You really didn’t think that Ryomen Sukuna - the King of Curses - was going to go easy on you…did you?

Because without even waiting for your struggling walls to get used to the size, his enlarged tongue reels all the way backwards with a deafening slurp! Right until the curvaceous tip was ticklin’ at your entrance, before Sukuna’s thrusting all the way back in. Again.

Your toes curl. Your eyes dart instantly to the back of your head. 

Sukuna himself cracks a smirk- before he’s then doing it again.

And again.

“Don’t think yer running from it.” A third hand ends up plastered atop your clammy scalp- dangerously gripping your head and puuuuuushing you down onto him. 

As far as your tight hole would let him. Your thighs quiver, “B-but-” Bucking.

“Now now, brat—” Pushing you back down. “Ya get what you’re given.”

Again and again.

It doesn’t matter how many times you’re twisting on top of him because of the ruthless swabbin’ of his tastebuds inside. Honed at the very tip and zig-zagging around in a way that makes you viscerally shake on top of him—he’s slipping his velvety muscle inside and stirring it a few times to get a reeeeally good feel for your walls. For how much you’d stretch. “Because you shall fit- oh…” He seethes between clenched canines, nose scrunched at the very top. “You must- fit it. You must not run away.”

Another tough battering ram of his thick tongue - it’s almost adorable how your poor body is being jerked to and fro. He murmurs, “For who can possibly escape Ryomen Sukuna? Heh.”

His tongue seems to wind n’ stretch even deeper inside you after his own self-praise - you always have heard rumors about the King of Curses being particularly egotistical…though righteously. 

And again and again—“P-please.” Sukuna’s second tongue fills you up in all sorts of ways you’ve never felt before - not with the texture or the size or the complete and utter need…Those ridged tastebuds of his were pushin’ into eeeeevery single nook and cranny he could reach - which was all of them. At least, as far back as your dewy walls were allowing him to go, “Such a size should be-”

“Necessary.” He’s cutting you off cleanly. “Besides…”

Sukuna raises a pink brow, leaning backwards on the mattress to watch his massive tongue indulge in and out. In and out. In and out.

Your puffy folds being pushed apart at a rapid pace, your gloss seeping everywhere as he tunnels inside—he’s letting out a low whistle of approval as his second mouth creates such a mess between your legs. Monstrous tongue jerking outwards and slapping the front of your cunt teasingly- it makes a fresh wave of your juices slather down your thighs.

And he smiles - already knowing that he’s going to clean this up later.

The King’s chest rumbles with satisfaction, “Heh- you should be aware, little human…that m’not even halfway inside yet.”

There were two things in that sentence that drove you utterly wild: the fact that he mentioned he was barely inside, and the fact that he said…yet. As though to prove the point he’d just sparked inside your muddled brain, Sukuna arches his hips off the bed and ruts-

Pistoning his tongue a mere inch deeper.

Even though - to you - it feels like he’d just struck his tongue against your very throat—“Wh-what you claiming…” Your thighs quake as he continues fucking you between them, “How much longer may you possibly have to go?”

“Oh…an inch, two, four….seven.” Sukuna tilts his head airily, “Tch- such tedious tasks are meant for humans. How about you count instead?”

You balk, “Pardon, master?”

“Count, little human.” And without a single warning, his fourth hand snakes underneath your flapping kimono- between those sopping pussylips and squeezing at your poor clit. “Your master orders you to count.”

And the only thing you can possibly do is let your eyes shutter at the pleasure, lips trembling as Sukuna’s second tongue finds its mazin’ way across your walls. As you’re struggling to get a single word out, however, at least the ruthless sorcerer slooooows his pace down to something more languid- making sure you feel every bump and vein.

Every quirk.

Every inch.

Until finally you’re throwing your head behind and vocalizing—after only a few sloppy strikes. “T-two…”

“Heh…interesting.” One of those gnarled hands clasped onto your sides reaches upwards n’ grabs onto your pretty face, smushin’ those cheeks together as he stares deeply into your eyes. Sukuna takes in your dazed peripherals, your spit-glossed lips - the way you looked completely and utterly gone on his tongue, and yet…still managed to answer his question.

Mere mortals never did manage to surprise him anymore. You, however…

Before even he knows what he’s doing, Ryomen Sukuna leans inwards and spits between your gaped maw. Rushing to then kiss you with his own lips - eyes widened, mouth hungry. He looks bewildered himself, as his cursed mouth continues rubbin’ your pussy raw—“It seems we have a feisty little human on our hands.” Three out of four hands groping at your sides and making you ride him-

You’re trembling.

“And yet, who told you to cease your counting?”

Thwack!

“Three—” You cry out. Expectedly, Sukuna was mean—that fourth n’ final hand of his plasters his knobbly fingertips against your sensitive nub. Spanking you hard enough to see stars.

But Sukuna only grins, “Incorrect.”

Yet another spank. Yet another brush of his cursed tongue inwards- and you swear that you’re starting to hear his second mouth start to snicker to himself. Was that even possible? 

Were you even thinking? Were you even breathing?

It doesn’t take his keen eyes long to realize that he’s left you completely and utterly stupid on his tongue—just so luscious and lewd. Spreadin’ apart your puffy folds and funneling your insides with him, “Four- four—”

“Correct.” Just to tease you, those fingers of his leave another rude spank.

And Sukuna doesn’t bother letting you gather your bearings before he’s delving even deeper. 

“F-five…” You’re trembling out as you feel the massaging texture of his tastebuds enter, they’re pokin’ into spots you hadn’t even realized you had - filling out your tight channel and leaving his shape molded straight into your cunt. “And is that…ngh- six?”

“That was seven.” He rumbles out in a smug tone.

Your jaw drops as you register the massive number - seven inches of his cursed tongue fucking your pussy. And yet it still doesn’t seem as though he’s planning to stop anytime soon…

Back arched, you’re keeping your hands on top of Sukuna’s broad shoulders. Nails digging into his deltoids. And with all the strength that you could muster, you’re attempting to riiiiiide your hips back down onto his—grinding in figure-eight motions.

Sukuna was already manhandling you down onto him - now it might just be your turn to control the cadence. To control how much of him went inside you.

“J-just fuck me already—” You’re pleading. Your jaw drops with a parched whimper, hips veering down harder and harder- “Ngh- that was eight. Nine. Just fuck me- all of me.”

Sukuna’s eyes widen in slight surprise- before he’s quickly catching himself and tightening the two hands at your waist. “Now now…easy there. Go too fast for a little human, and yer going to hurt yourself.”

“But I need it.” Lip jutting out in the cutest damn pout, “I need you inside me, Kuna.”

His breath catches, “Repeat what you just uttered.”

Back bending into the most delicious curve, pushing up against his sweaty pecs. You’re sobbing out as his stomach mouth gapes even wider n’ seemed to push in even more, more, moooore of his sultry inches—“N-nine and a half…? I need you inside-”

“Not that-” Smacking your clit once more. “-you insolent brat.” The tip of his tastebuds reach the very back of your pussy, and it’s a sensation you just can’t describe. “That…title. I command you to hah, repeat it.”

“Title?”

Thwack!

“Repeat it.”

And it’s taking everything and anything in you - in your utterly cockdrunken mind - to conjure up the faintest inkling about what Sukuna was talking about. To let your head throw back with a final primal cry—for the first time since he’d started fucking you with his stomach mouth, you’re finally feeling your ass cheeks seat down properly on top of his washboard abs. 

And then you’re finding yourself in his strong arms, your moans muffled into his actual mouth. “T-ten.” Gasping through the constant drool n’ sounds of pleasure clogging up your throat, “That’s ten, Kuna—”

And there it was.

Theeeeeere it was - in more ways than one.

Ryomen Sukuna’s getting to hear that sultry nickname fall from your mouth once more - for some inexplicable reason leaving the tips of his ears feeling warm - and he’s getting to see you complete his command.

Ten entire inches of his cursed second tongue- lickin’ away every trace of sap at your inner thighs, before he’s pushing it all the way inwards. Inwards and inwards. The maw slashed across his stomach grins as he’s hitting the very back of your pussy-

And before you know it, the King is tugging you into his arms.

He kisses your mouth sloppily while his second tongue continues fucking you between your legs. Harder by the minute.

Sukuna grunts as he opens his mouth wiiiiide n’ slips his tongue between your jaw- “Suck on my tongue.” He’s echoing out in a hollow tone.

And you can do nothing but squeeze your glossy lips together—eagerly suckling on his tongue. You’re unsure whether it was from your lavish dinner prior or whether it’s just how hazy your brain is, but you’re finding him to taste almost…sweet.

And your eyes roll to the back of your head as you do so-

“Heh-” Sukuna manages to pant out between kisses, open-mouthed and hot. “Now both pairs of pretty lips are sucking on my tongue.”

And your jaw…drops- only for him to use the opportunity to kiss you even deeper.

Making you ride his stomach mouth whilst he kisses you stupid - his tongue probing inwards, inwards, inwards in looooong slick thrusts. Scrapin’ every orifice inside but especially bending around to hit your g-spot. 

You’re sure your body jolts as you feel the sudden zaps of charged pleasure, setting your body positively alight. “I-I’m so close, master.” You pout, “I must- hah- cum.”

“Must, hm?” Sukuna mutters - almost to himself. “And am I to believe that my human deserves to cum? Am I to believe that she is ready to take both my cocks?”

Nodding fervently, “Y-yes—yes, please-”

“Am I to believe that she will have no trouble taking me down to the very womb?”

“Yes-”

Crimson eyes narrow, “I will not slow down, needy human. Am I to believe that-”

“Yes-” Just so gone on your impending high. So close. 

And to your surprise, the King merely chuckles as you’re interrupting him - had this been anyone else, then they would have found themselves being made an example of. But you…you’re finding yourself jerked almost aggressively upwards as he bucks his hips, more to run the ridges of his cursed tastebuds along the interior of your walls. Harder. Faster.

You hurtle straight into your high at an incredible pace-

“If you had let your King finish…” It’s the last thing you’re hearing before the pleasure overtakes you - Sukuna’s rumbling tone. “-then perhaps you would have known my question was whether I’m to believe you shall give me an heir in my name.”

His question was going to be whether you’d give him an heir.

His question was going to be whether you’d give him an heir.

But you’re unable to articulate anything more than a few whimpers n’ grunts - because the waves of your orgasm that overtake you are enough to leave you numb. Enough to leave you babbling. Enough to leave you shaking on top of Sukuna’s toned body as he shovels his fat tongue in and out.

In and out. In and out.

The way his overlarge tongue curved was just perfect for hittin’ every spot, and you’re feeling him time out your peaks perfectly—knowing juuust when the surges of your dopamine were at their highest. 

Just then, he’d slam! his flattened tastebuds onto the exact spot of your nerves. Fingers nothing but a dizzying blur between your legs as he rolls his thumb over your clit, “Gonna take my t-tongue-” Sukuna spits between honed canines, “Gonna take my cocks then- gonna take my seed.”

“Sh-shiiiiit—” You yowl, “It feels so good, Kuna-”

“That’s ‘master’ to you.” He scoffs, nose sliding down the column of your throat. Sukuna takes one more look at the way you’re swallowing him up - at the way you grind deeper to stuff his glistening muscle between your pussylips, and shivers. “Or…consider yourself lucky to be shown mercy this time, human. Say thank you.”

“Thank you, Kuna.”

“Tch-”

And with that said, it’s not long before you’re completely and utterly fucked through your orgasm by the mouth on his stomach—through every tiny shred n’ ounce of pleasure. 

Once Sukuna feels your quiverin’ pussy finish, he’s pulling out of you with the most lecherous squelch! Letting your thighs drape limply around his waist for a few seconds- that’s as long as the King can manage before he’s sitting up on the futon and flipping the two of you around.

So that your back was against the mattress. So that your head was hitting the pillows.

Sukuna crawls his massive figure down the length of your body- four arms pinning back your slick-sheened legs as he pushes his head between them. He’s wasting no time before digging his larger-than-mortal nose between your sodden pussylips and giving your cunt a good liiiiiiiiick of his actual tongue - this time tasting you with his actual mouth.

“Shit—” You’re surging up from your comfortable position, sparks sizzling in your brain. “A-again, Kuna?”

“Your master never had his fill.”

And with that said, he’s lavishin’ your pussy with countless long licks and dribbles. Lips glued to your folds. Breathing through his nose. Sukuna darts his tongue out - thick, though definitely not to the extent of his stomach mouth’s - and zig-zags it across your entrance.

Easing his wet muscle inside—inside and inside. He’s scourin’ every inch of your walls as though to check every mark he’s made before. Just so tender. 

The velvety inches of his tastebuds flickering in and out- five inches long, you’re realizing automatically. Far longer than a normal human’s.

And it just drives you insane. 

The edges of his fangs nip either side of your entrance - Sukuna had already left you so raw with his cursed tongue prior, so now it’s only taking a few seconds before he’s getting you to spray your orgasmic juices all over his mouth once more—“K-Kuna, I’m close.”

He hums at the feeling of your trembling fingers weaving into his pink hair, “Close? Stupid brat, you’re already cumming.”

The wetness of your cunt spills down his chin.

And Sukuna’s dragging his tongue iiiiiiiiiiiin and out at a constant, sloppy pace to get you through your high. To elongate it. Curving the pointed tip of his tongue against your g-spot - he holds it there for a few seconds just to feel you shake n’ clench around him.

Before he’s breathing through his nostrils and starting to synchronize your peaks with the slashes of his tongue. “Mhmmmm—” He moans out sultry vibrations, they send shockwaves up your spine. “Yes- fuck, yes. I believe this pussy is ready for me.”

Raging through you hard and fast - he doesn’t have much time before your legs start to twitch cutely with overstimulation. Tears sheening down your face. Your jaw unfastened with the most sinful noises. 

Sukuna’s prominent nose pushes up against your clit and you’re crying out—

Looking up at you with hungry, half-lidded eyes. “I believe this pussy is ready to be my queen.”

With the pins and needles of your last two orgasms still coursing through your body, it’s nothing but a blur to you as Sukuna hovers his large body over yours once more. And it’s as if one second you’re blinking up into his handsome face, and in the next—you’re finding him laid back against the mattress- and you laid back against him. 

Your head rests against his collarbone. Your back was arched against his stomach mouth.

Your legs were dangling off somewhere around his lower half- until Sukuna reaches two of his powerful arms down to position you properly. First, he’s grabbing either side of your waist and aligning you with where his clothed erections were—then he’s spreading your legs wiiiiiiide open.

Finally, he’s cupping his clawed hands underneath your thighs and pulling them up, up, up, upwards—until they were stretched out almost beyond your ears. And Sukuna was just basking proudly in this rude full nelson that he’d manhandled you into.

Gruff laugh echoing by the side of your ear, “And now…” In the corner of your teary peripherals, you’re seeing his other two arms bend to your lower half. “-to check for myself whether this pussy can really follow orders…”

Your kimono was already an utter mess- and Sukuna doesn’t have to do much to have it bunched around your naked hips. Your cunt all glistening with slick n’ saliva from earlier—hissing at the heated air that’s hitting you. “Shit…I need you so badly, master.”

“Then I expect you to take every inch.” He replies ominously. Just then, his eager fingers drop to the hemline of his pants. “I expect you to take every drop-”

And he’s tugging.

Only for your jaw to fall—

Because Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t just huge - you’d already expected as much, given his height and other physical prowess. But he was just staggering.

Just like the rest of him, there was double the number of appendages as there would be on a normal human. Two achingly-hard cocks stacked on top of each other. Inches upon inches. Despite your counting challenge earlier, you’re having trouble registering the sheer lengths that he could possibly be - ten…no….twelve? Perhaps even longer. Though you’re noticing that the upper one was just the slightest bit longer than the other.

Both just as girthy. 

Round and reddened. The plump, puckered tips upon their ends throbbed with carnal desire- oozing out generous helpings of milky-white precum that dribble down the front of your cunt. It mixes with the mess already made before, and leaves your thighs sticky with need. 

Heavy ballsack twitching underneath his second shaft. So many veins that you lose count.

“K-Kuna—” You’re whimpering as he starts to rub the shafts of his two cocks between your swollen pussylips. Pushin’ them apart and making space for his ruthless girths instead, “Want it inside, Kuna- hck! I really crave you inside me…”

“Oh, little human…” He coos from above. Larger face craning down next to yours, “Did you really believe that I was hesitating? That I was waiting for you?”

“I suppose…”

“Here’s where you are mistaken, my puny thing.” Sukuna trundles, and you don’t have to look behind to know that his sharp fangs were making an appearance. “I am no kindred man.”

A shiver runs down your spine.

And before you can open your mouth to ask what exactly he meant—his rounded tips press against your wettened crevice. Just the sweetest dual pecks, they’re letting out harsh slurps! as he starts to slip around your needy hole. “I wasn’t waiting for your body to get ready, as you so might have believed.”

“Th-then—?” You sob.

“I was waiting…” Your body bucks down into his, your hands reach up to grab at his pinkish locks and- 

And your dagger slips out.

His voice grows excited. “I was waiting-” Both of you reach for it at the same time, Sukuna with his four arms and you with your two. Your heart stutters- your hand closes around the thick, metallic hilt—“…for a distraction.”

Several things are happening at once: for one, Sukuna finally forgoes teasin’ at your readied hole to instead scour his cocks inside - fucking in with a long, hard thrust. Deeeeeeeply pressing against your cervix—it feels as though he’s splitting you sensually from the inside out, and you’ve never felt anything better.

And then you’re closing your fingers around the blade - tight - and aiming behind you to press the sharpened edge of it against his throat. 

You knew you’d struck your target. Especially when you feel the dagger tremble as he chuckles- chuckles. The King of Curses has the audacity to chuckle.

When you have a weapon to his throat.

You’re unsure whether it was overconfidence or something else entirely- but his hips don’t falter for a single second as he rams his swabbin’ tips thoroughly inwards—thumping away at the back of your pussy. Your ears sizzle with the slamming impact of skin-on-skin, “And so?” He mutters to you, “For what reason do you stall? Do it.”

You grit your teeth, blade pressing against his sunkissed skin until a bead of crimson peppers out. “Do you believe that I am too cowardly to do so?”

“Forbid the thought.” Sukuna hums, “A King assassinated by his favorite concubine? How romantic. I merely implore you to hasten-”

“I shall—”

“So do it.”

“Do not regret-”

“Do it.” 

In fact, he leans in even closer as though to help you.

He’s fucking you deep from the rounded orifice of your cunt, to the very depths of your womb. Pulse thundering inside - until it felt like he was taking over every single part of you—until your teeth were set on edge, and the thud-thud-thudding of his matching cocktips was all that you could think of. 

Your hand trembles around the hilt.

Your lips wobble with emotion.

Your eyes lock deeply with Sukuna’s own hellishly crimson ones, and-

And the dagger falls gently onto the cotton futon.

Sukuna’s body ripples with a sensation that could’ve been anything from pleasure, to victory, to utter glee—but most of all, his tone just sounded awed. 

“I knew there was something special about you, woman.”

And then you’re being crushed in Sukuna’s arms as far back as you would go - as high as your legs could reach above your head, as curvaceously as your spine could bend against his core. He’s manhandling you like nothing but a ragdoll above him—plastered to his muscular back, you’re at the mercy of his vicious thrust after thrust.

The stretch was just incredible.

The stretch was like nothing you’ve ever felt before.

Two thick, loooooooong shafts that were mazin’ between your sopping pussylips- the rounded edges of their cockheads manage to swerve your tight walls apart. Jostling against one another. Throbbing in synchronization inside you - ba-dump! Ba-dump! Ba-dump! Scraping his thumping veins inside and reaching aaaall across every nook, orifice, and cranny. Just so big.

Sukuna himself grunts out in pleasure as his cocks manage to press through the slight resistance you still maintained - his cursed tongue had stretched you out incredibly, and he’s groaning out in pleasure as his cocks manage to slide against one another and then against you- “And now- hah, and now I believe you remember what you promised me?”

“Promised?” Your lashes flutter open, “I-I’m afraid…”

“You promised me an heir.”

Your maw droops open. Your heart starts to race.

Your cunt’s drooling out your arousal at the prospect faster than you could register it- and Sukuna feels the sploshin’ leaks around his thickened bases. His grin stretches as he takes in your unspoken reaction, and before you know it—both sliding cocks are knocking at the door to your very womb-

“And I’m not Ryomen Sukuna if I don’t fuck one into you tonight, brat.”

Rough thrusts. Crushing you in his big, beefy arms. 

Closer and closer. Tighter and tighter. 

If you thought that you’d been treated like a ragdoll earlier- then you’d been lucky. Because now you’re pressed between his bulging biceps and his pecs, sweat covering both your bodies in a thin sheen as your movements grow more and more fervent—“Fuck a- hah, fuck my heir into you.” Sukuna was barely speaking by now - short, rasping bursts. “Fuck you so big and fuuuuuuuull.”

Running two hands down your front—“Master, I have doubts that it gets much more full than this.”

And he lets out what almost sounds like a guffaw, “It can.”

“Wh-what do you mean- oh.”

And all this time, you’d been damn thankful that Sukuna had chosen to stretch you out on his oversized tongue first—how else would you have fit him so easily? Softenin’ up the snug exterior of your channel. Mapping out your sweetest spots. 

Because it just made it even easier to slip inside—it just made it sooooo much more convenient for his dual tips to probe open your wet cunt. Inching and easing.

But then you’re starting to feel a third intrusion.

Then you’re starting to feel his needy tongue once more.

You’re gasping- 

The slightest, smallest ticklish sensation of…none other than his cursed mouth dragging down the inner sorts of your thighs. Just teasing. Just the roughened ridges of his tastebuds, long enough that he can snake them down and flatten them over that soft skin beside your cunt.

And in a matter of mere moments, Sukuna’s rugged hands settle deeper against your skin. Tight. Tough. He’s double-checking to make sure that your restless hips couldn’t skin away- before reeling his hips back and penetrating you in longer, harder ruts—each rude slammin’ of his cocks accompanied by the soothing laps of his cursed tongue. 

“Y-yet again—?” You’re blabbering out stupidly. Tears falling in big, bulbous beads down either of your cheeks and ending up smeared, “Kuna-”

“Mhmmmm.” He hums out - and you could almost hear the smugness in it. The way his piercing canines make an appearance as he says, “It’s for your own good, brat.” One of his hands lifts off of your sweat-covered body - folded like a lawnchair - and Sukuna runs it down your middle.

He stops right above where both his swabbin’ cocks and his tongue had started to form a tiny bulge at your stomach—“S-sensitive-”

“Exactly.” He sounds so content with himself. So damn content.

Those handsome lips - both pairs of them - quirk further upwards as he’s massaging the front of your stomach—particularly over that one spot where you’re stuffed till you’re bloated. Pressing down-down-dooooown- “And how shall this puny human body handle carrying my heir, hm?” He growls as he accelerates his ruts, “How?”

Mouth sobbing open in answer.

You're gripping onto either side of his muscular body and swervin’ your hips in response- unsure whether you wanted to rut back down for more or just…

“Running away?” Sukuna's dangerous trundle sounds from behind you, and the clasp he has on your shuddering body only grows stronger. Before you know it, you’re being manhandled like nothing but his favorite toy and shoved right back onto his twin erections-

He continues, “If you can’t handle two of my cocks—” They’re emptying out at the bottom of your pussy with two distinct thuds! The top one first, and then the squeezin’ of the latter. “If you can’t even handle my tongue…the babies of my lineage tend to be large.” 

Palm pressing down on your stomach.

“Does this pretty womb have enough space?”

And there’s nothing more for you to do but throw your head backwards and buck up into his awaiting arms. He’s only seeming to crush you even deeper against his toned body, “It does-”

“What was that?” One pink brow raises.

“I s-said it does—it does.” You’re blabbering away, thighs attempting to wrangle downwards so that you can steady yourself. But the only thing that’s succeeding in doing is making Sukuna tighten his restraint on you maddeningly - “I can fit even more of you- hngh, I can fit your…”

He grins- and this time it’s his second mouth that hisses demandingly at you. “Say it.”

“Heir in here…” And if this was any other time - if you’d been in any clearer of a state of mind - you wouldn’t have said such embarrassing words in your lifetime. And yet, here you were—bouncin’ down welcomingly into Sukuna’s largely gaped maw. “I want it, Kuna.”

“Heh?” He grins, “Then brace yourself.”

And it’s the only warning you’re getting - honestly, you’re surprised to realize that he’d given you any at all. 

Because in the next few seconds- his cursed mouth goes from lappin’ away at the sweet, sweet juices coating the edges of your cunt—to slithering between those puffy pussylips of yours and attempting to devour your pussy whole again.

Two arms laced behind your clammy scalp. Two more arms reaching down to toy with your overstimulated pussy.

“O-oh gods-” Hiccuping through your tears as you start to feel the pleasurable burn of your pussylips stretchin’ once more.

Wider and wider.

Deeper and deeper.

In, in, and in—

Sukuna's second mouth tenderly whips apart your wet walls—with the most lecherous squeeeelch! he's then attempting to stroke his tongue inwards between the thrusts of his dual cocks. Sharp, stabbing thrusts. Just to fit inside.

Three- three of his sinful appendages attempting to stuff you all full - you're losing your mind already with his throbbing cocks, but now Sukuna's tongue was a different sort of texture altogether that was just leaving you on the verge of-

“You can cum.” The King sputters out against your temple, lips moving what seems like a mile a minute. “But you have to remember to reward me with a strong heir after, hm?” Tap-tapping at the tummy bulge he was fucking into you, “Hafta give me one with my powers. Hafta give me one that- hngh, I can train into the strongest. Hafta give me one with- haaaah…” He breathes out laboriously, “-that smile.”

Your eyes shoot open as you’re registering exactly what he’s uttered, “Kuna…fuck, it feels so good.”

“Please…” And it might just be the first time that you’ve witnessed the infamous Ryomen Sukuna utter a word of plea since you’ve met him. That chiselled cheek of his nuzzles down the side of your temple, “-call me your husband.”

Oh.

Oh.

You’re barely even given enough time to let the entire ordeal sink of having him inside you sink in- before the wooden panels beneath the futon creeeeeeak—! And Sukuna’s arching his hips fully off of the dampened mattress, entering his entire greedy lengths into your pussy.

Again and again.

Reeling back until it was only the plump, glossy tips kissin’ at your entrance - before drag-drag-dragging his pulsating length inwards. In-between he just barely manages to squeeze his textured tongue inside.

Repeating once. Twice. Thrice. So many times that you’ve lost count, and you’re barely in control of your own ministrations as a third hand stuffs between your pussylips and squeezes your neglected clit.

And then your overstimulation’s hitting you all at once. All at once.

And Sukuna realizes it before you do- when you’re shivering primally on top of him and cumming once more. Around his cocks. Around his mouth. It’s such a white-hot pleasure that bursts stars behind your eyelids, creating heat at the tips of your toes and then sending it searing through every vessel within you-  your body shakes in his hold as the dopamine courses right through you. 

His lips crack into a chuckle, and he’s cooing softly down at you as he ruts his hips even harder—fucking you through every peak. “Theeeeeere, there…” Something almost sweet- though you know better than to expect sweet from Ryomen Sukuna. “My poor human couldn’t handle it?”

“I-I can…” You’re arguing back- even though your answer sounds like nothing but a jumbled mess of syllables. The sheer force of the high that wracks through you is enough to make your head spin, thighs shake—fucked up, up, and up by his never-ending hips. 

And he can only smile, “Is that so…? Then perhaps my fierce concubine won’t mind if I just—speed up a little bit.”

Even more?

Your mouth drops as you’re perhaps getting ready to beg for mercy- before even the choked-up syllables at your throat start getting fucked back down by his roverin’ tips.

Rubbing their flared ridges across every spot of your insides, dribblin’ out gooey precum into the smallest nooks and crannies. You’re feeling the sultry slickness of it puddling up deep inside you, and it’s almost enough to send you raging right into another high-

“K-Kuna—!” Your voice cracks.

“I know, heh.” He snickers, deep and hoarse. “I can feel this pussy begging even more f’me.” A few more vicious strokes and you’re feeling another faint arc of pleasure that you’re sure must be your nth high of the night. 

Hard and fast.

Hitting through every one of your bundled nerves- but especially that g-spot he’d bruised by now. Two large circular marks in the exact shape and circumference of his bludgeoning tips - they were slapping at two separate times—one after the other. Ba-dump! Ba-dump! 

Except…this time, Sukuna’s own thickened cocks twitch inside of you as you’re clenchin’ through your high-

“And don’t you worry, brat…” He growls from behind, “This time, your husband’s not too far behind—”

Your eyes flutter open in pure shock- and one of his hands reaches down to tilt your chin to look at him. “Shit-”

“Say it f’me.” Sukuna rasps, “Say it- call me your husband while I cum inside.”

