ꪆ୧ 18+ blog I am kinda new on here and to writing so please go easy on me
ꪆ୧ I’m not writing for any specific fandom just whatever I want and who I find attractive so it might be many different people and I am accepting requests at the moment. Also all my x readers I write are black coded!
pornstar!arthur morgan x pornstar!plus-size!black reader x pornstar!joel miller
summary: porn, all the way up. getting railed by two buff older men.
cw: p in v, p in a, double penetration, fingering, oral (males receiving), unprotected sex.
The set lights hit warm against your dark skin, catching on the soft sheen already starting to form along your collarbones. Arthur Morgan’s broad chest is right in front of you, thick with muscle and scattered with coarse hair that trails down to the heavy cock already half-hard in his fist. Joel Miller stands just behind, his rough palm sliding over the curve of your ass, squeezing once like he’s testing how much give there is. The director’s voice is still droning about angles and marks, but none of you are really listening anymore.
You drop to your knees between them, the floor cool under your skin. Arthur’s cock twitches when your fingers wrap around the base, and you lean in, tongue flicking over the head before you take him deeper. A low groan rolls out of him. “Fuck, that’s it…” Behind you Joel’s hand moves lower, two thick fingers sliding between your folds, finding you already wet. He pushes one inside, slow, and your hips rock back without thinking.
The camera is rolling. You know it is. But when Arthur’s hand settles on the back of your head and he starts fucking your mouth in shallow thrusts, something shifts. Joel’s finger curls, finding that spot that makes your thighs shake, and you moan around Arthur’s cock, the sound wet and needy. Arthur’s hips stutter. “Jesus, darlin’… you’re really—fuck.”
Joel pulls his finger free and replaces it with the blunt head of his cock, pressing forward until the stretch makes your breath catch. You’re still sucking Arthur, spit running down your chin, when Joel sinks in the rest of the way with one steady push. The slap of his hips meeting your ass is loud in the quiet between takes. slap… slap… slap… Your walls flutter around him and he grunts, hands gripping your waist tighter.
They move you like you weigh nothing. Arthur pulls out of your mouth with a wet pop and hauls you up, spinning you so your back meets his chest. He hooks his arms under your thighs and lifts, spreading you open. Joel steps in close, guiding his cock back inside you while Arthur’s length presses against your ass, slick from your spit. You feel impossibly full when they both push in at once—Arthur stretching your ass, Joel buried deep in your pussy. The stretch burns sweet. Your head falls back against Arthur’s shoulder, a broken moan spilling out.
“Goddamn,” Joel rasps, voice rough. “She’s so fuckin’ tight like this.”
Arthur’s breath is hot against your ear. “Takin’ us both so good, girl. Look at that pretty pussy stretchin’ ‘round him.
They start moving, finding a rhythm that has you bouncing between them. Every thrust sends slick sounds echoing—schlick, schlick, schlick—mixed with the wet slap of skin. Your dark nipples are tight, rubbing against Arthur’s chest hair with every bounce. Joel leans in and sucks one into his mouth, teeth grazing, and your whole body jerks. Arthur’s cock drags over that spot inside your ass that makes your toes curl.
They fuck you standing like that until your legs start to shake too hard. Arthur lowers you onto the bed, flipping you onto your hands and knees. Joel stays behind you, sliding back into your pussy with a low groan while Arthur moves in front, feeding his cock between your lips again. You suck him greedily, cheeks hollowing, while Joel’s thrusts shove you forward onto Arthur’s length. Spit and precum drip from your chin onto the sheets. Your ass ripples every time Joel slams home, the contrast of your brown skin against his pale, scarred hands stark under the lights.
“Fuck, look at her,” Arthur mutters, thumb brushing your bottom lip where it’s stretched around him. “Mouth full and still pushin’ back on him like she can’t get enough.”
Joel answers by reaching under you, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles that make your thighs tremble. Your moans vibrate around Arthur’s cock and he curses, hips jerking. You pull off just long enough to gasp, “Don’t stop—please don’t stop,” before swallowing him down again.
They switch. Arthur takes your pussy this time, driving in deep while Joel claims your mouth. Your tongue works over the underside of Joel’s cock, tasting yourself on him. Arthur’s pace is relentless, the head of his dick hitting that perfect spot over and over until your vision blurs. Joel’s hand fists in your braids, guiding your head, and the little sting only makes everything sharper.
You end up on your back, legs spread wide. Arthur is between your thighs, pounding into you with heavy thrusts that make your tits bounce. Joel kneels beside your head, feeding you his cock while his fingers pinch and roll your nipple. Your dark skin is flushed darker now, sweat making it glisten. Every time Arthur bottoms out you let out a broken little “ah—ah—ah” that Joel seems to like, because he pushes deeper into your throat until your eyes water.
“Gonna cum if you keep doin’ that,” Joel warns, voice strained. You hum around him in answer and he groans, pulling back just enough to paint your tongue with the first hot spurt. You swallow what you can, the rest dripping down your chin onto your chest. Arthur watches, eyes dark, and fucks you harder, chasing his own release.
He pulls out at the last second, stroking himself fast over your stomach. Thick ropes of cum land across your dark skin, stark white against the deep brown of your belly. He rubs the head of his cock through it, smearing it, and you whimper at the filthy sight.
The director’s voice cuts through the heavy breathing. “Cut! That’s a wrap on this scene, guys. Great energy.”
None of you move.
Arthur’s hand is still on your thigh, thumb stroking slow circles. Joel’s cock, still half-hard, rests against your cheek. You look up at them through your lashes, lips shiny, and the air shifts again. Arthur’s eyes flick to Joel, then back to you. A slow, dangerous smile tugs at his mouth.
Joel’s voice is low. “You heard him. Scene’s done.”
But Arthur is already pushing your legs wider again, lining himself up. “Ain’t done with you yet, sweetheart.” He sinks back into your cum-slick pussy in one smooth thrust and you cry out, back arching. Joel watches for a second, then moves behind you, lifting your upper body so your back rests against his chest. His fingers find your clit again while Arthur fucks you slow and deep.
They keep going like the cameras aren’t even there anymore. Arthur rolls you onto your side, hooking one of your legs over his arm so he can drive in at a new angle. Joel presses in close behind, the head of his cock nudging at your already stretched ass. You’re so wet and open that he slides in easier this time, both of them buried inside you again while you moan and shake between them.
slap… slap… slap… The sound of their hips meeting your ass and thighs fills the room. Your pussy clenches around Arthur, fluttering, and he curses. “She’s close—fuck, she’s squeezin’ me so tight.”
Joel’s teeth graze your shoulder. “Let go, baby. Come on our cocks.”
You do, hard, a broken cry tearing from your throat as your whole body locks up. Your walls pulse around them, slick gushing out around Arthur’s cock. They don’t stop. Arthur fucks you through it, pace turning sloppy, while Joel’s fingers keep working your clit until you’re shaking and oversensitive. Another orgasm crashes over you before the first one even fades, leaving you gasping and limp between them.
Arthur pulls out and flips you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up. He slams back in, chasing his own release now. Joel moves in front of you again, and you take him into your mouth without being asked, sucking messily. Arthur’s thrusts shove you forward, making you take Joel deeper. The wet sounds are obscene—gluck, gluck, gluck—mixed with Arthur’s low grunts and Joel’s rough breathing.
Arthur cums with a guttural groan, burying himself deep, filling you until it leaks out around his cock. He stays there, grinding slow, while you keep sucking Joel until he spills down your throat again. You swallow every drop this time, tongue lapping at the head when he finally pulls free.
The three of you collapse in a sweaty, sticky tangle on the bed. Your dark skin is marked with fingerprints and smeared cum, braids messy, lips swollen. Arthur’s hand rests on your waist, Joel’s fingers tracing idle patterns on your thigh. None of you reach for robes or call for the crew.
Arthur’s voice is rough against your ear. “Round two?”
Joel’s low chuckle vibrates through your back. “She ain’t tapped out yet.”
You push up on shaky arms, turning between them with a small, wicked smile. “Not even close.”
# cred @/bbyg4rlhelps , @pixopix .
@corsetdevious all rights reserved. i don’t want my work to be copied/plagiarized/stolen, fed into ai, or translated without my permission.
♡ thots expanded from this post ♡
𝓬𝔀: MDNI 18+ ONLY. choso x milf!reader, toji x milf!reader, although not rly full on choji. a lil fluff, a lil angst, a lil crack —tho mostly filthy domestic smut dripping in milf kinks. [plz dm me for h-anime name if you want it]
half-curse roommate!choso who you moved in with because its not like you can live with your on-again-off-again babydaddy!toji —the sorcerer killer —with a whole ass baby. although toji is an active co-parent (well, as active as a paid assassin who is gone most days of the week can be) what’s glaringly apparent to you is that toji doesn't have the best reputation. and you having the cursed energy of a mere window meant you couldn't protect yourself nor your 6 month old baby girl, should a long list of people come looking for him. staying with him, according to you, is out of the question. so when you need to move out of your apt and you heard from yuji that choso needed a roommate and didn't mind a young infant, you were sold. plus, toji thought he was a 'harmless enough lookin' chump' who could at least put up a fight against any threat… and the rent was cheap.
half-curse roommate!choso who's like a godsend as he's so helpful and considerate of you and the baby. he doesn't mind the all the crying. or that you are too exhausted at times to clean up properly. and that 9 times out of 10 you look a general hot ass mess while at home. if that weren't enough, choso would even play with your baby girl, letting you get in a much needed nap in. you tell him every time you’d only need 20 mins and he can wake you up but choso will sit with her on the sofa until you wake up. possibly hours later, but choso claimed he was happy to get to act like a big brother again. a natural born 'big brother type', choso will watch cocomelon for hours and let her cute chubby fingers tug on his pigtails. all while he makes funny faces that without fail guarantees a burst of tiny giggles, even if she'd previously been crying.
half-curse roommate!choso who also doesn't seem to mind when toji, said actual baby daddy shows up unannounced, usually at some ungodly hour to 'see his girls'. although you suspect that by 'his girls' instead of you and the baby, toji means your milk swollen tits and your creamy mommy pussy, as toji spends more time interacting with them than you or the baby. it's only a 2 bedroom apt too, so as not to wake the baby, you are usually fucking in the living room. not very subtly either. it's not like you’re the one lacking in decency though. you always full-on deny toji sex in favor of heavy petting under a blanket. yet after toji's made you lather his fingers in your squirt for the third time that night, your mommy brain, still trying to balance your hormones, goes completely smooth. its easy then for toji's minor requests for you to return the favor by 'just warming his cock up a lil' bit' always lead to major backshots off the edge of the couch. those deadly backshots, were how you got pregnant in the first place, mind you. thankfully, while you're face-down-ass up, you’re blissfully unaware. otherwise you’d be mortified that the sounds of your cushion-muffled moans and wet flesh slapping together drown out the shuffling scurry of feet and carefully shut doors when your roommate has to cross the living room to use the bathroom in the middle of the night.
half-curse roommate!choso who although you think is super sweet, being half curse makes him a bit naive. still, his endearing boyish charm is much welcomed when you are so used to toji's gruff and blunt personality. you also love choso's reactions when you flatter him with compliments like: 'you're the best choso!' or 'what would i do without you?' choso's ears will always redden he becomes bashful and quiet. you really mean every word tho! although you always get the biggest reaction, widening eyes and a blush that extends past his ears to his cheerful cheeks when you adoringly profess 'choso, you'll make such a good daddy one day ~♡ ' if he's even choked on his own spit a few times and you have to hide your giggles as you pat his back until he can swallow properly again.
half-curse roommate!choso who deliberately takes night shifts now. not just to give you your privacy for when toji comes over, but he tells you it's so he could watch the baby in case your nanny, who has bailed on you a few times before, doesn't show up. when you protest, telling choso he doesn't need to rearrange his whole life for you, he won't hear anything else about it. he's half curse he reasons, he's more suited to patrolling the night shifts anyway. you honestly don't even know how to thank choso who is honestly more of a co-parent then toji at this point.
half-curse roommate!choso who practically has a heart attack when he comes into the kitchen on his way to work, to find you with your bare breasts out feeding your baby girl on one boob and a pump machine on the other. you quickly have to calm him down and let him know that it's a perfectly natural thing to breastfeed in the open and is nothing him nor you need to be ashamed about. although it's true you usually pumped at night when choso was already at work so your baby could have fresh bottles for the morning, today your breasts were extra sore from being so full and your baby girl much too fussy. so that's what had you in the kitchen for an impromptu feed n' pump session.
half-curse roommate!choso who apologizes for his reaction as he didn't mean to offend you (he didn't, but he's soooo cute for thinking he did). opening up to you, choso divulges he never knew any of this as he didn't grow up with a mom. you knew choso was half-curse but you're shocked to discover he's a literal test tube baby and thereby completely unaware of most healthy parent-child dynamics. choso was definitely never breastfed. you smile at his genuine curiosity when he asks you to tell him more. so you explain that this impromptu feeding is more to pacify the baby. other than nourishment, nursing was one important way a mother could bond with a child so young. it provided the baby comfort and was one of the best ways to get them to settle down. and just like magic before choso's eyes your baby girl had been soothed in a matter of minutes, her anxious gurgles calming into soft coos as she sleeps.
half-curse roommate!choso whose desperately tries to retain eye contact as he converses with you at the kitchen table. your totally clonked-out baby girl had unlatched and you proceeded to have a normal conversation with him like your whole swollen n' leaky tit wasn't so casually exposed. choso berates himself to focus and 'act normal'. he knows its normal, you told him as much yourself and you're being normal. so why does choso feel everything but normal right now? choso panics. It’s way too hot in here! he had to get out, like now —what time was it again? standing up abruptly, choso sudden motion startles you when he announces he would be late to work, if he didn't leave right now. choso immediately regrets it though once he sees your furrowed brow and plump lil pout as you had been enjoying your conversation. choso knows because of the baby and toji that you don't get out much. frantic to make amends, choso can't help but to pay you a compliment on his way out the door. now it was your turn to blush wildly when he sincerely looked you in the eye and says—
“heh, i wish i grew up with a mommy, especially one as lovely as you.”
half-curse roommate!choso who comes back home earlier than usual that night, around 3 am but looks like he's worked a whole weeks worth of night shifts from his worn down appearance. his robes are tattered in various places, the bags under his eyes are more pronounced than usual, and wait... is that blood!? it took him a while to snap out of his dissociative melancholy, to notice you were even awake at this hour. trying to keep it together, choso gives you a smile that doesn't quite reach his own gaze. he honestly expected you to be asleep, as your baby girl usually slept well throughout the night. but you told him she had woken up an hour ago hungry and now you couldn't fall back asleep. truly though, you are a sight for sore eyes to choso. yet choso still cant help but feel more like a burden and failure when you begin to worry over if he had any injuries. the blood on him isn't his though, its civilians. so many, he hadn't been able to save everyone when a special grade curse had attacked a large apartment complex. 'its not your fault choso!' you along with everyone else had told him but it doesn't make it hurt any less. seeing people cry out for their fallen loved ones, he knew that pain all too well. no one else should have to suffer it while he had the power to prevent it.
half-curse roommate!choso who you make it your mission to comfort. he's always doing everything to help you, it's the least you can do in his time of need! gently you drag choso by one of his muscular arms to the sofa. you motion for him him lay his head on your shoulder and once he is settled, your arm cradles his head with delicate pats. however, it’s when you feel choso’s silent, wet tears hit your skin and he can no longer hold back his trembling, maternal instincts kick in. You immediately guide him to lie on his side, pulling him against your plush, buoyant chest so you can cradle him close, slipping effortlessly into full "mommy-mode." you coo lovingly for him to 'let it all out' as he sobs. you figure grown man or not choso is unlikely to ever have been given the grace just to unload on someone. he certainly wouldn't with his only remaining brother, yuji, who choso would never dream of burdening with his own problems. yet, like an angel, your warm hushes and gentle rocking soothes choso, wrapping him in a comforting embrace like a much needed security blanket. With soft caresses, you brush his wispy bangs away from his handsome face, keeping them from sticking to his tear stained skin. choso in turn pushes his face deeper into your bosom, clutching onto you like a lifeline.
half-curse roommate!choso who you'd been holding for quite a while when it finally dawns on you the increasing puddle of moisture you feel on your chest isn't the result of his teary sobs but your leaky tits. omg owww! and no sooner did you notice that fact then the familiar ache of them being too full confirms it. its clear to you now choso's crying had triggered your milk production as it if he had been your own child! although speaking of baby girls, choso looked so sweet and content with face buried into your plush curves, his own tears now dried. you absolutely hate to have to move him. but you knew you needed to because while you weren't ashamed of your completely natural bodily reactions —you also had enough couth not to drip your breast milk all over someone's face!
half-curse roommate!choso whose cheek you swipe feather like touches over as you tell him you have to get up. choso's response of course though is to hold on to you that much tighter. his croaky whispers plead to you, proclaiming how this 'feels so nice' —outright begging to stay like this for just a bit longer. and while his sappy puppy dog pout is activating something in you, and you want to give-in, the increasing swell of your tits is becoming unbearable. you need to go pump, like asap. so you try to bargin with choso that you can hold him more in a bit but right now you are soiling yourself and him.
half-curse roommate!choso who curiously enough, had been oblivious that the soaked wetness gathering between the both of you is no longer coming from him. daring to lick his lips, choso whimpers as he can taste the creamy, and mildly sugary, secretions that settled on them. you're so mortified to see choso's face covered in a sheen of your breastmilk you fail to notice just how intensely he’s been staring at your nipples. your pert lil' buds, practically greeting him, beckoning to him, centimeters from his face through your now soaked, transparent white pj top.
half-curse roommate!choso who upon zeroing in on the small pearly beads of milk pebbling through the fabric of your shirt, instinctively leans in to lap it up with a tentative lick. the action shocks you as you gasp, swallowing hard. your breasts feel so heavy with milk and are positively aching to release even the tiniest bit of it. unfortunately, choso's continuous microlicks only tease the idea of relief, the texture of his tongue chafing your soppy tee against your sore nips which had begun to tighten even harder— it was pure torture.
"c-choso!"
half-curse roommate!choso who when hearing his name squeaked out in such a pitchy cry immediately stops. instantly realizing what he's doing a stream of "s-shit shit, m'sorry, m'sorry!!" appologies slur out of him. choso looks up at you sheepishly, face burning in shame as he continues. "i-it's just that you're so soft n' warm... n' i've never felt so safe anywhere before, well ever! i swear it! i-i know that's no excuse but it tasted s'gud..." not being able to look you in the eyes anymore you can tell choso is about to pull away and instantly your fingers tangle up around one of his pigtails, holding him in place. you shake your head. "mm n-no, cho if you want to have some more, you can... if it's not too weird for you." all your good sensibilities are screaming at you, this isn't a good idea. never in a million years did you expect to be in this situation with choso. however such is life, and the facts are now: its late, your tiddies ache miserably and choso is giving very much eager baby girl ready to be nursed. how could you be expected to have the willpower to disengage??
"ya know, you'd actually be doing me a favor cho... pumps can be so uncomfortable and a mouth always feels so much better… um, is that okay?"
half-curse roommate!choso who thinks its more than okay and from then on gleefully volunteers to become your living, breathing, personal breast pump. you had to dump so much of what you would normally pump anyway, your body working overtime to produce milk as your baby girl definitely had the appetite of her often absentee daddy who at least would send money for bills and diapers consistently. sweet baby jesus, toji would most certainly go slap the fuck off if he found out about these breast pump!choso sessions. but tbh? fuck toji because he isn't here to drain your overactive milk ducts, choso is. and choso is so eager to do it too! its toji's own damn fault you decide. just like you decided to rationalize to yourself that choso latching onto your milk bloated tiddies is strictly quid pro quo. choso's simply helping you drain your tits and you're giving him the intimacy he so desperately craves. this is a friendly thing… you’re healing his inner-child and fears of abandonment —if anything you're like his mom, right? perfectly platonic.
half-curse roommate!choso who forces you to confront the fact there's nothing platonic to you about him so lewdly moaning out 'mommy' as he swirls his tongue around the plump fat of your puffy areolas. you can barely see his face now as choso isn't content unless he's practically suffocating himself under your heavy mammaries while he nurses on them. you swear choso would swallow your whole boob completely if he could get it all in his mouth. not leaving the other ignored, Choso’s hand gently bounces and massages the one he isn’t sucking, stimulating milk flow to be ready for when her turn comes. you suppose this was also around the same time he started calling you 'mommy' and that you'd end your pump sessions with your thong wet, sticky and practically glued onto your twitching cunny.
half-curse roommate!choso who causes your thoughts wander to more debased and salacious fantasies the longer he's latched onto you. would choso latch on just as well to your clit? would he smother himself just as deeply into yout cunt? and most importanly...would he enjoy suckling out the savory umami flavor of your pussy juices just as much as your sweet creamy tits? you imagine choso would do just as good of a job coaxing your cunt to spill its nectar as he did with your lactating breasts. these lewd ponderings ensure that by the end of every one of choso's feedings your pussy would be aching far more deeply than your tits ever were. but there was one BIG problem preventing this from becoming your reality...
half-curse roommate!choso who you aren't getting any sexual vibes from. at all. you think, like a lot of things, choso is clueless. so of course he doesn't know how often your clit pokes out between your pussy lips to throb to the flick of his tongue on your stiffened peaks. nor how your actual tummy would flutter, abs sucking in aggressively when he'd accidentally rake his teeth over your pert flesh... how could he? he wasn't even hard! your 'baby girl' choso would even doze off at times, all the while languidly slurping your soggy nipples raw. although it's not like you could really tell for certain... choso is always in baggy sweats or robes. you'd convinced yourself though that even if choso was a little slow on the uptake, he was still a man. and you knew exactly how men could be, thanks to toji. there's no way he could have contained his urges over a half dozen times if he was felt anything erotic about the way he’s so viciously slurping up the suds of his spit and your milk. choso is so sloppy with it, there’s rarely a moment where milk isn’t dribbling down from the corners of his lips.
half-curse roommate!choso who you are able to confirm definitely gets hard when after a nursing session, you spy him in the bathroom through the crack of the door. choso failed to shut it all the way. this gives you the perfect silver of a view to see him hunched over and resting his forearm on the wall, as he frantically jerks himself over the toilet. much of choso's black undershirt is currently stuffed into his mouth, giving him chipmunk cheeks as he attempts to silence his needy whimpers. the entirety of his sculpted abs and pecs are on display and your eyes can’t stop their journey to drift lower and lower. your own legs rub together as you notice how much choso is actually shaking, ferally chasing his nirvana as he thrusts his—rather large n' hefty cock —into his pre soaked palm. holy shit he had to be as big as toji! you're openly gawking, the crack in the door opening a little wider with your face pressing against it but choso isn't even in this reality anymore to be interrupted. his eyes squeeze shut as he envisions his thick cock between your bouncing tits, your sweet nourishing milk oozing over his balls. safe to say, choso had been extremely hard up this entire time. you find out just how hard up too when after immediately cumming his dick is still twitching as he starts stroking himself once more, you’d stand there while he would do it do twice more too.
half-curse roommate!choso whose eyes fly open during your very next feeding session when not 5 minutes in your delicate hand cups his dick over his sweats outta nowhere. oh he's VERY hard. choso is a hair away from bussin right then when he feels your silky smooth hands sneak beneath his sweats grasp his hefty cock. his breath hitches around your breast as he chokes on your milk from you running your thumb over his wet slit. choso's fat round cockhead already dampened his swampy shorts with pre. you can't even fit your hand all the way around him but that didn't stop choso's eyes from rolling back into his head when you give him those first few pumps. soft grip twisting using the liquid already running out of his tip as lubricant.
