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Back from college and staying with your dad in his shitty apartment complex, the older man... your neighbor next door has been noticing you, just as you have?
ಇ.content & warnings: porn with no plot :: non canon au :: reader is implied to be thicc :: age gaps - (reader is 19-20, Toji is in his Mid 30s) :: older neighbour trope :: touching through clothes :: kissing :: oral f.rec :: pussyjobs :: multi-gasms :: p in v :: spitting :: different sex positions? :: anal play - (thumb) :: c-pied :: description's of sex and anatomy was meant to be more on the 'graphic side' ::
The back porch of apartment 07 was nothing special — just cracked concrete painted a faded green years ago, a single wobbly plastic chair, and a rusted railing that overlooked the narrow strip of shared yard nobody ever used. Summer heat clung to everything like wet cotton, thick and slow even now that the sun had dipped low enough to turn the sky bruised purple.
You’d been inside all day, scrolling on your phone until your eyes ached, hoodie zipped halfway over a thin tank top because the AC was barely spitting cool air anymore. Shorts riding up high on your thighs, the soft cotton clinging where sweat had gathered at the crease of your hips.
Ninety degrees and no breeze, so you finally gave up and dragged yourself outside to sprawl on the single step, legs stretched long, bare feet dangling over the edge.
That’s when you saw him.
Toji Fushiguro, in apartment 08, right next door, he stepped out the side door with a black garbage bag in one scarred hand, in the same tight black t-shirt you’d seen him in a dozen times before, sleeves stretched tight around thick biceps, fabric clinging to the hard planes of his chest and stomach like it was painted on. Dark sweatpants slung low on narrow hips, the waistband showing a thin strip of tanned skin when he moved.
That scar sliced the corner of his mouth, pulling slightly when his lips twitched like he was always half a second from smirking at something only he found funny and black hair messy, damp at the temples from the heat or maybe from whatever he’d been doing inside his own place all day.
He didn’t look your way at first, he just hefts the bag into the big metal bin with one easy toss, muscles rolling under tanned skin, then wipes his forearm across his brow.
You should’ve looked away, should’ve pretended to stare at the sky or your chipped nail polish or literally anything else, but your eyes stayed glued, tracing the way his shoulders flexed when he turned, the slow roll of his neck as he cracked it side to side and maybe he felt it, because those sharp green eyes finally flicked over.
Eyes locking on yours.
Your stomach does a nasty, liquid flip. Not fear, exactly. Something hotter. Hungrier. You feel suddenly very aware of how your shorts are bunched high on your ass, how the hoodie’s ridden up to show the dip of your spine, how your thighs are parted just enough that if he looked lower he’d see the soft inner curve where skin meets cotton.
He didn’t smile, didn’t wave. Just stood there with one big hand still resting on the bin lid, staring like he had all night to decide what he wanted to do about the pretty little thing next door finally looking back.
Then he starts walking.
Not toward his apartment, towards you.
Each step, heavy. Bare feet on gravel and the closer he gets the more details you take in, faint sheen of sweat on his throat, the way veins stand out along his forearms and he stops at the edge of your porch slab, one foot planted on the rickety porch so he’s towering without even trying.
For a second the world narrows to just that look; heavy and unreadable, dragging down the length of your sprawled body like he was cataloging every inch. The hoodie half-open so the thin tank underneath showed the soft dip between your breasts, nipples pebbled from the sudden shift in temperature and maybe something else, your shorts bunched high enough that the plump curve where thigh met hip was on full display, cotton stretched tight across your mound.
You felt the fabric pull snug there, outlining the soft curve of your pussy in a way that made heat crawl up your neck, shifting your thighs together instinctively — only making it worse. A tiny damp spot had already started blooming at the crotch from hours of lazy daydreams and the sticky summer air.
You swallow. Throat dry. “Hi,” it comes out smaller than you meant.
Toji’s scarred mouth twitches barely. “Hey.”
Voice low and rough around the edges like gravel dragged over velvet. One word and it already felt like he’d put his palm flat on your sternum and pressed.
You sat up a little straighter, hoodie slipping off one shoulder. “You’re… Toji, right? My dad said you’re the quiet one.”
He huffed through his nose, the closest thing to a laugh you’d ever heard from him. “Yeah. That’s me.” He took one slow step closer. “And you’re the kid who’s been runnin’ around in those little shorts all summer.”
Your breath hitched, you're not a kid. Not really, but the way he said it with that lazy drawl, his eyes dropping to where your thighs are pressed together, made your clit throb under the cotton like he’d reached out and thumbed it.
“I’m not a kid,” you mumbled, cheeks burning. “I’m nineteen, almost twenty.”
Toji’s brows lifted just a fraction. “Almost twenty,” he echoed, like he was tasting the words. Another step forward, now he was close enough you could smell him; clean sweat, faint soap, something darker underneath like motor oil and cedar. “Old enough to know better than to sit out here lookin’ like that when it’s just you and me.”
Your heart slammed against your ribs. You tried to play it cool, tugging the hem of your hoodie down like it would hide anything. “It’s hot. I just wanted air.”
“Mm.” His gaze slid lower again, shamelessly, lingering on the visible outline of your pussy lips printed through the thin shorts, plump, puffy, already so swollen from nothing but his proximity. “Looks like you’re feelin’ more than just the heat, sweetheart.”
The pet name landed like a spark on dry grass, and you squeezed your thighs tighter, but that only made the damp cotton drag against your slick folds. A tiny, involuntary whimper slipped out before you could catch it.
Toji’s eyes darkened. He crouched slowly, his big body folding with surprising grace, until he was eye-level with you on the step. Forearms resting on spread thighs, scarred hands dangling loose between his knees. So close you can see the faint sheen of sweat on his collarbone, the way his happy trail disappears under the waistband, dark and tempting.
He tilts his head, just enough that the dying sunlight cuts across the sharp line of his jaw. Moss-green eyes drag from your bare legs up up up- slowly and unapologetic. Lingers on the bare strip of stomach where your hoodie’s rucked up. On the way your shorts cling to the plump curve of your ass, aaaaall the way up to your face like he’s cataloguing every inch he’s already seen a hundred times through cracked blinds.
“Been seein’ you around,” he says. Voice quieter now and allmost intimate. “You live next door, right? Your old man’s girl.”
Not a question again.
You nod anyway. Tongue feeling too big in your mouth.
“Yeah. I’m… back for summer break.”
He hums, deep in his chest. The sound vibrates through the humid air straight into your bones.
“Didn’t figure you’d be out here lookin’ like that,” his eyes glance to your lips then back up to your eyes, “always out this late too huh, doll?”
You blink. “...You noticed?”
Another almost-laugh. “Hard not to.”
Heat floods your cheeks. You’re suddenly hyper-aware of every inch of exposed skin. The way your nipples have pebbled against the thin hoodie fabric from the slight breeze or maybe just from him looking at you like that.
“You been watchin’ me too, huh?” he murmurs. Voice softer than you expect. Almost gentle. “Every time you come out here. Corner store. Back porch. Thought I didn’t notice?”
Your lips parted, no sound comes out at first. Then, barely a whisper, “I… I thought you didn’t.”
“Wrong.” One big hand lifts slow, carefully and the rough pad of his thumb brushes the edge of your hoodie sleeve where it had slipped down your shoulder. Goosebumps erupts across everywhere he almost touches. “Been noticin’ you since the first day you walked by in those jeans. Ass hugged so tight I could see the outline of your panties. Thought about bendin’ you over the railing right then.”
Heat floods between your thighs so fast your vision blurs and you can feel yourself leaking now, slow, syrupy slick soaking through your cotton panties, darkening the crotch of your shorts in an obvious little patch. His eyes drops to it immediately.
“Fuck,” he breathes, almost laboured. “Look at that. Sweet little pussy already cryin’ for me and I haven’t even touched you yet.”
You whimper again, louder this time, hips shifting forward on instinct, chasing nothing.
“You alone tonight?” he asks. Casually, like he’s asking about the weather.
You nod, throat dry. “Dad’s working late again, always is.”
Toji hums, low in his chest. The sound vibrates through the air into your palms.
He reaches out, slow enough that you could pull away if you wanted.
You don’t.
Thick fingers catch the hem of your hoodie where it’s ridden up over your hip and he doesn’t pull it down. Just tugs it a little higher, exposing another inch of soft skin. His thumb brushes the edge of your shorts, barely a graze, but it feels like he’s touching you somewhere much more intimate.
“These are reaaaaal short,” he drawls. Voice gone darker. “You always walk around in shit like this?”
Your heart slams against your ribs. “Sometimes.”
He exhales through his nose, almost a growl.
“Careful, sweetheart.” His thumb presses just barely into the crease where thigh meets ass. “Lots of eyes around here.”
You’re trembling now and its not from fear, its from the sudden, vicious ache blooming low in your belly. Your thighs press together on instinct and he notices. Of course he does.
Toji’s eyes flick down to where your legs squeeze, then back up to your face, that smirk of his deepens.
“You scared of me?” he asks softly, almost sweet — if sweet could be laced with this much danger.
You shake your head, barely.
“Liar,” he says but he sounds pleased.
His hand slides higher, his fingers splaying wide across the small of your back, his palm is hot and rough as calluses drag against your skin like a promise. He doesn’t push you down. Doesn’t need to, you’re already melting into the floor boards, arching just enough that your ass lifts a fraction — offering.
He groans quietly and guttural, the first real crack in that cool exterior.
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. “You’re trouble.”
You lick your lips, voice barely there. “You gonna do something about it?”
His eyes snap to yours. Dark, predatory.
For one endless second neither of you moves.
Your breath hitches when his gaze drops again — straight to the damp patch you know is starting to show. The cotton’s darker there now, clinging, outlining the plump shape of your pussy lips so clearly it’s obscene. You’re soaked, have been since you noticed him watching. And he can fucking see it.
“Pretty little thing like you,” he murmurs, voice dropping to something dangerous-soft, “sittin’ out here all needy. Drippin’ through your shorts for the old man next door.”
Your mouth falls open on a shaky gasp. No denial. No lie. Just liquid heat, shameful heat — flooding between your legs at his words.
Toji’s eyes darken and hooks one thick finger under the hem of your shorts. Doesn’t pull them down. Just lifts the fabric the tiniest bit, letting it snap back against the crease of your thigh with a soft thwack.
“Bet these panties are fuckin’ ruined,” he says, almost conversationally. “All wet and clingy, pushin’ up against the seam, yeah?”
You whimper high and helpless, hips shifting forward before you can stop them.
He chuckles, low and mean. “Knew it.”
Toji’s hand moves again, this time cupping the side of your face, thumb stroking slow along your jaw. Calluses rough against your soft skin. “Pretty thing,” he murmured. “So shy. So needy. Bet you’ve been touchin’ yourself thinkin’ about the mean neighbour next door, huh? Imaginin’ what these hands would feel like spreadin’ you open.”
Your head tipped into his palm. Eyes fluttering. “Y-yes…”
“Good girl.” Praise hits like honey dripping down your spine. He leaned in closer — close enough his breath fanned your glossed lips. “Gonna kiss you now. Wanna taste how sweet that pouty mouth is before I ruin the rest of you.”
You nodded with frantic little jerks of your head.
Then his mouth is on yours.
Soft at first, just the brush of scarred lips over your glossy ones, tasting artificial cherry and nervous salt. He groaned low in his throat the second your mouths connect, like he’d been starving for it, his big hand slides to the nape of your neck, fingers threading into your hair, tilting your head exactly how he wants so he could lick slow into the seam of your lips.
You opened for him instantly. Tongue shy and tentative, his is thicker, hotter, curling against yours with lazy confidence. He kisses like he had nowhere else to be, like he could spend hours just licking into your mouth, swallowing every tiny whimper you give him.
“So fuckin’ sweet,” he mumbles against your lips between slow, wet kisses. “Taste like summer, like you’ve been waitin’ for this.”
His other hand finds your thigh, palming the plush inner meat, squeezing gently, thumb stroking higher and higher until it grazes the damp edge of your shorts, not pushing inside. Just petting. Soothing. Praising.
“Doin’ so good for me already,” he whispers, nipping your bottom lip. “Letting me kiss you like this. Letting me feel how wet you are just from my mouth. Such a good girl f'me already.”
You moan into his kiss loud and needy — hips canting up so his thumb presses firmer against the soaked outline of your pussy. He growls softly, rewarding you with another deep, filthy lick into your mouth.
The kiss turns hungrier. Wetter. His tongue fucks slow and deliberately into yours while his hand kneads your thigh, inching closer to where you ache most — never quite touching your clit, just circling, teasing, making you drip more and more until the cotton’s clinging transparently to every swollen fold.
He pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, breath ragged, green eyes blown black with want.
“Tell me you want more,” he raspes. Voice wrecked. “Tell me you want my hands on you. My mouth. Everything.”
Your lips trembles, gloss smeared and eyes glassy.
“I want it,” you breathe. “Want you…please, Toji…”
He smiled then slowly, gaze darkening but still so gentle when his thumb brushes your cheek again.
“Good girl,” he purred.
And then he kissed you deeper — claiming, devouring, promising every filthy thing he's about to do to you next.
His mouth is still on yours hot, slow and filthy in the best way. Tongue sliding deep, curling lazy against yours like he's mapping every soft inch of your mouth, tasting the cherry gloss you’d slicked on earlier just because you felt pretty.
Toji kisses like a man who’s waited too long to taste something sweet and now couldn’t get enough. A big hand cradles the back of your neck, thumb stroking the sensitive spot just under your ear while the other squeezes the plush meat of your inner thigh — fingers digging in just enough to make your hips twitch forward, chasing more pressure against the soaked cotton clinging to your pussy.
You were drowning in it. Brain turning to warm syrup, every thought melting into the wet drag of his tongue, the faint scrape of his scar against your lower lip when he sucks it between his teeth. Soft little whimpers bubbling out of you every time he pulls back just to nip, just to breathe a rough “good girl” against your mouth before diving back in deeper.
Your hands found his shoulders somewhere in the haze, your fingertips digging into hard muscles under that tight black shirt, feeling the heat rolling off him like a furnace. He smells so good up close; clean sweat, faint cologne that clung to his neck, something darker and masculine underneath that made your clit throb harder every time you inhaled.
When he finally eases back — barely an inch, forehead pressing to yours, your lips swollen, gloss smeared across both your mouths, strings of spit connecting when yours part. You were panting, chest heaving under the half-zipped hoodie, nipples tight and aching against the thin tank.
Toji’s green eyes were blown black, pupils eating up the color as he stares down at you like you were the only thing left in the world worth looking at. His thumb brushing slowly over your bottom lip, spreading the mess even more.
“Fuck, look at this mouth,” he murmurs, voice gravel-rough and wrecked. “All glossy and puffy from just my kisses. Bet it’d look even prettier wrapped around my cock.”
The words hit you like a slap of heat. Your thighs clenching hard — slick gushing fresh against your already drenched panties, the cotton so wet now it was sticking transparently to every plump fold. You could feel the outline of your pussy lips print shamelessly through the shorts, fat and swollen… begging.
You tried to speak — tried to be smart, to play it cool, but your brain was mush, words tumbling out careless and needy.
“W-wanna… come inside?” you breathed, barely coherent. “For… for a drink. Or… something. Please.”
Toji’s scarred lips curves slow and predatory, but still so fucking gentle when his thumb strokes your cheek again.
“Yeah?” he rasps. “You invitin’ the old man next door inside while your daddy’s gone? Careful, sweetheart. I might'n wanna leave once I get my hands on you proper.”
Your head bobs, frantical little nods. “I… I don’t want you to leave.”
He groans low in his throat, like the confession physically hurt him in the best way. Then he was standing, a slow roll of his muscles as he rose to his full height, now towering over you on the step. One big hand extended down.
“C’mon then pretty girl. Show me where you live.”
You take his hand, your small fingers swallowed up in his scarred palm and you let him pull you up. Legs shaky, thighs slick where they're rubbing together. The second you're standing he tugs you closer, arm banding around your waist so your soft body presses flush to his hard one. You could feel him, thick and heavy…his cock already half-hard and straining against his sweatpants, nudging insistently against your lower belly.
“Fuck,” he mutters into your hair, inhaling deep like he was trying to memorize your scent. “Smell's so sweet. Bet you taste even better between those thighs.”
He walks you the few steps to your door like that, an arm possessive around you, free hand palming slow over the curve of your ass through your shorts, squeezing the plush flesh like he was testing how soft you really are. You fumble the key with trembling fingers and he just chuckles low against your ear.
“Easy, baby. We got all night.”
The door finally opens. You stumble inside, the dim living room lit up only by the lamp you’d left on, the cheap couch, scattered textbooks from last semester you hadn’t bothered to put away. Toji kicks the door shut behind him without looking, then spun you gently until your back hits the wall beside it.
He didn’t crowd you right away. Just stood there, close enough you could feel his heat, but giving you that one last second to back out if you wanted.
You didn’t.
Instead you tipped your head back, lips parting eyes glassy and pleading.
Toji’s hand came up and cupsyour jaw so gently it made your chest ache, his thumb stroking over your swollen bottom lip again.
“Look at you,” he whispers, voice thick with something almost reverent. “So fuckin’ pretty. So young and soft and already drippin’ for a man old enough to know better. You know how filthy that is, sweetheart? How wrong?”
You whimpered, nodding your hips canting forward so the damp crotch of your shorts brushes the hard line of his cock through his sweats.
“Feels right to me,” you breathe out needy.
His eyes flutters shut for a second — like your words punched the air out of him. Then he was kissing you again, deeper this time, hungrier. Tongue fucking slow into your mouth while both hands slid down to grip your thighs, lifting you easy like you weighed nothing. Your legs wraps around his waist on instinct; he pins you to the wall with his hips, his thick cock grinding slow against your soaked pussy through layers of fabric.
You moaned loud into his mouth, a desperate, broken sound.
“That’s it,” he praises against your lips, rocking slow and deliberately. “Grind on it, baby, let me feel how wet you are for me. Soaked right through these little shorts… fuck, I can smell you. Sweet little cunt cryin’ for cock.”
His hands kneads your ass rough, spreading you open even through your clothes, his fingertips dipping under the hem of your shorts to brush the edge of your drenched panties. You jolt at the contact and he just shushes you softly by kissing the corner of your mouth.
“Doin’ so good,” he murmurs. “Such a good girl lettin’ me touch. Gonna take care of you, yeah? Gonna make this pretty pussy feel so full… but imma take my time. Wanna savor every second of ruinin’ you.”
You were shaking, your whole body trembling with need, clit throbbing against the drag of his cock every time he rolls his hips. Slick had soaked through everything now and you could feel it smearing against him, making the fabric cling obscenely.
“Toji…” His name comes out wrecked, pleading. “Please… need you.”
He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark, tender and filthy all at once.
“I know, sweetheart,” he rasps, pressing one last soft kiss to your forehead. “I know. Gonna give you everything. But first…”
His hand slid between your bodies and cups your pussy over the shorts, his palm grinds slow against your swollen clit while two thick fingers traces the soaked outline of your lips through the cotton.
“Gonna make you come like this first,” he promises, voice low and wrecked with want. “Just from my hand, m'gonna watch this sweet little thing soak my fingers before I even get inside you. You gonna be good and come for me, baby?”
Your head falls back against the wall, eyes rolling, your hips already chasing his palm in frantic little circles.
“Y-yes… yes, please… Toji…”
He smiles slowly, dangerous and adoring.
“That’s my girl.”
And then he kisses you again deeper and filthy, while his hand works unhurried, perfect little circles over your dripping cunt, building you up slow and sweet until you’re trembling on the edge, ready to fall apart for the quiet neighbour who’d finally let you into his world.
Toji didn’t set you down.
Not even for a second.
The second your shaky “yes” left your lips he scoops you up like you weigh nothing, his big scarred hands sliding under the plush meat of your thighs, lifting you clean off the floor so your legs had no choice but to wrap tight around his narrow waist.
Your soaked shorts presses right against the thick, heavy ridge of his cock straining through his sweatpants, and the friction made you whimper into his mouth — high, the needy sound swallowed by another slow, filthy kiss.
Toji doesn’t even glance at the couch, he heads straight for your bedroom door instead. “Wanna take this where I can spread you out proper. Where I can watch every little thing that pretty face does when I make you come apart.”
Your arms loops around his neck — fingers digging into the short black hair at his nape, clinging like he's the only solid thing left in your world. He carries you down the short hallway like that, feet heavy on the cheap laminate, every step grinding his cock against your dripping pussy through the thin layers. You could feel how hard he is — thick, hot and pulsing, already leaking enough that a damp spot had started blooming on his sweats where your slick had soaked through everything.
Your bedroom door was half-open already. Small room — nothing fancy. Twin bed pushed against one wall with rumpled pastel sheets you hadn’t bothered making, fairy lights strung lazy across the headboard from last semester, a cluttered desk with half-finished college notes and empty energy drink cans. Window cracked, letting in the thick summer night air. It smells faintly like your vanilla body spray and the faint laundry detergent on your sheets.
Toji kicks the door shut behind him, a soft click of the latch sealing you both in and crosses the small space in three strides, he didn’t bother with the light. The glow from a dim lamp on your table and those soft fairy lights was enough — warm, hazy, turning his sharp features golden and making the scar on his mouth look even more wicked when he smirked down at you.
He lowered you slow onto the edge of the mattress carefully, almost worshipful, until your ass hit the comforter and your legs dangles off. But he didn’t step back. Just stayed between your spread thighs, towering, broad shoulders blocking out the rest of the room.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice thick with something soft and hungry all at once. Big hands sliding up your sides, under the hem of your hoodie this time, his palms rough and warm dragging slow over the soft curve of your waist, thumbs brushing the underside of your tits through the thin tank. “So fuckin’ soft everywhere. Plush little body just beggin’ to be touched.”
You shiver, your whole body trembling as his hands keep roaming. Up your ribs, over the swell of your breasts, squeezing gently through fabric until your nipples peaks hard against his palms.
Then back down, his fingertips tracing the gentle pooch of your tummy, dipping into the soft dip of your navel, spreading wide to span the width of your lower belly like he was measuring how perfectly you’d fit under him.
His eyes drop lower, locking on the obscene wet spot darkening your shorts. The cotton plastered to your pussy now, every plump, fattened lip outlined clear as day, swollen clit peeking through like a needy little button begging for attention.
Slick soaked all the way through your cotton panties underneath, making the fabric sheer and clinging, showing the glossy sheen of your arousal coating every fold.
“Jesus,” he breathes, almost dazed. “Can’t even hide it, can you? Fat little cunt just printin’ out for me, drippin’ right through everything. Been leakin’ like this since I kissed you on the porch, huh?”
You nodded frantically, cheeks burning, your hips shifting forward on instinct so the soaked crotch of your shorts brushes his thigh.
Toji groans low, a deep rumble in his chest, then leans down, caging you with his arms braced on either side of your hips. His mouth finds your neck — hot, open-mouthed kisses trailing slow from under your ear down the column of your throat. He sucks gently at first, his lips sealing over soft skin, tongue flicking — then harder.