And who were you to deny an order from the King himself? 

The words are barely escaping your lips—“C-cum inside me, husband…”

Before the strongest sorcerer in history throws his head back and jerks his hips upwards- letting the pouring wads of his cum plug your pussy up twofold. What’s better than one of his cocks seeping deeply at your innards? Two of them…There are so many gooey wads of it trickling all deeeeep inside- splashin’ against the spongy layer of your cervix. Swashing down your tight channel.

You’re shuddering as you feel the delicious sensation of him sprayin’ inside you - a sheer volume that ends up frothin’ in-between your legs. A circle of white forms around both of Sukuna’s thick bases. “There we go-” He snarls. “There- there, we go…”

“Shit—it feels so, ngh…” You don’t even have the words. Your body quakes as his ridged tastebuds start tickling the outer parts of your pussy. Long, luscious licks - it’s enough to make you cum again.

“And this baby shall become my heir.” Sukuna whispers - mostly to himself than anything. He runs a hand down the sweat front of your body, left ever-so-slightly more inflated with his constantly-pumping cum. “This baby shall be taught to become the strongest. This baby shall be- hah, feared amongst the nation’s lands and beyond…” His fanged smile grows, “Known by my name, I shall teach this baby to protect its mother with their life.”

The fatness of his tongue dips between your swollen pussylips- lapping again and again. He’s torn between drinkin’ up and pushing back the pearly white beads of cum that kept on leaking from you.

And you’re merely draped limply over his front. Crushed to his powerful body. 

“And this baby’s gonna become the most precious thing in this- hah, estate…” You feel him press a kiss to your temple, “-alongside you, of course, Your Majesty.”

“Majesty…?”

“The Queen of Curses.”

For who could’ve tamed the infamous Ryomen Sukuna?

In no time, he’s finally fucked himself into your pussy through his high- and it’s a tangled mess of limbs and moans as Sukuna attempts to pull out. Before realizing that his cocks were probed in too deeply, before realizing that that would mean letting his pool of cum spread out of your cunt.

Losing all his hard work.

And so he sniffs haughtily, reaching one pair of his hands up into the air and clicking-

In a split-second, you’re finding your back against the pillows. As if in a dream, you’re blinking up to stare into Sukuna’s handsome face—two hands braced upon either side of your head, both cocks still shovelled deeply inside of you. Throbbing. Did he just…did he just use his powers to change-

“Yes.” He answers your unspoken question- of perhaps it had been spoken, you’re too drunk on his cocks to realize whether or not you’d blabbered it out loud. “I call it…teleporting.” 

“Th-that should be outlawed-” You’re gasping. The air around you felt tightened with what you assumed must be his cursed energy - you’d heard the stories about them. Who didn’t?

And he merely hums, “I am the law, woman.”

Without another word, one of his four hands snake between your legs- his cursed second mouth had finished up lappin’ at the coat of cum around your thighs. And he licks his lips and belches almost gluttonously once Sukuna reaches down to cup your pussy and—

“O-oh.” Something buzzes between your overstimulated legs. 

Almost as soon as it’d started, it’s over- and Sukuna pulls his hand away—and then his rugged cocks. Letting out the most lecherous sluuuuurp! as he’s reeling his hips away, rounded tips funnel out from between your pussylips and leaving such a-

Wait…your eyes widen. There was no mess - whatever technique that Sukuna had collected between your legs stopped his cum from leaking out.

And the King of Curses wastes no time waiting for your surprise to register- not before letting out a deep snicker. He straightens his bulky body n’ edges himself closer—and before you know it, you’re suddenly finding your head straddled by Sukuna’s meaty thighs.

His dual, furiously-hot erections slapping their shafts down onto your readied face.

Both fanged mouths grin, “Now…open, human.”

And you just knew he was about to make you take both.

A/N. DJSFHSJKHS-

Plagiarism not authorized.

[easpology]

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Plug!Yuta ᴄᴀʀ ꜱᴇx, ᴅʀᴜɢ ᴅᴇᴀʟᴇʀ!ʏᴜᴛᴀ , ʀᴏᴜɢʜɴᴇꜱꜱ, Soft Dom Yuta, ᴏʀᴀʟ ꜱᴇx, ꜱᴇx ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴꜰʟᴜᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴄᴜʀꜱɪɴɢ, ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴅᴇɢʀᴀᴅᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

plug!yuta okkotsu x black fem! reader

not proof read!

word count: 2.3k

You add the finishing touches to your hair, carefully tucking one braid behind another and making duck lips at your reflection in the mirror before getting up from your vanity.

“Does my hair look good guys?” You ask, playing and teasing with your long braids. Your edges fluffy but carefully and slickly formed and swooped. “you know you cute i don’t even know why you asking” Your homegirl Nobara said. The other one off in her own world rushing to get ready.

“This my first time going to a party, bitch! I’m so embarrassed” You said, slipping off your pants to put on the mini skirt you laid out on your bed.

“Don’t be, you aren’t missing out.” Finally, another one of your homegirls spoke. “Speaking of that, the plug text back yet?” Maki said.

“Nah , his car broke. I just figured Inumaki might slide us a bud or two” I said, fixing my boobs in my bra. “Girl now you know he wasn’t going to do that” Maki cackled. Maki then opened her phone and went to her contacts. She scrolled until she seen a familiar number.

“Hey text this number, if he ask who sent you tell him I did. Tell him we need this shit before 10” She said, as she turned her body to face the mirror again.

“Why cant you just text him?” You asked, genuinely confused. “Because I’m still getting ready.”

You sighed and typed the number into your phone, sending the default message you always send to your plugs.”

8:52pm

“Yoo, You think I could cop a 7g?”

xxx-xxx-xxxx: Who this?

Maki homegirl, she sent me your number

xxx-xxx-xxxx: oh, yeah i got a 7g. when u need it?

In a few actually , can i pay extra?

xxx-xxx-xxxx: nah i gotchu, i just finished my last drop

xxx-xxx-xxxx: send addy

19511 cherry oak ave

xxx-xxx-xxxx: 45 mins

Bet

“He 45 minutes away guys” You said as you dropped your phone to your side. Not really pleased with that time. “See no, Itadori almost here” Nobara said, spraying perfume on and putting on lipgloss.

“So are you two a thing, or?” Maki asked, fixing her glasses and checking herself out on her phone. Nobara started giggling. “Noo, thats just my homie”

You smacked your lips, “Girl tighten up.” fake bucking at her. “You know thats your man thats why he coming to get you” You said. “We talking. How about that?” Nobara said with a fake attitude. “See thats better” You said, laughing.

“Nobara since you goin with your man to the party early let me ride with you” Maki asked. “y’all just gon’ leave me?” You asked, jokingly hurt. “Yuta finna take you, he coming anyways.” Maki said.

“Wait , Yuta is the plug?” Nobara stopped dead in her tracks. “WHEN HE START SELLING?!” She yelled, and started laughing. Rolling on the floor at this point. “GIRL, LAST YEAR!” maki yelled, joining in on the laughing.

There you are, lost and confused.

“Who is Yuta?” You asked. “I forgot this girl was new” Maki said fixing her glasses and laughing a little bit more. “He left school last year, we all used to be a crew.”

“I dont know who him and inumaki feelin’ like though” Nobara said, sitting up and out of breath. “playing with guns and drugs and some more shit”

“Thats none of our business though” Maki said, shrugging her shoulders and pulling out her phone.

“Itadori outside, you coming Maki?” Nobara said , standing up and fixing her clothes. “Yeah I’m coming”.

“See you in a few y/n!” They both simultaneously said, walking out the door.

9:48

YUTA: yo, im outside

YUTA: you doin cash or cashapp?

Cash

YUTA: ok you gotta come in the car

okay

im coming now

You quickly look at yourself in the mirror one more time before grabbing your purse off your bed and heading downstairs.

You open the door and see a black 2026 KIA SOUL GT-LINE parked on the other side of the street. You walk out and lock the door, making your way to the car.

You knock on the window of the passenger seat, hearing a click you open the door and sit in the car.

the car has grey leather seats, the smell is like a sweet vanilla scent mixed with weed. The car is clean , yet things are visible in the trunk, none of your business though. You just want your weed.

“it was $50 right?” You asked, voice a little shaky from the temperature of the car. “Yeah.” He said. His voice was light, calm , and measured. He didn’t sound like how you expected him to.

He reached in the glove compartment and pulled out a ziplock bag. He grabbed his scale from the side of the door and placed it on top of the glove compartment.

He then pulled out a small plastic bag and poured the weed into there and sat the bag on top of the scale.

7.14 grams

He fastly tied the bag with his fingers. You don’t take your eyes off his hands. The way they move, the way they look. His long slim fingers. the veins poking out on his hands, it’s like your body is attracted to them.

His voice breaks the air.

“Here you go.” He says, handing the small bag to you. You rushed to take the money out your purse. You hand him the money and take the bag.

“Thank you.” You said, turning your body to open the door. “yo” he says, taking the joint from behind his ear and picking up the lighter that was in the cup holder.

you pause. “uhm, yes?” You asked. “ I’m supposed to be taking you to that party” He said, lighting up the joint. “Oh shoot, I forgot. Yeah my bad.” You said , closing the door and fixing yourself. You grab the seatbelt and buckle it up.

“you wanna hit it?” He asked, rolling the window down and taking the car out of park. “oh shit, sure” you said, surprised. He began to reverse in your drive way to turn around. You still cant help but look at his hands. The way he turns the steering wheel with them, his veins sliding up to his forearms.

You took a long hit and held it in for a second before blowing it out. a little cough being let out. you passed the joint to him. He placed it in his mouth before grabbing his phone to play music. He took the joint out and blew the smoke out, the window allowing the air from outside to soak it all up.

You look down, you see something in his pants. A gun. You don’t freak out though. Youre used to it, being around Inumaki and Itadori.

“How old are you?” He asked , cutting the awkwardness. “18” You said, grabbing the joint from him. “You?” you asked. “19” he said flatly.

From there it was silence from you two. just the music playing lowly in the back, the sound of the wind blowing due to the car speeding. You passed the joint back to Yuta.

He took the joint from you, eyes focused on the road still. You reached in your purse and took your lip gloss out, carefully applying the mango scented gloss on your lips. you then get a facetime from Maki.

You answered, no hesitation. “Girl, where you at? you got the weed?” She asked, bombing you with questions. “Yeah i got it, im with Yuta.” you said, glancing over at him. His attention shifted to your phone then back on the road, then back to your phone, then back on the road again. “Who is that? thats Maki?” He asked, a smug grin creeping up on his lips. “Yeah” You said, unsure. “Let me see real quick” He grabbed your phone and put the camera on his face while still paying attention to the road.

“Maki is todo there?” He asked, keeping his eyes on the road. “Uhhh, yeah he is.” She said, after spotting him in the crowd. “Okay thanks, and thank you.” He said, a tiny smirk creeping in his face. “Uh for what?” she said confused. “Introducing me to your friend. Might have to take a few extra minutes, she looks too good.” He said, side eyeing you while he held the phone up to his mouth.

“Bruh stop playing she got the weed” Maki said plainly into the camera. All the smiles and the laughter she had was gone, she was dead serious. “Im just playing, calm down. fein.” He said, passing your phone back to you. Still taken back by the comment he made, you fixed your face and went back to talking to maki.

……..

“We here” Yuta said, pulling back the gear stick to park. He adjusted his seat and looked at you. “I wasn’t lying when I said you look good. Ima find you at this party later.” He said , maintaining eye contact. Your lips gapped but nothing came out. you swallowed, mouth dry nodding your head. “Okay.” You started saying. “Thank you.”

“no problem.”

The party was amazing. The songs were chefs kiss, the vibe, the people, the food, you loved it. For it being your first party, this was one you were definitely going to remember.

You were in a corner with Inumaki, Itadori, Maki, Nobara, and megumi. You and megumi were never close, you only knew him as makis cousin and he knew you as Makis friend. what took you by surprise though, was when he took the blunt from itadori. You never knew he smoked, not did it ever occur to you to assumed that, you assumed the opposite actually.

You scanned the room to see any more familiar faces from your academy. On accident of course, you she spot Yuta and Todo talking to each other. Yuta clutching on his pants for OBVIOUS reasons. You guess he must have spotted you because he soon started making his way over shortly after wrapping his conversation with Todo up.

The others must’ve noticed because inumaki started calling out to him. You straightened your posture and sat up from leaning on the wall. “Yall look high as hell” Yuta said, his soft voice echoing in your ear. His voice was so amazing you shut out every noise in the party to focus on his. His gaze shifted to you, your eyes red and low. “You okay?” He asked, walking over slowly to you. He looked at you for a second and chuckled. “yeah yall off my shit.”

He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and stared for a second. “What time yall goin’ home?” He asked, curious. “Late , probably around 2 or 3” Maki said. “Oh okay great, I gotta go make a drop real quick in the next town” He said, “but” he then looked at you. “She finna come with me” He smiled. “Ya’ll okay with that?” You asked.

Maki and Nobara looked at each other. “No just dont keep her out too long” Maki said, a smirk on her face. “She safe with me” Yuta said. Inumaki chuckled.

You guys made your way to his car, he followed behind you, his presence feeling heavy. You got in his car and put your seatbelt on. You guys didn’t move for 2 minutes. it was quiet.

You took off your seatbelt. You swore the weed took over you.

You grabbed his face and kissed him. He wasnt shocked, it’s like he wanted this. He reclined his seat back, pushing the steering wheel up allowing you to get on top of him completely.

His hands ran up your back, to the back of your neck, gripping it firmly. He pulls your head back , burying his face into your neck. “mmh..” You let out a soft moan.

Yuta slaps your ass, tongue still dancing on your neck. He leans back, looking at you, and your pretty face. He knows the things he could do to you. He reclines the seat all the way back and hooks his finger around your underwear.

“take em off” He instructs. You take off your panties, tossing them on the passengers seat. “get on my face” He said, calm and firm. you crawled on his body until you got to his face, lifting yourself up and planting your pussy directly on his mouth. His eyes were still visible and they looked low and hungry.

He began slow yet hard licks toward your clit. making circle gestures. “Mmh yuta..” You moaned. a little vocal this time. He was so good at this. His tongue glided over your pussy skillfully. His tongue prodding at your entrance every now and then making your body jolt.

You rode his face, you needed more than just his tongue but the way he already had you shaking just from a few kitty licks was crazy.

His hand reached up to grab at your thighs, moving your body back and forth on his face. “Yu—a-ahh fuck!.” you threw your head back. Grabbing a fist full of his hair, your mouth wide open. Nothing but chocked gasps and cries leave your lips. He continues gnawing at your pussy. Making sure to leave no corner untouched. Sucking at your clit, flickering his tongue, eating it like he was making out with your pussy. You were so wet, your juice mixed with his spit sliding down your brown thighs and his pale face.

He stopped his actions. nothing but his and yours heavy breathing filled the air. “I wanna try something.” Voice so still, calm, and assertive. “Get in the back f’me”

You moved to the back, it didnt take a lot of movement. Yuta reclined his seat up and got out the car. He closed the door and opened the back seat door. He sat inside closing the door and taking in a deep breath.

He turned to look at you, soaking in your features. Your full freshly waxed eyebrows, your eyes, the way the light reflected off of them. Your lips, full and two toned, lip gloss making them shine. He took in a sharp breath.

“C’mere pretty.”

He grabbed your neck, not rough, just enough to pull you closer. His lips were soft, he was in control. Your body responded to everything he did, you melted in his hands. “Finna fuck you up.” He wanted to show you what he had to offer.

and you were going to take it.

“Maki hid me from something so precious, they all did.” He said, his hand caressing your face. Looking down. He met your eyes, yours were low , red, seductive. He loved that so much. He licked his lips, feeling his dick get hard by the sight of you. All flushed and roughed up.

You felt so weak, you were under a spell, you had to be, or maybe it was the weed. Who knows? You kissed him again, getting on top of him, resting your bare pussy on his clothed dick. He rubbed his hand up and down your waist.

“aht, turn over”He said, lifting you up of him with little effort. He moved so you could fully get comfortable and on your stomach, arching your back a little bit. You heard him shuffling with his pants, pulling them and his boxers down just enough to release his dick.

He grabbed one of your ass cheeks and spread it, making your cunt visible. “So pretty, everything about you so pretty.” He looked at your pussy. studying it in fact, how its dripping wet, glistening in the dim light, hes falling in love.

Yuta was so impatient. He grabbed at his dick, precum leaking out. He slid it in between your folds before he stuck the tip in. You already feeling the burn feeling from the stretch. He pushed in, his eyes rolling back the more he slides in.

Your pussy was so wet and warm. He grabbed your hip, thrusting into you, pushing your back down and digging your shit. “F-FUCK! P-ple—please yuta!” You were taking your hand and trying to push him back. He grabbed your arm, holding it down and your back, using that as a leverage to continue his brutal thrusts.

“shit so fuckin’ wet. Finna make you my baby.” He was sweating. Yuta knew he didnt really want a relationship, but having a pretty girl like you , waking up to you every day, spending money on you, you sittin all pretty in his car while he make his drops, fucking you senseless, you desired that. He was going to get that.

“Fuck this something I need everyday.” He was so hungry, Jamming into you, your ass and his pelvis colliding making the nastiest noises. “You want me to spoil you baby? Fuck you like this, make you feel all special?” He really wanted to keep you like this forever.

“Mmh— you feel so good Yu” you were in a daze, so fucked out. you wanted him to make you all his. “Fuck! im finna nut.”. He started gettin more rough, going deeper.

“A-ahh—N-no! I ca-cant take it yuta please!” You clawed at anything you could. Your position stopping you from running. “Take this shit, oouu—fuck” He was moaning all in your pussy. Like he belonged there. He quickly pulled out, jerking his dick off until he released all over your ass.

“f-fuck, mmhh” His body shakes as the last bit of cum shoots out from his tip. he stood on his knees, head thrown back. deep breaths from the both of you fogging up the car. He smacked your ass and grabbed it, shaking it a bit.

“You mine baby.”

should i do a part 2?👀

[bladebarbie]

𝘣𝘴𝘧.ᐟ𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘣𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮

You’re both on your couch, music playing low. Connie’s got his legs sprawled out, grinder in one hand, papers in the other, not taking your argument seriously at all. You’re mid-rant, pointing at him with your perfectly manicured hand.

“You don’t make no typa sense like, that’s literally small dick mentality,” you say, swatting your hand at him.

Connie pauses for half a beat then lets out a smooth, lazy laugh, the kind that vibrates a little in his chest. He doesn’t even look up from the paper he’s filling “Yeah?” he says, real casual, like you just told him the sky is blue. It’s the chill in his voice that gets you. Like he’s not even thinking about it, clearly unbothered. And you hate that your stomach does a little flip.

His calmness throws you off way harder than any comeback would’ve and lowkey intrigues you. You shift on the couch “Yeah” you doubled down.

“Mmh.” He starts rolling again, thumbs moving slow and practiced “Aight, man”

“So you don’t care?” He glances up with that half-lidded stare, amused “Why would I care?”

You scoff, but you’re just trying to push him further “I mean… unless you’re saying you got a big dick…” Connie just smiles slow, almost disrespectfully calm and sits back deeper into your couch like he’s settling in for a movie “That what you think I’m sayin’?” he asks.

You shift in your seat, getting a bit too excited “that’s what you insinuating though”

He rolls the joint between his fingers, eyes dropping to it, then back to you “I ain’t insinuating nothin’,” he murmurs, shrugging slightly “You the one bringin’ it up”

“I wasn’t–”

“You were,” he cuts in “and you probably getting wet just thinkin about it” he remarks, enjoying how your mouth opened in shock.

He finishes rolling, licks the edge slow just doing what he always does but your brain short-circuits anyway. He catches the way you staring at his lap like you got x-ray vision to see what he got going on in his drawls “If you wanna know so bad you can always come check for yourself” he teases with a grin, sinking into the couch, spreading his legs further like an invitation “I ain’t the type to gatekeep”

You stood up, knowing that he was a master bullshitter and confidently walked over, plopping down next to him "Still got time to back out, Con-rad” you teased, sure that he would drop the act but Connie just lit his blunt, logged it between his lips and reached down to undo his belt and unbutton his jeans "Handle the rest yeah" he said, exhaling the smoke down your neck. Fuck, he’s deadass right now, you internally panicked "Or you too pussy ?" he chuckled when you just sat there doing nothing.

You furrowed your eyebrows, hating that cocky tone of his cuz who did he take you for? In one swift move you grabbed the hem of his Calvins and his jeans and pulled them down. You tried to keep a neutral expression but fuck, why was his dick so big and...pretty. Trimmed nicely, pink tip, veiny and thick, you were both annoyed that he had a reason to be so fucking cocky but glad that you got to see it for yourself "Happy now?"

You could’ve stopped there, he clearly had a reason to have such a big mouth even on soft, right? Still, you just had to see it though.

You looked up at him while slowly sliding yourself down between his legs, earning an eyebrow raise from him paired with a grin of course "not yet" you mumbled, holding onto his base tightly, and bringing his tip to your lips.

Shit, you could barely wrap your hand around it, your finger tips weren’t even touching, but you were in too deep “Holy-” he breathes out when your tongue twirls around his tip, poking at his hole making his abs flex, taking in the salty taste of his pre cum “Hmm-stop playin’” he groaned, watching as you cruelly licked up and down his hardened cock, so fucking slow, tongue tracing every vein before bobbing your head down, half his cock suddenly in the warm confines of your wet mouth.

He threw his head back, letting out a breathy chuckle “fuck..you’re trynna kill me” his hand gently nestled the back of your head, not exercising any pressure but just resting there, occasionally helping you set the pace “you gotta go all~ the way down, pretty” he smirked, carefully pushing your head down “can’t take it?” he added when your eyes started watering from how deep he was down your throat, your nails digging into his thighs.

He watched as you gagged on his fat cock, enjoying the way your throat closed around it before finally letting go of your head, leaving his cock glistening with your saliva and you trying to catch your breath “yeah, that’s what I thought” he blew out some smoke in your face while he began pulling up his underwear, having proven his point enough.

“Yeah whatever, you probs don’t even know what to do with all that” you said, voice raspy while wiping your mouth. Connie almost couldn’t believe it, you were still running your mouth? “Ha..there’s really only one way to shut your ass up huh?” You hadn’t seen him laugh this hard before, but next thing you knew, he had you bent over the arm of the couch.

Your panties were slipped to the side, your shorts dangling off one foot, the other planted weakly on the carpet as Connie gripped your waist from behind and dragged your body back onto his dick. He was already in so deep, dragging through your pussy with zero care for how sensitive you were or how long it had been. His pace wasn't steady or controlled. It was aggressive in that slow, cruel way that made your thighs burn from trying to hold yourself up while his hips slammed into you again and again. You were wet the moment you licked up his cock, soaked by the time he slid in, and he felt every inch of it. Every twitch and desperate clench around him

“Hmm..fuck–still think I can’t work it ?” He groaned, his hand slipped up the curve of your back, pushing your spine into a deeper arch. You were gasping already, cheek pressed to the armrest, fingers clawing at the fabric as you struggled to keep yourself grounded while he kept fucking you like he had a point to prove, which he did “Fucking…look at you”

"You can just ask if you want some dick" he muttered, breath warm against your shoulder as he bent over you, his voice dark and sharp and too calm to match the way his body moved "don’t gotta do all that extra shit”

You tried to respond, but the only thing that came out was a sob, caught in your throat because the angle he had you in was so deep it felt like he was splitting you open from the inside. Your walls fluttered violently around him, and the sound it made when he bottomed out again had you clenching your teeth just to keep from crying out loud.

His fingers dug into your hips, dragging you back again so he could thrust harder. You couldn't think straight. Every word you wanted to say got swallowed by the ache blooming in your gut and the sharp, constant pressure of his cock bruising up your sweet spot.

“Yo mouth so foul but your pussy is real obedient” Connie leaned back again, just enough to look down at where you were connected, your pussy glistening, stretched around him, juices dripping down his thighs. He hissed under his breath, then brought a hand down hard on your ass, making you jerk forward “nah, dont start runnin now”

You shook your head, eyes blurry "I'm not–fuck, I'm not," you cried out, voice breaking on the last word as he hit that same spot again and again, relentless now.

He reached down and pressed two fingers against your clit, rubbing firm, messy circles in time with his strokes. The sudden overload of pressure made you lurch forward, your whole body seizing up as the pleasure hit you hard and fast. You tried to pull away from his hand, overstimulated, but he grabbed the back of your neck and held you down “you sound so cute when you’re not trynna be smart, ma”

“Ha–shit!”Connie slammed in one last time, deep enough to punch the air out of your lungs, then groaned loud as his grip on your hips tightened. You could feel him twitching inside you, thick ropes spilling deep as he cursed under his breath. Your orgasm hit you harder than ever before. Your whole body was locking up, legs numb, vision blurred, sobs caught in your throat as you came hard around him, walls squeezing tight like your pussy didn't want to let go. Your moans turned breathless, wordless, your mouth opening and closing as your body twitched through it.

It took a minute before either of you could move, then finally he broke the silence “that good enough for you?” You could just sense that stupid grin in his face even with your eyes shut.

[radioactivepussy]

i love being a brat bc what the fuck are you gonna do about it? give me exactly what i want??? fool.

[otakufilms]

‧₊˚﹒♡﹗₊˚⊹❀𝓸𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓯𝓲𝓵𝓶𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓰…‧₊˚﹒♡﹗₊˚⊹❀

soldier. onyankopon.

𓊆ྀི warnings .ᐟ + word count— 9.3K, original!blackfemreader, boyfriend!onyankopon, plug!onyankopon, fresh out the pen!onyankopon, southerncoded!onyankopon, femreader, shy!femreader, giggly!femreader, aggressive!onyankopon, sweet!onyankopon, dominant!onyankopon, car sex, doggy style, missionary, pet names, dirty talk, aggressive pet names, squirting, creaming, condomless sex, pussy eating, dick sucking, overstimulation, minors are not welcome! 𓊇ྀི

メモ。— inspired by the destiny’s child song. i just live for a wattpad hood love story, so here’s mine. love y’all.

YOU HADN’T BEEN THIS NERVOUS IN A WHILE. You wanted to gnaw at your heart shaped pendant sunken between heavy tits, deep plum gloss outlining your full lips that you’d chewed to a swell just minutes before. This moment didn’t feel real—and yet, it was. He was coming home.

Thick Louisiana heat presses against your skin like a lover’s embrace, sprawled across the king sized bed in the heart of the 7th Ward—a place where shotgun houses and Creole cottages line the streets like old friends. The walls of your shared home hum with memories, the scent of cayenne and slow cooked roux lingering in the air from last night’s gumbo. The bedroom is a sanctuary—mahogany furniture polished to a shine, silk sheets the color of midnight draped over the mattress, and gold framed photos of y’all’s happiest moments catching the dim glow of the sunset through half closed blinds. 

But something’s missing.  

You bury your face into his pillow, inhaling deeply—or trying to. His scent, that intoxicating mix of sandalwood and blunt smoke, has faded to a ghost of what it once was. Three months without him sleeping beside you, without his deep voice grumbling nonsense in your ear as he pulls you closer. The emptiness is heavy. 

Your massive pitbull, Bear, stretches across the bed like a living shadow, his muscular frame pressed against your thigh as if sensing your longing. 

You run your fingers through his coarse fur, murmuring, “You ready for Papa to come home?” 

Bear’s ears twitch at the mention of him, dark eyes flickering with something like understanding. Even the house feels quieter without his presence—no bass rattling the windows, no deep laugh shaking the walls, no rough hands tugging you into his lap just because.  

Onyankopon. 

Deep brown skin kissed by the Louisiana sun, glowing like polished syrup under the streetlights. His cornrows are always fresh, laid to perfection, trailing down to the nape of his neck with a crisp lineup sharp enough to cut glass. That mouth of his—shiny grills flashing when he smirks, a warning disguised as charm. His beard-goatee combo is always kept tight, framing full lips that can curse a man into the ground or praise you so sweetly it makes your knees weak.  

And his body. Lord. Broad shoulders, thick arms wrapped in ink—every tattoo telling a story. The fleur-de-lis stamped near his left temple, a silent declaration of loyalty to the soil that raised him. More Louisiana love etched into his skin— oak trees, 504 in bold script. His knuckles say NO LOVE, but you know better—know the way those same hands cradle your face like you’re the air he breathes.  

You’ve seen him in business mode. Jaw clenched, voice dropping to something low and lethal, a Glock tucked in the back of his waistband like a second shadow. He didn’t play—not when it came to money, not when it came to respect.

But you know the truth.  

That same man who’ll put a bullet in somebody’s kneecaps over disrespect is the one slipping Mrs.LeBlanc a stack of bills every month so her lights stay on—the one who refuses to sell to fiends nodding out on the corner. The one who bought the whole block Thanksgiving turkeys last year just because.  

