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I’m Mari—short for Mariam. I’m nineteen years old, and I enjoy all things JJK, K-pop, The Marauders, Supernatural, The Boys, Call Of Duty, Guns N' Roses and 80s rock related. Just a clusterfuck of fandoms, I know. Can we tell I’m chronically online?
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★ . . situationship!toji making you cūm mid-argument.
the tv flickers with some random action movie neither of you are really paying attention to.
you’re tucked against your eight months situation ship (?) side on the couch, legs spread lazily over his thigh, his big hand shoved down the front of your loose shorts. two thick fingers are lazily circling your clit, slow and almost absent-minded, like he’s just playing with you out of boredom while he watches the screen.
you’re trying to stay focused on the argument you started five minutes ago.
“i’m serious, toji,” you snap, voice a little breathy despite yourself. “you can’t just disappear for days and then show up like nothing happened. i’m not your fucking doormat—”
“mm,” he hums, not even looking at you. his fingers keep rubbing lazy little circles over your swollen clit, slick sounds barely audible under the movie. “you done yelling yet?”
you clench your jaw, heat crawling up your neck. “no, i’m not done. you always do this shit. you think you can just—”
his middle finger presses harder, dragging slow and firm right over the sensitive bundle of nerves. your breath hitches mid-sentence. toji’s lips twitch like he’s fighting a smirk, eyes still glued to the tv like he’s barely invested in what his hand is doing between your legs.
“keep going,” he says calmly. “i’m listening.”
you try. you realllly do. but his touch is getting more deliberate now, fingers sliding down to spread your wetness before coming back up to rub tight, slick circles on your clit. your thighs twitch, one foot pressing into the couch cushion.
“you’re such an asshole,” you hiss, but your voice is losing its edge. “you disappear, you don’t text, you don’t—fuck—”
toji’s finger speeds up just a fraction, still lazy but consistent, perfect pressure that makes your hips start to roll into his hand without your permission. he finally glances over at you, eyes dark and amused.
“what was that?” he asks, voice low and smug. “i didn’t catch the last part, sweetheart.”
you grab his wrist, but you don’t pull him away. your breathing is getting faster, chest rising and falling as the pleasure builds against your will. “i said… you’re a selfish prick, toji—”
he chuckles, low and rough, and suddenly his fingers move faster, rubbing your clit with firm, relentless strokes. your shorts are soaked, the fabric sticking to you as his thick fingers work you open. your argument is crumbling, words turning into soft, broken gasps.
“yeah?” he murmurs, finally turning his full attention to you. “keep telling me how much you hate me while you’re dripping all over my hand.”
your head falls back against the couch, hips grinding desperately into his palm. the tv noise fades into background static. all you can focus on is the tight, aching heat building fast between your legs.
“toji— fuck, i’m— i’m still mad at you—”
“i know,” he says, almost sweetly, but his fingers don’t stop. he rubs your clit faster, harder, using the slick mess you’re making to glide perfectly over that sensitive spot. “cum anyway.”
it hits you mid-breath.
your back arches off the couch as the orgasm crashes through you, sudden and brutal. your thighs clamp around his hand, hips jerking, a broken moan ripping from your throat while he keeps rubbing you through it. toji watches your face the entire time, eyes half-lidded, that lazy smirk finally breaking across his mouth as you shake and whimper.
he doesn’t stop until you’re twitching, oversensitive and gasping, weakly pushing at his wrist. only then does he pull his hand out of your shorts, fingers shiny and dripping with you. he brings them to his mouth and licks them clean, slow and deliberate, while you try to catch your breath.
“you were saying?” he asks, voice thick with amusement.
you glare at him, still panting, thighs trembling.
“i still hate you,” you mutter weakly.
toji chuckles and leans in, pressing a rough kiss to your neck.
Synopsis: A SMAU in which Toji deals with the consequences of being the world's worst baby daddy on the planet.
CW: Cursing, toxic dynamics (babymama!reader, babydaddy!Toji), abandonment of a toddler (by Toji), mentions of filling for full custody, angst, hurt/no comfort, Toji being Toji, mentions of alcoholism, mentions of gambling, mentions of hitmen/assasination, manipulation attempts (by Toji).
—
A/N: Should I make this into a fic? Or keep it in SMAU style? Because I’m definitely making a Pt. 2 !! PS: I apologize for any typo I may have made.
Synopsis: A SMAU in which Toji deals with the consequences of being the world's worst baby daddy on the planet.
CW: Cursing, toxic dynamics (babymama!reader, babydaddy!Toji), abandonment of a toddler (by Toji), mentions of filling for full custody, angst, hurt/no comfort, Toji being Toji, mentions of alcoholism, mentions of gambling, mentions of hitmen/assasination, manipulation attempts (by Toji).
—
A/N: Should I make this into a fic? Or keep it in SMAU style? Because I’m definitely making a Pt. 2 !! PS: I apologize for any typo I may have made.
Synopsis: texts with your situationship frat!Kuna.
CW: 18+ MDNI. Sukuna very much acts like a typical frat guy, he’s gross and demanding, misogynistic language, toxic dynamics, sorta dubcon, both reader and Sukuna are mean to each other, but Sukuna is inarguably worse. I do not condone this kind of behavior whatsoever.
—
A/N: don’t we just love the little surprise pic in the end?🥹✌🏼 btw I apologize for any typo I may have made, I did ts at like 1:30 am…
Synopsis: let’s just say, reader and plug!Choso got a liiiittle bit too carried away with the weed one night and end up having the nastiest, yet somehow most loving couch sex on the fucking planet.
cw: smut/18+/mdni, very situationship vibes, mentions and consumption of drugs (cannabis), couch sex, p in v, softdom!Choso, confessions of love right after the act, that dick is biiiiiggggg, making it fit, friends to lovers, missionary position, talking you through it, slightly pussydrunk Choso, cockdrunk reader, not proofread!
Wc: 2.2k
Choso was a household name in Jujutsu Tech University, but not for the reasons you might expect.
He wasn’t a fucking frat guy like Fushiguro or Ryomen, hell no. He was the uni’s resident weed plug, dealing to everybody who was willing to provide the funds for it.
Don’t even get him started on how much business would boom during exam season.
Bitches were desperate.
And although he had an endless amount of clients, Choso would be lying if he said he didn’t have a favorite—you. You two have developed a nice client-dealer relationship over the course of the two years of you buying from him, and it was safe to say that Choso considered you as a friend.
The feeling was absolutely mutual.
So you don’t hesitate whatsoever when you called him up on a Saturday night, after having just ordered a greasy pepperoni pizza and a bunch of chicken wings, waiting for the call to Choso go through.
“Yeah, what’s up?” His velvety rumble of a voice filled the room, literally, since you hadn’t bothered with pressing the phone to your ear, letting the speaker button do its job.
“Cho, can you come over? I’m all out,” you complain, shifting on the couch so that you were lying down on your stomach.
“Yeah, sure. I’m just with Suguru right now, hold up. I’ll be there in thirty,” was the last sentence he said to you before the line went dead.
And indeed, half an hour later, the emo dealer was knocking on your door.
The familiar scene of your apartment was what greeted Choso once he was politely invited in by you with a small hug for a hello, not prolonged by any means, but not awkward, either.
“Hey, come on in!” You closed the door behind you as he made himself comfortable on your couch, right before plopping down on the soft cushion beside him.
“I got you everything. It’s a different brand from my dealer, though, so you can try it for free, just in case you don’t like it, or whatever,” the casualty in his voice never failed to send shivers down your spine, despite how trival the little detail seemed to be.
Maybe it was his stupidly effortless charm that made everything about him so frustratingly smooth and irresistible.
But anyway, enough of the endless pining on your part. Here comes the inevitable sequence where both of you get high.
And lord, did that first drag hit. The new, advanced formula that Choso had been talking about was definitely no joke.
It had you heaving and gasping for air in breathless coughs like you had never smoked weed before—a bit of an embarrassing sight, to be completely honest.
Choso chuckles warmly at the pitiful sight of you, gently patting your back in an anttempt to help you cough all the congestion out.
“Easy there, tiger,” he teases, voice deep and the corner of his lips pulled into a smirk so unfairly sexy in a way that had your already high mind reeling in involuntary silence.
The second drag is easier on your now—burned throat and already overstimulated lungs adjusting to the unforgiving kick easily enough.
You share the blunt, passing it back and forth in between one another.
And another.
And then another.
Which explains why it took you what seemed like ages to hear your phone ringing.
It was the delivery guy.
Oh, right. The pizza and wings you had ordered before Choso had gotten here.
The pizza and wings you two tore absolutely the fuck up after you thank the delivery man and give him a nice, hefty tip.
Well, as hefty as a broke college student could afford to give out—but hey! At least you tip people.
Everything feels sluggish and slowed down after somewhere around the third blunt, your movements whenever you did bother to move at all lacking any sort of grace to them.
Choso was in the same predicament.
The movie playing on the TV hadn’t been forgotten, though. You two make a very attentive audience, apparently.
Plus, everybody knew Grease was a phenomenal movie.
But there was a moment when you attention span seemed to have blurred significantly, perhaps, an hour into the movie.
Because the unhurried eye contact you two began sharing after a particularly funny scene, felt natural, like it was meant to happen.
“Y'know, you’re my favorite client,” he was the one that broke the silence, although, could you even call that breaking the silence? His voice was so quiet, you could barely hear him.
“And you’re my only dealer,” you manage to whisper in response.
Well, at least, that’s what you thought you said.
Nope. You fucking wish you said that shit.
“N' you’re the hottest guy on this fuckin' campus,” was what you actually slurred out, the drug-induced high making you admit things you’d usually refuse to admit to even yourself.
Shit.
Seeing the surprise on Choso’s face should’ve been enough of a wake up call for you.
But turns out, your bodies ended up being a lot closer to each other than you thought they were, because you and Choso were, very much, face to face.
His breath fanned over your long, dark lashes, and you take your bottom lip in between your sharp, almost canine-like teeth.
Which, given, has Choso groaning. Because he’s a healthy straight man with a working pair of beautiful eyes and working dick.
An extremely hard, long, veiny dick, that seemed to be very eager to jump right out of the grey sweatpants that were currently hanging dangerously low on his defined hipbones.
God, that cock was just begging for a blowjob.
You were forced to snap out of your insitent staring contest with his growing bluge, when two large fingers hooked right underneath your chin, pulling your gaze upward to meet Choso’s.
Hey, your eyes were equally red!
“You have no idea how badly I’ve been wanting you, baby…” you snap out of your daze for the second time at the sound of his sighed words, and before you knew it, Choso was pulling you in for a kiss.
Soft, pillowy cushions found each other in a tight locked embrace, slow and unhurried, despite your thoughts otherwise.
Neither of you realized how slow the pace you two were actually going at was. Hell, both you and Choso were thinking that it was all a messy clash of tongues, teeth and saliva.
But in reality, the drugs had slowed your systems down so much, engulfed you two in ecstasy so deep, that shit was meddling with your brain chemistry.
In other words, you were basically melting into one another.