"ungh, whaa...?"
half-curse roommate!choso who can't even succinctly question what's going on because the fact you actually have your pretty palm around his cock is melting his mind and destroying any sense he has of space and time. this had to be a wonderful dream? had he somehow fallen asleep, drowned and or smothered himself in your breasts and this was heaven? it felt like it. shit, his own rough hand could never compare. you sweetly blow a kiss down at him, your movements only increasing in speed and friction.
"you earned this, cho. it's only fair mommy milks you after you've done such a good job for mommy being her pump baby..."
half-curse roommate!choso who hisses when you fully tug his engorged length out of his shorts. his cock pulses angrily, still inflamed even as the cool air hits it. fresh hot tears run down choso’s cheeks and spill on your chest as the pleasure is almost unbearable for him. choso won't last long the way his red tip is sobbing, soaking on to his quivering belly and you know it. "
c'mon baby. be a good boy and cum for mommy, yeah?"
you moan as choso nips and sucks ferally at your tits, other hand twisting and pinching your wet n puffy nipples enough to make you whine for even more. god, you’d never been this sensitive??would you finally cum just from your tits? watching choso fall to pieces in your lap and on your breast is something you didn't know how much you needed until this very moment.
"mommy m'c-c-cumming!"
lifting his hips to thrust up into your hand, choso spurts his frothy load like a supersoaker. it’s like a geyser, so much more than you'd ever seen a man cum before —and by your hand alone! your fingers attempts to contain his vicious cum but it spurts out everywhere. syrupy semen coats him, the sofa, and especially your forearm. a deviously sweet smile plays on your lips when your hand doesn't stop its twisting and pumping motions. getting every last bit of milk out, like choso had always done for you.
"mmm' nah cho-cho, i think you can give mommy more right?"
sniffling around your breast choso blissfully pleas for your to wait but his greedy little hips never stop, chasing even more ecstasy despite his over sensitive cock making his head swim.
"m-mommy m'pweaseeee..."
"mommy? huh? the fuck is all this bullshit!?"
oh whoops, when did toji get here?
half-curse roommate!choso who you have to shield from the wrath of babydaddy!toji who is totally crashing tf out over you catching you in such a compromising with choso. toji is roaring for you to get out of the way so he can 'handle' this. you refuse, telling toji he’d never see you again, your pussy or your tits... not to mention never see his daughter, if he harmed a single hair on choso's pigtailed head. your voice, elevated to a yelling to match toji’s, is what sets your daughter off and you demand toji go get her. you’re putting papa bear on time out. besides he needs to go cool off and spend time with his baby girl, who rarely sees him when she’s actually awake. you weren't in any kind of relationship with toji so he had no right to be angry. surprisingly, toji just grumbles, and obeys. glaring death at choso on the way to your bedroom. he's barating himself for even thinking that dweeby loser was harmless. although toji coulda swore choso was a eunuch at first glance.
babydaddy!toji who honestly, isn't even livid over seeing your freshly manicured nails, that he'd cash app'd you the money for, overflowing with choso's cum. your grip, still stroking the last spurts from his spent cock. a sympathy hand job wasn't too surprising really. especially since toji knew fapping is exactly what the lil' emo cuck did in the bathroom the nights toji actually spent over. choso would pathetically beat his meat to the squelchy sounds of your stretched, wet pussy, farting around toji's girth, ripping through your guts.
babydaddy!toji isn't even particularly upset with choso's pathetic display of tears, cumming like a whiny bitch boy while calling you his 'mommy'. disgusting. no frankly, what's really got toji hot and wanting to spill choso's blood is the massive messy milk ring pooling around choso's mouth and running down his chin. rage seethes through toji at the revelation: it's choso's fault toji hadn't been getting as much milk lately when he'd come over to play with his favorite girls (your tits).
half-curse roommate!choso who doesn't know how bad toji is plotting to get him out of the picture for good. somehow without harming him and pissing you off. toji wouldn't stand for this much longer though, that milk was meant for just for toji (and his daughter ofc, he supposes).
tsk, fuck! —suckin’ on those jumbo mommy milkers was the only reason why babydaddy!toji had worked so hard to get you fucking pregnant in the first place. >:(
𝓪𝓷: i'm ovulating and i need one of these men to put a baby in me. choso and toji with lactating kinks make my brain go crazy. one day ill write the gojo x nanami x milf!reader lactation fic based off one of my fav h-animes lol bet. also no one yell at me i wrote these at work and school when i was bored and my actual full fics i need like my entire focused brain to write lol
𓊆ྀི warnings .ᐟ + word count—5.0K, ORIGINAL!BLACK!FEM!READER! southern domestic vibes!, husband!toji, shyblack!femreader, blackwife!reader, ranchmen!toji, gritty!toji, southerncoded!femreader, southerncoded!toji, aggressive!toji, dominant!toji, gruff!toji, sweet!toji, size kink!, pet names!baby!love!, pussy eating!, face slapping!, 69!, riding!, sex after work!toji, aggressive sex!, dick sucking!, squirting!, creaming, condomless sex, minors aren’t welcome! 𓊇ྀི
メモ。— been in a deep depression + ‘was missin’ my number one, my man, my lover, my only in another lifetime. this was inspired by a lil’ tik tok made by @scrumptious_chowder—i can’t seem to find the specific link for the video i saw, i think she might’ve deleted it? but if you see this, babe. this one’s for you. love your content + all the nasty thoughts in your head. @chrollohearttags ? love you baby. teehee. enjoy.
IT WAS ONE OF THOSE DAYS.
One where talking your husband off the verge of a crash out wasn’t enough—but fucking it out of him made it all complete. Sweeter, somehow.
The evening sun spills honey gold through lace trimmed windows, casting delicate shadows across the yellow bricked backsplash of your kitchen—your sanctuary.
The air smells like yeast and the faint citrus of lemons piled in your farmhouse sink—natural light streaming in soft, golden pools across the Tuscany checkered floors. Your fingers, dusted with flour, press into the supple dough, kneading with practiced rhythm, the marquise cut pale gold band on your left hand catching the warmth with every movement. French tips glint against the raw, pillowy mass, your wedding ring a quiet testament to the life you’ve built here—far from the noise of New Orleans, in a house he built for you with his own calloused hands.
The vintage radio hums low, crackling with updates between New Orleans and Mississippi, the announcer’s voice a distant murmur beneath the rustle of your Persian kitten—Yumi’s—fur as she nudges the radio with her tiny, impatient head. You glance up, dark lashes fluttering, and reach over to twist the volume knob down.
“Too loud, baby?”
Yumi answers by leaping gracefully onto the vintage dining table behind you, stretching her fluffy body into a perfect arch before collapsing into a loaf, her purrs filling the quiet kitchen like a melody.
“…I guess so,” you hum softly.
Your kitchen was made with more love than his proposal, more intention than the ring itself. The single bowl sink overflows with lemons, limes, and a single stray peach, their vibrant colors bleeding into the muted tones of your oasis.
The curtains flutter, carrying the scent of distant rain and turning earth—his scent, soon. The house breathes around you, every nail driven by his hands, every brick laid with the weight of his promise.
“Ain’t gonna let nothin’ touch you ‘cept me.”
You and Yumi share the same untamed spirit—both of you all flickering tails and sharp, watchful eyes.
Your face, sultry as a fox, intense as a panther mid hunt, holds the kind of beauty that makes men pray before they dare to speak to you. Slender eyes, naturally dark waterline like you were born with kohl rimming them, framed by full, wispy lashes that give you an air of mischief—almost wicked, even when your soul is nothing but sugar. Deep pink lips, their edges kissed by a natural brown halo, part just slightly as you exhale, your large, arched brows lifting in amusement at your feline counterpart.
That wild mane of yours—deep copper melting into cinnamon, black balayage curling like tendrils of smoke—is tossed messily over your head, a single stubborn curl swaying against your forehead. A constellation of dark freckles dusts the bridge of your wide nose, the warmth of your ochre complexion glowing beneath the golden kitchen light.
“You’ll look no different in pregnancy," his voice rumbles in your mind, "Glowin’. Red. Fuckin’ perfect.”
You narrow those eyes at Yumi, who chirps at you like she’s got a whole argument prepared.
“Daddy’ll be home soon," you murmur, thumb stroking the edge of your sourdough loaf before setting it aside to rise—“…You think he’ll like dinner?"
The scent of New Orleans hangs heavy in the air—shrimp and andouille sizzling in a spiced roux, red beans simmering with a bay leaf tucked between them, and buttery cornbread waiting to be pulled from the oven. His favorites. The kind of meal that’ll soothe every ache in his body, warm.
Yumi answers by rolling dramatically onto her back, paws curled, tail flicking.
“Yeah—you’re no help."
The soft hum of the radio wraps around you as you lose yourself in the rhythm of cooking again, fingers dancing over ingredients with practiced ease. The music plays just a hair louder now—enough for Yumi to shoot you a withering glare from her perch, her tail flicking in disapproval. You ignore her with a little smile, your voice a gentle murmur as you hum along to the tune, the melody curling around the warm, spice laced air.
Then—the growl.
The deep, guttural rumble of his pickup truck tearing through the gravel drive is a warning, a proclamation—he’s home. Your spine straightens before you even realize it, ears attuned to the familiar sequence of his arrival—the creak of the screen door, the slam, the heavy thud of boots being kicked off near the welcome mat.
Except today—silence.
No boots. No pause. Just the hurried, uneven thud of his footsteps, heavier than usual, more urgent. A shiver races down your spine, instinct flaring before you can even turn—
And then him.
Big. Encompassing. Swallowing you whole.
His heat presses into your back, rough hands gripping your hips like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. You don’t need to look up to know his expression—you feel it. The tension coiled in his muscles, impatient huffs against the curve of your throat.
“You scared me,” you whisper, voice trembling just slightly as your fingers lift, clawing back into the wild strands of his hair—midnight black, nearly blue in the dim light. It’s longer now, unruly, a messy tangle between a wolf cut and a short mullet, the front nearly falling into his eyes. Your nails scratch lightly at his scalp, and he exhales sharply through his nose, his apology a low, graveled grunt against your skin.
“‘Couldn’t get to you fast enough."
You know him.
His anger, his irritation, the frustration clings to him like a second skin. It seeps into you like ink in water, dark and suffocating, a storm barely contained beneath the surface. Your body responds before your mind can catch up—arching back into him, your pulse fluttering beneath his touch.
That’s when your hands shift, turning you just enough in his grasp to catch his gaze—and the moment you do, the world narrows.
Those eyes.
Deep gray, like storm clouds rolling in over the pasture, narrowed and restless beneath the weight of his scowl. His brows—thick, dark, almost severe—are knit together, tension carved into the space between them. At thirty two years old to your twenty nine? The years have only sharpened him, etching his features with an intensity that makes your breath catch. A full blooded Japanese man raised in the heart of the South, he’s a walking contradiction—heritage and home clashing in the best ways.
And today, every inch of him shows it.
Dust clings to him like a second skin, ground into the fabric of his filthy wifebeater, streaked across the navy and black flannel rolled up to his forearms. His tattoos—a sprawling canvas of ink swallowing his egregiously broad frame—peek out from beneath the dirt, the edges of them smudged with the day’s labor.
Head ranchmen. Raising livestock. Wrestling miles of fencing. Hauling hay, operating machinery, fighting with the land and the heat and the men under him who can’t keep up—it’s all written across the stars. His muscles are still coiled tight, his jaw working as if the frustration hasn’t fully left his bones.
And yet, god, he’s yours.
The scent of him—sweat, leather, and something wild washes over you, a pheromone laden reminder of exactly who you belong to.
You reach up, thumb smoothing gently between his furrowed brows.
“You okay?”
He exhales sharply, "M’alright. Always doin’ this, woman. Thinkin’ I’m about to cry."
A laugh bubbles in your chest, but you press closer instead, fingers trailing down to cup his jaw.
“My soul’s with yours," you remind him, tilting your chin up despite the height difference—“I know when you’re sick before you do—"
He grunts at that, but there’s no real irritation behind it. Instead, he ducks his head, nudging his nose against yours in a rare moment of tenderness, the gesture contradicting every rough edge he wears so well.
Toji’s head dips low, those storm gray eyes scanning you with the kind of focus that makes your pulse flutter.
You stand there in white fuzzy socks, swallowed whole by the oversized replica of his flannel—the deep blue of it sharp against your caramel skin, sleeves slipping past your wrists, the hem hanging dangerously high on your thighs.
And as your husband, he knows what’s beneath.
The way your waist cinches in like a damn hourglass, unnaturally narrow compared to the flare of your hips—so wide, so heavy it looks like you’ve carried a child before. The ass that fills his palms perfectly, fat, jiggling with every step. And those tits—full, heavy, sitting high like they belong on a sultry pin up poster. His name—Fushiguro—in tiny cursive beneath the curve of your left breast, a claim he never gets tired of seeing.
Your fingers drag gently through the hair at his nape, nails scratching lightly as you murmur, “Yumi missed you.”
His thumb swipes over your bottom lip, calloused and rough—“‘Momma missed me too?”
You nod, just slightly, tilting your head with those fox eyes of yours—narrowed, knowing, stripping him bare of any lie he could try to spin.
“Tell me what happened at work.”
His brow twitches, “You tellin’ me?”
You don’t argue. Just raise your brows, waiting.
A beat. Then, with a sharp exhale, it spills—
“Men actin’ like goddamn children. Argued with me ‘bout the fence line—then one of ‘em nearly flipped the ATV ‘cause he wasn’t payin’ attention. ‘Whole damn day wasted fixin’ other people’s—” His voice deepens, slipping into sharp edged Japanese, “…Nande kon'na baka-domo to issho ni hatarakanakya naranē nda? Mattaku, kuso jikan'nomudada.”
Why the hell do these idiots work for me? Total waste of fuckin’ time.
You stand on your tiptoes, pressing your thumb between his brows again, smoothing the crease there as you answer him—fluent, just like he taught you.
“Son'nani ikatteiru to, fukeru no ga hayamarimasu yo.”
You’ll age faster being so angry.
He pauses, nostrils flaring—before he lets out a sharp exhale, forehead dropping against yours.
"...Goddamn, woman. ‘Always knowin’ how to shut me up.”
You hum, pressing closer.
“So that’s why you keep me around?”
“Nah. Keep you ‘cause you’re mine.”
You hum, fingertips tracing the corded muscle below his neck, your touch featherlight.
“Did talking about it help?"
His jaw flexes, “You want me to lie?"
“I’d rather you be honest, Fushiguro.”
A rough exhale escapes him, “I’m on the news tomorrow? ‘Know I killed one of those bastards."
You know he doesn’t mean it—but the frustration is real, simmering beneath his skin like an untamed storm. So you tease just a little, trying to loosen the tension coiling in his shoulders—“Fussier than a baby, ‘swear."
That gets you a glare—"Nowhere near a damn child."
You react before he can pull away, fingers tangling in the dark strands of his hair, holding him just firm enough to ground him.
“Hey," you murmur, voice softening, “I was just pokin’, love. Yeah?"
He stares down at you, that perpetual scrawl of his features more habit than anger now. After a beat, he nods.
You press on, voice a gentle lull.
“Rough days are inevitable…but there’s your favorite meal to look forward to. And cuddles from me an’ Yumi."
His expression doesn’t change.
"Or," you offer, tilting your head, “I could rub your ear ‘like you like?”
Something shifts in his gaze then—dark, heavy. He looks at you—really looks. That sweet, sultry face he’s seen crumble beneath him, twist in pleasure, pout in frustration. It all hits him at once, a wave of something possessive and hungry that makes his fingers flex against your waist.
And in response?
“Yeah."
A single word. Deceptively simple.
Because you did rub his ear, sure—but what you didn’t expect?
Was ending up bouncing stupidly on his cock in the process.
Now, here you are—hair a mess of copper, cinnamon, and black curls, wild like a halo around your flushed face, the flannel hanging open, barely clinging to your shoulders. The fabric dips, revealing the sinful swell of your tits, the heavy weight of them barely contained by the parted material. Your fuzzy socks—adorable, ridiculous in contrast to the filth of this moment—curl helplessly into the bedsheets as you struggle to steady yourself.
Your thighs ache, burning from the relentless pace he’s set, but you barely feel it. Not when he’s got his hands wrapped around your waist, his fingers so big they nearly touch when he grips you—effortlessly hauling you up, then slamming you back down, forcing you to take every inch of him.
“F—Fushiguro—!"
You choke on his name as he pulls you all the way up, the slick length of him just about to slip free before he yanks you back down, letting his dick carve straight into your g-spot with every punishing thrust.
And the worst part?
He hasn’t even undressed.
Leaned back against the vintage headboard, still in his dirt-streaked wifebeater—tugged halfway up to reveal the hard planes of his abs, ink-dark tattoos trailing down the cut of his V-line. The roughness of his pubic hair grinds against your clit with every brutal snap of your hips, the friction almost too much, threatening to push you over the edge before he even lets you.
And his face—
Dark brows pulled low, storm gray eyes locked on you with an intensity that borders on cruel. He watches you with that same scowl, like you mean nothing to him in this moment—just a warm, trembling hole for him to use, fucking you with ruthless precision.
He leans back, the muscles in his arms flexing as he lifts you again, dragging you down onto his cock with a sharp snap of his hips.
“C’mon," he growls, voice rough with restraint—“Keep fuckin’ feelin’ me.”
You’re silent—trying to be—but your pussy isn’t.
Loud. Obscene. Creaming around him in thick, slippery pulses, gushing with every brutal snap of his hips. The sound of it—wet, filthy, shameful—fills the space between your ragged breaths. Your lips stay pressed together, but your expression betrays you—eyebrows pinched, a cute little frown twisting your face as pleasure burns through you, sharp and unforgiving.
Discomfort. Overstimulation. The kind of pleasure that hurts, that makes your toes curl and your stomach clench. Because god, the way he stretches you—thick, unrelenting, carving into you like he was made to ruin you.
The worst part? He knows.
Knows that in places where you’re soft, silent, observant—here, like this? You’re a mouthy little thing when he gets you there. Which is exactly why he cocks his hand back, fingers tangling in the back of your flannel, yanking you down harder on his cock before—
SMACK.
The sharp, stinging crack of his palm against your ass echoes through the room, your flesh jiggling from the impact, the heat of it blooming fast.
“Ain't hearin’ shit from you," he growls.
“C’mon. Gimme’ somethin’.”
The rough clap of your thighs against his hips—hard, frantic, skin slapping skin—does something to you. Your eyes flutter shut, your fingers sinking into his forearms, claws digging in as a whiny little cry punches out of you.
It’s a domino effect afterwards. A whimper slips free, trembling, desperate, and then another—another, slurring into heavier, broken whines, like you’re trying to swallow them back every time they threaten to escape. But you can’t. Not when he’s like this—when his thighs are so thick, his grip so bruising, when he makes you fuck him like he hates you.
“There it is,” he grunts, fingers tightening around your waist, hauling you down harder, heavier.
“‘Know my wife more than anyone in this fuckin’ world.”
You're an eye-rolling, pouting, mess.
His mess. Your pussy keeps gushing, clenching forcefully around the thick swell of his cock, kicking off a series of unfinished, half-shattered orgasms that leave you spiraling—dizzy, overwhelmed, ruined.
Tears brim your dark, pretty eyes, lashes sticking together as broken little whimpers spill from your lips.
“I'm—‘M cumming.”
But Toji? He doesn’t stop.
His grip tightens, digging into the softness of your hips as he finds a devastating new rhythm. Slower now, but heavier. Louder. Each deep, punishing thrust drags a wet, filthy sound from where you’re stretched around him, the slap of skin echoing through the room.
And the scent of him—god.
Woodsmoke, leather, the erotic musk of a hard day’s work still clinging to his clothes, swallowing you whole even as he lounges beneath you, lazily using your body to chase his own pleasure.
“Wanted me to feel better, ‘ain’t you?"
His palm lands against your ass again—hard—the sharp crack reverberating through your bones before he spreads you open with that same rough hand, exposing your flushed, dripping cunt as he starts fucking up into you with renewed force.
“Gonna fuck you ‘til every nut makes me less angry," he grunts, fingers biting into your flesh—“Had a hard fuckin’ day, remember?"
You lean forward, sniffling pathetically, nodding in meek submission—like you’ve lost a game you never even meant to play.
“Okay," you squeak, voice surrendering, small.
His teeth flash in a wicked grin.
“Atta fuckin’ girl."
And then he takes—pounding up into you with a brutal pace that has you muffling trembling little moans into the crook of your arm, body jolting with every deep, claiming thrust.
Toji slides his broad palm against the top of your head, fingers threading through your curls as he tilts your face up to meet his heavy-lidded gaze.
“You here with me?"
You nod, and that's all he needs before he tugs you forward by your hair, sealing your mouth with his in a deep, tongue-filled kiss. It's filthy, possessive, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip before he pulls back just as swiftly.
And then—SMACK.
His palm meets your cheek with enough force to make your breath hitch, just sharp enough to snap you back into focus.
“Fill your fuckin' mouth up.”
You sink down instantly, taking him between your lips with breathless little whimpers, your lashes fluttering as you suck him in deep. You pull back just enough to kitten lick along his length, teasing the flushed tip before swirling your tongue around it. Then lower—sucking his heavy balls into your mouth, your fingers lightly jerking the base of him.
It's adorable in the most pathetic way—how easily you obey when you're usually all quiet fire and defiance. But like this? You're truly his.
Toji watches as you work him over—his cock glistening with your spit, your lips stretched around him. Then he takes himself in hand, slapping his length against your flushed cheek, dragging it over your lips with a filthy, wet sound.
“Look at you," he grunts, voice rough with satisfaction.
And he does look—drinking in the sight of your dark, caramel skin flushed raw, your pretty eyes swollen with tears, your lips parted and trembling. It makes him crave more.
“C'mere," he growls suddenly, gripping your waist before flipping you both in one swift motion—your back now pressed to his chest, his thighs bracketing your head as he maneuvers you into a 69.