A good man with rough edges. Yours.

Your heart aches with the knowing—the kind that lives in the quiet spaces between his laughter and the way his eyes get distant sometimes, staring out at the horizon like he’s searching for something just out of reach.  

You’ve seen the flicker in his gaze when y’all pass a college campus, when he watches old men playing chess in the park with no worries weighing them down. You know he dreams of something else—legitimate money, a life where he doesn’t have to look over his shoulder every five seconds. But survival mode is a beast he can’t shake, not when the streets raised him harsher than any parent ever did.  

Your mind flashes back to that night—the night. 

The way his face twisted in fury as the cops swarmed, their boots kicking up gravel as they yanked his arms behind his back too rough, too eager. You remember screaming his name, lunging forward only for his voice to cut through the chaos like a blade—Go back in the fuckin’ house!—and the way your legs shook as you obeyed, tears blurring your vision until all you saw were flashing red and blue lights swallowing him whole.  

Three months.  

Three months of letters tucked into envelopes smelling like your perfume, of collect calls where his voice was gruff but his words were soft—“How you holdin’ up, baby?" 

Three months of praying the charges wouldn’t stick, of begging your parents to understand why you couldn’t—wouldn’t—walk away.  

You think God would approve of this, child? Running with a man who feeds poison to his own people? 

Their words stung, but not as much as the truth burning in your chest—you loved him anyway. Loved him when he came home smelling like gunpowder and regret, loved him when he held you so tight it felt like an apology.  

But still, there’s a part of you that dreams too—of lazy Sunday mornings without fear, of a future where his hands are stained with paint instead of blood. A future where he chooses differently.  

You sigh, pressing your face into Bear’s fur as if he can absorb the weight of your thoughts.  

Soon.

Your dark curls lay across the pillow like spilled ink as you sink deeper into Bear’s warmth, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest beneath your fingertips lulling you into a false sense of calm.  

Then—movement. 

Bear tenses beneath you, his massive body going rigid before he suddenly hikes up with a deep, rumbling growl—not the dangerous kind, but the kind that vibrates with recognition. In an instant, he’s off the bed, paws thudding against hardwood as he bolts toward the living room.  

Then—the creak of the front door. 

You left it unlocked. You knew.  

Before you can even sit up fully, you hear Bear’s excited whines, the frantic scratch of his claws against the floor as he launches himself at someone—at him. Your pulse thunders in your ears as you swing your legs over the edge of the bed, bare feet hitting the floor before you even realize you’re moving.  

And there he is. 

Standing in the doorway like a storm, shoulders bigger than you remember, muscles straining against the thin fabric of his white muscle tee like he outgrew it in just three months. His sweatpants hang low on his hips, the same pair he’d left in before they took him, but now they cling to thighs that look harder, more defined.  

His cornrows are freshly done, edges sharp enough to draw blood, that damn fleur-de-lis tattoo peeking out from beneath the slant of his brow. But it’s his eyes that grip you—dark, calculating, hungry—as they rake over you like he’s memorizing every inch.  

“The fuck you leave the door unlocked for?” 

Your lips part—but the second his voice hits you, really hits you, something inside cracks wide open.  

“…I—I knew it was you,” you whimper, voice trembling like a leaf in the wind. 

Onyankopon knows you.

‘Knows the way your bottom lip trembles right before the tears fall. ‘Knows how your voice gets small and shaky when you’re trying—and failing—to hold it together. ‘Knows that no matter how spicy your mouth gets, that tender heart of yours spills over first.  

And right now?  

His dark eyes drink you in all of you.  

Your caramel skin glows under the dim lights, bare except for the tiniest rebellion inked along your ribs—his name, etched in delicate script, hidden beneath the swell of your tits like a secret only he’s allowed to touch.  

Those freckles—god, those freckles—dusting your cheeks and the bridge of your nose like constellations. Your round face flushed, slender eyes shimmering with tears, long dark curls tumbling wildly over your shoulders as you try to hide the way your body shakes.  

Hips fuller, ass heavier, waist somehow even smaller than he remembered, all wrapped up in that deep plum babydoll dress that barely covers your thighs. His gaze drags lower—no bra, just the thin lace of your panties peeking beneath the hem, your brown nipples stiff and visible through the fabric.  

And then—  

“You left me.” 

Your tits bounce heavily as you hiccup, hands flying up to cover your face in that adorably flustered way you do when you’re overwhelmed. 

“Aight, Mama—lemme’ hold you," he murmurs, voice thick with that gravelly warmth that usually melts you right where you stand. But not today.  

You shake your head hard, curls whipping against your cheeks, suddenly furious—at him, at the streets, at the damn system that keeps snatching him away from you. 

“No," you snap, voice wobbling despite yourself.  

This is your routine.  

The one where you unleash every pent up ache—where you sob about how Mrs. LeBlanc asked about him at the store last Tuesday, how you burned the first pot of gumbo because he wasn’t there to taste test it, how Bear whined at the door every night for a week after they took him.  

“You missed—you missed everything—"

Onyankopon exhales through his nose, patience wearing thin. He reaches for you again, fingers brushing your waist, but you smack his hand away—or try to. Your tiny slap barely fazes him, and the way his jaw tightens tells you his sympathy’s run out.  

One large hand fists into the back of your dress, yanking you against him so hard your breath whooshes out of you. His other arm bands around your waist, locking you in place as your tits press flush against his chest.  

“Ony—!" 

“Nah," he growls, “You done?" 

And just like that—you crack. 

Your fingers claw into his shirt as you bury your face into his neck, inhaling that familiar scent—jailhouse soap, and him. A choked sob escapes you as he grunts, adjusting his grip to cradle you tighter.  

“Yeah," he mutters, lips brushing your temple—“That’s what I thought.”

His nose drags along the curve of your neck—inhaling deep—like he’s trying to drown himself in you. Vanilla. Spiced cinnamon. Caramel. Your scent clings to his senses, and a rough groan vibrates against your skin before he cups your face in his big, calloused hands.  

Then—his mouth crashes into yours.  

Not soft. Not sweet.  

Claiming.

His tongue strokes against yours, hot and demanding, before he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth—sharp, just how you like it. The sound of his grunts fills the space between kisses—“Goddamn, you smell so good—” his palm smacks against your ass with a sharp CLAP!, making the flesh quiver beneath his grip as he kneads it possessively.  

“Why you doin’ allat’, huh?” His voice is gruff but softer now, forehead pressed to yours—“A nigga was gon’ find his way back to you.”

“Your lawyer said…” your voice cracks, fingers tightening in his shirt—“‘Said they coulda’ gave you more time…”

His jaw ticks—once, twice—before he exhales hard through his nose.  

“Look at me.” 

When you do, his eyes burn with something fierce.  

“Ain’t no cage gon’ keep me from you.” 

And just like that—his mouth is on yours again, swallowing your whimpers, his grip tightening like he’s determined to erase every second of those three months apart.

Your whimper melts into something hotter, needier—tongue sliding bold and filthy against his, dragging slowly before plunging back in, tasting the mint on his breath mixed with something darker, smokier. Onyankopon growls against your lips, tongue stroking yours with a rhythm that makes your thighs clench.  

“Greedy ass," he rumbles, voice thick with amusement—"Threw that lil’ tongue at me like you ain’t just been cryin’." 

“‘Want you, Papa…" you pant this, rocking your hips against the hard ridge of him, shameless.  

His hands tighten on your face—rough but reverent—as he pulls back just enough to lock eyes with you, his gaze burning through you. 

“Three months, baby. Three months ‘I been dreamin’ ‘bout my pussy," he grits out—“But nah, we gon’ do this right." 

Your brows knit—confused, frustrated—until his thumb swipes over your bottom lip, smug as hell.  

“A nigga got a whole garden in the Hummer for you," he admits lowly, "Tulips, roses, shit you like—whole backseat covered."

That freckled smile of yours spreads slowly across your face, until you realize something. 

“Wait—you got your car back?"

His smirk doesn’t falter, but something shifts behind his gaze—hooded, calculated. 

“Handled it." 

You blink once. Twice. Then deadpan, “I won’t even ask." 

“You already knowin’," he chuckles, swiping his thumb over your bottom lip one last time like he’s erasing the question altogether.  

“Go ‘head, start gettin’ yo’self pretty. Imma’ run some plays by these niggas, handle some business ‘fore we head out."

Your stomach knots. Already? 

Three months gone, and the streets demand his presence before the sheets even lose your warmth. You bite your protest back regardless, swallowing it down with a soft “Okay," that barely fills the space between you.  

Onyankopon studies you for half a breath—like he sees it, the tension in your jaw—before gruffly adding, “Aight? I’m happy to be home." 

And just like that he’s turning away, crouching to ruffle Bear’s ears as the dog practically vibrates with joy. You watch them—the way his tattooed hands roughhouse with the beast who missed him just as much as you did—and exhale.  

“Yeah," you murmur, touching the heart pendant at your throat. 

“…Me too."

The afternoon light slants through sheer curtains as the scene shifts to another familiar rhythm—Onyankopon planted on the bedroom bench like a king holding court. His muscular thighs spread wide, fresh out of the shower but already dressed in that effortless urban elegance—crisp black tee straining across his chest, black Amiri cargos, icy AP watch glinting at his wrist. Cuban links drip down his neck as he barks into his phone, voice sandpaper rough—“Nah, that product ‘move different now. ‘Tell them lil’ niggas to tighten up or get got." 

Meanwhile, you exist in your own world mere feet away—naked as the day you were born, lost in the ritual of getting ready.  

Your reflection in the vanity mirror is sinful—that waist cutting in like an hourglass before flaring out into heavy hips and that ass he can’t stop smacking. Oversized tits sway as you lean forward to dab blush over freckled cheeks, brown nipples stiff from the breeze drifting through the window. Between your thighs—pretty pink folds glistening with arousal, still tender from the thought of him earlier. 

You’re so engrossed in blending highlighter along your collarbones that you don’t notice his approach—until thick fingers suddenly part you from behind.  

“Papa—!” 

Your giggle bubbles up as his calloused thumb swipes through slick heat, inspecting you with a low hum of approval.  

"Fuck you laughin’ for?" he grunts, still half distracted by his phone conversation—“‘Just checkin’ my property."  

The juxtaposition is ridiculous—him murmuring “Two keys max,” into the receiver while his other hand teases your clit—until you slap his wrist away, cheeks burning.  

"Stop it!” 

“‘You the one bent over lookin’ like dessert." 

Sigh. Business and pleasure, always intertwined.

Now fully dressed, you feel every bit the masterpiece you’ve crafted—your curls styled in a voluminous flip over cascading like spilled ink down your back. Dark, feathery lashes make your almond shaped eyes look bigger, doe like, while deep brown lips—blended with a hint of plum—give your mouth a sultry, kissable pout.  

The outfit is pure temptation—tall, strappy heels that add inches to your shorter frame, black capris clinging to every curve of your full hips and round ass like they were painted on. The lace trimmed camisole is sinful, its sweetheart neckline framing the swell of your breasts, the sheer fabric teasing glimpses of skin beneath. Your small Coach purse twinkles with playful keychains dangling from it, a hint of softness against the fierce femininity of your look.  

You do a slow, deliberate spin for him—hips swaying, lashes fluttering—before rolling your eyes dramatically when he barely glances up, his big hand absently rubbing the side of your hip as he continues growling into the phone, “Nah, lil’ bruh, that’s not how we move.” 

Frustration flickers.  

With a huff, you drop onto his lap without warning, your weight forcing his thighs to adjust beneath you. His free arm instinctively wraps around your waist as you play with the coarse strands of his beard, your fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw while he keeps talking.  

You murmur against his ear, “I got all pretty for you, y’know.” 

 “Aight, Imma’ see you in twenty.”

You blink. 

“Twenty minutes? Where?" 

“Across the Westbank," he replies smoothly, fingers trailing up the curve of your thigh where the capris hug tightest—“‘Told you I had business to handle." 

Your arms cross over your chest,  “This was supposed to be our time." 

“Youn’ think I know that? I got shit to do." 

“Yeah, ‘cause a drug dealer has way less free time than the average working man."

The words hang in the air—sharp, but edged with truth. His brows lift, a silent challenge, and you bite your lip before melting back against him with a soft “Sorry…” 

Your voice dropped to a whisper, “I just want you to myself today."

Onyankopon exhales through his nose, the tension in his shoulders loosening as his hands slide up your back. 

“You got me," he murmurs, lips brushing the slope of your bare shoulder. 

“But I got a whole neighborhood to take care of—including buyin’ everythin’ yo’ greedy lil’ ass wanna see under the sun." 

His mouth trails up your neck, each kiss a quiet apology, a silent promise. You sigh, tilting your head to give him more access, your resolve crumbling beneath his touch.  

“Fine," you concede, “But hurry, please?” 

“Ain’t gon’ be long enough for you to miss me." 

And just like that, he had you under his spell.

The first time you rode shotgun on one of his business runs, your pulse had thrummed with something illicit—the thrill of danger, the heat of rebellion licking at your skin like a forbidden flame. Back then, watching him command respect with just the tilt of his chin felt electric, his dominance a live wire beneath your fingertips.  

Now?  

Now you slump in the passenger seat of his freshly detailed Hummer, fingers drumming against the leather as you stare determinedly out the window. His employees—lean, hungry looking young men with eyes too old for their faces—nod at you with careful respect, like you’re some kind of queen they’re afraid to glance at too long. You offer weak smiles in return, teeth digging into your plum stained bottom lip.  

Onyankopon moves like a storm—methodical, unhurried—handing off product wrapped in crisp bills, exchanging terse words with buyers who swear they can handle weight they clearly can’t. Every so often his palm lands heavy on your thigh—reassuring, possessive—but your skin feels too tight today.  

Your gaze flicks to the Glock tucked between his seat and the console, the .45 holstered at his ankle, the AR barely hidden beneath the flower blankets in the back. The arsenal used to make you feel safe. Now it just makes your stomach twist.  

“Can we go?" 

He pauses mid sentence, dark eyes cutting to you—reading the tension in your jaw, the way your fingers twist the rings on your hands.  

“Five minutes," he grunts. 

Onyankopon’s jaw ticks as he leans out the driver’s side window, his deep voice dropping to a lethal calm—  

“Nigga, you movin’ like you want problems.” 

The young boy couldn’t be older than nineteen—puffs his chest out, fingers twitching near his waistband like he’s itching to prove something. 

“I ain’t scared—” 

“That’s yo’ first fuckin’ problem.” 

Before the kid can retort, Onyankopon shoves the car door open and steps out, looming over him like a shadow. Even from the passenger seat, you can see the moment the boy realizes his mistake—how his shoulders tense, how his eyes dart sideways for backup that ain’t coming.  

“You gon’ get smoked actin’ like this,” Onyankopon growls, jabbing a finger into the boy’s chest—“Get yo’ shit together ‘fore I help you.” 

“Aight, Onyo’. Damn. My bad—” 

“Get the fuck on.” 

He dismisses him before sliding back into the driver’s seat, his energy crackling like live wire. You don’t say a word—just shift in your seat, crossing your legs tight, lips pressed together.  

The engine roars as he peels off, tires biting pavement. At the first red light, his hand cups the back of your neck, dragging you into a kiss so filthy your toes curl in your heels.  

“Good girl,” he murmurs against your lips, “Appreciate you holdin’ me down.” 

You nod, still quiet, but your fingers tighten on his wrist—Where are we going? 

“Yo’ lil’ candy ass arcade on Canal.” 

Your frown melts instantly—the one with the vintage Pac-Man machine and strawberry mochi. A grin tugs at your lips despite yourself.  

“…’Kay.” 

Once again? Under his spell.

The neon glow of Canal Street buzzed around you as you stepped into the old-timey arcade, its retro facade hiding a freshly renovated interior that smelled faintly of buttered popcorn and digital nostalgia. The weekend crowd pulsed around you—laughing teenagers, couples locked in competitive banter, families chasing kids hyped up on sugar—all seeking the same escape from reality. Your fingers tightened around Onyankopon’s large hand as you tugged him inside, watching his sharp gaze flick over the space—new LED lights where flickering fluorescents once hung, sleek game consoles replacing the creaky ones he remembered.  

“Ain’t been gone that long,” he muttered, but there was no real irritation in it, just the low rumble of a man recalibrating.  

“Three months can feel like a sentence, Papa.” 

He thinks on your words for a moment. 

“‘C’mon, then. I’m tryna put ‘belt to ass in Mortal Kombat.”  

“In your dreams!” 

You darted away with a giggle, weaving through the crowd as his deep chuckle chased you. The sound was rare enough to make your chest ache—he was letting his guard down.

And when he did?  

It was like the sun breaking through a storm.  

At the game station, he was ferocious—button mashing with the precision of a man who took everything seriously, even play. His victorious howls shook your ribs where you stood pressed against him, his arm slung around your waist as he crowed about flawless victories. But then—your turn. His competitive edge melted into something softer, his hands guiding yours over the controls when you pouted about losing. 

“Like this, mama—time it right.”

 It was a quiet parallel to his life—his instinct to protect, to guide, even in something as trivial as a game.  

Later at a secluded lounge area tucked in the back of the arcade, you both shared strawberry mochi and sweet wine. The other couples around you laughed easily—holding hands, stealing kisses without glancing over their shoulders first. Your fingers traced the rim of your glass as the thought settled heavy—Did they have regular lives? Were they happier?

Onyankopon’s voice cut through the haze.  

“You been thinkin’ on somethin’ since we left the house." 

His voice is low, steady—a statement, not a question.  

“Hm?” 

“Hm?” he repeats, “Yeah, you."

You swirl the sweet wine in your glass, avoiding his gaze for just a beat too long before answering, “I’m just happy to have you home." 

He leans back in his chair, arms folding across his broad chest. 

“‘You want me to believe that?” 

“That’s what I’m telling you.” 

A beat passes. Then another. His expression doesn’t change—just that same quiet intensity, like he’s reading every flicker of hesitation in your body language.  

He stands, the chair scraping against the floor.  

“We gon’ talk over dinner," he confirms, “It’s aight." 

And just like that, the conversation is postponed—but not forgotten. You exhale softly, nodding as you rise to grab his hand, the unspoken weight of your thoughts lingering between you like an extra shadow.

The restaurant hums with the soul of New Orleans—exposed brick walls draped in vintage jazz posters, flickering candlelight glinting off brass fixtures, the rich scent of gumbo and buttery cornbread hanging thick in the air. Live piano notes drift from the corner, smooth and lazy like the Mississippi at dusk.  

You sit across from him, legs crossed just so, your lace camisole dipping to frame the heavy swell of your breasts. Small dimples flash as you press your lips together, watching him watch you with that quiet, unnerving focus of his—like he’s peeling back every layer you’ve carefully stacked since this morning.  

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you murmur, fingers tracing the rim of your water glass.  

His response is a low rumble—“Ain’t gotta thank me for doin’ shit a nigga supposed to do." 

Silence stretches between you. You know that look—chin tilted down, thick brows slightly furrowed—he’s turning something over in his mind.  

Then, out of nowhere—“How yo’ mama doin’?" 

You smile, soft and genuine. 

“Still prayin’ for you."

His lips quirk—“‘Wouldn’t want it any other way. She give a nigga ‘travelin’ grace." 

You tug a curl behind your ear, exhaling softly.  

“Well…" You reach for your purse, heart skipping—“I got you somethin’."

Your fingers tremble slightly as you pull out the blue velvet box—small, unassuming, but holding all the hope you've tucked away.  

His lips quirk before he even opens it, that deep voice laced with mischief—“Lemme’ guess—is it you, butt ass naked on top of a second Hummer? ‘Cause I was already plannin’ on makin’ that happen." 

You roll your eyes, “No, boy." 

He flips the lid open, thick fingers pausing as he pulls out the sleek, leather bound planner—matte black with silver detailing, masculine but refined. The attached pen glints under the soft restaurant lighting.  

“i got you a planner!" you squeak, suddenly nervous.  

His brow arches, thumb tracing the edge of the booklet before he meets your eyes—“That’s sweet, baby. But why?" 

You fidget, twisting a curl around your finger—“Well…I thought maybe it could be a new bonding experience for us?"

Your voice is softer now—"You know…we could journal on Sundays during online sermons, make grocery lists, plan things together…" 

Your next words come out in a rush—“I thought…maybe even show your parole officer that you do want more in life, you know?"  

The air between you shifts.  

His expression hardens, “Youn’ think I want more in life?" 

"I didn’t mean it like that, I just—" 

“So what you sayin’?" 

His voice is calm, but there’s an edge beneath it—the kind that makes your pulse stutter. You swallow, choosing your next words carefully.  

"I just…want you to try something new, On’." 

Your gaze lifts, meeting his—“There are these moments where you talk about your future—goin’ to trade school, gettin’ off the streets, somethin’…practical. You’re just too smart for that to go to waste." 

A beat passes. Then his lips curl—not quite a smile—“You think bein’ pragmatic gon’ pay the bills?" 

"Ony—" 

“Niggas out here with degrees still hustlin’ backwards. You think a planner gon’ change the fact that this city don’t give a fuck about no trade school paperwork?"

His voice drops low, gravel rough with conviction—“I got half a fuckin’ city to feed, ion’ do this shit ‘cause I like tellin’ niggas what to do. The side of town we stay on? You still there ‘cause you refuse to leave yo’ family, and I respect that."

 His jaw flexes, thumb brushing over the planner still in his hand—“But I should get the same in return." 

He’s right. He’s always talked about putting you up somewhere better—somewhere with gates and quiet streets, or even leaving New Orleans altogether—but he’s never pushed you. Never made you choose when you never agreed to that. 

And now here you are, handing him a planner like it’s an ultimatum, like paper could fix the jagged edges of the life he’s built.  

You blink hard, swallowing the lump forming—“I’m sorry…” 

Fingers trembling, you reach to take the planner back, but his hand closes gently over yours before you can.  

“Don’t do allat’," he murmurs, voice softer now. The planner stays in his grip—not rejected, not dismissed—just held. 

“‘This the shit that’s been weighin’ on yo’ heart all day?” 

The question hangs between you, raw and exposed. 

“…I talked to your parole officer,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper—““Before your release.” 

His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t interrupt.  

“He said if you get caught again…it’s twenty-five to life, Onyankopon. No parole.” 

A single tear escapes before you can stop it, sliding hot down your cheek. You swipe at it fast, but the damage is done—your face is warm, your lips trembling as you whisper, “I can’t lose you again.”

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere.” 

His voice is gruff, thick with something that makes your chest ache. He doesn’t promise miracles. Doesn’t swear he’ll change overnight. But the look in his eyes—the vow in them—says more than words ever could.  

“You have to be here, y’know?” 

His thumb swipes under your eye, rough but tender.  

“I’m knowin’, baby.” 

But you can’t stop now—the words spill out like a confession, shaky and raw—  

“When we have our first lil’ Papa…when we get married…when you finally graduate…” 

Your breath hitches, lips quivering as you grip his wrist, needing him to hear this, to feel it like you do.  

“You can’t leave me like that again.”

The words break on the last syllable, “You just can’t.” 

That’s all it takes.  

In one swift movement, he’s out of his seat, leaning across the table, his big hands cradling your face—not gentle, not this time—commanding your attention.  

“Stop that fuckin’ cryin’,” he growls, “I’m never leavin’ you again.” 

You whimper—half protest, half relief—but before you can speak, his mouth crashes into yours, stealing your breath along with the last of your tears. It’s not a sweet kiss—it’s desperate, possessive, a promise sealed in salt and heat.  

The waitress approaches with a tray piled high with steaming Creole dishes—crispy fried catfish, creamy shrimp étouffée, golden cornbread muffins—but freezes mid step when she catches sight of you two, your faces still inches apart. 

Her voice squeaks out, “I’ll—uh—‘come back!” 

Onyankopon doesn’t even flinch, just leans back slightly, his deep voice smooth as molasses—“Nah, you good, love. We ain’t mean to stop what you gotta do.” 

You quickly wipe your face with the back of your hand, giggling apologetically at her, your earlier tears replaced by a warm, flustered grin. 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” you murmur as she carefully sets the plates down.  

“Is there anything else y’all need?” she asks, glancing between you two like she’s half-expecting another emotional hurricane.  

Onyankopon settles into his seat, stretching his long legs out before casually dropping the bomb—“Can you box her up as a to-go entrée?” 

Your mouth falls open before you snatch a fry off his plate and flick it at him. He catches it between his teeth, smirk victorious as he chews.  

“Damn. Nevermind then,” he murmurs, low and playful, making the waitress bite back a laugh before she scurries off.  

The rest of the night feels good—normal in a way that makes your chest ache with gratitude. Before leaving, you drag him into the restaurant’s vintage black and white photo booth, cramming yourselves into the tiny space. He grumbles “This shit for teenagers,” but still lets you pose him—gruff, sexy glares mixed with moments where he suddenly pulls you in, his lips at your neck, his hands possessive on your hips while the flash captures it all.  

And when you climb back into the Hummer later, the LED lights inside now glow a soft violet—you can’t help but watch him with quiet fascination.  

He’s on the phone with one of his men, voice a low, authoritative rumble—“Nah, don’t move ‘til I say so”—while his free hand rolls a blunt with effortless precision, his thick fingers crimping the paper just right.

The Hummer idles softly outside your apartment building, the engine a quiet purr beneath the hum of the city at night. The LED glow from the dashboard paints his sharp features in an otherworldly hue—high cheekbones catching the light, the flicker of his chains as he moves.  

You sit curled in the passenger seat, cradling the bouquet of flowers he’d surprised you with earlier—roses, peonies, all lush and fragrant. You press your nose into the petals, inhaling deeply as your lashes flutter shut for just a second. Sweet. Just like him when he wanted to be.  

Across from you, Onyankopon flicks his lighter—the flame casting brief, dancing shadows across his deep brown skin, his tattoos momentarily illuminated like ancient script. He takes a long pull from the blunt, smoke curling from his nostrils in smooth, practiced streams.  

“Non, fais pas ça—Nah, don’t do that. Li pa bon pou biznis.” 

You watch as he takes another hit, the ember glowing bright before he exhales again, smoke filling the space between you.  

“Mwen pral rele ou pli ta,” he murmurs into the phone before ending the call.  

Silence settles, but it’s comfortable—heavy with the scent of weed and flowers, the quiet understanding between you two thicker than the smoke.  

You reach over, brushing a thumb over his knuckles.  

“Teach me,” you murmur.  

He arches a brow.  

“Creole?” 

You nod. 

His lips curl into that half smirk that always makes your stomach flutter as he nudges the blunt between his fingers and murmurs, "Say ‘Mwen renmen w’." 

I love you. 

You bite your lip to suppress the grin threatening to take over your face—you know what it means—but you play along anyway, voice lilting sweetly, “Mwen renmen w." 

His eyes darken, the low purple light catching the flecks of gold in them as he exhales smoke and leans closer, rough palm cradling your jaw. 

“I love you so much fuckin’ more, girl." 

You only took two hits, but it’s enough—your body melts against his side, pliant and warm, your cheek pressing into the firm curve of his shoulder as he scrolls through his phone with one hand, the other absently tracing circles on your thigh.  

Messages light up the screen—coordinates, confirmations, the usual—but you’re too busy nuzzling into the scruff along his jaw, breathing in the mix of his cologne and weed. You press a feather light kiss there, right where his beard meets his cheekbone.  

“Thank you, mama," he murmurs, voice gravel rough but tender.  

You go in for another, but this time he turns his head just enough to meet you halfway—a quick peck at first, teasing. But when you chase his lips, he hums low in his throat and suddenly it’s not quick anymore.  

His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, demanding entry, and you part for him with a breathy sigh. The kiss deepens—slow, filthy, calculated—until you’re squirming in your seat, your fingers tangled in his chains.  

“Aight," he growls against your mouth, one hand already on the door handle—“"We takin’ this shit upstairs."

The kiss is molten, unhurried but heavy with intent—your foreheads bump together, lips slanting clumsily as you whimper into his mouth, needier than usual. Your heel slides up over the center console, legs spreading just enough in that shy, wordless way of yours—can’t wait, don’t make me wait. 

Then—there—the rough pad of his middle finger swiping over your clothed folds, and fuck, the fabric is already damp, sticking to your skin. Your tongue stutters against his, a broken huff catching in your throat as your head falls back against the seat.  

“….Ain’t even touched yo’ ass yet,” he murmurs, but his finger circles again, mimicking the lazy thrust of his tongue—slow, then slower—until you’re squirming, your hips canting up into his touch.   

“Mwen renmen w,” you mewl, and his fingers curl, gripping your thigh as he licks into your mouth like he’s trying to taste the words.  

“‘Fuckin’ right you do.”