Teeth grazing just enough to sting before he soothes it with slow laps, blooming dark purple bruises one after another like he was marking territory.
“Good girl,” he whispers between sucks, voice muffled against your skin. “Lettin’ me mark you up like this. Gonna look so pretty tomorrow, little love bites all over this sweet neck so everyone knows who’s been takin’ care of you.”
His hands never stops moving, he slides them under your hoodie again, pushing the fabric up slowly until it bunches under your tits. Callused palms dragging over bare skin now, the rough texture making you arch, you let out a faint gasp, as his fingers splays wide over your soft tummy, kneading gently like he couldn’t get enough of how plush you were there.
“Love this,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the corner of your jaw. “This soft little belly. Gonna watch it bounce when I’m fuckin’ you deep later. Gonna feel it quiver when you come all over my cock.”
You were whimpering nonstop now, your brain goopy, thoughts reduced to nothing but the heat of his mouth, the weight of his hands, the slow grind of his hips every time he shifts closer. He was still fully clothed, his tight black shirt stretching over thick pecs and sharp-cut abs, sweatpants slung low but you could feel every ridge of muscle flexing against you when he moved. Solid. Unyielding. Cutting through the thin layers like he was already inside you.
Toji pulls back just enough to look at your face, eyes dark, tender and filthy with want. Thumb brushing over one of the fresh bruises on your throat, a gentle stroke that made you shiver.
“Doin’ so good for me, baby,” he praises, voice low and steady. “Look how pretty you are.” Your eyes were all glassy, lips swollen, pussy so wet he could hear it every time you shift. “Gonna take my time with you, m'gonna touch every inch, talk you through it nice and slow till you’re shakin’ and beggin’.”
One hand slides down, cupping your soaked mound over the shorts, his palm grinding slow against your clit while thick fingers traces the plump outline of your lips through the fabric. Not pushing inside yet. Just petting. Soothing. Building.
“Feel that?” he whispers, pressing firmer so you could feel how your slick squelches against his palm. “That’s all for me. Sweet little thing gettin’ this messy just from my kisses and my hands. Such a good girl. My good girl.”
You moan, loud and broken, your head tipping back as your hips rolls up into his touch.
He kisses you again, his tongue sliding against yours while his hand keeps that lazy rhythm between your thighs. The other stays on your tummy, rubbing slow circles over the soft pudge, possessive and adoring all at once.
“Gonna watch you fall apart, sweetheart,” he promised against your mouth. “Gonna make this pretty pussy cum so hard you see stars. And then I’m gonna do it again. And again. Till you’re too fucked-out to think about anything but me.”
His fingers hooks under the waistband of your shorts slowly tugging it downward, just enough to bare the top of your drenched panties.
“Ready for more?” he murmurs, nipping your bottom lip. “Gonna strip you and kiss every bruise I leave, spread these plush thighs and taste how sweet you are.”
Your answer was a shaky nod, eyes locked on his and pleading.
Toji smiles slow, dangerous and so fucking gentle.
“That’s my girl.”
And then he starts peeling your hoodie off slowly, his hands worshipping every new inch of bare skin he uncovers, mouth following right behind with more soft kisses and praise, ready to unravel you piece by trembling piece on your little twin bed while the summer night presses warm against the window.
Toji pulls back from your neck, his lips shiny with spit, a fresh bruise blooming dark and pretty under your jaw and his eyes drops to your face. You were a wreck already, cheeks flushing hot, eyes glassy and half-lidded, mouth hanging open in soft little pants.
A thin string of drool had slipped from the corner of your lips, trailing slow down your chin like you’d forgotten how to swallow. Fuck. The sight punches straight through him, making his cock twitch hard against the damp front of his sweats, thickening even more until the fat head was outlined clear as day through the gray cotton.
“Jesus, sweetheart,” he rasps, voice thick and wrecked. “Look at you droolin’ for me already. Can’t even keep that pretty mouth closed.”
He leans in slow, his big hand cupping the side of your face, thumb sweeping under your lower lip to catch the mess. But instead of wiping it away he just smears it wider and then dips down and licks it up himself, tongue flat and hot dragging slowly from your chin to the corner of your mouth, tasting the sweet-salty mix of your spit and his earlier kisses. You whimper the sound coming out high and broken as he seals his scarred lips over yours again in one sloppy, open-mouthed kiss.
Tongues sliding messy and wet, no rhythm left. Just hunger. He sucks your bottom lip between his teeth with a gentle tug and then plunges back in, licking deep into your mouth like he was trying to drink every drop of you.
Drool spilling between your lips, stringing down your chin again, soaking into the collar of your tank. You're making the filthiest little noises, soft, wet glucks every time his tongue licks into you and he groans low against your mouth, swallowing them all down.
“Such a messy girl,” he murmurs between kisses, nipping your tongue. “Doin’ so good though. Lettin’ me lick it all up. My sweet, sloppy baby.”
He breaks the kiss with a wet pop, a string of spit connecting your mouths for a second before it snaps and he sits back on his heels between your spread thighs. His eyes raking down your body slowly, like he was memorizing every inch. Hoodie shoved up to your tits, tank rucked under them so the soft undersides spilled out.
Shorts still on but soaked dark at the crotch, clinging transparently to the plump mound of your pussy. The fat lips were printed perfect through the cotton — swollen, puffy, glossy with thick gluey slick that had leaked through your panties and was now starting to drip down the crease of your thighs, making shiny wet trails on your sheets.
Toji’s mouth waters so hard he has to swallow. His cock was rock-hard now — veined, fattened, throbbing painfully against his sweats. He palmed it once, roughly squeezed it through the fabric, just to take the edge off. The head leaking more, darkening the gray in a fat wet spot right at the tip. But he didn’t care about himself yet. Not when your pretty soaked pussy was right there, begging for his mouth.
“Fuck,” he breathes, voice strained. “Look at this messy little thing.” So sticky. So sappy. “Drippin’ all over your bed like you can’t help it.”
He hooks two thick fingers under the waistband of your shorts, slowly tugging it down your hips. You lifted for him on instinct, — a shaky little arch and he peels them off along with your drenched panties in one go. The fabric stuck for a second — clinging to your slick folds before coming free with a wet schlick. Strings of thick, glossy arousal stretching between the cotton and your pussy, snapping slow as he tosses them aside.
Your legs fell open wider, your knees bent, feet planted on the mattress and there it was; your pussymound all shiny and swollen, lips puffy and parted just enough to show the sticky pretty inside. Slick coating everything — thick, gluey strands webbing between your folds, dripping slow down to your tight little hole that clenched on nothing.
Your clit was begging — fattened, flushed dark, peeking out from its hood like it was throbbing for attention. The whole thing glistened under the fairy lights — sappy, cummy, so fucking wet it looked obscene.
Toji groaned deeply, a guttural sound coming from his chest. His hands slid up your plush thighs, spreading you wider, thumbs hooking under the meat where thigh met hip so he could hold you open. Your pussy lips parted more, the sticky strings stretching, then breaking, revealing the creamy mess inside.
“Goddamn,” he whispers, almost to himself. “Prettiest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever seen. All swollen and leaking for me. Gonna taste every drop, baby. Gonna lick this sweet cunt clean till you’re shakin’.”
You whimper high and desperate, your hips twitching up toward his face.
He leaned in slow, his hot breath fanning over your clit first, making it jump. Then his tongue, flat and wide dragged up the entire length of your slit in one long, slow lick. From your dripping hole to the tip of your clit. Thick gluey slick coated his tongue instantly, sweet, tangy, so fucking much of it he had to swallow hard. He groaned against you, the vibration rumbling straight through your core.
“So sweet,” he praised, voice muffled as he licked again — slower this time, savoring it. “Taste like fuckin’ heaven. My good girl’s pussy all creamy and ready. Doin’ so perfect for me.”
His tongue circled your clit, with gentle flicks at first, then slower, broad laps that made your hips buck. One big hand slid up to your soft tummy, his palm spreading wide over the plush curve, holding you down gentle while his mouth worked. The other kept your thigh spread, thumb stroking soothing circles on the inner meat while he sucked your clit between his lips, a soft pull, then releasing, then pulling again.
You were moaning nonstop loud and wrecked, the sounds filling the small room. Slick gushing fresh with every lick — thick ropes of it coating his chin, dripping down his neck. He didn’t stop, just kept on lapping messy and hungry, his tongue dipping into your tight hole to scoop out more of that gluey cream, then dragging back up to suckle your clit like it was candy.
“Look at her clenchin’,” he murmured between licks, eyes flicking up to watch your face. “So tight and needy. Gonna come for me like this, yeah? Gonna let me drink all this pretty mess while you fall apart?”
His tongue plunged deeper, fucking slow into your hole, then he pulled out to circle your clit again, the hand on your tummy pressed firmer, feeling the way your muscles quivered under his palm.
“That’s it, baby,” he cooed, voice thick with praise. “Doin’ so good. Such a sweet girl lettin’ me eat this pussy. Gonna make you come so hard you soak my face. Then I’m gonna do it again. Gonna keep goin’ till you’re cryin’ my name.”
He sucked harder, his lips sealing around your clit, tongue flicking faster now and your whole body arched, your thighs shaking, hands fisting the sheets, drool slipping from your open mouth again as the pleasure coiled tight and hot in your belly.
Toji didn’t let up, he just kept licking slow and filthy, worshipfully talking you through every tremor, every gush of slick, every broken whimper.
“My perfect girl,” he rasped against your dripping cunt. “Come for me, sweetheart. Let me taste how good I make you feel.”
And with one more long, slow drag of his tongue — circling your begging clit just right — you shattered.
You came hard, harder than you ever had alone in this little bed with your fingers or with that cheap little vibe tucked in your drawer. Your whole body seized up like lightning hit your spine, thighs clamping around Toji’s head on instinct, plush hips bucking wild against his mouth while thick ropes of slick gushed straight onto his tongue.
Your clit throbbing against his lips — fat, swollen, pulsing like a second heartbeat — and he didn’t pull away. Didn’t even flinch. Just groaned deep into your cunt like the taste of your orgasm was the only thing he’d been starving for all summer.
“Thaaat’s it,” he rasped, voice muffled and wrecked against your dripping folds. “Come all over my face, sweetheart. Fuck, look at her spillin’ for me. So sweet. So fuckin’ messy.”
He kept licking slow, greedy — greedy laps through the aftermath — cleaning up every fresh gush like he couldn’t bear to waste a drop. Your pussy lips were puffy and flushed dark now, glossy with spit and cum, parting easy every time his tongue nudged between them. Slick coated his chin, dripping down his scarred neck in shiny trails, soaked into the collar of his black shirt. The fairy lights caught it all — turning the mess iridescent, obscene, beautiful.
You were shaking, overstimulated already, clit so sensitive it hurt in the best way, but Toji wasn’t done. Not even close. Man-starved didn’t even cover it, he ate like he’d been denied pussy his whole life and yours was the first real meal he’d ever had. Toji after a moment hooked his fingers into the underside of his shirt and pulled it off in one fluid motion.
Then his big hands shoved your thighs wider, thumbs hooking under the crease where thigh met hip, spreading you so open your tight little hole winked at him with every clench.
He pulled back just enough to look, eyes black with hunger, pupils blown wide watching the way your fattened lips trembled, the way thick gluey strings of your arousal stretched between them like spider silk every time you fluttered.
“Goddamn,” he breathed softly. “This pretty cunt’s still cryin’ for more. Look how she’s clenchin’… all tight and needy even after comin’ that hard. Fuck, baby… you’re killin’ me.”
He dove back in — lips sealing over your clit again, sucking soft at first, then harder. Wet, filthy pulls that made your hips jerk, made your back arch off the mattress until your tits spilled free from under the rucked-up tank. His tongue flicked fast over the swollen bud — quick little lashes — then slowed to broad, dragging circles that had you sobbing.
“Toj i— f-fuck — too much — s’too much — ”
“Shhh,” he soothed without stopping, voice vibrating straight through your core. “You can take it. Doin’ so good for me. My perfect girl. Just lemme taste a little more. Gotta drink every drop this sweet pussy’s givin’ me.”
He licked lower, his tongue plunging slow into your tight hole, fucking in and out with lazy thrusts that made obscene wet squelches fill the room. Your walls fluttered around him greedily, sucking at his tongue like they wanted to keep him inside forever. He groaned — deep, guttural — then pulled out just to spit right onto your clit. A thick glob of his saliva landed hot and heavy, mixing with your slick, running down your folds in slow rivulets.
You whimpered, high and broken when he blew a soft puff of air over the mess, his cool breath hitting your overheated, spit-slick clit like ice on fire. Your whole pussy jolted — clit jumping, hole clenching hard enough to push out another bead of thick cream that dripped slow down your ass.
“Fuck yeah,” he growled, watching it with dark, fascinated eyes. “Look at her twitch. Sensitive little thing. Love how she jumps when I blow on her. Gonna make her come again just like this.” You were overstimulated and shaking.
He sucked your clit back into his mouth, gently this time, lips soft around the swollen bud while his tongue lapped slow, soothing circles. One hand slid up your soft tummy, his palm spreading wide over the soft give of skin, fingers splaying to feel every quiver of your muscles.
The other kept your thigh pinned, thumb stroking slow, reassuring circles on the inner skin like he was petting you through the overstimulation.
“Such a good girl,” he murmured between sucks, pulling off just long enough to speak before diving back in. “Lettin’ me eat this messy cunt even when it’s too much. Takin’ everything I give you. So pretty when you cry for me like this.”
He licked into you again, deeper this time, his tongue curling to scoop out the thickest parts of your cream, feeding it back to your pussy with slow, filthy thrusts. Then he pulled out, lips shiny, chin dripping and spat again. Right onto your hole this time, watching it slide in, mixing with your slick until everything was glossy and obscene.
“Breathe, baby,” he cooed, blowing another soft puff over your clit, watching it throb, watching your hips buck helplessly. “Just breathe. M'gonna make you come again. Gonna suck this pretty clit till you’re soakin’ the sheets even more. Wanna see how many times I can make her gush before you’re beggin’ me to fuck you.”
Your hands flew to his hair — fingers tangling in the black strands, pulling hard enough to make him growl against you. But he loved it, loved the way you were falling apart and drooling again, spit slipping from the corner of your mouth, eyes rolling back as another wave built fast and brutal in your belly.
He sucked harder — lips sealing tight, cheeks hollowing — tongue flicking relentless over your clit while he hummed low, vibrations rumbling straight through you. His free hand pressed firmer on your tummy, feeling the way your muscles clenched, the way your whole body trembled on the edge.
“Come on, sweetheart,” he praised, voice thick and wrecked. “Give it to me. Come all over my tongue again. Let me taste how overstimulated this sweet pussy gets for me. My good girl, my perfect, messy, drippin’ girl.”
One more long, slow drag of his tongue, circling your clit just right, then plunging back into your clenching hole and you shattered again. Harder. Louder, your whole body convulsing, thighs shaking around his head, slick gushing in thick spurts that coated his mouth, his chin and the sheets beneath you.
Toji drank it all — groaning like a man possessed — licking slow through the aftershocks, soothing your twitching clit with soft kitten licks while you sobbed his name, overstimulated and wrecked and still so fucking needy for more.
He finally pulled back — lips swollen, face a mess of spit and cum, his eyes locking on yours with that dark, adoring hunger.
“Fuck, baby,” he rasped, crawling up your body slow, caging you under his broad frame. “You taste like sin. Like every filthy thing I’ve ever wanted.”
His mouth found yours, in a slow, deep kiss letting you taste yourself on his tongue. Thick fingers sliding between your thighs again and petting your soaked, puffy pussy gentle now, soothing the oversensitive folds.
“Still shakin’,” he murmured against your lips, smiling soft and filthy. “Still drippin’. Think you can take my cock now, sweetheart? Or you need me to eat this pretty cunt one more time first?”
Your answer was a broken whimper — hips canting up toward his hand, begging without words.
He chuckled low, dark and tenderly.
“That’s my girl.”
Toji had finally pulled his mouth off your wrecked pussy — lips swollen dark red, his chin still glistening with thick ropes of your slick and his spit that stretched and snapped every time he moved.
He gave you one more slow, sweet savouring kiss to your sweet little lips before crouching back down between your trembling thighs for a second longer, just staring at the mess he’d made; your fat pussy mound all shiny and puffy, lips parted and drooling slow streams of cream down your ass, onto the already soaked sheets.
Your clit was a throbbing little pearl now — fattened up dark and glossy, peeking out like it was begging for one more touch even after two brutal orgasms. Your tight hole kept clenching on nothing — suckling air, pushing out fresh beads of gluey slick that made obscene wet sounds in the quiet room.
He groaned low, the sound ripping out from deep in his chest and he palmed his cock through his sweats again. Harder this time, giving it a rough squeeze that made the thick vein along the underside jump under his hand.
The front of the gray fabric was wrecked — a dark wet patch spreading from the fat, leaking tip, glossy pre soaking through in thick globs that clinged to the cotton like honey.
You saw the outline perfectly now; his fat fuckin’ cock all hardened up for you, swollen and heavy, curving slightly to the left, the round mushroom head so chubbed and probably flushed it looked angry.
“Fuck, look what you did to me, sweetheart,” he rasped, voice gravel-thick with want. “Got me so hard it hurts. Leakin’ like a faucet just from tastin’ this pretty cunt. You see how much pre I’m givin’ you? All for this messy little pussy.”
He shoved his sweats down slow enough to free himself, then kicked it off completely. His cock sprang out heavy the thick base dusted with dark curls of hair, shaft veined and ridged, fattened tip glossy with a fat pearl of pre that beaded at the pink slit and dripping slow down the underside.
It bobbed once, smacking wet against his abs, before he wrapped one scarred hand around the middle and gave himself one lazy stroke. More pre welled up — thick and clear — dribbling over his knuckles.
Your mouth watered. Your pussy clenched hard — sappy walls fluttering, clit jumping at the sight. You were so wet still — thicker now, gluey strands webbing between your lips every time your hips twitched.
Toji crawled back up your body, slow and carefully caging you in, under his broad frame. One thick forearm braced beside your head, the other hand guiding his cock down between your thighs. He didn’t push in…not yet. Just rubbing slow, filthy drags of that fattened round tip through your glossed folds.
The head was scorching hot — swelled up so big it parted your puffy lips easy, spreading them wide around the blunt crown. Your clammy, glued pussylips sucked at him, clinging wetly every time he dragged back, strings of your slick stretching from your hole to his tip like they didn’t want to let go. He nudged your clit with the slit, smearing thick pre over the aching bud — making it throb harder, making you whimper high and broken.
“Feel that?” he murmurs, voice low and mean-teasing as he rocked slow. “Fat fuckin’ cock all hardened up just for you.” Rubbin’ right through your glossy folds. “Y’er sweet little pussy’s kissin’ me back, suckin’ on the tip like she’s tryin’ to pull me in.”
You nodded — desperately, drool slipping from your open mouth again, hips canting up to chase more friction. Your clit was so achy, fattened and sensitive, every glide of his swollen head over it sent sparks shooting up your spine.
Toji chuckled, the sound breathless and dark — then pressed firmer. The round tip notched right at your entrance, stretching the tight ring just enough to make your hole flutter and suckle greedy around him. Not inside. Just teasing…just enough to feel how hot and wet and ready you were.
“Look how she’s grippin’,” he praised, eyes locked on where your pussy lips hugged the head of his cock — clinging, glossy, dripping. “Tight little hole sucklin’ like she’s starvin’. Fuck, baby, you’re so so wet. Drippin’ all over my dick before I even get in. Such a needy girl.”
He rocked against you slowly again, dragging that fattened tip up your slit to bump your clit, then back down to nudge your hole. Pre mixed with your slick, making everything slippery, obscene, the wet schlick, schlick, schlick filling the room every time he teased. Your clit throbbed harder, achy and begging, every time the ridge of his crown caught it just right.
“Toji…please—” Your voice cracked — high, pleading. “Need it… need you inside…”
He groaned, the deep rumble vibrating through both of you, then leaned down to kiss you lovingly, slow and sweet, his tongue sliding against yours while he kept that mean, teasing rhythm; fat tip rubbing through your folds, bumping your clit, nudging your hole, spreading you open without giving you what you craved.
“Not yet, sweetheart,” he whispered against your lips, voice wrecked with restraint. “Gonna tease this sweet pussy a little longer. Wanna feel how much wetter you get. Wanna watch this fat little cunt cry for my cock till you’re shakin’ and sobbin’.”
One big hand slid under your ass, lifting your hips just enough to change the angle. Now every slow drag had his swollen tip catching right on your entrance — stretching the rim, making your walls flutter desperate around nothing. Your clit dragged along the thick underside of his shaft, veins bumping the sensitive bud, sending fresh gushes of slick coating him.
“Feel how hard I am for you?” he rasped, rocking firmer. All his thick pre leakin’ “Just thinkin’ about sinkin’ into this tight, pretty cunt. You’re so fuckin’ wet, baby. So ready. But I wanna hear you beg a little more. Wanna hear how bad my good girl needs this fat cock stretchin’ her open.”
Your hands flew to his shoulders — nails digging into hard muscle, your hips rolling up frantically to chase his teasing. Slick squelching loud between you, gluey strands clinging to his shaft, dripping down his heavy balls that brushed your ass with every rock.
“Toji… please… fuck m’need you so bad —” You were babbling now, voice wrecked, drool slipping down your chin. “Want your cock… want it deep… please —”
He smiled slow, adoringly and mean, then kissed you again, deep and claiming — while his hips kept that torturous rhythm: fat fuckin’ cock rubbing slow through your glossed folds, teasing your achy clit, nudging your suckling hole, making you drip and clench and beg for the stretch you were dying for.
“Soon, baby,” he promised, voice thick with hunger. “Gonna give you every thick inch. Gonna ruin this pretty pussy so good you’ll feel me for days. But first… keep beggin’. Keep drippin’. Show me how desperate my sweet girl is for it.”
And he kept teasing, relentless — until your whole body was trembling, pussy clenching empty and greedy, clit throbbing achy and swollen, slick pooling under your ass in a sticky puddle while he watched you fall apart under his mean, loving touch.
Toji’s hips stilled for a second, his fat, glossy cockhead still notched right at your entrance, stretching the tight ring of your hole just enough that it fluttered desperately around him. Your clammy, slick walls were sucking greedily at the swollen tip, like your pussy was trying to pull him deeper even while fighting the stretch. He was so fuckin’ thick, the round mushroom head bloated and veined, ridged crown — catching on every soft fold as he pushed forward slowly, agonizingly slow.
You gasped high and sharp the sound cracking into a whimper — back arching off the mattress, plush thighs trembling where they were hooked over his hips. Your hole clenched hard on instinct — clammy, hot and so so tight it made his breath hitch rough in his throat.