The second you're settled, he buries his face between your thighs with a groan, his tongue devouring you. You gasp, trying to refocus, wrapping your lips around his cock again—but it's impossible to concentrate when he's sucking on your clit like he's starved, his tongue dragging hot and wet through your folds, slurping obscenely. Your hips jerk, back arching as pleasure zings through you, your forehead dropping against his hip as you whimper around him.
“Focus, baby.”
He mutters this against your cunt—right before his hand comes down on your ass again, the sharp SMACK making you jolt. A broken moan slips past your lips, and then you're bobbing your head faster, hollowing your cheeks as you suck him back into your mouth with desperate, sloppy devotion.
And Toji?
He just feasts—grunting, licking, taking—his fingers digging into your hips as he fucks his tongue inside you, making sure you feel every second of it.
You don’t stand a chance.
The air is thick with the sound of skin on skin, your breath ragged and wet as you lose yourself in the rhythm of him. You move without thought, drunk on the taste of him, the weight of him on your tongue—both palms wrapped tight around the base of his cock, jerking him from root to tip in slow, filthy strokes. Your tits bounce with every movement, swaying heavy and lewd as you work him over in a way that’s downright pornographic, your body moving like it was made just for this.
Toji’s hips twitch, his breath catching when you suddenly take just the head of him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the swollen tip while your small hands take care of the rest. His head knocks back against the headboard with a low groan, his voice rough, strained, as he mutters something under his breath—half curse, half praise—before his hand comes down again, another sharp SMACK landing on your ass.
“Edge of the bed. Now.”
You crawl there on shaky knees, face pressing into the blankets, ass up—presented, waiting—and before you can even brace yourself, he’s sinking into you, stretching you open in a way that punches a muffled whine from your throat. His fingers tangle in the nape of your hair, tugging just enough to make your back arch as he yanks you back onto him, filling you to the hilt with a single brutal thrust. Your face stays buried in the blankets, lips pouting, muffling little whimpers and breathless complaints—but they’re weak, half-hearted, lost in the haze of pleasure as he starts moving, fucking into you with rough, measured strokes.
“Fussin’ just like Yumi," he growls, voice thick as you tuck your face deeper into the sheets, hiding the way your cheeks burn.
“Tch—feet closer to your chest.”
He rasps this, voice gravel-scraped and impatient. You whimper but obey, knees pressing tight to your body, hips lifted higher—exposed, helpless. Then, in Japanese, sharp and commanding—
“Jibun no handan de ugoite kudasai.”
Move on your own.
And you do.
At first, it's slow—tentative—your hips rocking back and forth in small, uncertain motions, your body arching as you try to find the right angle. The sight of you like this—spread open, trembling, taking him—is obscene. Erotic in the rawest sense.
His fingers snap once, sharply. Another order, another growled phrase—“Head up.”
You just obey, lifting your face from the sheets, breath ragged as you look back over your shoulder at him.
“If you don’t move, I’ll show you how I wanna’ be fucked.”
You pout—lips trembling, eyes wet—but then you start moving again.
Little bounces at first, your ass clapping lightly against his hips—gentle, testing. Then deeper. Faster. More. Until you’re fully fucking yourself on him, your body taking over, driven by instinct, by the need to please. His fingers tighten in your hair, holding you in place as you pant, as you whimper—
“…M’sorry, baby."
It slips out without thought, weak and breathless.
Toji only grunts, “Yeah?”
You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for. But you say it again, lips quivering.
“M’sorry—"
You’re squirting.
A hot, sudden gush, spilling around him without warning, your body convulsing as pleasure rips through you. The words turn into something else—deep, shuddering sobs, your voice breaking as you keep repeating it, "M’sorry, m’sorryyy...”
Your husband? He could care less.
Toji fucks you through it. His grip on your hair tightens, his hips snapping up to meet yours as you sob, as you tremble, as you fall apart.
Because this? This is how he takes his anger out.
The world narrows to nothing but the brutal snap of his hips, the sound of skin meeting skin in sharp, wet slaps. Toji yanks your legs out from under you, planting your feet flat on the floor—forcing your spine into a deep arch, your ass tilted up just right for him to sink into you even deeper, each thrust punching the air from your lungs.
You can’t help the noises that tear out of you—loud, broken, punched out moans that rise higher with every merciless drive of his cock. His fist tightens in your hair so everlasting, wrenching your head back as he growls above you, the sound rough and satisfied—because nothing pleases him more than hearing you unravel, your voice frayed beyond coherency.
Your fingers clutch at the sheets, knuckles white—until he tsks, a single sharp sound of disapproval that has you scrambling to correct yourself before he can fuss. Arms straight back, wrists together, like you know what he wants without him even saying it. His free hand wraps around both your wrists in one brutal grip, pinning them against the small of your back as he drives you into the mattress, fucking you so deep you squeal, high and desperate, your body jerking beneath him.
“Fuckkkk…!”
It’s a shriek, really—raw and guttural, your cunt gushing around him as he pistons in and out, his grunts syncing with your cries in a filthy, primal rhythm. He’s not gentle. Not close. Every snap of his hips is punishing, claiming, his cock dragging against that sweet spot inside you until you’re keening, your thighs shaking, your mind gone beneath the sheer intensity of it.
And then—
His rhythm stutters.
A deep, guttural growl rips from his throat, his fingers tightening hard in your hair as he buries himself to the hilt, spilling inside you in thick, pulsing ropes. Your sounds drown his—whimpers, choked cries, the way your body clenches around him as if trying to milk every last drop.
For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of heavy breathing—his, yours—both ragged and uneven.
Then he slowly pulls out, leaving you limp beneath him, your lower body trembling, your nerves still alight with aftershocks. Toji catches his breath for a beat—just one—before he leans down over you, his voice rough but soft now, murmured against your ear in Japanese.
“Daijōbudesuka?”
You alright?
His hand cups your throat from behind, tilting your face toward his. And then—kisses. Tiny, chaste pecks against your swollen lips, one after another, as if checking that you’re still with him.
You let out a breathless little giggle, your lashes fluttering.
“Mmm...legs feel numb."
He hums.
“They should.”
The moment his hands twist you around, your breath catches—but it melts into another light giggle as he scoops you up effortlessly, depositing you onto the bed like something precious. The sheets are cool against your overheated skin, a stark contrast to the burning imprint of his body still lingering on yours.
And then he looks at you.
His fingers slide through your hair again, slower this time, almost reverent, before his mouth finds yours in a kiss that’s startlingly gentle. You nudge your nose against his, affectionate, lingering, before you pull back just enough to murmur—
“…‘Gonna have a better day at work tomorrow?"
Sweet. Hopeful.
Toji rumbles, the sound vibrating deep in his chest as he presses a kiss to your forehead—“Already havin’ a better day now."
Your eyes dilate at that, lashes fluttering as you whisper—"Really?"
“Murder’s still in question for ‘them employees, though.”
Your face falls immediately, lips pressing into a pout as you sigh, long suffering. Before you can protest, his palm lands on your thigh—a light, teasing smack—and then he’s pushing off the bed, leaving you sprawled there. You scramble to grab his discarded flannel, draping it over yourself like a makeshift shield before flipping your hair back with an exaggerated huff.
“You’re hardheaded!”
“Got a hard head, baby.”
You suck your teeth.
But then? he reappears in the doorway, Yumi cradled in his big arms.
The whiplash of it nearly gives you an actual headache. One second, he’s got you bent over the bed, fucking you like you owe him money, and the next? He’s holding that Persian kitten like it’s spun glass, cooing at her in a voice three octaves higher than you’ve ever heard come out of his mouth.
You roll your eyes so hard you swear you see your own brain.
“You don’t talk to me like that.”
Toji ignores you, of course. Because why would he ever acknowledge the way your metaphorical tail is swishing back and forth in irritation? He’s too busy booping Yumi’s tiny pink nose, murmuring, “Momma’s the fussy one, isn’t she? Yeah?"
“Boy, please. I don’t win the hot head award. You’re an overachiever for that score."
He just smirks—smirks!—as he sets Yumi down on the bed, watching with that stupid, smug expression as she prances toward the headboard like the little princess she is, tail held high as she lets out a dignified Mrrow.
One second you’re lounging there, all sass and post coital glow—the next, he’s on you, knocking you flat onto your back in the sheets with a oomph that dissolves into breathless giggles as you shove at his chest.
“Go away!"
He doesn’t.
“You know how much I love you?"
You tilt your head, pretending to think.
“Not sure."
The air between you shifts—just for a heartbeat—from playful to something deeper, something heavier. His rough fingers catch yours, and he brings your hand up, pressing a slow, almost reverent kiss to the gold band on your finger. Against the metal, he murmurs something low and raw—something that sounds suspiciously like—“Mines forever."
You sigh, but it's a warm sound, your fingers curling around his, intertwining like they were made to fit there. Playfully, you squeeze.
“Hungry?"
He exhales through his nose, “Been thinkin' about those red beans all day."
You bat your lashes, feigning innocence.
“I wasn't part of the meal plan?"
His thumb drags over your pulse point as he leans in, breath hot against your ear, “You were the meal plan."
Then, just like that, he's hauling you up—one arm under your thighs, the other bracing your back as he tosses you halfway over his shoulder like you weigh nothing. You yelp, but your legs lock around his waist instinctively, arms looping his neck as he starts moving.
“C'mon. I'm starvin'."
You press your lips to his jaw, nipping just to feel him tense—“You're starvin’, and you love me?"
He grunts—but for him? It’s not a denial. It’s yes, a thousand times over.
And just like that, the scene fades—into the quiet hum of domesticity, into love and passion and marriage with all its rough edges and sweet, stolen moments.
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬◞﹒୧. Sukuna was a psychopath. You were psychotic. Since childhood, you have been inseparable. As you grew up and followed your dreams, your duo is the favorite topic of Twitter. The coquette famous actress who feels things too much and the unhinged mma fighter obsessed with violence. Only you were indifferent to his lack of empathy and guilt. You even found his empty dark gaze kind of sexy. Only he was unfazed by your hysterical sobs as you explained yet another megalomaniacal idea during a psychotic episode. He would keep you on his lap and nod his head to your plan to save the starving children of the world. However, he wasn’t your type. You wanted the perfect man who would be a family man. But when Sukuna's little brothers die suddenly, although he hides his grievance, he needs the woman he has always been in love with more than ever.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬◞﹒୧ . 13.3k words, black!fem!reader, plus!size!reader, coquette!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, yearning, dark romance, childhood friends to lovers, crybaby!reader, grief, mental health themes, family problems, bullying, hallucinations, delusions, schizoaffective disorder, lack of guilt & affective empathy, impulsivity, violence, animal cruelty, canon sukuna’s personality, ‘baby & bitch’ pet names, medical abuse, sukuna has black hair for specific reasons, yuji & choso are sukuna's little brothers, fully!tattooed!sukuna, smut, semi teenage first time, fingering, kisses, ass grabbing, cunnilingus, passionate sex, vaginal penetration, bathroom sex, dick piercing, unprotected sex, blood kink, sadism, unconventional relationship.
𝐤𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬◞﹒୧ . don't ask anything. if you ever wonder if reader comes from experience : yes, she does, now let's move on………..
˚₊‧꒰ა 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞, 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but emptiness resides in Sukuna's gaze.
His black-dyed hair clung to his sweating forehead as his thrusts grew in power and speed. With one hand on the headboard, he stared at Yorozu with such intensity that she preferred looking at the numerous tattoos on his chest. She couldn't meet his gaze for fear of being speechless by the void within. Blood red, empty, piercing—they possessed a black aura despite their ruby luster.
“You like 'em?” Sukuna asked, his eyes following her delicate hands as they traced the ink across his skin. The depth of his voice, yet the lack of sexual excitation in it, made her swallow hard.
She knew he didn’t really care about her opinion on his tattoos. She knew Sukuna didn't care about anything beside you.
“I like everything about you. Especially this,” she whispered, her fingers dancing over the cute unicorn tattoo on his ribs, the one that stood out from the rest.
He slapped her. A red mark appeared on her cheek as she stared at him, stunned, her lips parted.
“Mind your own business.”
He asked this because he just wanted an excuse to hurt her. It’s kind of hard to soft-launch sadistic tendencies.
“I’m sorry, I—”
Sukuna’s hand closed around her throat, squeezing without a shred of shame or fear of killing her.
“You know damn well all of this is for someone else,” he mocked her, lowering his head to kiss her.
Tongues tangled, breath ragged from the grinding of his hips, yet there was no passion to be found. The R&B playlist she’d put on to set the mood, her lingerie, and her perfectly styled hair, all wasted efforts to connect with a heartless man.
And yet, his heart beat for you; she knew it.
Everyone knew the D&S duo: Dollette & Sukuna.
That was your nickname. Your personal branding strategy was perfect : black-and-white outfits and accessories in a coquette style, with ribbon bows and lace. A dark doll. When you acted in movies, people were blown away by your ability to embody aesthetics other than the one so intrinsically tied to your public image.
Every photo of you and Sukuna ended up on women’s Pinterest boards, and the “best friends with sexual tension” trope exploded on BookTok. You two were the OGs. A hit couple without actually being a couple.
So, as his coach’s daughter, Yorozu knew him well. She knew exactly who was on his mind while he fucked her.
It showed in the way he touched her hips, and in the frown that creased his brow when he couldn't find the curves, the thickness, that you possessed. She could feel it when his body was pressed against hers, his eyes narrowed on her as if he wanted to punish her for lacking your softness. When he pulled her hair, he’d click his tongue in disapproval. It wasn't the same texture as your braids, nor the same volume as your curly hair. He was so bored with her.
Sukuna was bored with everything in life; she knew this.
She had thought she could heal his loneliness with her love. She had fallen in love the moment she met his merciless gaze during a boxing session with her father.
But when he finished training, he didn't turn to her to get to know her.
He turned to you.
Dollette. The actress who had already won multiple prestigious movie awards at just twenty-four. Known for her theatrical personality she displayed during hypomanic episodes, traits that infused her acting roles with raw emotion. Always seen in black Mary Jane heels and high white lace socks.
The kind of woman Yorozu couldn't compete with.
But you were his best friend, not his girlfriend. Sukuna wanted nothing serious. The love he felt for you was an exception, a distortion of reality, something that happens once every thousand years, a genetic anomaly.
Sukuna only fucked women when he needed to hurt someone. Foreplay was a pain in the ass to him. He was there for the violent sound of the bed banging against the wall, for the scratches on his back as his partner reached their peak.
Yorozu smiled at him as he strangled her.
“You think you're cute? I can't even cum with your face.”
He buried his face in her neck; his stomach churned with disgust at her scent. So far from the blend of vanilla mist, caramel perfume, and cocoa butter cream that was yours. He was allergic to any woman who wasn't you.
He closed his eyes and imagined you in her place.
Maybe you would be the only woman he’d make love to. The one with whom he’d take his time. The one with whom he’d pay attention to pleasure. All while still hurting you, because violence was his love language, his mark on humanity; that was why he boxed.
He pictured your cheeks wet with tears as you sat on his lap, in the throes of a psychotic episode. Your speech broken. The words that made no sense in your sentences. Your face buried in his chest, begging him to silence the noise in your head. You at your rawest.
He loved your tears, he loved it when you suffered. But only because of him. He hated your demons, the shadows of your mind that enveloped you in a world no one understood, not even him.
“Let’s stop this shit,” he grumbled, pulling away from Yorozu, who was whining.
She missed the warmth of his body, even though she wasn’t unaware of the coldness in his heart.
Sukuna’s lip corners lifted in a spiteful smile as he took off the condom and put on his clothes. “I didn’t even fuck you with any passion, the fuck are you whining for?”
Yorozu straightened her elbows, hoping he liked seeing her breasts (he didn't).
“Why did you dye your hair black? We can see the pink roots.”
“To make stupid bitches like you talk,” he chuckled, remaining shirtless, his muscular body and sculpted abs on display. He got out of bed, wearing the Jaded London baggy jeans you'd bought him. You were the fashionable one in the duo; he couldn't care less about his appearance.
As he rummaged through his things to find a pack of Marlboro cigarettes, Yorozu tried to ignore the energy emanating from his room. Everything was dark and so cold, as usual. Impersonal. Nothing that suggested anything intimate about him. Yorozu always came to his place with excitement to discover new information about the man she loved, but she was greeted by the physical evidence of his disconnection from the world.
The only thing radiating light was your smile in a framed photo on his bedside table. An androgynous person with short white hair had an arm around you and looked nervous, as if whoever was taking the picture was glaring at them for touching their girl.
Uraume. Sukuna’s personal physical therapist.
Yorozu tried to sleep with him too to get information on Sukuna since he was his childhood friend, but he never gave her the attention she wanted.
She nibbled at the inside of her cheek, glaring at the photo frame.
“We could have a picnic this weekend,” she said softly, playing with her hair, hoping he would find her hairstyle attractive (he didn’t). “You have a few days left before the next MMA event, we could—”
The bedroom door slammed shut as he stepped out onto the living room balcony. He rested his elbows on the railing, gazing at the city of Tokyo across the street, smoking his cigarette.
Sometimes he liked to watch people walking down the street and see his neighbors from the building across the street through the window to remind himself that he was superior to everyone.
All those people who felt guilt, empathy to the point of losing their sense of self. He could jerk off in front of Tokyo, show those idiots (who said how terrifying he was and had probably killed someone, making it undeserving to be among Rizin's champions) that he'd cummed on their faces.
Being empathetic, regretting something, feeling guilty was a drag.
Sukuna was as fast as lightning without his feelings, taking him to the very top of the MMA championships because that man genuinely didn't give a fuck.
He proudly declared himself the best in interviews and mocked his losing opponents. He cheated with his weight by losing quickly to be in a lower weight class and gain an advantage. He slept with his coach's daughter behind his back. Not a single fuck, and he waited for someone to challenge him.
His phone rang, and it was the special "Totally Spies" ringtone you'd set yourself so he'd know it was your group of friends and avoid ignoring his phone.
He smiled, checking his notifications.
[chats from ‘dollette's voices’ group chat]
schizoaffective baddie 💅🏿 : kuna didn't say good night to me :(((
schizoaffective baddie 💅🏿: im heartbroken and gonna kms for real now
sukuna : who gives a fuck about you
schizoaffective baddie 💅🏿: nobody 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
sukuna's dick rider 💯 : you're mean kuna, she misses you
sukuna : don't even start uraume i just fucked yorozu im in a bad mood
[schizoaffective baddie 💅🏿 is now offline].
big ass blue eyes 👁 : sukuna you have no game why tf did you say that in front of her
sukuna : that girl doesnt want my dick lets be real she said i was a slut
big ass blue eyes 👁 : u are
sukuna : acting as if you dont have suguru's mouth around your dick rn
big ass blue eyes 👁 : 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
big ass blue eyes 👁 : [photo]
sukuna : delete that disgusting shit immediately
peace n love 💐 : did yall forget i was a minor
emo boy : sukuna you're the worst big brother i know tf is that conversation yuji is 16!!!!!
sukuna : blah blah blah tell dollette to stop ignoring my calls
big ass blue eyes 👁 : is patrick bateman just experiencing guilt ??
sukuna : dont compare me to that whiny bitch he is hella insecure
emo boy : stop saying the b word
sukuna : suck my dick choso
emo boy : be a goddamn good older brother for once in your life
Sukuna rolled his eyes and focused on his phone to call you. After the tenth call, you finally picked up. He let out a heavy breath hearing sniffles.
“Your needy ass needs to stop.”
“I know but like anything breaks me down right now.”
“I know,” he said gently, the type of voice he uses only with you. “I told you to take your meds.”
“You don't get it, 'kuna. I need antipsychotics for the schizophrenic aspect of my disorder, but these meds make me so sleepy and basically a zombie. I need mood regulators for the bipolar aspects, but every time I have a hypomanic episode, I stop taking them so I never have the—”
“Wow, slow down,” he cut in. His heart squeezed at your faster speech. Bipolar disorder was complex, and sometimes depressive symptoms could overlap with hypomanic ones, creating mixed episodes. He was always on the lookout for contradictory behavior in you.
“How much have you spent in the last three days?”
Silence on the other end of the line.
“Dollette,” he grunted. “The fuck?”
“Well, there were tons of sales in Shibuya and Harujuku…”
“That’s not a reason to spend so much in 72 hours.”
“W-What? How do you know?”
“I know my baby.”
“Mhmm, I love it when you call me that.”
“Yeah? Enjoy it while you can because it’ll never happen again.”
“‘KUNA!”
What followed was a passionate conversation about the lace lingerie you had bought, your passion for fashion, ending in tears because nothing was going well in your life and you wanted to die.
“Happiness is a butterfly, Dollette.”
Sukuna knew how to calm you down because his sentence instantly soothed you.
“Happiness is like a butterfly which, when pursued, is always beyond our grasp, but, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you” is a quote that rocked your complicated childhood with Sukuna. Most of Sukuna's tattoos were for you, but the butterfly one was the most special.
“You're right, I should calm down a bit. Rest.”
“You need some dick.”
“You're a fucking slut, don't ever touch me.”
“Oh okay, I thought you wanted that dick when you talked about lingerie.
“You're just my best friend.”
Sukuna tensed, gripping the phone tighter.
Best friend, my ass. The way he cared for you was nothing like the friendship he had with Uraume.
“I guess,” he mumbled, his jaw clenching. “I’ll come cook for you tomorrow. I bet you haven’t had anything homemade in days.”
“Thank you, ‘kuna. Love you a lot.”
“As you should.” Me too.
──────── 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫,
Happiness is a butterfly, and you were desperately chasing after it.
Sometimes your hypomanic episodes were so clever they happened at a natural time.
You'd read a mind-blowing book that gave you a new perspective on life, and bam! You'd buy 300 similar books, change your entire wardrobe because you were a new person, and your heart would race every day because you were bursting with creativity.
It was impossible for you to realize you were spiraling downward; changing your life after a good book seemed valid.
“And then he forced her to give him a blowjob or he'd throw her off a cliff in chapter two, but we learn later in the book it was her kink to be forced, and when they have consensual sex, she begs him not to be gentle with her. So hot, he's a psychopath like you,” you chuckled, rearranging your bookshelves.
“What did he do in chapter 2?”
You turned your head, holding ‘God of Malice’ by Rina Kent. You glared at him, his eyes on your ass.
“You never listen to me. I’ve already told you about Killian Carson. He has the same mind as you, that’s why he’s my book boyfriend.”
“Wow, what a love confession,” Sukuna chuckled, his head buried in your unicorn plushies, his legs spread wide on your bed as he smoked his blunt. He was on vacation and could afford drugs without his agent yelling at him that he was self-sabotaging.
Even if you were hypomanic right now, Sukuna loved you when you were like that.