The air in the Hummer is thick—hot with the weight of desperate breaths and the slick, sinful sound of his fingers teasing you through damp fabric. Your hands fist gently in his beard, the coarse strands scraping against your palms, sending a shiver down your spine. You can’t help it—you nuzzle against the roughness, craving the friction, the burn of it against your skin before dragging him down into another filthy, open mouthed kiss.  

Your legs spread wider—so fucking wide—knees falling slack against the leather seats, silently begging.  

His fingers then hook into the waistband of your capris, dipping just beneath. He doesn’t even push inside yet, just swipes slow along your soaked folds, gathering the slick there before dragging back up. Your hips jerk, but he pins you with a glare, forehead pressed hard against yours as his breath fans over your parted lips.  

“M’gonna cum if you put ‘em in,” you whimper, voice trembling, weak.  

You squirm, biting your lip—“Ony…I’m so wet.” 

His nostrils flare, eyes narrowing as he leans in, his breath hot against your ear—“I’mma put ‘em in. You ‘bet not fuckin’ cum.”

The moment his thick fingers slide inside you, deep, your body betrays you in the most obscene way—your pussy clenches around him with a wet, shuddering pfft  as his knuckles sink into your swollen folds.  

A weak, desperate sob tears from your throat, your voice breaking high and needy like you haven’t been touched in years, like his fingers are the only thing keeping you sane. Worse? You gush around him instantly, soaking his hand in a humiliating rush of slick, your hips jerking helplessly.  

“Fuck,” he growls, dragging the word out low and rough as your eyes roll back. He’s fucking you with his fingers, slow and deep, curling them just right to make your back arch off the seat.  

“Ughn—ohmygod—“ you slur, voice wrecked, your mouth falling slack as he pistons his fingers in and out, your wetness squelching around them with every thrust.  

He leans in, his breath hot against your ear—“Soundin’ like a fuckin’ baby.” 

And you do—whimpering, gasping, your pussy clenching around his fingers like it’s trying to milk them for more.  

“Ain’t even fucked you yet,” he murmurs, cruel, twisting his fingers just to hear you sob again.

A desperate whimper claws its way up your throat as you crash your mouth against his in a messy, open mouthed kiss—tongue sliding filthy against his, lips smearing wet and frantic. Your brows knit together, a tight little frown creasing your forehead as his fingers bury themselves even deeper, stretching you with that perfect, brutal coil that makes your toes curl.  

“Onyo’—fuhh—!" 

The words dissolve into a senseless slur, your voice cracking as your legs hike higher, knees pressing into your chest, showing him—begging him—just how badly you need it.  

Your mind hazes, drifting back to those long nights alone—phone pressed to your ear, his voice rough through the receiver as he talked you through it, murmuring filthy promises while you rubbed your clit with trembling fingers, tears streaking your cheeks.  

And now? You can’t even handle the real thing. 

His fingers withdraw with a wet pop, leaving you empty and whimpering—until his rough grip tangles in your hair, yanking your face toward his lap with a throaty command. 

“Gon’ eat this dick up," he grunts, voice dripping with dominance—“Actin’ like you can’t even take my fingers." 

You surge forward, pressing a sloppy, desperate kiss against his lips—“M’sorry—" 

“Ion’ wanna hear allat’,” he growls, "On yo’ knees." 

He shoves the console back with one hand, his other hand still fisted in your curls, guiding you down. The sight of you beneath him is obscenely perfect—your large, teary eyes peering up through your lashes, lips parted and puffy, freckled cheeks flushed.  

With trembling hands, you tug his sweats down just enough to free him—his dick springs out, thick and angry, the tip already glistening. It’s bigger than your face, heavy in your small hands, veins prominent under your fingertips.  

"Fuck," you whimper—you can’t help yourself, smacking the swollen head against your tongue before licking a kittenish stripe up his shaft. 

His rough palm cups the side of your face, calloused fingers pressing into your soft skin before delivering a dominant smack—not hard enough to hurt, just enough to make you whimper and redden under his touch.  

“How much you missed this dick?" He growls, watching with hooded eyes as you bob your head messily, spit and pre-cum slicking your lips.  

Your answer comes in slurred, desperate sucks—“Mmmhh—mmph!"—the vibration of your whimpers traveling up his length. You've always struggled to take him fully, but you try so hard, your throat fluttering around the head as you choke back tears.  

He chuckles darkly, reaching for the blunt still smoldering in the ashtray. Onyankopon takes a slow drag, exhaling smoke through his nose like some kind of arrogant god watching his worshipper struggle.  

“Pull them pretty ass titties out," he commands, "You know what a nigga like." 

With shaky hands, you tug your top down, letting your heavy breasts spill free. Your nipples are already peaked and sensitive, and when your fingers brush over them, you jolt with a breathy gasp. 

“Ah—!" 

“Keep goin'," he rumbles, sinking deeper into his seat, blunt dangling between his fingers as he watches you with lazy hunger.

“‘Ain't tell you to stop." 

You press your tits together around his thick length, the head of his dick peeking out between the softness of your cleavage. You begin rocking your body, fucking him with your tits in slow, worshipful strokes—  

"Mwen renmen w," you mewl again, voice weak and trembling, your swollen lips forming the words between gasps.  

“Say that shit again.”

“Mwen renmen w!" you mewl even deeper, your hips jerking uselessly as your arousal drips down your thighs.  

He grunts, finally tossing the blunt aside—“Fuck it. A nigga need yo’ pussy now."

Your fingers clutch at his shoulders, pulling him down as your back hits the leather seat—his massive frame hovers over you, swallowing you in shadow except for the violet glow of the LED lights streaking across his sweat-slicked skin. Your lips find him again in a weak, sloppy kiss, your mind too fogged with lust to form coherent thoughts—just need, just heat, just him. 

“Show a nigga what he been missin’.” 

Your thighs tremble as you slowly spread your legs wider beneath him, presenting your soaked folds—puffy and glistening under the dim light.  

“Been waitin’ for you," you whimper, voice cracking with desperation.  

The words hit him like a match to gasoline.  

He crashes his mouth back onto yours in a searing kiss before trailing his lips down—lower—licking a hot stripe down your neck, sucking bruises into your throat, teeth scraping over your collarbone. Your back arches when his tongue swirls around one taut nipple, then the other, pulling whines from your chest as pleasure spikes through you.  

But he doesn’t stop there.  

Strong hands grip your thighs, spreading them wider as he licks his lips—"Fuck, look at you." 

And then he dives in.  

His tongue drags slow and filthy up your slit, savoring you before he buries his face between your legs, nose nudging your clit as he devours—deep, hungry strokes of his tongue, curling just right inside you.  

Your hands fly to his braids, gripping tight as your hips jerk—  

"Fuck, baby.” 

His response? A low, vibrating growl against your pussy, his fingers digging into your thighs to hold you still as he feasts.  

Onyankopon’s mouth is filthy—so loud, messy and wet, lips sealing around your clit with a suck that makes your whole body jerk. Saliva and arousal mix in obscene, sloppy sounds, his tongue working you open with rough, languid strokes like he's savoring every damn second.  

You tuck your chin shyly, peeking down at him through fluttering lashes—his face buried between your thighs, eyes hooded with satisfaction as he eats you like his last meal. Your fingers tangle in his braids, twisting gently, playing with the silky strands as a soft pout forms on your lips.  

“…Missed playin’ in your hair," you whimper, voice thick with emotion—almost fragile, like admitting it out loud makes it more real.   

“Ain’t gotta miss it,” he rasps, his tongue plunging deep—"Keep playin’ in my shit. Gon’ let you braid me up again after you make a fuckin’ mess on me." 

Your breath hitches, fingers tightening in his hair as you nod frantically, spreading your legs even wider—"Uh-huh—y-yeah—!"  

Your words dissolve into stupid, slurred nonsense—"Ony—fuhh—I’mgonnac—“ as your pussy gushes against his mouth, the lewd squelch of his tongue working you over drowning out your weak cries. Your cheeks burn hot, embarrassment and pleasure twisting together as you feel everything—his nose grinding against your clit, his lips sucking your folds, his tongue fucking into you in slow, filthy circles.  

“Taste so fuckin’ good," he growls against your skin, the vibration making you squeal peevishly.

“Mwen renmen w..." 

And just like that? Switch flipped. 

His grip tightens, lifting your legs effortlessly over his broad shoulders, thumbs rubbing slow circles into the arches of your feet like he’s savoring the feel of you.  

“Keep tellin’ a nigga you love him,” he grunts, voice low and rough—"Let’s have a conversation." 

You whimper, arms looping around his neck, pulling him closer until his forehead presses against yours—breaths mingling, hearts pounding.  

“Mwen renmen w," you whisper again, barely audible, lips brushing his with each syllable.  

And then—oh God—you feel him. His thick length slaps against your soaked folds, the blunt head nudging at your entrance, already making your body tense in anticipation.  

“Yeah, huh? Talk to me." 

You nod frantically, pliant eyes struggling to focus as he starts to sink in—slow, so damn slow—stretching you in a way you haven’t felt in too long.  

Your face twists—lips parting around a shaky gasp—as the fullness steals your breath.  And then? Emotion hits you like a tidal wave.  

Tears prick at your eyes, your chest swelling with something so big it hurts. You feel connected—like his soul is pressing into yours with every inch.  

“Mwen renmen w," you sob—weakest yet, voice cracking—as he finally bottoms out, his hips flush against your ass.  

His groan is guttural, hands tightening on your thighs—“Fuck, mama—I know." 

And then he moves.

His strokes are borderline punishing—each thrust forcing a choked gasp from your throat, the stretch of him bordering on too much, too deep, too everything. Yet your body clings to him greedily, walls fluttering around his length like it’s been starved—rewarding him for every inch he takes, every brutal snap of his hips that leaves you whimpering.  

Your toes curl, thighs trembling where they’re hooked over his shoulders. One large hand fists at the nape of your hair, yanking your face close to his until your foreheads knock together—your head jerks back with each rough thrust, lips parted in a shaky pout, tears spilling over your flushed cheeks.  

Weak little sobs hitch in your chest with every drive of his hips, your nails digging crescent moons into the sweat-slick muscles of his back. Between broken moans, your voice cracks—soft, vulnerable—  

“Hurts—seein’ you leave," you sniffle, brows knitting together, “D—don’t…wanna do that again…” 

His glare darkens, jaw tightening as he rams into you harder—deeper—a grunt tearing from his chest as his breath fans hot over your face.  

“Then don’t," he snarls, voice raw with possessiveness, "Ain’t goin’ nowhere if you keep takin’ dick like this.” 

Your next cry is swallowed by his mouth—his kiss bruising, tongue forcing its way past your lips as if to silence your doubts. And god help you, you let him—melting into the pain, the pleasure, the promise in every snap of his hips.  

You’re silent now—past words, past whimpers—just taking him, your body trembling under the sheer weight of his dominance. The only sound is the obscene squelch of your pussy creaming around him, gushing embarrassingly with every withdrawal of his thick length.  

“That’s it—take this shit. Ain’t no runnin’ now,” he growls, watching your teary eyes roll back as your walls clench around him.  

A surrendering little sob escapes you once more—weak, broken—your hands limply gripping his shoulders as he fucks you through it, his pace never faltering.  

“Fuck, girl—you drippin’ all on me." 

And you are—soaking his thighs, the leather seats, everything. Your orgasm wrings you out in slow, torturous waves as he uses you, claims you, ruins you. 

His touch softens just enough to soothe—calloused fingers brushing away your tears as he kisses you through your cries, lips lingering against yours in a rare moment of tenderness.

“M’sorry,” he just grunts, voice rough with sincerity.

“Ain’t leavin’ you again." 

Your nods and whimpers dissolve into another aching climax, your pussy pulsing around him as you drown in the love, the passion, the need. It’s a moment that could last forever. 

But just like that? The mood shifts. 

His grip tightens, flipping you effortlessly onto your knees, face pressed into the leather as he drags you back onto his lap—ass up, his dick buried to the hilt inside you. Your feet tuck atop his thighs, heels digging in as you let out a tiny, shuddering “O—Ooh—!" 

You start slow. Rolling your hips back tentatively, but he then growls, “Take yo’ time. ‘This dick ain’t goin’ nowhere.” 

The command is clear.  

You listen, setting a rhythm—slow, deliberate—skin slapping together in a steady, filthy clap that fills the heavy silence. Your thighs tremble, face smushed into the seat as your whimpers grow louder—"O—O-ooh—!" 

Onyankopon’s hand cracks down on your ass, “‘There she go’. My lil’ nasty ass bitch." 

Your fingers slip between your lips, stifling your moans as you rock back onto him, ass quaking with each bounce.  

“I ain’t movin’," he warns, "Give me a fuckin’ show.” 

You press a shaky hand against his abdomen for leverage, sitting up just enough to feel him deeper—too deep—hitting a spot so painfully good your body locks up.

His grip tightens around your waist as you whimper—"Ooh, shit!” before desperately bouncing your ass back onto him, the sound of skin slapping skin deafening in the enclosed space.  

And then? Your pussy farts around him for the thousandth time, wet and obscene, the vibration dragging a trembling groan from your throat—“Ooooh, mygod—Papa—!" 

You were never loud like this. 

Your moans drag out—whiny, high-pitched, annoyed with yourself because you can’t stop them, each thrust pulling another pathetic sound from your lips.  

Onyankopon’s hand slips around your torso, calloused fingers cupping beneath your breasts where his name brands into your skin—it’s effortless. He’s bouncing you down onto his dick like you weigh nothing, your legs kicking weakly as your cream paints his length.   

“You gon’ keep takin’ this muhfucka’ like you missed it.” 

And you do—each bounce, each squelch, each fatty noise your pussy makes proving it.  

"That’s my muhfuckin’ girl." 

Your head falls back against his shoulder, mouth drooling, eyes rolling, body melting. He owns you. 

His thick forearm presses against your throat, the pressure just enough to make your vision blur at the edges as he fucks into you with even more brutal, punishing strokes. His jaw rests heavy atop your head, your weak panting the only sound you can manage past the tightness in your windpipe—your body submitting under his dominance.  

“Mmmf—hot," you mewl, sweat slicked skin sticking to his, the air in the car suffocating.  

Without breaking rhythm, Onyankopon reaches over and rolls the window down, the sudden rush of night air hitting your overheated skin—  

Oh God. 

Your noises—those pathetic, whimpering, creaming sounds—are now free to echo into the quiet neighborhood.  

Panicked, you reach a shaky hand toward the window switch—but his grip tightens around your throat, cutting off your air as he rams up into you, all while tugging you down onto his dick even harder. 

“Nngh—!" you choke, humiliation burning through you as you clench around him.  

“You whinin’ like a bitch,” he grunts directly into your ear, the vibration shooting straight to your core.  

Then, with a final rough tug, he forces your face toward the open window—forcing you to see the dimly lit houses, the quiet streets—his people, his city.  

“Let everybody know I’m back home.”

And you scream. His name ripping from your throat, raw and unhinged. 

“Mwen renmen w,”  he growls between thrusts, the Creole rolling off his tongue like honey mixed with gravel—your words, your love, thrown back at you with the same raw intensity you’d given him all night.  

Your body jerks as he nuts—deep, so deep—his release flooding you in thick, pulsing waves that make your thighs quiver. 

For a long moment, there’s nothing but heavy breathing—his chest rising and falling against your back, your own breath hitching in your throat as aftershocks ripple through you.  

Then, weakly, you tilt your head up, catching his lips in one last, tender kiss—your little cries soft against his mouth, voice trembling with everything—relief, exhaustion, love.  

Your body melts back against his chest, muscles lax and satisfied as you peer out through the cracked window at the quiet streets of the 7th Ward. The humid night air carries the distant hum of cicadas and the faint bassline of someone’s music drifting from a porch down the block. His warmth presses into your back, steadying, as you tilt your head to murmur against his skin—  

“Where would we go... if we left?" 

For a beat, he stills—his breath huffing against your damp shoulder before he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, lips brushing the sensitive skin there. 

“Wherever you wanna be, girl. ‘Long as it’s got a bed that can take how I fuck you." 

A weak giggle bubbles from your throat—but then you say it, the words slipping out before you can second-guess them. 

“‘M serious, Papa. I think it’s time to get out the 7th.” 

You feel his surprise, the way his grip tightens reflexively around your waist.

“Where ‘this comin’ from?”   

You swallow, suddenly shy. 

"Been thinkin’... ’bout quiet. ‘Bout space. ‘Bout you—us—somewhere ain’t nobody knockin’ on the door.”

His fingers trace idle patterns on your hip as he murmurs, “A crib up in the Art District ‘don’t sound bad."

“Gives more space for Bear to run around."

“Yeah," he agrees, "A nigga could look into some trade schools ‘round there too." 

Wait. 

 You turn slightly in his arms, searching his face. 

“You’re serious?" 

He nods. Then he says it—words heavy with the weight of a future he’s choosing.

“‘Wanna give you a ring. A child. ‘Can’t do allat’ bein’ on the streets.”

Your heart swells. 

You clutch his face as you say, “It doesn’t matter who you are to everybody else. You got me. I love you more than life itself, Onyankopon.” 

He grunts low in his throat—then crashes his lips against yours in a kiss so deep, so emotional, it makes you giggle against his mouth, cheeks burning.  

“We finna’ go get a ring right fuckin’ now.” 

You giggle once more, pressing a hand to his chest. 

"Let’s make it into the house first, yeah? We need a shower." 

"Aight. Imma’ fuck you again in there." 

You squeak as he hoists you up, your half naked body tucked tight against his chest as he steps out into the humid night. A few voices call out from porches down the block—“Aye, Ony back home!"—cheery, thick with that Southern lilt. 

You nestle your face against the sweat damp skin of his collarbone before murmuring, “…The 7th ain’t so bad with you here." 

When you peer up, his gaze is already locked on you—dark, heavy, full of something that makes your stomach flip.  

“A nigga couldn’t ask for anythin’ more than yo’ love.”

Before you can respond—scratch scratch scratch—Bear’s massive paws hit the front door, his excited whines vibrating through the wood.  

Onyankopon just chuckles, adjusting you in his arms as he kicks the door open. And the last thing the neighborhood hears before it slams shut? Your giggles, his grunt as Bear tackles him, and the thud of all three of you entering inside with a heap. 

Home. It feels like home again. 

[julietteefferrars]

lovely lil self concept rampage bc yall know how much i emphasize it

i am all that is. i am love. i am perfection. i am always chosen. i am everyone's top priority. no one is better than me, no one compares to me. i am pure perfection made manifest. i am redefining perfection. i am redefining beauty. i mog aphrodite with my stunning outrageously ridiculously astronomical beauty and good looks. i just can't seem to stop getting more and more prettier every day! i'm such an abundance magnet. nobody knows what successful means until they meet me. nobody knows what beauty is until they meet me. people keep gifting me expensive things because they know i'm a fucking queen. i'm expensive as fuck. i'm rich as fuck, therefore i keep getting expensive high quality gifts 24/7. of course people feel the need to spend all their money on me, i'm literally the blueprint of desire and expensive. i'm literally the definition of desired. i'm everyone's desired face, the one that everyone is looping subliminals for hours for, the one everyone is paying millions on surgery to look like. i'm the fucking blueprint of course! i'm incredibly intoxicating, magnetic, captivating, unforgettable, irresistible and i can never be replaced. i am the source and operant power of my reality and it's whatever i say that fucking goes. i am the queen, the dictator, supreme commander, conquerer of my reality. i am the sun and everything and everyone is orbiting me. i am quite literally the center of the universe and the world does revolve around me actually! i love making people's jaws drop all the way to the core of the earth because of my groundbreaking earthshattering beauty and magnetic energy. i'm more magnetic than magnets. i'm everyone's favorite because i'm everyone's first choice. every situation always goes in my favor. every situation always gets revised the way i want it. i'm the source of my sps needs and wants. i'm the source of my sps' oxygen. i'm literally the one they're all fucking drunk on. they need me. they can't live without me. they can't breathe without me. they can't function without me. my sps don't know peace without me and every day spent without me is turmoil for them. my absence and presence are unforgettable. i light up every single room i walk into and people simply cannot ignore. people always prioritize me in group settings and chats. everyday my wealth and fame increases. i'm set for life doing what i love doing. my wealth is constantly booming. my influencer career is booming. every day i gain thousands of loyal fans who would go to war for me. any haters i have always end up becoming fans too. i'm irresistble of course, and they're obsessed with me, it's just about time they come to terms with that! i love having my desired appearance from head to toe because i'm all that is. i'm gorgeous no matter how i look, i'm a love and positive attention magnet however i look but i can decide how i look because i fr am SOURCE!! I'M LITERALLY THE OPERANT POWER!! i love the fact i can get literally ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING I WANT. i love that nothing is off the table for me because i'm the queen. anything i even remotely think about, is already mine. every technique i ever do works instantly. doesn't matter if i affirm in present or future it always works instantly. anything and everything i do works instantly. reality shifting is so easy it's absolutely annoying. it's insanely ridiculous to me how simple and easy shifting is. damn it can i ever stop shifting to my desired realities?!!! ugh it's so annoying how i'm constantly shifting to my drs just by thinking about them!! why are my physical senses always catching up at the speed of light to my desires?!! it's so annoying how i'm CONSTANTLY manifesting what i want instantly and shifting. ugh give me a break! i am protected against the things i don't want, honestly me not even wanting something is enough to keep me protected against it. i'm constantly living life on easy mode. everything is pure perfection <3.

signed, juliette ferrars of sector 45.

[forgivefaye]

Barbie!Reader who’s full of herself and her boyfriend Onyankopon who loves it…hmmmmmmm…

Being full of yourself isn’t something thats unknown.

You’ve always gotten those ‘allegations’ since you were still new to the world. You know it, Ony knows it, hell—he feeds into it the most. He can’t even stop himself from smiling, faint dimples peeking through his cheeks when he catches you staring at the mirror by your shared bed while his long, curved dick is plunging in and out of you right when he shows up after work unannounced. He needed this—needed nothing more than his pretty ass girlfriend after a long day behind the chair, cutting hair nonstop and ears filled with pointless conversations that never mean anything. And he lets you know that.

He told himself he showed up because “you were too quiet and needed checking on” or that he “doesn’t like being away from you for too long”—both true, but neither the main reason, not with how much of a hurry he was in to get you cumming for him. Not even half an hour after he came through your door—he had your thighs wide open, teasing your perky clit through your panties, the cotton adding extra friction while he circled his fingers creating a wet patch while your folds spilled out the sides of the fabric, the shorts of your tiny matching pajama set tossed to the side. That’s why across the room, his keys were tossed beside his gun on your dresser like it was nothing, looking out of place right next to your perfume bottles and sweet-smelling pink candle still burning soft in complete contrast in how loud you were moaning while your boyfriend split you open.

“Daddy baby so pretty,” Your head is tipped back over the edge of the bed into the mirror, ponytail of knee length knotless braids slipping out of place, vision flipped upside down, your reflection staring back from the mirror beside you—glossy-lipped, flushed, eyes locked on yourself like you can’t help it, because you really can’t focus on anything but you and your Ony’s tip almost brushing your cervix. His built arms fold your knees in close, holding you right where he wants you almost too easily. He glances at the mirror this time, grin going lazy. “Isn’t she?” He ask as he focuses on you a little longer. “Why she look like she ’bouta cry?” He shifts just enough to make the point, like he’s waiting for the answer to show on your face as he pulsates inside of you.

“You hear me lil girl,” Your pussy is loud to the point where he can barley hear himself—the creamy noise alone filling Ony’s ears can make him nut so he cant dare to look down at the way your pussy drools so much everytime theres a mirror involved. The way you turn yourself on, knowing exactly who you are, gets him going every single time—for some reason, he could never explain why your confidence always had blood rushing to his dick immediately. “Uh-hhhmm! I-m not ‘bout—a cry! Mmph!” you choke out knowing good n well you’re already crying, eyes and lashes almost as wet as you.

a/n: posting a draft of my baby ony because i feel bad for always ghosting yall😞 writers block still beating my ass after 3 months ughh when will it end

not proofread

© 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄. 2026.

[tonycries]

It's Raining Men

Synopsis. Every specimen: the hot nerd that tutors you, his punk best friend, the pink-haired frat president, the sensible history professor, the emo boy with 11 inches, the buff campus security! They have only one thing in common—bréeding you.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader, Geto Suguru x Reader, Ryomen Sukuna x Reader, Nanami Kento x Reader, Choso Kamo x Reader, Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, college AU, nerd!Gojo, punk!Geto, frat boy!Sukuna, professor!Nanami, emo boy!Choso, security guard!Toji, ALL of the JJK men (at once), f/m/m/m/m/m/m, ovuIation, BRÉEDING, mentions of having kids, oraI (fem +  maIe rec.) handj’s, fíngering, manhandIing, HEADLOCKS, biiig stretches, spítting, chokíng, p talking, rough s, restraints, they’re FÉRAL, Geto with piercings, Choso with piercings, making Gojo whímper, first times (Gojo), everyone penetrates at some point, D descriptions, big D’s. dírty taIk, voyéurism, running from it, bickering during it, EiffeI tower, DP, DÚMBlFICATlON, MAJOR overstím, anaI pIay, matíng presses, fuIl neIsons, cervíx kíssing, lessons, waIked in on, SLOPPY s, slight exhíbitíonism, creampíes (like a lot), cúmpIay, cúmfIation, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 20.4k

A/N. Happy new year!!

“—thus, during this stage of ovulation it is natural to experience a surge in the luteinizing hormone (LH), which heightens the desire to…” Gojo trails off.

You’re looking up from your notes, just in time to catch him pushing his glasses up his ruddied face. Hands shaking. Breaths heavy. You tilt your head in confusion, “Which heightens the desire to what, Satoru?”

“You know…”

You’re shaking your head with a laugh, “Isn’t that why I begged you to become my tutor?”

“It increases the desire for ah…an interplay of intimacy from which…blossoms the natural by-product of a…um—” His voice cracks. And seeing your look of concern, Gojo lets out a stabilizing breath and tries again, “The…the birds and the bees?” 

“Ah!” Stifling a giggle, “You mean it heightens the desire to get pregnant.” 

And you take your sweet, sweet time jotting it down in your notes - long enough that Gojo Satoru hopefully calms down-

“…Do you feel it?”

“What?”

“Do you feel the desire to get pregnant?”

The pen clatters out of your hand.

“W-wait, I’ll get it!” Gojo stammers out, disappearing beneath the long library table before you can say anything. His head of angelic white hair contrasts against the sleek mahogany, so at odds with the devilish question that’d just left his mouth - so perhaps it was only so fitting that when Gojo sunk in to get your pen…you could feel his soft hair graaaaaze against your thigh-

You shiver- sweeping a look around at the bored university students to make sure that nobody saw. Or overheard. 

And in the next second, he’s coming back up.

“I believe this is yours.” Gojo’s lips tremble in shyness, flushed as if you’d just thrown him into a furnace. He holds the pen out gingerly towards you, which you take - along with a moment to inspect him. Admire him, more like.

Gojo Satoru.

Human Calculator.

A++ being the lowest grade he’d ever gotten.

Pigs would fly before he didn’t take the #1 spot on the Dean’s List.

It didn’t need to be said that Gojo Satoru was one of the sharpest minds on campus - yes, perhaps even amongst the professors. For you’d seen Yaga hold him back after class on more than one occasion to become marvelled by his physics thesis. 

But that wasn’t where the problem lay.

The problem lay in the fact that not only was Gojo one of the smartest men you’ve ever met - but he was one of the cutest, too. That snow-white hair and ice-blue eyes made it impossible not to spot him amongst a crowd - always a few heads taller than everyone else, always crushing some textbook to his chest.

Thick glasses. Fast steps.

He nervously avoided eye contact in the hallways, and it’d taken you multiple tries to successfully tap at his shoulder and get his attention. Earlier in the semester, you’d pleaded your case to Gojo about how you’d been getting absolutely abysmal grades in Yaga’s class lately. After that it’d only taken you a little poking and prodding (‘do it for the love of science!’) to successfully convince the nerdy boy to tutor you once a week. 

Though he was blushing and fidgeting throughout the entire interaction…

The tutoring became a routine. The routine became a rhythm. The rhythm became a relationship that you’d honestly consider to be good friends.

Through these sessions you discovered that Gojo became rather talkative when he wanted to be, rather sweet, rather funny. And you weren’t blind to his good looks either, of course…In less than a semester’s time, you reached one of the top five spots in Yaga’s class. Despite that, the two of you continued your little tutoring sessions in your back corner of the library every week like normal.

Well, normal except for right now-

“Thank you.” You’re belatedly saying, gesturing at the pen.

To which Gojo scratches behind his neck sheepishly, “It’s no problem, of course!” He flushes even deeper the moment you turn your eyes towards him, looking as though he wished to sink into the light blue ocean of his sweater. “And about what I said earlier-” His pale brows scrunch together in a way that made him look adorably pleading. “-forget about it. Forget I ever asked something so-”

“I do.”

