see i kinda agree with that comment saying jobe seems more likely to date black girls than his brother, but there’s nothing these black athletes love more than a white/racially ambiguous woman 😭😭
like id be a little disappointed but not surprised if he pops out with a non blk girl bc ill never put my faith in a man
oh yeah the white gf x athlete thing OMDS UGH, if Jobe pop out with a white girl, i'll give up on football all together. WATCH ME. I know i know it's his choice, yababababa STILL FAM.
Where all the dominant y/n fics???? I'm tired of not f*cking back, being weak, being a "good girl" and "a pretty princess". Sure, that's all fine and dandy and hot and stuff. But where are the dominant y/n fics? Reader on top, choking him, making him whimper and cry out? Let me call him "my sweet boy". Where's the variation in kinks? C'mon now, I wanna be strong, too.
you, a humble casino worker, find yourself obsessed with a loyal customer: toji fushiguro. does he have a gambling addiction? well, yes! but he brings in good money, so that's unimportant. his unwavering attraction to you may have something to do with supplying him endless drinks, or maybe it's the skimpy bunny suit you prance around in. whatever it is, he knows he can't get enough of you. | 3.5k wc mdni
cw: smut, unprotected sex (don't do that!), creampie (he doesn't ask to creampie, but as the author i've decided it's consensual), oral (f receiving), regular missionary, toji's a dick (like always), he's a bum, use of nicknames (sweetcheeks, doll), reader wears a bunny suit for work, poorly used gambling terms, rushed, not proofread
regrets. failure. nauseating offal from some health code-violation of a corner stall.
that's what toji smells like the first time you see him at the casino. he's perched at some slot machine, clearly losing, hollering at the mass of metal like it'll respond.
having the bouncers kick him out for disrupting other's games crosses your mind a few times, you'll admit. that idea is quickly wiped when he shouts at you, beckoning you over.
"my machine won't work," he growls, virgin margarita sloshing in his hand and staining his already beat up shirt.
the blinking sign that clearly states "NO DRINKS IN GAMING AREA" is staring right at his chiseled, hunky body.
he's lucky he has a handsome face. it's the only good thing about him.
strutting towards him, your heels dig into the red carpet of the casino. "um, you can't have that in the gaming area, sir-" he swivels around in his chair as his muscled back faces you again. he even rolls his eyes! he's already ignoring you, refusing to follow rules, what a total douchebag.
'how rude!' you think. groaning, you try again. "sir, are you gonna put that down?" "i will," he says, smirking, "if you give me your number."
first impressions clearly aren't his strong suit.
after that, you do your best to avoid him. it proves to be harder than expected when he comes in every friday night, sometimes with random women. he's always requesting your company, assistance, anything that has your name in it.
he's known as 'brokie,' 'sugarbaby,' or even 'guy with the bad temper' among your coworkers. no one knows his name. he always puts 'shiu' on his tab, although it appears he also has a friend named shiu.
there's a persistent, almost magnetic pull about him. he's weird, broke, and can't pay for his own drinks, yet you catch yourself staring at him.
the mystery man takes a liking to you, as do most of the men at your job. without fail, he always calls you over to fix his slot machine every time it's "broken."
it's getting to the point that it has to be on purpose; you've caught him stomping across the entire casino just to be next to you when he calls for help.
"what is it this time, sir?" you drawl, not bothering to hide the irritation in your voice. there's an ancient looking guy coughing up a lung in the corner, perfect target for extra tips. you'd almost rather see him than the dark haired man in front of you.
"the slot isn't spinning. this one's stuck, y' see?" he leans in close, thick bicep grazing your face just a little. the chair creaks under his weight, leaning to the side as he grows closer to you.
the slot is obviously working. you watched him spin it (and not win anything) not even a minute ago. you still go along with him, no matter how bad he is at pretending.
there's zero reason for him to be so close, for his breath to fan so warm against your neck it gives you goosebumps, but since it's him, it's tolerable. enjoyable, even. if this wasn't the 5th time he's done this, you'd be calling security.
he watches in awe filled lust as you bend down for him, latex bunny suit shifting just enough he can see even more of your luscious ass. opening the crusty machine, anyone can tell there's absolutely nothing wrong with it.
yet you're still bent over, ass high in the air as you pretend to look for a nonexistent problem. "right there," he mutters, acting like he's talking about a wire and not the angle of your ass.
you know he's staring. always have. his eyes burn holes straight through you, there's no need to turn around and check.
once carpet burn begins to settle in, you finally get up, patting your hands together as if you did anything. "well, there's no issue. if you need anything, just call me. i'll be at the bar."