Tongues moved in tandem, swirling spit around in each other’s mouths, sucking slow.
Choso groaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating against your sensitive lips, sending shivers of attraction down your spine, the feeling intensifying when he guided you down onto your back against the couch.
His hair was messy and undone, the spiky pigtails now free—framing his gorgeous features perfectly.
“Cho…” you breathe, pulling back for air.
“Baby…” he replies, brown eyes staring back at you.
It’s only a matter of desperation and time before clothes start ripping and flying all over the place, and before you know it…
Choso was guiding two of his thick fingers against your entrance, your wet cunt sucking the digits in with zero hesitance.
Both of you groaned at the wet squelch of the first thrust of his fingers forward, and your needy gasp had Choso’s cock throbbing alive in his pants.
“Mfuck, wan' your cock so bad,” you whine, eyebrows furrowing in frustration.
“I know, I know, baby. You think I don’t wanna burry myself in that pretty pussy? So wet f'me,” he reassured you with wet kisses to your jawline.
“But I just need you stretch you out for me a little. S'not gonna fit otherwise,” the promise was clear in his voice, and it had you clenching around him.
His fingers move within you like he was trying to prepare you for something much more intimidating, and he was.
And right before your first climax overtook your already overstimulated body, you were overcome by a sudden, and very overwhelming, feeling of emptiness.
A squirm. A pant. A whine.
And a coo from your sweet baby Choso, his knuckles brushing over your flushed cheekbone, whispering sweet nothings into your skin.
“Shh, it’s okay… you’re not getting punished, you’re doing amazing.”
You’d been so caught up in your need to chase the peak that his fingers provided, that you hadn’t even noticed that his boxers had been long discarded.
Stroking up and down the lenght of his painfully hard cock, tracing the veins simultaneously, Choso felt like he was in heaven already.
And suddenly, the atmosphere was really easy to pay attention to.
Everything felt so heavy, in the most delicious sense of the word. You find yourself enjoying how thick the air in the room was, how you felt the need to cling to him at any and every given moment.
Choso proceeded to line himself up with your fluttering hole, though not before teasing the drooly folds with that perfectly pink tip of his.
Trust me when I say, that your cunt tried to fit Choso in, to suck it right into your snug warmth and keep him there.
But that dick was just.
Not.
Fitting.
“Mmngghh… c- can’t fit,” you whine the obvious, chest rising up and down frantically.
“Fuuuckk… you a -ngh- virgin, or something? Shhitt, hahh- ssso t- t- tighttt…” Choso’s attempts at guiding his cock into your pussy seemed to be never ending.
But, patience prevails, am I right?
Because soon enough, he realized that one sudden thrust was all it took.
“Theere we gooo, good girl. You’re so beautiful, so amazing,” his pace was steady and careful, as to not hurt you—based off of how you gasped when he finally did enter you, nails digging into his back in the most delectable way.
He built a stable pace, because God knows Choso was all about slow strokes and sweet songs of praise in bed.
With your legs around his waist and his cock burried to the hilt inside of your velvety walls, all he ever wanted to do was to make love to you, and to stay there.
“O- oh, shhoo ggoodd…” each thwap!thawp!thawp! of his pelvis against yours blended in with your unrestrained cries of pleasure, slurred and needy.
The kisses that Choso trailed along the warm skin of your neck were like gentle imprints of his love, soft and sweet in comparison to the mind-numbingly overstimulating manner in which his thick cock was hammering into your tight cunt.
“Hhahh- I’m- h- ssoo… nghh- close, Cho…” he could feel the way you clenched around him, wet pussy sucking him in deeper and deeper, making each thrust more difficult to execute.
“M- me t- too, baby,” Choso nodded, his right hand sneaking down to softly press down on your lower abdomen, increasing pressure to ensure your impending orgasm followed suit with his.
His rhythmic thrusts began growing further more shallow the longer he continued to hold off his need for release.
“Cum f'me, sweetheart. I’m right there with you, yeah?” He breathed.
Then came a sharp snap of his hips forward.
And then another.
And another.
And so your highs built.
And built.
With each grind of his cock deeper into your snug heat.
“Ahh- m'gonna- Choso!” the orgasm had been a slow build up—like a volcanic explosion, showing signs of it’s approach.
And when it did errupt, it was so powerful it left you dazed. It hit you like a an earthquake, shaking you to your core.
Literally.
Your stomach muscles convulsed beyond your control, hips writhing off of the bed and morphing your back in a deep arch, and your poor, poor legs were left shaking and trembling.
Choso followed suit not even a minute later. A few more shallow thrusts was all it took for his hips to lock up, emptying himself inside of you. Ropes of cum spurted out into your empty womb, painting your insides white with his fertile semen.
And his groans… good lord, the sounds that man made.
It was something in between a a groan and a pathetic whimper, something akin to a puppy’s pitiful noises.
“Mmnn, love you, sweetheart…” his breaths were shallow, ragged, and so were yours, chests heaving as you two basked in the immediate afterglows of your orgasms.
But then, your body froze.
Did he just-
Yeah, he did.
“Choso, I-“ you began, but were soon cut off by Choso’s embarrassed ramblings.
“I- I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for that to come out the way it did,” his panicked eyes searched for yours in hopes of understanding.
“I mean, you’re lovely. Not that I don’t love you. A- as a friend, of course. Well, not as a friend, we just had sex-“
“Choso. Choso, shut up,” an amused smile spread across your lips, eyes twinkling with that same emotion.
“I love you, too, Cho,” you whisper, the words sending shivers down his spine, warmth spreading through his chest.
“You mean it?” As if in disbelief, Choso froze.
“Every word, baby. Been wanting to say it for a long time,” nodding, you confirm with a soft chuckle.
And then, in true Disney style, the two of you lock lips in a magical kiss, all fireworks and exploding emotions, one that carried much more weight to it, than the ones prior to his impromptu confession.
And it sure wouldn’t be the last.
—
A/N: writer’s block is such a bitch. So sorry this took me forever to finish :( I hope y’all like it though <3
Synopsis: let’s just say, reader and plug!Choso got a liiiittle bit too carried away with the weed one night and end up having the nastiest, yet somehow most loving couch sex on the fucking planet.
cw: smut/18+/mdni, very situationship vibes, mentions and consumption of drugs (cannabis), couch sex, p in v, softdom!Choso, confessions of love right after the act, that dick is biiiiiggggg, making it fit, friends to lovers, missionary position, talking you through it, slightly pussydrunk Choso, cockdrunk reader, not proofread!
Wc: 2.2k
Choso was a household name in Jujutsu Tech University, but not for the reasons you might expect.
He wasn’t a fucking frat guy like Fushiguro or Ryomen, hell no. He was the uni’s resident weed plug, dealing to everybody who was willing to provide the funds for it.
Don’t even get him started on how much business would boom during exam season.
Bitches were desperate.
And although he had an endless amount of clients, Choso would be lying if he said he didn’t have a favorite—you. You two have developed a nice client-dealer relationship over the course of the two years of you buying from him, and it was safe to say that Choso considered you as a friend.
The feeling was absolutely mutual.
So you don’t hesitate whatsoever when you called him up on a Saturday night, after having just ordered a greasy pepperoni pizza and a bunch of chicken wings, waiting for the call to Choso go through.
“Yeah, what’s up?” His velvety rumble of a voice filled the room, literally, since you hadn’t bothered with pressing the phone to your ear, letting the speaker button do its job.
“Cho, can you come over? I’m all out,” you complain, shifting on the couch so that you were lying down on your stomach.
“Yeah, sure. I’m just with Suguru right now, hold up. I’ll be there in thirty,” was the last sentence he said to you before the line went dead.
And indeed, half an hour later, the emo dealer was knocking on your door.
The familiar scene of your apartment was what greeted Choso once he was politely invited in by you with a small hug for a hello, not prolonged by any means, but not awkward, either.
“Hey, come on in!” You closed the door behind you as he made himself comfortable on your couch, right before plopping down on the soft cushion beside him.
“I got you everything. It’s a different brand from my dealer, though, so you can try it for free, just in case you don’t like it, or whatever,” the casualty in his voice never failed to send shivers down your spine, despite how trival the little detail seemed to be.
Maybe it was his stupidly effortless charm that made everything about him so frustratingly smooth and irresistible.
But anyway, enough of the endless pining on your part. Here comes the inevitable sequence where both of you get high.
And lord, did that first drag hit. The new, advanced formula that Choso had been talking about was definitely no joke.
It had you heaving and gasping for air in breathless coughs like you had never smoked weed before—a bit of an embarrassing sight, to be completely honest.
Choso chuckles warmly at the pitiful sight of you, gently patting your back in an anttempt to help you cough all the congestion out.
“Easy there, tiger,” he teases, voice deep and the corner of his lips pulled into a smirk so unfairly sexy in a way that had your already high mind reeling in involuntary silence.
The second drag is easier on your now—burned throat and already overstimulated lungs adjusting to the unforgiving kick easily enough.
You share the blunt, passing it back and forth in between one another.
And another.
And then another.
Which explains why it took you what seemed like ages to hear your phone ringing.
It was the delivery guy.
Oh, right. The pizza and wings you had ordered before Choso had gotten here.
The pizza and wings you two tore absolutely the fuck up after you thank the delivery man and give him a nice, hefty tip.
Well, as hefty as a broke college student could afford to give out—but hey! At least you tip people.
Everything feels sluggish and slowed down after somewhere around the third blunt, your movements whenever you did bother to move at all lacking any sort of grace to them.
Choso was in the same predicament.
The movie playing on the TV hadn’t been forgotten, though. You two make a very attentive audience, apparently.
Plus, everybody knew Grease was a phenomenal movie.
But there was a moment when you attention span seemed to have blurred significantly, perhaps, an hour into the movie.
Because the unhurried eye contact you two began sharing after a particularly funny scene, felt natural, like it was meant to happen.
“Y'know, you’re my favorite client,” he was the one that broke the silence, although, could you even call that breaking the silence? His voice was so quiet, you could barely hear him.
“And you’re my only dealer,” you manage to whisper in response.
Well, at least, that’s what you thought you said.
Nope. You fucking wish you said that shit.
“N' you’re the hottest guy on this fuckin' campus,” was what you actually slurred out, the drug-induced high making you admit things you’d usually refuse to admit to even yourself.
Shit.
Seeing the surprise on Choso’s face should’ve been enough of a wake up call for you.
But turns out, your bodies ended up being a lot closer to each other than you thought they were, because you and Choso were, very much, face to face.
His breath fanned over your long, dark lashes, and you take your bottom lip in between your sharp, almost canine-like teeth.
Which, given, has Choso groaning. Because he’s a healthy straight man with a working pair of beautiful eyes and working dick.
An extremely hard, long, veiny dick, that seemed to be very eager to jump right out of the grey sweatpants that were currently hanging dangerously low on his defined hipbones.
God, that cock was just begging for a blowjob.
You were forced to snap out of your insitent staring contest with his growing bluge, when two large fingers hooked right underneath your chin, pulling your gaze upward to meet Choso’s.
Hey, your eyes were equally red!