“Fuck.. easy, sweetheart,” voice low and wrecked, one big scarred hand sliding under your ass to lift your hips just a fraction higher. “You’re grippin’ me like a vice already and I’ve barely got the tip in. So fuckin’ tight… this pretty little cunt’s never taken anything this big, huh?”
You shook your head — frantic little jerks — drool slipping from the corner of your mouth again as you stared up at him with glassy, pleading eyes.
Your clit still achy and swollen from his teasing, throbbing every time the base of his shaft dragged against it on accident. Slick poured out around his tip — thick, gluey strands coating the fat crown, dripping down his heavy balls in slow, shiny rivulets.
Toji groaned gutterally, his forehead dropping to rest against yours for a second while he fought not to just slam home. His cock throbbing hard inside that tiny stretch — veins pulsing against your clenching walls, pre leaking in fat drops that mixed with your cream and made everything even messier.
“Look at you tryin’ so hard for me,” he praised, voice soft and thick with adoration even as his hips rocked in tiny, teasing nudges. “Takin’ just the tip like such a good girl. Feel how she’s suckin’ on me? Fuck…your hole’s so tight and wet, baby. Grippin’ like she don’t ever wanna let go.”
He pushed forward another fraction — barely an inch more and your pussy resisted, walls fluttering wild around the fattened ridge of his crown. The stretch burned sweet — hot, the aching fullness made your toes curl and your nails rake down his broad back. A fresh gush of slick squirted out around him, coating his shaft, dripping onto the sheets in a sticky puddle.
“Haaah —Toji ” Your voice broke, high and wrecked, hips twitching up like you couldn’t decide if you wanted more or needed a second to breathe.
“Shhh, I got you,” he murmured, kissing the corner of your mouth gently-sweet — tongue flicking out to catch the drool on your chin. “Doin’ so perfect. So so tight for me… gonna make it fit, yeah? Gonna stretch this sweet little pussy slow till she’s huggin’ every thick inch. You’re my good girl, my perfect, drippin’ girl. Just breathe for me.”
His free hand slid up your soft tummy, his palm spreading wide over the plushness there, fingers splaying to feel the way your muscles quiver under him. He rocked again — tiny, shallow thrusts that barely moved the tip in and out, just enough to let your walls flutter and adjust around the blunt head.
Every nudge made obscene wet sounds, — schlick- schlick-schlick — your slick squelching loudly around him, strings of it clinging to his veined shaft like they were trying to keep him buried.
“Feel that burn, baby?” he cooed, voice low and praising as he watched your face — eyes locking on every flutter of your lashes, every tremble of your lips. “That’s me openin’ you up. So tight it’s squeezin’ the cum right outta me… fuck, you’re leakin’ all over my cock. Such a messy, needy cunt. Love how she’s fightin’ me and still beggin’ for more.”
He pushed again — slower this time — watching with dark, hungry eyes as another inch sank in. Your hole stretched wider, your puffy lips hugging the thickest part of his crown, clinging glossy and white-knuckled around him. The stretch was obscene — your clit jumping every time the ridge dragged over it on the way in, fresh cream bubbling out to coat him.
“Haaah — fuck — there we go,” he breathed, thumb stroking slow circles over your lower belly where he could feel the faint bulge starting to form just from the tip and a little more. “Look at that… already makin’ a pretty little bump and I’m not even halfway. So fuckin’ tight, sweetheart. Takin’ me like you were made for it.”
You were sobbing softly now, broken little sounds as your hips canted up helplessly, trying to take more even as your walls spasmed around the invasion. Slick pouring steadily, thick and gluey — drenching his balls, soaking the sheets under your ass in a warm, sticky mess.
Toji leaned down and kissed you deep and slow, his tongue sliding against yours while he kept those tiny, rocking thrusts. Just the tip popping in and out, stretching you open, teasing your clenching hole, making your clit throb against the veined underside every time he pulled back.
“Doin’ so good,” he whispers into your mouth between kisses. “My sweet girl takin’ just the tip so perfectly. Gonna keep goin’ slow, gonna make it fit inch by inch till this fat cock’s buried deep where you need it. You feel how hard I am for you? How much I’m leakin’? All ‘cause this tight little pussy’s grippin’ me like she never wants me to leave.”
One more gentle push and another thick inch goes sliding in and your back bows, a moan ripping out loud and raw as your walls flutter wild around him. He stills again, letting you adjust, his forehead pressing to yours, breath ragged.
“Almost there, baby,” he praises, voice thick with restraint and adoration. “So so tight… but you’re takin’ me so good. My perfect girl. Gonna fill you up soon, m’gonna stretch this sticky hole till it’s huggin’ every veiny inch. Ahh — Just a little more… just breathe and let me make it fit.”
His thumb finds your clit, and circles over the swollen bud slow and gently while he rocks another inch in shallow, keeping you on that razor edge of stretch and pleasure. Slick gushing fresh with every tiny thrust — coating him, dripping down, making the slide just a little easier even as your pussy fights to keep him right where he is.
“Tell me how it feels, sweetheart,” he murmurs, kissing your tear-streaked cheek. “Tell me how full you are already… how much you need the rest.”
Your answer is a broken whimper, your hips rolling up desperately, pussy clenching hard around just the tip and a little more now.
“Need… need all of you… please, Toji —”
He smiles slow, filthy but so fucking tender, then kisses you again, deep and claiming while his hips started that slow, relentless push forward again.
“That’s my girl,” he rasps against your lips. “Gonna give you everything. Gonna make this tight little cunt take every thick inch till you’re cryin’ and comin’ all over me.”
And inch by torturous inch he keeps making it fit. Slow. Sweet. Praising you through every clench, every gush, every trembling stretch until your pussy finally starts to yield — walls fluttering open, sucking him deeper, greedily and wrecked and so so ready for the rest.
Then Toji’s patience snapped like a thin wire, a low growl rumbling deep in his chest as his big scarred hands clamped around your soft waist. No warning. No gentle coaxing. Just raw, starving need. He grabs your little body like it was his to manhandle, his rough palms digging into your plush hips, flipping you onto your side in one swift yank that made the mattress springs squeak protest.
“Fuck ah I-I can’t take it anymore,” he rasps, voice thick and wrecked. “Need to go deeper. Need this tight cunt stuffed full, m’gonna make her take every fuckin’ inch now.”
He drags you down the bed, the sheets tangling around your ankles, until your ass hangs off the edge just enough, cheeks jiggling from the rough pull. Your face mashed into the rumpled comforter — cheek smushing against the soft fabric, drool already pooling under your agape mouth.
One hand flew out on instinct, your fingers clutching the fluffy stuffed bear you keep on the pillow (the one with the little bow tie you’d had since middle school), knuckles white as you gripped it like a lifeline while your body arches helplessly.
Toji presses your legs together, his thick thighs pressing your plush ones tight, forcing your chubby little cunt to pucker even more obscenely. Your fat pussy lips squished together now, glossy and swollen, the plump folds mashed into one slick, puffy seam that barely parts for the fat pink tip still teasing your entrance.
The position makes everything tighter — your gummy walls clenching harder, clit trapped between those squeezed-together lips, throbbing achy and trapped against the pressure.
He lines up, his veined, thick cock — throbbing heavy in his fist — and pushes in.
No slow tease this time.
The fat crown spears past your puckered entrance with a wet, filthy pop — stretching those mashed-together lips wide around his girth. Your hole sucking greedily and clenching so tight it made his eyes roll back, but he doesn’t stop.
Just keeps feeding inch after thick, veined inch into your poor stuffed cunt, the squeeze so intense it forces thick ropes of your gooey cream to bubble out around him, coating his shaft in shiny white strands that drip slow down your inner thighs.
“Haah… fuck — listen to her,” he groans, hips snapping forward harder now that the angle let him sink deeper. “This chubby little cunt’s cryin’ so loud for me. Squeezin’ like she’s scared I’ll pull out… but she’s suckin’ me right back in. Fuckin’ perfect.”
You wail high, lewd and broken, your cries muffled into the mattress — voice cracking every time his cock punches deeper. Never been fucked like this, with legs squeezed shut making your pussy feel impossibly smaller, every ridge and vein dragging slow and mean along your gummy walls.
Your fat lips puckering tight around his base — stretching thin and glossy, clinging desperately like they were made to mold to his shape. The pressure mashes your clit right against the thick underside of his shaft — rubbing it raw with every brutal thrust, sending sparks shooting up your spine until your toes curl hard.
Toji loses it completely.
Big hands gripping your hips — fingers sinking into soft flesh hard enough to bruise, and he starts pounding. Deep, mean strokes that bottoming out with a wet slap every time his heavy balls smacks your clit.
Precum and your thick cream mixing into a frothy mess squirting out around his cock with every pull-back, dripping in sticky webs down your thighs, soaking the edge of the bed where your ass hangs off.
“Goddamn, look at this mess you’re makin’,” he pants, voice rough and praising all at once. “Gooey little pussy just spillin’ everywhere f’me. So fuckin’ cute how she’s creamin’ all over my dick… takin’ it so deep even when she’s squeezes this tight. My good girl…my filthy, drippin’ girl.”
Your cries turn desperate — muffled sobs into the stuffed bear you are clutching, tears streaking hot down your cheeks. Every thrust punches the air out of your lungs, his cockhead kissing your cervix mean and relentless, stretching your gummy walls wide around his veined thickness.
Your clit rubs mercilessly against him — trapped between those puckered lips, swollen and throbbing, building that coil tighter and tighter until your whole body shakes.
“Feel that?” he growles, leaning over you, his broad chest pressing to your back, sweat-slick skin sliding against yours. One hand slides up to cup your soft tummy — palm pressing down so he can feel the bulge of his cock moving inside you. “Feel how deep I am, baby? Stuffin’ this chubby cunt so full she’s leakin’ like a faucet. Gonna make you come like this.” legs squeezed tight, clit rubbed raw and pussy stretched mean around every thick inch of his.
He snaps his hips harder, the angle perfect now, his cock dragging right over that spongy spot inside while his shaft grinds against your trapped clit. Slick squelches loud and obscene, wet slaps filling the room, your gooey cream frothing white at the base of his cock, dripping in thick strands every time he pulls back.
You shatter hard.
Whole body convulsing, walls clamping down like a vice around his pounding cock, milking him greedily as you scream into the mattress. Fresh gushes of slick squirting out around him, hot and messy, soaking his balls, drenching the sheets, making every thrust even sloppier. Your clit throbs wild against him — overstimulated and raw, sending aftershocks after aftershock rippling through you until your legs shake uncontrollably.
Toji groans deep and feral, his hips stuttering as your pussy sucks him in tight.
“Fuck… Aaah yeah, come on my cock, sweetheart,” he praises, voice breaking with how close he was. “Squeezin’ so fuckin’ tight… makin’ such a cute mess f’er me. Good girl, my perfect, pretty girl. Gonna fill this stuffed cunt up soon… gonna pump you so full you’ll be leakin’ me for days.”
He didn’t stop, Toji kept fucking you through it, with mean, deep thrusts that made your ass jiggle, made your cries turn hoarse and wrecked. His veined cock dragged slow and filthy through your fluttering walls — still so tight from your legs squeezed together and clit still rubbing helpless against him with every slam.
“Haah mhnm fuck…m’not done yet,” he rasps, hand sliding down to spread one cheek, exposing where you were stretched obscene around him. “Gonna keep, ah goin’. Gonna ruin this pretty pussy till she’s cryin’ for more… till you’re so full of cum you can’t move.”
And he did — pounding harder, deeper, meaner all while you clutched your stuffed bear tighter, face buried in the mattress, drooling and sobbing and coming undone again and again around his thick cock that finally fit all the way inside your chubby, gooey, perfect little cunt.
Toji’s hips roll in one long, deliberate drag — pulling back just enough that his thick, veined cock starts to slip free from your stuffed little hole. Your sloppy pussy doesn't want to let go. Gummy walls clenching down hard — squeezin’ greedy around every ridge and bump like they’re scared he’d leave you empty.
His foreskin bunches up soft and slick around the fattened base of his crown as he withdraws — pink tip glistening obscene with a thick coat of your cream and his own sappy pre, strings of it stretching taut between your puffy lips and his shaft before snapping wetly against your inner thighs.
You whine high and utterly broken, face mashed deeper into the mattress, your cheek smushed against the soft fur of your stuffed bear, fingers clutching the little plush thing so tight the seams strained. Drool still pooling under your slacked maw, soaking the fabric while your hips twitch back helplessly, chasing the stretch even as he teases you with the slow retreat.
“Fuck haah… listen to that,” he rasps, voice low and filthy-thick with awe. “This nasty lil’ pussy’s makin’ the sloppiest sounds just ‘cause I’m pullin’ out. Squelchin’ like she’s beggin’ me to stay buried. So fuckin’ greedy, baby.”
He didn’t let you go empty for long.
Right when the fat pink tip was almost out — your hole fluttering desperately around the ridge, he leaned over you again, his broad chest pressing hot to your back — and spat. A thick, heavy glob of spit landing right on your stretched entrance — hot and messy — sliding down the puffy seam of your mashed-together pussylips before dripping slow into the clenching ring still hugging his crown, the added slick made everything even nastier, your syrup-thick cream mixing with his spit, bubbling white and frothy where your walls gripped him.
Toji groans deep, a rumble that vibrates straight through you as he pushes forward again. Slow and mean, feeding every thick inch back into your pussy until his hips slapped flush against your ass, his balls heavy and wet smacking your clit trapped between those squeezed thighs. Your pussy sucking him in greedy — gummy walls fluttering wild, clinging so tight it made his eyes roll back.
“Haah…there we go,” he praises, hands clamping harder on your soft waist — fingers sinking into plush flesh like you really are his personal fleshlight, something soft and warm and perfect to use. “Takin’ me all the way again. Feel how deep I am, sweetheart?” His cockhead now kissin’ your cervix… — mngh "Stretchin’ this sloppy hole wide. God your pussy’s so fuckin’ good. So tight even after all that cream you just gushed.”
He drew back again slowly and torturous, watching the way your fat pussylips dragged along his veined shaft, clinging glossy and swollen, trying to keep him inside. Nasty lil’ squelches filling the room — wet, obscene pops every time he pulls out halfway — your syrup-thick pussy noisily protesting, cream bubbling out in thick white rings around his base, dripping slow down your inner thighs in sticky trails that soaked the edge of the mattress.
Your sobbing is muffled into the stuffed bear, your whole body trembling as he manhandles you deeper into the bed. One big hand slides up your spine — pushing your face firmer into the comforter, while the other grips your waist harder, yanking your hips back to meet every slow, punishing thrust.
He spreads your fat pussylips wider with his thumbs — peeling them apart even as your legs stay squeezed tight together — exposing the glossy pink inside where his thick cock splits you open.
“Look at her stretch,” he growls, voice wrecked with how good it feels. Your plump lil’ lips puckering so tight around him… huggin’ every veiny inch like she was made for his cock. “Fuck mhng baby, you’re ruinin’ me. This pussy’s too perfect… too sloppy… too fuckin’ tight.”
He bottoms out again, harder this time, his cockhead bullying deep until you feel that familiar bulge in your lower tummy, the faint swell under his palm when he presses down. Your clit rubbed raw against the underside of his shaft — trapped and throbbing — every drag sending fresh sparks through your overstimulated nerves until your thighs shake uncontrollably.
Toji didn’t speed up. Didn’t rush. Just kept that slow, deep pace — drawing back until only the fat tip stretched your entrance, then sinking all the way in with one long, filthy glide. Each pull-out made your pussy squelch louder — cream frothing white at his base, dripping in thick ropes — each push-in forcing more of your gooey slick to bubble out around him, coating his balls, soaking your ass cheeks, turning everything into a warm, sticky mess.
“God mhm feel that?” he rasps, leaning down to nip the shell of your ear, his breath hot and ragged. “How your pussy’s clenchin’ every time I try to pull out? Squeezin’ like she doesn't ever wanna be empty. My good girl… my perfect, drippin’ girl. Takin’ this thick cock so deep… makin’ such cute, nasty noises for me.”
His hands tighten on your waist — using you like he owns you — pulling your hips back to meet every slow, punishing thrust while he grounds deeper, letting the fat crown drag over that spongy spot inside until your cries turn hoarse and wrecked.
Your stuffed bear was crushed against your chest now, your fingers white-knuckled and face buried so deep in the mattress you could barely breathe around the drool and tears.
He spat again, a thick glob landing right where you were stretched widest around him — watching it slide in, mixing with the mess until everything was even slicker and messier.
“Not stoppin’,” he promises, voice low and filthy-sweet. “Gonna keep fuckin’ this little pussy… till she’s cryin’ and cumin’ again. Till you’re so full of my cum you can’t move, doll Till every time I pull out you’re squirtin’ that syrup-thick cream all over me.”
One more long, slow drag out and your pussy noisily protests with wet, lewd squelches, then he sinks back in deep, bottoming out with a wet slap that made your ass jiggle, clit grind hard against him, walls fluttering wild around every thick, veined inch of his.
“Haah…fuck t-there’s my girl,” he groans, kissing the back of your neck soft and filthy. “Takin’ it so good… makin’ me lose my fuckin’ mind. Gonna keep usin’ you just like this… slow… aah… till you’re nothin’ but a creamy, shakin’ mess for me.”
And he did, he kept that torturous rhythm, his hands bruising your waist, cock stretching your sloppy hole wide, foreskin bunched… slick, spit and cream mixing into the nastiest mess while you clutch your stuffed toy for dear life, sobbing his name into the mattress, pussy clenching greedily and wrecked around his thick cock that owned you completely.
Toji’s hips stayed buried deep, his thick cock throbbing hot and heavy inside your stuffed pussy, every veiny inch hugged so tight by your gummy walls that pulling out even an inch felt like fighting gravity. But he didn’t need to thrust right now.
Not when he had you exactly where he wanted; face-down, ass-up on the edge of your bed, legs squeezed shut, chubby pussy lips puckered and swollen around the base of his shaft like a glossy, creamy ring.
Your pretty little hole was still fluttering around him — suckling greedily on every ridge, even after the last brutal orgasm ripped through you, leaving your thighs trembling and slick dripping in slow, syrupy ropes down the insides of your legs.
He leaned over you, his broad chest pressing hot to your back, sweat-slick skin sliding against yours, until his scarred lips brushed the shell of your ear.
One big hand stayed clamped on your soft waist, fingers digging possessive bruises into plush flesh, while the other slid down between your squeezed-together thighs.
Rough callused fingertips found your puffed-out clit immediately — swollen, fat and glossy from all the rubbing, peeking out from between those mushed puffy lips like a needy little button begging for more.
“Fuck haah… look at this messy thing,” voice low and wrecked with hunger. “So puffed up… so gooey and sappy from comin’ all over my cock. Can’t even hide how bad she wants it.”
His fingers started moving in filthy, lazy circles right over your swollen bud. Not fast. Not rough. Just slow, perfect rubs that made your clit jump and throb under the pad of his middle finger.
He smeared your own thick cream around it — mixing it with the frothy white ring still clinging to his base — making every glide slicker, hotter, nastier. Your pussy clenched hard around his buried cock in response — walls fluttering wild, milking him greedy even though he wasn’t moving yet.
You whimper high, the broken sound muffled into the stuffed bear you were still clutching like it could save you from how good it felt. Drool soaked the plush's fur, tears streaking hot down your cheeks, whole body shaking as those filthy circles kept coming — round n’ round, a slow pressure that built the ache back up fast.
“Haah… m’can’t stop touchin’ you, baby,” he groaned against your neck, nipping the soft skin where he’d already left dark bruises. “Even if I tried… fuck, this little clit’s too perfect. So fat and slippery… jumpin’ every time I rub right here.”
He pressed firmer, his middle finger circling tighter now, thumb hooking under to spread your puffy lips just enough to expose more of that sensitive pearl.
The motion dragging his cock the tiniest bit inside you — barely a rock, just enough to let the fat crown nudge your spongy spot while his fingers worked your clit relentlessly. Fresh slick gushed out around him, thick and syrupy — coating his hand, dripping down his wrist in warm rivulets that soaked into the sheets.
Your hips bucked back helplessly, your ass jiggling against his pelvis, trying to grind into his touch even as your pussy clenched tighter around the thick intrusion splitting you open.
Every filthy circle sent sparks shooting straight up your spine, your clit throbbed so hard it hurt in the sweetest way, walls spasming around his cock like they were trying to pull him even deeper.
“Goddamn…ya feel that?” he murmured, voice thick with praise and filth. “How your cunt ’s grippin’ me every time I rub this pretty clit? Squeezin’ like she’s beggin’ for more even though she’s already stuffed full. My good girl… my perfect, drippin’ mess. Look how she’s leakin’ just from my fingers. So fuckin’ sensitive.”
He sped up just a fraction, circles turning tighter, faster. The pad of his finger flicking quick over the swollen tip of your clit before smoothing back into those slow, filthy loops.
Your cries turned desperate, hoarse and wrecked, sobs muffled into the bear as your thighs shook harder, pussy fluttering wild around his cock. Thick cream bubbled out with every clench — frothing white at his base, dripping in sticky strands that clung to his heavy balls.
Toji groaned deep and feral, his hips finally rocking once, a slow, deep grind that dragged every veined inch along your gummy walls while his fingers never stopped. The dual sensation punched the air out of your lungs, clit rubbed raw and throbbing, cunt stretched wide and filled to the brim.
“Can’t get enough of touchin’ you,” he confessed, voice breaking with how wrecked he was. “This puffed-out little clit… so gooey and sappy… jumpin’ under my fingers like it’s alive. Fuck…baby, you’re gonna come again just like this. Gonna make this fat pussy squirt all over my hand while I’m still buried balls-deep.”
He pinched your clit gently, rolling it between thumb and finger, then went right back to those filthy circles, smearing more of your cream around the swollen bud until it glistened obscene under the fairy lights. Your whole body seized, your back arching hard, ass pressing back desperately against him, your narrow walls clamping down like a vice around his thick cock.
“That’s it ahh…come for me again,” he praised, lips brushing your ear, breath hot and ragged. “Let me feel this pussy milk me while I rub this pretty clit raw. My sweet girl… my filthy, pretty girl… gush for me, baby. Show me how much you love it when I can’t stop touchin’ you.”
One more tight, filthy circle pressed hard right over the tip and you shatter.
Whole body convulsing, pussy clamping down brutally around his cock, walls fluttering wild as thick spurts of slick squirted out around him, hot and messy — soaking his hand, drenching his thighs, pooling warm under your ass on the already wrecked sheets.
Your clit throbbed helplessly under his fingers, overstimulated and raw, sending aftershock after aftershock ripping through you until your legs gave out completely.
Toji didn’t pull his hand away. Just kept those slow, soothing circles, gentler now — petting your puffed-out clit through the tremors while his cock stays buried deep, throbbing hard inside your fluttering, creamy cunt.
“Haah…fuck…there’s my girl,” he sighs, kissing the back of your neck soft and filthy. “Comin’ so hard just from my fingers… makin’ such a cute, sloppy mess. Can’t stop touchin’ you, baby. Not when this little clit’s still jumpin’ for me… not when your pussy’s still grippin’ me like she never wants me to stop.”