There was so much color and life in you in those moments. The real you was amplified. Not the schizophrenic you, not the bipolar you. Just you. With your love for dark romance books, your love for cinema, your love for fashion.
It's a shame the mania came with so much suffering for you.
“What do you think of this?” You lifted your skirt to show him the lingerie you'd bought.
A groan echoed through the room, and you twirled around, hoping he'd have a better sight overall.
“C'mere,” he ordered, his voice deep.
His heart yearned for a kiss so bad. A kiss on your thigh to lead to something more sexual.
You sat on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.
With his free hand, he gripped your ass under your skirt, kneading the pillowy flesh.
You talked about something; he guessed about another weird ass man in your romance novels, but his gaze was on your moving lips.
He bit the inside of his cheek, distracted and in love.
His phone rang several times, but he ignored it. He had the girl of his dreams on his lap.
“Wanna redo my dye with me?” he asked, tilting his head to better see your face light up. He fought a smile.
You spent quite a bit of time in the bathroom, black dye all over the sink, but Sukuna relaxed with your fingers in his hair. He stared at you as you focused on applying the chemical perfectly to his roots.
He swore he had never seen a woman prettier and cuter than you.
With long brown braids that reached your hips, your face was framed by layered french curls. Your soft face was adorned with a highlighter with satin pigments, which complemented your white strapless dress with its flowing skirt. The rest of your accessories were black, still very coquettish, with ribbon bows, barrettes, and a headband.
A princess. He wished he could be your prince.
“Shower me and shave me, too. I hurt myself in training,” he lied. He desperately wanted your touch. Desperately wanted to hurt you. Lovingly, tho. In a Sukuna way.
“You were smoking and touching my ass just fine.”
He smirked. “Don’t need any effort for that.”
────────
After a clean body, a shaved face, and a fresh dye, you finally emerge from the bathroom after two hours.
Sukuna grabbed his phone and clutched it tightly when he saw the 36 calls from Megumi.
Megumi never spoke to Sukuna; they had each other's numbers for Yuji.
Dread gripped his heart as he read the numerous messages from Choso and Megumi.
emo boy : i'm too drunk can you drive me home im with yuji
emo boy : no uber is available omg pls sukunaaaaa
emo boy : fine i will try to be careful im so tired i need to tell you what happened i think a girl liked me at the bar :))
megumi : i'm at the hospital rn because your grown ass was lollygagging when your brothers got in a car accident
────────
When you and Sukuna arrived at the hospital, it was too late. Yuji and Choso were already dead; the attempts to make their hearts beat during the emergency surgeries were futile.
“I’m so sorry, ‘kuna,” you tried to say, but he interrupted you.
“Shut the fuck up,” he muttered, elbows on his knees, face in his hands, staring at the floor.
The doctors and nurses were busy dealing with other emergencies now, but they glanced at Sukuna.
Everyone here knew who Sukuna was.
The champion of Rizin. The one who had brought an avalanche of international fans to the Japanese MMA organization. Known for his brutality, the madness in his eyes when he fought, his mocking tone in interviews. The one whose entrances at MMA events garnered millions of views on YouTube.
How would a psychopath like him react to the death of his brothers?
Only you noticed the emotions in him. His legs were restless. His hands were trembling. His voice was harsher because he didn't know how to deal with his loss.
“It's not that deep, stop looking at me like that.”
You drew your lips into a thin line. “Sukuna…”
“I said stop looking at me like that, damn it.”
He stood up abruptly, ignoring you, and left the emergency room to go outside. But when he reached the doors, he saw his parents, stiffened, immediately looking down at the floor. His mother's violent slap didn't make him look up. Nor did her shouts. Nor his father's heavy, disapproving, broken gaze.
“Do you realize what you've done? They're… They're…” His mother placed her hand on his chest, which rose and fell, her cheeks flushed. “I told you we should have given up on him, honey.”
Sukuna's fists clenched as he remained silent, staring at the white floor.
His mother continued talking, but could she really be called a mother? She didn't care about his own loss. She didn't care that Choso had driven drunk. It was all Sukuna's fault, as usual.
Sukuna shoved her with his broad shoulders and left the hospital.
He never liked them, anyway.
Choso was too perfect. Sukuna's parents constantly compared him to him. Because Choso had everything Sukuna lacked: kindness, empathy, compassion, care for his brothers.
He tried to light his lighter, but the wind was in his direction, preventing the flame from igniting. He grunted, his hands trembling even more.
Yuji was a dumb ass. Stupid as fuck. Sukuna didn't know what Megumi loved so dearly about Yuji.
His lighter continued to malfunction, and Sukuna struggled to see where to press his thumb because his vision was blurred. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and he spat out his cigarette. A butterfly fluttered past him. He chuckled at the absurdity of the situation, sniffing. Happiness was a butterfly, but with that loss, he didn't know if he could catch it anymore.
────────
But to better understand Sukuna and his grief, you need to go back in time to where it all began for the two of you.
────────
˚₊‧꒰ა 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞, 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
Being a victim was boring as fuck.
Sukuna's bullies were having fun today. They stole his bento, Sukuna shed some (fake) tears when they gave him more cigarette burns, and now Sukuna was choking.
Mahito laughed hysterically as he pulled Sukuna's hair, his head in the toilet bowl.
Sukuna prepared a terrified expression for when he was freed from the water.
“That'll teach you to help my girlfriend with school. She doesn't need your damn help.”
Bored, Sukuna blinked but then remembered the role he needed to play.
“I-I'm sorry!”
“Yeah, you better be. Now let's go, I hear a teacher coming.”
Mahito and his friends left the bathroom, leaving a soaking wet Sukuna alone.
Sukuna burst out laughing once he was alone.
He shook his head, chuckling. “This is getting ridiculous.”
He grabbed his Cars school bag, the one he shared with his brothers, and left middle school. He'd been teased about his bag when he first arrived, but Yuji's happy smile at sharing something with his older brother was worth all the ridicule in the world.
He glanced at his watch. He needed to pick up Choso from elementary school and Yuji from daycare before his parents got home from work and started yelling at everyone because they were late.
He couldn't care less about disappointing his parents, but he didn't want to end up in foster care like they'd threatened him with ever since he stabbed his cousin.
His family had to move because of the reputation that had developed around the Ryomen family. His parents wanted to give him a chance and were having him see a psychologist.
So he wished he could destroy his bullies and show them real bullying, but if he did that, he could say goodbye to his brothers.
“Why are you all wet?” Choso asked him, accepting the ice cream Sukuna offered.
“I went swimming.”
“It’s winter.”
“Mind your own business and eat.”
Yuji came running up, a ton of new drawings for his family in his bag. Sukuna rolled his eyes at Yuji’s bright, admiring gaze at his two older brothers.
Sukuna ruffled Yuji’s hair and gave him the ice cream he had stolen.
“Tell Mom there was an ice cream sale at elementary school and it slowed me down if she’s upset.”
Yuji shook his head. “I don’t want to lie to Mom.”
“That’s fine, I’ll tell her you wet the bed last night.”
Yuji’s cheeks flushed. “That’s not true!!”
Choso sighed, taking Yuji's hand and walking ahead without Sukuna, who wanted to give them candy (which he had also stolen).
He was stupid. He was a threatening nuisance who needed to be kept away from them.
He threw the candy in a trash can, ignoring his heart pounding painfully before joining his brothers.
────────
Sukuna watched you from his bedroom window.
He wanted to come over and get to know you better. Not out of kindness, but mainly to see which category of people you fell into.
Sukuna sorted humanity into four categories. There were the NPCs. People he had no interest in talking to. The victims. People he enjoyed hurting and found amusing to manipulate for his own gain. There were the "friends”, people who understood him, with whom he could reveal his true madness and still be accepted (Satoru & Uraume). And then, there were the exceptions. The people he desperately sought out; the ones who made him want to live and die all at once because he cared about them so deeply. He hadn't found any of those, aside from his brothers.
You looked like a victim with those ribbons in your hair. A sheep waiting to be devoured by the wolf.
Sukuna’s mother was chatting with the new neighbors in the garden, but it wasn't the lemon tart she was offering them that looked most delicious to Sukuna, it was you.
He should welcome his new neighbors properly, rather than plotting exactly how he would break you.
But you were so pretty. He loved destroying pretty things. He wanted to know what your blood tasted like.
Sukuna had been obsessed with blood and violence since birth.
He didn't practice martial arts for the love of the sport. His body hummed with excitement whenever he heard a grunt caused by a particularly hard blow; he did it to inflict pain.
He hadn't stabbed his cousin with the intention of killing him. His pupils would dilate at the sight of blood flowing from the wound; he did it to witness the damage.
He used to hurt birds and snicker at their attempts to fly away and escape so he would break their wings. He had set up a little torture chamber in the garden shed where his parents never went.
He was forced to put a stop to this barbarity when his parents threatened to abandon him.
Sukuna knew right from wrong, and it was a pain in the ass.
So, so much restraint. All for the sake of his brothers.
His brothers were too young to understand that there was something fundamentally different about them; Sukuna wanted to preserve that innocence.
Sukuna’s impulsiveness was like fire flowing through his veins, setting his whole body ablaze whenever the urge to act became too strong.
His hands trembled with the desire to strangle you and rip the ribbons from your hair just to stomp on them. He wished he could torture birds to relieve the tension.
He grabbed a sheet of paper, drew a sheep on it, and folded it into a paper airplane. He waited until you were alone in the garden next to his before launching it.
You were wandering around your garden barefoot, clutching a large pink unicorn plushie. Sukuna frowned at the sight but sent the plane flying anyway.
He had to wait for you to circle the garden before you stumbled upon the paper. You read it, smiled, and spun around, raising your arms to the sky in thanks.
“What is she doing?” Choso asked, having snuck into Sukuna’s room, before leaning out the window to look as well.
“Dunno.”
──
“I’d like you to be kind to the new neighbors’ child. She’s suffering from depression.”
She didn’t look depressed when she walked barefoot in her garden, smiling up at the sky, Sukuna thought as he ate the maki rolls he’d made with his brothers.
Sukuna’s parents loved their children deeply, and despite the struggles they faced with Sukuna, they moved to avoid a bad reputation, yes, but above all to keep Choso and Yuji from finding out the truth about their older brother. As long as Sukuna kept seeing his therapist and doing things with his brothers, everything should be fine.
No one noticed it but Sukun, watching from the kitchen window, but you were still out walking after nightfall.
──────── 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫,
Just as you laid your head on the pillow to sleep, your mother knocked to let you know it was time for school. You let out a heavy sigh and let your mother tend to you in silence.
Normal eleven-year-olds got themselves ready for school, but you struggled to find the motivation for anything in life.
The only thing that interested you was the Unicorn Goddess and writing her sacred book. The Unicorn Goddess had told you it would silence the demonic shrieks that made you cry at night.
Mom thought you were depressed; with your child’s mind, you struggled to grasp the meaning of the word, but you didn't feel sad.
You were terrified. As you grew older, you had withdrawn from the world, and the demons were closing in on you. Sometimes you could sleep, but at other times the screaming was so loud that you had to sleep with hyperpop blasting in your ears. You needed the Unicorn Goddess to save you.
You reached for your unicorn, but your mother grabbed your hand.
“Baby, you were bullied over this. You need to grow up.”
“But that's my only friend…”
Your mother smiled fondly, as if it were cute and not a sign of childhood schizophrenia.
“I know, my love. But you have to make an effort to fit in at your new school.”
“Fit in? Why? I just want my unicorn.”
“What happened, baby?” Her voice trembled. “You used to be such a cheerful and sociable child. Do you remember your friends Shoko and Utahime?”
You swallowed hard. They had been frightened of you when you told them about the demons at night. They had been kind and defended you against bullies, but they didn't understand you on a fundamental level.
“I'm sorry, Mommy.” You looked at the floor. “I’ll try harder to make friends.”
Your mother’s smile grew wider, even though your heart ached more and more from constantly being misunderstood.
──
After school, you were thinking about what kind of friends you could invent to please your mother. Telling her you’d eaten lunch alone and that classmates thought you were weird would break her heart.
In any case, your dream was to be an actress; embodying and creating characters came easily to you.
You were riding your bike, stopping at a convenience store to pick up some candy for your mom, just in case she discovered your lie. The truth would go down a lot easier with a bit of sugar.
“Hey, ballet-flat girl!”
A male voice called out to you, but you were lost in your own world.
You had developed concentration issues upon starting school. Your parents had you tested for ADHD, but you didn't meet all the criteria.
Someone struggling with dopamine issues, executive dysfunction, and boredom was worlds apart from someone who was simply inattentive because they were lost in their own hallucinatory world.
Still focused on thoughts of the Unicorn Goddess and how she would save you if you kept writing her sacred book, you stowed your purchases in your bag and got back on your bike.
You managed to ride two blocks before someone shoved you violently, knocking you to the ground.
You scraped your knee against the asphalt and froze as you noticed three persons your age looming over you.
Two of them had short white hair. One had a bob cut, and the other had sparkling blue eyes. But the one who really caught your attention was the boy with piercing red eyes and pink hair. He was taller than the others and wore a menacing smirk.
“So, the doll finally notices us?” he muttered, kicking your bike again. “Slash her tires,” he ordered his friends.
“I swear I’m only doing this because he promised me Digimon cards,” the blue-eyed boy blurted out.
“If you want cards, I’ve got plenty. I’m playing a character who’s a fan of them in a play; I wanted to understand his psyche better,” you said softly, rummaging through your bag.
His eyes widened. “No way… What the hell?! This card is so rare!!” He sat down next to you, eyes full of wonder.
“This isn’t what we were supposed to do, dumbass.” The red-eyed boy clenched his fists.
“Kuna, stop it ! She seems really nice!”
“Satoru, I don’t give a fuck.”
The other person hesitated for a few seconds before sitting down on the sidewalk too.
“Not you too, Uraume,” Sukuna sighed.
“My bad, ‘kuna.”
Sukuna fixed his gaze on you, narrowing his eyes. You were wearing black platform Mary Janes with lace trim and tall white socks. Your afro puff was tied back with a ribbon.
“You do theater? You should go to fashion school. Do you think this is Fashion Week or something?”
“F-Fashion what?”
“And she’s dumb. Wow.”
Sukuna waited for you to burst into tears over the bike and his insult. But you barely reacted, as if you were miles away.
His fists clenched and unclenched.
He kicked your bike a third time, breaking a part and making it unusable for the moment. He turned toward you, an unfriendly smile on his face.
“What are you gonna do now?”
You blinked a few times, your expression blank. You stood up, smoothed your skirt, handed a few Digimon cards to Satoru, slung your bag over your shoulder, and walked off down the sidewalk.
Sukuna glared at you. You thought you were special with your nonchalant attitude? He’s going to teach you some manners. He’s going to show you his torture chamber to shock you, then threaten you so you don’t say anything to his parents.
─
“I saw a demon today.”
You were cuddling your unicorn plushie for comfort on your bed.
“Maybe it’s a demon that screams at night. Maybe it needs a little love to stop screaming in pain.”
You got out of bed, still barefoot in your Strawberry Shortcake pajamas, and quietly left your room to press your ear against your parents’ door.
“She has serious inattention issues and doesn’t even react when we call her! Your daughter is severely disabled; she even lost her bike!” your father yelled, as if being disabled were a moral failure.
“She was bullied! She’s doing her best!”
You tensed up, a knot forming in your stomach.
Would they argue even more if you told them about the demons screaming at night? Would they be afraid of you, like Shoko and Utahime?
You took advantage of their argument to perform your favorite ritual for sleepless nights: circling the garden while chanting incantations.
It was important to show respect to the Unicorn Goddess so she would save you from the demons.
─
You were pretty creepy.
You'd walked past Sukuna for over ten laps of the garden but hadn't noticed him because you were so focused on muttering incomprehensible things.
He threw some dirt at you to get your attention.
In the moonlight, you were even prettier and you made his stomach churn.
"Who are you talking to?"
"The Unicorn Goddess."
"Ah, so you're really that weird."
You were about to continue your walk, ignoring him, but Sukuna called to you again.
"Come into my garden, I have something your Unicorn Goddess will love," he lied.
Your eyes lit up, and he helped you through the broken fence that separated your gardens.
Maybe it was Sukuna's love language. To bully, scare, make people cry.
Because he'd never shown his torture chamber to anyone. He swore it was to scare you, but his heart was pounding, as if he hoped your strangeness would make you an exception in his world.
“You’re very hurt,” was all you said when you saw the multiple bloody bird carcasses hidden in his father’s shed. “Take this. This is going to soothe the shrieks.” You gave him your unicorn plushie.
“The shrieks?” he murmured, frowning.
“You’re a demon. I’m haunted by demons. Unicorn Goddess is going to save us,” you said softly. “But you have to whisper; demons always come to haunt us in closed rooms.”
He didn’t understand why you didn’t scream and said he needed to go to foster care. He didn’t understand why you didn’t treat him like a public menace, but like a wounded boy who needed divine healing. He stared at you, speechless, lost.
“Can I kiss you?”
You blinked, looking at the animal carcasses around you. “Um…”
“Yeah, I know. Do you want to be my friend?”
You shrugged, distracted by a butterfly landing on your arm.
Why not?
──────── 𝟒 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫,
Time dragged so slowly in the psychiatric ward.
You spent your time sleeping because of the antipsychotics. They made you gain weight, forcing you to wear those ugly, baggy, blue hospital clothes.
You wouldn't miss the plain walls and floors, the sound of doors opening and closing, or the musty air conditioning once you got out.
Most girls spent the summer before the start of the school year trying to have a "glow-up"; they didn't have psychotic episodes like you did.
The psychiatrist entered your room as you stared outside at the patients who were allowed to go out, unlike you.
“How are you feeling today?”
That stupid ass question they asked every other day. You were a literal zombie with no time to gain perspective on the situation because you were constantly asleep. Yet, they had the audacity to ask that.
“I'm fine.”
“You have visitors in the common room. You’re allowed to go out into the hospital grounds during the visit. You have one hour.”
Your world regained its color and vitality.
You struggled to get out of bed so the psychiatrist helped you to the common room where your group of friends was waiting.
“What did they do to my girl?!” Satoru exclaimed, rushing over to hug you.
“Your girl?” Choso chuckled. “You’re gay.”
“Hi,” Uraume greeted you calmly, rubbing your arm.
Only Sukuna stared at you piercingly without saying a word, before looking away, his hands in his baggy jeans.
He had changed since the eleven-year-old boy who wanted to kiss you in a shed filled with animal carcasses. Now, he struggled a great deal with his feelings, especially guilt, which manifested differently in him than in other people. He remained silent while everyone else laughed, trying to ignore the state you were in. A state that pained everyone, Sukuna included.
Uraume knew their best friend well and decided to leave you alone with Sukuna while the others went to get food from a vending machine.
“You're feeling guilty,” you stated as you sat on a bench, side by side, your thighs touching.
“I'm not,” he mumbled. “Just… Conflicted. I don't know what to do for you to be okay. I don't feel guilty about calling an ambulance for your episode; I'm angry. They don't try to treat you; it’s like they just want you to shut up and not make too much noise for their own comfort.”
“They said I’m probably bipolar but couldn't diagnose me yet because I’m a minor.”
“And they’re giving you huge doses of medication anyway? They’re completely crazy.”
“I wish I had the same condition as you,” you said, resting your head on his shoulder. “You channel your energy easily. Finding out that my stories about demons were actually auditory hallucinations was disorienting.”
“Mind you, I believed you.”
“No you didn't; you saved me as ‘schizoaffective baddie’ in your contacts.”
“Alright… Acting like being a baddie with mental illness is a fatal character flaw.”
“It really is. I had an audition for a movie today,” you pouted.
Sukuna patted your head.
“You were unlucky today, but you’ll win all the acting awards later on. A talented, schizophrenic, bipolar actress only comes along once every thousand years.”
“Don't go romanticizing the thing that's ruining my life.”
“Wait ‘till you hear what I think about psychopathy.”
You chuckled but stopped when you remembered the face of your mother when she heard you had schizophrenic traits and not depression.
“I'm such a disappointment,” you whispered. “Mommy is weird with me now.”
You missed when she would be so caring with you when she thought you were just depressed. Now, there is hurt in her eyes as if having mental illness was a betrayal.
“Mom can't stand me too.” Sukuna took your hands, intertwining you fingers. “But it's okay, you're not a disappointment to me.”
“That's not a compliment coming from you.”
“The fuck?”
Your shoulders shook with your laugh.
The need for belonging somewhere and the desire to be cuddled by someone who saw your flaws and chose to cherish them nonetheless shaped your life together. It's kind of funny you found solace with someone as hurt and mentally ill as you.
──────── 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫,
“Happy birthday, ‘kuna,” you breathed on his neck.
You had climbed the wall just before midnight to arrive on time. But you raised an eyebrow when you saw dark hair instead of his pink.
“What are you doing here?” he grumbled, his voice sleepy. He hadn't opened his eyes but recognized your scent. He let out a groan when he felt your softness against him. His hands went under your skirt to grab your ass, kneading your ample flesh.
“That's not your gift.”
“That's fucking enough f’me, just need some bonus tits.”
He turned you around so he was lying on top of you. He leaned down to place soft kisses on your neck. You shivered; it was the first time a man had touched you like that.
Sukuna had often had his hand on your ass, but he had never kissed your body before today. “S-Sukuna, what are you doing?”
He added his tongue to the kisses, and the sucking. A wave of heat surged through your stomach, and you wanted even more, wanting to experience something normal in your daily life as a mentally ill teenager. But not with Sukuna.
“S-Stop.”
“Why? You shake at my touch. And I’m doing nothing. Needy slut.”
You slapped Sukuna, stiffening at his insult. But he said that on purpose, because he smirked.
“I’m into that. Let’s hurt each other.”
“Sukuna, you’re not my type.”
Sukuna's eyes squinted.
“What is your type?”
“Suguru. Calm. Gentle. Girl dad energy.”
“Suguru is fucking gay,” he glared at you. “What type of energy do I give?”
You looked at his muscular chest, his piercing red gaze and his broad shoulders. You gulped, looking away. You will never say it to his face.
“Wow, you're the shy type in bed. Interesting. I need to adapt,” he let out a mocking laugh but his affection was evident in the way he stroked your thigh.
“No need to adapt, I told you this isn't your gift.” You tried to get out of his grip to get his present from your bag.
“Why are you acting like I'm some average guy? I don't give a damn about your gift. Give me your body.”
Tears prickled in the corners of your eyes and he let out a heavy sigh as if you were a burden.
“I had a bad day, don’t start.”
You sniffled. “I spent hours on it, ‘kuna.”
“And how is that my problem? I asked for nothing. My parents stopped giving me gifts since I stabbed that boy. I don't care about my birthday.”
You wrapped your arms around him, holding him tight.
“But you give me amazing gifts.” You nuzzled him.