“You have no idea how badly I’ve been wanting you, baby…” you snap out of your daze for the second time at the sound of his sighed words, and before you knew it, Choso was pulling you in for a kiss.
Soft, pillowy cushions found each other in a tight locked embrace, slow and unhurried, despite your thoughts otherwise.
Neither of you realized how slow the pace you two were actually going at was. Hell, both you and Choso were thinking that it was all a messy clash of tongues, teeth and saliva.
But in reality, the drugs had slowed your systems down so much, engulfed you two in ecstasy so deep, that shit was meddling with your brain chemistry.
In other words, you were basically melting into one another.
Tongues moved in tandem, swirling spit around in each other’s mouths, sucking slow.
Choso groaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating against your sensitive lips, sending shivers of attraction down your spine, the feeling intensifying when he guided you down onto your back against the couch.
His hair was messy and undone, the spiky pigtails now free—framing his gorgeous features perfectly.
“Cho…” you breathe, pulling back for air.
“Baby…” he replies, brown eyes staring back at you.
It’s only a matter of desperation and time before clothes start ripping and flying all over the place, and before you know it…
Choso was guiding two of his thick fingers against your entrance, your wet cunt sucking the digits in with zero hesitance.
Both of you groaned at the wet squelch of the first thrust of his fingers forward, and your needy gasp had Choso’s cock throbbing alive in his pants.
“Mfuck, wan' your cock so bad,” you whine, eyebrows furrowing in frustration.
“I know, I know, baby. You think I don’t wanna burry myself in that pretty pussy? So wet f'me,” he reassured you with wet kisses to your jawline.
“But I just need you stretch you out for me a little. S'not gonna fit otherwise,” the promise was clear in his voice, and it had you clenching around him.
His fingers move within you like he was trying to prepare you for something much more intimidating, and he was.
And right before your first climax overtook your already overstimulated body, you were overcome by a sudden, and very overwhelming, feeling of emptiness.
A squirm. A pant. A whine.
And a coo from your sweet baby Choso, his knuckles brushing over your flushed cheekbone, whispering sweet nothings into your skin.
“Shh, it’s okay… you’re not getting punished, you’re doing amazing.”
You’d been so caught up in your need to chase the peak that his fingers provided, that you hadn’t even noticed that his boxers had been long discarded.
Stroking up and down the lenght of his painfully hard cock, tracing the veins simultaneously, Choso felt like he was in heaven already.
And suddenly, the atmosphere was really easy to pay attention to.
Everything felt so heavy, in the most delicious sense of the word. You find yourself enjoying how thick the air in the room was, how you felt the need to cling to him at any and every given moment.
Choso proceeded to line himself up with your fluttering hole, though not before teasing the drooly folds with that perfectly pink tip of his.
Trust me when I say, that your cunt tried to fit Choso in, to suck it right into your snug warmth and keep him there.
But that dick was just.
Not.
Fitting.
“Mmngghh… c- can’t fit,” you whine the obvious, chest rising up and down frantically.
“Fuuuckk… you a -ngh- virgin, or something? Shhitt, hahh- ssso t- t- tighttt…” Choso’s attempts at guiding his cock into your pussy seemed to be never ending.
But, patience prevails, am I right?
Because soon enough, he realized that one sudden thrust was all it took.
“Theere we gooo, good girl. You’re so beautiful, so amazing,” his pace was steady and careful, as to not hurt you—based off of how you gasped when he finally did enter you, nails digging into his back in the most delectable way.
He built a stable pace, because God knows Choso was all about slow strokes and sweet songs of praise in bed.
With your legs around his waist and his cock burried to the hilt inside of your velvety walls, all he ever wanted to do was to make love to you, and to stay there.
“O- oh, shhoo ggoodd…” each thwap!thawp!thawp! of his pelvis against yours blended in with your unrestrained cries of pleasure, slurred and needy.
The kisses that Choso trailed along the warm skin of your neck were like gentle imprints of his love, soft and sweet in comparison to the mind-numbingly overstimulating manner in which his thick cock was hammering into your tight cunt.
“Hhahh- I’m- h- ssoo… nghh- close, Cho…” he could feel the way you clenched around him, wet pussy sucking him in deeper and deeper, making each thrust more difficult to execute.
“M- me t- too, baby,” Choso nodded, his right hand sneaking down to softly press down on your lower abdomen, increasing pressure to ensure your impending orgasm followed suit with his.
His rhythmic thrusts began growing further more shallow the longer he continued to hold off his need for release.
“Cum f'me, sweetheart. I’m right there with you, yeah?” He breathed.
Then came a sharp snap of his hips forward.
And then another.
And another.
And so your highs built.
And built.
With each grind of his cock deeper into your snug heat.
“Ahh- m'gonna- Choso!” the orgasm had been a slow build up—like a volcanic explosion, showing signs of it’s approach.
And when it did errupt, it was so powerful it left you dazed. It hit you like a an earthquake, shaking you to your core.
Literally.
Your stomach muscles convulsed beyond your control, hips writhing off of the bed and morphing your back in a deep arch, and your poor, poor legs were left shaking and trembling.
Choso followed suit not even a minute later. A few more shallow thrusts was all it took for his hips to lock up, emptying himself inside of you. Ropes of cum spurted out into your empty womb, painting your insides white with his fertile semen.
And his groans… good lord, the sounds that man made.
It was something in between a a groan and a pathetic whimper, something akin to a puppy’s pitiful noises.
“Mmnn, love you, sweetheart…” his breaths were shallow, ragged, and so were yours, chests heaving as you two basked in the immediate afterglows of your orgasms.
But then, your body froze.
Did he just-
Yeah, he did.
“Choso, I-“ you began, but were soon cut off by Choso’s embarrassed ramblings.
“I- I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for that to come out the way it did,” his panicked eyes searched for yours in hopes of understanding.
“I mean, you’re lovely. Not that I don’t love you. A- as a friend, of course. Well, not as a friend, we just had sex-“
“Choso. Choso, shut up,” an amused smile spread across your lips, eyes twinkling with that same emotion.
“I love you, too, Cho,” you whisper, the words sending shivers down his spine, warmth spreading through his chest.
“You mean it?” As if in disbelief, Choso froze.
“Every word, baby. Been wanting to say it for a long time,” nodding, you confirm with a soft chuckle.
And then, in true Disney style, the two of you lock lips in a magical kiss, all fireworks and exploding emotions, one that carried much more weight to it, than the ones prior to his impromptu confession.
And it sure wouldn’t be the last.
—
A/N: writer’s block is such a bitch. So sorry this took me forever to finish :( I hope y’all like it though <3
summary: soldier boy saw you sleeping on the streets and decided he was gonna take care of you. now, tucked away in a house in the woods, you were his dirty little secret.
cw: 18+ dead dove do not eat, daddy kink, emotional dependency, toxic relationship, stockholm syndrome, family issues, manipulation, domestic violence, praise kink, degradation, obsession, violence, breathplay, dubcon.
wc: 6.5k
you were only eighteen when your mom kicked you out, after she started dating some idiot who didn't like you. you were survivin', it was hard, but you were still alive. you only ate when someone gave you money or restaurant leftovers. you slept on a dirty, old mattress in the back of a dark alley. after a week, you felt weaker, no strength to walk around askin' for food.
when soldier boy found you in that alley, left there, alone, you thought that’d be the end. he looked like a giant, and the fear paralyzed you.
"fuck, look at you," he muttered, the disgust in his voice wasn't at you, but at how they left you. "left here like trash. you got nobody, do you?"
you tried to pull back, but your back hit the cold wall. your lips trembled, but no sound came out. he knelt in front of you.
before you could process it, you felt huge, firm hands slide under your knees and back. he lifted you off that dirty mattress like you were made of paper. the contrast between the alley's filth and the heat comin' off him was shockin'. you were so small in his arms that your head just fell against his rigid chest.
"you're comin' with me," he declared, already walkin' out of the alley, ignorin' your shivers.
when the car stopped and he opened the door, the silence of the forest around the house was scary. soldier boy guided you inside with a firm hand on your back—not a push, but you felt like if you tried to run, he’d crush you before the first step.
as soon as you entered, the heat of the house hit your face, but it wasn't enough to stop your shakin'. the house was warm and cozy. he tossed the keys on the table and turned to you, still standin' near the door, rainwater drippin' from your dirty clothes and stainin' his rug.
"don't just stand there like a statue. sit down," he said, his raspy voice echoin' off the walls.
you walked with tiny steps to the dark leather sofa. sat on the very edge, knees tucked to your chest and arms around your legs, hidin' your face.
you couldn't stop lookin' at his hands while he took off his coat. hands you'd seen blurry on the news, stained with blood and dust from fallen buildin's. every move he made, every heavy step on the wood floor, made you shrink a bit more, buryin' your face in your knees.
ben stood in the middle of the room, starin' at you for a while. the silence was agonizin'. you felt the weight of his gaze, judgin' every inch of your shakin' body.
"fuck, you're dyin' of fear, aren't you?" he asked, and it wasn't really a question, just a fact that seemed to amuse and annoy him at the same time.
you didn't answer. no voice would come out. you just squeezed your legs tighter, closin' your eyes hard, hopin' if you stayed quiet, he'd forget you were there. but ben didn't forget. he took a step towards you and you let out a tiny gasp, buryin' your head between your knees.
ben sighed, a long, heavy sound, but he didn't seem mad.
"it's okay. i get it. you're scared. i won't force anythin' now," he muttered. "i gotta go out. you got nothin' here... no decent clothes, no food a normal person eats. i'm gonna get some things for you."
he walked to the door and stopped for a sec, lookin' at you over his shoulder.
"don't leave. it ain't safe for you out there, and i don't wanna have to hunt you down. stay here, and nothin'll happen to you. i promise."
when the door slammed and the engine sound faded, the silence became unbearable. you stayed there, motionless, for what felt like hours. loneliness mixed with trauma. every creak of the wood, every gust of wind, sounded like someone comin' to get you. your mind played the worst scenarios: what if he didn't come back? what if he left you there to die? or worse, what if he was comin' back to do to you what you saw him do to others on tv?
the fear consumed you. you started sobbin', a quiet, desperate cry, body rockin' back and forth. you felt small, lost, completely at the mercy of a monster.
more than an hour later, the car sound returned. the door opened and ben walked in carryin' bags. he was loaded with stuff: soft clothes, hygiene products, and real food. he stopped in the middle of the room when he heard you cryin'.
he dropped the things quickly on the counter and stepped towards you, face pinched in an expression tryin' to be soft, but still way too imposin'.
"hey, girl... what's it? i was only gone for an hour," he said, reachin' out to try and touch your face to wipe a tear.
the move was a trigger. you let out a low whimper of terror and, by instinct, started crawlin' back, draggin' yourself to the other side of the sofa. your eyes were wide, pupils dilated in pure panic, fixed on every move he made like he was gonna attack.
ben stopped. he slowly pulled his hand back, seein' you shake, almost fallin' off the cushion from fear. he let out a heavy sigh, but didn't look angry. he just stepped back, givin' you the space you were beggin' for with your eyes.