He snaps his azure eyes towards you at your interruption, twinkling behind his glasses. “P-pardon?”

“What you asked me.” You’re leaning over the table, the neckline of your shirt dipping juuust a tad—and you watch as Gojo gulps when his eyes flicker down. Unable to help himself. “I do feel the desire to get fucked pregnant sometimes.”

Gojo flinches at the way you’d worded it, prominent Adam’s apple bobbing. “Sometimes?” 

“Sometimes when I ovulate. Sometimes just in general on those late nights, I guess.” Your eyes hone in on the squirming man, “Though that depends on who I’m thinking of at the time.”

“Thinking of who’d be the-”

“The father, yes.”

Pushing his glasses up with jittery hands. “And have you ever thought of…” His question trails off, voice sounding as parched as if he’d just run several marathons in the scorching heat. And he was burning up just as much.

You cock your head to the side, “You?” He jolts at the mere word.

Only nodding.

“Would you be upset if I said yes?”

Only shaking his head.

And then Gojo mutters something underneath this breath that you don’t quite pick up on.

“What was that, Satoru?”

When Gojo looks at you once more, you notice that his eyes are blown wide. Dazed. Daydreaming. Beads of perspiration form on his upper lip as he stutters, voice oddly high. “I said- you’re set to ovulate in about t-two to three days from now.” Your mouth drops a little—didn’t that lil’ app on your phone say the same thing just yesterday? How did he know? Under the table, Gojo’s knuckles were pure white and gripping his knees. “I ah- one time you were late to a session because of your cramps. And ever since then I always sort of…kept track, you see.”

Your eyes widen- so that was how Gojo always somehow knew to sneak your favorite sugary treats into the library on the days of your period. You did begin to wonder…

“I…I see.”

“You see.”

You cock your head at him, “And do men feel the same desire?”

He whispers, “Depending on the person…”

“Do you?”

“Yes.” Like the most sinful confession.

Without a word you’re reaching out and tugging his notebook towards you. His breath hitches as he watches you flip between pages of neat handwriting - lessons curated just for you - before pausing at the very end of it.

You’re biting back a smile at the way he’d scribbled your name over and over on the last page, hearts doodled around each one. You write—-The pregnancy list.

1. Gojo Satoru.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

“Every good experiment has an apparatus list.” You’re looking up at Gojo with a sly smile, “You taught me that.”

Certainly not like this. “I did, but-” He looks around as though someone in the library would walk by and see what you’re writing.

“And every good experiment has material considerations, too, right?”

“W-well, yes, but…”

You continue to write.

1. Gojo Satoru.

Super cute

Probably a big D

Secret freak (tracked ovulation!??)

However has no experience (not quite a con?) and no place to fuck in (single bed + has a roommate, Geto)

“Hmm, how do you feel about being the independent variable?” You tap your pen on your chin.

Gojo whips his confused blue eyes towards you, a tiny furrow between his white brows. “What do you…”

“The independent variable.” Just in time, you’re looking up to catch the sight of a certain black-haired man entering the library. And you know who it is instantly - there was no man quite as pretty as him on campus. Handsome, sure. But this pretty? It was your best friend, someone you’d met in your first year and knew even before you knew Gojo. “Just like you’re tutoring me now, Satoru, haven’t you ever thought of someone-” His silver piercings glinting in the daylight. His stylishly tattered Sex Pistols t-shirt showing off toned skin. His lips stretching into a feline grin as he spots the two of you. “-tutoring you?”

Something electric runs down Gojo’s body, and he’s just about to turn and look behind when-

Geto Suguru throws an arm over his best friend’s shoulders and tackles him into a headlock, winking at you. “Hard at work, gorgeous?”

You nod, because the one thing about lists was that when you started one—you just wanted to keep on adding to it.

2. Geto Suguru.

Fucking PRETTY

Rings 

In a band

Already super close friends. Two in one go??

.

.

.

SUGONDEEZNUTS created a groupchat.

SUGONDEEZNUTS added Gojo Satoru.

SUGONDEEZNUTS added you.

SUGONDEEZNUTS named the groupchat ‘Juno, y’know?’

SUGONDEEZNUTS: Yo, sorted a place big enough for us~

SUGONDEEZNUTS: 8PM.

SUGONDEEZNUTS added RyomenTheK!ng.

.

.

.

“C-could you keep your panties on, sweetheart?” Gojo blushes as he stutters out the words. He’s looking down between your legs and slidin’ a thumb between your pussylips, collecting the slick syrup gathered on top of your light blue underwear. 

You raise a brow, “I didn’t think you’d be the type to have a panty fetish, Satoru.” Maybe you were right about him secretly being a freak…

“It’s just- they’re the same color as my eyes.” Those very same blue irises peak out at you above the rim of his glasses, partially fogged with condensation. “M-makes me think that we’re having…a boy in nine months or something like that. Maybe twins. A boy and a girl?”

Your jaw drops, “Oh-”

And it’s the only noise you’re managing to get out before Gojo slots his pretty pink cockhead between your legs. Just letting the thick curvature of it press aside your pussy’s folds before he’s rutting—like an animal. 

Gojo was just painfully hard already, swollen with need, bursting out in bouts of precum that left your thighs all wet. He was just so excited—he’d damn near cried once he managed to get you sprawled out on a bed that wasn’t yours. One of his doughy pink thumbs swipin’ your underwear to the side and getting a goooood long look at that pussy of yours-

“N-ngh—” His eyes fall shut, entire body shuddering at the sensation of your pussy throb-throb-throbbing away beneath him. Erection sliding down your front. Sandwiched by your cunt. Gojo Satoru - always so eloquent, always so intelligent with his words - can only heave his body forward and whimper- “S-scientifically, the presence of your panties won’t be a haaah- limitation in me breeding your pussy, right?”

“What are you even asking…”  You’re blinking up at him, “Satoru, you’re not seriously that pussydrunk, are y-”

“Oh look…” Gojo’s eyes widen as he watches a webbed line of his own precum slide down your slit, and that only leaves his sharp mind racing. “Scientifically, can your pussy talk, sweetheart? Because your unica mucosa vaginae is sounding like she wants me already.”

And then follows the utterly sloppiest squelch as Gojo pushes his thickened tip at your sensitive hole and starts to puuuush—

Your cute tutor had been the first one to take off his boxers - and it really was true what they say about nerdy boys being…bigger.

He was about nine entire inches, and the most adorable rosy pink at his tip - one that matched the blush on his face. Only growing more and more, thicker and thicker, every time he was swipin’ his velvety shaft between your folds and trying to fit inside.

Pushing and pushing.

Stretching out your quivering orifice.

Gojo was just so sensitive—you’d asked him earlier whether this was his first time, and the nerdy boy had only blushed and mumbled something incoherent. Though his cap of precum that just kept on pouring out told you everything you needed to know - even now he was squeezing just the barest inch of his tip into your hole and groaning. Twitching. 

“O-oh—” His pre-glossed tip slips out of your hole and slides-slides down the middle of your pussylips, “Fuck- I need at least the urethral meatus inside to successfully breed you, sweetheart. N-need to be inside your pussy…”

“You really wanna knock me up, huh?” You’re whining out.

“So badly.” Almost shyly. Gojo can only let a dopey smile stretch across his lips at the notion, sounding out-of-breath already. He’s keeping his thumb hooked on your panties, urging his hips closer with the most sinful sounds. “S-soooo fucking badly.”

Just draaaaawling out his agonizing groan as he shovels his thickened shaft between your pussylips. Without warning, he’s then pressing both hands upon either side of your legs, pushing them even wider open. 

You yelp, “Satoru-”

And then with you pinned down to the mattress, Gojo reels his slender hips back to thrust and thrust his raging hot cock into your pussy. “Gonna fuck you now…” The globular red edge of his shaft kisses your entrance and starts stretching the first resistance of your hole. Starts bending his curvaceous inches inside you. “Gonna fill the introitus- fill her up with my cock.” Starts making your walls immediately clench at the sudden intrusion. 

His jaw falls slightly apart at the feeling of being sucked inside by you, your slick orifice plugged up with his length. “Gonna fill her up with my kid—” Just letting his furious cock get one taste. 

One of his inches pushed inside your cunt. 

Just one.

Before Gojo’s throwing his head back with a cracked wh-whimper.

Before his entire body shudders.

Before his entire cock seems to zap with a carnal electricity.

And you’re feeling the hot sensation of something slatherin’ at your pussylips, raising onto your elbows to look between your legs. And the sight you’re seeing- fuck, it’s a pure white mess at your core and puddling onto the expensive silk sheets below.

He was cumming.

Just from that.

Your eyes widen, “Satoru, you’re already-”

“Fuck.” Gojo breathes out, head now pushing into the crook of your neck. Something warm and wet falls on top of your skin- and only then do you realize that Gojo Satoru was sobbing at the mere feeling of your pussy surrounding his cock. “F-fuck, I can’t believe…”

His creamy cum was spilling out in surges, drawing vertical lines between the crevice of your pussy in some lecherous pattern. Incessantly. Hotly. He’s webbing up your puffy folds and thumpin’ his rotund tip between your cunt to smear them. Lines upon lines. Layers upon layers. 

Like he couldn’t stop himself no matter how urgently he’s reaching a hand up to squeeze at his thickened base. “Sh-shit, s’not stopping.” The nerdy man babbles away, white-knuckling at his swollen cock in order to try and plug himself up - but it doesn’t work. He’s even pulling back a bit to move his thumb on top of his leaky divot. And he’s still not stopping. “Shit, I can’t control myself. Your tunica mucosa- your pussy just feels too good.”

“You’re s-still cumming…” You whine.

“Too good.”

He’s just dribbling out hot cum, creating an ivory gloss over your folds that drips around your thighs.

Gojo feels the wetness of it seep into his abs and pulls away from your neck, looking up at you with his teary gaze. He snaps his eyes down to the white sap that smears out of you and moans. Voice cracking at the back of his throat any time he’s shoving his honed hips between yours. “C-can I go again to your womb this time, my girl?”

You’re just about to open your mouth to answer when-

“Now now, Satoru…”

“Yer fucked if you think you’re getting her all night.” A familiar, gruff tone spits. “Especially after that embarrassment of a performance.”

You’re turning your head to the side of the bed - to the two men that watched from chairs facing the bed.

Geto Suguru.

Ryomen Sukuna.

3. Ryomen Sukuna.

Frat boy™ (leader of Curses Epsilon)

Probably REALLY good in bed

On his way to become a pro wrestler (headlocks omg??)

Might be rough…

Ryomen Sukuna had just gotten off from practice when Geto had called him.

And he can’t lie - he hadn’t exactly felt like answering the phone then. The two weren’t exactly what you’d consider friends, but neither were they not friends. Sukuna kept his circle close, you see—only his brother, his nephew.

Though recently there had been the development of a certain little someone. Sukuna had noticed you at one of his wrestling matches by chance, and ever since then it seems that he couldn’t stop noticing you. At his parties. At their fundraisers. At lecture halls that Sukuna purposefully took the long route to pass by - just to get a glimpse of you.

And he’d been considering asking you to be Curses Epsilon’s sweetheart, but that was neither here nor there!

Geto Suguru wasn’t someone that Sukuna would dub himself acquainted with to even that extent. His rock band sometimes performed at the infamous parties Sukuna threw, and it wasn’t really usual for him to call Sukuna outside of this.

But fuck was he glad he’d picked up the phone that day.

Because that was what got him here with you.

Snuck into his frat house. Laid out on his king-sized bed. 

Your eyes locked with his—

Sukuna’s cock throbs between his legs at the ruined expression on your face, and he’s immediately feeling a rush of jealousy at the white-haired man. Snapping his narrowed gaze to the other, “Such a pretty gal begging for you ta breed her and you embarrass yerself like this?”

“Sh-she just feels too good.” Gojo lovingly gazes at your overspilling cunt. Before looking at the frat president again, “You wouldn’t understand.”

Sukuna hates this man even more.

“O—okay, how about we don’t look like we’re gonna beat each other up, hm?” Geto’s silky tone breaks through the saturated air, and you’re squirming at the way his rings glint in the dim lighting.

He’s noticing the slight movement instantly, gaze flicking between you and his fingers. Realization splashes across his face, and the next time he speaks it’s with his voice dipped just a bit. “Oh, you’re a naughty girl, aren’t you? But you want that pussy to be treated like a princess?”

Gojo gapes as you nod, “M-maybe…”

“No need to be shy, gorgeous.” Geto hums, drawing even closer to you. “We’re all friends here.”

The mattress dips just a little bit as he sits down on the edge of the bed, his ringed fingers reaching out and dragging across the sheen of white covering your calves by now.

Geto lets the slick coating form on his fingers, smearing it on the tips of his digits. “Mmm, what a waste. Don’t you know that a princess is supposed to orgasm before she’s pumped full of cum, Satoru?” Tutting.

Somehow, you always did think that your closest friend would be the type to drag sex out for hours. To drive you numb with pleasure, to be so sweet—at least, his words were.

And even Gojo seemed to be quietening down his grumbling to listen, the only other sounds in the air being the plapping! of him still trying to rover his blushin’ cocktip even deeper. “W-well…”

“And don’t you know that a princess is supposed to be teased before she’s fucked?” His amethyst eyes seem to glow with amusement, and something else. Something…darker. “You’ve gotta make her cry first.”

Oh.

A primal shudder rips right through you.

Not sweet. Definitely not sweet.

You’re whining after his elongated syllables, “Please-” Tears spurting up to your eyes when Geto forcefully grabs ahold of Gojo’s slender hips and bodily pulls him backwards. Both hands positioned on the other man’s hips, keeping his throbbing cock warming inside your walls for a few seconds before puuuuuushing inside you again. He manages to fill you up in a way like you’ve never been before, his smooth shaft filling your every orifice. “P-please, Satoru-”

“Like that.” Geto hums, “Hard. Long.”

And Gojo gapes at the way you seem absolutely ruined beneath him, “I didn’t even realize…” 

“Mhmm, at this rate we’re never getting her pregnant.” Geto rolls his murky eyes, nails digging into Gojo’s hips once more. “Now more.”

“What?”

“Move.”

Your lashes flutter open at the way the long-haired man commands the other.

Geto’s tone was just so steely, and all it takes is a single word to make Gojo Satoru pull out of you. His long cock bobbing between his meaty thighs, tuggin’ out with the most lecherous squelch!

A wadded up web of cum follows him as he does so, connecting his irritated tip to your cunt still. Just red-hot and drippin’ with your slick syrup. At the sight of it, Gojo looks as if he already regrets his decision - but moves over to let Geto take his place anyway.

And both roughened hands - much, much rougher than Gojo’s, with so many years of training those fingers in his punk-rock band - press-press-preeeeeess your jittery thighs open. Firm. Unyielding, even as you whine at the stretch. Geto’s throwing his silky hair over his shoulder, sinking onto the carpeted floor at the foot of the bed. 

His knees hit it with two loud thuds!

“And what’d you think you’re doing up there, hm?” In an almost bored tone, Geto raises a brow at his best friend seated still on the bed. In a split-second, he’s grabbing onto the back of Gojo’s flushed neck and dragging him down onto the floor as well.

Side by side.

Gojo yelps as he’s brought ever-closer to your open legs. “What do you think you’re-”

“Teaching you how to eat a pussy properly, duh.” As if it should be obvious, Geto rolls his eyes. “This pretty princess deserves better than your sloppy self.”

With your elbows resting on the springy mattress, you peer over at the two men who nudged their faces closer to your drippin’ wet pussy. Both their eyes gleaming in excitement the nearer they were- it’s almost as if they were fighting for purchase between there.

Each one lightly shoving the other-

“Spit on her pussy, Satoru.” Geto’s sing-song voice was dark.

Gojo’s eyes widen, “Wh-what do you-”

“Spit. On. Her. Pussy.” Geto throws his long locks over his shoulder and smiles, “Right into her pretty hole- but if you make a mess that’s even better.”

“Why would I wanna make a mess?” Gojo huffs, nose crinkling cutely. 

“Virgin.” Geto titters.

The blue-eyed man looks up to meet your eyes- and flushes. Puckering his lips up nervously, they tremble just a little as he somehow drips out a line of slick on top of your cunt.

And Geto only looks down to appraise the mess he’s made, his chunkily ringed fingers swirlin’ the glaze with the front of his thumb. “Mm, I could’ve done better.”

They were both so fucking hard.

Geto turns back to you now, eagerly waiting. “See this tongue, gorgeous?” Unhinging his jaw, he lets his loooong and lavish tastebuds stick out for you to see. Slicked with watery saliva. Studded with a silver tongue piercing in the middle of it. “See it? S’what I’m gonna ruin you with- watch and learn, Satoru. Watch and learn…”

And you’re hearing it before you’re feeling it. Seeing it. 

The slurp of Geto’s slick tongue shoving between your sultry folds - just lengthy lines licked back and forth on your slit. He doesn’t speed up. He doesn’t act ravenous. Lingering his orbed piercing against every spot he can reach inside of you- no matter how much you’re restlessly squirming above him, he doesn’t go harder. Just light and fleeting.

Rubbing his ridged tastebuds against every orifice, sucking up Gojo’s ivory sap, letting his tongue juuuuust fill up your tight hole before fishing out- 

Making the other man balk, “H-hey!” His best friend was just making a mess of you, with his tongue lappin’ over the coats of cum that he’d poured out on your cunt. “That’s not fair- the seminal fluid is supposed to go inside the vaginal canal in order for internal fertilization to-”

Geto lazily cracks open an eye at him.

Before grabbing Gojo by the back of his throat and shoving him nose-deep into your cunt as well.

“Then do something about it.” He smiles.

Both of them had their greedy mouths open against your pussy.

Tongues flopping out and thrashin’ maddeningly against your cunt - Gojo’s a little longer than Geto’s, but Geto’s with his frigid piercing in the middle that scraped into your every orifice. It’s as if you were suddenly surrounded by the ridged texture of their tastebuds, until you couldn’t tell which one was which. Every sweet spot. Every fold. Dual tips aching to claim every inch of you. 

And while Geto slipped against your clit, Gojo was just craving to stuff his tongue inside your hole-

“Ngh—” His nose crinkles cutely a little as he whimpers, “D-don’t take up too much space now, Suguru.”

“You’re in my space, Satoru.” As if to prove his point, he presses the cold knob of his piercing right against your clit. “Don’t forget who knew her first. Now stop moving those lips and focus on- hers.” 

Gojo glares but doesn’t say anything more, only nudging the other man by his shoulder for more space. There’s a slight battle in the space between your legs- only drawing both men closer n’ closer to your cunt.

Gojo had his mouth plastered to your sopping cunt, lavishly licking into every orifice. And Geto- oh, Geto was doing the exact opposite.

Because while the nerdy boy was giving you everything that you wanted, Geto was pinching meanly at your clit and draaaaagging your cute nub until you felt like crying. Neglecting your clit when it felt like you were enjoying it too much. 

They were sliding over each other and making out messily with your pussy—and each other. 

“Tch- gay as hell.” Sukuna’s grumbling tone echoes, closer than you remember it. The sudden volume of it makes you look up with a jolt- only to realize that he was looming at the head of the bed. Looming right where you were.

Gojo spits out into your pussy, “Erm- bi, actually.”

“Does it look like I give a fuck?” 

Ryomen Sukuna has had enough.

He takes in the way that Geto and Gojo were shoved between your legs rabidly. Barely even paying attention to him. Barely even breathing- and he admits his mouth waters just a little imagining just how sweet your cunt tasted…

But he’s instead focusing his attention on another pair of lips.

“I didn’t come here ta get fuckin’ cucked.” Sukuna rumbles, his meaty thighs resting on the space of mattress beside your head. The sole reason that Geto and Gojo had chosen Sukuna’s room in the first place was because of his king-sized bed. And you were damn lucky that it could fit all four of you. “So…”

You flinch. 

“No need to be scared, mama, s’just me.” He’s patting his overlarge palm on top of your head, smoothing down your sweaty scalp. “And my ah- ‘friends’ here told me that a pretty gal like you wanted to be bred, hm? S’that true?”

You’re nodding through your tears, body twitching any time Gojo’s tongue curved just right. “Mhm- yes, fuck yes.”

“Bred by me you mean.” Gojo sputters out, drunken eyes turning up at Sukuna.

“Fuckin’ loser.” Sukuna sniffs, his prominent nose crinkling in distaste at the white-haired man. 

But he’s setting his crimson sights back on you, smirk only seeming to grow at the awe on your face - ogling just how large the other man was. He was on a scholarship for wrestling, or so you’d heard…“So s’true, huh? Ya came here to be bred? What a filthy fuckin’ giiiiirl—”

Squirming restlessly, Geto was now starting to circle the nub of your clit with his ringed fingers and it was leaving your body in a tizzy. Every wadded ounce of cum that Geto was licking out of you, Gojo was shoving back in with his flexible tip. Refusing to let any of his seed go to waste- they were just so sloppy. Kissin’ you open-mouthed. Again and again. Both nose tips bustling against your puffy clit, their tongues slickly sliding against each other and shoving in alternating paces. Gojo’s hard and fast. Geto’s agonizingly thorough. 

You whine, “Was just- hck! needy-”

“Oh I know all about how needy you are, woman.” Sukuna’s hands drop to the drawstrings of his sweatpants. “But do you even know my name?”

“Of course I do.” Your brows furrow, “You’re Ryomen Sukun—mmpf.”

Before Sukuna’s tugging down on the cottony hem of his pants and letting his raging erection smack! against his firm abs. Thick length. Drivelling tip. If you thought that Gojo was big, then Sukuna was just as big if not bigger…

An even more sultry number of veins that were overtaking the sides of his shaft - and now your mouth. He fits inside. He was so fucking hard that you could count each ravenous ba-dump! of his pulsations, shovelling and shoveling away-

“M-mmmpf—” You’re letting out muffled moans at the rough use of your mouth. Sukuna’s length seemed like it was never-ending. The tannish crown of his shaft finds the cute orifice of your mouth and opens away at your lips, wider and wider with every inch. Hips moving in solid, mean thrusts-

He snickers,“No, my name is Ryomen Sukuna. You don’t even know that, mama?”

“Mmm—” Letting out sinful noises at the feeling of his fat ball sack smacking against the side of your face with each of his movements, just so full with need for you. “Please-” You sob out - the only thing you can seem to sob out. “P-please-”

“Nuh uh, not that either.” He was having way too much fun with this. Plunging his thickened erection out and using the length to spank each side of your face. “Try again.”

“Ryo- oh.” But just as you’re trying to speak, Sukuna’s flooding your hot cavern with his salty tip once more. Almost as if he was chasing the vibrations of your voice, almost as if he was waiting for you to speak just so he can watch your pretty sentences break on his cock. 

He grins from above, head cocking to the side to take in the lovely sight. “Tryyyy again—”

“Ryo- mmpf.” You’re gulping down his swollen inches - fuck, Sukuna was even thicker than he looked. Somehow filling up every orifice inside your mouth, it felt as if he was reaching for the dangly lil’ thing in the back of your throat and then even further. 

Just slurp after slurp of his vicious hips movin’ back and forth.

He’s tightening his grip on the back of your head and humming. “Breathe with your nose, mama. Breathe with your nose.” The audacity to even act like he cares when he swabs the very back of your neck aggressively, “Relax that pretty throat f’me. Heh.” Just waiting until your airway was fully free, just waiting until you’d somewhat calmed down- before he’s arching his hips and slamming his puckered red tip inside. “Now that your voicebox knows me- try to say my name? Do you know my name?”

“R-Ryooo—” You’re gurgling through your spit and tears, “Ryo- ngh- men. Sukuna.”

“Atta girl.”

“Sukuna?” Gojo flinches as if he’d just been struck by lightning. 

“Hm?” Geto peeks his eyes open as well, only to find that the pink-haired man had very much made himself at home pumpin’ away into your mouth. His velvety length stuffing your small cavern open. “It seems, Satoru, that we have some competition.”

Gojo growls, nipping at your folds meanly in his possessiveness. “Oi…who the fuck do you think you are blocking her cute air tract with your nasty fucking-”

But Geto only smiles with your slick glistening on his lips, “May the best man get to breed her cunt first.”

And you’re confused for only a split-second before there’s a sudden spike of pressure - from both ends.

From Gojo and Geto who were thrusting their tongues inside your cunt, from Sukuna who was never one to back down from a challenge. And he’s looking over at the two men who were bickering but suddenly united, and plastering both paws on top of your scalp to thrust inwards.

Letting his slick, drivellin’ tip hit the roof of your mouth and make you moan—

“Suguru-” Gojo hisses.

But Geto was already on it- Geto was already fiddling with his chunky metal rings to transfer them all onto his right hand. “Mmm, don’t you worry now, Satoru. I’ll teach you.” With his goal finally accomplished, he’s hooking his fingers against your folds and pryin’ them apart. “First, you’ve gotta tease the princess.”

He’s spitting inside your hole and thrusting his middle finger inwards.

Swirlin’ around your velvety channel for a few seconds before pulling back out when you start clenching- “S-Suguru…” Your voice echoes from above, and both men look towards you with primal eyes. 

Geto cocks his head at Gojo, “See?”

“I-I see.” The other man looks as if he was on the verge of writing this all down.

“Then you’ve gotta- hah, take your time. Like this.”

“Like—oh.” You’re cut off by him sticking his finger back in. Letting his wet muscle expand and circle around your walls, his rings pokin’ away, a few times before edging back out.

“See?” Geto rasps, one of his thumbs pushin’ aside your folds to show your entrance off to the other man. “Look how she’s- hah, clenching like she wants to suck me back. You’ve gotta make her want it badly- s’fun to tease a pussy.”

Gojo nods eagerly.

“And for my last trick-” Oh, by the way he says it you already know that it doesn’t bode well for your sanity. The thickness of two fingers were now stretching your hole out wiiiiidely before running back out, thrusting in and out. In and out. In and out.

Probin’ with his silver rings near sweet spots that you didn’t even realize you had before.

At the same time, Geto runs his straight nose bridge down the line of your slit and ends up pressing on your clit. Just not enough pressure to satiate you, just enough pressure to make you sob out—“Fuck, stop teasing, Suguru.”

“And that’s how you treat a princess.”

Meanly.

“Let me.” Gojo gulps. His mouth waters at the milky display of your slick and his cum around Geto’s mouth, he shoves Geto aside with a muscular shoulder. “Let me.”

And it’s the last thing you’re seeing - that look of utter greed on Gojo’s face - before the white-haired man leans himself in reaaaaal close to your pussy. He’s nudging his straight nose bridge between your plump folds and ending up pressing down on your clit, letting his watery tastebuds swing out and-

And then Gojo Satoru was eating you out like a madman.

Geto had scooped out the wads of his best friend’s cum, and Gojo’s moaning at the mess that gushes around his mouth and onto his pinkish tastebuds. Blue irises sprinting to the back of his skull, raw lips falling agape. Geto’s breath hitches as he notices the change immediately- “Wait, Satoru, you’re going to-”

“M’going to breed her again.” Gojo spits out, “S’gonna be me not him-”

He was going to say that Gojo was going to forget how to breathe if he went on like this - but he gets the feeling that his best friend doesn’t even want to breathe right now…

Doesn’t want to do anything but grab onto either side of your thighs and shove himself even deeper. His fat tongue slipping out and smacking! against your pussy, his tastebuds searching any and every corner for a taste of you, his pussy-muddled brain not even knowing what he’s doing as he’s thrusting and thrusting.

Face pushing until the rim of his glasses pressed up against your pussy and he didn’t even see to realize—

“O-oh, fuck.” You’re gurgling out in a shrill tone, and Geto looks on at your pretty expressions in interest. “S’going in so deep. Satoru, you’re just so needy-”

Sukuna raises a brow, “Heeeeh?”

“Yeah, so fuckin’ needy, Satoru.” Geto repeats in his smoky tone, eyeing both of your feverish motions with interest. Gojo was face-down in your pussy and lapping at your cunt with a primal wildness, pinning down your squirming hips. Any time that your restless body tries to move away, he’s draaaagging you down to drag across his pretty face, he sticks his tongue so rapidly in and out of you that his tongue is nothing but a pinkish blur.

Completely the opposite of Geto’s mean, torturous methods. 

And, well, he can’t fall behind now, can he?

Without warning, the dark-haired man reaches his hand to shove not one- not two- but three of his ringed fingers down your tight channel.

Gojo startles at the intrusion and moves-

“Ah ah.” Geto murmurs, grabbing him by the back of the neck and shoving him into your wet cunt once more. “Stay.”

His nose glidin’ down your slit, furiously rubbing and rubbing his textured tastebuds against it until you’re opening up more for Geto. Inside it. Anywhere and everywhere. 