He rocked once, letting you feel every thick inch while his fingers kept circling lazy, keeping you right on that overstimulated edge.
“Gonna keep goin’,” he promises, voice low and wrecked with adoration. “Gonna keep rubbin’ this pretty clit… keep fuckin’ you slow… till you’re cryin’ and squirting again. Till you’re nothin’ but a shakin’, creamy mess for me. My perfect girl… my filthy little thing… all mine.”
And he did, his fingers never stopping those filthy circles, cock grinding deep and slow, turning you into a drooling, trembling puddle while your stuffed bear stayed clutched tight in your shaking hands, soaked with tears and drool and the endless proof of how good he made you feel.
Toji’s cock was buried to the hilt, his thick-veined base flush against your swollen puffy lips, heavy balls pressed hot to your clit like they belonged there. Your little fat pussy was stretched obscene around him, your gummy walls parted wide, clinging desperate to every ridged inch like they’d forgotten how to close.
You were gaped already, your poor hole fluttering open every time he stayed still too long, the rim puffy and flushed dark pink, glistening with thick layers of your syrupy cream and his endless pre. Slick dripping steady from where you were joined, slow, sticky ropes that clung to his shaft, webbing down to his balls, pooling warm under your ass on the wrecked sheets.
Shaking, your whole body trembling, face still mashed into the mattress, drool soaking the stuffed bear you clutched like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. Your cries had turned hoarse, soft and wrecked whimpering every time his cock throbbed deep inside, nudging that spongy spot that made your toes curl and your tummy quiver.
He groans low, the sound ripping from his chest like it hurt to feel how tight you still were even after all the pounding, big scarred hands gripped your soft waist harder, his fingers sinking into plush flesh, holding you exactly where he wanted while he started to pull out.
Slow.
Agonizingly slow.
The drag was filthy, every veined inch sliding free with wet, obscene schlicks that filled the room. Your pussy lips dragged along his shaft, puffy and glossy, clinging greedily like they didn’t want to let go. The fat pink crown caught on your rim, stretching it wider one last time before popping free with a lewd, sucking pop.
Your hole gaped open immediately, pink and wrecked, fluttering helplessly around nothing, thick strings of cream stretching from your entrance to his dripping tip like obscene bridges before snapping wet against your inner thighs.
“Haah…fuck…look at that,” he said disbelieving,“This little hole’s gaped so pretty for me… still clenchin’ like she’s missin’ me already. So fuckin’ sloppy, baby. Drippin’ everywhere just ‘cause I pulled out.”
You whimpered, hips twitching back instinctively, chasing the emptiness even as your walls fluttered wild. But Toji wasn’t done teasing.
He lined up again, the fat tip nudging your gaping entrance, smearing thick pre over the stretched rim, then he pushed.
Deeper.
Harder.
One long, brutal glide that sank every thick inch back inside until his hips slapped flush against your ass, cockhead bullying past your cervix, stirring your guts up in that dizzying, overwhelming way that made your eyes roll back.
You felt him everywhere. Hot, heavy fullness stretching from your stuffed hole all the way up like he was rearranging you from the inside. Your tummy bulged faintly under his palm when he pressed down, feeling the outline of his cock moving deep, claiming every inch of your soft insides.
“Fuuuck…there it is,” he growled, hips grinding slow circles now, letting you feel him throb against your deepest walls. “Feel me in your throat, sweetheart? Stirrin’ up your guts… makin’ this pretty pussy taking me so deep she’s cryin’. My good girl… my perfect, stretched-out girl.”
Your cries turning guttural and raw, sounds muffled into the bear as he starts thrusting again, long punishing strokes that pull almost all the way out every time, only to slam back in deeper, harder, stirring your insides into a gooey, creamy mess. Slick squirting out with every pull-back, thick and white-frothed, coating his shaft, dripping down your thighs in warm rivers that soaked everything beneath you.
Then his thick thumb found your tight puckered asshole.
He didn’t ask…Didn’t tease.
Just pressed the blunt pad right against your clenched ring — hot, callused pressure that made your whole body jolt. Your hole fluttering instinctive, tight and untouched, trying to push him out even as your pussy clenched harder around his pounding cock.
“Shhh…relax for me, baby,” he murmured, voice low and filthy-sweet against your ear. ‘m'gonna plug this pretty little hole too. Keep you so full… till you’re shakin’ and sobbin’ for me.”
He pushes in so…so carefully, his thick thumb breaching the tight ring with a soft pop. The stretch burning sweet… the foreign fullness made your back arch hard, ass pushing back desperately onto both intrusions. Your asshole clamping down greedily around his thumb, sucking him into the first knuckle, while your pussy flutters wildly around his thick cock, walls spasming so hard it milks another thick spurt of pre deep inside you.
“Haah…fuck y-yeah,” he groans, thumb sinking deeper, and a slow twist of his thumb... has your hole clenching and fluttering around him. “Takin’ my thumb so good… tight little ass huggin’ me just like your pussy. Feel that? Both holes ngh stuffed f-full”… his cock stirrin’ your guts, thumb pluggin’ up your pretty asshole. “You’re mine, baby. All fuckin’ mine.”
He starts moving — thumb rocking shallow in time with his deep thrusts, cock slamming home every time his thumb pushes in, pulling out together in a filthy rhythm that makes your whole body rock forward into the mattress. Your clit rubbed raw against the sheets now — trapped and throbbing — every grind sending fresh sparks through your overstimulated nerves until tears streamed hot down your cheeks.
Your cries were nonstop, hoarse, wrecked sobs into your stuffed bear, your body trembling violently as he fucked you deeper, thumb plugging your ass, cock stretching your gaped pussy wide. Slick gushing with every thrust, thick, creamy ropes squirting out around his base, soaking his hand where it worked your plugged hole, drenching the bed in a warm, sticky puddle.
“God…look at you,” he praised, voice breaking with how close he was. “Takin’ everything… Such a good girl… my girl. Gonna make you come like this… gonna feel you milk me till I’m pumpin’ you full.”
He ground deeper, thumb twisting slow inside your tight ass, bulbous cockhead bullying your cervix, stirring everything up until the pressure coiled unbearable in your belly.
“Come for me, baby.” he says softly, lips brushing your tear-streaked cheek gently.
One more deep, brutal thrust, thumb sinking to the base, cock slamming home fully and you shattered.
Whole body convulsing, pussy clamping like a vice around his thick shaft, asshole fluttering wild around his thumb, clit throbbing helpless against the friction. Thick spurts of slick squirts out around him — hot and messy — soaking everything as you scream his name into the bear, tears and drool mixing on the sheets.
Toji goes all breathless, hips stuttering as your walls milked him ruthlessly.
“Fuck...yeah…take it, baby,” he pants, grinding deep through your orgasm. “Gonna come… gonna fill this pretty little cunt… gonna plug you so full you’ll feel me for days.”
And with one last deep thrust, thumb buried in your ass, cock throbbing hot and heavy inside your stuffed, creamy hole he starts to spill. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooding your gummed walls — pulse after pulse — stirring your insides even more as he keeps grinding slow, keeping you plugged front and back while you shook and sobbed and came undone completely around him.
And Toji Zenin still wasn’t done touching you.
Not by a long shot.
Toji finally eased his thumb out of your twitching little asshole, slow and careful, letting the tight ring flutter shut with a soft, wet sound that made your whole body shiver one last time. His cock slipped free next, his thick length dragging along your ruined walls until the fat crown popped out with a lewd, sucking pop.
A hot gush of cum followed immediately, thick, creamy ropes spilling from your gaping pussy in slow, obscene waves, dripping down your inner thighs, pooling sticky and warm beneath your ass on the already-soaked sheets.
You were trembling, completely spent, limbs heavy and breath coming in shaky little pants, face still buried halfway into the rumpled comforter with drool stringing from the corner of your swollen lips. Your stuffed bear was crushed, forgotten against your chest, fur matted and damp from tears and spit and everything else.
Toji didn’t move away.
He rolled you gently, almost tenderly — onto your back, big scarred hands sliding under your soft thighs and waist to lift you like you weighed nothing. He settled between your spread legs again, kneeling tall over you, sweat-glistening chest heaving while he looked down at the absolute mess he’d made of his pretty girl.
Your pussy was wrecked, lips puffy and dark, gaping open just enough to show the creamy white mess inside, clit still swollen and flushed, twitching with aftershocks. Cum leaked out in lazy pulses, mixing with your own slick, running in glossy trails down your perineum.
But his eyes softened when they reached your face.
All tear-streaked cheeks, glassy eyes, puffy lips still shining with spit.
“My pretty girl,” he murmured, voice low and wrecked but so fucking gentle now it made your chest ache.
He leaned down slow, his big heated body blanketing yours without crushing you and cups your face in both rough palms. Thumbs brushed away the fresh tears clinging to your lashes, smearing them gently across your flushed skin.
Toji didn’t pull out.
Not even a little.
He stayed buried to the root, his thick, heavy cock throbbing slow and deep inside your stuffed cunt, every veiny inch hugged so tight by your gummy walls it felt like your pussy had forgotten how to exist without him filling it. The fat pink crown was pressed right up against your cervix — hot, insistent pressure that made your tummy flutter every time his heartbeat pulsed through the shaft.
Cum was already leaking — thick, sticky ropes of it flooding your insides from the last brutal spill, so much that you could feel the warm, syrupy weight of it pooling deep in your guts, pressing against your walls like liquid heat.
Your poor hole was gaped just enough around his base, puffy lips stretched thin and glossy, clinging desperate to the thickest part of him like they were scared he’d slip free. But he wasn’t going anywhere, he just held you there, his hips flush to your ass, one big scarred hand splayed wide over your soft tummy so he could feel the faint swell where his cock and all that cum was making you bulge ever so slightly from the inside.
“Shhh… just like this, sweetheart,” he murmured low against the back of your neck, lips brushing damp skin in soft, lazy kisses. “Just cock warming. No more fuckin’ right now. Gonna let this pretty pussy soak in every drop I gave her… keep her nice and full, yeah?”
You whimpered — soft, a wrecked little sound muffled into the stuffed bear still clutched tight to your chest. Your whole body was trembling, overstimulated, oversensitive, thighs quivering where they were still squeezed shut and held down beneath his weight.
Slick and cum mixed into a warm, sticky mess between you, dripping slowly out around his base in thick, pearly strands that clung to your inner thighs, soaking the sheets in a warm puddle that smelled like sex and him and you all tangled together.
He shifted then, just a tiny rock of his hips, not thrusting, just enough to let his cock stir the cum inside you. The movement made a wet, filthy squelch, your walls fluttering greedy around him, milking another thick bead of leftover seed that oozed deeper into your guts.
You felt it, hot and slippery coating every inch of your gummy insides, threatening to drool out if he moved too much, but he didn’t. He just held you closer — arm banding around your waist, palm pressing firmer over that soft little bulge in your tummy like he was proud of how full he’d made you.
“Look how cute you are,” he whispered, voice rough and tender all at once. “Face all flushed… droolin’ on your lil’ bear… pussy so full of my cum she’s practically purring. My pretty girl… my perfect girl.”
He turned your face gently with scarred fingers under your chin, tilting you just enough so he could lean over your shoulder and kiss you slow. Soft at first — scarred lips brushing yours, tasting the salt of your tears and the cherry gloss long smeared away. Then deeper, tongue sliding lazy against yours, swallowing every tiny whimper you gave him while his cock stayed perfectly still inside you, just throbbing, just warming, just owning.
You moaned into his mouth, a soft and needy sound as another warm trickle of cum leaked out around his base, sliding slow down your puffy lips. Your clit still swollen and achy, brushed the underside of his shaft with every tiny shift, sending little aftershocks through your core that made your walls flutter and clench around him again.
“Haah…fuck — there she goes,” he groaned against your lips, kissing you deeper, filthier. “Clenchin’ so sweet even when she’s just holdin’ me. Feel all that cum sloshin’ around inside you? So warm… so sticky… gonna keep it all plugged up in there till it’s leakin’ out slow outta you.”
His free hand slid up and cupped the side of your face, thumb stroking slow over your tear-streaked cheek while he kissed you again and again. Forehead pressed to yours now, breath mingling hot and ragged, his green eyes dark and soft as he stared down at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.
“You’re so fuckin’ cute like this,” he murmured, pressing another soft kiss to your forehead — lingering, reverent. “All hugged up on my cock… pussy threatenin’ to drool my cum everywhere but still grippin’ me so tight. My good girl… my sweet, stuffed girl. Just stay like this for me, yeah? Let me keep you warm… let me feel how full I made you.”
He rocked once, barely a movement, just a slow grind that stirred the thick load inside you without pulling out. More cum bubbled out hot and slippery coating your puffy lips, dripping slow down to where your clit throbbed against him. You whimpered high and broken — hips twitching instinctively even though you were too spent to chase anything.
Toji shushed you gently, lips brushing your temple, your cheek, your mouth again in soft, endless kisses.
“Just this. Just me inside you… keepin’ all that cum nice and warm where it belongs. My pretty girl… my perfect little thing… all hugged up and full for me.”
He wrapped both arms around you then, pulling your soft body back flush to his chest, cock still buried deep, still throbbing slow, still leaking the last drops into your stuffed, creamy pussy. Forehead kisses rained down, soft, sweet and lazy in the best way, while he held you close, letting you feel every heartbeat through his shaft, every warm pulse of cum settling deeper inside you.
“Stay just like this,” he whispered one last time, lips lingering on your forehead. “My cute, sweet girl… mine.”
And he didn’t move.
Just held you there — thick cock warming your poor, gaped, cum-stuffed pussy while you trembled and whimpered and clung to your bear, face buried in his neck, soaking in the sticky, overwhelming heat of being so perfectly, completely full of him.
Toji’s arms locked around your waist like steel bands, scarred hands splaying wide over the soft curve of your lower belly, fingers digging in just enough to bruise the plush skin as he yanked you down hard, with no warning. No slow descent. Just raw, possessive force that slammed your dripping pussy all the way onto his thick, throbbing cock in one brutal, claiming drop.
The stretch hit like lightning — your poor gaped hole, forced to swallow every last veiny inch at once, walls parting wide around the fattened girth until his heavy balls slapped wet against your clit and the fat pink crown punched right up against the deepest part of your cervix again.
You felt it everywhere — hot, overwhelming fullness stretching from your stuffed entrance all the way up into your guts, making your tummy bulge visibly under his palm where he pressed down firmly to feel himself buried inside you.
“Haah…f-fuck — there it is,” he growled low against the shell of your ear, voice wrecked and deep, breath scorching your neck. “Takin’ every thick fuckin’ inch, sweetheart. All of it. No more teasin’. Just my cock stuffed deep where it belongs.”
Your cry ripped out raw and broken — high, desperate wails muffled into the crook of his shoulder as your body jolted from the sudden depth. Your gummy walls fluttered wild around him, clenching helpless. Spasming like they couldn’t decide if they wanted to push him out or suck him deeper.
Slick and leftover cum from before gushed out around his base in thick, creamy ropes,frothing white at the stretch, dripping slow down his heavy sack in warm, sticky trails that soaked into the sheets beneath you both.
He didn’t let you adjust. Just held you there, impaled, trembling, your pussy clenching greedily around the full length of him — while one hand slid up to fist in your hair, yanking your head back gently but firm so he could see your face.
Tears streaked hot down your cheeks, lips swollen and parted in endless soft whimpers, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth again like you’d forgotten how to swallow.
“Look at you,” he says proudly, green eyes dark and blown with hunger as he stared down at where your puffy lips were stretched thin and glossy around his base — clinging so tight the rim looked almost white-knuckled. “My pretty girl takin’ everything… pussy so full she’s shakin’. Feel that? Feel how deep I am?” His cockhead kissin’ your womb and stirrin’ up all that cum he already pumped in you.
He rocked his hips once, a slow grinding roll that dragged every ridge along your fluttering walls without pulling out. The motion made a wet, filthy squelch, your stuffed pussy protesting the fullness even as it clenched harder, milking him greedy. More thick cream bubbled out — syrupy and white — coating his shaft, dripping down to where your clit throbbed helpless against the veined underside.
“Nngh…Toji —” Your voice cracked,hoarse and wrecked, nails raking down his broad back again, leaving red trails over hard muscle. “S’too much… s’too deep —”
“Shhh, I know, baby,” he murmured, scarred lips brushing your tear-streaked cheek in soft, filthy kisses. “Doin’ so good though. Takin’ this fat cock like you were made for it. Feel how your pussy’s grippin’ me? Squeezin’ like she don’t ever wanna let go. My perfect girl… my sweet girl.”
He pulled you down harder, another sharp yank that seated him impossibly deeper, crown bullying against that spongy spot inside until your back bowed, thighs trembling violently around his hips. Your clit grinding raw against his pelvis — swollen and achy — every tiny shift sending sparks shooting through your core that made your walls flutter and clench harder around him.
Toji groaned deep, the guttural sound vibrating straight through you, then wrapped both arms around your waist, crushing your soft body to his chest. One hand slid down to cup your ass, fingers spreading the plush cheeks wide so he could feel where you were stretched obscene around him, while the other pressed firm over that faint bulge in your tummy, thumb stroking slow circles over the spot where he could feel himself moving inside.
“Fuck…look at this,” he breathed, voice thick with praise and filth. “My cock makin’ a pretty little bump right here… fillin’ you up so good you can see it. Gonna keep you right here… just like this”… Cock-warmin’ you deep while he kisses your sweet mouth.
He tilted your chin up, scarred thumb brushing your swollen bottom lip, then claimed your mouth in a slow, filthy kiss. Tongue sliding deep, tasting the salt of your tears and the cherry gloss long gone, swallowing every broken whimper you gave him while his cock throbbed hot and heavy inside your stuffed pussy.
No thrusting. Just deep, possessive grinding — tiny rolls of his hips that stirred the thick load of cum already flooding your cunt, making it slosh warm and sticky against your walls.
You moaned into his mouth, soft needy sounds, as another warm trickle leaked out around his base, sliding slow down your puffy lips to where your clit pulsed against him. Your pussy clenching helpless and fluttering wild — threatening to drool more of that creamy mess if he moved even a little, but he didn’t. Just held you impaled, full, trembling, while he kissed you deeper, tongue fucking slow into your mouth in the same lazy rhythm his cock was grinding inside you.
“So fuckin’ cute,” he whispers against your lips between kisses, forehead pressing to yours, breath mingling hot and ragged. “All hugged up on my dick… pussy so full she’s shakin’. My pretty girl… my perfect little thing… takin’ everything I give her. Gonna stay just like this… keep you warm and stuffed… let you feel everything while I kiss you stupid.”
Wanting to feel you constantly, he kept pressing soft kisses to your forehead, then your temple, to your cheek and your mouth again — endless, filthy affection while his arms stayed locked around you, cock buried to the hilt, cum sloshing warm and sticky deep inside your gaped, creamy pussy.
“Mine,” he murmured one last time, lips brushing your forehead in a final, claiming kiss. “All fuckin’ mine.”
And he didn’t move.
Just held you there, thick cock warming your stuffed, trembling pussy, while you whimpered and clung and soaked in the overwhelming heat of being so completely, perfectly taken.
The room had gone quiet except for the soft hum of the ceiling fan stirring the thick summer air, fairy lights flickering lazy gold across the rumpled sheets like dying embers. You were out cold — completely fucked-out and boneless, face half-buried in the crook of Toji’s neck, one arm slung loose over his chest, legs still tangled with his like you couldn’t bear to let go even in sleep.
Your breathing had evened out into those slow, deep little puffs that made your lips part every exhale, drool already pooling at the corner of your mouth onto his collarbone. Cute. Wrecked. His.
Toji hadn’t moved much since he’d pulled you down onto every thick inch and held you there, his cock still buried deep, warming your cum-stuffed pussy while the last pulses of his cum settled heavy and hot inside you.
Your walls kept fluttering around him in tiny, sleepy spasms — soft little squeezes that milked another lazy bead of seed from his tip even though he wasn’t thrusting anymore.
The mess between you was obscene; thick ropes of cum and your syrupy cream leaking slow out around his base, coating his heavy balls, dripping in warm, sticky trails down your inner thighs and soaking the sheets beneath your ass in a cooling puddle that smelled like sex and salt and him.
He stayed like that for a long while, his arm banded around your waist, scarred palm resting possessive over the faint swell in your lower tummy where his cock and all that cum made you bulge just enough to feel under his hand.
Every time you shifted in your sleep, tiny and little unconscious rolls of your hips, your pussy clenched tighter around him, gummy walls sucking greedy like even unconscious you didn’t want him to leave. It made his cock twitch — still half-hard, still leaking the last sluggish drops into your overflowing heat.
Eventually the ache in his thighs and the way your breathing had gone soft and even, told him you were really gone, deep in that post-orgasm haze where nothing existed but warmth and fullness and him.
Toji exhaled slowly through his nose, a low satisfied rumble in his chest, then started to move.
Careful. So fucking careful.
He slid one big hand under your thigh, lifting it just enough to ease the angle, while the other stayed splayed over your tummy, thumb stroking slow circles over that soft pudge like he was soothing you even in your sleep. Then he pulled.
Slow…
Inch by torturous inch.
The drag was filthy, your poor gaped hole clinging desperate to every veiny ridge as he withdrew, gummy walls fluttering weak protests around the retreating thickness. Slick and cum made obscene wet sounds, soft schlicks and squelches that filled the quiet room, thick white cream bubbling out around his shaft the second he started to slip free.
Strings of it stretched taut between your puffy lips and his glistening cockhead — snapping slow and wet against your inner thighs as he kept pulling.
When the fat pink crown finally popped free with a lewd, sucking pop, your hole gaped open, pink and wrecked, fluttering helpless around nothing. A thick gush of cum followed immediately — hot, sticky ropes drooling slow out of your stretched entrance, sliding down your ass crack in pearly trails, pooling warm under you on the already soaked sheets. Your clit, still swollen and flushed, twitched once at the sudden emptiness, a tiny bead of cream clinging to the tip like a pearl.
Toji stared, breath catching rough in his throat at the sight of his cum leaking from your used little pussy. So much of it. Thick and white and endless, proof of how deep he’d fucked you, how full he’d kept you. Your pussy looked ruined in the prettiest way — lips puffy and parted, hole still trying to clench shut but too stretched to close completely, just drooling his load in slow, obscene pulses.
“Fuck,” he breathed voice low, wrecked, almost reverent. Toji finally took a long inhale, eyes locked on the sight. His pretty girl’s pussy all sloppy and leaking his cum like she couldn’t help it even asleep. Fuck… it made his cock twitch soft against his thigh, already half-interested again for just looking.
He leaned down slow and carefully…not to jostle you too much, breath fanning hot over your sensitive skin and pressed the softest, filthiest kiss right to your swollen clit. Gentle. Worshipful.