"it's okay. alright, i get it," he muttered, keepin' his hands visible. "i won't get close, hm? relax. i just wanted to help, but i'll stay here. it's okay."
he backed off and went back to the bags on the counter. he started takin' things out, one by one, speakin' in a flat, calm tone, like he was tryin' to tame a hurt bird.
"look... i didn't really know what you liked, so i got things that felt softest," he said, pullin' out clothes, underwear, socks. "and i got those smelly things women like... vanilla soap, shampoo, all that shit."
he put each item on the table, organizin' it all with a patience you never thought soldier boy would have. he showed the clothes, the soaps, and even some cookies and chocolates he thought you might like.
"i'll leave it all on the table, okay? they're yours. you can take a hot bath, put these on, and eat whatever you want. i'll be out on the porch smokin'. i won't come in till you're done, promise."
he gave you one last look, heavy, but without the malice or fury you knew he had. it was almost like he was satisfied seein' you safe, even if you were terrified of him. he turned and walked out the front door, leavin' you alone with all the new stuff.
you walked to the bathroom with shaky legs, holdin' the new clothes against your chest like a shield. the hot water helped wash away the dirt. every noise outside made you freeze under the shower, waitin' for the door to burst open. but nothin' happened.
when you came out, wearin' a hoodie that was huge on you, the smell of hot food filled the house. ben was in the kitchen, back turned, stirrin' a pot. the sound of metal and the sizzle of the fire were the only noises. you walked real slow, tryin' not to make a sound, and sat on the edge of the kitchen chair, keepin' your head down, eyes on your hands.
he came over and put a plate with rice, chicken, and potatoes in front of you. it was simple, but smelled amazing. he sat across from you and started eatin' his in silence. you stayed still. your stomach hurt from hunger, but the panic of makin' a wrong move was bigger. you didn't touch the silverware, just kept lookin' down, damp hair fallin' over your face.
"eat, girl. i didn't make this for it to get cold on the plate," he said, voice low but firm.
you didn't move. silence stretched for a few seconds, gettin' heavier, until you heard his fork hit the plate hard.
"i'm tryin' to be patient, but don't test me," he growled, and this time the authority made you shiver. "you gotta eat. you lookin' like a skeleton. now pick up the fork."
you stayed paralyzed, tears prickin' your eyes again. fear locked you up. ben let out an annoyed sigh and leaned over the table, his shadow coverin' you.
"look at me," he ordered. you raised your eyes slow, findin' his blue eyes locked on yours. "either you eat this shit on your own, or i'm gonna sit there, open your mouth, and shove every bit down your throat. you choose. i ain't lettin' you starve in front of me."
his tone left no doubt: he’d do exactly that. with hands shakin' so much the fork clinked against the plate, you took a bit of food. it was good. hot, seasoned, and delicious—somethin' you didn't expect from a man like him. you kept eatin', chewin' slow under his watchful eye. ben relaxed in his chair, watchin' your every move, and a tiny smirk appeared on his face.
"good girl," he murmured, goin' back to his food.
in the days that followed, he changed his strategy. he didn't force physical contact anymore and spoke as little as possible. meals became rituals of pure silence. you'd sit at the table and he’d be in front of you, the only sound being the silverware. you ate with your head down, still feelin' that chill down your spine whenever he shifted or sighed, but the fear was now quiet, swallowed with the food.
he didn't want to leave you alone in the room, so he started doin' his routine right there, in your presence, so you’d get used to him. he’d spend hours sittin' there, the strong smell of weed fillin' the air as he puffed on a joint with a lost look, or he’d be focused, rubbin' oil on the heavy metal of his shield.
the silence was absolute, broken only by the sound of metal being polished or his heavy breath. until, one afternoon, he stopped what he was doin' and stared at you for a long time.
"you mute?" he asked, his raspy voice cuttin' the air like a blade. "if you are, i'll find a way to get someone to teach us signs or whatever fuckin' thing they use nowadays."
you hesitated, heart hammerin', but eventually shook your head slow. it was your first sign of voluntary interaction.
ben gave a little smirk, blew a cloud of smoke to the side, and went back to the shield.
"look at that... we're makin' progress," he said, tone a bit lighter, almost amused. "at least now i know you talk. one step at a time, little girl. one step at a time."
the routine at the cabin had a new rhythm, but still fragile. you didn't run to the corners anymore when he entered, and you weren't scared he’d explode at you every second. everythin' was okay.
that mornin', ben showed up in the kitchen already in uniform. he looked at you for a moment while you stirred your tea, eyes down.
"gotta go, doll," he said, grabbin' the shield. "should be back at the usual time. behave."
as usual, you said nothin'. just felt the weight of his gaze before the door slammed and the forest silence returned.
the time he usually arrived passed. one minute, ten minutes, an hour. the silence of the house, once your refuge, started to feel suffocatin'.
did he get tired of you? did he have an accident? or worse, did he leave you there to die in that high-security prison where nobody could save you?
"sir?" you whispered for the first time, voice so low it almost got lost.
nothin'.
tears started fallin', hot and uncontrolled. you curled up on the sofa, huggin' your knees, sobbin' so hard your whole body shook. without soldier boy, you were just that vulnerable little girl again. you cried until your face felt numb, repeatin' his name in your head, beggin' for the door to open while the clock ticked through a night that felt endless.
it was almost two in the morning when the sound of tires on gravel finally echoed. the sound of the locks clickin' open was like a gunshot. ben walked in stumblin' a bit, the shield hittin' the doorframe.
he didn't expect the lights on. and he definitely didn't expect to find you.
he stopped, seein' you curled on the sofa. you looked even smaller than usual, a pile of shivers and ragged breath.
"fuck, doll... what are you still doin' up? should be sleepin'," he grumbled, voice raspier than usual, as he dropped the shield with a thud.
he came closer and heard your sobbin', that sharp, exhausted sound. when he saw your face, eyes so swollen you could barely open 'em and tear tracks on your cheeks, his body went tense. his annoyance from being stuck at the tower vanished, replaced by mute shock.
"hey, hey... look at me," he said, kneelin' in front of the sofa. his big hands, still dirty, held your knees. "what is it? what happened? someone try to get in here?"
you couldn't answer, just sobbed harder. you leaned forward, hidin' your face in his shoulder, wettin' his uniform with tears.
ben was still for a sec. it was the first time you sought his contact so desperately. he let out a long sigh, wrappin' his arms around you and pullin' you into his lap, sittin' on the sofa with you tangled in him.
"shhh... calm down. daddy's here. i'm here, okay?" he started rubbin' your back, a rough but genuine care. "i was late, girl. those shits at the tower held me up, had to fix a mess."
he squeezed you tighter, feelin' your heat and the way you gripped his uniform with small hands, like you were scared he’d evaporate.
"did you think i was gone?" he asked, a hint of bitterness in his voice. he lifted your chin, forcin' you to look at him. "look at me. i'd never leave you alone, get it? never. you're my daughter now. my baby.”
you just nodded, sobs dyin' down as his scent wrapped around you. he spent the rest of the night there, on the sofa with you in his lap, mutterin' you were a silly girl for doubtin' him while wipin' your face with his thumb.
words still got stuck in your throat. you looked at your feet every time he entered your room. but he had a patience that seemed infinite. he’d sit on the edge of the bed and watch you with eyes that seemed to read your thoughts.
"did you eat everythin' i left, sweetheart?" he’d ask, voice low and vibratin'. you’d just nod, feelin' your cheeks warm up.
"wanna hear your voice. talk to me. was it good?"
you’d hesitate, playin' with the hem of your dress, until a whisper came out: "y—yes, sir. thank you."
slowly, one-word answers turned into conversations that lasted hours, where you told him about books or how the sun hit the window. he rarely stayed away more than two days, but every hour felt like forever. the moment the door opened, the fear of being left vanished and euphoria took over. you’d run down the hall and throw yourself against his chest.
"daddy! you're home!" you’d exclaim, buryin' your face in his neck, breathin' in his scent—it was your only oxygen.
he’d carry you to the sofa like you weighed nothin', keepin' you in his lap while he took off his coat. "miss me that much? what'd you do while i was out?" and you’d start talkin', desperate to keep his attention.
he felt a sick satisfaction knowin' you were only his. he took care of every detail: he made the food, he checked the bath temp, he scrubbed your skin gently, he combed your hair. he even knew the color of the panties you wore, fuck.
nobody in the world knew you existed. ben was obsessive; the mere thought of someone findin' that cabin and lookin' at you made his blood boil. it wasn't shame, it was property instinct. he knew the world out there was wicked, full of people who’d use your powers and destroy your sweetness. he swore he’d keep you away from those "animals." in his head, if anyone had the right to control you, mold you, or even destroy you, it was him. just him.
ben liked thinkin' you’d never see anyone but him. after he saved you from the streets, took you home, fed you—he knew he was bein' a good person. but he also knew that from the moment he locked you in that house, he’d ended your life.
when you stay with one person for a long time, when you forget everyone else and only have contact with one person, no outside world, you get attached. he knew how dependent on him you were. you lived for him, breathed for him. you were addicted to him and it was sick. when you're addicted to drugs, there's a cure. almost impossible, but with effort, you can.
but what about a soul addiction? when you’d rather die than live without the person you love, there’s no cure. it ain't easy to get attached to someone, it really ain't. but you were naive, vulnerable, and he seemed like a god who saved you.
he knew he’d taken advantage of your fragility, but felt no remorse. he loved you in an insane way, a love that’d rather see you wither in an isolated house than shine anywhere else.
at the start he was so attentive, he took care of you, had all the patience in the world. he didn't force you to talk for the first three weeks. he didn't force you to eat for the first few days. he waited for your shyness and fear to go so he could be himself, to show how bad and sick he could be.
soldier boy was an aggressive person. he was completely manipulative, aggressive, an egocentric piece of shit. he liked knowin' you were dependent, that you breathed for him. he knew it was sick, but didn't care. the idea that if he left you, you’d get sick, excited him, fuck.
he’d never leave you, of course not. but sometimes at night, when he couldn't sleep, he’d go walk in the yard, smoke weed, drink, everythin'. and then he’d always come back to your bedroom, findin' you sleepin' so calm in a monster’s bed. 'cause he was a monster.
he’d touch himself thinkin' about how you’d look if he left you, how you’d stop eatin', bathin', doin' basic needs. he thought about how your body would merge with the bed 'cause you wouldn't even have the strength to get up. he knew you’d degrade yourself if he left, anyone who knew your relationship would think the same.
he knew if he left for months and then showed up, you’d run to his arms, apologizin' for not being good enough. poor little girl. it wasn't your fault he was a sick fuck.