Geto was absolutely pummelling your cunt with his fingers now, while Gojo moved onto sucking your clit as if it was his favorite candy. “Mmm—-Sug…Satoru.” Moans meshing into one, as if you didn’t even know what to utter. “It feels so- oh.”

“So what?” Sukuna scoffs, reaching down to smack your right tit. “Don’t test me now, mama. Don’t make me- hngh, shut you up proper with my cock.” 

He’s grabbing one of your hardened nipples and pinching at the peak in a way that makes you whine- “Kuna- Kuna- Kuna-”

“Yeahhh, that’s more like it. Keep saying my name- until you memorize it. Until you memorize my fuckin’ cock.”

“Suguru, do something.” Poor, inexperienced Gojo can merely watch as his pretty girl’s taken over by the pink-haired man once more. He’s flicking furiously at your bundle of nerves- and yet you couldn’t do anything but out muffled whimpers with Sukuna’s hot cock shoved into your mouth. “My girl’s been- ngh, won over-”

“Your girl?” Geto raises one brow, but looks up at you anyways.

Fuck, this angle between your legs was just perfect - he could see the way that your throat expanded and outlined the sheer thickness of Sukuna’s girth. Just so massive that every thrust had his cylindrical intrusion bulging against your neck. Again and again.

And he can’t help but catch Sukuna’s red eyes, cocking his head over. He gestures—straddle her.

A signal that the other men understands instantly.

A sinful smile spreads across Sukuna’s lips, “I like the way you think, punk-rock.”

And Gojo can only watch, slack-jawed, as the wrestler pulls his fat cock out of your mouth and tap-tap-taps the tip on your tongue a few times. Letting your pretty lips water just a bit - just enough to wet your tastebuds enough - before he’s moving over your head in one fluid motion until. Before he’s behind your head completely.

Before his rude hips plummet his inches between your lips.

You’re moaning so loud-

The vibrations zipping up from his honed cockhead and up his spine. “Fuck- didn’t know such a sweet mouth could even make a sound like that.” Sukuna’s grumbling underneath his breath, fucking gnawing down on his bottom lip to keep from making too many noises himself. “Now I get why those two bastards are obsessed with you, ma.”

Thrusting away wildly, Gojo pulls away with a gasp. “Suguru, you traitor-”

“Easy there, easy there.” The other man breezes, giggling at the cutesy way your body lurches back and forth with Sukuna’s jackhammers.

You flinch as you feel something metallic and cold plunge into your deepest, deepest depths—hitting almost near your g-spot. Geto hums, “And that goes for you, too, gorgeous.” He gives you a vulgar few strokes of his fingertips, reaching for your sweet spot every time. And yet- still not reaching it, he was teasing you until you wanted to sob. “Did you know that I play bass?”

“I did know- I do.” You cry out.

“Then, you probably know…” A final thrust - all the way from the curvaceous edge of his middle, his index, his ring finger and doooown to each ringed base - that sets your teeth on edge. “-that I’m real good with the g-spot. Whoops, I mean-”

Somehow between Sukuna’s vicious thrusts you manage out, “S-Suguru—” Because just then, he’s shoving your velvety walls apart to push against your softest spot in an instant.

“-yeah no. I meant g-spot.”

“Heeeeeh…” Sukuna whistles, “You’re good.” Watching as the dark-haired man then utterly ruins you with a mere few movements of his fingers, they’re finding each tender spot inside you perfectly. Rings being used to mark exactly where and when Geto was thrusting away - but no matter what, he always ended with his frigid rings pushed against your g-spot. Purposefully glidin’ those geometrical edges of his rings against your sensitive nerves- “But I’m better.”

“Kuna, oh my god—” You babble out as he uses both hands to grab onto your tits now, his long fingers pinching your nipples and rolling them between each padded digit.

It was just insanity.

Geto with his globular fingertips finding your g-spot again and again, Sukuna with his hot cock filling you up again and again- and Gojo. Oh…Gojo was just gluing his pouty lips against your entrance.

Geto’s tongue meeting his in an open-mouthed kiss, the white-haired man pulls away- only to latch onto that pretty perky clit above your hole. “S-say my name, too, sweetheart.” You can just barely hear Gojo’s plead over the cacophony of other sultry noises filling up the room, “Say my name-”

You can just barely feel the sharp spark of pleasure coming from Gojo finding your clit and sucking. Like his life depended on it. “Say my name while you cum.” His pale brows furrow, and every luxurious lick at your cunt was all that he ever needed in life, all that made him glide his glasses down your front pussy. All that it took to make you mooooan straight into Sukuna’s cock. “Say m-my name while you cum, please?” At least he had manners still.

Before your entire body erupts in a high so sudden and strong that you don’t even realize it’s taken over until after Gojo himself comments on it- “She’s cumming.” He breathes out, almost in disbelief. Gojo feels his cock twitch at the way you’re cumming on his tongue- and reaches his free hand down to fist it angrily. “She’s cumming she’s—mmpf.”

“If she’s cumming then fuck her through her orgasm instead of running yer big mouth.” Geto grabs the back of his best friend’s neck and shoves him in again - which Gojo was glad to indulge in. Glad to gnaw on the knob of your little clit, until his lips felt so raw that they might as well fall off. 

And while Gojo made out with your pussy, Geto was fingering you crazily. His honed fingertips plucked at your bliss, hitting your g-spot precisely at every peak. Again and again.

“L-like this, Suguru?” Gojo gurgles out.

“Mhm, faster.”

They’re speeding up- Gojo letting go of his cock just to delve in even deeper, and Geto has to be the one to pump his best friend’s length.

You sob, “Satoru—mmmpf.”

“Shit, maybe you two bastards aren’t half-bad.” Sukuna muses, a pinkish brow raising at just how much you moaned and thrashed underneath the two men. His hips only grew faster.

All three men were absolutely ravishing you through your high, those little sparks of pleasure going up from your pummeled cunt to your pummeled throat. “Mmm—” Just about the only thing that you’re ever going to be able to get out at this rate, “Feels- good- ngh- good-”

“Yeah, but which one’s yer favorite, mama?” Sukuna spits. Nestling his heavy balls against your face while he shoves his cockhead lung-deep-

“At least let her finish her orgasm first.” Gojo seethes, his glasses completely fogged by now.

“Yer too fucking nice.” Sukuna bites back, “She likes being all roughed up, doesn’t she?”

“No, she likes indulgent-”

And they’re both speeding up their ministrations, Gojo going craaaaazy with the heart patterns he was drawing on your clit while Sukuna twisted his fingers even harder over your nipples. You’re practically held hostage by the pleasure.

And the only thing you can do is ride out wave after wave of your bliss, still being absolutely demolished from all angles by the three men when it’s finally starting to peter out.

You twitch, “S-Suguru—”

Because you knew that the pierced man would be the only one much too happy to stop you from getting what you need - but you’re surprised to find…that Geto merely shrugs you off with a grin. The one overstimulating you with his fingers until you’re crying-

“Keh…” Sukuna eyes the sobs you’re heaving out, though he doesn’t stop himself. He’s pumping out a few wads of creamy white, before pressing a thumb on top of his shaft to stop himself from releasing too much before he actually got to breed you. “Don’t make her tap out just yet.”

“Suguru…”

But he doesn’t stop.

He doesn’t even slow down until you’re being probed by his sultry fingertips all the way until a second orgasm. It flashes through you like a sudden fever, your entire body breaking out in a cold sweat.

Jaw dropping.

Back arching off of the mattress. 

You’re so sensitive by this point that even the lightest graze of Gojo’s canines against your clit makes you whimper n’ whine. Great heaving tears making their way down your cheeks, you’re nothing against the three sets of strong arms that hold you down so they could properly eloooongate your zapping pleasure.

And Geto Suguru doesn’t stop until he’s well and thoroughly fucked you through each mountain of your electrified high, and perhaps even all the way into a third-

“Aaaaand that’s enough outta you.”

“Yeah-” Gojo huffs, his pout pretty on his lips. “-you don’t get to hog her orgasms all for yourself, Suguru.”

Geto gives a final long liiiiiick with his pierced tongue.

Your brain is all muddled and stupid by the time that Geto with his love for overstimulating you is pulled off. You’re pushed further up the sweat-dampened mattress, sandwiched between Gojo and Sukuna from either side.

“So…” Sukuna asks, “Who won?”

“Me- she moaned my name-” Gojo grumbles up at the man. You whine at the way both their toned cores surround you, it’s as if you were a ragdoll they wanted to play around with. 

“Yeah right, you had first dibs.” Sukuna scowls, eyes narrowing into slits. “And ya ruined it. Now I get to fuck her pretty pussy-”

“How about me, gorgeous?” Geto wasn’t waiting around to argue with his friends - he was cupping your dazed face and asking you directly. But you were so damn far gone that you couldn’t even begin to formulate a coherent response before-

“No, Suguru.”

“Fuck no.”

.

.

.

You were right about Ryomen Sukuna being rough.

Because he was fucking you rough. And hard. And fast.

And ruthless.

It seems that the winner of last round’s ‘challenge’ had been none other than Gojo Satoru - based on the fact that his name had been the first one you’d moaned during your first orgasm. Perhaps his accolades as president of the debate club wasn’t just in name…

They’d unanimously decided that Geto Suguru, the traitor, wasn’t deserving of fucking you after that little stunt he’d pulled earlier. Overstimulating you until tears—how could he! Without both of them, of course…

And so Gojo had left you in your stupidly fucked state.

Merely hovering over you- the tips of his ears red, the head of his cock dripping wet already. He’d pressed just about half of his swollen shaft between your pussylips before - expectedly - cumming again in less than two strokes.

He just couldn’t handle the feeling of your hot cunt. Just the sensation of you throbbin’ away around him like that was too much for the bespectacled nerd to handle, his entire body shaking as he spurted his white seed all over your pussylips. Hot and syrupy, it dripped all over you and down onto the sheets below. Pink lips jutted out when he felt himself reach his high again, “I…I did it again, sweetheart.” He’d told you, shamefully.

And you’d barely gotten two comforting words out- “It’s alright, Toru—”

Before Sukuna had shoved him over.

“My fuckin’ turn.”

And now you were laid out against Sukuna’s chiselled back, feeling each ripped muscle move n’ flex against your own. Vicious. Vulgar. He was heaving after each thrust, he was hitting the very spongy end of your cervix, he was bending your back against his front—a hand scouring down your front to feel his cylindrical length impale you-

A full fucking nelson.

By none other than the wrestling star himself.

“A star player—fuck.” Sukuna’s raspy voice whispers into your ear, hooking his pointed chin at your shoulder and preventing you from moving a single inch away from him. Thud-thud-thud, his rotund tip could be felt all the way against your scratchy throat. And you swear you could taste the salty flavor of his gooey liquids. “M’gonna fuck a s-star athlete into you, woman- the best junior wrestling champion this world has ever seen.”

Gojo surges up from his chair in the corner - the one Geto and Sukuna had been sitting in earlier in the night. “She hasn’t even taken yet-”

“Ah ah- what’s that?” Sukuna interrupts between thrust after thrust. He looks around as if he’d just heard an indistinguishable noise from somewhere in the room, “What- oh.”

And you’re watching speechlessly when Sukuna’s honed fingertips slither down your front to squeeze your clit. 

“It’s this pussy begging me to get her pregnant-” His pinkish brow raises, “Oh- the best Olympic wrestler this world has ever seen? How ambitious, mama.”

Gojo spits, “Fucker-”

“You hear something?” And Sukuna was taunting him - Sukuna was playing right in Gojo’s face. His big beefy arms looping underneath your thighs and giving them a forceful tug- he’s spreading your limbs out as far as they’d go.

Making your soppin’ wet pussylips smeaaaar wide open and making the other two men throw envious looks your way. “Sounds like a little bitc-”

“Oh, please—” You’re bucking through your sobs. A particularly aggressive stroke has you damn near jumping out of his arms- but Sukuna’s only tightening his grip and bringing you riiiight back down to feel his cock. 

You weren’t escaping any time soon.

“C’mere, woman.” His tone was almost a warning, speaking down to you as if you were dumbified on his cock already—and you were close. Oh, were you close. The wrestler’s cock was just so thiiiick that his veins massage your tiniest orifices without even trying. Long glides. Hard throbs. “How m’I going to- heh, fuck you pregnant if you keep trying to run?”

“Well…”

He continues, “In the first place, you don’t think you can run from a wrestler, can you?”

Blinking your wide teary eyes up at him, “I can’t…?”

And it was almost too cute how stupid you were on his pistoning hips already, mouth splashing out saliva every time he was hittin’ a gooood spot inside you. Sukuna chuckles, “No, you can’t.” As if to prove his point, he holds you down to his glissading abs and swabs your wettened cervix. “But ya sure can fuckin’ try- ya won’t make two steps before I have you on my cock again.”

“Well that’s just n-not fair—” You’re trilling out at the way he bends you just a liiiiittle further against him. Both hands gripped primally onto your hips and not letting you get too far.

Not letting you get far at all, actually. You can barely even breathe without Sukuna bouncing your body right back and knockin’ the wind out of your lungs with his puckered tip. “Ya can’t handle it if I bend you a little like thiiiiiis—”

“F-fuck!” Sobbing at the way he further spreads your legs, bringing them up until the caps of your knees were striking your tits.

“And then just a little like thiiiiiis—” Sukuna arches his hips lightly off the dampened sheets to rover his cocktip inside. Arching you against him.

Ryomen Sukuna loved manhandling you.

“Oh my g-god-” It’s just about the only thing you can blubber out, your sentences hitching in your throat. “Shit, I didn’t even know I could bend like this…”

“Why’re you crying, mama?” Sukuna coos, though there was something decidedly dangerous in his tone. Almost as if in alarm, your pussy starts throbbing harder and he snickers as he feels it- one of his roughened thumbs come to wipe away at your tears.

“It’s j-just-”

“It’s j-j-just the entire future of wrestling that depends on this pussy right here.” He’s mocking you. He’s teasing you. Not in the same way that Geto would - Sukuna had you immobile and was bullying you with both his mouth and his rugged, roverin’ tip. 

His plump cockhead gapes out your cute hole, ending up in your deepest depths. He manages to leave you jolting after the pressure of each one. And after that bulbous intrusion then his inches just seem to go on and on and on—“S’a biiiig deal, mama. So you understand why I hafta fuck you a little ngh- rough, riiiight? So you understand why I hafta wrestle you a little, riiiight?”

Until you can feel Sukuna bash away even at your throat-

So hard that your eardrums almost pop- “It just feels so-”

Only to get overshadowed by the slurping squelches of your own cunt. Which only makes the pink-haired man grin, “There. It’s been decided then.”

“What are you…” Your dazed eyes widen, looking up into his rouge ones for an answer.

But the only answer he’s listening to? The background music of your pussy. 

Sukuna’s nodding in agreement with the slick wet sounds that escape you, even more of it increasing in volume once he lets his precum fill you up to the very brim. Dripping past your pussylips, “Now now-” For only a few split-seconds before one set of Sukuna’s rugged fingertips swipe the syrup back in. “-none of that. That’s at least a couple million yen you’re losing there, girl. If m’fuckin’ it inside ya then keep it inside ya.”

You quiver, zaps of electricity floating through you when he reaches down and pinches your throbbing clit. “And i-if I can’t…?”

“As my son’s manager, I can’t have that.”

He was picking and choosing management opportunities already?!

You see, the King of the Ring was hellbent on fucking you right - on getting his seed to be the one that took inside your sopping wet walls.

He was fucking you like he meant it - he was going to complete that mission one way or the other. He was drilling into you with a primal cadence, bulbous tip press-press-pressing inside to swab away at your every single orifice—

You’re jerking on top of him at the pleasure, and Sukuna’s immediately putting you in a headlock.

Gojo surges up to his feet in outrage.

But the fraternity president wasn’t paying the other men a single ounce of attention- merely tightening his bulging biceps around your neck. Leaving you nothing but a limp ragdoll for him to pump his inches into, thick and hot at the thought of impregnating you. “And as his father-” Sukuna shoots you a cocky smirk that the other two can see, “-m’not letting you walk out of this bedroom without carrying my child.”

He throbs inside you and you whimper.

“Suguru, I can’t stand this-” Gojo’s taking a step closer, chair damn near clattering to the ground.

He was donning his boxers for now, though his best friend was naked and proudly pumping his cock at the sight of Sukuna fucking you like a crazed man. Hard and fast. Hard and fast.

Soft pants leave the bassist’s mouth, throwing his head back with a grown as he watches Sukuna reach down and pinch your clit. He’s peeking ahead at the sight with a partially-cracked lid, “Satoru, give me my phone.”

Gojo’s brows raise, “What?”

“Give me my phone.”

It’s in quick, jerky movements that the white-haired man does. He tries not to stare too long at the moving couple in the bed but…fuck, he, too, was so damn hard at this point that he was dripping precum through his boxers.

Gojo practically shoves the phone into Geto’s arms.

He unlocks it with a chuckle and heads straight to the-

“You’re recording-”

“Shhhh…” Geto chortles, raising his camera up. “We’ve talked about it before, she’s said it’s alright. Now shut up, it’s getting to the best part.”

It really was. The video captures the scene perfectly: you’re still being manhandled in this full nelson. Draaaagged back and forth every time that Sukuna’s cock glides inside you, hitting a spot particularly delicate. 

He was just so muscular, with his cock plumpened up so much that Gojo almost wondered how you were taking all of him. Your cervix must be completely bruised by him now, and the camera manages to record how the skin ‘round his pelvis was burning red. 

Again and again and again.

The two of them were practically hypnotized by the rough way you were being fucked. Pounded, more like. The musician zooms in on the vision of your puckered lips, swollen with prolonged contact with Sukuna’s massive balls. Gooey puddles of Gojo’s cum from earlier dripping all around them. Smack-smack-smack!

It takes just a few more of those and a final pinch on your clit to make you shatter- your orgasm taking over you like a tidal wave.

White flashing behind your eyelids.

Spine arching into the perfect curvature on top of him.

Sukuna’s muscular front provides the best cushy surface for you to get lost in your high, one that leaves you limp and boneless on top of him. “P-please, Kuna…” Geto damn hopes that the audio managed to pick up your ravaged whines. “Cumming—”

“You don’t think that I don’t know that?” He hums, and you notice that his voice sounds so much more ragged than before. “Yer feeling like fuckin’ waterpark down there, woman.”

“O-oh…” Your maw drops, as if you just now realize how wet with arousal you were. Leaking all over his scruffy pink happy trail-

“Orgasm left you stupid already, huh?”

You can only mindlessly nod. 

All three men find their achin’ erections throbbing - the pink-haired man most of all with his swirlin’ tip tortured by the clenches of your orgasm. It almost pained him to pull out, even if it was to savagely thrust back in again.

And again. And again and again and again-

Geto whistles as the last few seconds of the recording capture the way that a sudden ring of white froths at your entrance. Sukuna pumping in his cum with a drawn-out groan—

The sharp tone of the video ending echoes out in the bedroom. Though you certainly couldn’t hear with the way your eardrums were popped with the pressure of his thrusts.

And Geto? Geto worked silently, as Gojo gawked behind him.

“S-send me that recording…” 

“Mhm.”

SUGONDEEZNUTS sent an attachment to ‘Juno, y’know?’

SUGONDEEZNUTS added Prof. Nanami Kento.

He clicks off the phone and enjoys the show.

“A star wrestler-” Sukuna’s spitting between his gritted canines, the edges of his lips squirking up into a vicious grin. He flattens one of his hands down on top of your core - right above where his thickened tip was plummeting into your womb.

Pushing down and you could already feel the glutinous layers of his cum start to slide around you, sploshin’ out of your hole.  It leaks out of you and he wonders just how much that much was able to fit inside because fuck—he’s cumming more than he ever has in his entire life. “Look at thaaaaat- we’re gonna have a star wrestler, mama. Better get ready, girlie, because m’gonna fuck an entire team of Olympians into you.”

“Please-” You yelp as his headlock on you tightens.

Flexing his incredible muscles against your neck, “And are you gonna run away?” It blocks every ounce of air from escaping.

“N-no…”

“Are you gonna tap out?”

“No-”

“Mmm—then how about we start thinking of the baby names-”

“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves, shall we?” Geto’s breezy voice soothes out into the saturated air. It’s not too long before you’re hearing footsteps headed to where you lay utterly muddled. “After all, there’s more of us waiting.”

You shiver.

.

.

.

Nanami Kento wasn’t having a particularly good day, no.

For starters, he’d just been informed by one of his freshman students that half the campus thought he was in his thirties already—he was a damn TA in the first place! He wasn’t even an official professor (though he did plan to be one, so perhaps they were right on that note…)

And then his morning class slept through a particularly riveting presentation on the Kamakura period, then his (totally not favorite…alright perhaps favorite) student didn’t show up for your allotted office time with him, and now he was stuck grading papers of students who couldn’t care less about shogunate lifestyles.

Or at least he was.

He was grading papers of students who couldn’t care less about shogunate lifestyles.

That’s until he got the text.

With none other than said favorite student, you, featured front and center in its contents.

Now he was walking as fast as his long legs could take him to the most infamous fraternity house on all of campus: Curses Epsilon. 

And let it be known that Professor Nanami Kento has never clocked out of the history department earlier in his entire life-

“Oh, fuh-fuck—” You’re blabbering out stupidly, tears cascading your eyes at incredible volumes. The three men inside this room just had you ruined on their cocks - Gojo hadn’t been given a chance again after his last two mishaps, Sukuna had just finished rubbin’ your pussy walls raw, and now it was Geto’s chance. Finally.

You were on all fours - bawling face pushed into Sukuna’s pillows, your ass raised high in the air. 

The bassist had his index and middle fingers pulled into two honed tips, pressin’ away at your g-spot like it was a treasure trove he was uncovering. Push-push-pushing, Geto managed to force your tired body into one more orgasm, two more orgasms, three more org-

And that was when Professor Nanami Kento had arrived.

First, he’d knocked. Sharp and sensible - the frat house door had been unlocked, you see.

And it’d been none other than Geto himself who pulled his fingers cleanly out of your cunt and walked to the door. Slurping away at the treacly mess you’d left on his fingers- “You’re late, Kento.”

With a gasp, you’re pulling the sheets up to your chest- but Gojo had stopped you in your tracks—“But I wanna stare at your pretty cunt while she leaks, sweetheart…”

“Fuckin’ needy.” Geto had thrown his silky locks over his shoulder, rolling his eyes at his best friend’s antics. Then he turns back to the blond man who was trying hard not to stare at you on the bed—but he couldn’t help the way his eyes roamed. Fuck, he was only a man after all. “You know we almost thought you weren’t coming.”

Nanami gulps at the way Geto very obviously suckles the candied glaze of your juices from his fingers. One by one. 

You whimper at the display.

“Clearly.” Nanami’s eyes then shift slowly from the man before him to you on the bed, your eyes dazed with your high, your legs clenched together. But not even that can stop the constant overflow of creamy white leaking from between them. Overspilling. “Is that why none of you have fucked her properly yet?”

Geto’s dark brows raise in amusement, “Excuse me?”

“If you’re going to get her pregnant, then do it properly.”

Everyone’s jaws drop a little at the statement the professor is giving, and Nanami only soundlessly steps inside. Letting the door close behind him.

He has only one target and one target only - you. 

The blond-haired man steps towards you with purpose, starting to shrug off that formal jacket that fit him so well—

“Hello, my darling.” Nanami sighs, “On your back now.”

4. Nanami Kento.

The HOTTEST prof/ TA this campus has ever seen

Such a gentleman (opens doors, eye contact even when wearing skimpy tops, reads feminist books omg)

Mature 

Some think he’d be dry in bed tho…

Nanami Kento was not dry in bed. Nanami Kento was not dry in bed.

Oh, how many times have you dreamed of this day? Wearing your shortest skirts to Professor Nanami’s lectures, daydreaming away just how it might feel to have him bend you over his sleek mahogany desk.

Though in no time what he was bending were really your legs. 

Right over his broad shoulders, they were folding just so pliably—he’s patting upon each side of your wobbly limbs with a hum. “Not too hard for you now, is it, my love?” You’re shaking your head, growing wetter at the nickname- and Gojo groans as he watches you. 

Nanami smiles, “Mmmm, good.” Then he’s reaching an arm out towards the headboard and grabbing one of Sukuna’s pillows.

“Wha’s that for, Nanami?” You’re blurting out stupidly.

“This?” He’s cooing down at you in a soft tone, one that’s so sweet that it makes your entire body heat up. Especially your cunt. Deciding that it would be much easier for your muddled mind to be shown instead- Nanami slides the puffy pillow underneath your hips to raise them a little. “This is for helpin’ that cute cunt of yours actually keep all the cum she’s been given. Does that make sense?”

You nod. He was just so gentle-

“You’re going to address me as ‘sir’, alright?” Fuck—you were mistaken. How did you not notice the steely look in Nanami’s eyes? How did you forget that he was known not only as the most handsome professor on campus - but also the most strict. “Now, does that make sense?”

Just barely managing to breathe, “Y-yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

Shit, it makes your orifice geyser out in more impossible wads of slick. And your back’s arching instantly the moment he tugs down his pants, and you feel Nanami’s large reddish tip enter between your legs. “Fuck, that feels so good, Ken—sir.”

“Good girl- good girl.” He’s hushing out your tiny cries, placing a soothing hand on top of your sweaty scalp. Which you thought was nice, which you thought was sweet- but you’re realizing that that gesture was actually to push down on your body and keep you from jerking away every time he was lightly plunging his cock in. Nanami presses down on your head, “We have a lot to learn now, don’t we?”

“Y-yess—oh.” Your voice cracks embarrassingly at the thick shaft that Nanami was sinking in.

You didn’t get quite as good of a look at him, but you could tell that his entire length was just a little bigger than Geto’s. Not quite as long as Gojo, but with even more veins and the prettiest tuft of golden hair on his base.

Somehow, what was special about Nanami was just how perfectly he was curved.

Just a few sultry degrees to the side. He’s managing to drag-drag-draaaaag the puckered end of his cock down your walls. Pinkish and puckered, kissin’ all at the ridges down your sides- headed straaaaaight towards your sweet spots as if he already knew where they were. “Have you done your homework, my darling?”

“H-homework?” You cry out.

“Mhm—” Nanami was easing inside your pussy with languid thrusts - and though he seemed to calm and collected on the surface, you could spot the furrow between his brows. The line of perspiration that ran down his forehead. The way his heavy balls seemed to tighten the more he slipped inside- “Have you researched the conditions best for- hah, pregnancy?”

“I…well…” You’re shyly looking away - you admit that you had done some, you hadn’t gone into this entire thing unaware. But having your history professor look at you like this just left you speechless, as though he was looking straight through you.

He’s smiling down fondly at you, “If only you spent a little longer studying instead of- mmm—” Pounding out a particularly hard thrust that leaves you seeing stars, “-instead of daydreaming about fucking me, hm?”

You gasp, “How did you-”

“Why, you’ve been dressing like a slut in my class for the entire semester, my love- how could I not know?”

And the only thing you can do is moan out like the slut he believes you were - your legs spread high on his shoulders, your pussy letting out the most filthy slurps and squelches as he’s easing inside.

Hard and thorough, Nanami’s fucking himself inside you in slashes- just grazing his honed tip against your sweetest spots. Before pulling away when you start to twitch for more, more more—

“So close-” You blubber out, “S-so close, Nana-”

“Excuse me?”

“Sir.” Correcting yourself in a single second.

It’s then that Nanami’s leaning in reeeeal close, and you’re looking up at the handsome man through your lashes. “Good girl.” What you’re presented with is a splat! of his saliva being spat down, Nanami holding open your jaw to let it slide all the way towards the back of your throat. “Now that’s to fix that dirty mouth of yours- better not make that mistake again, alright?”

Nodding, “Y-yes sir…”

“Good. Now let’s see if you did your research- let’s see if you can answer my questions, and we’ll see if you deserve to have a baby fucked into you, alright?”

“Yes, s—oh.” You’re barely even given the time to compute his sentence before your sinful examination starts. And Nanami folds you deeper in on yourself, easily rubbin’ his scorching hot tip against the very back of your cervix-

You start to shake at the feeling of his primal stretch and whine—“Now now, quiet during an examination. Or are you fucked too stupid to not even remember that, hm?” It just made you so dizzy how Nanami Kento was so stoic, sensible, sweet - and yet he had these moments where something predatory slipped beneath the cracks and left you speechless. “First question, who was it that fucked you first?”

Your head slips to the side of your pillow, locking eyes with a certain white-haired man that’d slipped his hand beneath his boxers. Lightly pumping- almost reluctantly but he just couldn’t help himself. “Satoru…”

“Hm…” Nanami inclines his head at the man, blond locks plastering on his head. “And who was it that fucked you the hardest?”

“Sukuna—” Teary eyes blinking at the fraternity president, the way his crimson eyes narrowed at the sight. “K-Kuna did.”