Lips barely brushing the swollen bud…a warm, lingering press that made your hips twitch tiny in sleep, a soft whimper slipping from your throat. He kissed it again…slower, tongue flicking out just once to taste the mix of your cream and his cum still clinging there. Salty-sweet messy and perfect.
“My pretty girl,” he whispered against your pussy, voice so low it was more breath than sound. “Took me so deep… kept me warm all night. Look at you leakin’ my cum even when you’re sleepin’. So fuckin’ cute.”
Scarred lips brushing the sensitive bud, gentle and lingering, his tongue flicking out once to taste the mix of your cream and his cum clinging there. You whimpered in your sleep, a soft, needy little sound. Your hips twitched forward instinctively even when unconscious, thighs trembling once before settling again.
One more kiss, open-mouthed this time…lips sealing soft around your clit for a heartbeat, sucking the tiniest pull that made your thighs tremble before he let go.
Toji smiled against your pussy…slow, dangerous and so fucking tender, then kissed higher; one soft press to your puffy mound, another to the soft dip of your lower belly where the bulge was slowly fading.
“Fuck… gotta move, baby,” he rasped, voice gravel-thick with leftover lust and something softer underneath. “Your dad’s gonna be home soon. Can’t leave you lookin’ like this… all fucked-out and leakin’ me everywhere.”
He didn’t let you wallow in it.
He moved careful, almost gentle, sliding off you and scooping your limp, trembling body into his arms like you weighed nothing. Your legs dangled uselessly; your head lolled against his shoulder; your ruined pussy leaked a slow, sticky trail down his abs as he carried you to the tiny attached bathroom.
He set you on the edge of the tub softly with utter care, then ran warm water over a clean washcloth. No rough scrubbing. Just slow, careful wipes, dabbing away the cum and slick smeared across your inner thighs, between your ass cheeks, over your swollen mound. He was thorough, gentle thumbs parting your puffy lips just enough to clean the creamy mess still oozing from your gaping hole, wiping slow circles around your clit until you whimpered and twitched.
“Easy, sweetheart,” he murmured, kissing your forehead while he worked. “Gotta get you all clean… can’t have you drippin’ all over the place when your dad walks in.”
When you were as clean as he could get you, skin still flushed and sensitive, pussy still puffy and tender, he carried you back to the bed. He stripped the worst of the soaked sheets (bundling them into a ball to deal with later), flipped the comforter over the damp spot, and tucked you in slowly, pulling the soft blanket up to your chin, smoothing it over your trembling body like you were something precious.
He knelt beside the bed for a long minute, just watching you, then leaned down and pressed a final, lingering kiss to your swollen lips. Slow. Drooly. Tongue brushing yours one last time like he was memorizing the taste.
He pulled the rumpled sheet up over your body, tucking it around your shoulders gentle and careful, like you were something precious he didn’t want to break even though he’d just spent hours fucking you… making sure your shoulders were covered, your bare feet hidden under the blanket.
He smoothed a hand over your soft tummy, feeling the faint bloat still there from how full he’d left you and then leaned down to kiss your forehead too. Long, tender press of scarred lips.
“My good girl,” he whispered against your mouth, forehead resting against yours. “Took me so fuckin’ well… let me ruin you so pretty… now sleep, yeah? I’ll handle the rest. You just stay tucked in and dream about how full I made you.”
He kissed your forehead again, soft and possessive, then stood.
You watched through heavy lids as he pulled on his sweatpants (still stained, still smelling like sex), grabbed the bundled sheets, and slipped out the door quiet as a shadow.
The room smelled like him.
Like cum and sweat and summer heat.
Your pussy still ached, emptier… now but throbbing with the memory of how thick he’d been, how deep, how much he’d filled you.
You curled tighter under the blanket, legs pressing together to keep the lingering warmth inside and drifted.
pairing dilf blue-collar truck driver!ryomen sukuna x wife!afab reader
synopsis freshly newlywed, your husband goes on his first 2000-mile load across the country, leaving you alone for nearly a month. when he comes home, sukuna sees you've learned some new recipes, and new ways to keep him wanting more.
tags no-curses western set!au, established relationship, age gap (kuna is ~50, read is ~30), crude language, traditional relationship ideals, smut, f!receiving oral//body worship, lots of sweet/dirty talk, hubby is a biggggg man btw, manhandling, nsfw
word count 6.1k
authors note my dirtiest, nastiest, most gut-wrenching, toe-curling fantasy is having a big, beefy husband... but, uh, whoopsie-daisy, I promised u guys this concept in a drabble, but u get a full one-shot instead. can't say i don't love u. enjoyyyy :*
gorgeoussssss art by @innaillus <3
The sound of a car door slams against the sizzle of the dinner turning in your cast-iron pan.
Always perceptive to little things, as such, you raise your gaze against the tiled backsplash. It's not smart to leave the stove, knowing your stew could burn to the bottom of the pan if you let it linger. So, you wait, heart racing, but with expectations at a near-zero.
Your husband is never really home. Since you married him last Summer, you two haven't spent more than a month in constant presence. He's always working. It's in his nature, painted in his blood and the ink on his skin, just like it had been for his father, and the one before him. You won't fail to admit that you have an… easy, enjoyable life, staying in and nursing the big house in the sticks he bought you, or driving into town behind the wheel of his pickup truck. If they're in bloom at your local flower farm, you pick daisies under a sunhat and place them in vases around the house. If it's dreary, you meet a friend for coffee, or perhaps stay in and knit — Forensic Files humming deftly from the vintage box TV.
It's a simple way of life, and Sukuna was your lifeboat right as you felt your heart start to sink.
Now, you stand, easily afloat, cooking up dinner for your husband.
The car door slam outside morphs into gravel-crunching steps, slow and lazy. It's quite an incline to get to your porch from the gravel drive, one that Sukuna despised when he was weary after fifty-something long years and thousands of miles.
You know it's him, only when the key slides in the door with a rough sort of delicacy that only your husband could hold. He doesn't linger unnecessarily or spend too much of his energy on menial tasks when he only has so much. Every touch is jagged and unsteady to an extent — thrusting the key, rattling the knob when his big hand wraps around the metal. Sukuna grunts when he pushes it open and steps inside, the hard soles of his shoes squeaking on your door mat as he strides in, one at a time.
From the entryway, he can see your back at the stove, knees crossed under your skirt as your heart races, and your soul glistens. You reach up, turning the gas to low, watching the blue flames slowly flicker down under the grate.
Holding your breath, you turn over your shoulder with a small, steady smile, biting your lip when you see him again. Taller than your doorway — broad-shouldered and mildly unwelcoming, he stands like he expects something. Like he's waiting for you to make a move, you do, dipping your head and turning around so you can look him over top to bottom.
Lip still caught between your teeth, hands wrapped around the oven handles like you're holding back, you watch as Sukuna wordlessly untucks his dirt-kissed single-breasted tee shirt. He pulls it from the silver buckle that keeps his pants up, giving you a slight edge of the blue plaid on his briefs. Those little moments and the details in his demeanor- make him so tempting.
He waits for you to speak first — to welcome him back into the home you so expertly curated in his vision. "Welcome home."
"I've been waiting to hear that for a month." He finally caves, shedding that tough outer exterior that melts away at the sound of your sweet voice. He toes off his boots right where he stands, jaw working around a yawn he feels he has to stifle in your presence. Still, he makes his way into the room slowly, dragging his socked feet, identifying the scent and sounds in the air. Most of all, he takes you in — his beautiful prize of a wife guarding the first home-cooked meal he's indulged in since setting out for the load.
Your smile gets wider as he draws closer, chest rising and falling in rapid, nervous little clusters before he stops just a breath away. His toes touch yours, just meeting by a breath as he fumbles about in the back pocket of his stained jeans.
After a moment, he pulls out a folded envelope, carrying it proudly between two joined fingers. So close, you can feel his sticky aura on your skin. You nod and take it, staring straight into his settled stare with a feminine ease that soothes his soul right down to the core. You slip a manicured finger under the licked sugar-seal, tearing the envelope and pulling out the physical manifestation of your husband's labor, in the form of a five-figure check scrawled in ink, made out to the last name you both shared.
"Do you like what you see, sweet thing?"
"Hm," you hum tastefully, trying to stifle down the smile that keeps tugging at your lips. It's hard to look into his piercing stare when a number so big is staring back at you, but you cave, knowing eye contact is the least he deserves. "I do."
Sukuna is one for touch, but only in the easiest circumstances — when he's alone with you. He leans closer, dipping his gaze to meet yours. "Once you put most of it away for bills, I want you to treat yourself." His voice is impossibly deep and exhausted in his throat, scratching its way to the surface just like your manicured nails scratch against the paper check.
You nod him down, unable to stifle your proud smile as it tugs at your lips. He hums at your approval, caging you in against the heated stove with a thick arm strong at your side. He wraps his hand around the handle of the oven, dipping his head in the space between your neck and shoulder. You smell so overwhelmingly sweet, like elegant sugar and florals. It's a scent he knows too well, one that he keeps insisting you buy because of how it reminds him of you so wholly.
"How would you prefer I treat myself this time?"
Sukuna sniffs out your dinner, then hums in your ear — light hair tickling your sensitive neck as he burrows a little deeper. At your side, his vice grip tightens like he's holding back, squeezing hardened metal instead of the softness of your flesh.
"Would you… like to help me pick out a few new pieces of lingerie?"
Sukuna doesn't reply with as much energy as usual. Instead, he just grunts, lips pulling into a smirk that fades so quickly that you had no idea it was even there. "Just you saying the word's enough to get me excited."
You laugh, tilting your head back as his words fade into kisses around your neck, dipping to your collarbone, then against the softness leading up to your jawline. The soft, greying stubble on his cheeks tickles, but it's an endearing little shiver that courses through your body like venom. "Before you get too excited,"
"Uh-oh."
"The trucks been making some weird knocking noise." He stands up straight, and you settle back in, gaze low as he stares into your reflection like he's trying to make something new out of it. "Been too scared to drive it with you away, so I've been stuck inside."
"Could've called me." He turns his back to you, yawning behind a closed fist as he goes to grab his boots at the door. "I'd have one of my mechanic friends haul ass up here and fix it within the day."
"It's your truck, so I wanted you to fix it." Your words don't come off as calculated and sweet as they usually do when you talk to him, so you rush to clarify, "I hope that's okay."
"You're more than okay, baby doll." His voice fades into the grey of the space and the echoes of his deft footsteps as he makes his way to the garage side door. He keeps his truck parked there, safe and secure for you, and lets his SUV idle in the front — hauling him to and from the truck yard where it sits peacefully during every one of his jobs. You smile loosely and turn back to your simmering dinner, leaving the head idling at an easy medium-low while the wafting scent of sweet tomatoes and beef fills the air like a savory cologne.
Letting it go just a minute too long on the new temperature, your dissociative, love-struck stare renders your stew burnt to the bottom of the pot. You smell it first, cussing under your breath as you push the top off and cut the heat.
"No big deal," you reassure yourself, careful not to scrape the burnt layer and risk deepening the lightness of the meal. Sounds from the garage distract you from the meal again, a gentle hammering and thumping, followed by his grunts, then silence. You peek out down the hallway, still holding the dripping stock spoon in your grip. "Yoo-hoo, dinner's almost done!" You yell, eyebrow cocking when you don't hear the immediate clamor of his fervor.
"Well, I didn't want you to worry about it, now." You go to scold him with worry, sauce dripping from the spoon you've carried all the way to the garage. He's left the door ajar, out of eye shot when you push it open. He's got the big-ass truck cranked up — lights up bright as he disappears somewhere under it, dirtying himself again after a long, dirty day at work.
You click your teeth, watching his dusty driving boots push and shuffle from under the vehicle. "Ryomen,"
"I hear you." He bites back, thick voice muffled by the weight of the truck. "It's only — I'll be sleeping all day tomorrow, and while it's on my mind…" He pauses, sliding out from under with his back pressed to the dusty ground. He emerges more dusty than he went in, with unknown black smudges on his thick arms and settled face, and tools littered all around him. "I want to get it done."
"What are you doing down there? Changing the oil?"
"You said dinner's ready?" He grunts as he shifts to his knee, then back on his feet. "Heard you callin', but figured you'd just come on in."
"Just have to make the rice, figure I should warn you." You part your lips, watching the sweat bead and glisten against his heavy muscles as he cranks the truck back down on its front wheels. The greying tips of his hair cling to the base of his neck, falling out of place as he exerts himself one final time before succumbing to your sweetness. The whole scene knocks the breath out of your lungs, holding you captive as he grunts and sighs, putting on a show for you that he knows gets you going.
"You got it." He mutters, keeping the crank under the car and passing you by as he steps back inside. You turn with him, gaze wide and upturned as you scan each of his precise movements. "You got some drip, there." He mentions in passing, landing a surprisingly sharp slap over your ass. "Clueless thing,"
You jump, bodies brushing, dirt rubbing off on you as he passes through the doorway. He points out the small trail of drippings in your path, voice laced with an uncertain kind of endearment. "I-it's not burned, so don't be alarmed by the smell!" Rushing to calm your flush and chase after him, he nods silently, turning back to you when he feels you following close behind.
"You're the only one alarmed here." He speaks slowly, disappearing into the bedroom hallway to leave you with the lingering ghost of him that he always seemed to let drift behind. You peek down at your spoon — to the broth that has dripped down the handle and over your fingers, staining them in salty reds.
You jump back into it, licking your fingertips clean, then losing yourself in the farmhouse-style kitchen sink as you wash the remnants from your hands. You drop the spoon in the soapy water, too, grabbing a new one from the utensil drawer.
Your husband is notoriously a man of few words, leaving you with only a vague idea of what he's doing as the shower cranks on, steam lifting under the bathroom door he always leaves cracked when he bathes. It's an open invitation for you to sit and keep him company, perched on the toilet and just chatting his ear off while he pretends to listen. When he's gone on work trips, he calls you just for that same closeness, hearing the TV hum in the back as you go on and on about your best friend's divorce, or how your extended family reached out to you suddenly after the wedding.
Whether it's complaining or doting, his well-timed grunts and empty reassurances are exactly what you need to keep going. He shows that he cares in small ways like that, never entertaining anyone else's conversation when it's not yours.
Sukuna emerges twenty minutes later with his hair stringy and sticking to his scalp. He's decided to throw on one of the shirts you laundered for him before he left, enjoying the faint scent of daisies on the cotton that isn't as overpowering as the fresh clothes you just folded and tucked away.
He walks in sleep-shorts, hanging low on his waist, riding against the hair that gathers at the peak of his happy trail that he never bothers shaving. It's light — pinkish, now that his grey has grown through. Just as the top flips open on your ricemaker, thick savory steam lifts into the air on the only part of dinner you haven't fucked up yet.
"How was your shower?" You quirk up, antsy and shivering as you start putting together his serving. Over half of the rice you made is his, and it takes you at least five ladles of stew to fill his bowl. The vegetables you roasted are for you — the only thing he swore he wouldn't indulge in your homecooking.
"Nice to not be locked up in a truck stop." He grunts as he sits at your dining table, right at the front. He leans back, kicking his legs out and stretching his arms high above his head. Yawning again as you close in with his meal, he shoots you an eager gaze as you melt under his attention. "Can't stand showering with shoes on."
As you lean over him, sliding his steaming meal towards him, he stares, and it's blatant and unashamed. His eyes linger over your chest, then over the gold jewelry adorning your neck, and back down your waist and the jut of your ass. He never holds himself back from you, but you're glad he waited until the bowl was on the table before grabbing the small of your back, big hand smoothing the pleats in your skirt like he's trying to fix you up. In reality, all he's trying to do is feel you up, so you let him.
"I can't stand the thought of you having to do that every day."
"It's the one thing you don't get used to." His big hand finds its way under your skirt, tracing hotly against the silky-soft skin of your thigh. Sukuna traces the edge of your lace panties as he owns them, tucking his fingers under the fabric, and pulling so the snap can startle you with an endearing squeak.
"Cowboy stew for my cowboy," You giggle, coming down from the ease of his touch. You turn his bowl so he can pick up his spoon and start eating, but instead, he looks up at you and shakes his head. "What?"
"Nothing," He actually, finally smiles, and it feels real enough to stop you in your tracks, even with his hand up your skirt. "A man can't stare at his wife? You're all mine to stare at."
Your husband doesn't let you wash the dishes after he finishes eating. He waits until the bulk of it is set aside to dry, creeping up behind you as you rinse and scrub at the burnt base of your cast-iron. It'd take you months to re-season it back to its former glory, but you can only kick yourself for your carelessness, and the excitement of your husband coming home.
He doesn't speak a word, just casually turns off the flowing water, and pulls your wrists from the scalding pool. You jump at the grace of his touch, swallowing down a gasp as he guides that dripping wet arm over his shoulders, not giving you space to react as he lifts you from the ground. He grunts like he always does, but just barely. You're what he knows, so he carries your weight like it's his.
"What are yo—
He silences you with a kiss, too occupied with your sweet, painted lips to look where he's walking. Sukuna lets his need for you lead the way back to the bedroom, kissing you like he means it, tongue slipping between your lips as you part them to protest.
Your fingers leave wet marks against the back of his shirt, dragging the fabric and getting lost in the closeness when he holds you even tighter. "Wanted to grab you before you locked yourself in that bathroom for three hours."
"You know I like to prepare for you." You whisper, breath hitching softly as he pushes the bedroom door open and leads you to the bed. It's gentle and fleeting, but his hands linger as he puts you on the mattress. The silk fabric of your skirt gathers — your skin sticks together with the afterglow of his shower, and how the humidity just made a home against the feathery hair on his chest and arms as he reaches behind his neck to pull his collar off and over his head.
Sukuna's thick chest is a welcome sight. Once you rise to your elbows to ogle at, jaw dropped and knees rocking together, as the bare buffness makes its sacred home right back in the center of your gaze. He climbs onto the bed, and you rise to your knees, walking over to him with an expectant, easy smile.
"Missed you." You mutter, pressing your palms to his chest, running them down his pecs and over his shoulders. "And this."
"Mm," He hums in response, not quite knowing what to say, or if he should speak at all. He'd rather just show you how tempting you look right you — you, in your knee-length skirt and chiffon blouse, paid for by his hard labor. He likes the way his money looks on you rather than the same fleece overshirts and cotton tees he lives, breathes, and dies in every day. You make it look expensive — like his way of life is worth it.
Sukuna doesn't even notice the brand-new bamboo moisture-wicking sheets that are under him, but he notices the softness of your face and the color on your lips. He memorises it as he closes his big hand over your jaw, pulling you into a kiss, sucking your plush bottom lip between his teeth. His other impatient limb gathers and pulls at your skirt, hoisting it up past your knees, just high enough to slip his hand between your thighs, body heating and mingling with the impossible, sticky heat that blooms just for him.
"Take it off." He demands with few words, only interested in touching and tracing over the soft crotch of your underwear, and not dealing with pesky gold closures. You nod, letting him kiss you to oblivion, eyelids fluttering and lips parched as he sucks all the soul from you.
You fumble and reach behind your waist, tugging your zipper open, reveling in the loss of constriction. Sukuna touches that freedom and pushes you back into the mattress, smiling against the breathy moan that falls from your lips as you melt into your familiar mess of pillows.
"And just lay there and moan my name, lookin' pretty."
"You don't want me to touch you?" You whisper in passing, flicking the buttons to your shirt open as he tosses the skirt across the room — a fist getting caught in your delicate panties. He tugs against the fabric, ruining it for later use with its stretched fibers. You don't see the bulge in his pants — can't feel it, but you know it's there. You know how overcome he is with the way the burning red flush erupts at his neck and bleeds down his torso.
Your panties find their way across the mattress, abandoned somewhere unseen for you to find when you're dreary and weathered with sleep and the aftermath of him. Sukuna stares into your eyes as he pushes himself against the mattress, his glare almost predatory. Your heart drops, then settles in the pit of your stomach.
"Never seen you make something called cowboy stew," He mutters, half-focused on you as you tug the shirt off your shoulder, bra-strap peeking free. "Where'd you find that recipe? What's in it?"
"Huh?" You reply, breathless, tossing your head back as your body heats in a mixture of nerves and arousal. It always feels like the first time when he touches you — huge hand making craters in your thighs as he pulls them apart. "D-did you like it?"
Sukuna doesn't hide his stare, certainly not when your cunt shivers in his presence, leaking wetness that stains and glistens against the inside of your thighs. "Don't understand why it's called that." Like he's taken personal offense, his voice is glum and low. Still, he loses himself in the warmth you exude, pushing his head between your thighs, kissing against the sweet wetness. He hums, then licks you clean, eyes slipping shut at the taste starts to settle.
"I didn't name the dish." You let go, tugging further at your shirt when your head falls back into the pillows. You have a good vantage point from this spot, tilting your head to the side so your deep breaths can flow — not clog up your chest in desperate hicks. Playing with your bra strap, cheeks tingling, you peer at him as Sukuna gets lost in you. "I took out some things — added others I think you'd like instead."
"Didn't even tell you I was coming home." He kisses the left crook of your thighs, nose bumping against your folds — aching and waiting for him.
"I heard it in the wind."
"You and them silly superstitions." He finally gives you, grip tightening as he dives in. Sukuna knows your body — what excites you — and still, he makes it a point to savor this. His tongue starts at your entrance, dipping and gathering the pooled arousal, humming right back into your pulsing cunt.
You gasp, breath shivering as his tongue laps at your entrance, expertly making its way to your clit with a speed he's mastered in your time together. Sukuna's warm lips close around the bud, sucking it between hollowed cheeks, eyes slipping shut as your thighs shake and shiver. He has to pin you open, knowing you have every mind to strangle him between your heat until he takes that fateful last breath.
It sounds like Heaven — the only issue being, Sukuna would let you. His soul feels so close to home when it's buried between your thighs, memorizing your sweetness as it mingles with his spit and slides down his throat. Exhaling hotly against your heat once he pulls away, Sukuna smirks when he feels how sensitive and overcome you are already, with yourleft heel running down his back, pushing and flexing as the sensation renders you obsessive and crazy.
Your head flies back into your pillows, tummy shivering, unable to pull yourself free from the onslaught like your body naturally needs. The stimulation hits you right in the gut, especially when he focuses those sinful lips at your leaking hole — his nose jutting and digging into your clit, making your back arch, neck tightening.
You want to speak — to tell him that it's so good, but you can't find the breath. Every single time you part your lips, a jumbled version of his name spills out into his mop of speckled hair, going blurry around the edges as your hips lift off the bed.
"I know." He growls into your cunt, forcing your thighs open when they fall together with the force of submission. "Want me to tell you how sweet you taste? Mm…" Sukuna knows what he's doing, and he does it on purpose, just to make your bones sing. His words vibrate throughout your core like they're singing hymns into your bloodstream, making you shake, quiver, and go weak against it.
Sukuna knows immediately when you cum, flying his eyes open when you go limp so he can make out the way your face scrunches before going completely blank — like you've seen a ghost. It's endearing, and a sight he sees every time he looks at you, filing that intimate moment in the back of his mind every time you smile or purposefully pick at his nerves.