For your birthday this year, Sukuna made a scrapbook listing all your favorite movies. Sukuna wasn't very creative, so he asked his brothers for help to make it look nice. Last year, it was about your favorite books, and when you were younger, he made a book himself out of paper to list your favorite recipes. He always needed other people to help make the gift less impersonal, but the love and affection in the thought of the gift came from him.
“It's to manipulate you into giving me your body, don't get it twisted.”
“Maybe I want you to twist my body.”
He froze.
He flirted with you constantly, and when he wasn't doing it seductively, he did it meanly. He was capable of asking you to kiss him and bullying you within the span of less than twenty-four hours.
But you never gave in. Until now.
“I thought your type was gay ass men. Lunatic as fuck.”
“I just don't think you're the right man for the life I want.”
He suppressed an eye roll, his tongue tucked against the inside of his cheek.
Your bullshit about being a mom pissed him off. You always talked about this. Motherhood. Everyone found it touching that a sixteen-year-old girl knew what she wanted so early in life. Sukuna was the only one who felt like vomiting at the idea.
“You will never be a mom because you're gonna be my fucking wife. And we will have a great child-free life.”
He crushed his lips against yours. You burst into sobs. You wanted that life with him. Being with someone who understood your weird, darker parts. But you desperately wanted to belong somewhere. Maybe if you were a mom, your own mother wouldn't be disappointed in your mental state anymore? Maybe society would stop seeing you as a poor victim of psychosis. You would have control.
“No, you won't. You just won't. Baby, sometimes you don't have the motivation to brush your teeth and I do it for you,” he whispered against your mouth, reading your thoughts because he was intimately connected to you.
“I’ll be a new person for this.”
“Something psychotic people like you love to say, and everyone laughs.”
“Fuck you.”
“Bitch, I am fucking you.”
You wanted to protest, but the roll of his hips pressing his erection against you silenced any urge to stand up for yourself.
“Sukuna, I’ve never done this.”
He wiped away the tears of frustration streaming down your cheeks. “Me neither.”
“You—What?!”
“You're the only girl that matters; I will never touch anyone else.”
Your expression softened, and you accepted him.
His kisses trailing along your thick thighs. His odd way of trying to go down on you through your cotton panties made you laugh. His fingers touching the deepest parts of your body. You swore he had access to your heart, as you clung to him as if your life depended on it.
His fingers moved in and out of you, like a romantic dance without any sudden, frantic speed. He was trembling, as if aroused, or holding back the urge to be rough, or a mix of both. Either way, you were grateful he was making an effort and not giving in to his sadistic fantasies right away.
You wanted to please him too, so your hands roamed over his chest, tracing the ridges of his abs.
He smiled against your lips; butterflies took flight in your stomach.
But the door suddenly flew open, and Sukuna’s mother looked on with surprise and concern as Sukuna’s hand pulled away from between your legs.
An awkward silence hung in the air for a few moments before you grabbed your bag and left Sukuna’s room.
“I didn't know you were his girlfriend.”
“I'm just his best friend. We were a bit lost tonight,” you said politely to his mother, accepting the glass of orange juice she handed you.
“I know you love my son very much, but I need to warn you: he’s not the man for you. He’s violent, selfish, and a literal psychopath.”
You gazed out at the garden, trying to escape the uncomfortable conversation.
“Thanks, but I’m already aware of that. I know what he did to his cousin.”
“And you still talk to him?”
“So what? Am I supposed to stay away from him because of something he didn't ask for? He hasn't hurt anyone since that incident. You spend all your time threatening to abandon him. Sukuna is suffering so much in silence.”
Sukuna’s mother flushed with anger. “You’re sixteen; you can’t understand. I’m doing what’s best for my family. And Sukuna is no longer part of it.”
You flinched and covered your mouth to stifle a gasp of surprise when you saw Sukuna in the doorway. He held a finger to his lips, and you gave a discreet nod.
“Sukuna is an anomaly in our genetic makeup, I don’t know what happened... he was born completely unhinged. Even his mixed martial arts coach tells him he’s too violent. But Sukuna won’t listen to a thing...”
“You do realize when you talk like that you make me feel...”
“No, not you,” she reassured you. “You’re the good kind of crazy. It’s absolutely not your fault that you deal with schizophrenia and manic episodes. Sukuna is a danger to the public. I’m sure he’ll end up in prison. He needs to be a bit more like Choso. He’s truly the perfect child.”
You glanced over to where Sukuna had been, but he was gone.
With a knot in your stomach, you knew he had heard what his mother said, and you understood why he had dyed his hair black—he wanted to look like the ideal brother. Choso.
──────── 𝟖 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫,
˚₊‧꒰ა 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲, 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
“Why them and not him?”
“God took the wrong brothers.”
“Sukuna is an abomination to the Ryomen.”
Sukuna remained silent as he walked through the room, hands in the pockets of his baggy jeans, yet he heard everything being said at the funeral.
He agreed with them. It should have been him.
He had nothing but violence to offer humanity; being an MMA celebrity was merely putting glitter and paint over a foundation of rotten wood. Sukuna was rotten to the core. He had known that for a long time. But in the days following Choso and Yuji’s deaths, he was suffocating under a reality he couldn't bring himself to acknowledge: he should have killed himself long ago to spare his family the suffering, but he was too selfish to do it. Rotten.
Sukuna had wept at the news of their deaths, though it wasn't as if he cared all that much about his family.
He listened to the Buddhist priest chanting the sutras, wondering if he would have the privilege of having his spirit guided like that when he died.
When the attendees stepped forward to offer incense and say prayers for Yuji and Choso, he went outside to smoke, sitting on the steps.
What he was doing was incredibly rude. That was surely why no one had spoken to him during the otsuya tradition. (the Japanese wake held the evening before the funeral, where the deceased's family receives comfort through offerings)
A noise caught his attention; he turned toward you as you stepped out of a taxi, trying to push your way through the paparazzi. They were forbidden from approaching the funeral itself, so they lingered outside the building, hoping to snap a photo of at least one of the two celebrities in attendance.
“I'm so sorry, Sukuna!!!” you apologized profusely, bowing your head exaggeratedly. Sukuna smirked, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.
“What’s your excuse for being late on the most tragic day of my life?”
“I… I had hallucinations and had a panic attack.”
His eyes softened and he opened his arms for you to sit on the steps between his legs, which you did gladly.
He rested his chin on your shoulder. “I left during oshōkō.” (when they gave incense offerings and prayers)
You gasped. “You give the idea you don't care about them when you do that, Sukuna.”
“Yeah, because I don't.” He pressed your back even tighter against his chest.
“I saw you trembling that day.”
Sukuna stiffened. “It was just shock. I don't give a damn about them.”
“What about accepting Mahito's bullying so you wouldn't be abandoned by your parents? What about your dark hair, just to be a better brother to them? What about—”
He crushed the lit end of his cigarette against the brown skin of your arm. You cried out in pain, and he sneered.
“Now, shut your damn mouth.”
He wrapped his arms around you, but you held your breath as you noticed the cigarette burn scars on his skin. Your heart ached every time you saw them. Physical manifestations of a time when he was desperate enough to do anything to avoid being separated from his brothers.
“Mahito was cruel,” you said softly, caressing his scars.
“No more cruel than me. Who else could attempt murder at ten years old like I did?”
Your giggle warmed his heart. He leaned down to kiss your neck, his warm lips peppering kisses all over you. Several camera flashes bothered him, and he lifted his head to glare at them.
“Don't do anything that could damage my reputation; I start filming my movie tomorrow.”
“Is there a kiss with a man in the movie?”
“There’s even a sex scene.”
He burned you with the cigarette again.
“Sukuna, stop!”
“You're a fucking virgin. Why would you ever do that?”
“Do you have to kill someone to play a murderer?”
“Well, yeah. Where do I sign up for the role?”
You rolled your eyes and straightened yourself up. He adjusted your skirt for you and kissed your knees.
“I’m going to bring flowers to your brothers.”
“What about me? I’m grieving. I need gifts.”
“I remember clearly being heartbroken because I wanted to give you a gift—”
“And I was heartbroken because I wanted to fuck you.”
“You lied that day. You deserve it.”
“Lied?”
There was no way you were going to let him know that you had wanted to be his first, or that you cherished the moment he said he wouldn't touch anyone else. Because he lied. Sukuna always lied. You hated the man you loved.
You smacked him on the head with your bag and ignored his insults as you walked into the building.
──────── 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫,
“You stink,” Satoru complained, downing a glass of vodka while his eyes remained fixed on his best friend.
Sukuna fiddled with his tie. A pathetic attempt to look put-together and hide his distress. But everyone noticed it: the dark circles under his eyes, his disheveled hair, his lack of hygiene.
“He’s been like that since the photo with Nanami,” Uraume admitted.
Sukuna glared at the people in the bar who were watching them with admiration. Satoru was a well-known public figure, a bit like Vinnie Hacker; he ran a YouTube channel where he posted commentary and reviews of anime. His good looks brought him a lot of visibility, and the fact that his boyfriend, Suguru, was a rockstar played a huge part, too. Sukuna hated how popular they were, both in Tokyo and internationally.
“Don’t talk about that!” Sukuna slammed his fist onto the bar counter. “I’m trying to forget that thing.”
“I’ve found Sukuna’s kryptonite!” Satoru let out a mocking laugh, brandishing the photo of you kissing Nanami in a café.
Sukuna growled and grabbed Satoru by the collar of his T-shirt, shoving him against the nearest wall. He landed a lightning-fast punch that made Satoru’s head spin, yet Satoru lifted his head, nose bleeding, and smiled.
“You love that girl so bad.”
Satoru didn’t get it. Nobody could get it.
It wasn’t about love, affection, or grief. It was about him. Always about him. Sukuna was selfish.
If Choso and Yuji were dead and you had a boyfriend now, who would be his exception? Who would be there to make him feel like he belonged somewhere, despite his broken brain? Who would be his butterfly?
He was so angry. He hated you and his brothers. He had tasted that human emotion, and now he was hooked. If he had no one left now, he might as well go completely mad.
He kept striking Satoru, who grunted and spat blood onto Sukuna’s face. The blows rained down. A futile attempt to vent his rage, for it would never be enough. A psychopath’s soul is greedy; he wanted to possess you and his brothers so that you would always be with him.
Uraume managed to stop Sukuna just as Satoru collapsed unconscious to the floor, amidst the screams of the bar patrons.
Sukuna stared at his bloodied fist, realizing just how right his mother had been to want to abandon him, for he felt no guilt whatsoever for having hurt his best friend.
─
Suguru’s eyes shot daggers when Sukuna entered the hospital room.
“What the fuck?”
“He pissed me off,” Sukuna yawned and slumped into a chair, manspreading. He looked at Satoru’s sleeping, bandaged face and chuckled. “He’s gonna be pissed when he wakes up.”
“I’m going to make him press charges against you.”
“Ooh, I’m scared. Emo boy is gonna ruin my career.”
“Are you always like this?” Suguru tensed.
“Worse in bed.”
Suguru ignored the remark and stroked Satoru’s arm. He knew his boyfriend was crazy and would forgive Sukuna, even if it made him mad.
Sukuna thought it was stupid to care that much about someone else until he remembered that he would commit genocide if anyone ever laid a hand on you.
Sukuna received a Google notification on his phone.
“Dollette and Nanami Kento: the new hit couple who met on the set of their new film have made it official!”
He hurled his phone against the wall. Suguru jumped, looking at Sukuna as if he were insane.
Sukuna placed the apology candy and chocolates he’d bought on the bed before walking out. He needed to fuck and hurt someone.
──────── 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫,
“Does he know about your mental illness?”
Heat rushed to your cheeks as you took the phone off speaker.
“Sukuna, I’m getting my makeup done for a photoshoot; don't say things like that.”
“So that’s a no,” he chuckled on the other end of the line.
“Well, it’s kind of scary to tell someone, ‘Hey, I have schizoaffective disorder, it’s a mix of schizophrenia and bipolar disorder!’”
“I don’t see the problem. Everyone knows you’re mentally ill.”
“He thinks I’m a tortured artist. He doesn’t understand how sick I really am. I don’t know how to tell him. It’s like you really want me to tell him so he’ll leave me.”
“Exactly. You’ve found me out.”
You hung up on him and let your makeup artist make you look beautiful.
Sukuna loved sabotaging your relationships a bit too much, but you weren’t going to let him do that with Nanami.
Nanami was the perfect man. Gentle. Someone who wanted a family. Serious.
Everything Sukuna wasn’t.
‘Have a good day, love.’
Butterflies took flight in your belly whenever Nanami texted you; you’d chat with him for a few moments before receiving a message from Sukuna and losing your smile.
‘He’d find the Unicorn Goddess cringe. Would she even want to save him? We’re her favorites.’
‘Those were schizophrenic delusions, ‘Kuna.’
‘And yet, I feel like you saved me anyway when you gave me that plushie. Maybe it was real.’
No.
He lied; he was a manipulator.
Just a few days earlier, he had deliberately sent you a sex tape of himself and Yorozu, pretending he’d sent it to the wrong person.
You were in a relationship, yet seeing your best friend fucking another girl made you want to cry. Because he had said you were the only one who mattered.
You didn't reply to the message, leaving it on "read."
After a busy day, you had a date with Nanami and were spending the night with him.
His face was gentle. He didn't have Sukuna's tough look which gave him such an intimidating aura, or those piercing red eyes that sent shivers down your spine.
Everything was so calm with Nanami.
He kissed your entire body as if you were a being to be cherished, not conquered like Sukuna did. Every moan was earned, not taken by force. Every caress was a genuine touch, not a form of manipulation.
But you covered your breasts with your hands, not because you were insecure, but because Nanami lacked that feverish gaze Sukuna had when he looked at you. You didn't know if you were truly wanted. If you really belonged here, in this bed with him.
After sleeping with Nanami for the first time, you lay in the dark regretting your actions, his arms wrapped around your waist.
He was fast asleep when the darkness of the room began to suffocate you, with demons crawling across your back. Paralyzed and terrified, their limbs left a slimy fluid trickling over your skin. You trembled in discomfort, unable to speak, your clothes feeling too tight.
Tears welled up in your eyes, and it wasn't until the screams, the ones you were so used, rang out that you finally snapped back to reality.
You tried to break free from Nanami’s embrace, but he was holding you tight against him. You sobbed even harder.
You shook him, waking him abruptly.
You said something in a panic, but your words made no sense. He turned on the bedside lamp and stared at you, frowning.
“Did you have a nightmare? It's okay, Dollette. Do you want some tea?”
The demonic shrieks grew in intensity, and you hyperventilated, choking on your tears.
“D-Dollette, I—”
You froze, staring at something in the room that Nanami couldn't see. The look of horror on your face unnerved Nanami; he didn't understand what was happening. You let out a scream of terror and leapt out of bed, running out of Nanami’s room.
He followed close behind, worried.
“Dollette!”
You rushed out of the apartment and scrambled down the stairs, gasping for breath, still in your pajamas and barefoot. Once outside, you ran through the streets looking for a garden where you could circle around and perform your incantations.
You only remember running for a long time, because when you woke up, you were in the hospital.
“W-What happened?” you asked the nurse who had come to change your IV drip.
“You had an episode. We have to wait for the doctor to prescribe the right medication. How are you feeling? Can you tell me today's date?”
“Oh—”
A noise to your left made you stop and turn your head, staring at the wall for several long seconds.
“Miss Dollette?”
“Excuse me,” you whispered, embarrassed. “Could I have some headphones and my MP3 player?”
“Of course. Someone with dark hair dropped off a lot of your things.”
She went to get your belongings, and you drifted off to sleep listening to the hyperpop music that soothed your anxiety. But you were jolted awake by the panicked voices of nurses surrounding you.
“But there was no history of suicidal behavior noted in her medical file...”
“Ms. Dollette, we have to follow protocol; we’re going to put diapers on you to make things easier for everyone.”
Before you could even protest, they were undressing you and restraining your hands.
“What did I do wrong?” you asked in a trembling voice, recognizing the procedure.
“You tried to strangle yourself with your earbuds; we found them wrapped around your neck while you were asleep.”
“They just got tangled—”
“You have a schizoaffective profile; it’s only natural that you wouldn't understand yourself...”
You stopped listening, recognizing that kind of attitude.
Once you were labeled psychotic, people assumed that everything you said was just the ramblings of a schizophrenic who couldn't be trusted. No matter how intelligent or relevant your point was, being psychotic meant your ability to be heard was compromised.
The humiliation of having to pee on yourself was something you hadn't missed about the hospital since you were fifteen.
──────── 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫,
“Why the fuck did you call an ambulance?” Sukuna yelled.
Nanami’s tense face remained unreadable as he adjusted his tie.
“She seemed to need medical help.”
“They constantly mistreat her. In a psych ward, they treat you like an animal if you aren't just depressed or anxious. What kind of world do you live in not to know that?!”
Nanami focused on the mental health posters on the psychiatric ward's blue walls.
“You really aren't the guy she needs.”
“I don't want to hear criticism from a man who disfigured his own friend in front of everyone,” Nanami said flatly, remembering the Satoru incident that went viral even after this, he said Sukuna was still his brother and we should move on.
“So what?” Sukuna smirked. “At least I would’ve run after her to comfort her and tell her they were just hallucinations. You chose to be a fucking pussy and call emergency services, just to humiliate her.” His voice barely concealed his venom.
“She wasn't on a regular treatment plan; that’s extremely dangerous.”
“She just needs headphones, a garden, and emergency antipsychotics for when the episode gets too intense.”
“But she’s also bipolar; that’s what the doctors said.”
“Who gives a shit about that?” Sukuna shoved Nanami, his hands on the other man's shoulders. “I’ll be the one handling her finances and advising her if she’s manic and wants to buy a bunch of stuff. She’s hypomanic, not in a full-blown manic episode with paranoia. Stop seeing her as a woman with no autonomy,” he added defensively, cracking his knuckles and getting ready to fight.
“I see you’ve got mental health issues too.”
His smirk widened into a grin. “Hell yeah. You scared?” He tilted his head.
A noise interrupted them as you leaned against the wall, making your way toward the hospital’s common room. Sukuna turned pale when he saw you and rushed over to pull you into his arms.
“Those motherfuckers are dead, you know that, baby?” He kissed your forehead. “This is literally medical abuse. You don’t need that much medication.”
You shrugged, still groggy from your nap. “I just need a few minutes to wake up.”
Nanami watched you, realizing he was intruding; he set his flowers down on a chair before leaving. Sukuna tossed them in the trash, taking advantage of your disoriented state.
“When you were running, you were looking for a garden, right? To walk around and pray?” Sukuna asked as you sat down.
You nodded mechanically, your head resting on his shoulder.
“Dollette, there’s a way out of this. Don’t be so spaced out.”
“Since when are you so optimistic about life?”
“I’m angry and happy. Happy that Nanami failed at being a good boyfriend so I have to step up, angry because you’re being abused. Is it true they forced you to wear a diaper, like you said in your text?”
You winced.
“In the emergency unit, yes. But I’m spending a few weeks here, and they haven’t put me in one.”
“I’m really gonna kill them.”
“Sukuna, it’s really sweet of you to come, but I want to continue my relationship with Nanami.”
Sukuna’s eyes widened.
“Dollette, he literally sent you to hell.”
“He didn’t know. Not everyone knows that psychiatric wards are horrible.”
Sukuna’s body vibrated with anger, and he let out a mocking laugh. “You think you found your man and you’re gonna leave me?”
You regained a bit of energy and pushed him away. “I need to get my life together.”
“Do it with me!” He grabbed your wrists to pull you up and stormed into the restroom, forcing you to follow him.
“Let go of me!” you shouted, but he locked the two of you inside the wheelchair-accessible stall.
“Fuck me, then. Because you aren’t giving Nanami a baby without giving me a taste of your pussy first. I can tell you that.”
“That’s all you ever think about; it’s always like that with you!” Tears welled up in your eyes and you tried to punch him, but he hoisted you up and forced you onto the sink.
“Awww, are you mad because I’m not romantic like your Nanami? What does he do better than me besides that, huh?” he snapped, radiating a terrifying aura with fury in his eyes. He slapped your thigh hard. “Stop crying; you piss me off.”
You slapped him back, your tears intensifying.
He grinned, rubbing his cheek, aroused. “I missed this.” He knelt before you and kissed your calves, moving up to your thighs. “You’re lost, ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱. You think a baby will heal you? Since you were born, you’ve kept talking about being saved and healed. When are you going to embrace who you are?”
The shock of hearing your real name after years kept you from pushing his hand away in time before it slid beneath your skirt.
With clammy hands, you bunched up your skirt and tried to ignore his fingers caressing the wet warmth between your thighs. You cleared your throat as a wave of heat rose deep within you—an explosive cocktail mixed with your tears.
“You don’t embrace a life-ruining illness; you treat it.”
“There’s no cure for schizophrenia, baby. You just have to aim for remission, but you’ll always be scared of a new episode. So learn to love yourself. Screaming demons might turn into silent ghosts, but they’ll still be ghosts haunting you. A baby won’t change that.”
“So what’s your solution?” You sniffled. “Loving myself won’t stop the delusions, hallucinations, and negative symptoms of schizophrenia.”
“Your solution is me.” Your arousal soaked the fabric of your panties, and he slipped his fingers underneath. “Your body agrees with me; she is so wet.”
The feverish heat between your legs tightened around his fingers as he moved them in and out. They were big, calloused, and tattooed as if the devil’s own hands were penetrating you. But if you looked too closely, you’d see the cigarette burns on his arms all over again. You were thinking back to your childhood with him, how he is your only safe place and you didn't want to.
“You can't cure me, Sukuna,” you whined. His thumb on your clit sent an electric jolt through your body.
“I don't want to cure you; I think you're perfect like this. Society just wants us to be ashamed of who we are, and I don't buy that bullshit.” He kissed your inner thighs, pushing your panties to the side. “I’ll buy you a house with the biggest garden ever for your hallucinations. I’ll keep a stock of antipsychotics in case they get too intense, but I’ll never call those motherfuckers to drug you. I’ll help you with your chores when you lose your motivation and help you connect with the outside world when you don't want to leave the house. That’s what I’ve been doing for thirteen years, isn't it?”
“You spent years having sex with Yorozu; you never focused on me. You promised you wouldn't touch anyone but me.”
Your sobs were the only sound in the room.
Sukuna lifted his head, his eyes narrowing. “Because a certain bitch didn't want me in case you forgot, dumbass.”
“Stop insulting me,” you sniffled, your voice trembling.
“You deserve it. Why do I have to force you to even look at me?” He parted your lips. “You shaved for him but not for me. Who is your safe place, huh?”
“No, it means I don't care about you.”
“Me when I lie,” he laughed quietly, his hot breath caressing your cunt.