"will do, sweet cheeks." he grins, tongue darting out to lick his scar once you've turned around.
that's how friday nights with toji always go, until you're promoted.
bartending has its perks. you get paid more, and it's easier than walking 6 miles worth of carpet in heels. another perk (if you could even call it one) is your very best customer following you to the bar.
he doesn't drink, only orders virgin mimosas or margaritas and soda. it's a little embarrassing when he clears out the whole shelf, filling his tab up like a glass. maybe that's how you've finally learned his name.
"it's toji," he says quietly, almost as if he'd rather not be speaking.
"thought your name would be more interesting for a guy that never tells it." he rolls his eyes, but the twinkle in them tells you he thought your jab funny.
"what?" you giggle, "am i wrong?"
he scoffs in reply. "i thought you'd be a lot nicer."
thankfully, he doesn't see your eyes rolling over the rim of his glass, currently taking a huge gulp.
"i never said i was nice."
"clearly."
"why do you hide your name, anyway?"
"i'm a bit, known, as some would say." now it's your turn to laugh.
"known how? you're a classic gambling addict. there's nothing to know about that."
"rude," he huffs, breath smelling like sugar and fruit punch. "i've got bills to pay, debt due, baby mamas."
"what was that last part?"
"nothing, nothing," he says, hand waving your confusion away.
for a minute, neither of you talk. the exciting buzz of chatter and dice clinking against fill the silence. you're the one to break it.
"i would say to stop gambling to save money, but i like you too much, so i won't." the grin on your face is clumsy and wide, happy to be talking with your top customer.
"thanks, doll."
doll. the nickname he's taken to calling you for the past week or so. it always makes your heart go fuzzy, makes you forget that you're at work wiping down counters and not giggling to your friends about the cute guy at work.
chatting with him turns into flirting, to confessions, to things that definitely shouldn't be said in public.
out of the blue, he says "i'd use those ears as handlebars. bend you over so good you'll be seeing stars."
the ears he's referring to are your bunny ears, perched high on your head as the final part of your bunny suit.
flush covers you like a second skin, onlookers side-eyeing in second-hand embarrassment. "shh, toji! there's people around!"
"you weren't sayin' that when i asked if your tail is a butt p-" a shot glass shattering onto the floor thankfully saved you from whatever hellish ignominy was coming your way. satisfied with your shame, he saunters away back to the main floor.
"i hope you lose all your money, bastard," you mumble, barely out of earshot.
toji does not lose all his money. in fact, he more than quadruples his money, making over $1,000.
never did you-nor anyone else, for that matter- expect the bummiest guy of all time to win poker. you have to drag him away from the table before he bets all his money away.
"see that, sweetcheeks? told ya i'd win one day." his arm is curled around you like a sloth, only if sloths were humongous and smelled faintly of axe body spray.
he makes eye contact with every guy at the table, treating you like a prize as if they aren't all plotting to jump him this very moment.
"yes, yes, toji. very good job." the adorable pout on your lips makes your indifference somewhat bearable.
"i get the feeling you're not proud for me," he huffs. "not when you bet your rent money!" in a once-in-a-lifetime moment, he blushes, ears tinging cherry red. "how did you know that?"
when a man like him walks in a casino the way he does, you know his ass doesn't have any money. by the way he complains about paying child support-that's less than $200 a month, mind you- there's no way he's gambling responsibly.
when he does manage to make you see red, it's always for something he knows he shouldn't do.
"how can you expect me to take you seriously if you do dumb shit like this?" for the first time in your life, excluding the first time you met him, you're genuinely angry at him.
"look, i can make it up to you, promise!"
"and how do you expect to do that?" you sigh, crossing your arms together.
"i can pay you back in dick," he says, completely serious. maybe not completely, because his lips are curling into that iconic smirk.
"toji! this is serious!"
"what? that's the only thing i got."