He drinks you up like it's his final meal, humming, huffing, and grunting as he humps lazily against the friction of the bed. If he's not careful, he'd make a mess in the pants you'd have to clean tomorrow, and though the messy sight would be endearing come morning, he has to physically rip himself onto his knees to keep him from finishing at the sound of your cries and the pinch of your sweet features.
Sukuna knows exactly what way to make love to you in, his favorite — your least favorite. He wants to stare down at you in missionary, so he mounts you before you can put two and two together, still hazy and holding onto sanity like you're holding onto your bamboo sheets.
Like they're on fire, Sukuna rips off his pants, shuffling them down his thighs just enough to comfortably make a home between your pulled knees. He shushes you like you're a fussy child, shaking his head as you whimper and flutter your lashes, trying to come down to the tightness of his grip. A hand lost to you works between your bodies, wrapping around his thick girth, pinching at the base so he doesn't finish as soon as he slips inside.
"Open up and look at me." He demands, needing to see the way your vision clouds over when you feel him split you open. The view makes his eyes water — it makes him crazy and territorial, and it's what he sees on those night-drenched roads when there's nothing to keep him company but the buzz of the radio and the constant hum of his tires spinning against the pavement.
"Hey." His voice dips into something sinister — the swollen, thoroughly underused head of his cock just whispering against your fluttering entrance. "Open the fucking eyes, now. I didn't wait a month to see you sleep, and you know that."
"I-I'm—
"Look alive." He nods, reaching up to squeeze your chin in his hands. Concentrating over you in a plank only held up by the strength in his knees and a single hand pressed to the mattress, he yanks your attention back down to Earth, nodding when that pretty, familiar gaze flickers back into view. "Good girl — obedient."
"I love you." Before you can fully get the words out, as you stare into his crimson gaze, he slips inside, and it feels exactly how you knew it would — like home. The thing you do — the one with your lovely gaze makes Sukuna crazy. It's impossible to hold back, but he knows he needs to. He can't let this moment slip from his fingers, because it's built up so perfectly and in time with every single one of his nastiest, night-spanning fantasies.
"I love you, too." He answers, eyes squeezing shut as his hips stutter and rock into yours, mind falling into complete static as your soft walls spasm and loosen around him. It feels like he's going insane, eye twitching as he hits that halfway point, feeling the tip nudge against your gummy walls.
Sukuna bottoms out and is so overcome that he has to hide it. You moan and whimper into the air — into his shoulder as he presses his body into yours. All the air is knocked loose from your chest, and you're too constricted to gasp or beg for mercy, so you succumb to the closeness as it's your death… a bitterly sexy and sweet way of losing it all. You can only sit up and catch a soft breeze when he dips his head to your neck, panting into your wet collarbone, his teeth skimming your shoulder and snapping against the strap of your bra. It falls when he pushes it, but it's not enough to pull it off, just to make you look unkempt and fucked-up — his favorite sight.
Then, his teeth move to the gold chain hanging from your neck, sitting high as gravity pulls it into the pillows under you. Sukuna bites down on the metal, grunting as he jerks and circles his hips inside of you.
You're nodding for nobody — nothing making sense as you run your hands over the ink painted against his huge shoulders, and down his back. All you can do is whisper out invisible praises that keep him going in this sweet, touch-starved pace, too taken to speak your own-damn self. It's just too good. He's so close.
The chain falls from his teeth, wet and cold, jerking life back to your soul as you peel open your eyes. Sukuna sits up, studying that shimmer in your gaze. He reaches down and strokes your leg, massaging your knee as he guides it over his hip. After years, you know what this is — Sukuna can't risk you trying to overcome his position with your writhing legs. He needs you pinned like a fish as he feeds you every single greuling inch of his thick cock.
He wants you on display, but before he shakes you off and gives you what you want, he dips back down and kisses you. Demanding your neck in a way that proves that you're his, you whimper and whine into the intimacy, eyes fluttering shut as he falls from your lips, over your neck, and eventually trailing to the crook of your arm. He reaches behind his back, digging thick fingers into your arm, and pins your wrist above your writhing bodies, giving him the perfect angle to lean down and lick a fat, concentrated swipe through your armpit. He savors the scent — the lingering cleanliness of your wash and scentless deodorant. There's a soft taste of your cologne there, too, and it drives him insane.
That lick turns into kisses, and those kisses feed into the way he fucks into the mattress like he's scared you're going to run away from the body-to-body.
Sukuna gets lost in it the same way every time. He always reverts back to the first time he felt you — how he lost his mind and threw his livelihood to the wolves just to feel you wrap around him again. Your breathy moans echo in his head, beating off the sides and mixing with his thoughts where they stay forever.
Slamming into your sopping cunt, filling the room with the lewdness, he doesn't want to think about anything else. He's hardly thinking about you, letting you scratch and pull at whatever you need, head nodding as your moans fade back into full-chested cries. Behind him, your legs jerk and your feet stiffen, head rocking back with a bent neck like you're trying to expel something impure from your soul.
The pleasure renders you silent so that his groans can be the soundtrack to your pleasure. You wish you could tell him just how much you love and need him, but the way you're taking him is all the proof he needs.
As you fade in and out of reality, you can't help but hold onto him a bit tighter, tears springing to your eyes as he kisses you — body writhing and giving you everything it's got, because it needs you just like you need him.
Every unsaid word — every whisper and twitch in the night gathered and festered in a sealed jar for a month until Sukuna grabbed and broke the seal without strain. It fuels him now that he's into it, sitting up and flipping you onto your stomach so he can finish himself off while you cry and moan his name into the sheets.
Through it all, and though he hates to admit it, Sukuna feels like the ripe thirty days without you this time were worth every single second. He doesn't roll off of you all night, and you're not too tired to complain, you just can't fathom pushing him away once he's been so far.
Sukuna leaves you again, a week later.
Just like you felt the shift in the day he arrived, you feel it as you zip his duffel bag shut.
Attached at the hip for a solid seven days, Sukuna was glad to send you away, even if it was just to shower without him. He lingered as you cooked dinner — drove you into town with all the windows down, so he could watch your hair turn silently in the breeze. In public, he didn't hold you by the hand, but instead kept you at his side with a strong arm at your waist.
You bought him a watch, and he bought you a new dress that he peeled off the second you put it on. Every night, like a ritual, he fell asleep on your chest and didn't move an inch — groaning and pulling you back when you tried to push away. Every bath — every achingly boring football game you had to sit through all fueled him in ways you couldn't see.
"You get into any more trouble with that car," He walks back into the room, pulling a grey, rolled sleeve flannel over his broad shoulders. "Don't wait until I get back to tell me."
"Yes, sir." You smile, teeth shimmering like dusted pearls as you hand him his heavy bag. Sukuna doesn't smile back, but you can see the lightness in his eyes when you do. Instead, he nods and shoulders the weight of his life for the next two weeks, already planning what he'd do to you the next time he has you all alone, locked up in his arms.
You follow him out of the room as he swings his bag over his shoulder, heavy footsteps shaking the floorboards. The front door draws closer and closer — closing in on the two of you like a twisted sort of death trap that you can't ever seem to claw your way out of. Sure, tonight you could sleep, tossing and turning on your mattress and eat salads and bagels all the time, but the freedom comes at the bitter, familiar loss of your husband.
Whether temporary or not, losing him feels like the first time all over again.
Sukuna opens the door like it's so easy, regarding you for half a second to make sure you're still biting at his heels. "Stay up here, babe." He mentions crossing the metal threshold onto the porch that he painted the summer after he bought you this house. "Gonna get your pretty feet all dirty."
"Wouldn't you like to see that," You hum, resting your hip against the doorway as he jogs down the steps. "Hey, be safe, now. Call me when you stop for the night."
"Don't have to remind me every damn time."
"I do." You stand up straight, reaching for the banister as you step onto the porch. Sukuna pulls the driver's side door to his SUV open, swallowing down a smirk.
"Stay your ass on that porch—
"Call me, Ryomen."
"Alright." It's simple, but it still takes a push to give it up as easily as you speak it. "See you, baby doll."
You give him a polite smile, grip squeaking as it tightens against the railing. You're holding yourself back, but you can't say anything else. The car door closes on the rest of your messy, jumbled thoughts, breaking you free from the anxiety that always seems to spike once he gets behind a wheel.
The engine turns over. You can see him staring at you through the streaked windshield, shaking his head when you motion for him to crank the window down. "Load's gonna leave without me, babe!"
His sharp tone, though quite playful for him, strikes you silent as he shifts the car in gear. The second his gaze falls — the break lights illumining the whisper of the morning behind him, you call out for him again;
𑣲 18+ older!boyfriend tojis loves to mess with his girlfriend.
nsfw, smut, breeding, kissing, ass grabbing, established relationship, chubby/curvy!reader, fem!reader, fluff, older man, toji being a little shit.
your boyfriends older.
built like a goddamn tank. his arms big and scarred. broad shoulders carrying the weight of the world. he's got the hands of a killer, heavy and calloused, rough against your soft skin.
there's a scar that runs across the corner of his lip, curling just the right amount whenever he finds something the slightest bit amusing.
he smells of something discreetly masculine. something heavy and strong, like a mix of cologne and smoke.
his hands are big on you, either planted on your waist or palming over the curve of your back, always sliding closer to the nice fat of your ass. grabbing and kneading the flesh with the type of greed only a man like him could possess.
the mans love language is physical touch.
he likes to sink his teeth into the curve of your cheek, soft and playful as he leans back with a huff of laughter. he squeezes your cheeks together just to press a wet kiss right on top of your glossy lips. he loves the way you glare at him, cute face scrunched up as you huff and shove at him.
he walks around the place half naked, barefoot and shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his hips most the time. lazy and comfortable in the comfort of his own home.
and hes real nasty.
he'll show up behind you, burying his face into the curve of your neck. Inhaling the smell of your skin right into his lungs.
his hand'll move, snaking over your waist to palm at the softness of your stomach. even if you're in the middle of something, he doesnt scare. his hands are always on you, hes a man obsessed with his pretty lady.
he doesnt quit until you whine and shove him away for licking a stripe up the length of your cheek, pressing a wet, sloppy kiss right on your ear.
and he carries everything for you.
he's confident enough in his masculinity to be able to hold your bag for you, even if the whole thing is a star contrast to how he looks. when you're out together, his favourite thing is to walk behind you, eyes fixed on the way your hips sway from the back.
and he manspreads. thats a known fact.
his muscular thighs take up half the space on the couch, his arms sprawled over the back of the couch like he has every right to do so. even though he knows you hate it.
but the truth is that its just a way for him to get you to press up against him.
and if he falls asleep? hes snoring loud enough to shake the walls, head tipped back, mouth wide open.
thats usually the time when you think you're able to mess with him.
but if you wake him up? hes glaring down at you, his big hands finding a way to manhandle you into his lap. now forcing you to sleep with him, head tucked into your neck because no one messes with his naps. (he takes like five a day)
its always a win win for him.
and the thing that ticks you off the most? him taking advantage of the fact that hes so much larger than you. when you playfight, you know he's already won.
he yanks you back to him, his grip heavy on your waist as he slides his cold hands under your top, tickling you everywhere because hes such an arrogant asshole.
you're in the bathtub together, hes behind you, broad frame taking up most the space as he leans back, his arms resting on each side of the porcelain tub.
you're sat between his legs, eyes shut, head resting back on his shoulder. its so nice and peaceful.
but tojis a little shit who can't stay still for a second, so it doesn't take long before he lands a firm slap into the water in front of you, making it jolt and splash all over your face.
"toji-!" you squeak, huffing as you sit up and turn to smack him on his chest, essentially meaning that you're now pissed off at him.
he snorts, his forearm flexing when he brings it up to hold you still around your shoulders, head tilting while his lips kiss at your soft cheeks.
he laughs, low and gruff, continuing his assault on your face, holding you tight against him, he loves the way you squirm against him in the bath.
he loves you.
he's never been so attracted to a woman before in his life, something about your attitude just turns him on.
your thighs, those full, round breasts, the curve of your ass, the pouch of flesh on your tummy, it drives him insane, it all makes him real hot and bothered. you see it in the way his eyes drag over your body, half-lidded and hazy, his growing bulge already prominent against his trousers.
if hes feeling sweet, he'll fuck you slow and deep, cock plunging into your gummy walls, brushing and dragging over each soft spot inside you, pulling sweet sounds out of your mouth.
he'll hold you, murmur sweet nothings into your ear while he gets his fill, hands brushing over your sides, hips rocking against yours.
and when he cums, its sweet and pleasurable, his seed filling you so deep as you moan, begging him to keep going, to fill you up until you're full with his kid.
but if hes feeling mean?
hes rough, pelvis slapping against your ass as he pounds into your pussy like theres no tomorrow, his grip on you is tight, mouth sucking marks into your skin. his skin slaps against yours, sweaty and hot as he fills you up with his cock.
you can feel every ridge, every vein inside of you as he slams harder and deeper. god, hes so dirty, pounding up against your poor cervix. he grunts and groans, his eyes fixed on where you both meet, his cock lathered in your juices.
and when he cums? he's groaning, pumping you up oh so full until his cum leaks out of you. Its thick, and theres so much of it everywhere.
thats how it usually goes.
you think your boyfriend has some sort of cuteness aggression towards you.
he loves to bite you, sink his teeth into your plushy flesh. he loves to hold you, squeeze you close enough that you swear you both might merge into one.
he adores that cute face of yours, his eyes always roving over your pretty features.
he holds you close and murmurs cute things into your ears. his fingers digging deep into the flesh of your thighs.
your cheek is squished against his bicep, sitting pressed closed to him as he speaks.
"you're gon' be the mama to my kids,"
"my angel,"
"so cute n' round, like a lil peach."
"m'baby. m'sweet girl" he murmurs, his big hand brushing over your hair, pressing a kiss to you ear.
he says it, and its true.
he presses kisses everywhere on you. your cheeks, your breasts, your stomach, your arms, your nose, your brows, your lips.
under all that rough, male bravado, and that playful nature of his, he loves you so deeply, so much that his heart aches.
when he's not with you, he feels useless. like theres nothing to do if it doesn't mean he can hold his woman.
when he's with shiu, he spends half the time sprawled onto his seat, lazy and half-paying attention to shius words.
he'll have his beat up phone in one hand, flicking through pretty pictures of you, occasionally zooming into something, a lil smirk pulling at the corner of his lip.
he hums in response to shiu, not even paying attention.
thats all he uses his phone for, really. to talk to you, talk to people like shiu, and keep photos of you to go through when he's not with you.
݁ ❛ ✧ 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒 ꒱ older !sam winchester 𖬺 fem reader. you’re bored and whiny in the passenger seat of the impala..
𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤 [ 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 ] 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 𐔌 nsfw. fingering. squirting. use of daddy. ꒱ !!
݁ ❛ ✧ 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 ꒱ track three of 𝑣𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠 event. he treats getting you off like it’s his sworn duty..
“i know what you need.. baby i’m so sorry you’re feeling this way..” sam slid up the top of your mini bottoms, allowing him clear access to the damp cotton underneath.
“you were just writhing in your seat, weren’t you? you needed my help..? you should’ve told sweetheart. i’ll stop anything to make you feel better..” he rubbed tiny circles over your mound, other hand still languidly keeping the car straight. you weren’t going fast or anywhere important.. at least it wasn’t as important as you now.
“i know.. i just didn’t want.. ah.. not while you’re driving..” you watched his movements, words stuttering as his thumb came down to press right on your clit, already overstimulating you.
“oh, sweet thing.. i said anything..” he moved his hand to gently caress your inner left knee, “can you spread your legs for me?” sam glanced over as you did, seeing the moist spot you created in the leather, “fuc.. baby you were leaking this much?” he adjusted himself in his seat, getting turned the fuck on by how needy you were. “’m so sorry i didn’t get to you sooner. she was crying for me.. oh baby..” he winced.
rubbing with his whole hand over you, you gasped at how it engulfed your panties. you could only see hand. big, veiny hand. you latched onto his wrist, biting down on your lip. spreading your legs wider..
“is it.. is it too much..?” you worried being this wet wasn’t normal. this attracted to sam. to his driving. to his stoic demeanor in the driver seat.
“mm.. i love my baby’s juices on me.. go ahead and make a mess. spill all over your seat. i want to see it, sweetheart. i want you to soak my hand. let me know i’m doing good, getting my baby off just how she likes it.. deserves..”
“augh..! okay..” you gripped onto his forearm as his hand delved in, spreading your pussy lips open in your underwear, rubbing the folds, bunching them.. toying with you.
the damp spot grew bigger as you watched his fingers move around beneath the cotton, “good girl.. make a big mess for daddy, hump on his hand if you need to, baby. fuck.. get yourself off. use me, use my hand. you’re so good.. you’re so cute. my needy little baby..” he poked two fingers in, punching in and out so fast..
sam ignored how close he felt in his own pants. how he was slightly humping the air. licking his lips. straining not to throw you on his lap and bounce you on his cock.
one of your hands held onto his bicep as the other pushed his hand closer to your pussy. his arm acted as a seatbelt. a seatbelt and a toy all at once.
“uh huh.. guide me how you want it..” his hand gripped the wheel as he glanced out the window at fellow driving pedestrians, “give your pussy what she needs..” he started swiping at your pussy with his whole hand, sloshing around your juices. making you squirm and squeal..
“ugh..! sa..sam..” you bucked up into his hand, little squirts of juices shooting out of you. you were slipping in the seat, knees touching the center console and the door. pelvis gyrating, gripping onto sam’s arm.
“oh, shitt.. my baby girl a little squirter for me? marking up my car with her precious juice? such a big girl cunt.. come on, baby, give it to me. daddy wants your little squirts. drench his hand.. fuck, baby i’m gonna cum just looking at you..”
you whined louder, arms circling around his, bunching up and up, more wet seeping out.. dashing out onto the dash.
your body twitched with aftershocks as you calmed, mewling and sobbing on sam’s arm..
“ngh.. good girl.. such a good girl..” sam shot up in his pants, rubbing your folds gently as you both finished.
AU zombie!sam winchester x vamp!dean winchester x fem!reader 𓂃 Both SFW & NSFW sections include explicit sexual content with possessive behavior, plus Sam's features body horror elements and Dean's features blood play/biting with primal predator themes.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ art by okvcko on twt!
SFW 𓂃 ZOMBIE!SAM WINCHESTER
He shouldn't be capable of this. Love. Devotion. The kind of bone-deep need that makes his sluggish heart attempt something like a normal rhythm.
But then there's you.
Every time you look at him—really look at him, past the decay and the death and the wrongness of what he is—something in his chest tightens. It's not quite pain. It's not quite a pleasure. It's something, and after years of feeling nothing but hunger and cold, He'll take it.
He's rotting. Slowly, carefully preserved through rituals and Dean's obsessive care, but rotting nonetheless. His skin is too pale, too cold. His eyes are pale white like the goddamn moon. Half of his skin is melting or torn off. His movements are just slightly off, as if his body remembers being human but can't quite replicate it anymore. He's a walking corpse held together by magic and sheer stubborn will.
And you loved him anyway.
He watches you sleep sometimes, Dean curled around your other side, and He's terrified. Terrified he's lose control. Terrified that the hunger will win. Afraid you'll wake up one day and finally see him for the monster he is.
But then you reach for him in your sleep, fingers seeking his cold hand, and you smile. Even unconscious, you want him close.
Dean says He's too careful. He holds back too much. But he doesn't understand—he's had three centuries to master his control. Sam had barely a decade, and every day is a battle between the man He was and the thing He become.
You make him want to win that battle. You make him want to be better.
NSFW 𓂃 ZOMBIE!SAM WINCHESTER
[CW: explicit sexual content, possessive behavior, body horror elements]
He can't feel the way He used to. That's the cruelest joke of undeath—sensation is muted, distant, like experiencing everything through thick glass. Touch registers as pressure. Temperature is almost meaningless. Pain is just... information.
But with YOU? God, with you, he feels everything.
The first time you saw his cock, he almost couldn't go through with it. It's not like the rest of him—it's worse. Mottled purple and gray, discolored in patches where the flesh has started to break down despite the preservation spells. The skin is textured wrong, rough in some places, too soft in others, with dark veins spiderwebbing across the shaft. It's cold. Always cold. Dead.
Sam watched their face, waiting for the disgust, the rejection, the moment you'd realize exactly what kind of monster you'd let into your bed.
Instead, they reached for me. Wrapped your warm hand around his damaged cock and looked at Sam with nothing but want.
"Sam," you whispered. "I want all of you."
Now, when he's inside you, He's hyperaware of every way He's wrong. His cock is cold—you gasp every time he first pushes in, that shock of ice against your heat. The texture is different, rougher, the ridges of damaged tissue dragging against your walls in ways that shouldn't feel good but somehow do. You tell him that you can feel every inch, every imperfection, and you crave it.
He's obsessed with making you feel good despite his ruined body. His fingers work your clit with desperate precision while his dead cock fills them, cold and textured and wrong but yours. All yours. He angles his hips to hit that spot inside that makes them scream, using every trick he can remember from when he was alive, when he was whole.
"Sam, fuck—" you gasp, clenching around his mottled shaft, and you can feel it even through the numbness. The way your living body accepts my dead one. The way you pull him deeper, wanting this, wanting you.
You grip their hips too hard, leaving bruises, fucking into them with a desperation that borders on violence. Mine. My cold, damaged cock is driving into their perfect heat. His dead hands on your living skin. He ruined his body trying to give you everything.
When you came on his cock—that cold, textured, wrong cock—crying his name like he's something holy instead of something rotting, He almost believed he could be human again.
Almost. (tbh I'll fuck Sam for life..leave my freaky ass alone LMAOO)
SFW 𓂃 VAMP!DEAN WINCHESTER
He's been a vampire for three hundred years. He seen empires rise and fall. He tasted blood from every corner of the world. I've loved and lost and learned to stop feeling anything too deeply because immortality is a bitch and everyone you care about turns to dust eventually.
And then there's you.
One human. One fragile, breakable, temporary human, and suddenly three centuries of careful control are hanging by a thread.
He can hear your heartbeat from across the room. Steady, strong, alive. It calls to him like a siren song, and every instinct he has screams to bite, to drink, to take. The hunger is always there, a constant ache in his jaw, a burning in his throat.
But he doesn't. He won't.
Because you trust me. You look at him with those eyes and see Dean, not the monster. You let him close, let him touch, let him love you, and he would rather walk into the sun than betray that trust.
Watching you with Sam is its own kind of torture and pleasure. His baby brother, dead but not gone, finds something like happiness in your arms. You're so gentle with him, so patient with his struggles. You love him like he's not a walking corpse, and he loves you for it.
Y'all are both a fucked-up little family. A zombie, a vampire, and the human stupid enough to love you both.
He'd spent three hundred years alone, even when he wasn't. But with you? With Sam and you curled up in bed together, safe behind wards and locks?
He's finally home.