He lifted your skirt so you could see him clearly and sank his tongue inside you, grabbing your thick thighs to hoist them onto his shoulders. He lapped between your folds, groaning at the taste of you. A taste he’d waited years to discover. Pleasure coursed through your body; you shivered at the divine sensation of his licks on your throbbing bud, your back arching away from the mirror.
Your phone rang, and your hands clenched when you saw it was the man you were cheating on.
“Nanami, I-I’m a little busy.”
Sukuna paused, glaring at you, but remained silent.
“It’s okay; I wanted to let you know we’re having dinner at my parents’ place when you get out of the psychiatric ward.”
Your heart swelled with joy. You belonged somewhere. You were going to be a mom. Everything was okay.
“You aren’t uncomfortable with me?”
“No, of course not. It’s not your fault.”
You grinned. Your body was warm with the feeling that you mattered, not from Sukuna’s tongue. You were about to push Sukuna’s head away when your smile suddenly vanished.
“I told them you had some drug issues because of the pressure, don’t worry. No need to tell them about your mental health struggles.”
Your vision blurred again. “W-Why?”
There was silence on the line for a few seconds before Nanami sighed.
“I don’t think… I want to be associated with… You know…”
“See?” Sukuna murmured against you as you sobbed, hanging up on Nanami. “You have nowhere to go. It will always be me.”
Your chest heaved frantically, racked by your breakdown.
Happiness is a butterfly, and you had spent your whole life chasing it.
But if the butterfly was a psychopath, what were you supposed to do?
Relax and wait for it to land on you, the way you would with those insects?
Sukuna straightened up, and instead of stopping because you were clearly distressed (like a normal person would) he crushed his lips against yours. You fought against him, stifled by his kiss, but he grabbed your hands and pinned them behind his back.
“Stop fighting it, dammit. Nobody will love you more than me.”
You could breathe a little easier at that declaration of love, your gaze softening. But it would never be enough. Sukuna would never be enough to bridge the gap separating you from other, non-psychotic women. Even if Sukuna loved you madly, unless you worked on yourself, you would always feel like you belonged nowhere. The void was something that had to be filled from within, not by love from the outside.
Fuck it, honestly. Just fuck it; you were exhausted.
Craving connection, you wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him back.
“Fucking lunatic,” he quipped against your lips.
He unbuttoned his jeans and stripped off his lower clothes. He took his thick cock in his hands, rubbing the pierced tip against your clit as a gasp escaped your lips at the sight of its size and the piercing.
“When are you going to admit I’ve got big dick energy?”
You knew what he was referring to. That almost-first time back when you were sixteen. “You’re so corny,” you smiled fondly, still tearful.
“You’re really a lunatic, baby.” He nibbled your lower lip and plunged into your tight heat just as his tongue entered your mouth. “To be totally honest… I only showered today because I wanted to look presentable for you. I don’t know what’s happening to me, but I’ve lost weight. I changed fighter weight classes in Rizin.”
Feeling so full, you stammered repeatedly, eliciting a chuckle from the man who (you weren't even sure if he was your boyfriend anymore) was holding you.
“It’s depression, Sukuna. You lost your brothers.”
“Shut up, I didn’t even like them.”
Your tongues tangled in an intimate, passionate dance, punctuated by your gasps. He thrust his hips to hit the depths of your glistening pussy; the sound of wet friction made you feel shy. But not Sukuna; once you’d adjusted to his size, he set a brutal pace.
“Oh my god,” you moaned softly, clawing at the back of his neck and clinging to him, your fat thighs wrapped around his waist.
“Mmh, yeah,” he groaned, each roll of his hips sending tremors through your core. “The Unicorn God and whatever that schizophrenic shit of yours was.”
Mortified and embarrassed, you tried to push him away, but he shoved you violently against the mirror, which shattered on impact. That didn’t stop Sukuna; he pressed your back against the shards of glass, which dug into your skin. You cried out in pain, but his eyes gleamed just as they did when he was fighting—lit up at the sight of blood flowing from your wounds.
“Hell yeah.”
“You’re genuinely so scary…”
“You aren’t scared at all; you’re pulsing around me.”
Your toes curled and uncurled frantically as he thrust into you. You struggled to remember what kind of building you were in, so completely did the way he was fucking you transform your world into intense, warm colors.
With his hands on your lower back and love handles, he shifted your position so your head and neck rested against the sink, holding your body firmly. You clung to the surrounding walls to keep from falling, moaning plaintively each time your back scraped against the edge of the basin. Sukuna’s cock grew harder at every sound of pain, his mouth watering at the thought of being the cause of your suffering.
The blend of blood, love, pain, and pleasure was the perfect metaphor for being with Sukuna. You couldn’t wait to get out of the psychiatric ward and let him fuck you in positions where you could hold him close and feel him right against you.
You had been heartbroken just minutes ago, but now you felt so alive.
It was no longer a question of belonging somewhere.
But of belonging to someone.
And you had your answer.
──────── 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫,
˚₊‧꒰ა 𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
You stepped out of the psychologist’s office, wiping away your tears. Sukuna was waiting for you, leaning against his black car with anti-paparazzi tinted windows. His tie was undone, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, and his hair tousled. You were a mess together.
“Should I kill your therapist? Why are you crying?” he asked; there was no worry in his voice, only anger that someone other than him had dared to hurt you. Your body, your tears, your whole soul belonged to him.
“We just talked a lot about my self-esteem issues; it was truly liberating. I feel better.” You snuggled up to him, seeking his warmth.
The drive home was silent.
Both you and Sukuna were suffering a great deal at the moment.
Sukuna was increasingly realizing that he would never see his younger brothers again, and he still struggled to take care of himself because of his suicidal ideation. Living with you was part of what made him feel alive. You would wake him up for his MMA training, cook his meals, and run his bath.
You hadn’t yet found the right mood-stabilizing medication, so you still experienced depressive and hypomanic episodes. Sukuna managed your finances and did his best not to frustrate you, while being careful not to enable your troubled behavior. He handled the unpleasant household chores, like cleaning. He would call to remind you to take your medication when you were away on a shoot.
From the outside looking in, you were struggling a lot.
But there was so much tenderness. You understood and supported each other, taking care of one another on the road to remission.
“Which one did Yuji prefer?” you asked softly, sitting between his legs as his arms wrapped around you.
“The first one.” After coming home, Sukuna felt exhausted from the MMA event with multiple fights in a single day so he went straight to bed. Wanting to comfort him, you decided to watch Cars, the movie that connected him to his brothers. You stroked his hands in silence, feeling his tears trickle down onto your neck.
Grief was complicated to process when you had a neurodivergent brain.
He kept saying he didn’t care about his brothers that he only missed them because they loved him yet he couldn't stop dyeing his hair black. He was desperate to feel a connection to Choso however he could.
Yorozu didn’t understand how Sukuna worked. She wanted to "fix" him with her love, failing to realize there was nothing to fix, only things to embrace and accept. She had tried to seduce him anyway, even after the two of you were officially together and Twitter had blown up over it. Sukuna punched her.
You weren't trying to change your boyfriend; you were trying to stop chasing an ideal.
You let yourself simply live, waiting for the butterfly to land on you. No chasing. Non-sedating medication, tailored therapy, care, and love—that was what you needed; no more running after something.
Sukuna laid you down on the bed when you dozed off before the movie ended, pressing his body against yours. He breathed in the scent of the cocoa butter cream on your skin, his cock hardening.
“Dollette, wake up. I need you.”
You chuckled sleepily and turned over, facing away from him.
“As if that’s going to stop me.”
He still made love to you that night.
And every other night.
Because it’s always been you.
──────── ✃- - - - - - - - - - - you liked it ? please support fics you liked with a reblog or a comment ! writers never know how we impact you if you don't say anything <3 ── .✦
⤷ 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙛𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙤𝙟𝙞 - the man who always makes sure to help out anyone in need even if he's off duty like, simply helping a old woman cross the street whilst holding your daughter in his arms and your hand as well. you love that he never misses a chance to help those in need.
⤷ 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙛𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙤𝙟𝙞 - the man who always makes sure to let you know how long he’ll be gone at work. making sure to leave with the packed lunch that you made him every-morning. kissing your lips softly to wake you as he was on his way to leave for work. chuckling at your groggily state at first as you jumped up to kiss him goodbye properly.
⤷ 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙛𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙤𝙟𝙞 - fucks you slow on some nights to ease your worries of him possibly being injured at work. he would whisper in your ear sweet nothings as he slowly yet deeply stroked his muscular hips against your plump ass in doggy-style. hoisting your neck with one of his strong arms, softly biting your ear and shushing you each time you let a out moan that was too loud that might wake your five year old up.
⤷ 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙛𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙤𝙟𝙞 - always sharing the food you made him with his co-workers as they all seem to love the food you make. he would come home and tell you about all the nice things they’ve said about it. you would later find yourself making more bigger portions in his lunch so he can eat some as well since he told you that sometimes they eat it all from him.
⤷ 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙛𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙤𝙟𝙞 - who reads his daughter a bedtime on some occasional nights per to her request that he needs read her bedtime stories because it’s the only time she really to gets to see her father. of course toji couldn’t say no to his little mini me so, he did just that. he cherished even the days she wants to spend with him when he’s not at work since he has time off every other month.
⤷ 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙛𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙤𝙟𝙞 - who came home late one night in distraught, waking you out of your sleep with his wails as you hurried out of the bed and ran downstairs passing your daughters room as she too got out of her bed in a little bit of a struggle to seeing him sitting on the floor with his head in his hands. his attire being dirty as the room was filled with the scent of burning rubber. you would walk over to him slowly as you would bend down and pull his face up to see him. his eyes were bloodshot red as a look of worry graced your features. you would ask him ‘what’s wrong’ and ‘what happened’ as he would go on and tell you about how he couldn’t save the last person in the house fire whilst degrading himself as you only held him tighter not caring if your pjs got dirty. your daughter emerged from the staircase and soon joined the hug telling her daddy that he’s not a failure.
⤷ 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙛𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙤𝙟𝙞 - would sometimes bring your daughter with him to work as he would show her what he’s been doing while he’s gone. showing her the rooms that they sleep in, the kitchen, the space in the floor that has the pole they have to slide down whenever there’s an emergency late in the night. the dalmatian that she grew to love since she was terrified of the creature at first.
⤷ 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙛𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙤𝙟𝙞 - doesn’t miss an opportunity to tell his co-workers how much he misses and loves you each time they finally get a chance to settle down from the events that have transpired in their every day lives. he would go on and on about how loving of a wife you are. telling them that your daughter won her first spelling-bee despite her being so young, she’s really smart. he would joke about her smartness being from him and not you. he would cry as he was drunk out of his mind telling them that he really wants another child with you.
⤷ 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙛𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙤𝙟𝙞 - who one day would make a dinner reservation for you both at a fancy restaurant as you daughter was with his mother for the time being so, you two can have some alone time. you would tell him about your day and what happened the last few days of work. he would respond diligently to your words as he ate his dinner. soon, he would grab your hand after paying for the dinner and took you on the riverwalk as you ‘ooed’ and ‘ahhed’ at the scenery. many lights hung around the place as your eyes sparkled. toji would smile to himself as you jumped up and down seeing a koi fish. he would take a picture of you alone next to the lake and then soon ask someone to take a picture of you both. you two would later go home and have an eventful night with a sex filled room.
⤷ 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙛𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙤𝙟𝙞 - who have been noticing your sudden weight gain and appetite but decided not to say anything due to you possibly blowing up on him if he asked about it. but, he couldn’t get the thought of you maybe forming another child in your stomach. he was ecstatic to say the least but wouldn’t say anything until YOU noticed. you would soon wake him up out of his sleep as you hurried and jumped out of the bed to throw up.
⤷ 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙛𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙤𝙟𝙞 - finding out that you’re pregnant brought him literal tears to joy as he would easily pick you and spin you around once you told him. you would giggle as you held onto him tightly trying not to fall. he would soon go to work and tell them that his wish came true as all of them cheered for him and his accomplishment. he would flaunt the news around like he won the lottery because he loves you so much. if you were craving something he would immediately tend to your every craving and take care of you.
⤷ 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙛𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙤𝙟𝙞 - when your bundle of joy finally came about after 9 long months, he literally cried in the hospital room as the nurses held your child up towards you. he was beautiful. he had tojis eyes, lips, nose, everything. he was like a copy and paste of the older male. any time the newly born child cried he would jokingly tell you that’s it’s because he misses his father every time you were on the phone with him. you would roll your eyes and dismiss his comment with a light laugh. he truly loved his little family that he created and he was hoping for a son to soon call that boy, megumi.
You could only whimper in response with how good Bishop felt inside of you. It was late at night and you were once again in Bishop’s room, no matter how many times you promised yourself to not go over his place, you would still go.
So there you were, your clothes on the floor, your phone placed on do not disturb and being on top of him with a western movie playing in the back, riding him at a slow pace with your hands laying across his bare chest.
“You always say it’s the last time,” He began whispering, loud enough for you to hear him. He has one hand on your hip, tracing small circles where a hickey from last week was starting to fade, while the his other arm rested behind his head, “..yet you always come back, more desperate than last time.”
Bishop sits up and places both his hands on your waist, looking at your face closely, almost as if he was studying every little expression you did.
Eyebrows furrowed, mouth open letting out all those moans and whimpers he secretly loved to hear, your lips were still puffy from him fucking your mouth the minute you walked in.
A quick smack landed on your butt, getting a gasp out of you.
“Speak.”
You moaned moving faster, gripping his shoulders, definitely leaving your nail marks. “You always let me in.” You whimpered looking into his dark brown eyes, “You can’t lie, you love my pussy.”
And you were right. Sure, Bishop had his fine experience with women before, but when you came in, his life changed. It was something about you that made him want to have you. Especially just him alone. He wouldn’t say it out loud because that’s not the type of person he is, but he wanted you to be his, only his.
After snapping back in, he moved his hands to your hips, a tight grip with how you started bouncing on top of him, feeling his whole dick push into you and hitting that spot inside that made you tremble. “Yeah, this pussy real good.” Bishop spoke looking down through gritted teeth, hiding his groans.
Beneath the two of you, Bishop saw how good you were taking him, you always did. And that’s when he saw it, that bulge poking through your lower stomach.
He couldn’t hold it anymore, he pulled his dick out earning a whine from you. “Please— more please please—” “Shut it.” Bishop cut you off while he placed you on top of his pillows.
He positions himself in between your legs, putting them on top of his thighs. “Listen to what’s going to happen.” He placed his thumb on your clit, rubbing it while he pushed three fingers in your wet cunt.
You moaned, putting yourself on your elbows to see. You saw how shiny and wet his fingers were coming in and out of you, his other hand stroking his long hard cock. “I’m going to fuck you, you can cum as many times as you want, as long as you ask me to.” Bishop said looking directly into your lustful eyes.
“Okay…ohh..okay.” You were so horny, you were moving your hips to get more friction. “I’m not stopping till’ I nut… don’t want you to be whining or crying saying it’s too much,” He took his fingers out of you and lined himself up, rubbing and slapping his fat head onto your clit.
“Tell me you’ll be a good girl and not whine.”
You had become a mess, so lost in the feeling to even keep your eyes open and look at him. “B, I promise I’ll be a good girl. Daddy I’ll be soo good for you.” You slipped in that nickname you loved calling him, looking into his eyes.
“Say it again.”
“Daddy—” Bishop pushed all nine inches of him inside you, grabbing the back of your knees, he pushed them up to your chest. “Daddy! I’ll be so good! Oh! Oh—” Bishop always kept the same rhythm when he fucked you like this, long and hard strokes.
“You gonna take my dick?” “Yes! Yes B, I will— I want to.” Your hands were gripping the sheets beneath you, each time he thrusted back in, the headboard of the bed would hit the wall behind. “Take it baby..” Bishop moaned low, looking down to see how his dick was already getting that creamy ring you always gave him.
He kept fucking you like this, having you moan and roll your eyes each time he pushed inside, deep enough to hit your g-spot. “You’re doing so good baby…you hear that pussy? You hear how good she’s being for daddy?” And you did. You cunt had gotten so wet, it was squelching with each thrust Bishop gave you, you could feel it leak out of you.
You nodded to his answer, “B, I wanna cum..” You whimpered feeling your orgasm start to build up inside of you. “B, please can I cum? I’ll be so good Daddy— so good, please let me cum.” You were slurring your words, fucked out and full of lust. And so was Bishop.
Bishop hasn’t really notice, but he gets quite expressive when the two of you have sex. He’ll furrows his eyebrows like he’s angry, starts huffing low when he’s getting close and gets a light shed of sweat on his face.
He let go of the grip he had on your legs to lean down and kiss you. You quickly wrapped your legs around his hips and gripped his biceps. Your faces inches away from each other, you were feeling each other’s heavy breaths.
“You wanna cum baby?” “Yes..yes! Daddy please- make me cum please..please—” You always begged, I mean, how could you not when Bishop was the most perfect man you’d been with.
He slid one leg on top of his shoulder, his hand reaching down to rub your puffy clit. He leans to your cheek to give it a quick kiss while you were practically already screaming. “Cum baby, cum— show Daddy who’s making you feel this good.” Bishop groaned against your ear, his thrusts becoming quicker, sharper.
It hits you right there, your eyes shut tight, drool leaving off the corner of your mouth and legs trembling. “Tha…Daddy— Oh! Oh!” “Yeah— who’s making you cum baby— tell me.” Bishop was growling, feeling the way your cunt was starting to squeeze him so hard, he couldn’t even control the rhythm of his thrusts. “You! You daddy..you’re making me cum.” You sobbed, tears coming out of your eyes.
But you had to keep your promise, you couldn’t tell Bishop to stop or to go slow like other times before. So you did your next step, you encourage him to cum.
“B…” You grabbed his face with both your hands, slowly caressing his cheeks. “Please cum in me..” You whispered, clearly fucked out, your brain getting mushy. Bishop groaned pushing his face to your neck. He was getting close, you could feel it. His thrusts quick and losing rhythm, chasing his high.
“Daddy I- I know you want to.” You hiccuped, having him moan in response. “Keep my pussy warm, baby..keep it full B, please..please—” Bishop groaned putting his hand around your throat gently, pushing you down to the pillow.
“Take it baby— fuck— take it.” Thick hot spurts of cum were shooting inside of you, you felt your cunt overflow, felt some of already dripping out of you.
“Say thank you,…thank me right fucking now baby.” “Thank you! Daddy thank you! Oh! Ohh— I want more! Please— please I want more.” It’s like you couldn’t hear yourself. You had no idea why you were begging for anymore. It didn’t hit you until now that you were approaching a second orgasm, harder than the first one.
But with how you gripped your legs tighter around Bishop and how you were practically sobbing and crying, he knew exactly why you were still begging.
“More baby? You want it all don’t you…you’re such a slut. All you come over for is for me to fuck you till’ pass out, till’ you can’t walk or think straight.” Even though his message was to degrade you, you felt nothing but praised, which it quite literally isn’t, but that’s how Bishop was with you sometimes, you couldn’t control that you loved it.
Your voice was gone at this point, eyes rolled back for what felt like the million time when your second orgasm came. The only thing you could hear in the room was the slow skin slapping as the two of you came down from your high, yours and Bishop’s heavy breathing and moans, and some guns going off at the western movie that was still playing in the background.
Without a word, Bishop started to pull out as slowly as he could, knowing you were overly sensitive. “Shh..shh, breath baby, just breath.” Bishop hushed your sobs, glancing to see your face for a minute before looking down again at your shaking thighs.
As soon as his head left your fluttering cunt, Bishop’s cum started to drip out, almost looking like a fountain falling out.
“Should’ve put a towel.” He muttered, getting off the bed and going go the bathroom. You sit up and look over. You see Bishop wetting the towel he always cleans you up with. You grabbed your phone from the nightstand, turning off your do not disturb and seeing some notifications pop, but you focused on the time, 2:16am.
“Someone call?” You look up, Bishop wearing his sweatpants that hung slightly loose and a sweater. It was always weird not seeing him in his full attire, but it felt special knowing you were one of the few people that got to see him like this.
“No..just checking the time.” You whispered laying back down and spreading your legs. It was a quiet agreement. Bishop rearranged your guts and then cleaned you.
“I have your panties from last week. You can take any shirt.” Bishop spoke while he went back to the bathroom to drop the towel and come back with your panties in hand.
“Thank you.” You said softly, suddenly feeling shy. “Do you want water?” He asked opening his door to head to the kitchen. “Yes please.” He nodded slowly leaving. However, he knew that the moment he’d be back to the bedroom, you’d already be knocked out asleep, of course on his side of the bed. Placing the cup of water on the nightstand, he got in bed to continue watching what was 30 minutes left of the movie.
“B…” You mumble, reaching for him but only receiving a low hum. “This is the last time.” You said in a soft tone, opening your eyes to look up at him. Slowly he looked down at you, studying your resting figure.
And there you were, on your stomach hugging the pillow underneath you, wearing his shirt, slightly closing your eyes, fighting your sleep just to wait his response. He reached to caress the back of head, as if he was soothing you to sleep, and looked back at the TV screen.
BLUE COLLAR! Toji, ughh. Like his body was already muscular and strong, but NOW he's even more muscular, practically built like a tank from years of manual labor. His broad back, thick, muscular arms lined with veins from lifting, thick thighs, and that prominent, deep scar across his lip, that you love tracing with your tongue.
Every night, when he comes home, he smells like sweat and metal.
AND your already waiting to greet him with something tight, only for him. A low-cut top that makes your tits sit high and bouncy, with tiny shorts that ride up your soft ass.
He doesn't even say hello sometimes, just drops his work bag, and grabs a handful of your ass, and groans against your ear.
He would say stuff like, "Miss you so fuckin' much , doll", and when he uses that pet name, 'doll,' it's just to get you going.
Mornings w/ BLUE COLLAR! Toji is such a moment. I mean, you would wake up and make him a massive breakfast, just for him <3.
You’re just a little housewife for him, I mean, who wouldn't? Imagine, while the food is cooking, he would sneak up behind you and press his morning wood against your ass, while his rough hands slip under your shirt.
He loves squeezing and lifting your breasts, rolling your nipples between his calloused fingers from all that manual labor. You're trying to make food, while he's just groping you.
You're a whimpering mess, and pushing back against him, getting wetter by the second under his touch.
Some mornings, if he has enough time on his hands, he would bend you over the counter and slide in raw and deep. He's just fucking you slowly, and deep, while eggs are sizzling.
"Gotta start the day right, fillin' up my wife before work."
Of course, being married to Toji, your stepson is Megumi. It took some time for Megumi to adjust to the new family dynamic, and Toji being an actual, present father. I mean, he calls you "Mom" on a good day, and Y/N.
Gosh, making lunch for BLUE COLLAR! Toji is like your love language. He works long hours, so of course, he would need a hearty, nice, and filling meal for lunch. SO YOU PACK, a nice lunch 4 him <3.