"why do you trust me so much? i could kill you right now," he whispered while lookin' at you sleep.
but he loved you.
he never loved anyone like he loved you. the love he felt was dirty, sick, problematic, toxic, and totally insane. but it was pure. a pure love. and you’d never know the strength of it.
he’d watch you sleep and feel an insane urge to crush you against his chest just to make sure no atom of air got between you. the glint in his eyes when he saw you totally surrendered after he’d filled you completely was borderline religious.
and you really would never know the full strength of that love. you’d never understand that, for ben, keepin' you locked in that house was the greatest act of devotion he could imagine. in his head, the world wasn't worthy of seein' you. he destroyed you every day, takin' your autonomy and identity.
he’d bury his face in your hair, smellin' the scent he chose for you, and close his eyes hard. it was a love that burned, that hurt, that accepted nothin' less than your whole soul. "my little girl... you're the only thing that's good in this hell of a world."
you’d just snuggle closer, feelin' protected, never understandin' that the same force that saved you from the alley was the force keepin' you in the dark forever. ben's love was a life sentence.
sometimes, the loneliness of that huge house and the isolation made you lose it. frustration bubbled up and you’d end up being bratty, talkin' back or refusin' the food he made with so much love. but ben wasn't the type to scream; he preferred much crueler ways to put you back in your place.
when you crossed the line, he simply gave you the silent treatment.
he’d go upstairs or leave the house without a word, lockin' all the doors and leavin' you in total vacuum. you’d cry, sob loud and bang on his bedroom door, beggin' for a look, a touch, any sign he still loved you. the despair of being ignored by your "daddy" was worse than any physical punishment. you’d kneel in the hall, askin' for forgiveness between tears, sayin' you’d be a good girl, until he finally opened the door, looked you up and down with cold contempt and said he’d only talk when you learned your place.
even with the chaotic routine among the seven, ben did the impossible to see you whenever he could. he lived under constant pressure, needin' to keep the hero facade and make sure homelander, or anyone at vought, didn't suspect his girl’s existence. every second away was a torment for his possessive mind, imaginin' if you were okay or if someone was prowlin' his territory.
when he finally escaped the cameras and meetings, he’d get home exhausted, but blood boilin' with longin'. he’d walk in, see you there, eyes still swollen from cryin' over his silence, and his anger turned into sick satisfaction. he’d pick you up, let you nestle in his chest and whisper that only he could forgive you, that only he kept you safe from that wicked world. he was your world, and he made sure you never forgot.
these moments were his favorite. after the tension of actin' like the perfect hero, ben just wanted the silence of that house and your absolute devotion. he’d settle in the worn leather chair, pullin' you to his lap like a baby, and you’d nestle there, small and submissive, suckin' his thumb by instinct for comfort while listenin' to him talk.
"those idiots at the tower don't know nothin', doll," he’d mutter, voice vibratin' in his chest. "homelander thinks he runs everythin', but he's just a brat needy for attention."
he’d run his free hand through your hair, nails light on your scalp, talkin' about things he bought for you. sometimes a new dress, a candy he saw, or some decor for your room.
"daddy, look what i saw today!" you’d interrupt, excited, grabbin' the phone he gave you.
you’d show silly cat videos or some dumb internet trend you saw during the hours of solitude. ben looked at the screen with funny contempt, mutterin' how "technology made people stupid," but he heard every word.
he trusted you with that phone. he knew your emotional dependency was so deep you’d never use it to ask for help or escape.
"what a stupid thing, baby," he’d say, laughin' low and movin' his thumb just to replace it with his lips in a kiss on your forehead. "but if you liked it, i like it too. what else did you see while daddy was out workin'?"
you’d spend hours tellin' him about movies, detailin' every scene, and he’d look at you with possessive adoration, knowin' he was the only audience you’d ever have.
sometimes when he had a bad week, he’d fuck you—it wasn't always. actually, he rarely had sex with you; he just liked havin' you submissive, obeyin' him, devoted, receivin' his affection. he liked mistreatin' you to see if you’d take it all for daddy, 'cause you were such a good girl.
he liked fuckin' you with his fingers until you came and got all needy. he delighted in how your little cunt always seemed tighter, strugglin' to fit his calloused fingers, squeezin' 'em like you were beggin' for more.
ben loved seeing you go into despair, makin' you humiliate yourself, askin' please, whimperin' and beggin' for him to ease that ache. it was so good, the feelin' of being filled by his fingers, his cock, his tongue.
sometimes, after someone annoyed him—usually homelander, that spoiled crybaby. he’d lose the little patience he had and vent on you. he didn't hit you to break you, he really thought he was bein' "gentle," but you were too sensitive. any rougher squeeze, any slap to educate you or silence your cry, already left a vivid mark on your skin.
ben was standin', broad chest heavin', every breath soundin' like a muffled growl. in his twisted head, the way he tossed you on the bed and the slaps to stop your cry were quiet acts. but he forgot you were made of porcelain and him of steel.
ben looked at you, curled on the edge of the bed, shoulders shakin' while you tried to cover the bruises bloomin' on your thighs and arms with small hands. purple marks, finger-shaped.
his silence was terrifying. he didn't apologize; ben didn't know how. instead, he just watched his own destruction with a dark gaze.
"fuck, look at you," he started, voice raspier than usual, not a drop of apology.
you shivered, sobs gettin' shorter while lookin' at him with red eyes. the fear in your look was what always brought him back, reminded him you weren't some supe, but somethin' fragile he swore to protect, even from himself.
he stepped forward and you shrank more, eyes closed waitin' for another blow. but instead, felt his weight sink the mattress. with a hand still shakin' from residual rage, he held your ankle and pulled you slow to him, ignorin' your gasp.
"look what you make me do, doll..." he whispered, calloused fingers tracin' a bruise on your leg. the touch was, this time, scary gentle. "why don't you stay quiet? why you gotta cry and make me more annoyed? i don't wanna hurt you, fuck. you know i lose my patience and you still irritate me."
he reached out and, with a force that still made you shiver, pulled you to his lap. you didn't resist; had no strength. he settled you against his broad chest, wrappin' you with the arms that just marked you.
"i’m not a bad guy, baby. you know that," he whispered, startin' to run his hand through your hair. "i didn't wanna hurt you. i never want to. but you gotta learn to stay quiet when i'm stressed. if you were a good girl and just met me with a smile, none of this would’ve happened, you brat."
he leaned and kissed the top of your head, down to your forehead. his hand went to the mark on your arm, tracin' the outline.
"daddy was just stressed. my day was hell and you ended up bein' the target 'cause you were stubborn," he continued, voice gettin' sweeter. "shhh... stop cryin'. daddy already forgave you for annoyin' me. now i'll take care of you, okay?"
he started kissin' the marks he left, somethin' he always did to clear his conscience. he squeezed you tighter, hidin' his face in your neck.
"nobody in the world loves you like i do, even when you make me lose control," he muttered.
you sniffled quiet, hidin' your face in his chest, acceptin' the care and the guilt he threw on you.
"i'm sorry, daddy..." you whispered, voice choked. "sorry for not being good to you today. i... i didn't wanna annoy you."
he lifted your chin, forcin' you to look. his gaze wasn't fury anymore, just sweet.
"i'll always forgive you, baby," he said, givin' a tender kiss on your nose before a soft kiss on your lips. "now forget it. stop shakin'. i'm gonna take care of you."
ben was fully aware of the devastatin' strength in his veins; he knew he was a human tank and you were just flesh and bone. he knew if his control failed by a millimeter, if he forgot for a sec you weren't made of metal, he’d kill you by accident.
the idea of findin' you lifeless, breakin' the neck of the only person he really loved, was the only thought that made his stomach turn. he didn't like thinkin' about it. buried it deep.
ben still remembered the first time he fucked you.
remembered how you looked tiny under him, eyes wide and flooded with tears of fear and pleasure while he claimed every inch, remembered how you cried, sobbin' loud against his chest while he pounded you so hard the bed creaked and hit the walls.
the start was a shock. you’d never been touched, and his brutality left no room for subtleties. mid-fuck, ben pulled you up, pressin' his lips to yours in an aggressive kiss while his hand closed hard around your throat. he squeezed enough for your eyes to water while you struggled for air.
he pulled back just millimeters, keepin' the pressure, watchin' your despair with a sadistic glint.
"can't breathe?" he asked, voice low, vibratin' against your face.
you shook your head frantically, hands grabbin' his wrists, tryin' to ease the grip. in response, he gave a predatory smile and delivered a thrust so deep you felt him hit the bottom of your womb.
"shhh," he growled, goin' back to fuckin' you with renewed fury. "stop the crying, fuck! i want you to understand your life depends on me now."
"ben... please... it hurts... you're hurtin' me," you screamed, voice raspy, but body reactin' with spasms of pleasure you were lovin' to feel.
"i know it hurts, baby," he said, landin' a slap that made your head turn. "this is so you never forget daddy did this. look at you... all messed up, crying, begging… my little girl."
when he saw you were losin' consciousness, body gettin' too limp and gaze fadin', he let go of your neck and slowed down. pulled you into a crushin' hug, coverin' your face with sweet, damp kisses.
"shhh, doll... calm down... daddy's here," he whispered in your ear, voice suddenly soft, wipin' tears with his lips. "look at you... takin' it all so well. i'm so proud of my girl. you're so strong for me, y'know?"
you got all giddy under those words, mind foggy. you sought his care, nestlin' in his chest, lettin' him do what he wanted.
"am i... am i your good girl, ben?" you asked, exhausted.
"yes, my baby. you're doing so well," he answered, thrustin' again, but with a slow, torturous pressure that took you to orgasm in seconds. you came hard, body shakin', and he continued, no rest, stimulatin' you till you were just a pile of shakin' flesh.
even with the pain and shock, you were in absolute surrender. ben still felt your legs wrapped tight around his waist, keepin' him there, ensurin' he didn't leave you for a second.
"that's it, that's my girl," he growled low, feelin' your cunt squeeze him with a despair that drove him crazy. "you're so tight, fuck... tailor-made for daddy. i'm gonna use you so much, leave you so full of me."
he held you against him with brute force, arms crushin' you while he finally came deep inside, feelin' you squeeze him in a last try to contain that invasion.
"that's it love... i want your little pussy dripping my cum."
after the orgasm passed, he didn't move. stayed there, heavy and hot, enjoyin' the feel of you warmin' him. he stroked your skin with that huge hand, feelin' your shivers die down, while moonlight hit the bruises he just made.