“And I assume that Geto Suguru was the one who was the fuckin’ filthiest?” As the other man speaks, Geto’s giggle echoes out over the question. “True or false?”

“T-True—” 

“Three correct in a row, that’s a hatrick.” His rugged thumb reaches down and glides between your pussylips, collecting the dewdrops of syrup drivelling out of you. “Well done- you deserve a little- hah, reward for that, don’t you agree?” The professor doesn’t even wait for your response before that very same digit of his presses down on your clit like a button. “Does that feel good, my love?”

And you’re so sensitive by the constant sultry assaults on your cunt, “Y-yes, so good—”

Only for Nanami’s tantalizing rolls over your clit to turn into a pinch—

“Wrong answer, darling.”

You scream out at the maddening answer, “Wh-what do you-” Head snapping up in surprise, before it’s suddenly falling back into the pillows at the surge of pleasure. You saw the look in his eyes. “I mean sir—yes, sir.”

“I fear your time is up, my love.”

“What- oh.”

And it’s the last thing you’re able to get out before- 

Before Nanami shoves both your thighs up until they’re ruthlessly hitting your tits. Before Nanami’s bending you into such a pliable shape beneath him. Before Nanami plummets straight to the deepest end of your channel to strike your cervix.

Fucking you firm. Hard. He’s mapped out every inch of you with only a few animalistic swabs, “Three out of four, that’s 75%—you did better than I could’ve hah-hoped, darling.” Blond brows raising, “Though you did make a careless mistake-”

“I’m sorry—” You’re botching out through the husky cries in your throat, “I’m sorry, sir-”

“So your final grade should come down to…” The professor trails off, his vulgar strokes thumpin’ away at your womb. Nanami shows no mercy for the bruises of his circumference he’s sure to be forming there, Nanami shows no signs of stopping- “-a fail.”

Your eyes snap wide open—“N-no please, isn’t there something else I can do to make up for it-” Fluttering your lashes in just the way you knew he liked - the same one you used all those times when you stayed behind his classes for something stupid. “-sir?”

Nanami’s biting down on his stern lower lip with a shiver, “You’re lucky you’re my favorite.”

And then with no trouble, he’s placing a direct thump to the sweetest spot on the side of your channel that makes you scream. Just the sweetest speck that he’s pushing in on.

Once. Twice. Thrice.

The blond-haired man leans down till the strands of his slicked hair tickle your forehead, panting into your open mouth. “Then how about another assignment, hm? Extra credit?”

You nod fervently, sure that some rational part of you knew that this won’t actually affect your semester’s grades. And yet there was some other part of you that just wanted to please him, to jerk your hips up into his with the cutest whimpers. “Please- please, I’d be so grateful, sir.”

“I need you…” You’re awaiting the rest of his sentence eagerly—but Nanami Kento takes his looooong lecherous time pumping his cock into you in the meantime. Push after push. Breath after breath against the shell of your ear, “-to get pregnant by me.”

That was your assignment?

That was your assignment?

It sends your mind into a tizzy, and you’re just about opening your mouth to answer-

When the bed dips beside you.

You’re looking up into the murky peripherals of Geto Suguru, his smile almost feline on his beautiful face. He looks between your shocked expression and Nanami’s furrowed brows, throwing his locks over his shoulder. “What? I thought class was in session?”

Nanami grumbles, “Don’t push it…”

“You don’t expect more than one student at a time?” He’s humming, milky thighs now splayed out on the mattress. You’re gulping as you watch him cup his thickened base with one hand, giving his red-hot length a few pumps. “It’s alright, I’ll just sit alllll the way at the very back-”

And you gasp at the feeling of him pressing his veiny shaft into your open palm. Curling his ringed fingers around your smaller ones to give his erection a drag—

“-you won’t even- hck! know m’here.”

“Tch-” Nanami clicks his tongue, channeling the tension at having the other man use your pretty self- into none other than your cunt. Into none other than thwacking! his heavy shaft deeper, harder, into you.

You’re starting to get pushed up to the headboard, doing your very best to keep a constant rhythm on Geto’s handjob. “Please- ngh, please m’not gonna last long-” 

“I can’t bear it either.” Gojo’s shaky tone rings out. 

He’s taking just one step before Nanami sternly barks- “Another step and I bribe all your professors into failing you this semester.”

The blue-eyed man slouches in and grumbles.

All as the other two ruin you-

“Then here’s a mini-quiz for you, gorgeous.” Geto hums, and Nanami glares at the other man. He continues as if he doesn’t see, “Who’s going to cum first- A). You…” And it sure was heading in that direction, if the way that Nanami was hitting your g-spot dead-on was anything to go by - you didn’t even know how he managed to spot it so precisely. The ratios of it being molded into your very cunt by his cock- “B). Professor Nanami Kento, here.”

His ruby tip twitches deep against the gummy depths of your walls, spurting out a wad of promising white pre.

“Or C). Me.”

And despite being you who was asked the question, it’s Nanami who’s speaking up. “I don’t care what it is.” He runs a free hand down the front of your stomach, “As long as my daughter’s healthy.”

When he’d first walked through those fraternity doors, you’d expected Nanami to have been the restrained one. Perhaps the one that was more put-together than the other, perhaps the one that wouldn’t have been as affected by the little ongoing challenge to get you pregnant.

And yet, you’re realizing that perhaps your professor was a family man after all.

In no time he’s dragging his cock out with a groan, letting the golden curls down his front scrape your skin carnally. Before with a final thrust- you’re cumming. Again.

“Shit-” Head growing airy at the feeling of him bruisin’ your bundle of nerves again and again and again. “How are you s-so good at hitting- that- spot-”

“Fuck, look at the way she’s dripping.” Gojo’s awed tone breaks across your synchronized moans. 

At the same time, both men on top of you were burstin’ out into their own white-hot high. And from the edge of the room, the other two could see the coating of pure white around Nanami’s lengthy cock as he fucks his miry ribbons inside.

Spraying your insides like a flood. Hot and wet.

It’s a constant wave of creamy white overtaking the spots inside your walls, thoroughly glazing you from the inside. Gluing your thighs together. Feeling the salty aftertaste at your throat. “Sh-shit, oh my god.” And not a single drop was wasted because of the pillow he’d smartly kept underneath you- “I feel so full, sir.”

“Sir? How kinky.” Geto’s panting out, thighs falling open. It only takes you a few slippery pumps to realize that he was pourin’ out his orgasm as well. Down your wrist. Splattering onto your face.

Gliding uuuuup and down, uuuuup and down in an unsteady rhythm- shit, he has to admit that even those little jerks you give when Nanami smacks his hips onto yours felt good. Geto starts rutting up into you, his fuzzy black happy trail scratching your skin. 

Soaking with his cum.

Nanami’s nose crinkles when Geto dips a hand down to swipe at his treacly syrup and smear it all over your lips. “You, Suguru…” As if to say that your lips belonged to him, as if daring the other man to kiss you this way.

“What about me?”

“If you thought that would stop me…”

Your professor’s placing his lips onto yours instantly, murmuring-

“How could I not kiss the future mother of my kids? Congratulations on completing my assignment, darling.” He reaches a hand down to thumb inside your hole, just a few slick remnants that he had to take care of. “And congratulations on my daughter-”

“Th-thank you, sir.” 

You could barely even breathe- just so much of Nanami’s and the others’ stuffing you from the inside. 

“It seems the answer was D)...” Geto rasps out, voice unsteady with the waves of bliss he was still riding out on your pretty palm. “All of the above.”

“That’s it- get off, my turn.” Gojo’s familiar tone bites out from nearby - though you were much too exhausted by this point to actually turn your head and look.

Sukuna hums too, “I’ve never been more excited to do an assignment in my- heh, entire fuckin’ life.”

Nanami sighs, as if the other men were wearing on him already. He doesn’t look at them as he sticks his hand out, “My tie.”

They pause, for just a little- before Gojo’s the one to actually spot the professor’s usual tie. Handing it to him with a confused look…a confused look that slowly melts into sensual agony once the blond-haired man ties the slip of fabric around your wrists.

Tight.

Restraining you to him—he’s using his makeshift handcuffs to draaaag you to him like a ragdoll. “Now, you better behave while we breed you, my love.”

“Yes, sir.”

.

.

.

It’s one more round with Nanami and a sloppy makeout with Geto later that you find yourself being pummeled by Sukuna…and Gojo?

They’d shifted you to lay on top of the wrestler’s toned body, your maw droolin’ a wet sheen down his prominent pecs. He provided the perfect cushioning for you while drilling into you like a madman—again and again reclaiming the depths of your cunt as his.

While Gojo was pistoning his cock hurriedly into you from behind.

Of course, he’d reached his high with a groan the moment he’d slid his furious cockhead into your second entrance. Furiously pushin’ his sappy wads inside- 

“Sh-shit…” The nerdy man shivers as he feels you clench your velvety insides, glasses slippin’ down his nosebridge. He could feel the outline of Sukuna’s thick cock sliiiiiiding against his- and he has to bite back a shudder at the fact. “Your dick’s so small, it’s depressing to feel it through my girl’s pretty anorectal junction-”

“You think I like feeling yours, two-pump chump?” Sukuna bites back. “M’trying to breed my woman here, how am I supposed to that when-”

“Wait wait wait- your woman?”

“Your girl?”

“Can you guys just sh-shut up and—fuck me—?” You’re trilling out stupidly, having had enough of the two men bickering above you. 

They more they argued, the harder they were fucking your two holes - each vein, ridge, and dimple plastering against your walls. It was just an incredible sensation, mind growing blanker by the thrust. By the ruuuuuub of their matching paces furiously filling in, splurging out pre, smearin’ the slick mess. Not a single spot was left unturned as you were being stretched out on both ends, having both cylindrical intrusions claim you-

“As you wish, sweetheart.”

“You said it, mama.”

Neither of them would admit that having the other felt good for them, too…

It’s then that there’s—no, there’s no knock on the door.

Because you have to understand that most fraternity brothers have seen all there is to see, which meant that basic manners were rather…forgotten whenever they were inside the house. Not that it ever revealed anything jaw-dropping during times like this, and most would just assume that a brother would lock the door if they’re ever having…time to themselves.

And you also have to understand that Ryomen Sukuna hated locking the door.

So it opens just a crack with a foreboding creeeeeeak—! and in walks the emo sex dream on campus.

5. Choso Kamo.

In Geto’s band.

Wears eyeliner on a daily basis.

Always quiet and walking around campus with nothing but his headphones and sketchbook (artsy ooo~)

Wanna make him whimper!!

The very same man who, last semester, had shyly asked to draw you for his art exhibition - and ended up creating the most beautiful portrait humanly possible. It was one you couldn’t believe was of a person of this realm, let alone you. And when you’d told half-joking told Choso that, he’d replied—

“But of course it’s of someone from this realm.” His sweet doey eyes had scrunched in a way that was so genuinely confused, “It’s of you. Do you not see yourself like I see you?”

You had to admit that you’d carried a little hallway crush on him since then.

And there he was—not a step made inside Sukuna’s room before you’d dragged him to the bed yourself.

In almost no time, you’d made Choso sit in the middle of the dampened bed- your legs somehow straddling his waist, your back arching, your moans filtering into the sticky air as you rode his cock with such hunger.

“I-I just came to deliver Sukuna his baggie-” 

Sukuna grunts, “Oh yeah, thanks.”

“-and y-you’re saying that—ngh.” You never imagined that Choso Kamo would be the type that couldn’t control his mewls, but right now every time your walls squeezed him just a tad too tight he was makin’ the cutest noises. “You’re saying that the goal is to- hck! g-get you pregnant, baby?”

“Yes, so good, Cho.” You’re blabbering out, your eyes practically turned into hearts.

Somehow…Choso was the largest size of them all- perhaps not the thickest, but his length was just increeeeeedible. Long and lucious, with the prettiest blushing tip. He was long enough that he was bashin’ at your gooey cervix without even being all the way inside, he was long enough that he pumped all the way deeply against your womb and you got the distinct feeling that he’d go even deeper if he could-

“Eleven inches.” Gojo’s awestruck whisper breaks through your frenzied mind, “I swear that guy’s eleven inches-”

And the worst (or perhaps best) part was the silver Prince Albert’s piercing that he proudly donned on his mushroomy tip. Cold metal contrasting with the feverish heat of his cock—making your irises swirl in the white of your eyes.

Geto whistles, “See the amount of cum pourin’ out of her? He might as well have undid all our hard work-”

“Why that emo little-”

“That only means we get to go again.” Sukuna hums with a smirk. Not waiting for the others’ reactions before he’s siddling up behind you, kissing aaaaaall the way down the line of your spine before reachin’ a hand between your legs.

And you jolt as you feel the sudden spikes of pleasure taking over your cunt, Sukuna’s thick fingertips pryin’ aside your pussylips to latch onto your clit. He’s toyin’ with your clit while you ride Choso, “F—fuck, keep going like that, it feels too good-”

“And so you mean to say- we can g-get you pregnant…?” Though Choso’s mind remained fixated on only one thing, and his voice quivered in disbelief. “We can really get you pregnant? Really, really get you preg-”

“For fucks’ sake-”

“You can, baby.” You’re cutting off Sukuna’s rumble- making the other man huff and continue to roll his thumb against your knobbly clit. His erection rutting into you ravenously from behind, “You can cum inside me-”

Choso’s beautiful brown eyes widen, “Cum inside-” He bucks at just the words leaving your mouth.

“And fuck it inside all you want.” You don’t think you’ve felt this much power since you made Gojo cum just with a single touch of your pussy. And Choso was easily the same type to get utterly pussydrunk after only a few glides of his veiny cock. 

Just babbling and babbling away with the clenches of your cunt whenever you felt his pierced tip. He’s striking his painfully hard tip on top of your g-spot and letting the tears flow until you wondered who was feeling the sensation-

“Are you alright, baby?” You’re pushing back his sweaty bangs, staring into those eyes of his that were smudged with eyeliner.

Sukuna leans over, “Yer never that nice to me, woman-”

“Shush before I ban you from the bed.” You huff.

“My own bed?”

But the King of the Ring quietens down anyways, watching down as the man being ridden manages to string together a few coherent words - he couldn’t blame his frat brother. After all, he’d already felt the filthy heaven that was your pussy, and it almost made him lose his mind as well…And by now Choso was far beyond ruined—“So let me get this…get this straight-”

“Go on, baby.” You’re noticing that the man below you was so shattered that his mere body was jolting at the mention of anything to do with a baby. 

Even that cutesy nickname for him made him spurt out in a steam of miry pre, clinging onto your insides. He gasps, “You’re saying that you want to- to have…my baby?”

Gojo pipes up from somewhere across the edge of the room, “And mine!”

“Mine first~” Geto follows.

A heated huff behind you. “Heh, good fuckin’ luck because it’s gonna be mine.” 

“That is unless it’s not mine.” Nanami pushes up his glasses, “Which will be impossible.”

Choso’s growing more and more dazed the more and more they speak—or perhaps he was just reacting to the speeding up of your hips. The way you’re leaning in so close with a sultry smile and saying, “It can be yours, too, Cho—”

And that’s all that it takes to make the poor man cum.

He didn’t expect it- he didn’t even think that it was on its way judging by the sudden jolt that wracks through him. Choso throws his head into the crook of your shoulder, jaw dropping open with little sobs as he furiously fucks himself through his high.

Again and again.

Wave after wave.

You think that Sukuna’s ministrations might have you hitting one of yours, as well - but by now, you were far too gone to actually feel anything but tender zaps of pleasure.

Too caught up in the way that the brown-haired man was poooouring out as many droplets of cum as his balls could hold. Every single one. “You’re saying- you’re saying that m’gonna be the one to breed you—?” He’s rasping out against the side of your neck, and Sukuna claims your other side with a possessive growl. “You’re saying that I’m gonna fuck you all f-full and glowing?”

Arching into the two toned men that sandwiched your, “Yes, please-”

“I’m gonna feed this cunt with all the- ngh, cum she wants.” All the wants and more—it was drippin’ out of you, a milky sheen that coats all three sets of your thighs, Choso’s own, and Sukuna’s. “And then she’s gonna turn it into a baby that’s mine?”

Gojo scoffs, “Erm, actually-”

“And she’s gonna be as beautiful as you-” Choso doesn’t even seem to notice the interruption, doesn’t even seem to notice that he wasn’t breathing. Wasn’t doing anything but moving his plump tip inside of you and bashing every orifice with his puckered, pierced tip- “And she’s gonna have your smile, my eyes, your laugh, my hair—fuck, she’s gonna be just as beautiful as you.”

It seems that he’s tapered out the miry white cum that’d been seeping into you, and the man finds himself reclining back on Sukuna’s bed.

Holding onto either side of your hips now, you’re shocked at the sudden claim that overcomes him once Choso bucks his hips of the bedsprings and starts rutting inside you- “Gonna be so fucking beautiful- gonna be so fucking mine.” Tip bulging. Piercing slick.

“P-pleeeease, Cho—” Your head throws back, body starting to lean against Sukuna’s for support.

When the other man swats away Sukuna’s hand with no fear and starts toyin’ hearts on top of your clit himself. The chipped black of his nail polish marking out exactly where his fingers were moving in a frenzy.

The wrestler raises a brow, “Oi…”

But Choso’s paying no heed, “Gonna fuck- fuck my baby into ya, baby.” His dark lashes quiver with tears, just so big and pretty and sensitive. “Gonna have everyone look at you and see what I did-” Gojo gets up with a growl, and Choso only spreads apart your pussylips with his fingers so that he can see better. The way you were dripping in his cum. 

“Gonna have everyone see you walking down the street and know that I got you pregnant.” It was just so surprising the sheer intensity he was fucking you with—you’re crash-landing into yet another high of the night. And the emo boy was fucking you perfectly through it, letting his bulbous piercing scraaape your dewy insides. “Gonna have everyone see you buying baby clothes and let them know that’s for my baby.” Balls tightening, “Gonna have these fuckers see her in nine months and see me, me, me—”

Choso’s fucked himself into oblivion against your cunt, inside your sopping wet walls - until he’s pushing into his second high of the night.

And the more he’s pushing those clingy white wads inside, the more pussydrunk he seems to be getting. “Gonna—-pregnant.” Only broken fragments of his thoughts and words echoing out, Choso was rubbin’ his reddened tip raw on your pussy. “Get you—ngh, mine—baby…”

Again and again, he was emptying his aching balls inside of you. Twitching after each white-hot pour of his syrup that left you flooded.

And it’s only after he’s done with his wave of euphoria that your jaw drops at his state. Utterly ruined.

“Are you o-okay, Cho?” Genuinely asking.

But the pierced man only looks up at you with tears in his eyes, “Baby, am- am I pregnant?”

Your jaw drops—fuck. Fuck, he was that pussydrunk.

But Sukuna only cackles from behind you, “The fuck did you ask?” He looks over his shoulder at the three other men who were just hypnotized by the sight, “Oi! D’you fuckers hear that?”

“It’s certainly an interesting idea.” Geto hums, drawing nearer.

“And yet, mostly implausible.” Nanami replies.

“If there’s anyone here that she’s going to get pregnant first- then it’s going to be me.” Gojo stabs a thumb at himself, and you all turn to look at him. Slightly abashed at the sudden attention, he pushes his glasses up his nose with a blush. “B-but of course, I know that’s impossible with the considerations of a lack of seminiferous tubules and even if there was a vans deferens the considerations of a male womb…” Trailing off.

You’re so fucked that you almost don’t realize that all five men were on the bed in mere moments.

Surrounding you.

Gojo and Nanami’s cocks being guided to your sweaty hands, they themselves starting to move your palms down their needy lengths. Choso perking his hips up still as if unstoppable, as if it doesn’t even matter how sensitive he was if he could just fill you up once more—

“H-hold on-” You’re gasping down at the brown-haired man, “Hold on, Cho, are you sure you can-”

“Hold on?” Choso chokes out, “Hold on.”

Before tunneling straight into your womb with no apology-

“M’trying to f-fuck you till you’re pregnant and dripping with my seed and you want me to hold on- never say that again, baby.” He leans in closer and whispers, “Never.”

Before your mouth’s plugged up with Sukuna’s cock.

.

.

.

Where the others were possessive, Geto was just downright filthy.

You hadn’t even allowed your brain to register the feeling of Choso’s plummy, split-ended tip pulling out of you with a plop! Just the sheer length of it singed into your walls- “Sh-shit.” You’re shivering sensitively, “What now—oh.”

And you don’t have to ask before you’re feeling it again.

Him.

Geto Suguru with his muscular front against your back, taking Sukuna’s position behind you on the mattress. “A full nelson, huh, Ryomen?” His breathy voice echoes out behind you. “You know, that might just work- c’mere, Satoru.”

Gojo perks up where he’d been sulking in his chair, “Me?”

“You.” All laid behind Geto now, you were just so far gone that you barely even feel it once he spreads apart your jittery legs. With a single swipe of his ringed fingers, he’s baring your cream-covered cunt for everyone to see. All gooey and wet with the wads of cum trickling out of you. “C’mere and eat her out while I fuck her.”

“I thought you were going to let me fuck her- out of the kindness of your heart.” Gojo huffs, but gets down before you two anyways.

“What heart?”

And it’s the last thing you’re hearing before Geto’s incredibly hardcockhead is mazing between your walls. He’d waited all this time since the beginning of the night, through the new additions to the bedroom, and now was his time. Now he was not waiting a single second for you to get used to his primal size. Not waiting a single second even feeling apologetic- 

“S’because I have no heart that m’reaching for hers~”

Gojo might have been the longer out of the two, but Geto was most certainly the thickest. An incredible girth that might just be one of the thickest you’ve encountered this entire night, his entire tannish tip covered in a few squiggly veins that perfectly outlined your cunt.

And the thing was—

Geto lived up to be just as good as his mouth was - he lived up to all the talk. He was leaving you stupid with only a few swabs of his puckered red tip, dribblin’ out gooey pre ‘round your entrance and then pushing then pushing each ounce iiiiiiinwards.

Again and again.

2. Geto Suguru.

Fucking PRETTY

Rings 

In a band

Already super close friends. Two in one go??

You met him at one of his gigs on campus, and you admit you’d been struck by the music- but also the singer himself. Rather accosting him after the show, it was a fast track to becoming friends.

And Geto Suguru was…Geto Suguru.

Anyone else might have gone a little slower in the beginning, anyone else might have let you at least get used to his incredible length before utterly ruining you - but Geto Suguru had your pussylips split upon his cock and was reaching in ravenously. Hard. Quick strikes. Not waiting a single second before plapping! at the very back of your spongy cervix and glidin’ back down, not waiting a single second after he’s making everyone’s cum pour out of you-

And Geto doesn’t even speak to you from behind until he’s sure he’s made your pretty pussy surge into your orgasm at least twice like his.

Carefully movin’ about the rude red tip of his shaft, he spanks a bruise onto your g-spot a few times and watches as you shatter as if made of porcelain-

“So how about it, gorgeous?” Geto’s gasping voice from behind you, the curtain of his long inky hair tickling your sensitive skin. He had you pinned against his back with a single pale arm, “Decided on which one of us you want to make your- hngh, baby daddy yet?”

“F-fuck, I’m not quite…” Your sentence trails off with pleasure.

“Yeah? Not quite yet?” He continues from behind you, acting for all the world as if he wasn’t just singlehandedly ruining you on his velvety shaft. And you could practically hear the pout in his purring voice, “Well, you’re going to have to- mmm, decide soon if you really wanna baby, y’know?”

Back arching, “Yes—yes-”

“Oh, who am I kidding?” And the waves of your bliss were roaring in your ears, leaving your friend’s sing-song voice sound as if almost from a distance. 

He doesn’t say anything before reaching his roughened-up hands down between your tits, sloooowly - almost as if he was attempting not to scare off his prey. “There’s someone- heh, better I can ask about that…”

“What are you…” You’re choking on so many of your whines as he reaches down and presses the slender tips of his fingers on top of your stomach, slightly bloated with sopping cum. And it just makes you guuuuush- “Shit shit sh-shit, Suguru, what are you—oh.”

“Whoops, was that me?” Geto’s purring out from behind you, ignoring the protests that erupt from every corner of the room. “Silly me~ I didn’t realize she was leaking this fucking much- we might just hafta fuck her like this all over again boys.”

“I mean, I would gladly.” Sukuna rumbles.

“Shit, same.” The white-haired man gulps from below, it was here that he could get the perfect vision of the ivory sap flowing out of you. Hotly melting between your pussylips and reachin’ the curled tip of his tongue, “Shit, what are you even doing to her, Suguru-”

“Hmmmm—?” Because none of them had ever fucked you like this.

While the other men had their goals of breeding you until you were all roooound and glowing, Geto had a slightly altered goal of doing that in the way that would most leave your pussy crying. Leave you crying.

They could see it right now, the way that the bassist would speed his slender hips until they were almost nothing but a blur between your legs. Roughly mazin’ the crown edge of his shaft until it felt like you were twitching from pleasure- until it felt like you were just a liiiiittle too close to reaching your high. And the only thing that Geto Suguru could do then is slow down.

Achingly so, until you’re left sobbing for more—

“Too fucking filthy.” Sukuna’s whistling, bulging biceps crossed. He cocks his head at the nerdy man, “So are ya gonna eat her out or just stare- because I could do a right job of it-”

“Shut up.”

And Gojo Satoru was never one to not catch up.

He lets his slick tongue flop out, gulping at the ivory sap flowing out of you. It’s like a hot melt between your swollen pussylips- “Mmm—” So fucking filthy. Too fucking filthy. And yet, he didn’t know if he was the filthier one for then reaching out and letting his tongue across your folds, dipping just a little lower…“Mmmpf- Suguru, did she say which one of us she wanted as the- hngh, baby’s father yet?” 

“Tha’s exactly what I’m asking her, Satoru.” Geto responds.

And in no time you’re feeling his fingertips push down on your womb once again, making it hard for you not to shatter into yet another one of your highs - but you were so overstimulated by this point that even that felt like a mere few tingles. “Let’s seeeee—” His breathy tone was in your ear, lookin’ down at the other man between your legs. “I think m’hearing ‘Suguru’, gorgeous…”

“Where the fuck are you-” Gojo himself is interrupted by a particularly loud splosh of sap trickling out from between your pussylips. And he can’t lie, he’s listening to the noise himself as if it was human words. “She did not fucking say that, don’t put words in my girl’s mouth- pussy.”

Geto arches a brow, “Then what did she say?”

“She said ‘Satoru’.” Stubbornly replying from below.

Geto’s snapping his hips up viciously at the feeling of his best friend’s tongue licking at your hole, parts of his textured tongue gliding down his own shaft. “Mmm, you fucking wish- just listen to her.” Making the echoing slurps grow louder and louder.

“Nuh-uh, fucking listen to this-” With the other man’s tongue slippin’ between your folds and dragging out just as many noises.

“Heh, yeah right—”

You didn’t even know which one of them was being louder at this point, because whenever you thought that it might be Geto then Gojo was tuggin’ on your clit with his teeth and making you moan- and whenever you thought that it might be Gojo then Geto was planting his hand down on your tummy and making you leak out. Making you formulate a puddle of slick that both men were just addicted to—

“P-please…” As if this was nothing but your little mantra, and it kept echoing out of you like a broken record player. You didn’t know what exactly you were begging for - for more, for mercy, for your life-

“I know.” Geto hisses from behind you, his sharp canines starting to dig into the side of your neck. “How about we ask her, Satoru?”

Gojo’s eyes snap above his foggy glasses, “Good idea- sweetheart, isn’t it me that your womb’s begging for?”

“Isn’t it me you’ve been dreaming of getting pregnant by?” Geto speaks out as well.

And you’re following the two men like a tennis match, with your stupidly dazed eyes bouncing between the rude pumps that Geto was placing on your cunt, the way that Gojo’s tongue somehow forked into all the right places.

Driving you wild.

“I-is it me, sweetheart-”

“It’s me, isn’t it, gorgeous-”

And when it seemed as though you were far too stupid on their movements to answer, Geto was reaching his hand down and pinching your clit—the very same that Gojo was surging up to and suckling. Both of them are fighting for purchase on you. Both of them ending up only making your pleasure ebb even deeper- and your nth high of the night crashing through your body.

“B-both—!” You’re calling out, getting the lewd attention of everyone watching. You buck and thrash on top of him, “Want both, Suguru- Satoru- fuck, I want both of you-”

“Then it’s settled.”

The bulbous end of his cock pulses away inside you, dragging back and forth along your walls in a way that was frenzied. He smears aside your legs even further and furrows his brows, “Then it’s settled-” Geto’s pants making the skin on the side of your neck perspire, his slender hips arching up into you in a way that you weren’t even sure was possible. Just the best angles hittin’ each throbbing spot inside you until you gasp, ”-that our baby’s gonna have two daddies, huh?”