Packing him a bento with rice, grilled meat, vegetables (cuz he needs it), and always a sweet treat like a cookie. Sometimes you even slip something like your panties, or a naughty polaroid of your tits, with a post-it that says smth dirty.
When he opens his lunchbox, he just gotta eat, a rare smile on his face. While the rest of the crew just wonders why the hell the toji, the scary foreman, is suddenly in a good mood.
UGHH = Showers w/ him when he comes back from work; it's just non-negotiable. You, the sweet homewife you are, help him peel off his dusty clothes. Running your soft hands over every bulging, sore muscle. Under the hot water, you drop to your knees on the tile, water already cascading over your body . While you're just choking on his cock,
You're taking your time, kissing his shaft, licking against the vein, and sucking on his balls, while stroking him with both hands, because he's so big. While he's leaning against the wall, grunting. He combs through your hair, watching your pretty eyes looking up at him.
When he cums, you just swallow everything, or have it land all over your tits, and just rub it like it's your favorite lotion <3.
Watching you do that just makes him even more hard.
GOSH, dinner time... I mean, it's regular family time, but the second Megumi leaves the table, all bets are OFF. Toji would pull you onto his lap on the recliner, your straddling his hips. Your chest is right in front of his face, while he just being motorboating them.
He's just sucking marks into your soft skin, while you rub yourself against his growing bulge.
"Fuckin' best part of my day," he mumbles against your nipple, then you just ride him right there, and now. He is gripping your ass and thrusting up, making you moan louder. After all those long hours at work, I mean, he deserves it.
Weekends w/ BLUE COLLAR! Toji, it's just recovering, and fucking. He would wake you up by sliding between your thighs and eating you out like his favorite breakfast, until you're shaking.
Then he fucks you in missionary, holding your legs wide, spread eagle style. While he's grunting into your neck, "Gonn' put a baby into ya".
When BLUE COLLAR! Toji has a brutal day at work, you're already ready. A hot bath for him, a big dinner with all of his favorites, and greeting him with nothing on expect a apron.
You would feed him dinner while sitting on his lap, then ride his face on the couch until he smothered in your slick.
After he relaxes fully, you would just let him fuck you however way he wants. I mean, your his stress toy, his wife.
Imagine after one of those days, he just bends you over, doggy style. Watching your ass ripple while he snaps his hips against you, or prone bone so he can get close to you, pressing all his weight on you, to get his dick as deep as possible.
warnings: smut ofc!, kitchen fucking, cream pie, that's pretty much it.
Soldier Boy x Fem!Reader
14 days of fucking valentine's!- day 7!
A/N: so sorry im late!! ive been getting stuff ready for senior night and on top of that I had to wash my hair today..forgive me pls!!
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wc: 1,529
It’s been a couple of days since Soldier Boy has been staying with us. I was really excited at first because everyone looked up to Soldier Boy growing up. He was cool, funny, and was a good man. Or so I thought…
He was a sexist asshole! It’s exhausting having to deal with him 24/7. And today of all days, Butcher makes me watch Ben (Soldier Boy) like I’m his damn babysitter or something. Ben is a grown man who is very much capable of taking care of himself. But nooo, Butcher says I have to do whatever Ben wants me too to do.
Ben is also a raging coke addict. In the past 3 days I’ve known him, all he does is snort coke, down pills and beer like it’s nothing. It was around and the boys still weren’t back so I decided to get started on dinner. I got all my ingredients out to make pasta and went to go boil a pot of water. As I started on making my sauce, I heard Ben come up behind me.
“This is what a real woman does.” His voice boomed throughout the small kitchen. “Do you ever shut up.” I groaned as I rolled my eyes. I felt him come up beside me before speaking up again. “We used to slap women back in the day for speaking to their husbands like that.” He said. My eyes widened before turning around to look at him. “Excuse me?!” My voice was louder than before. Why on earth would he say something like that?!
“I’m just saying.” He said with a shrug. “Well you’re not my husband.” I sassed. “Not yet.” Ben smirked before going back to the couch and drinking his beer. Ugh! The nerve of this man. And I hate how attractive he is. Ben has such a shitty personality but man, is he so hot. His tall muscular frame, those large veiny hands, and his beard. I remember the first time I saw in person was a couple of days ago. He came out his tank naked and hairy. I even got a glimpse of his dick and he was huge. Of course he was huge, he’s Soldier Boy.
I grew up watching him on tv, thought he was cute and funny. But when you meet him in person..you’d wish he’d just shut the fuck up. I finally got dinner with dinner and made both of our plates. I went to the living room and leaned over to place both of our plates down on the coffee table as he whistled at me. I stood back up all the way before turning around to look at him. “Really?” I flatly asked with my arms crossed.
“Your ass looks amazing in those jeans.” He smirked while taking a sip of his beer. I sighed and rolled my eyes before heading back into the kitchen to grab a water. I can’t lie..I sort of do like the attention I get from him. My cheeks were heating up and my face kept cracking a smile but I kept making myself to stop.
I grabbed a water from the fridge and headed back to the living room where Ben was. He was already eating his food and I sat down on the couch. When I sat down he paused and looked at me. I side eyed him before speaking up. “What?” “What’s the deal with you and Butcher?” He asked as I damn near choked on my water. “What?!” I choked.
He slightly tilted his head while still talking with a mouth full of food. “You two are awfully close.” I shook my head and laughed at him. His brows raised up in confusion. “Butcher is like a brother to me, that man practically raised me as his own.” I replied. Ben nodded his head slowly as he took the information in. I’ve never once looked at Butcher in a sexual way. He took me in when I was a teenager, I was homeless.
“So that means you’re single..?” He teased as I scoffed. He chuckled and went back to eating his food.
…
We both finally got done with eating and I took both of our plates to the sink to wash them. He was still sitting down on the couch loudly laughing at whatever was playing on the tv. After I got done with washing our plates, I moved on to placing leftovers into the fridge and washing whatever pots I used to cook dinner. His laughter from the living room eventually stopped which made me pause for a bit. Butcher did say that Ben might try to leave and explore the city himself. Just as I turned around he was right behind me.
I let out a relived sigh as he smirked. “What? Ya’ missed me?” He teasingly asked. And just like that I was annoyed by him again. “You’re obnoxious.” I simply said. He scoffed while looking down at me. “Me?” He asked in disbelief as I nodded my head. I hate that I love how deep his voice is. I turned back around and started moving dry dishes into the cabinet and that’s when I felt his hands on my waist. My body stiffened at his touch.
“Most women would’ve folded sooner.” He lowly said with his mouth hovering over my ear. My breath hitched at his closeness. I tried to speak but nothing could come out. I was frozen under his touch. “It’s been almost 40 years..please sweetheart.” He mumbled in my ear. My legs became weak at his nickname. Something came over me when I felt his hands squeeze my ass. I immediately turned around and reached my hands up to his collar and pulled him into a kiss.
We were both desperate and hungry for the kiss. His large, rough hands scooped me up and placed me on the counter. My hands pulled at his brown locks as his large hands squeezed my inner thighs. He grunted when I pulled at his hair. I was now reaching for his zipper on his jeans but I fumbled with zipper and I couldn’t even unzip it. Ben broke away from the kiss breathless while helping me and unzipped his jeans and pulled them down. I already saw his cock once but it’s so breath taking. It’s massive. He smirked as I gawked at his cock.
I then felt his hands roughly tug my jeans and panties off. He scooted me towards the edge of the counter and I wrapped my legs around his waist. I was needing him desperately so I took it upon myself to grab his cock and slide it up and down my wet folds. Ben’s eyes closed as he sharply sucked a breath of air in at the feeling. I gripped his arm with one hand while the other pushed his cock inside me. I squealed at how big he was as he let out a deep grunt. Poor man hasn’t had sex for 40 years.
He finally opened his eyes again and looked down at where we connected before pulling out and pushing back in. My head flew back while my hand was still gripping his biceps. He was so big. “Ben!” I whined as he started to thrust. “So tight.” He muttered to hisself. His thrusts were quick, he needed this, nothing intimate, just something to relive himself. “Oh my goshhh!” I loudly moaned. I’ve never had a man this big before. “How are you this wet?” He groaned as his rough hands began to knead the fat on my thighs. “I don’t knowww.” I whined.
His thrusts were getting faster, he was needing to cum. His balls were slapping against my pelvis and I moved my other hand to try to push him away but he quickly grabbed it. “Fuckin’ take it.” He grunted. My lips went into a pout at his actions. His dick was poking that spot inside me that could just make me cum instantly. “I can’t take it!” I choked out. “Yes you can.” He whispered as his hand squeezed mines tightly. My pussy was pulsing around his cock which made him bite his lip.
“So close.” He said. Ben’s cock was twitching inside me, signaling that he was about to cum. “Cum inside me.” I breathlessly said as his face landed in the crook of my neck. “Shit!” He said into my neck. He did a deep stroke and that’s when I came on him. “Yes! Fuck!” I shouted as my orgasm washed over me.
Ben soon came in me and when I tell you it was a lot..it was a LOT! Loads of his cum dripping out my leg and onto the kitchen floor, it was like he shot water inside me or something. His cock was twitching like crazy, he grunting loudly along with squeezing my hand tightly.
My head dropped back on the counter. I was breathless and pussy was sore from how big he is. He pulled his cock out and his cum was dribbling out my sopping hole.
“Thank you.” He muttered with his eyes still squeezed shut.
Summary: Seeing Jon smoke a joint one day sparks a desire that he’s more than happy to help you indulge in
Warnings: 18+ ONLY, drug mentions - weed, smut: high sex, dirty talk, intense and passionate fucking, multiple orgasms, shotgunning during oral (male receiving), pussy eating, creampie mentions, mention of tears during sex with reassuring check in
Word Count: 4.6k
Note: This gif has been living rent free since I saw it and I just had to write smutty stoned!jon, he’s so fine it’s ridiculous! Enjoy!
It just wasn’t fair how charming and handsome he could be, it really wasn’t. Especially not when he snuck a glance or two your way while you and the dogs cuddled up together, cause even sitting down, Jon Bernthal had you weak in the knees.
WINDOW WATCHING ( a trevante rhodes fanfic ) .
one - shot .
love interest : trevante rhodes ( specifically 2016 - 2019 tre )
rating : m as shit . ( smut , drinking , smoking , voyeurism , masturbation , public sex , plain ol' p in v sex )
wc : 6.7k
author's note : this is so old ngl , i wrote this like five years ago and never posted it so my apologies if anything feels off time - wise . this was pre - pandemic even ! but yeah , harking back to my moonlight / tre obsessed phase ugh what a time !
The hardest part about moving into the off campus housing for Ashley was the fact that she had to pay for laundry.
Back in DuBois Hall, where she'd lived for the past two years, there was free laundry. It was one of the few perks she liked, other than her friends always being within arm’s reach. Now, she lived in a small studio apartment just ten minutes away from D-Hall and she had to be scrounging up quarters for her to be able to wash her damn clothes.
Therefore, she was happy most of her friends had remained in the dorms and were more than happy to let her swipe their student IDs so she could get into the laundry room on her old floor and take care of business. Every Thursday, she'd roll her little wheel-y hamper over to the U-shaped building, enter on the left side, and ride the elevator to the ninth floor where she would spend three hours with her friends while she waited for her shit to wash and then dry.
This Sunday was no different, other than that it was a little later in the evening than usual. It was only nine o'clock when she'd thrown her clothes into the dryer and was walking back toward her friends Imani & Serena’s room. Suddenly, a group of giggling girls ran in before her. When Ashley turned the corner, there were about ten girls in the room, all gathered around the large window on the other side of the room.
“What are y'all doing?” Ashley pushed through the crowd, standing next to Imani who had a pair of binoculars, of all things.
“You know Nikki?” Imani asked.
“Ugh, of course I know Nikki.” Nikki was a cheerleader. Nikki had a slim little body with an ass that turned heads. Nikki had fucked almost half of all the frats on campus. Ashley usually wasn't in the business of slutshaming but when you made it a point to brag about sleeping with other girls’ men in their faces like it was a prize, she was more than okay laughing at the jokes made about you.
“Well, her room this year is across the courtyard, a couple floors down. We think it’s a single and her bed is right next to the window.” Imani held out the binoculars to Ashley, who had to smack away some girl’s hand so she could take it. “And it looks like she's got Tre in there right now.”
“Tre? Trevante Tre?” Ashley hurriedly looked through the binoculars and couldn't help the gasp she let out.
Tre was the captain of the school’s football team, the quarterback, in a prominent frat, and by far, the finest nigga at Laurent U -- and it looked like he was tearing Nikki apart.
She was on her knees with him behind her, face mushed into the mattress as he went to town on her. His dark body was muscly and glistening, sweat dripping down his body. The way his hips were pistoning into her, the way his hands gripped her hips, one of them rising up to smack her ass once, twice - it was far too much. His pearly white teeth bit down on his bottom lip before he slowed himself down, drawing himself almost completely out of her and then ramming himself back in. The gold chain around his neck glimmered in the light. The other girls made various noises of approval and Ashley hadn't realized it but she did too.
“He's way too fuckin’ good at this. He just had practice like, two hours ago! How does he have the damn strength?” Serena stood on the other side of Ashley, fully leaning on the window glass.
“He's a goddamn superhero, sis. He ain't letting up either, she’s barely hanging on.” Imani replied.
She wasn't wrong. From what Ashley could see, Nikki was gripping the sheets like she was holding on for dear life and if she'd had any arch in her back before, it was gone now. She went to place her hand on his lower stomach but he caught her wrist and lifted her upper body so his chest was pressed to her back. He said something to her as he rolled his hips up, holding her in that position for a minute as she nodded. Then he let her fall forward, pulling out of her but only long enough for him to flip her onto her back and reinsert himself. He placed both her feet onto his shoulders as he turned them on her daybed so he was standing beside it, now facing the window.
“Oop, he switched positions. Gimme my shit back!” Imani snatched the binoculars back from Ashley, who just sucked her teeth.
“Y'all are so nasty. This is such an invasion of privacy.” She shook her head, the black curly tendrils from her simple high ponytail bouncing around on top of her slick hair. She crossed her arms over her chest, still not taking her eyes off the window.
“Stop watching it then.” Serena pursed her lips.
There was a beat.
“I ain’t say all that now.” The other girls chuckled at that. For a couple minutes, they all stood at the window, heads slightly tilted, mouths a bit ajar, as they watched Tre drive himself into Nikki over and over again. There was almost complete silence in the room. Ashley pressed her thighs together slightly, the denim from her jeans rubbing against her cotton thong. It was entrancing.
Tre seemed to finally finish (“he was going for at least thirty minutes” said Serena) and he pulled out of her, taking off the full condom and throwing it into a trashcan. He grabbed a couple of wet wipes from Nikki’s dresser and helped wipe her down (“what a true southern gentleman” said Imani). Nikki was seemingly in a state of bliss, just smiling up at the ceiling. Just as he was finishing sliding his grey sweatpants up over his boxer briefs, he looked up and out the window, directly at theirs.
All of the girls shrieked and ducked, including Ashley who hid right underneath the windowsill next to a cackling Imani. Some of the girls ran out of the room.
“This ain't funny, Mani! We look like perverts!” Ashley scolded her.
“We are! But that nigga was putting on a whole show. A performance, if you will. Matter of fact ...” She grabbed a nearby notebook and Sharpie, quickly writing down 10/10 on it. She pressed it against the window while still laughing her ass off.
“You are too damn much. I'm leaving!” Ashley couldn't help but laugh too, along with Serena, as she duck-walked out of the room, still afraid of Tre seeing her. “Goodnight, ya nasties!”
Quickly, Ashley walked over to the laundry room, gathered all her now dry clothes into the hamper, grabbed her keys out of Imani & Serena’s room, and rolled her hamper into the elevator. Once she got onto the main floor, she headed out onto the courtyard and checked her phone. It was nearing 9:45.
Damn, he had been going for a while. She thought to herself as she walked towards the parking lot.
She hadn't even noticed the figure sitting on the bench to her right until he spoke.
“Enjoy the show?”
She nearly jumped out her slides at the sound of his voice, turning her head only to come face to face with the man himself, Tre.
“I - I - I -” She stuttered and looked up at him, seemingly losing the ability to speak. He stepped towards her, the smell of sweat mixed with deodorant and some bomb ass cologne invading her senses.
“Front row seat, huh?” He had the nerve to have a little smirk on his face as he said it. He looked down at her, eyes raking over her tank top and blue jeans, an otherwise normal outfit for the middle of September in the Louisiana heat. Yet, a shiver ran through her spine, despite the humidity in the air. She cursed her decision to go without a bra as she could feel her nipples hardening. He hadn't so much as looked her over and here Ashley was, nearly standing in a puddle. “Imagine my surprise when I finish with ol’ girl, I look up and the cute shorty from my econ class is staring dead at me. Had a nigga gassed.”
He licked his lips and circled around her, stopping behind her, leaning down to whisper in her ear, “Next time, if you wanna be the star, come and find me. I got you, baby.”
His Louisiana accent shone through on that last part and it nearly had Ashley weak in the knees. He walked away, toward the parking lot, leaving a very turned on Ashley standing in that courtyard with her little hamper and a whole lot of dirty thoughts.
Ashley’s tiny little studio apartment was starting to sound like a barbershop.
It had been three days since The Perving™️ ( mani had named it that) and Ashley hadn't been able to stop thinking about Tre since. Between the memories of him naked and their little conversation afterwards, she had plenty of ideas that kept her little vibrator going. She'd already had to change out the batteries and it was during said change that she realized, maybe this shit was getting ridiculous.
As the weekend came to an end and Ashley was forced to leave her dorm on Sunday night to return to the girls’ room, she recounted the story to both of her best friends.
“Wait wait wait - he said this to you and you didn't IMMEDIATELY jump that nigga’s bones? Are you dumb?” Imani exclaimed, sitting up in her twin sized bed. Serena pushed Ashley’s head in disbelief.
“Ow! No, I didn't! I was shocked, I just kinda stood there and didn't say nothing. I'm pretty sure I lost all ability to speak.” Ashley played with the fringes of her shorts to avoid looking at Imani, who was staring her down in complete disappointment.
“You gotta fuck him. Do it for us, in our honor. We gotta know if Nikki was just over exaggerating or if that man truly is that talented.” Serena spoke up from her bed.
“Yeah, that'll happen. Keep dreaming y'all.” And that was the end of that, as far as Ashley was concerned. She had decided that she was just going to keep to herself, mind her business, and keep it pushing. Tre was a nonfactor in her life, just another part of her spank bank. He hadn't mattered before, he wasn't gonna matter now.
Still, when Tuesday came around and the reminder that she had their shared econ class that afternoon at one dawned on her, Ashley may have decided to put a little extra effort into her appearance. She swore, to herself, that the Fenty body lava she was applying was so she could take cute pictures later. That the neon pink bodycon tank dress paired with the long white cardigan she fished out from the back of her closet were simply cute clothes and not because they accentuated her skin tone like nothing else. It also definitely wasn't because she'd spent the last six months in the gym doing squats so she knew she looked good as hell in the damn outfit. It wasn't none of that. The girl was simply going to econ, like she had already for weeks and like she would until the end of the semester.
After properly doing her hair and applying minimal makeup, Ashley was slipping on her white slip on Vans and throwing her big ass snakeskin purse onto her shoulder. She drove the five minutes back to campus where she bought herself an iced tea from the cafe & quickly headed over to the class, taking her regular seat in the back left hand corner.
She was fifteen minutes early but that was good. That meant she wouldn't have to run into him and could instead keep a watchful eye for the six foot two masterpiece as he walked in. She was sitting there, one AirPod in, sipping her tea when the sound of raucous laughter from the hallway seeped into the room and she knew he had arrived. He seemed to go everywhere with an entourage - a side effect of being that well known, Ash supposed.
Turning to face forward so she wouldn't appear like she had been door watching, she quickly inserted the other AirPod and turned up the volume on her Megan the Stallion while flipping through her textbook. The act seemed to work for a minute or two before two thick ass arms caged her in from behind. She removed her headphones.
“Excuse me, can I help you?” Ash turned her head to look up at him and immediately, the smell of his cologne invaded her senses. It was the same smell from the other night except now even stronger, though she couldn’t decide if it was better or worse when mixed with sweat. What a freak ass thought.
“I was wondering if you was gonna show up today - was tryna see if you got scared.” His voice was low in her ear and when she turned more, they were face to face, noses practically touching.
“And what was I supposed to be scared of, exactly?”
“I think I got an idea of what you might be scared of.” He answered with a smirk and then a lick of his lips. Jesus, be a fence.
Still, Ashley played it cool, rolling her eyes. “I ain’t scared of you or what you got in ya pants, sir. Don't you have to find your seat?”
“Oh but I already got one?” At her raised eyebrow, his mouth broke out into a full on grin, white teeth and all. “If you wanna lift up, I can slide on under you and we can get this class crackin’.”
Ashley couldn’t help the laugh she let out and he chuckled with her. She turned back, waving her hand at him. “Boy, good-bye. Get to your seat Trevante.”
There was a beat then regrettably his arms lifted from around her and his smell already started to fade away. “Aight, I'll get to my seat.” With that, he slid from behind her chair and situated himself to the right of her.
Ashley had picked this spot because while there were nearly fifty people in the class, it was a huge lecture hall and most everyone was seated in the middle or right sections. Up here in her corner, she was all alone, with no one behind her. The people in front of her were several rows down. It had been just her while Tre typically sat in the middle sections, front & center. They were far too alone up here. This was not good.
Class had started and Tre hadn't moved and Ashley was sure she was gonna die. He had gotten very comfortable, leaning back in his chair, worksheets out and his textbook open in front of him as the professor droned on & on. It was boring as hell, as per usual, but Ashley was so hyper aware of Tre’s presence that she couldn't focus on anything else. She hadn't even looked at him since he sat down next to her.
She could see him moving out the corner of her eye, leaning forward onto the desk with his left arm. He whispered low enough for only her to hear.
“You look like somebody finna bust down them doors and hurt you, shawty. You needa calm down. Relax.” Slowly, Ash felt his big ass hand slide up her calf and over her knee, stopping right at the end of her thigh, millimeters away from where her dress ended.
He was sitting up straighter now and she was holding her breath, unable to speak. To anyone else, they looked like two students patiently listening to their professor but one look at the way Ashley was gripping her pen and you could tell something was amiss.
It was only when he slid his chair closer to hers and his fingers slipped under the material of her dress that she moved. Her hand clamped down his thick ass forearms, freezing his fingers where they were - right on her inner thigh.
“What the fuck do you think you doing?” She gritted out, her teeth clenched together.
He waited until she made direct eye contact with him and then whispered. “Making you relax.”