"i love you so much, baby," he murmured, kissin' your nose with a tenderness that gave chills after such violence. "nobody's ever gonna touch you like this. nobody's ever gonna get where i get. you're mine, fuck."
and as he carried you to the bath right after, washin' you with that excessive, almost manic care, he looked at the purple on your neck and thighs with sick pride.
at the end of the day, you were soldier boy's best-kept secret, marked inside and out by his absolute will. he raised you in that house, moldin' every thought and makin' you believe he was a good person, that isolation was love and that house was your only true home. to him, possessiveness, bruises, and control were just how he expressed the love he felt—a sick love, but one he swore was your only salvation.
nobody could know. none of the seven, no executives, nobody. you were the biggest secret he kept in decades. he knew the second someone found out, they’d use you to get to him.
while in those borin' meetings, sittin' at that cold table and endurin' homelander complainin' like a spoiled baby, ben's mind was miles away. didn't even hear about marketing or approval ratings; only thought of you.
imagined how you were: if you were on the sofa wearin' one of his old shirts, if you missed his heat, or if you were nappin'. the thought of you there, locked up, waitin' like a good girl, was the only thing keepin' him from blowin' everyone’s heads off. he counted minutes to get out of the spotlight and back to his girl.
he got agonized when away too long. bein' away was like havin' a limb ripped off. he hated vought, hated the halls, hated those supe idiots, hated people, but above all, hated that you were home, out of his sight.
at first, he’d find a way to escape. intimidated assistants, ignored calls and went home for a day or two just to check if you were where he left you. but the schedule got tighter, and days away piled up. for him, it was hell.
he felt a sick pleasure thinkin' you’d get sick with longin', that your body would wither like a flower without sun if he wasn't there to water you. but paranoia consumed him too. couldn't stop wonderin': were you eatin' right? or cryin' so much you forgot? were you readin' the books he bought, seein' the movies? what were you doin'? fuck, fuck, fuck.
needed to know every second. if you were on the porch, in his bed smellin' the pillow, watchin' videos, if you’d peed, felt pain, nausea. this agony led him to do what he swore he’d never do: give in to a phone.
when you showed him things, he acted like it was a useless alien artifact. grumbled, tossed it aside, said "in my time, you looked in the face or waited for the mailman." ben started considerin' maybe that shit wasn't a total waste. the idea of 24/7 contact started itchin' his mind. realized with a phone, he’d know exactly what you were doin', whenever he wanted.
he’d sit on the sofa, with those huge hands that crushed skulls, tryin' not to break the screen while you guided his fingers. you in his lap, explainin' how to open messages, send audio, use emojis. ben let out raspy laughs when you got excited 'cause he finally sent a "hi" with a heart. he faked contempt, but truth was he was fascinated by your joy in talkin' from afar.
"you're so silly, sweetheart," he’d say, squeezin' your waist while watchin' you type test messages.
now, in meetings, endurin' homelander’s ego or ashley’s plans, his phone vibrated discreetly. didn't just want to know if you were okay; wanted details. wanted to know your day, what you felt, deepest thoughts. still a bit clumsy respondin', but tried his best just to talk to you.
"baby, did you eat?" he’d ask around lunch.
"yes daddy, i ate cake."
"no, no, baby, cake ain't enough. i want you healthy. be a good girl and eat right."
"baby, won't make it back today."
"wish i was there with you."
"how i send a photo in this shit?"
"baby, want me to bring ice cream?"
"cant stop thinking about my little doll."
"let me see you."
you’d smile, feelin' the happiest person. he was really tryin'. you giggled imaginin' him with fingers crushin' the screen. he’d stay there, lookin' at the three dots of your typin' like his life depended on it. agony eased when he saw your reply, but the desire to be present, smell you, see you melt when he touches you—never vanished. the phone was just his way to ensure his best secret stayed exactly that: his, and nobody else’s.
one day, he walked in holdin' a small plastic carrier with a care that wasn't usual.
your eyes widened, speechless.
"daddy… what's that?" you whispered, approachin' slow.
he let out a heavy sigh, lookin' a bit embarrassed, which was rare. put the box on the coffee table and opened the grate.
"you complain the house is too quiet when i'm gone," he said, raspy voice, not lookin' in your eyes. "found this thing near the tower. was alone. thought... whatever. at least he’ll watch you while i'm out."
from the box came a white ball of fur, with huge curious eyes, lettin' out a tiny meow. a cat.
you looked at the kitten, then at the most dangerous man in the world, standin' there with arms crossed and an expression of "don't make a big deal of it."
"you brought... a cat?" you felt tears. "soldier boy brought a kitten home?"
"don't start," he grumbled, but you saw the corner of his mouth twitch almost into a smile. "if he scratches the sofa, he's gone. and if he jumps on the bed while i'm fucki'— hm, it's yours. so you don't feel so alone when i ain't here."
you threw yourself in his arms, a happy scream, and he held you firm, hidin' his face in your neck. fuck, he was a monster to the world, a sick piece of shit, but there, seein' you melt over a little animal he rescued, he felt that was the closest he got to bein' a good person.
in the end, his sick love was what kept you alive, and your dependency was what fed his obsession, keepin' your house as a universe where only two survivors existed. fuck, and he’d never let that change.
a/n: this is only my 3rd fic and i’m still getting used to everything, so please forgive any mistakes! i also wanted to say a huge thank you to everyone who’s been liking my other stories. it really means a lot to me, u have no idea. feedbacks and ideas are always welcome too! thanksssss for reading!!! 💟💟💟
cw: explicit, creampie, fucking your boyfriend’s best friend.
You’re straddling Sukuna on his oversized couch, riding his thick cock balls-deep inside you as you ride him. His large hands grip your ass, guiding you up and down his massive length while your tits bounce with every roll of your hips. Sukuna’s tattoos flex as he leans back, crimson eyes locked on your bouncing tits and the fucked out look on you.
“Shit—you’re tight as hell,” he growls, thrusting up to meet you. You were both definitely burning in hell for this because…
your phone suddenly vibrates on the cushion beside you. The screen flashes Toji<3. Your boyfriend. And the cock you were currently fucking youself on? Your boyfriend's best friends’.
Stupid ass reflex takes over as you snatch it up and answer before you realize what you’ve done. “H-hey,” you say, voice shaky and far too breathy.
Sukuna’s eyes snap wide open as his hands freeze on your hips, cock twitching violently inside you. A rare flush creeps up his neck and cheeks as he stares at you in pure disbelief. He mouths “Are you fucking stupid?” but his hips give a small, involuntary buck upward, pushing his cock deeper.
Toji’s deep, gruff voice comes through the line. “Hey, baby. You still over at Kuna’s? How’s it goin’?”
Sukuna looks genuinely flustered for once and tries to stay still, but his cock is throbbing so hard inside your soaked pussy that he can’t help but give another slow thrust. You bite your lip hard. “Y-yeah… we’re just hanging out. I—ah—miss you.”
“Good. Put that bastard on the phone for a sec. Wanna ask him somethin’.”
Your stomach drops as Ryomen looks so regretful he didn’t grab your phone before you did and above it all, he doesn’t pull out. Instead, he sits up slightly, wrapping one arm around your waist to hold you flush against him as he takes the phone. His cock stays buried deep inside your sopping pussy. Sukuna clears his throat, his voice strained, “What do you want, Fushiguro?”
Toji sounds casual as ever. “Just checkin’ in. You takin’ care of my girl? She eat yet? She gets hangry if you don’t feed her.” Sukuna’s grip on your ass tightens almost painfully as he starts fucking you again harder. You bury your face in his shoulder to muffle your whimper, pussy clenching hard around him.
“Yeah… she’s being well taken care of,” Sukuna says as he punctuates the words with a sharper thrust, making your breath hitch. “Real full right now.” He continues as he starts bouncing you on his cock with more force.
Toji laughs. “Good. Don’t let her walk all over you. She can be a handful. You two watching the fight highlights I told you about?” Sukuna’s breathing is getting ragged. He fucks you harder, one hand sliding up to pinch your nipple while he holds the phone with the other. “Mmm… yeah. Intense shit,” he grunts, the last word rough as your walls flutter around his thick cock. “She’s really into it.”
You’re shaking, biting down on his shoulder to stay quiet, “Alright, I’ll leave you two to it,” Toji says eventually. “Tell her I’ll pick her up later. Thanks for keepin’ her company, man.”
“No problem,” Sukuna replies, teeth clenched as he slams you down onto his cock particularly hard. “Anytime.” The second you hang up, Sukuna tosses the phone aside and flips you onto your back in one rough motion. He looms over you, flushed and visibly pissed off at how turned on he is.
“You fucking idiot,” he snarls, sliding his cock through your wet slicked pussy from clit to teasing you with the tip. “Answering the damn phone while my cock’s inside you—”
You moan loud now that you can, nails raking down his back. “Couldn’t help it—fuck, Kuna—c’mon put it inside—”
His tattoos ripple across his chest and shoulders with every heavy breath, “You couldn’t help it?” he repeats, “Reflex, huh? Stupid fuckin’ reflex got my best friend’s voice in my ear while your pussy was creaming all over my cock.”
He slaps your pussy once with his cock before pushing in slow making you feel every thick girthy part of him. He pins your wrists above your head with one massive hand, leaning down so his mouth brushes your ear. “You almost got us caught, you really want that? Think Toji wants a video? Should we send him one, hm?”
He releases your wrists so he can grab your thighs, folding you nearly in half as he drives into you harder. You try to keep a straight voice but end up moaning your answer. “Oh don’t act so holier than thou, you—hnngh—manwhore. Fucking y-your best friends girlfriend? Best friend award of the century goes to—s-shit, right there, Ryo.”
He laughs as he folds you deeper, your knees nearly touching your shoulders. His massive body pins you down, cock spearing into you. “Manwhore?” He repeats mockingly, “Yeah? Says the slut who answered her boyfriend’s call with my dick stuffed inside her. Could’ve hung up. Could’ve ignored it. But no—you picked up like a good little girlfriend while your pussy was dripping down my balls.”
You cry out, “F-fuck—Ryo—!”, your small hands grabbing onto his muscles flexing as he uses you. He leans down, biting your neck hard enough to leave a mark before licking over it. “Toji’s gonna pick you up soon… and you’re gonna be limping, cunt swollen and full of my cum. Think he’ll notice?”
The dirty thought makes you clench violently around him. Sukuna groans, eyes rolling back for a second before he doubles down, pounding you hard. Sweat beads on his skin, his normally composed face twisted with pleasure. You nearly scream, pussy gushing around his thrusting cock as your whole body spasms while you cum. Sukuna doesn’t slow down, fucking you straight through it with wet thrusts until your eyes are watering. “Shit—yeah, you like that idea, don’t you?”
You try to look away from him, turning your head but he grips your chin forcing you to. “Oh-h, shut up, Ryo. Just-t fuck me harder,” you whimper, tears of overwhelming pleasure slipping from the corners of your eyes.
He slams into you harder, faster, as your juices coat his shaft and drip down to his balls. Thick, hot spurts flood deep inside you, pulse after pulse until it’s leaking out around his cock.
He grinds deep through it, making sure every drop stays plugged inside you. He stays buried deep as you both pant, “Answering the phone with my dick balls-deep in you like it’s nothing. Reflex my ass. You wanted him to hear how well I’m taking care of this pussy.”
He finally pulls out with a wet sound before slapping your ass, “Now go clean up before your boyfriend shows up and I have to pretend I didn’t just rail his girl again.”
a/n: I NEED KUNAAAAA also I would so do this to get back at toji for doin something shitty hehe
Pairing: StalkerPlug!Choso x Reader
cw: fem!reader, Choso is kinda creepy and awkward, shy, mentions of drugs and alc, frat party, stalker vibes from Choso, Obessed with reader, SMUT, sucking his d, masturbation
for my sweet: @magnol1aaa3 I HOPE U LIKKEE
Your plug, just some alternative looking guy you bought your fix from.
The price for his baggies was suspiciously cheap, but hey, a girl can't complain.
You knew his name and what days were best to meet up with him at the park near your dorm. That's about it. He was kinda cute.