"well, think of something better." he's silent for a while, still grinning as he's lost in what seems to be thought.
"a massage... and dick?" well, at least he tried.
throwing in the towel, you decide to let this go. you've always known he was a bum. there's no point in acting like that's new.
"fine. but this is never happening again, you hear me?"
he puts his hands up in defense of himself, scoffing at your cute anger. "yes, i understand. now," he says, bending down to your ear, "why don't we go back to my place?"
toji's hands on your hips, gripping them like they belong to him, almost makes up for him driving you home in a dump of a car.
"this thing sounds like it'll explode any second now," you told him, holding onto the grab handles for dear life.
they were falling off the hinges, desperate for a repair. not like he could ever afford one, though.
you're not able to think of any of those things now, not when he's pushing you towards his bedroom, kicking the door open like it's nothing.
the wind is knocked out of you when he throws you on the bed, comforter bracing your landing. within seconds, he's on top of you, muscled arms caging you against the sheets.
"fuck, you look pretty under me." he wastes no time in ridding you of your suit. starting at your sternum, his nose drags down your body, inhaling every inch of it like perfume. "you smell so fuckin' good," he groans, eyes lulling upwards.
by time he gets to your crotch, he's already making out with the thin latex covering it. you're awoken from your trance of pleasure by a loud riiiip!
"toji! what was that?!" you look down to see your uniform, your fishnets ripped clean in half. "those are my work tights!"
"sorry," he mutters, barely listening. he's too busy pulling your panties to the side, trying to get the next peek of your skin. "you better pay for that," you grumble.
"no can do, sweets. 'm not getting paid again till next week." he ignores the curse you make at him.
you're shut up quick by his breath on your pussy, fanning the already wet heat. with a hiss, your legs squeeze a little.
"c'mon, open up for me," he says, punctuated by a long, slow lick up the length of your core.
his tongue is so wide and flat it spreads your lips completely. eyes never leaving yours, he stops to kiss your clit, surprisingly tender.
as quickly as it came, the warm behavior goes by. he sucks your clit into his mouth. hard.
he doesn't let go, especially not when you start squirming. his nails leave crescent shaped divots in your thighs, clenching them so you can't escape.
you're embarrassed to be folding so quickly, to be pushing your hips back against the sheets.
he takes delight in your submission, a rumbling chuckle going straight through your clit. the vibrations are delicious, makes the nerves light up in pleasure. again, he licks you out, this time stopping to suck the slick dripping out of your hole.
"so fuckin' wet f' me, huh?" he says, mumbling into your cunt. it's more of a statement than a question, more mindless dirty talking than an honest inquiry.
“y-you talk too much-agh!” a new, sharp sensation fills you up without warning. it’s toji’s finger, thick and calloused.
he makes quick work of finding your g spot. he prods at it mercilessly once he does, threatening to make you gush.
your back arches like a cat, overcome with ecstasy. an onslaught of wails, whines, everything pour out at his masterful finger fucking.
“do I still talk too much?” his eyes have found yours again, staring into them while he mocks you.
it takes your last bit of sanity to tell him to shut up.
he’s pissing you off, yet you can’t ignore how good he’s making you feel. you’ve never clenched harder around anything than his hands, wished to cum harder than on his face.
migrating from your thighs to your ass, his hands grip the supple skin tightly, kneading it like dough.
he spreads your cheeks with ease, dipping his chin lower for a better angle.
“fuck, just like that!”
he’s getting greedy off your moans, shaking his few into your cunt. cheeks fully spread, globs of saliva slip down your crack, lubing up the puckered hole of your ass.
his fingers are still working inside you. they’re so big, and most importantly long, reaching deeper than your fingers ever could.
orgasm is on the tip of your tongue, just out of reach. toji’s lips stay wrapped around your clit, sucking for everything he’s got.
“shit! i’m gonna cum-“
“go ahead and let it out, baby. cum for me.”
wetness gushes out of your weeping hole, tight and sloppy. he pins your legs down with ease, prying them open so he can continue torturing your poor clit.
“fuck, no more!” you beg, threatening to cum from overstim.
finally, he lifts his head up, not caring that his chin is glitzing with your slick. your ragged breaths fill the silence, still coming down.