He just has to make sure he doesn't kill you. That's the fun part.
NSFW 𓂃 VAMP!DEAN WINCHESTER
[CW: explicit sexual content, blood play, biting, primal/predator themes]
The bloodlust is worst during sex. That's what nobody tells you about being a vampire—arousal and hunger are wired together, and when he's buried inside you, feeling your pulse racing, your blood singing through your veins, it takes every ounce of three-hundred-year-old control not to bite.
Well. Not to bite fatally.
Your neck is right there. Throat exposed, pulse jumping under thin skin, and He can smell the blood just beneath the surface. Rich and sweet and theirs. His fangs ache. His mouth waters. Every thrust makes the hunger worse because you feel so good, so alive, so perfect wrapped around his cock.
"Dean," you moan, and the sound goes straight to his dick and his bloodlust in equal measure.
He wants to flip you over and sink his fangs into your throat while he fuck you. He wants to drink you down while you cum, taste your pleasure mixed with your blood. He wants to mark you so thoroughly that every supernatural creature for miles knows you are his.
But he doesn't. He couldn't.
So He settle for your shoulder. Your wrist. The soft inside of your thigh. Places where he can bite and drink without risking too much. Just enough to take the edge off, to satisfy the beast while keeping you safe.
The taste of your blood on his tongue while he's inside them is transcendent. It's better than any high, any drug, any experience in three centuries of existence. You gasp and tighten around him, and he has to fight not to lose control completely.
Sam's usually there too, and that helps. Watching his brother worship you with his cold mouth while Dean takes you from behind. Seeing you caught between Sam & Dean, overwhelmed with pleasure. It grounds Dean. Reminds him this isn't just about hunger—it's about love.
"So good," Dean growls against your skin, licking the blood from the bite on their shoulder. "So fucking perfect. You take us so well, sweetheart."
You whimper, pushing back against me, and he grips your hips hard enough to bruise. Another mark. Another claim. He's a possessive bastard, and you're ours.
When you come, he lets himself bite again—just a little, just enough—and the combination of your blood and your pleasure and the tight clench of your body around his cock sends him over the edge. He comes with his fangs in your flesh and his brother's name on your lips, and it's perfect and terrible, and everything. Dean never knew what he needed.
Afterward, he licked the wounds closed. Vampire saliva—it's useful like that. You're boneless and satisfied between Sam & Dean, marked and claimed, and there's.
"Love you," Deam murmurs against your hair, and he means it with every dead cell in his body.
Three hundred years, and He'd never meant anything more.
⠀a/n : not beta read, all mistakes are my own because im supposed to be studying but samantha winchester is more important to me than electrophysiology soooo.... everyone be nice okay..? okay.
sam was very sensitive, that much was always obvious. sensitive to the point that a simple make out session would make her a mess of whines and breathy hiccups.
just feeling your fingers rub at her perky nipples through her flannel dress shirt while you trailed kisses along her jaw made her brain melt.
you've barely even started to actually touch her, gently rubbing feather light circles around her clothed nipples while she whines out your name like a prayer against your lips.
she always makes it so obvious that her weakness is your touch, even when it's a touch so small her brain can barely even register the pressure. it's cute, makes your heart skip a beat knowing how much of an affect you have on her.
"i've barely even touched you sammy," you whisper against her jaw as you continue to trail kisses along the bone. the feeling of your hot breath against her cold skin sending shivers down her spine.
a ragged breath falls from her spit-glossed lips as she begins to pant out a response.
"can't help it," her voice trembles as your fingers continue their slow journey down her body, warm fingers traveling towards the waistband of her jeans. "not when you're being such a tease-"
you gently suck at her neck, a reddish-purple mark blooming as you gently nibble before pulling away. "don't rush me, be patient."
she whines as you nibble at the sensitive mark on her neck before giving you a nod, a quiet promise to behave. with an amused half-smile, you unbutton her jeans as you continue peppering kisses along her neck.
sam makes her pleasure clear as day, her quiet pants communicating her desire in a way that words could never. it almost makes you feel bad for teasing her, for going as slow as you are. almost.
making quick work of the buttons on her jeans, you slowly tug them down her soft thighs as she lifts her hips eagerly.
it's cute, her desperate need to feel your hands on her in any way she can. it's cute and so her.
you let out a marveled sound, a mix between a laugh and a content sigh as you tug the rest of her jeans off.
she's wearing your favorite pair on panties. of course she is. because as much as she wants to hide it, she enjoys teasing you almost as much as you enjoy teasing her.
without bothering to tease her any further, your hands slide underneath the waistband of the floral patterned cotton. your finger pressing gently against her clit almost immediately, the way you touch her calculated from months of experience.
her reaction is practically immediate. a soft, ragged exhale falling from her lips as you allow her the pleasure she's been so desperately seeking.
your finger tracing light circles against the nub as you continue pressing light kisses against her pulse point, feeling the way she melts in your hands like clay.
"fuck-" she croaks, the word coming out more broken than she'd like for it to have. it makes your own cunt throb hearing how pleased she is already with just a few gentle circles on her bundle of nerves.
leaving her with a few more gentle circles, you finally move to glide your fingers through the slickness that'd gathered in the seat of her panties.
teasingly, you push your middle finger against her entrance. she's practically gushing at this point, leaving the digit soaked already without even applying much pressure.
her hips buck eagerly against your finger, echoing her need to feel you inside of her.
you give her a look, one that she knows all too well at this point. one that practically tells her to say what she wants.
"need to feel you-" her voice a breathy mutter with her eyes conveying the same desperation.
you pause, giving her a knowing look before she finishes her statement with a single word.
"please."
by that point, you don't have the willpower to even attempt to continue with your teasing. from the soft whines falling from her lips to the way her hips eagerly buck against your finger, it's all too cute to ignore. who were you to deny her what she'd been begging for?
not bothering to give any warning, you gently push your middle finger into her heat.
even with just one finger inside she's a whiny mess, needy mewls falling from her lips as you curl your fingers against that sweet spot that turns her brain to mush.
as whiny as she was, it was still clear as day she was far from pleased with just a single finger, even as you began to pump in and out with slow strokes.
"'ts not enough is it? my girl needs more, hm?" you mutter, your finger never stopping its gentle pace on her slick cunt. "tell me what you want, sammy."
the slick sounds of your finger inside of her echoes off the walls as she tries to form a coherent sentence in her mind. you can't help but give a teasing half-smile as you can practically see the gears turning in her head.
after a few moments, her lips finally part, ready to speak. her voice is low and quivering as she finally articulates her thoughts into words.
"a-another.. need another."
the corners of your mouth work up in amusement. even after moments of thinking her words through, she still couldn't help but stumble over herself. it was so pathetic yet adorable.
without wasting more time, you offer a hum as your index finger joins your middle finger, gently scissoring the two inside of her before pressing a gentle suck to her clit.
you begin thrusting both fingers inside of her, keeping up the intimate rhythm you'd set as you continue to kiss and suck at her clit. by this point, your own cunt was clenching around nothing as you pleasured your girlfriend.
her hands fly to your hair, trying to be gentle as she tugs on the strands with ragged whines.
sam keeps her eyes on you, only looking away to throw her head back against the pillows when you curled both fingers to meet that gummy spot right against her slick walls.
with a gentle kiss, you release her clit only to start speeding up the pace of your fingers.
"atta girl, feels so good huh?" you jest, curling the digits once more as she nods like a broken bobble head.
she's close, it's obvious she is with how her hazel eyes are rolling in the back of her skull.
the only noises she can muster up are weak mewls and incoherent babbles as heat starts to bubble in her abdomen.
"my girls so close, yeah? come on, cum on my fingers."
that's all it takes for her to finally unravel, her hands tugging on your hair as she lets out a weak cry of your name.
the sloppy wet sounds only get louder as she cums on your fingers, never stopping the pace as you continuously curl them against her g-spot.
pressing gentle kisses to her clit, you offer words of encouragement as she starts to come down from her high.
"that's it, that's my girl. doing so good, sammy"
her response is a hiccup as she gentles her grip on your hair. laying her head against the pillows, she lets out an uneven breath she didn't even notice she was holding in.
you keep your fingers inside of her for a moment more before finally pulling them from the heat of her cunt, pressing one final suck to her clit before lapping at the remaining slick on your fingers.
sam is utterly spent, her legs slightly quivering as she tries to come back from the mind-blowing orgasm you'd just given her.
all you can do is watch with amusement and slight pride, knowing that you're the only person who can make her feel so good.
summary: clark never wanted to take showers with you. you didn't know why. there was no reasonable explanation as to why your boyfriend didn't want to just.. get into the goddamn shower with you... until now.
warnings: clark being secretive, lil bit of angst, mentions of nudity (duh) more comedic than sad though, mentions of sex but no actual smut lol
authors note: this was requested by this lovely anon right here so credits to them :3 i wasnt sure if you wanted there to be smut so apologies in advance
you truly didn't understand what clarks deal was. like... he has, in fact, seen you naked. he's been inside of you, actually.
which honestly made this whole situation so much more confusing.
"i'm gonna hop into the shower... care to join?" you smirked softly as you leaned your head against the doorframe.
clark blinked quickly as if it was urgent, glancing down at his watch before chuckling nervously.
"i- uh- work! gotta head to work!" he rambled quickly as he walked towards the closet and began rummaging through his clothes.
"...you just got back from the gym." your eyebrows furrowed softly as you watched him pull on his work clothes swiftly.
clark turned towards you as he was in the middle of doing his tie, smiling that smile you knew too well. the look of being caught in a lie.
"...i showered there...?" he posed it like a question, as if he was trying to convince himself more than you.
you glared at him with your tongue pressed against the inside of your cheek as he finished with his tie, grabbing his book bag before leaning down to press a soft kiss to your cheek. "clark-"
"i'll be home at 5!" he said without letting you finish, rushing out of the front door as quick as he had walked in it. and you just... stood there. irritation bubbling in your throat before swallowing the lump that pooled in your mouth.
and that wasn't the last time.
he'd always dodge when you asked. and of course, you wouldn't force him. you were upset, of course, but you didn't want him to do something he didn't want to. but you were truly curious. which is why, it wouldn't hurt to ask...
"do you like... not like seeing me naked or something?" you said as you watched him walk out of the shower, his glasses almost glued to his face with his towel wrapped around his waist.
clark freezes as he looks at you with wide eyes. you're sitting on the bed, the covers almost pulled up to your chin as you glared at him.
"wha- what are you talking about? that's not-"
you huffed as you sat upright, your hands on either side of your legs.
“every time i ask you to shower with me, you turn me down. why?” you lift your arms and cross them over your chest while you continue to glare at him, irritation piercing through your eyes.
clark opens his mouth briefly just to shut it again, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as his other hand moves down to hold the towel around his waist from falling.
“i just… i… like my privacy when i’m showering… i-it doesn’t have anything to do with you, baby i promise—”
“is that really the best thing you could come up with?” you grumble with your head tilted to the side.
clark winced at the sarcastic tone in your voice, sighing softly before slowly making his way towards the bed to sit down at your covered feet, reaching his hand to rest on your blanketed thigh.
"i—just know that... it doesn't have anything to do with you. i promise. just uh— personal... issues..."
"like what?" you continued to glare at him with your arms crossed over your chest.
"...just… don't worry about it. okay?" he smiled softly in hopes to calm you down, but to no avail. you were still upset. no matter which excuse he could come up with.
"...okay." you mumble simply, pulling the blanket back up your body before turning on your side to face away from him.
clark felt horrible. for keeping the other side of him from you, a secret that should be yours to keep. he sighed before standing up from the bed and walking towards his closet to change. as he pulled on his pants, he turned to you, listening to your heart beat slowly underneath your skin, steady breaths leaving your lips as you fell into a deep slumber.
the next morning, you entered the shower, without clark. again. you realized it was a lost cause, and it wasn't a big deal anyways, right? if he didn't wanna shower with you, so what?
you sighed softly as you lathered the shampoo in your hair, steam surrounding your body with the warmth from the water. you were so out of it, that you hadn't noticed that clark had sneakily hopped in behind you, his figure towering over you as he slowly pulled the shower door shut behind him.
as you heard the shower door closed softly, you smiled to yourself, feeling clark's arms wrap around your torso as he pressed kisses to the side of your neck, with you tilting your head to the side just a bit to give him more access.
you hummed softly at the feeling of his lips on your skin, pulling your hands away from your lathered hair before resting them against clarks. you turned to face him a with soft smile... before it vanished.
the man standing in front of you, was not clark.
it was superman.
he furrowed his eyebrows at your expression, interlocking his hands with yours as he pulled you close to him. "what's wrong?"
you stared up at him in shock, as if your brain was processing the biggest file known to man.
"...s-s...uperman..." you stuttered out as you pulled your hands away from him, backing up just barely without realizing that you now stood under the shower head, water cascading down your lathered hair... along with your shampoo.
"baby—"
"shit!" you screamed as soap made its way into your eyes, bringing your hands up to your face and rubbing the burning sensation away from your eyes as you turned to face the water.
"here— let m—"
"do not touch me!— oh my fuck—" you yelled in... anger? pain? clark wasn't completely sure. he watched as you washed the soap from your eyes quickly, blinking rapidly before pressing the heel of your palm against your eyes once more, whether it was to aid the pain in your irises, or to avoid having to look at metropolis' hero standing behind you. naked, mind you.
you both stood there for what felt like hours, the water still running down both of your bodies before clark took a deep breath and reached from behind you to turn the water off. you were... conflicted. in a way.
you sat down on the shower floor and pulled your knees up to your chest and stared at an empty spot in front of you, without saying a word as clark slowly sits down next to you, water dripping from the end of his curls as he looks at you.
"...honey? i— i know this is... a lot... to take in... and to be completely honest, this was an accident— i— i didn't want you to find out like th—"
"you're superman." you blurt out without even glancing at him. your knees still pulled up to your chest as water drops rolled down the side of your face.
clark winced before nodding softly, reaching his hand out to rest on your arms that hugged your legs. "i... my glasses. they... alter my face so i'm not recognizable to anyone when they see me with them on..."
you swallowed before speaking again, "is that why you didn't wanna shower with me?"
"...yes."
"and it's not because you didn't like seeing me naked?"
clark furrowed his eyebrows before breaking into a fit of chuckles, "of course not, baby. trust me, i love seeing you naked. i just... i meanobviouslyineedtotakemyglassesoffbeforeshoweringandifididthatthenyouwould findoutimsupermanandipromiseiwantedtotellyoulikeireallywantedtotellyo—"
"clark." you cut off his rambling as you hold your hand up. clark swallowed the lump in his throat as he waited for your next words.
"who else knows?"
clark huffed before thinking in his head. how many people did know?
"well there's obviously ma, and pa, and there's... jimmy, lois—"
your eyes widen as you turn your head to look at him, "lois knows?!"
"she found out on her own! i— i promise i didn't tell her myself!— i mean—i would've but that's not the point—"
"so if she didn't find out herself, you would've told her before me!?"
"no— baby, please... i just... i didn't know how to tell you, okay? i didn't know how you'd react and if you'd... still wanna be with me..." he bit the inside of his lip as he leaned back and rested his head on the tiled wall behind him.
you furrowed your eyebrows at his words and released your knees from your arms as you sat criss cross, as best as you could, in the shower.
"why wouldn't i want to still be with you, clark?"
clark sighed before lifting his head up to stare at the ceiling, "i... i could put you in danger. i— if anyone found out that i was dating you... they could hurt you. and— and i don't want that. i'd never want that... i'd never forgive myself if someone hurt you because of me."
you sighed softly as you stared at him, slowly scooting towards him as he lifted his head from the wall and looked back at you, spreading his legs just a bit to let you rest between them, your back pressed against his chest as he wrapped his arms around you from behind. "i'm not— angry. or scared, clark." you mumbled before lifting your head to look up at him. his blue irises glancing down at you, filled with guilt and regret. he's so pretty...
"just... don't keep anything from me anymore. okay?" you said as you grabbed his hands into yours. and you smiled softly as clark nodded, blinking just a few times before his eyes scanned your face, and leaning down to press a kiss to your lips.
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: sam assures you when you're feeling down!
𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: gn!reader. stanford!sam. established relationship. fluff - hurt/comfort. close proximity, hugging, gentle touches, kisses. use of pet names (honey, pretty).
masterlist ♡ requested
Sam's big hand holding yours is nice.
The warmth of both him walking beside you and the lazy sunlight beaming down from a very merciful January sky is more than soothing. His voice works well, too, shoving aside your gloomy, spinning thoughts as he talks about what he's learned today.
He's going to be a good lawyer. So smart and attentive and seemingly full to the brim with endless motivation, he works through exams quick and papers even faster. He's constantly studying which you like, not only because you're proud of him, but because he always make a date out of it.
It's all so impressive. Sometimes, you feel grossly incomparable.
Today, the walk to his dorm seems to be taking longer than usual and he's begun to shift the conversation. He'd had a nice morning, he says, and received a good grade on a paper along with lovely, complimenting feedback.
You'd been unlucky enough to receive a less than mediocre score on a project. It happens, you know that. But it never seems to happen to Sam, everything comes so easy to him. Fleetingly, you wonder if maybe you're dragging him behind.
Your hand is squeezed, and your boots still. He's tall in front of you now, with his other hand settled atop your shoulder. His gentle, nervous gaze flits over your expression and he leans down so that you'll look at him.
"Honey," he calls. "Lost you for a minute."
You blink and take a short moment to look around campus. You take in the buzzing sunlight and the cool breeze, the old oak looming above you, along with your gentle boyfriend before murmuring, "Oh. M'sorry, Sam."
His head shakes, hand sweeping down your bicep. "It's alright, hon. You feeling okay?"
You hum. "I'm fine. I'm glad you did good on your paper, Sammy."
He smiles something lovely, but his brows remain all pinched. You'd like to kiss away the furrow and assure him that you're fine, really, you've just had a disappointing morning. But you don't get to before he's speaking again.
"Tell me about your day, pretty," he coaxes. "I wanna hear."
You're aware that he knows something is off with you, because he doesn't move from this spot. He's not buying any excuses, never does. His attentiveness isn't only brought out by his classes, it targets you even more so. You adore him all the more for it.
"It was okay," you offer. "I just... got a shitty grade, is all. How are you so smart, Sam?"
He doesn't quite like the sighing sound of your voice, the insecurity and disappointment there. It all makes his chest pang painfully and he gives your knuckles a tender tap with his thumb.
"That's okay," he soothes. "It happens, pretty. What d'you mean?"
You shrug at him. "You're always doing so good with your courses, and- and you know everything, Sam, you're so smart. I'm not like that."
"Hey, no," he protests, voicing firm words sweetly. "You're so smart, honey, don't compare yourself."
"It takes me so much longer to understand, Sam-"
"That doesn't matter," he insists. "You think that makes you any less capable than me? It doesn't. You impress me everyday. You're focused and passionate and you try so hard, even when you don't want to."
Your heart swells whilst Sam keeps on going.
"You do so good, you're more than smart, honey. Please don't say you aren't, okay? It's not true."
For the first time today, you smile bright, feeling soothed and loved and appreciated. He seems to notice all of this and brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a flurry of soft kisses to your heated palm.
"Got it?" He asks to be positive.
"Got it, Sammy."
He makes sure your smile sticks for the rest of the day.
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: You're a sex-deprived, part-time employee at a local sex-toy store in Metropolis. It's a life you'd grown to predict all possibilities of — one that you hadn't, was a six-foot-four curious journalist he wanders in.
𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆/𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐘: Explicit / F!Reader
𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: smut, pwp, sex toy store!clerk reader, forward!reader, exhibitionism, f!receiving oral, cunnilingus, munch!clark, buttplugs, sex toys, comedy, size kink
𝐖/𝐂: 2.5k
Your pussy ached.
There was just no polite way of putting it. Shelves with nothing but vibrators and dildos, in oh-so many shapes and sizes, towered around you. It wasn't exactly an orgasmic environment — in fact, it was the opposite, reminding you that 40% off all goods couldn't replace the touch of an actual person.
Despite that, the pay was decent, and you could choose your shifts. So you justified overlooking the loneliness that threatened to spill — at the very least, entertainment was abundant, like the awkward, virginal couples currently fumbling around at the fantasy dildo aisles.
You attempted to give those a shot, but it didn't really pan out.
Some days, there'd be the sort who'd surprise you. (Nipple clamps for grandpa weren't something one could easily forget.)
And then there'd be pervs. Most of which probably got off to the idea of buying them alone, but weren't all that bad; you'd scored a magic wand. And a sailor-moon butt-plug from their offerings, which just so happened to be sitting nice and snug in you.
There wasn't a reason for that. Other than boredom, really, now and then you'd squirm, lean against one side, chasing every rousing sensation you could until you got off your shift to …well…get off.
Though weekly, you'd begin noticing something rather peculiar. A figure at the storefront, with his palms cupped over his forehead in a lousy attempt to peek.
He never came in, only loitered until someone would push the doors open, with loud chimes that would announce your existence & deter any weak-hearted sap. Like clockwork, four-eyes would immediately twirl and walk off like he wasn't just boring holes into the store.
"…Weirdo. S'a two-way mirror."
You're unfocused, picking at your already chipping polish. Ringing up all sorts of things with the most deadpanned expression and a phoney 'thank you, come again!'
The shift goes by mostly uneventfully.
It'd significantly grown darker outside, save for the flickering street lamps illuminating the streets. You had an hour till closing. With your arms full of bullet vibrators, you unsteadily climb up the aged ladder.
You've sufficiently worked yourself up by now. Fidgeting in your stance on the elevated space, pushing the older stock to the front.
When did your life turn to this, anyway?
The deep sigh you exhale covers up the subtle crack at the front door. Normally, that ding would've warned you of incoming customers.
Normally.
"Excuse me?"
You jump.
"What the fuck!"
"Oh geez-us." Clark jerks harder when a box is careened at him, grabbing at it instinctively. He glances down and coughs at the rather explicit verbs splayed in bold on it.
"Uh. Your…vibrator…"
Your heart's still racing, staring at the intruder, eyes softening significantly in recognition. Shit? Four-eyes actually came in.
He holds out the brightly coloured box for you, which you snatch away a little rougher than intended with your surprise. "Th-Thank you."
"No problem. Um. Can I…look around?"
"Mhm." You push the last one in place onto the shelves. "We close at 10. So, take your…time." (Which, really, was a passive threat to get out in five minutes so you could zone out until closing.)
Clark's shuffling away before you get to the end of the sentence. Clutching tightly onto the straps of his messenger bag, while his broader shoulders bumped into products as he passed. You peek at him through your peripherals, at the dildos he'd knocked over, clumsily arranging them back.
"What a nerd…" You murmur, and despite yourself, the corner of your lips quirk upward in intrigue.
You've finished tidying the store by now, with Clark wandering around still, pretending to browse in the aisles. It was obvious he had no idea what he was looking for. You're watching him openly, all leaned up against the cashier counter.
He glances over every now and then with a guilty look.