He knew much more.
Much so much muuuch more about you.
Choso Kamo was a bit of a freak- an obsessed, utterly smitten freak.
When he saw you in real life, he was unable to speak, just mumbling a thanks or a hum after getting cash from you, fidgeting with the sleeves of his shirts or gnawing on his lip piercings, eyes unable to look at yours- your presence making him shy.
He kept the bills you gave him in his pillowcase.
Never giving them out to anyone, he needed to have some part of you near. Something you had touched.
You never saw him around the campus, but he saw you.
How you walked with friends between lectures, where you went for lunch and how you always booked the corner study spot in the library.
God you looked so pretty.
He liked the days where you didn't have any makeup on, eye bags and all. You just… just were so perfect.
It didn't help that he was a avid weed smoker, every time that he got high, all he could think about was you.
Crying and sniffling while fisting his obscenely large cock to the image of your face, your legs in those skirts you sometimes wore. He had a painfully vivid imagination.
If he got lucky, you'd go out in a tank top. And he could picture the exact spot where your areolas or nipples were.
He wanted you so bad, it made him sob.
Your social media wasn't safe at all.
You had your usual profile, public to family and surface level friends.
But you also had a private one.
A spam account of sorts- and he somehow got in, he kept track of every new post, every new story or what you reposted or liked. He especially liked the thirst traps you'd post there, the videos of you lip syncing or silly clips of you playing a game or with friends.
It felt like he was apart of everything.
He saw it all.
He knew you so well, knew your habits, your schedule.
It was honestly creepy. But he couldn't help himself.
He knew you were single, but if some other guy came up to you or got too friendly… he took note.
And if that sad bastard came to Choso to get some of his supply- he marked it higher than necessary.
Thoughts of lacing their shit crossed his mind… but he wasn't trying to go to jail. Who would get to stalk you daily then?
A party.
A frat party down in one of the houses, hosted by Gojo and his buddy Sukuna.
You were going.
Choso knew.
So he went too.
You had just arrived, in some shorts that hugged your thighs in a delicious way and a top that made your tits look heavenly- Choso was standing in a corner by the kitchen, but he saw you come in.
You split with your friends, starting to walk to the drink and food table. Heading right in his direction.
Choso, the poor guy started to panic, fingers awkwardly fixing the oversized t shirt he wore, rings hitting one another on his stacked fingers, his hair done up in those cute messy buns- he tried to fluff before you got close enough to notice him fumbling around.
"Oh, hey Choso!" You called over the music, giving him a small smile before picking up a fresh cup from the side and filling it up with some mystery jungle juice.
Choso wanted to say hi, but his pale complexion had started to turn pink, nodding his head as a greeting.
What a loser. A really attractive one.
I mean.. he was the most decent one out of anyone you saw right now, so why not chat with him for now.
You found yourself leaning against the wall beside him, sipping on the drink while you tried to form some sort of conversation.
"So how's business, Chos?"
The nickname made him swallow, dark eyes unable to focus on one spot while talking with you.
"Good…i guess.."
"You have any on you?"
"A bit…"
"Do you have a girlfriend?"
Now he made eye contact, looking surprised by the question. In his thoughts, you were his wife already but he can't say that, now can he.
"No…"
"I'm single too." You took a drink, looking over to someone screaming about Toji taking his shirt off.
"I know." Choso blurted out, getting jealous that you were trying to peek at the commotion and away from him, not thinking about what his tongue spoke.
You turned your head sideways back to him and laughed, taking it lightheartedly.
"Yeah, it's obvious, right?"
You got a few more drinks in you, even making the quiet guy take some shots to get as tipsy as you.
Choso gained the courage and asked if you wanted to go share what he had on him outside.
Sitting on the steps on the porch, you leaned your shoulder against his, taking a deep inhale and filling your lungs, turning to blow some in his face with a laugh before passing the joint to his trembling fingers.
This was like a dream to him.
You looked so cute… and his mind was so warm and fuzzy.
An awkward smile was on his pierced lips, feeling happy.
You liked this Kamo.
You liked him enough to suggest you dip from the party and just go to his place instead after finishing the smoke sesh.
You held his hand the whole way.
You were too giddy to notice how clammy it was, or how nervous Choso was this whole time, looking like some flustered teenage boy talking to a girl for the first time.
His apartment was clean and well organised, he was tidy like that.
In a lovely high you craved to suck on something.
So you got Choso on his own bed- hungrily pulling his baggy jeans down and getting to work.
You didn't question how he was was painfully hard already… not like hes had a stiffy since the party.
You kissed down the welcoming happy trail.
Poor guy's hands didn't know where to hold on to.
One almost ripping at the bedsheets and the other gently cupping the side of your face, watching as your glossy lips kissed at his pinkish tip.
How they wrapped around his fat base- how the drool bubbled and dribbled down to his trimmed hair and slid down his tightening balls.
He got to cum down your throat, and he swore god was real because no way was this happening.
You stayed the night, haphazardly taking your clothes off and cuddling up to his side. Choso's arms were warm around you, as if he was cradling something more valuable than diamonds. (He was)
He had never fallen asleep so satiated in his life. All of his fantasies of having you all to himself slowly becoming true.
An alarm blaring woke you up, groaning while flopping your arm across the bed to find the annoying sound.
It was Choso's phone.
You hit the stop alarm button and yawned.
The sweet boy was hugging your middle, face buried in the side of your neck- looking like a sleeping baby. How peaceful.
You had a slight headache, but you didn't feel like regret and misery after last night. So that was good.
While Choso babbled about some sort of dream he was having against your skin… you took the sneaky opportunity to look trough his phone.
Cmon, you would too.
The face ID worked on half of his sleepy face.
You opened the home screen…. and there was a picture of you.
Something you never had posted, and for sure you hadn't taken.
The image was cute, don't get me wrong, it got your good side.
But why the hell was it on his phone.
You glanced to the notifications bar.
The alarm you turned off had been called "check @yneedprivacy".
That was your private account.
You slowly scrolled trough his apps and opened the social media… lo and behold he saw all of your content. You don't remember him requesting to follow you.
Before you could get to anything else, Choso stirred around and started to open his eyes.
The hell do you do now?
Demand answers and humiliate him
Act as if you hadn't discoverer something creepy as fuck
i'm absolutely obsessed with ur barty fic please write more when u can i'll give u my soullll 🙈🙏
He eats it before AND after btw
Pulling away from your achy cunt, Barty kisses his way up your body before finally capturing your lips, letting you taste yourself.
His calloused hands roam your thighs urgently, pushing them apart to make space for himself between your legs.
“You good for another?”
“Mhm,” you nod. “I think.”
He clicks his tongue. “Not good enough for me. Yes or no?” He brushes some hair our of your face.
“Yes.”
“That’s what I like to hear.”
You smile softly, still coming down from your high when Barty buries himself to the hilt inside you in one slow, careful thrust. He sets a quick pace from the beginning, panting into your neck each time his tip grazed your cervix.
You moan, wrapping your arms tigher around him as your whole body moved with the force of his thrusts. Your nails scratched at his skin, gripped at his hair---anything to relieve the pressure already building in your lower belly.
"Already?" He teased once your cunt started clenching around him repeatedly.
"Fuck off," you whimpered.
Barty's own orgasm followed quickly after yours. You sighed as his warm release filled you up, arching into him. He pulled off of you after a few more shallow thrusts he used to ride out his high.
Just as you were about to turn over and head for the bathroom, a firm hand on your hip stopped you. "What?" You looked at him.
"I'm a gentleman," Barty said, mock offended expression plastered on his face.
"Huh---" Before you have much time to protest, he's lowering his face back to your pussy and laching his mouth to your overstimulated clit.
His name rips from your mouth with a loud moan, one that forces you to clap a hand over your mouth at the volume.
Barty doesn't seem to mind, humming against you as his hands grind your hips into his face eagerly.
Your desperate sounds fill the room in no time. You're writhing and arching into him, holding him close despite the overwhelming sensations.
Barty laps at your clit happily, moaning against your flesh in satsifacion. His hands keep you as still as possible, squeezing any skin he can reach.
You finish embarassingly fast, grinding down on his face with desperate whines of his name.
ben smokes a blunt next to you, and you want to try ;)
warnings?: kissing, he smokes into your mouth, p in v, soldier boy being hot and calling you doll.
it was normal for ben to light up blunts around you, especially when winding down after a fuckass day.
very recently did he start lighting one up after the two of you were done going at it like bunnies. what can you say. he had an insatiable need and you didn’t have it in you to say no to the soldier boy.
ben laid next to you on his back, his chest rising up and down. a thin layer of sweat all over his upper body. you could see the faint scratches of your nails around his shoulders and chest. even slightly exhausted his hair looked perfect, he looked perfect. your sexy, strong, high stamina older boyfriend.
the blunt burned low between his fingers, the tip glowing a dull orange. he dragged from it like it was second nature, slow and steady.
when he exhaled, it came out thick and unbothered, curling through the air, the earthy scent filled your nostrils whether you wanted it to or not.
he didn’t even look at it. just flicked ash off the end and took another drag, heavy lidded.
you knew in that moment ben wasn’t there, not in the moment with you. you slowly grabbed his bicep.
“can i have a try?” you asked nicely, sweetly. just how he liked you. innocent but a explosive dynamite when it amused him.
he glanced at you, the faint swirls of smoke diffusing around him, you felt like you were in a dream.
he lifted the corners of his mouth in a faint smile, he weighed in his mind whether he was okay with it or not.
“anything for my doll” he softly said.
estatic, you sat up in bed. pouncing closer to him. he let out a deep chuckle.
“nuh uh” he warned peering down at you. your duvet slipping down your chest, revealing your perky tits to him. he could see the slight bruises bloom on your supple skin. ‘beautiful’ he thought.
you furrowed your eyebrows looking at him, he took a deep drag of the blunt, his green eyes in the moment so deep and hazy. he pinched your chin with his thimb and finger, pulling you closer.
your hands fell onto his chest and lifted one leg over him from under the blanket.
ben brought his lips closer to yours, you felt his lips graze over yours. every part of you shuddered at the feeling and you let your mouth open slightly letting out a sigh of relief and want.
he took the chance to blow the smoke into your mouth, you felt the warmth of his mouth overtake your mouth. your eyes shut inhaling the smoke.