Her grip loosened out of shock and his fingers continued on their path, the heat coming from between her thighs seeming to call to him. She bit her lip in anticipation before jumping a little when his middle finger swiped gently over her pussy through the material covering it.
“Is that lace? Hm, I bet that shit looks amazing on you. What color is it?” He whispered, letting his finger continue to stroke over her mound. “Hm? Can you even remember right now?”
“Green. It's green.” Ashley managed to breathe out.
“I like green. Almost as much as I like pink on you.” Now, his index finger had joined his middle in the stroking and Ashley could feel the material of her panties getting wetter by the second, so she knew he could too. “You like this huh? You got these big innocent eyes and got everyone fooled into thinking you're some little angel but clearly, you a little freak like me. Look at you, wet already and I ain't even get to the good part.”
Ashley closed her eyes for a second, still lightly gripping his forearm before she reopened them to look him directly in his again. “So get to the good part.”
His jaw clenched and they continued their eye contact for a second before Ashley looked back at the professor. “Aight then, but you asked for this, remember that.”
First, his thumb rubbed her clit through the material, causing Ashley's thighs to clench together for a second before Tre pushed them apart again. She felt his two fingers from before push the lace to the side and make direct contact with her lips, running over the slick that now covered it. They were thick as hell so when he finally dipped his fingers in past the lips, it felt like she was already filled up to the max.
Her mouth opened in a near perfect O and Tre kept his eyes on her lips as he slowly pumped in & out of her. She closed her mouth after a second but the grip on his arm tightened. That seemed to only encourage him forward, fingers picking up pace as his thumb now rubbed that little bundle of nerves that sat tight at the top. When he curled his fingers inside her, Ashley could feel her stomach coil. Her gaze was still on the professor, who was giving his closing remarks.
“Oh, you finna cum huh? You gonna cum all over my fingers, right here in the middle of class?” Tre picked up the pace of his fingers, now driving into her at an almost brutally slow but deliberate pace, watching her bite down on her lip so hard he was sure she was going to draw blood.
She nodded meekly and held back a whimper, nails digging into his arm while she clenched her thighs together as much as they could go with his hand between them. He watched her close her eyes and twitch once, twice, three times, her walls gripping his fingers in a vice. Now all he could imagine was her pussy doing that to his dick and he didn't think it was possible, but his shit got harder.
Her nipples were hard, her legs were shaking slightly, her pupils dilated - if this was how she reacted to just his fingers, he couldn't wait to see her after a good three or four rounds with Junior.
While she was still catching her breath and the class was starting to pack up their things, he slipped his finger out from in her, sliding her panties back into place. She quickly gathered her materials into her purse before they both stood up, chest to chest, hers still heaving slightly. He looked down at her with a smirk as he sucked his index finger into his mouth.
“Just like a good cobbler.” He went to do the same to his middle finger but she grabbed his wrist before he could and sucked the finger herself, letting her tongue roll over the top of the finger before she let it go with a pop & a smirk.
“See you Thursday.”
She wasn't going to see him on Thursday, Ashley remembered as she ate dinner while watching TV in her apartment. Tre was the quarterback and as the quarterback, he had to lead his team to a win against their rival, across the state that same week. The only way she was gonna see Tre that weekend was if she joined the rest of the school to watch the game live on Friday night.
Which she did.
Imani and Serena had dragged her down to the local bar where they were airing the game & had a five dollar deal for 15 wings. A two for one deal as far as Ashley was concerned. She opted to not tell the girls about what happened in class, instead wanting to keep it to herself for just a little bit longer. Not forever, just until she could figure out what the fuck she was even doing with this nigga.
Come Saturday morning, all Ashley could think about was going out that night and getting drunk. Drunk her always managed to figure shit out for sober her anyway.
There were three frats on campus but Rho Nu Tau always put on the best parties, even more so now that they had the three star players on the football team as official brothers. Ashley’s first real college party way back during her freshman year had been a Rho party and she remembers a tiny pledge named Tre running around being an errand boy as a part of his initiation. Clearly, he wasn't taking orders no more.
Imani and Serena were standing beside Ashley in the backyard as they shared a blunt with two boys she recognized from the dorms, damn near freezing their asses off in their little FashionNova fits when there was a cheer from inside the house. Ash almost went to check out what was going on when the blunt was passed to her and she was heartily distracted.
It took only a couple more minutes for her to get tired of shivering and walk back into the kitchen, eyes low & mink lashes fluttering. A vodka and pink lemonade was calling her name. After fixing herself the drink, she began to wade through the crowd before bumping shoulders with a familiar face.
“Ashley, you always bumping into me, damn!”
She looked up to see her bio lab partner, Alex, smiling down at her. He was cute, in a nerdy type of way, and totally not her type but he always made her laugh in class. She let her lips spread into a small grin before play shoving him back.
“I know you not talking, clown. What’re you even doing here, I thought you’d be locked in your room binge watching some new anime or something?”
“Oh, you got jokes? Nah, Rho’s game celebration parties always be the best ones, you know that.”
They stood talking to one another for a couple more seconds before You by Lola Brooke & Bryson Tiller started playing overhead. Ashley started bopping her head on beat and Alex raised his eyebrow at her, smiling all wide & shit. She rolled her eyes, finishing off her drink and pulling him further onto the makeshift dance floor where all the bodies were grinding against one another. She turned around, pressing her ass right up against his crotch and began moving her hips and her ass in accordance with the beat. Now, she wasn’t no expert but all those years of high school cheerleading and dancing in the mirror did have their payoffs.
Alex’s hands remained on her hips and as the song progressed, Ashley could feel eyes on her. She looked up at the top of the staircase where Tre was standing with two more of the team’s players, his eyes trained on her and Alex. His jaw was clenched tight from what she could see and the veins in his arms were bulging as he death gripped that railing.
Now, Alex had always made it very clear that his type of woman was always more the Dua Lipa type than the Rihanna so Ashley knew he wasn’t interested in her like that but damn it if it didn’t amuse her a little to see Tre standing up there all jealous while she threw it back for another man. If anything, the sight of him reinvigorated her and suddenly, she was putting a lot more work into her dance with Alex. The song did come to an end, however, and JT Coming filtered through the speakers which meant that Imani would be in Ashley’s face within the second.
Like clockwork, right on time for JT’s verse, Imani pushed through the crowd to get to Ashley as they screamed the lyrics in each other’s faces. Alex had disappeared at the beginning of the song but returned with a closed bottle of water for both himself and Ashley. Serena was not far behind and soon the four of them were dancing around one another with the music. It didn’t take long for Serena and Alex to start dancing together instead. As much fun as she was having, Ashley couldn’t help but let her thoughts drift off to Tre, who had vanished from his post at the top of the steps.
Role Model by Brent Faiyez was playing as Ashley looked around for a bathroom half an hour later, her high slowly wearing off and the two bottles of water plus her cups of alcohol finally getting to her. The bathroom downstairs had a line wrapped down the hallways but luckily for her, she knew that there were several upstairs. Unluckily, all the ones in the hallways were also sporting lines so that left her to seek out one of the en suites. Almost every one of the doors were locked except for the one at the far end of the hall. She’d never been this far into the house before but she need to pee so she said fuck it and pushed open the door.
The bathroom was on the other side of the darkened room, lit up only by the moonlight filtering in through the windows. She rushed over, locked the door behind her, and took care of her business. As she was washing her hands, Ash looked over her hair and makeup, surprised to see both in pretty good condition considering she was sweating like a whore in church. She figured at the very least, she’d be dealing with excessive frizz or her eyelashes falling off but she was all set. Ain’t God good?
Stepping out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, she took in where she was. There was a little desk to her left and a bookshelf to her right. Looking at the shelves, she noticed trophies, ribbons, medals, certificates - all the clear signs of a winner. There was a picture of a beautiful woman holding a precious little black boy and then another of a family standing with a tall young man wearing a football helmet. Her eyes focused, however, on the number six on his jersey and then subsequently, the sign the woman was holding: “Congrats Trevante!” She gasped and stepped away from the shelf, accidentally falling backwards onto the queen sized bed just as the door opened and in came Trevante himself.
It was awkward for a moment, but he quickly let a smirk take over his features as he closed the door behind him and crossed his arms over his chest to look down at her. From this angle, staring up at him, she was almost face to face with his crotch. She had to refrain from biting her lip.
“Now, how’d you manage to find my room of all the rooms in the house?” He licked his lips, unmoving from the position and ever so slightly thrusting his hips forward.
“Completely by accident, don’t get too excited.” She answered, sitting up and twisting her body to face his. “I was looking for the bathroom.”
“There are three public bathrooms in the house.”
“With lines damn near going out the door. I figured one of the big guys would have an en suite and I was right.”
“Oh so I’m a big guy now?”
Yes sir, you definitely are. “You know what I meant.”
“Well, why didn’t you ask that nigga you were dancing with if he had a bathroom at his place? It seemed like y’all were having a good time.” His smirk dropped and he crossed over to the desk, sitting on the spinning chair. Ashley's head tilted and she let out a small laugh.
“Is Trevante jealous? Oh my my!” He rolled his eyes as she got up from the bed, dancing over to him while singing “Tre’s jealous! He’s jealous! Very jealous!”
He stood back up and they were suddenly chest to chest, abruptly putting an end to her singing. His large fingers gripped her wrist tightly, and she looked up at his beautiful face. She was physically closer to him at this moment than ever before, even in the courtyard and in the classroom.
“Why would I be jealous? That nigga can’t make you cum like I did, in a public place, with two fingers. He ain't the one you think about when you in bed late at night, right? That’s me, all in your dreams, in your head - that’s Tre right?”
For a second, she lost her breath but she could see that smirk creeping back onto his lips and a part of her snapped.
“What about you Tre? You been thinking about me?” She trailed her hand down his pants to the waistband of his jeans, letting her fingers play with the button for a second. “When you in this bed at night, playing with this big dick of yours -” her fingers wrapped around his growing bulge through the denim and she heard his breath hitch. “- are you thinking about this pussy? How tight it was? How wet it was? Thinking about how many rounds you’d last with me?”
He didn’t answer, instead wrapping one large hand around her throat and letting it slide around to the back of her neck, pulling her face to his in a fierce kiss that took her breath away. She let out a sigh, one hand still on his dick and the other on his neck. Their tongues fought for dominance for a minute before Tre bent down to pick her up, wrapping her legs around his waist and easing them both onto the bed. His lips made their way from her lips to her throat, her legs tightening around him as he hit her sweet spot at the part where her ears met her neck.
His hands were moving at a pace so slow, Ash almost screamed. He was ghosting over her tits, fingers almost brushing against her nipples but not quite yet. It wasn’t until he pulled the neckline of the shirt down to reveal her pretty blue bra did he finally pinch her nipples through the material. Her hips bucked up at that and she could feel him smirk against her throat before he sat up a little to help her pull off the shirt. He pulled the cups down and immediately dove in, pulling one of the hard buds into his mouth as she let out a groan of pleasure. He knew exactly what he was doing, his finger expertly twisting the other one.
“You’re way too good at this.” She managed to get out and he chuckled, letting her go with a pop.
“I’m good at a lot of things.” He bit his lips, kissing down her bare skin as he unbuttoned her jeans. “Wanna see what else I’m good at?”
If she wasn’t wet already, she was sure that the combo of how he was looking up at her along with those words would’ve flooded her panties anyways. He pulled her pants down and off, throwing them on to the floor before sliding a finger over the material covering her pussy. She held back a whimper, which proved to be even harder when he gently pushed it to the side and blew on her weeping slit.
Her matching blue thong was the next thing to come off and he looked up at her with a smile, pushing her legs up so they were bent. “Hold onto the back of your knees for me, sweetheart, and don’t let go. If you let go, I’mma stop. We clear?”
She couldn’t formulate words at that moment so he would have to do with her following his instructions and nodding her head yes, letting out a little ‘mhm’ through bitten lips.
“That’s a good girl. You a good girl right?” She jumped as he lightly smacked her clit, almost letting go of her legs but not quite yet. “Answer me, Ashley.”
“Yes, I’m a good girl.” She managed to grit out.
“Good girls get rewarded, don’t they?” He didn’t wait for an answer, instead diving straight into to put his oh so talented mouth on her pussy. She was biting her lip again, holding back the moans trying to claw their way out. He paused for a moment, spreading her lips with his fingers as he did so. “Uh-uh. I wanna hear you. Let that shit out shawty.”
He went right back to it, thrusting his tongue in & out of her with a force. She could feel one of his thick fingers playing with her clit and she was sure she was letting out noises but honestly, the whole thing was starting to feel like an out of body experience. Her hands gripped the backs of her thighs even tighter as her back arched up. His tongue replaced his finger on her clit and then he inserted that finger into her pussy, followed by a second one. The two together were driving her insane and causing small sweat beads to formulate on her stomach and chest.
“Oh fuck, Tre, I’m gonna cum, oh fuck fuck fuck!” Her moans were breathy, her legs beginning to shake in her hands as she could feel the coil start in her stomach. He nodded his head as he sucked her clit into his mouth and picked up the pace of his fingers. When his fingers curled upwards into her, tapping the roof of her pussy, she dropped her legs on his shoulders and let out a small scream, cumming right into his mouth. He didn’t stop as she was cumming, lapping her up like some whipped cream. He finally pulled away a couple seconds after she finished, sliding back up her body to give a wet kiss on the lips, letting her taste herself on his tongue.
Ash ran her fingers over his defined abs, popping open the button on his jeans and pushing the pants down with her feet. He was practically bursting out of his briefs at that point but she made quick work of those too.
“Condom, condom - get a condom Tre.” She managed to squeak out in between kisses and he pulled away, looking at her for a moment. “What?”
It took him a second but he shook his head. “Nothing. I got you.” He pulled open the bedside drawer, pulling out a Magnum from an already open box. “I’mma finish this box with you, trust me.”
“It’d be my pleasure.” She smirked, biting her bottom lip as he tore open the wrapper with his teeth. “Here, let me.”
Tre closed his eyes as she stroked his member, using the precum at the tip to lubricate the nine inches of him she could. Her hand tightened a bit at the base before sliding back up to slip the condom over him. She was still stroking him as she led him toward her opening, spreading her legs wider for him.
Now, Ash had had sex with a total of two people in her life but neither of them had ever been as big as Tre. Just the tip of him was enough for her to let her mouth open into a perfect ‘O’. She wasn't even sure he could fit all of himself in there but Lord knows, he was gonna give it the good ol’ college try. She moaned as he pushed through, pleasure ripping through every part of her, and kept going until he was fully inside of her.
“Please fuckin’ move, Tre.” She whimpered.
“Gimme a fuckin’ minute, sweetheart. If I move right now, I ain't gonna give you that show you wanted.” His lips connected with hers and then his hips began to thrust into her, rolling. She sighed into the kiss and tried to meet him thrust for thrust. He pulled his head away to bury into her neck. “Fuck, you feel good girl. You been hidin’ this shit from me?”
She wanted to respond smartly but her brain wasn’t formulating cohesive thoughts at the moment. Instead, she dragged her nails down his glistening back and moaned out his name like a chant - “Tre, Tre, Tres, yesssss.”
“S’tight, oh my fucking -” His own thoughts were jumbled as he drove in to her, winding his hips, trying to prolong the moment. He knew that, with the way shit was going, he was gonna have to make her cum at least once more and fast or else he was gonna ruin his own reputation and leave her hanging.
“Right there, yes!” Ashley exclaimed as his thick finger came down to rub her clit again, which paired with the motions of his hips extremely well. Her hands had slid down to his side as he lifted himself up on his arms and she let her nails dig into his skin, creating little marks there he’d probably get whistles about in the locker room tomorrow. “You’re so good, Tre, yes, yes, yes!”
Her last yes came out as a squeal as he picked up his pace, rubbing faster and thrusting without abandon. She could feel that coil in her stomach again, moaning over and over again. Tre felt her tighten around him and let her ride out her second orgasm of the night before his hips began to stutter. He groaned out his release, nearly collapsing on top of her.
“Gahdamn!” He exclaimed, which made her laugh. She whined a bit as he pulled out of her, taking the condom off and climbing out of the bed to walk into the bathroom. He returned moments later, prompting her to rush in after him to clean herself up. When she came back, he’d pulled back the covers and was laying beneath them. She looked at him for a minute with her head tilted. “What?”
“I don’t know, I was expecting for you to make a run for it like ...” Ashley trailed off but he caught her drift.
“Like with Nikki? Well first of all, this is my room this time so not really any option.” He laughed when she scoffed and held up the blanket, patting the spot next to him. She hurried to get under the covers, still naked like he was. “I also kinda wanna keep you around ... to finish off the box, of course.”
“Of course.” She smirked, tucking into his side.
“So?” He inquired. She raised her eyebrow. “Was it as good as it looked from across the courtyard?”
“Hmm ... I think I might need a couple more encores to truly decide.” She tapped her chin like she was deliberating and he rolled his eyes.
“Oh, I’ll show you an encore.” Ashley let out a small shriek that quickly turned into a moan as he rolled her on top of him and began to kiss down her neck, dragging his thick fingers down her body to get her ready all over again.
warnings: 18+, male masturbation, 1.2k words, mdni
steve and sunshine's timeline
thinking about pervybf!steve and the way his sweats would restrict at his lap as his length stiffened when images of you donning that flirty, skimpy little skirt flashed across his mind incessantly. you were irrevocably haunting, in the most beautiful, suffocating way conceivable.
his cock twitched when roaring memories of your breasts cradled in a tank top, so loose, so lacy, that it failed to leave your hard nipples to the imagination, rattled his thoughts. you were nothing short of an ideal portrait that deserved to be plastered on the tallest walls of the biggest museums that the world had to offer.
he stood in front of the sink in his bathroom, t-shirt forgotten while he readied himself to take a shower, when suddenly his eyes caught sight of your perfume toppled over on the counter.
steve chuckled remembering how you were in such a rush this morning.
he made you late every morning as if that was his sole purpose on earth. taming his raging morning wood had essentially become a part of your morning routine. you didn't entirely mind because waking up with his dick pressed up against you made you embarrassingly wet. instantly. and steve was oh-so perfect at helping you out with that "problem".
fucking you was steve's favorite thing in the world to do, truly.
although you couldn't help him out that morning, mumbling something about back to back early morning meetings that you absolutely could not miss or else your boss would have your 'head served on a platter', your words, steve let you go, figuring he needed a few extra minutes of sleep anyway.
with that, you were gone for the day.
he tried to distract himself-- to continue with his shower like he'd intended so he could make *somewhat* of an attempt to make it to work on time; but then his big, brown, damn cursed eyes - like they were taunting him, like they had a mind of their own - found your baby pink silk panties, the ones you'd taken your sweet time sewing steve's initials into, dangling off the edge of the tub as if you'd left them there for him to find. it made him drool like a tormented, starving animal being handed their first meal in weeks.
just like that, his hand snuck below the waistband of his sweats, thankful he'd been too lazy to slip back on the boxers you'd torn off of him the night before. palm and fingers wrapped shamelessly tight around himself.
and there you were in his head. his girl. his sunshine.
the taste of your pussy, that was always so wet for him, dancing across his tongue as he licked you doggedly.
the feeling of the plush of your ass bouncing off of the pit of his stomach as he pounded into you from behind. headboard banging against the wall with every move he made.
the way your back arched so deep for him, like your body was showing him just how trusted he was with it.
the sweat dripping off of his body and mingling with yours with every hard thrust he could muster.
your mouth pressed right up against the shell of his ear when he pulled you flush against his chest, finger frantically strumming your clit as your piercing moans and whimpers echoed off the walls of his brain, struggling to tell him that you were about to cum. your tits recoiling so much it was hypnotizing.
"fuck-- you sound so pretty, baby," he babbled into the thick air of the bathroom, not even having enough room in his head to care that he was babbling into emptiness. that it was his own hand he was fucking, and not really you. he was so far gone, so quickly.
"my perfect girl--fucking hell. you're so good." he retrieved your underwear from where it'd been laying for however long now, trapping it between his teeth as he used both hands to pleasure himself. watching himself in the mirror, he wished he could take a picture with his eyes and send it to you right now, some way, somehow.
god, he was so close.
steve's whimpers ricocheted off the thin walls, filling his ears as quickly as they left his mouth. he was fully aware his neighbors who were just a few feet away could hear him as if they were in the same room. but how could he bring himself to give a shit when it was you, his sunshine, who was clouding his brain like a thunderous storm he didn't want any shelter from? he wanted needed to bask in you, and he'd be damned if he didn't.
he pumped himself with long, tight strokes, thumb brushing over the slit of his tip the same way you do, when you get so bored you can't help but to play with his dick, in all your bright-eyed and fluttering lashes glory.
steve's brain seemed to be playing ping pong, springing back and forth between thoughts of your mouth or your pussy working his cock like this. because while you could make a man cry with your mouth and hand alone, your pussy was the epitome of nirvana. fuck.
his eyes screwed shut, imagining the racy polaroid he had of you in his wallet, too enthralled in the moment to actually go get the damn thing. you were in nothing but a mangled thong pushed to the side of your sloppy slit. steve's cum like spilled paint across your core and lower belly. some of it even found solace in the valley of your breasts. your face was hidden behind your hands, but the smile on your face was anything but shy. your mascara was anywhere but your eyelashes anymore. you looked so fucked out. so beautiful. so his.
his hand found the perfect rhythm. the perfect pressure. he couldn't stop even if he wanted to.
he almost felt pathetic, fucking his own hand, humping the edge of his own sink, face buried in your underwear, moaning and whining profusely. but he knew if he told you about it, you'd love every detail of it. you'd probably even want him to recreate it right then and there in front of you. so, naturally, he felt justified.
in his head he heard you saying all the little mumbled praises and pleads you've always said to him on an almost nightly basis. your voice, forever airy and light for him:
"you're so deep, stevie."
"please don't stop."
"shit, you're fucking me so good."
"please, don't fucking stop."
"i need your cum."
you were so perfect. always. fuck.
"f- fuck, sunny--," he was gonna cum for you. so fucking hard. even if you weren't here.
he pulled your panties from his mouth, spurting his warm, thick, milky ropes of cum all over the front where his "S.H." lied. his head fell back, jaw slack as short, strained groans ripping out of his throat, while his release spewed out of him. he was seeing nothing but stars and that proud smirk you never failed to have whenever you made him cum like this. his finishing thrusts were lazy yet uncontrolled, the last bits of his seed flying onto the faucet and dripping off the edge of the mirror.
his heart was racing, chest heaving as he came down. he used your underwear to clean off the sink that fell victim to his very much needed orgasm, now fully equipped to start his day.
💌 1 new message from jojo: wrote this last night while i was drunk and ovulating. i also haven't written in just about two years, so i'm rusty i fear! but writing this made me realize how much i love and miss writing so i think i'm back?? idk but i hope you enjoy this regardless! i've missed my steve and sunshine 🙃 inbox is open!