“you okay, sweets?” he rubs your thigh absentmindedly, tracing the marks from his nails.
“yeah,” you mumble, barely managing to get it out.
that’s all the confirmation he needs before pushing you further up on the bed, his body following along.
it takes one of his hands to spread both your legs, weak and noodle like from exhaustion.
you barely catch him pulling down his pants, boxers coming down with them. he’s painfully hard, cock twitching and leaking,
he smirks when your eyes go wide.
”don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you,” he pants. what a lie.
just the tip is stretching you, parting your soft lips with ease. he slaps your pussy with the tip a few times, groaning as he does so.
“fuuuck, so wet. you’ve been keeping this pussy wet for me, huh? what a good girl.”
starting to get cockdrunk, you nod. a low gasp leaves your lips when he shoves the first quarter of his cock in.
“t-toji! wait, it’s too much!” he leans down to shush you, kissing your temple sweetly. it’s a sharp contrast to how roughly he’s fucking himself into you, schlick sounds beginning to fill the room.
both of you have had many hookups, some better than others, but none this intimate. he may be struggling not to rut into you, only half of his cock constrained in your warm heat, but the chemistry is unbeatable.
hanging in the air, the scent of sex fills the room, along with your combined grunts and wails.
"just like that," you moan, toes curling so hard they burn. what you're referring to, you don't know. but it doesn't matter, at least not when you're gushing on him, sucking him in until his eyes cross.
you choke on a breathy moan when he bottoms out, so full the stretch is intoxicating.
hips slapping into yours, he grabs your jaw, squishing your cheeks as he turns your head up towards him. it's demeaning how your lips pout, how wide his smirk gets when he looks down at you.
"no one's ever gonna fuck you like this, understand?" your eyes cross hard, fluttering lashes batting at your cheeks. "yes, toji!" breath mingling with yours, the air is hotter, a gaseous drug neither of you can get off.
a surge of pleasure shoots up your spine. it makes your back arch, another opportunity for him to reach deeper. he's damn near reaching your cervix, cock head kissing that sweet spot impossibly deep inside.
every time you show a moment of vulnerability-moan a little too shrill, clench so vice-like it makes his sack rise in pleasure- his hips quicken.
your legs wrap around his waist. that's the only way you can take his cock, not dig your nails in his back to the point they draw blood. heaving, he breathes "fuck, i'm close."
"ohmygod, i-i'm gonna!-"
"you're gonna what, huh?" he coos, rough voice going straight to your core. you wail straight into his neck, unable to stare into his deep eyes. with the hold on your jaw, he forces your head back, pinning you to the mattress with just his eyes. "you're gonna cum on this dick, aren't ya'?"
"mhm, mmh!" he chuckles when you weakly nod.
"then cum for me, baby."
this orgasm is stronger than the last. your whole body shakes, racked with electricity from the inside out. while the room is dark, the hypnotizing sight of you cumming lights up the room.
perspiration forming on your neck, lips bruised and bitten, legs spread so wide they'll ache later, it's no surprise toji cums immediately.
not a single soul has seen him this vulnerable ever. hips flush against your ass, he shoots ropes of thick, syrupy cum. it coats your insides, makes the slap of skin against skin so loud it's all you can hear.
his mouth opens then shuts. there's a look of bewilderment on his face, like maybe he wants to say something, but nothing comes out. he settles on lying on top of you, slightly askew so he doesn't crush your panting chest.
silence hangs in the air. for a while, you sit in your head, thinking. 'what in the hell just happened?'
snoring drifts to your ears, but it takes another second for you to process it.
"toji? are you seriously sleeping right now?" sure enough, he is. mouth open, drool slipping out, he snores like an exhausted father (because he is one)
your flick to his head wakes him. "huh, huh?" he asks, clearly bewildered by where he is.
"oh. sorry, doll." the dead pan look on your face is enough for him to realize his wrong doing, rubbing his neck in shy embarrassment. "it's fine, really," you mumble.
with a crack of his back, he pulls out. a low whine escapes your lips. he rolls off the bed, stumbling on his way up.
"are you going somewhere?" he pauses at your question, pants still halfway down and shirt crumpled. he never bothered to take any of his clothes off.