And it’s almost as if that was enough to make Geto Suguru crash into his own high, like he couldn’t control himself at the image - he couldn’t stop himself at the thought of you being fucked by him and his best friend. In no time, his high was shooting straight through him and ending up smeared against the wetness of your cervix.

Right at the very back, it’s splattering out in a distinct warmth that you note. He doesn’t move a single inch as he pumps you through the shivers of his high. Pump after pump. Push after push that leaves you primally speechless. “Oh my god—” Your mouth waters as you’re filled up with wad after wad of gooey white-

“Suguru’s just fine, gorgeous.” He hums from beneath you, thrusts loooooong and thorough pushing in every single ribbony white excess. “Or maybe even- the future father of your kids.”

“I-I’d like that…” Twitching through the way he was fucking you like an animal. And just below, Gojo was much the same- just lickin’ and lickin’ away between your legs while Geto fucked you stupid. You’re filled up to the brim, until it was almost too much to keep inside—

And Gojo thinks he might just cream himself just from the very vision- “Don’t tell me you’re gonna cum already, Satoru?” 

“Fuck off, Suguru.”

.

.

Toji Fushiguro doesn’t get fucking paid enough.

Being the security guard on a college campus isn’t exactly the most lucrative job in the first place, but it was made worse by the fact that he had to deal with that—college kids. Toji himself was about ten years past his own college day, though that was not to say that his experience as a security guard didn’t hone him to handle all clientele. He could handle awkward high schoolers. He didn’t care about screaming middle schoolers. 

Hell- even the pre-schoolers seemed to have just a bit more sense than some twenty-somethings with too much alcohol and too little self-preservation on their hands.

Which is why he was answering a call at 3AM.

Perfect, those never bode well.

The complaint had come from the resident of some nearby dorm who’d happened to pass by the Curses Epsilon frat house (god, Toji fucking hated frats) and heard some…strange noises. It was far too loud and far too many voices for them to discern, apparently. And though they’d rung the bell, it seems that no one had been home.

Except for the strange noises, that is!

Looking up at the sprawling mansion from here, Toji could see just one light in the entire building turned on. It seems there was someone home - though likely only the resident of this particular room. 

And Toji didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to figure out that this was likely some frat dudebro (god, Toji fucking hated dudebros) who had a bad trip or far too much to drink. This fraternity in particular was always infamous for their ragers, ones that Toji himself has had to shut down many times. 

So he’s announcing his presence before trying the door hand and—ah, and it opens. Just as he expected (god, did he say he fucking hated frats?)

Entering through the dimly-lit living space, the noises only got louder the closer he got to a certain resident’s room.

The closer he got to—

“What the-” Toji’s flinging open the door to Ryomen Sukuna’s room, breath catching at the sight (cock twitching). “-fuck.”

You.

You, you, you, you.

Toji Fushiguro has wanted to fuck you since the moment he saw you.

Ever since last semester when you’d bribed him - oh, the sweet audacity - into letting you and your friends throw a party by bringing him a bottle of fine whiskey. He’d laughed in your face, of course, before ultimately taking the spoils and grumbling that you could (‘but only until 1AM’ he’d said).

That night he sipped on his whiskey, wondering if the pretty pussy underneath that thin skirt of yours was just as sweet. Just as addictive. 

And here you were now—laid across Ryomen Sukuna’s bed and being filled by five men in all of your holes.

And, well, did Toji mention that he didn’t get paid enough?

6. Toji Fushiguro.

That HOT campus security omg (someone should put his face on the campus magazine and the applications would fill in)

BUFFFFFFFFFFFFF X5

Gruff but lowkey has a soft spot

Rumor says he’s a DILF (hmmm?)

He’s starting to tug off his uniform immediately, “Don’tcha worry, doll-” Toji snickers at the shocked look on your face, looming closer to you. To where you were sprawled on the bed and getting pinned by one set of Sukuna’s hands. “-I don’t snitch.”

And the long-haired one in a band - Geto, he believes his name was - grins. “Welcome to the club.”

The rickety bedsprings creak as he joins you all on the bed. “This bed’s gonna fuckin’ break.” Sukuna rolls his eyes.

“Shut up, brat.” And only the older man was the only one here who would possibly talk to Ryomen Sukuna that way. Toji shoos away the other men to meet you in the middle of his dampened sheets, brows raising at the sheer amount of white sap pourin’ out of you. He’d overheard some of the things that’d been said before he came but…fuck. “Damn, they really did a number on you, hm?”

You can only nod, “Mhm—”

“And you don’t regret a single thing.”

“W-well…” You look away, unsure what to say.

“No no, s’good.” Toji coos—almost. His tone was far too mean for that, “A girl like you should enjoy yourself during your college years.”

You’re jolting at the inkling of something dangerous in his tone- as do some of the others. But you don’t get to think too long about it before Toji has one roughened hand flipping you over. The other shoving your head down into the pillows- “But let me show you how a real man breeds ya now.”

You can only nod.

He tugs down - merely tugs down - his pants until the thick reddened tip of his cock hits your pussylips. Smearin’ down the crevice of your cunt, watching as you drivel a wet glaze down Toji’s length—he wastes no fucking time before edging his hips upwards and shoving—“Y’know, I’ve always wondered whether these college boys were fuckin’ you right.”

“N-ngh, fuck—” Your eyes roll to the back of your skull. Toji was just so thick - thicker than anyone here, with more veins than your feverish mind could even count by now.

“Yeah? I’ve always wondered whether they could- ngh, satiate this pretty pussy like she deserves-” Toji snickers, watching as you shake beneath him. “-the way I could do it.”

“H-hey! I think we did a good job-” Toji sends Gojo one look his way and he shuts up.

The older man glides his calloused fingertips down your spine, drawing sensual hearts that make you shiver. “Because unlike these damn college boys, y’know it takes a reeeeal hard earner ta know the feeling of wantin’ to provide.” He’s gruffing out, hips hitting yours in half-ruts. “A real family man.”

“Oh fuck off, old man.” Sukuna rolls his eyes, “You’re looking at the future of wrestling right here-”

“And a future Nobel Prize winner!” Gojo pipes up, but hides behind the pink-haired man anyway.

Nanami chimes in as well, “I fear I simply do not see the point you are trying to make, Mr. Fushiguro.”

They were in an uproar. 

But to everyone’s surprise…Toji Fushiguro isn’t getting angry. Toji Fushiguro is smiling- “Hehhhh, fear you don’t see the point m’trying to make, huh? Let’s just put it this way then…” Almost muttering to himself, before he’s grabbing onto either side of your waist and funneling your womb with all his girthy seven inches. “-we’re about to make my son a big brother tonight.”

Their jaws drop.

Oh.

Oh.

They were well-aware that the security guard was single, all by his lonesome, according to gossiping admirers who had the courage to ask - but no one could have ever guessed that the man had a son.

And right now he was fucking you like he wanted to make a second- 

“I’ve always wanted to show her- fuck, to show this pussy that even older men can fuck you gooooood, honey.” Just as he promises, he’s reaching for your g-spot faster than anyone else before him. Harder. Scourin’ your honeyed walls and making sure that Toji’s cock was thoroughly etched against your pussy, “So how about it? Got a thing for DILFs?”

“Yes—” Your velvety walls are squeezing his length and Toji holds onto you so tight that his nail marks take home on your skin. “Yes fuck, how did you know-”

“Because everyone’s gotta thing for DILFs.” He’s snickering from above you, abs glissading faster down your back. Your mouth drops ajar at the way that Toji reaches down and squeezes your clit with no hesitation. “But whaddaya feel about becoming a MILF?”

“Sh-she was mine first.” Gojo growls out from your side, holding onto your arm as if to tug you away.

But Toji only glances over like he just realized the other man was there, lazily looking him up and down. “Natural selection, kid. I’m gonna be the one to make her a momma.”

“That’s bullshit.” 

“Keeeep talking.”

Toji Fushiguro’s fucking you like an animal - short, rapid bucks and ruts of his hips just to fit inside. Just to manage to stretch out your walls to his girth, and then draaaaag all the way back out again to repeat. “Heh, s’a big stretch- I know.” Almost as if he was out of control. And with his meanness, he didn’t mind being so sloppy with it that after a few thrusts his cockhead would slip out of your hole. Ending up slidin’ between your lips and grazing his flared slit along your most sensitive spots. Toji holds onto the base of his cock and shovels in even more ruthlessly than before.

Just to make you whine a bit more—

“Handle it.” He gruffs out from behind you, shaggy black bangs tickling the back of your neck. And Toji’s pistoning into you at a pace that leaves you dizzy, “I said fucking- hah, handle it. Yer gonna have an even bigger of a stretch down there in nine months- heh.”

“You’re just so mean.” You huff.

“Me?” Toji coos in amusement, “Aw, doll, you haven’t seen mean yet.” 

You’re holding onto his pale pillows for dear life as he fills you up once more, “Ohhh, feels so good, Toji-” Again. And again.

“Oh yeah? Oh yeah?” And he sounds fucking ecstatic at the fact. He grips onto the back of your throat with one hand, “You see- when ya get to my age you just don’t have time for the- hah, nonsense.” Fucking you hard and fast. 

And purposeful.

It felt like Toji’s rounded tip was hitting every spot he wanted it to, and even the slightest rub of his zig-zagging veins left you speechless. You weren’t even sure whether you were shaking because of the sheer stimulation or because he was just that good- “Just needa find a niiiice girl ta settle down with.” His rumbling tone continues, “Treat her all nice, get her everything she wants- heh, then pump her full with a kid or two—get all of them everything they want.”

“Shit-” You gasp out, trying to buck against the creaky mattress. “Fuck, m’just so sensitive-”

“And what is it that you want, momma?”

The only thing that you can cry out now, “T-to cum—”

His fingers twist on your clit even harder, “Anything for the mother of my kid.” He speeds up, heavy balls hitting you in light spanks. “Anything-” He snarls, your cunt was just dangerously fluttering around him. “Goooood, right? Goooood?”

“Good-” You hiccup- “So good-”

“Nuh uh, doll- s’it so goooood?” 

Toji might have been teasing you, but you still manage to find yourself repeating. “S-so gooooood-”

“Soooo good?”

Completely dumbified by now that you weren’t even sure what you were saying, the tell-tale twitches at the base of your stomach tells you that you’re close. “So, sooooo good.”

“Heh, how cute. So dumb on my cock.” He hums, “And can ya say Mrs. Toji Fushiguro?”

“Mrs. Toji—oh.”

And the next thing you’re actually seeing with your own two eyes…the bulging erection of Gojo Satoru. His pale thighs spread wide open in front of you, his puckered red tip being tapped on your lips. He wasn’t going to let you finish that particular sentence any time soon - or ever, really. “Open wide f’me, sweetheart? Let me see that cavum oris…”

“S-Satoru—” You whine, letting your jaw unfasten for him.

And it’s as if the moment they’re seeing their inexperienced friend take initiative, the rest of them were just rushing at you. Because Gojo’s slickly smooth tip thrusts between your lips- and then you have Geto and Sukuna’s hands dragging both of yours to their cocks.

Nanami’s even snaking his hands underneath to massage your sore tits.

Toji’s hands the only thing keeping your body held up- “Fuckin’ animals.” He’s hissing between gritted teeth, nose crinkling in a look of primal need. “Go easy on ‘er- she’s the momma of my future kid.”

“No, mine.” Nanami’s the first to speak.

“Mine.”

“Mine~”

Choso blinks, “M-mine?”

“N-no, mmm—” Gojo’s head falls back at the slide of your textured tongue underneath the line of his mushroom tip, “-mine.”

And when Toji finally cums it’s with all five other men still with their hands on you. 

Pumping his seed in primal, rapid half-thrusts in and out.

Massaging your elastic hole. Caressing your deepest insides with all his puffy veins.

Your face is being pushed up against Gojo’s toned v-line and there’s nothing you can do about it, your nose scratching on his sultry ivory hairs. Toji’s length just felt so perfect - you could feel the curve of his cockhead piston gluey webs against your very throat with how hard he was pumping himself into you. 

In and out, in and out, in and out until he could feel that sweet, sweet resistance of your hole and he’s forced to ease back out. He was reluctant to pull out even when he could feel the recoil of your cervix begging him to move- to fuck his ivory syrup deep inside. 

So much of it—

All of it mixing into one making you feel so full-

“Ay ay- stop fucking into her mouth so hard, how m’I supposed to breed her like this?” Toji tuts at Gojo.

“Can you blame me?” He, too, was milking his length on your heavenly body. Overflowing with a line of cum that streams out from his pretty strawberry divot and down to your throat- Gojo watches it all disappear between your lips and shivers.

Until Toji roughens out an incredibly hard jackhammer that has you spilling a few strings out of your mouth. “Heh, whoops-”

“Fuck you-”

“Fuck you-”

“I thought we were fucking her.” Geto’s humming through the argument, tilting his head down at you. “How about me next, gorgeous?” And you wished you had the rationality at this point to let him know that you were just barely getting through your nth high of the night-

Waves of tender bliss flowing through you.

You think you might pass out.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Gojo hisses, and you’re just letting of Toji’s cock with a pop! and a few more sultry sounds of cum gushing out of you. Before he’s crushing you to his front, staring them all down. “It’s my turn again.”

“You fuckin’ wish-”

“Satoru-”

“How crude-”

“Well…”

“She’s mine.”

1. Gojo Satoru.

Super cute

Probably a big D

Secret freak (tracked ovulation!??)

However has no experience (not quite a con?) and no place to fuck in (single bed + has a roommate, Geto)

2. Geto Suguru.

Fucking PRETTY

Rings 

In a band

Already super close friends. Two in one go??

3. Ryomen Sukuna.

Frat boy™ (leader of Curses Epsilon)

Probably REALLY good in bed

On his way to become a pro wrestler (headlocks omg??)

Might be rough…

4. Nanami Kento.

The HOTTEST prof/ TA this campus has ever seen

Such a gentleman (opens doors, eye contact even when wearing skimpy tops, reads feminist books omg)

Mature 

Some think he’d be dry in bed tho…

5. Choso Kamo.

In Geto’s band.

Wears eyeliner on a daily basis.

Always quiet and walking around campus with nothing but his headphones and sketchbook (artsy ooo~)

Wanna make him whimper!!

6. Toji Fushiguro.

That HOT campus security omg (someone should put his face on the campus magazine and the applications would fill in)

BUFFFFFFFFFFFFF X5

Gruff but lowkey has a soft spot

Rumor says he’s a DILF (hmmm?)

“Seems we have quite the conundrum on our hands.” Geto’s the one to hum above the squabbling, and as he turns to you, so does everyone else - all six of them. 

Looking at you.

“So?” Gojo urges. “Which one of us will it be?”

A/N. The way I didn’t even KNOW how to tag this after I was done erm-

Plagiarism not authorized.

[henneseyhoe]

I want you.

Cameron Cade x Reader

WARNINGS: SMUT!!, Dom(ish)!Cam (Cam Is Thirsty Asf), Flirting, Shy!Reader, Majorette!Reader, Oral (Male Receiving), Big Dick!Cam, PinV, Squirting, Cum swallowing/Eating(?Idk), Dirty Talk, Aftercare Insinuated. Slightly Unedited.

SUMMARY: Idk I wrote this while horny. Enjoy. PT2? (if yall like this)

✮✮✮✮

“Whatchu sittin’ so far away for?”

Her eyes flickered up to his, narrowing. She knew exactly what he was trynna do, he had been asking to link again for the longest and it definitely wasn’t in concern for the assignment they needed to be doing.

If anything they should have been in a library with other people around, not at her crib, on her couch with R&B playing.

Y/N wasn’t necessarily a ‘good girl’, but she stayed in her lane and took care of her responsibilities. School was tough, and most importantly; expensive. If her daddy knew he sent his daughter to one of the best HBCUs in the country to carry on his legacy, but was instead playing around with boys, he would have blown his gasket and had everything to say about it. She could just hear it now.

‘I RAISED YOU BETTER!’

‘I DONT PAY ALL THAT MONEY FOR YOU TO PLAY!’

Yadda yadda ya—

The thought had her so caught in the moment, she forgot who was sitting in front of her for a moment.

“Cmere..”

Her head snapped to him in confusion before her face scrunched upon realizing what he had just said. “—Unt-unt…You trynna eat me..”

His jaw ticked before he smirked, his eyes landing on her glossed lips. He could feel his blood rushing immediately.

“Hell yeah.” He spoke bluntly, earning an eye roll from her.

He had been waiting so long to get back up with her, there was nothing more he wanted than to devour every inch of her body, nothing more he wanted than for her to want him back. “Look like you wanna be ate anyway.”

She mugs him, her mouth partially opening as if she was going to speak before it shuts back. Shit, it was true.

Rolling her eyes again, she speaks finally. “Boy bye, I'm wearing a shirt and shorts. Yeen nobody.” Her fronting barely covered her tracks, her hands moving to pull the oversized tee she wore over her thick things. He definitely saw through it.

Cameron mirrors her eye rolling just to be petty before commenting, “Right.”

His hand gripped on her bare ankle, softly caressing until he was suddenly tugging her over to his end of the couch, the jolt making her yelp so loud that the small black cat in the corner decided the two of them were no longer her scene and walked off elsewhere in the apartment.

She knew he was strong, the man played football for almost all his life, but damn. She was starting to feel that pulse between her thighs intensify. Loud like the sports car he pulled up in purring to life.

“Cam! Stop!-”

“Shut up.” He speaks sternly but playful, rocking that same smirk.

Sucking her teeth, she crosses her arms in an attempt to look opposed to his actions, but the small smile cracking made it hard. She sighs.

“You know, you don’t gotta be so thirsty, nigga.”

Cameron shrugs, unbothered. “I’m tired of beating around the bush. Closed mouths don’t get fed-”

“And when you get lock jaw? Then you won’t be eatin’ shit, greedy ass.”

He erupts into laughter at her. The front she put on was genuinely entertaining to him. He liked watching her pretend not to care about how he played with her, how he touched her, while also squirming where she sat. She was an obvious little thing and couldn’t lie to save her life.

There was a brief pause between both of them, her avoiding more eye contact while his big hands rubbed at her calf, shamelessly moving higher and higher till he got to her thigh.

He gave it a light squeeze and listened for a reaction, which he got. Quiet, but enough to confirm his already solid thoughts. She was sensitive. No dick in a while, if she ever had any to begin with.

Suddenly, he speaks. “All that bluffin’ just for me to be puttin’ you through this floor later.”

Her wide eyes flicker to his, fear of eye contact be damned now. The shockfactor of his dirty mouth had yet to wear off even after five months or so of knowing each other and exchanging conversation. “You are so nasty! You talk like we did something before.”

“Don’t got to! I know it’s good, and I know I’m good at what I do too.” The cockiness rolls off his tongue so easily, making her walls throb around nothing at all. It was starting to ache almost. She cursed her cycle and ovulation week to hell, wishing she didn’t feel so damn easy in the moment.

“How you know it’s good, Cam?” She asks, waiting for him to say something that’d heat her ears even more. You could tell he didn’t have to think for a moment before speaking, the response being like quickfire and just as unfiltered as the last.

“Cause I can see that ass from the front, duh. No idea how you get through doors without going in sideways, damn!” He smiles as she sucks her teeth in faux annoyance, pushing him. That only made him pull her closer. Subtle, but she noticed.

“Shut up! You are so silly.”

Both of their laughs filled the room. It was comforting, the music she put on to make it less awkward wasn’t even needed at this point. Everything came so naturally, the banter, the casual conversation, the flirtation. By the time they stopped laughing at other jokes being thrown back and forth, their stomachs were sore.

Catching his breath, Cameron wipes his teary eyes before speaking again,

“Okay, okay, I'll stop playin’. But for real…I’m just happy we hangin’ again,” He pauses a moment, letting the comment set in to watch you smile at it. “I’m trynna stick around and see what’s so good ‘bout being cooped up and busy all the time, not outside and shit”

She nods, humming. “Hm..outside where you be every weekend?”

He sucks his teeth and laughs. “Aight now..I don’t be outside all the time, I’m just saying. I don’t see yo’ ass no where unless somebody dragged you there. It’s more to life than practice and school, Y/N. That’s it.”

She shrugs, which he mimics but in more confusion, pushing further for an answer. Truthfully she only had one answer for that.

“I like my own company…Dance practice drains me enough. I got my friends and my music, all I need.” Stating matter of factly, she nods and he hums in response.

Maybe she stretched her reasoning a little and overcompensated for the fact that she hated parties, but that didn’t make what she said any less true. Actually, Cameron knew that very well already, it wasn’t hard to make her friends come up off information. He knew she was private, but he wanted in, and badly.

“Just friends, dance, and music? No room for nothin’ else?”

Her brain short circuits momentarily, trying to find every other possible way he could have meant that as they exchange looks. No longer playful, it was back to being something charged with more than just curiosity.

As her brows furrowed, she tried to joke again, but the quietness she got after the fact showed he was dead serious. But, she refused to embarrass herself and answer the wrong question.

“Who are you, Oprah?—Like what, Cam?” She asks quietly.

He felt so much closer, maybe it’s because they were inches away, but it felt deeper than physical. His hands squeeze at her thigh again, more so for comfort than anything. Was this what weeks of friendship was building up to? Something that was slightly more real than she initially expected? Often she told herself to stop being so delusional with thoughts of him that stretched beyond flirting or sex, she knew the hassle it was to cuff a man who played any sport, but was it really that shallow?

He didn’t even get to answer before she leaned in and beat him to the punch, unlike how he predicted it to go, but he wasn’t complaining.

The gap was closed by him with no hesitation, a shameless groan leaving his throat as soon as they connected.

The kiss was everything but rushed, Cam licking at her bottom lip to signal her to allow him in deeper; which she granted, mouth opening just a little wider. His hands found her hips to sit her in his lap and she fit just like a puzzle as he held her down right there, firm with a neediness he slowly revealed every time they were together.

She couldn’t help but move her hips in a familiar circular motion she was using on her pillow lately, feeling him respond back with just as much depravity. Grinding and whimpering into his mouth was her only way of satisfying that hot feeling in her tummy, the swarm of fictitious butterflies now completely engulfing her habit of timid behavior around him.

Just like that, he was brick hard, length pressing against her clothed middle. She could feel every twitch of it, and he could feel just how much she was throbbing through her shorts, a feeling that was a direct result of being around him.

Disconnecting the kiss, she gasps softly and lifts off of him, only enough to see the erection rising back in his basketball shorts.

“Can I see it?” She asks, innocence completely out of the window as soon as she felt him poking at her entrance.

His blue eyes searched hers for a moment, almost as if he was double checking for something.

“You wanna see? Say please.”

There was another whimper that left her kiss swollen lips, him giving her a begging look to coax the response he wanted out of her. It didn’t even take that much.

“Please?..Can I please see it?” She begs.

The serious face he wore slowly melted into a smirk, his body relaxing back into the couch.

“Pull it out for me, baby.”

✮✮✮✮

She wasn’t one to usually give head, but tonight felt totally different. Sure, her hormones were raging and taking over her brain like a parasite, but maybe he really deserved it. Maybe she deserved it. A girl could get a prize for being a square every once in a while.

It almost took her by surprise that he was so heavy with how lanky his body was, the muscle built from football really doing the work that his 6’5 height wasn’t. If she was none the wiser she’d say all his weight came from between his thighs.

8 inches of thickness that was two toned and slightly darker than his skin color, the tip of him matching the color of his lips. The upper half of his shaft curved only slightly upward, and he was trimmed, light brown hair speckled up to his happy trail.

After training herself for a moment she allowed her mouth to work down on him until she couldn’t take the pressure in her throat anymore, almost gagging on him before she pulled off with strings of spit falling from her wet mouth. He took the liberty to help guide her back down on him, hands tangling in her hair.

“Lemme use that mouth.” He moans while leading her right into the perfect pace for him, his groans mixing with the gargling sounds she had been making due to the amount of spit she gathered for him. The faster he went, the more spit she had to swallow or use to stroke his balls while he fucked her throat, earning her another moan.

There was no sign of him letting up either, so she relaxed her throat as much as she could and continued to breathe through her nose, letting him do exactly what he said.

“Oh my god, yo-“

She could hear him shudder from above, his thighs tensing up and relaxing constantly.

She moaned around him just to tease and egg him on, feeling how reactive he was to every move she made. When she wrapped her hand around the rest of his length she couldn’t swallow, he whimpered, caressing her jaw. This time when she purposely gagged around him, he began twitching in her throat, repeating her name until he felt his release building.

“Oh shit!”

His abs tightened to the point where it almost burned like a preseason workout. His hips slightly bucked whenever she’d come back up and lick over the tip of him, teasingly swiping the underside of the muscle over him repeatedly until she tasted the bitter sweetness of his cum.

And unlike any other guy she had ever been with, he actually kissed her afterwards, and passionately. There was no wiping her mouth, no turning his head, nothing. He grabbed her by the throat and allowed her to kiss him while his hand worked to slide inside her shorts and cup her pussy, fingers sliding through the slick warmth of her cunt ever so easily.

He grunted against her lips, biting softly as he pulled away. “So fuckin wet. Take these shits off and lay down.”

✮✮✮✮

Breathless and folded into her own couch now, Y/N thought back on how she imagined being in this exact same position with him; Face down, ass up with a few hand prints bruised onto her ass, but living it was so much better than imagination.

“You love that shit?”

His mouth was right next to her ear, filling her head with dirty praises as he fucked into her slowly, keeping her back perfectly arched for him to get just the right angle.

“I do!—“ She squealed.

“Yeah?”

“Hell yeah, baby!”

A gasp caught in her throat as he slid deeper into her messy pussy. The wet sound of him sliding in and out was obscene and pornographic, the clapping sound made it no better.

There was a dull ache deep in her stomach from how big he was, but the little pain was a good one. One that made her toes curl and her jaw drop.

“I feel that pussy squeezin’ a nigga. You don’t gotta tell me you love it, I feel you, baby.” He huffs. It was hungry and animalistic, his hands gripping her hips even harder as he used her body weight as leverage to lean back on his haunches, using mostly his hips to fuck into her.

Her mind was as good as gone now, a clawed hand coming down on the cushions of the couch repeatedly before she made a fist, clutching the plush pillows to bear everything he gave her.

“Sh-sh-shit! Cam! Yesss! You fuckin’ me, bae—“ She chokes out, her voice shaking.

Bae?..She had no idea where the hell that came from.

She sounded scared almost when she moaned, anticipating how hard she was gonna cum—and ruin her couch.

“You got it. Take this shit like a good fuckin’ girl.”

“Yes!”

“You wanna cum, huh?”

“So fuckin’ bad!”

“Gimme it. Gimme allat shit.”

“Yes, yes! Ye—!” She went silent as his hand reached around and spread her lips with his fingers momentarily, her hips bucking back against him so hard that his other hand almost slipped before he readjusted and leaned in to deliver sharp thrusts until he was jackhammering himself down into her, one foot on the floor to keep his punishing strokes steady while his hands anchored to the dip in her back to keep her right where he wanted her; Stuck and drooling on her own couch.

His balls slapped against her clit over and over again, giving her more sensation than she could possibly handle at the time, but he didn’t stop. Even when she took a sharp breath of air for herself so she wouldn’t pass out, his strokes kept going. Even when she reached back and clawed at his torso. Not purposely, but she needed to ground herself or else—

“You gon’ cum on this dick. Stop fuckin touchin’ me and get that nut!”

His demands felt more like warnings with how he drilled into her without a care, and she couldn’t deny the demand if she wanted to.

“FUUUUCKKKK! UHHHH-”

“Uh-huh! Get that fuckin’ nut. Wet my shit up!”

He nods, watching her ass make ocean waves with every slap of his hips.

His voice shook just as much as hers as juices rained from between her thighs, her body shaking so much that her knees were beginning to slip from their positions, making her collapse flat.

There were five more thrusts that came after that before he was slipping out of her, his hard dick landing on top of her plump ass with a wet ‘plap’. wether on purpose or not, he was cumming all over her back with moans of her name leaving his mouth before using his thumb to push himself down through her ass cheeks and back to her wet opening, shooting the rest of his release inside of her warm walls.

He ground down on her a few times to finish; slow, just enough to give her another shiver up her spine before he was pulling back out, pleased and halfway limp.

✮✮✮✮

“I knew I should have made yo’ ass meet me in the library” She mumbles against his chest, smelling the scent of soap on him that they just used in the shower.

A tired chuckle leaves his lips as he pulls her closer to his side. Her bed was much more comfy than the couch.

“You knew exactly what you was doin’ bringin’ me here”

She sucks her teeth. “I’m innocent. That was all you”

✮✮✮✮

💌—this was- idk. i’m getting back into writing my own ideas again so feedback, likes, comments etc is appreciated <3