After a minute of silence, he speaks up with a clear of his throat. "Do people…uh. Normally know what they're looking for when they come in?"
You perk up. Huh. His voice was much deeper than earlier. It was kind of…hot.
"…Some do," you begin, "some pretend they do."
He gulps. "Right."
"I can help." You finally offer to his relief, walking over to him with your palms pressed behind your back. It lands on the shelf he was before, the full range of sex-toys. "Looking for anything specific?"
A pause. Standing this close to him had you realising just how much bigger he was. Not just tall, he'd just made the entire aisle feel narrow. "…for yourself, or?…"
Clark looks over at you, then sputters, "No! No — not…yes. For someone."
"Else." He emphasises, rubbing his quickly reddening neck. You clock it instantly, gaze, then flicking to his hands. They follow the manner in which his knuckles graze the display pieces. The length of his hand dwarfs the entirety of the silicone.
You swallow.
White button-down, messenger bag. Nerdy glasses…polite. Massive. He was your type.
"What did you have in mind?"
"Um..." He starts, shifting closer. You stifle a gasp when his arms stretch over your line of sight. Like an idiot, you inhale. The lingering scent of his ocean-like softener takes you immediately, mixed with a calming sandalwood that you could pleasantly taste on your tongue. You slyly eye the way the folded white rolls up his forearms, revealing the extent of veins — to the way it visibly tightens by the biceps, which were…holy shit. Nearly the size of your head.
Clark interrupts your thoughts once more when he holds a box out for you. "Something like…this?"
"Mm," you hum, attempting to buy yourself some time at his less-than-modest selection. It stirrs a whole string of unwanted thoughts. "This one's new. A little hardcore if it's your first time, though."
Clark blinks, steam practically coming out of his ears at the rate of your blasé observations. "I don't really need…it too hardcore."
"You can go with the more traditional stuff then. Lots of sizes for it too, depth-wise." Clark's following behind you as you redirect him to the rather colourful aisle of pocket pussies. "Have someone you fancy or anything. I could suggest one that would be accurate based on her height." You joke.
Internally, you cringe. Because what sort of small-talk was that?
His hand lifts instinctively, stopping shy of you as he gestures. The motion highlights you perfectly — exactly your height and build.
"Um. About yay…tall? Sort of…exactly your height and build." You blink at him, and he slaps his hand over his face in the wake of your prolonged silence. "A joke. Funny. Very funny."
"Haha."
You're able to see the growing redness at the back of his neck. For some reason, you weren't really put off by it.
So the guy was attractive, with shoulders like a linebacker. Admittedly geeky looking, but…
You shift on your heel, head tilted as you tap on one of the display cases.
He'd do.
"This one. If she's anything like me, this'll be pretty…uh. Accurate." You add in a suggestive lilt, with a quick glance downward. Slowly dragging your gaze up his body.
Clark's visibly breathing a little laboured. Dumbly trailing behind you when you take the box with you to checkout. As though you'd already decided for him.
"First time in a store like this?"
"Ah…mhm."
You've noticed that he's stopped, looking over at a mounted case. Unwittingly, you twitch when you take a quick scan through the array of silicone and stainless steel plugs. "Interested?"
Clark shakes his head quickly, scratching the sides of his jaw. "Not on myself, no."
W-o-w.
"On other people, then?"
He takes a moment, then nods in a show of courage.
You fully smile, patting him on his arm, a gesture which instantly makes you feel warm all over at the feel of his muscles.
"I'd definitely recommend it for your girl."
Clark's gaze follows your retreating silhouette, watching you set down the massager you'd picked out for him at checkout.
"You've tried?"
"Mm—hm. If she's into it. Even when she's not, it's worth a try."
"I-I see. It's not uncomfortable?"
You pause to think, "well…I guess there's no need for formalities. I'm wearing one now. I'd say it's pretty comfortable. Pop it in the whole day, and if you reaaaaallly feel frisk,y you could do anal without the trouble."
Clark doesn't answer. Not verbally anyway. You whip around at the clatter behind you, where he'd knocked down an entire display of edible balls-gags.
"S-Shoot, I'm…so..so sorry."
"Jesus…for a big guy. You're real clumsy. It's fine. I got it."
You bend a knee, grabbing the boxes closer to you. Within your eyeline, you can see his oxfords tapping onto the tiled floors incessantly. Like a nervous tic.
"I usually am just — when you said…" He mumbles, greedily looking over at your smaller form. Hips bent a tad to retrieve the fallen merchandise.
"That you were…"
I could see that you weren't exactly joking.
Was what he wanted to say. But wasn't really an acceptable form of banter. You shift to face him, eyeing the thudding brown. Before you can think it through, your palms cup over the toe of his oxfords. Stopping the taps cold.
Clark's breath stutters as he lowers his head, meeting your gaze past the thick, black frames.
"Kind of making the floor shake." You murmur, blinking through your lashes. And when you see that his gaze drops down to your lips. You wet them.
The fabric right in front of your face twitches & tents slightly. He jerks at the sound of boxes clattering, as you make no attempt to pick up the discarded ones from earlier.
You stop by the cashier counter, the back of your hips pressed up against the hardwood.
"Curious?"
He nods.
A smile curls at the corner of your lips, turning without elaboration. Bending at the waist, the best you could do with your elbows pressed atop. Clark gulps at your offering. Unbeknownst to you, he was absolutely transfixed by the metallic crescent moon, delectably stuffed in you.
For a moment, you look over your shoulder at the sudden breeze that picked up, only to be swallowed by Clark's shadow. Shivers involuntarily trail down your spine when his palm cases the countertops, right next to your elbows.
"Is…this a joke? Are you for real?
A humourless laugh escapes you, and you shift a tad, met with the stiffened wall behind, which certaintly weren't one of the store's support beams. It should worry you that you could not feel the end of his dick just by the testing grind you give.
"Is that for real?"
"Ah…it's. Well. Average-ish."
Generous.
Your clothes are kicked into a neat little pile beside your feet, in nothing but your leggings. Cheekily, you cross your ankles, tapping your heels impatiently. Clark's palms rests heavy onto the softer flesh.
"And you've had this in you all day?"
He'd been doing just that. Kneading, squeezing your ass for the better half of five minutes. You've grown antsy, at every drag of his padded thumb across lace, the crescent shifts, deeper into you.
"Mm—hm…"
Clark's knuckles drag over the exposed lace, having left nothing to imagination. He tugs at the white lace leggings, the only thing separating him from seeing the accumulation of slick between your thighs.
"Oh…gosh…"
Your teeth catch your lower lip the second you feel your inner thighs hit the colder air. Cotton half pulled down to your leggings.
"This is…" He's murmuring to himself, thumb skirting around the twitching silver. When his knuckles nudge at it, you brokenly let out a gasp. "S'pretty..."
Clark reels back, the wide expanse of his thumb grazes the jewel. Thighs quivering at every nudge of it.
"…May I?"
You stretch your arms further out across the surface, allowing yourself to bend your hip upwards wordlessly.
It comes without warning.
His nose grazes your inner thighs, testing. You don't register the fact that Clark's dropped down to his knees just yet — until you feel the gentle press of his lips, trailing upward.
"!…When did you get — hhhht!"
The first suck knocks the breath out of you.
Clark isn't shy about being decent. Clearly. His flattened tongue dips into your core, dragging it up toward the silvered plug. You squirm, restless and unable to keep your thighs still. But he holds you in place, rotating and twisting the crescent.
Instinctively, your puckered hole sucks back the silver when he tugs at it. The sensations were far too much, especially with the way his tongue zig-zagged, drinking in the sticky, honeyed slick you were abundant with.
Your hips tip back insistently, softer, whines growing much louder as you occasionally feel the bump of the thick, plasticky frames of his glasses. "Mmn. Take — it out!"
Clark hums lowly into you. Dragging is thumb from the base of your folds to your clit. You grind backwards into his face, the gentle slope of his nose snug in your folds. You weren't sure just how he was able to keep at it, without pulling out, relentless driving his tongue into your tight, cunt.
"Pl—ease!"
You groan, louder at the teasing thrusts of the plug, before the clatter registers in your senses. Clark pulls back to sit on his thighs. Expression almost twisted — in awe and fascination at the sight of your pretty, puckered hole, pulsing around nothing.
"Better than'…I'd ever imagined." It's a half-murmured thought at best, all while he presses at his hard-on for some relief.
Clark shifts back, glasses fogged and crooked, the expanse of his wider mouth suckling at your folds, before he drags the wetness upward to the tighter hole. You whine when his tongue probes, replacing the stiffness that kept your company for hours.
"Oh! Fuck —…fuck. Like tha—hhht…." You encourage, eyes rolled back from the firm thrust of his tongue into the tighter hole, which only pulses and sucks him further in.
Your hand blindly snaps backwards, uncaring of how tightly the digits wrap around his curls. Tugging as you thrust back to his movements. He takes it all in, rubbing your soaked pussy with his palm, and up to your clit.
He grunts hard into your ass when you use him, to your liking. Guiding the pace until you're finally tapping at his shoulders as best as you can.
"S-Shit. Shit. Think—…mm'gonna…cum!" You squeak, thighs quivering from the buildup.
Clark doesn't stop. His palm simulating your clit in the same manner, all while he shakes his head, coaxing and relaxing your tight, puckered walls until you've finally slumped, boneless, onto the countertops.
You're panting, heavily in the wake of your orgasm, a hesitant whimper escaping at the poke of his still stiff hard-on, soaked from his own cum on the flesh of your ass.
Hazily, you glance over at the dull thud next to your cheeks. Clark leans down, and you feel his palm — faintly smelling of ripened fruit- cradle your cheeks. Directing your gaze toward the very toy you'd suggested for him earlier. He leans down, whispering next to your flushed, sweat-slick face.
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: You're a sex-deprived, part-time employee at a local sex-toy store in Metropolis. It's a life you'd grown to predict all possibilities of — one that you hadn't, was a six-foot-four curious journalist he wanders in.
𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆/𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐘: Explicit / F!Reader
𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: smut, pwp, sex toy store!clerk reader, forward!reader, exhibitionism, f!receiving oral, cunnilingus, munch!clark, buttplugs, sex toys, comedy, size kink
𝐖/𝐂: 2.5k
Your pussy ached.
There was just no polite way of putting it. Shelves with nothing but vibrators and dildos, in oh-so many shapes and sizes, towered around you. It wasn't exactly an orgasmic environment — in fact, it was the opposite, reminding you that 40% off all goods couldn't replace the touch of an actual person.
Despite that, the pay was decent, and you could choose your shifts. So you justified overlooking the loneliness that threatened to spill — at the very least, entertainment was abundant, like the awkward, virginal couples currently fumbling around at the fantasy dildo aisles.
You attempted to give those a shot, but it didn't really pan out.
Some days, there'd be the sort who'd surprise you. (Nipple clamps for grandpa weren't something one could easily forget.)
And then there'd be pervs. Most of which probably got off to the idea of buying them alone, but weren't all that bad; you'd scored a magic wand. And a sailor-moon butt-plug from their offerings, which just so happened to be sitting nice and snug in you.
There wasn't a reason for that. Other than boredom, really, now and then you'd squirm, lean against one side, chasing every rousing sensation you could until you got off your shift to …well…get off.
Though weekly, you'd begin noticing something rather peculiar. A figure at the storefront, with his palms cupped over his forehead in a lousy attempt to peek.
He never came in, only loitered until someone would push the doors open, with loud chimes that would announce your existence & deter any weak-hearted sap. Like clockwork, four-eyes would immediately twirl and walk off like he wasn't just boring holes into the store.
"…Weirdo. S'a two-way mirror."
You're unfocused, picking at your already chipping polish. Ringing up all sorts of things with the most deadpanned expression and a phoney 'thank you, come again!'
The shift goes by mostly uneventfully.
It'd significantly grown darker outside, save for the flickering street lamps illuminating the streets. You had an hour till closing. With your arms full of bullet vibrators, you unsteadily climb up the aged ladder.
You've sufficiently worked yourself up by now. Fidgeting in your stance on the elevated space, pushing the older stock to the front.
When did your life turn to this, anyway?
The deep sigh you exhale covers up the subtle crack at the front door. Normally, that ding would've warned you of incoming customers.
Normally.
"Excuse me?"
You jump.
"What the fuck!"
"Oh geez-us." Clark jerks harder when a box is careened at him, grabbing at it instinctively. He glances down and coughs at the rather explicit verbs splayed in bold on it.
"Uh. Your…vibrator…"
Your heart's still racing, staring at the intruder, eyes softening significantly in recognition. Shit? Four-eyes actually came in.
He holds out the brightly coloured box for you, which you snatch away a little rougher than intended with your surprise. "Th-Thank you."
"No problem. Um. Can I…look around?"
"Mhm." You push the last one in place onto the shelves. "We close at 10. So, take your…time." (Which, really, was a passive threat to get out in five minutes so you could zone out until closing.)
Clark's shuffling away before you get to the end of the sentence. Clutching tightly onto the straps of his messenger bag, while his broader shoulders bumped into products as he passed. You peek at him through your peripherals, at the dildos he'd knocked over, clumsily arranging them back.
"What a nerd…" You murmur, and despite yourself, the corner of your lips quirk upward in intrigue.
You've finished tidying the store by now, with Clark wandering around still, pretending to browse in the aisles. It was obvious he had no idea what he was looking for. You're watching him openly, all leaned up against the cashier counter.
He glances over every now and then with a guilty look.
After a minute of silence, he speaks up with a clear of his throat. "Do people…uh. Normally know what they're looking for when they come in?"
You perk up. Huh. His voice was much deeper than earlier. It was kind of…hot.
"…Some do," you begin, "some pretend they do."
He gulps. "Right."
"I can help." You finally offer to his relief, walking over to him with your palms pressed behind your back. It lands on the shelf he was before, the full range of sex-toys. "Looking for anything specific?"
A pause. Standing this close to him had you realising just how much bigger he was. Not just tall, he'd just made the entire aisle feel narrow. "…for yourself, or?…"
Clark looks over at you, then sputters, "No! No — not…yes. For someone."
"Else." He emphasises, rubbing his quickly reddening neck. You clock it instantly, gaze, then flicking to his hands. They follow the manner in which his knuckles graze the display pieces. The length of his hand dwarfs the entirety of the silicone.
You swallow.
White button-down, messenger bag. Nerdy glasses…polite. Massive. He was your type.
"What did you have in mind?"
"Um..." He starts, shifting closer. You stifle a gasp when his arms stretch over your line of sight. Like an idiot, you inhale. The lingering scent of his ocean-like softener takes you immediately, mixed with a calming sandalwood that you could pleasantly taste on your tongue. You slyly eye the way the folded white rolls up his forearms, revealing the extent of veins — to the way it visibly tightens by the biceps, which were…holy shit. Nearly the size of your head.
Clark interrupts your thoughts once more when he holds a box out for you. "Something like…this?"
"Mm," you hum, attempting to buy yourself some time at his less-than-modest selection. It stirrs a whole string of unwanted thoughts. "This one's new. A little hardcore if it's your first time, though."
Clark blinks, steam practically coming out of his ears at the rate of your blasé observations. "I don't really need…it too hardcore."
"You can go with the more traditional stuff then. Lots of sizes for it too, depth-wise." Clark's following behind you as you redirect him to the rather colourful aisle of pocket pussies. "Have someone you fancy or anything. I could suggest one that would be accurate based on her height." You joke.
Internally, you cringe. Because what sort of small-talk was that?
His hand lifts instinctively, stopping shy of you as he gestures. The motion highlights you perfectly — exactly your height and build.
"Um. About yay…tall? Sort of…exactly your height and build." You blink at him, and he slaps his hand over his face in the wake of your prolonged silence. "A joke. Funny. Very funny."
"Haha."
You're able to see the growing redness at the back of his neck. For some reason, you weren't really put off by it.
So the guy was attractive, with shoulders like a linebacker. Admittedly geeky looking, but…
You shift on your heel, head tilted as you tap on one of the display cases.
He'd do.
"This one. If she's anything like me, this'll be pretty…uh. Accurate." You add in a suggestive lilt, with a quick glance downward. Slowly dragging your gaze up his body.
Clark's visibly breathing a little laboured. Dumbly trailing behind you when you take the box with you to checkout. As though you'd already decided for him.
"First time in a store like this?"
"Ah…mhm."
You've noticed that he's stopped, looking over at a mounted case. Unwittingly, you twitch when you take a quick scan through the array of silicone and stainless steel plugs. "Interested?"
Clark shakes his head quickly, scratching the sides of his jaw. "Not on myself, no."
W-o-w.
"On other people, then?"
He takes a moment, then nods in a show of courage.
You fully smile, patting him on his arm, a gesture which instantly makes you feel warm all over at the feel of his muscles.
"I'd definitely recommend it for your girl."
Clark's gaze follows your retreating silhouette, watching you set down the massager you'd picked out for him at checkout.
"You've tried?"
"Mm—hm. If she's into it. Even when she's not, it's worth a try."
"I-I see. It's not uncomfortable?"
You pause to think, "well…I guess there's no need for formalities. I'm wearing one now. I'd say it's pretty comfortable. Pop it in the whole day, and if you reaaaaallly feel frisk,y you could do anal without the trouble."
Clark doesn't answer. Not verbally anyway. You whip around at the clatter behind you, where he'd knocked down an entire display of edible balls-gags.
"S-Shoot, I'm…so..so sorry."
"Jesus…for a big guy. You're real clumsy. It's fine. I got it."
You bend a knee, grabbing the boxes closer to you. Within your eyeline, you can see his oxfords tapping onto the tiled floors incessantly. Like a nervous tic.
"I usually am just — when you said…" He mumbles, greedily looking over at your smaller form. Hips bent a tad to retrieve the fallen merchandise.
"That you were…"
I could see that you weren't exactly joking.
Was what he wanted to say. But wasn't really an acceptable form of banter. You shift to face him, eyeing the thudding brown. Before you can think it through, your palms cup over the toe of his oxfords. Stopping the taps cold.
Clark's breath stutters as he lowers his head, meeting your gaze past the thick, black frames.
"Kind of making the floor shake." You murmur, blinking through your lashes. And when you see that his gaze drops down to your lips. You wet them.
The fabric right in front of your face twitches & tents slightly. He jerks at the sound of boxes clattering, as you make no attempt to pick up the discarded ones from earlier.
You stop by the cashier counter, the back of your hips pressed up against the hardwood.
"Curious?"
He nods.
A smile curls at the corner of your lips, turning without elaboration. Bending at the waist, the best you could do with your elbows pressed atop. Clark gulps at your offering. Unbeknownst to you, he was absolutely transfixed by the metallic crescent moon, delectably stuffed in you.
For a moment, you look over your shoulder at the sudden breeze that picked up, only to be swallowed by Clark's shadow. Shivers involuntarily trail down your spine when his palm cases the countertops, right next to your elbows.
"Is…this a joke? Are you for real?
A humourless laugh escapes you, and you shift a tad, met with the stiffened wall behind, which certaintly weren't one of the store's support beams. It should worry you that you could not feel the end of his dick just by the testing grind you give.
"Is that for real?"
"Ah…it's. Well. Average-ish."
Generous.
Your clothes are kicked into a neat little pile beside your feet, in nothing but your leggings. Cheekily, you cross your ankles, tapping your heels impatiently. Clark's palms rests heavy onto the softer flesh.
"And you've had this in you all day?"
He'd been doing just that. Kneading, squeezing your ass for the better half of five minutes. You've grown antsy, at every drag of his padded thumb across lace, the crescent shifts, deeper into you.
"Mm—hm…"
Clark's knuckles drag over the exposed lace, having left nothing to imagination. He tugs at the white lace leggings, the only thing separating him from seeing the accumulation of slick between your thighs.
"Oh…gosh…"
Your teeth catch your lower lip the second you feel your inner thighs hit the colder air. Cotton half pulled down to your leggings.
"This is…" He's murmuring to himself, thumb skirting around the twitching silver. When his knuckles nudge at it, you brokenly let out a gasp. "S'pretty..."
Clark reels back, the wide expanse of his thumb grazes the jewel. Thighs quivering at every nudge of it.
"…May I?"
You stretch your arms further out across the surface, allowing yourself to bend your hip upwards wordlessly.
It comes without warning.
His nose grazes your inner thighs, testing. You don't register the fact that Clark's dropped down to his knees just yet — until you feel the gentle press of his lips, trailing upward.
"!…When did you get — hhhht!"
The first suck knocks the breath out of you.
Clark isn't shy about being decent. Clearly. His flattened tongue dips into your core, dragging it up toward the silvered plug. You squirm, restless and unable to keep your thighs still. But he holds you in place, rotating and twisting the crescent.
Instinctively, your puckered hole sucks back the silver when he tugs at it. The sensations were far too much, especially with the way his tongue zig-zagged, drinking in the sticky, honeyed slick you were abundant with.
Your hips tip back insistently, softer, whines growing much louder as you occasionally feel the bump of the thick, plasticky frames of his glasses. "Mmn. Take — it out!"
Clark hums lowly into you. Dragging is thumb from the base of your folds to your clit. You grind backwards into his face, the gentle slope of his nose snug in your folds. You weren't sure just how he was able to keep at it, without pulling out, relentless driving his tongue into your tight, cunt.
"Pl—ease!"
You groan, louder at the teasing thrusts of the plug, before the clatter registers in your senses. Clark pulls back to sit on his thighs. Expression almost twisted — in awe and fascination at the sight of your pretty, puckered hole, pulsing around nothing.
"Better than'…I'd ever imagined." It's a half-murmured thought at best, all while he presses at his hard-on for some relief.
Clark shifts back, glasses fogged and crooked, the expanse of his wider mouth suckling at your folds, before he drags the wetness upward to the tighter hole. You whine when his tongue probes, replacing the stiffness that kept your company for hours.
"Oh! Fuck —…fuck. Like tha—hhht…." You encourage, eyes rolled back from the firm thrust of his tongue into the tighter hole, which only pulses and sucks him further in.
Your hand blindly snaps backwards, uncaring of how tightly the digits wrap around his curls. Tugging as you thrust back to his movements. He takes it all in, rubbing your soaked pussy with his palm, and up to your clit.
He grunts hard into your ass when you use him, to your liking. Guiding the pace until you're finally tapping at his shoulders as best as you can.
"S-Shit. Shit. Think—…mm'gonna…cum!" You squeak, thighs quivering from the buildup.
Clark doesn't stop. His palm simulating your clit in the same manner, all while he shakes his head, coaxing and relaxing your tight, puckered walls until you've finally slumped, boneless, onto the countertops.
You're panting, heavily in the wake of your orgasm, a hesitant whimper escaping at the poke of his still stiff hard-on, soaked from his own cum on the flesh of your ass.
Hazily, you glance over at the dull thud next to your cheeks. Clark leans down, and you feel his palm — faintly smelling of ripened fruit- cradle your cheeks. Directing your gaze toward the very toy you'd suggested for him earlier. He leans down, whispering next to your flushed, sweat-slick face.