"yeah. i owe some dude at the casino a lot. he'll have my head on a stick if i don't pay 'im back."
"tojjiii," you wail, not yet ready for him to leave.
he drags his feet back, unable to see in the nearly pitch black of his bedroom. in an unexpected moment of love, he bends down and presses a kiss to your cheek. you catch his eyes crinkling, half smiling when you gasp softly.
"'m sorry, doll. i'll make it up to you, yeah?" slowly, you nod. he absentmindedly pats your head, turning back on his original course.
toji leaves you by yourself, listening to the drone of his fan while the front door clicks behind him. it's then that you realize you're still in your bunny suit, which is now covered in cum. yuck.
'my boss is gonna kill me!' you think. fishnets ripped, suit stained in the unholiest of liquids, there's no way you can wear it again, unless you want everyone to know what you get up to in your free time.
sometime during then and the next morning, toji takes you back home. he even bought you mcdonalds on the way there! his car grab handles are still broke, the paint is still scratched from a previous accident, but hey, it's still his.
a pang of sadness hits you when he drives off, blasting horrendous soundcloud rap from his busted up speakers. some would call what you're feeling 'being dickmatized,' but this feels like more, like honest attraction blooming into something greater.
toji fushiguro never expected to be in another long term relationship. when it hits the one year anniversary of your first fuck, it'd be an understatement to day he's stunned.
he shows up at your door with a posy, dirt still staining his hands from searching for flowers.
"they're for you, sweets."
"yeah, i know," you giggle, pulling at the petals one by one.
it's a little awkward to explain to your coworkers that 'brokie' is now your boyfriend. they always say he's just using you for your money, and maybe him slipping a dollar bill out your purse every now and then adds to the allegations, but whatever.
he's your brokie, and you'd never have it any other way.
masterlist
a/n: i really don't know how to feel about this. sorry for this coming out a little late! there was a lil error with my computer, but it's been resolved. fun fact, i wanted to give reader a buttplug really bad but couldn't figure out how to write it in, so unfortunately she has no buttplug, but we can pretend<3 i really hope y'all enjoyed, likes and reblogs are always appreciated!
Y’all do know we can tell when you’re not black writing black X readers right? It’s always butterfly locs, mustangs/hellcats, and broken aave with you hoes I swear.
I really want for all bigger black girls to find love. Love that cherishes them, holds them like the most treasured gift that they are and protects them on the daily. Love that doesn’t just accept but absolutely celebrates every inch and facet of their mind and body. Love that they can actually receive and reciprocate. I want bigger black girls to know love like this.
nanami can't stop making sex tapes on his work laptop...
he knows it's stupid. dangerous. absolutely anyone can see that. he also knows it's wrong, that he shouldn't have photo evidence of the ways he turns you out every other night.
but he can't stop. the thrill is too tempting, scandalous nature of recording your screaming orgasms scratching a part of his brain that's never been scratched.
square. stickler for the rules. (unless they're dumb) rigid. all words to describe him. yet he still has you in prone bone, tits pressed flat to the mattress like how his front is to your back, fucking you for the blinking red light to see.
"yes, right there!" your little voice carries to the microphone in spite of its shitty quality. his thrusts are slow, deep, like something out of those one of a kind amateur films.
without fail, his tip is hitting your g spot, sparks of pleasure radiating from your core to your toes.
"you like when i fuck right here?" thrusting hard on the last word, he makes your poor mouth hang open on a silent moan. he's been inside you so many times, mapped out every erogenous zone, he doesn't need to ask where to angle his perfect cock. your walls have every inch of him memorized.
"c'mon, darling. look at the camera. don't you want to look at your pretty face when we play it back?" cooing in your ear, voice like velvet, he guides your face to stare directly into the blinking light.
while he sees it as beautiful, you know you look beyond fucked out: pouty, kiss bitten lips, sweaty neck, ruffled hair and his hand forcing your head into the pillow make for the perfect pornographic look.
disheveled. exhausted. that's how he wants his wife to look after rounds of making love, because that's when he knows you're truly satisfied.
it's why he's grinding into you, free hand snaking around your body to rub that swollen clit. "fuck, ken!" swallowing your moan with a kiss, he finds himself rubbing even tighter circles just the way you like.