“jesus” he whispered looking at your expression, you wanted more and he could tell.
ben gladly repeated the action till you got overwhelmed with ben’s lips touching yours so often.
suddenly ben had you on your back as his tongue licked into your mouth.
you moaned at the feeling of the wetness.
he let the blunt fall on the side table as he pressed himself onto you. his lips showed no mercy as he made out with you. your hands came to tug at his hair as his hands gripped at your back.
you felt his heavy dick rest over your stomach. you let out a soft cry against his lips in need. “please, again ben please” you cried so softly. he drove you mad.
ben was too good, he knew just what you needed while equally satisfying himself. “relax, i got you” he mumbled, as he sat between your legs and spread your legs.
he kissed down your neck and collarbone in wet kisses leaving you a glistening mess.
he inserted himself in you, the burning stretch left you mouth opened but no noise coming out, ben chuckled but quickly shut up when you clenched around him.
he let his head fall back “so tight” he whispered.
ben picked up the pace, thrusting into you. he hit the spot every fucking time.
you arched your back letting out strings of moans.
you felt him everywhere as his head came to fall on your chest.
he had you right at the edge, but wouldn’t let you go just like that. he flipped you over to straddle him.
he rested his head against the headboard as you bounced on top of him. he leaned over grabbing another blunt and lighting it.
your eyes were shut, your head pulled back and mouth a-gap. you rode him like your life depended on it, it did.
ben suddenly grabbed you by your neck, you gasped. he blew smoke into your mouth as you groaned.
you came all around him, you felt yourself loosen up seeing white everywhere.
ben supported you as you fell onto him still letting out light mewls.
“thats my girl” he whispered into your ear.
indifferent to your life altering orgasm, he continued dragging his blunt as you dazed off into slumber.
the last thing you felt was his hand as it caressed your back and down your ass.
im sorry if this is inaccurate and short, learning every day!!!
| Synopsis: In which husband!hiromi eats you out like the master munch that he is.
| CW: 18+ smut/mdni !! Porn no plot, oral sex (f!recieving), reader is easily overstimulated and he exploits tf out of that, Higiruma is the softest dom on the planet, gentle sex, that man is pussydrunk as phuuckkk.
Your nights with your needy lawyer of a husband, Hiromi Higuruma, usually went with you being sprawled across the mattress of the king size bed that the two of you owned, legs spread wide with the man feasting at the delectable meal in between your supple thighs like the world would come to an end tomorrow.
It was difficult to describe what he was actually doing in detail, but Hiromi clearly knew his shit, and it had you melting into the sheets, hands gripping his already messy hair.
He had come home tired and hungry, not for food, so it was understandable that he wasn’t the neatest looking at the moment.
“Mmmhh- Hiro, baby…” your soft whimpers reverberated through the bedroom, where all the magic happened, hips nudging further into his face, his large nose bumping against your clit deliciously.
And despite his gentle demeanor in the manner of how he executed his ministrations, it still felt like he was devouring you, tongue lapping at your sopping folds with reverence and need, fingers leaving crescent-marks on your outer thighs, needy groans flowing from his mouth in muffled vibrations that had you arching underneath him.
He dabbled in between gently flicking at your puffy nub of sensitive nerve endings with a quick, yet precise pace, delivering devastatingly slow, long licks against your slit and curling his tongue into your pleading hole, your juices running down his chin during the process of it all.
You didn’t think he raised his head once, not to breathe, not to speak, anything. It was as if he had found his safe haven and he never wnanted to leave, wouldn’t dare to think of trading it for anything else. He was perfectly content with his face in your wet pussy.
“Perfect… most perfect pussy on the planet. So tasty, darling…” he babbled incoherently against your cunt, sighing deeply as if he was the one on the recieving end of the torturously phenomenal stimulation.
I believe the term is pussydrunk?
And when he softly sucked at your swollen, throbbing clit, it was perhaps your tipping point. The orgasm crashed into you like an avalanche, and you came hard with a call of his name, fingers tugging on his thick strands as your thighs shook around his head, moaning uncontrollably—hips squrming around and back arching almost uncomfortably.
“Fuckfuckfuckfuck- m'cumming!”
You panted softly afterwards, slowly beginning to come down from your euphoric high, and pulled Hiromi into your chest when he crawled back up, though not before leaving one more kiss to your his pussy.
“I needed that,” you whisper gently, nails scratching at his scalp absentmindedly.
“Glad to be of service, darling.”
God, you loved that man. And he loved you.
But he may have loved that sweet, sweet pussy of yours just a liiiiittle bit more.
—
A/N: just a little Higuruma drabble for my lovelies. Hope you enjoyed! <3
| CW: 18+ smut, MDNI. Heianera!sukuna, oral (m&f recieving), dom!sukuna, sub!reader, implied corruption kink, power play (I think?), face riding, 69 position, implied overstimulation of reader, degradation/degrading language, Sukuna is a foul-mouthed piece of shit, but lowkey articulate with it. This is proofread ish because I’m doing this at one am. So don’t sue me if typos are to ensue.
Sukuna definitely made the right choice selecting you for his Kōkyū rear palace after one of his raids of the rival clans. You were young, fragile, naturally submissive, easy to break.
It was scary, at first. Getting separated from your friends, your family. Hell, Sukuna was scary. As fuck. But getting used to him wasn’t as difficult as you thought it would be, because you, kind of, y'know…had to adapt quickly.
Why?
Well, because after you arrived at the palace, Sukuna, being the stubborn, demanding man he was, simply refused to request any other concubine.
He wanted fresh meat, and every night, too, apparently.
The other women looked at you with pitying gazes and unspoken sympathy every time a servant would walk into their living area, her voice quiet, because Sukuna must’ve been so rough with you, poor thing.
He was a four armed, two cocked, stomach mouthed monster, after all.
“Miss, master Sukuna has requested you again,” the words were almost routine at this point, so much so, that your preparations for the night had already been concluded.
But those pitying looks were ones of misjudgment, because in no world would your sleepless nights with Sukuna be a negative experience for you. It was your most awaited part of your every day life. It made your body shiver with excitement and your clit wet with impatience and need.
So, off you went to the emperor’s quarters.
Sukuna’s quarters are a spacious, traditional chamber with tatami floors, dark wooden beams, and sliding shōji doors, though everything feels aged and subtly corrupted. The room is mostly empty, except for the demanding presence of the man himself, with a raised, silk-draped platform serving as both throne and resting place. Dim candlelight and drifting incense fill the space with heavy shadows and a suffocating atmosphere. Weapons, faint carvings, and unsettling shrine-like details hint at quiet violence and fear-driven reverence.
“You called for me, my lord?” Your voice was laced with the carefulness of a woman who clearly knew her place, your presence small.
The appearance of his smirk was immediate, and his four eyes roved over your body with shamelesy unbridled, lustful excitement.
“Indeed I have,” Sukuna’s voice was a velvety purr, and he took his time spreading his meaty thighs wider on the bed he had been relaxing on before your entrance.
“Come here, woman. Come serve your emperor,” his orders were clear, and under no circumstances would anyone with half a brain dare to disobey him.
With purposefully unhurried steps, you approached the edge of the bed, lowering yourself to your knees, all whilst maintaining eye contact, trying to ignore the way his voice made your thighs rub subconsciously against one another, the hormonal part of you waking up, as if it knew what was coming.
Kissing the hand that cupped grabbed your cheek, your eyelashes fluttered against his knuckles, seemingly lost in his touch.
“None of that. You think I’m here to have you waste my time, you insolent brat? Get to work,” he barked an order, and so you do as he says.
And somehow, in between all of the moments of you having your mouth stuffed full of his deliciously aching cock, hitting every nook and cranny of your throat with the muscles spasming and tears running down your face, you and Lord Sukuna end up in his bed, and trust me when I say it wasn’t pretty.
The pink muscle of your tongue manipulated the mushroomy tip of his throbbing cock, both hands expertly stimulating the lenght and head of the monstrously large members while Sukuna had you spread across his face, tongue having delved deep into the crevices of your messy pussy, slobbering all over your labia, clit, hole, you name it.
The two of you were loud, almost obnoxiously so. Whether it was Sukuna’s barely-controlled grunts and groans, or your high-pitched, utterly needy whines as he ate you out like you were the best sticky toffee pudding on the fucking planet.
Hell, if anyone were to ask him, he’d say you tasted even better.
“Hhh- oh my God, Sukuna! Yes, yes-!” You cried out after your mouth popped off his dick for a split second, lungs desprate for oxygen.
He merely grunted in response, clearly preoccupied with your absolute ocean of a cunt.
And, honestly? Someone needed to give you credit, because functioning and giving head, while getting head was pretty fucking difficult, okay? Cut a bitch some slack.
But, alas, none of that happened.
Instead, your head was roughly shoved right back down on Sukuna’s cock by one of Sukuna’s four arms, holding your head down in a filthy deepthroat, letting you gag around his ridiculous girth, saliva dripping down your mouth to your chin, tears prickling in your eyes.
All the while his tongue flicked at your puffy folds, sliding in between them to exploit that sensitive little nub of yours, gripping your ass cheeks roughly to keep you glued to his face, he himself unable to breathe while making sure you were completely unmoving, despite all of your uncontrollable writhing and squirming around.
He was practically a miracle worker.
You were sure you’d cum like this in no time, but you knew you must work him up to his climax, first.
So you doubled down with your efforts and rocked your hips against his face with all your might, clit bumping against his nose, allowing the most perfect sensations to come through, while hollowing your cheeks around his cock, wanting to make sure he absolutely heard your muffled whines and struggled gags.
God, the way that curve of his hit the back of your throat should’ve been illegal.
You soon felt your orgasm approaching, hitting you like wave of overstimulation, cunt lubricating itself all over again, despite it never even drying up in the first place.
“I can feel my slut’s about to come f'me. So fucking greedy, I should just tie you up and leave you like this,” he growled as he pulled you off of his face in an attempt to utilize his voice, the sound primal and laced with unadultrated, all-consuming lust.
A sudden dollop of spit landed roughly on the glistening outer flesh of your pussy, making you jolt in pleasure.
“M'gonna-“ you tried to warn him, to ask for permission, you really did, but you had always lacked the self control to possess the art of edging, so your orgasm wasn’t help back by anybody and sprung free the second the pleassure got too much.
Your body twitched and shivered, an almost inhumane hybrid of a moan, a groan and a squeal errupting from your lungs, diaphragm spasming, as well as your thighs, and your poor, poor pussy.
But did the procedure of Sukuna’s otherworldly blowjob come to a halt after you reached your peak? No, absolutely not.
Your head continued to bob up and down on his aching member, stimulating the other one, equally as large and frustrated as his twin cock, with your skilled hands, to guarantee a fresh load of pearly-white nut from him.
And oh, he came, alright.
With an animalistic groan, a slight arch of his back and a satisfied smack to your ass, his hot seed squirted up into your mouth, painting the inside white.
The semen itself was quite warm and salty, and you enjoyed making a show of swallowing it all, showing off your clean tongue as a display of pride right afterwards, y’know, when you did get maneuvered off of his lap and curled up to him.
“Alright, woman. I know you swallowed it, I expect you to,” he lightly smacked your cheek, equivalent to a soft pat according to Sukuna’s standards. That man was strong.
You giggled, fully fucked and blissed out, eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks when your eyes closed shut. No verbal response came from you, your vocal chords giving out on you and leaving a nasty rasp in its place.
But nobody, and I mean absolutely nobody could tell Sukuna’s stubborn little brat that it wasn’t worth if, every single motherfucking time.
Life really is great when you’re the Emperor’s favorite.
—
A/N: So so sorry for completely dragging the process of this out. I’ve just been completely demotivated and trying to focus on my studies because exam season is soon and your girlie is stressed thee fuck out. Love you and ty for your patience. Happy reading!