"oh my god!" voice fraying at the edges, you can't help the way it cracks when he's fucking you so good. your moans go straight to his cock, rutting into you deep like an animal.
the pressure building in your core is low and familiar. nanami's length damn near kissing your cervix, clit stimulated, your orgasm is sure to crash any moment now.
"s-slow down!" he chuckles at that. "now why would i go slower when you're enjoying it so much?" there's a strain on his words, like he's fighting back a groan. "'s too much!"
too much. like he hasn't heard that before.
"agh-were you not begging for it, though? that text to 'come home soon, i need you to record' just my imagination, hm?" condescension drips from his tone like honey, teasing his silly wife for thinking she couldn't take his mouthwatering dick.
"are you saying i'm lying, darling?" how could he expect you to listen to anything he was saying when he's rearranging your guts so good?
"n-no, ken!" "that's what i fucking thought."
your trembling hands clutch the sheets like a lifeline. surges of pleasure make your legs kick up, but his legs are on top of yours, caging you in. suddenly, he angles his hips up, heavy balls now smacking into your clit while his tip hits your g spot over and over.
"oh my god, i'm gonna cum!" the hand gripping your face lets go, moving to caress your hand. "go ahead and cum for me, my love," he whispers, moving his lips to the nape of your neck, ghosting over the sweaty skin.
nanami watches in awe as you orgasm, hips shaking in pure ecstasy. his eyes, which were previously glued to the screen, are now locked with yours, rolled up as you quake against him.
"just breathe, baby. breathe." he's always there to talk you through your orgasm, suddenly becoming tender as if he wasn't whispering filth in your ear a second ago.
the recording doesn't stop until you've fully come down from your high. off camera, you finished him off, swollen lips giving him stellar head until he came.
but that's not for the camera to see. it's about you, watching you writhe in pleasure filled agony, documenting how many times you can cum, rewatching the first time he made you squirt.
every moment is hidden in that camera, inside of those files.
next time he needs to send a video attachment, god better make sure he clicks the right thing and not another sex tape. the dirty films take up most of his storage.
but maybe he wants people to see them. to see how good he fucks his wife, how loud she moans because no one can fuck her like he can. maybe then his shitty boss will leave him alone, see that nanami kento has no problem "letting loose."
I’m legit so tired of bitches complaining about black!reader. Tfym all black!reader does is party, smoke, and strip? So many fics of black!reader being a scholar, a bimbo, ex-wife, wifey, wifey to girlfriend, girlfriend to ex girlfriend, tutor, needing a tutor, a baker- i mean the list goes on AND THESE ARE ALL FICS THAT HAVE RECENTLY BEEN RELEASED! Mind you these types of fics have also been released on black!reader tumblr for YEARS! I’ve been on this account for a few years now and black!reader is never just some random ignorant, ass shaking bitch. Even when shaking ass, all of these girlies put in so much work to give her personality, a backstory, and emotions. Not only have I seen one black fic writer write a range of black!reader, I’ve seen MULTIPLE black writers on here write a range of black!reader. It’s not just a matter of you not finding the right account, it’s a matter of you just ignoring the damn fics and not looking for them. DONT GET ME STARTED ON THE FUCKING SINNERS FICS BECAUSE HAVE YOU SEEN WHAT BLACK WRITERS HAVE DONE FOR BLACK!READER WITH SMOKE AND STACK?! Yea stop playing these girlies like that aint put hella time, energy, and thought into these fucking works that they do FOR FREE! Even if they want to only write black!reader as “ghetto” and as someone who shakes ass THEY HAVE EVERY FUCKING RIGHT TO DO WHAT THEY FUCK THEY WANT! If you want something different WRITE IT YOUR FUCKING SELF! Everyone does this shit for FREE and for the damn love of the game. Black women can’t even create in peace without random bitches getting on their ass? Can Black women please just be left the fuck alone ESPECIALLY by their OWN FUCKING PEOPLE?! Damn yall pmo.
To every Black fic writer out there that’s creating for us to enjoy, please continue unapologetically. Please let black!reader shake ass, get degrees, get married, have kids, get divorced. I’ve seen too many black writers leave this platform and deal with constant harassment and negativity. I love you and all of us who are enjoying yout content loves you too!
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