You lie on the bed, limbs heavy and trembling, body still twitching with the aftershocks of four brutal orgasms. Your skin is slick with sweat, chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven pants. Thick rivulets of Gris and Enjin’s mixed cum leak slowly from your puffy, abused cunt, sliding warm and sticky down the crease of your ass and soaking into the ruined sheets beneath you.
Enjin leans casually on one hand on the bed to your right, yellow eyes dark with amusement as he watches you float in that hazy, cock-drunk space. Gris sits to your left, arms crossed over his broad chest, blond mullet slightly messy from earlier exertion, watching you with that steady, unreadable calm that always makes your stomach flip even when your brain is melted.
Enjin’s question still hangs in the thick, sex-scented air like smoke.
“So trouble, what’ll it be? You ready to take on Bro?”
The words slog through the syrupy fog in your brain. Your eyes roll back down from behind your skull, lashes fluttering, until they land on Bro standing at the foot of the bed.
His massive cock stands flushed and angry, thick veins pulsing visibly along the heavy length. The fat head leaks steadily, a shiny bead of pre-cum rolling down the underside as the whole thing twitches with barely-contained need. It looks like it could explode any second — huge, intimidating, far bigger than anything that has any right to fit inside you.
A stupid, cock-drunk smile spreads slow and lazy across your swollen lips. Your brain still floats somewhere behind your skull, but the moment your hazy eyes land on Bro’s thick, leaking cock, you feel a fresh throb of pure greed pulse between your legs.
You want to move. You really do. You want to crawl across the bed on shaky hands and knees, tongue already out, ready to worship that horse-sized cock the way it deserves. You want to nuzzle it, kiss it, slobber all over every fat inch until Bro is the one trembling.
But your body has other plans.
The second you try to push yourself up, your arms turn to jelly and give out completely. You collapse back onto the mattress with a soft, frustrated huff, hair fanning out across the pillow like a messy halo. Your thighs twitch uselessly, still trying to spread even though they feel like they weigh a hundred pounds each. The movement makes more cum leak out of you, warm and obscene, but you can’t even find the strength to be embarrassed.
You huff again, annoyed at your own ruined limbs, and tilt your head on the pillow to look up at him.
Bro stands there, chest heaving, warm brown eyes dark with barely-leashed hunger. He waits — patient as always — but you can see the way his massive frame vibrates with the effort of holding still.
With shaky arms you reach for him anyway, fingers flexing in the air like a needy little plea, making a cutesy grabbing motion. Your thighs tremble as you force them wider, knees falling open even though the movement makes your overworked cunt clench and leak another slow trickle of Gris and Enjin’s cum down your ass.
Your head sinks deeper into the pillow, voice coming out hoarse, sweet, and completely gone.
“Come breed me, papi~”
Enjin’s eyebrow shoots up. “Papi?”
He glances sideways at Gris, who looks just as thrown. Both blonds turn their heads toward Bro at the same time, clearly waiting to see how the massive man will react to the sudden pet name.
Bro stands frozen for half a second, bottom lip caught viciously between his teeth as he stares down at you. His warm brown eyes drag over your wrecked body — flushed skin, puffy folds — until they lock onto your dripping cunt, a thick ribbon of the other's mixed cum spills slowly from you.
Something in him snaps.
The bed lets out a tortured, violent groan as Bro practically launches himself onto the mattress. The wooden legs scream under his enormous weight, the entire frame shaking like it might splinter apart any second.
He frantically kicks at his pants, pushing them the rest of the way down his thick thighs with nothing but his feet, too impatient to use his hands. The fabric drags awkwardly over his calves only to catch hard at his sneakers. His trousers bunch up and tangle uselessly around his ankles, trapped there by the thick soles and laces, but Bro doesn’t even pause.
He is on you in an instant anyway.
His mouth crashes down against yours with a low, starving growl that vibrates straight through your ribs, tongue shoving deep past your lips to lick hot and greedy into your mouth like he’s been dying for the taste of you for years.
He’s so fucking big—broad as a house, with thick thighs that bracket your hips while he’s braced on his hands and knees like some desperate, rutting beast. The sheer size difference makes you feel like a doll beneath him, fragile and swallowed whole by the cage of his arms and the heavy shadow of his torso.
One huge hand grips your hip hard enough to bruise, fingers digging into the soft flesh while the fat, leaking head of his cock ruts frantically against your slick, cum-filled entrance. The blunt tip slides messily through the creamy mix of Gris and Enjin’s loads still oozing out of you, smearing it everywhere as he tries to notch himself inside hands-free, too far gone to even think about guiding it properly.
He whines—actually whines—into your mouth, a broken, needy sound that doesn’t belong to the gentle giant who called you cariño just moments before with that soft, rumbly voice.
You pull away from Bro’s lips with a shaky, wet gasp, chest heaving as you glance down between your trembling bodies. His massive cock slides desperately through your soaked folds, the veined shaft parting your puffy lips obscenely with every desperate roll of his hips. The swollen head keeps bumping heavily against your swollen clit again and again, smearing slick and cum everywhere.
“Papi… Papi it’s so big…” you babble stupidly, voice high and completely cock-melted, nails clawing into the thick meat of his shoulders. “Too big… gonna break Bunny… Please papi please— break me, split your dumb little bunny open, ruin my stupid pussy!”
Bro lets out a deep, guttural groan that rumbles straight through his chest and into yours, warm brown eyes glazing over with barely-leashed hunger. Without a second of hesitation he crashes his mouth back down onto yours in a ravenous kiss, shoving his thick tongue deep between your lips and fucking it into your mouth like he’s already claiming every inch of you.
From the edge of the bed, Enjin lets out a low, filthy chuckle, yellow eyes gleaming with that signature shit-eating grin as he watches you fall apart. “Goddamn, trouble,” he drawls, voice rough and amused, dimples carving deep. “Listen to you—already brain-melted and begging like a proper little cock-drunk whore.”
Yet the words barely register in your ears.
Bro’s tongue devours every moan that tries to escape you, thick and insistent as it pushes deep into your throat like he’s fucking your mouth with the same relentless hunger he’s grinding between your legs. His cock drags slow and heavy over your swollen clit again and again, the leaking head catching and rubbing right against that aching bundle of nerves.
Your eyes roll back hard, lashes fluttering, vision blurring into white-hot sparks. You’re reduced to nothing but instinct—suckling greedily around the invading muscle that fills your mouth, lips stretched wide, throat working around him in wet, desperate little swallows. Every filthy glide of his cock over your clit rips another broken sound from you that he immediately drinks down, tongue stroking deeper, claiming the very moans he’s forcing out of you.
His heavy length keeps slipping and dragging through your soaked folds, gliding frustratingly through the mess of slick and cum leaking from your puffy cunt, missing your hole every single time no matter how desperately he angles his hips. Growling low against your tongue, he yanks his knees closer to your sides, caging you even tighter, his body trembling with the effort of holding back just enough to line up.
He pulls his hips back once more—and this time the blunt, leaking head finally catches right at your entrance.
With one lewd, brutal thrust, Bro sinks all the way in.
You squeal into his mouth as he bottoms out in a single savage stroke, the sheer girth of him splitting you open so wide and deep that the intensity punches another orgasm straight through your exhausted body. Your legs shoot straight out, toes curling hard, back arching clean off the bed until only your ass and the crown of your head touch the sheets.
Your walls clamp down violently around the impossible stretch of him, fluttering and spasming like they’re trying to milk every inch even while your vision whites out at the edges. Your arms wrap tightly around his thick neck, clinging desperately to those broad shoulders while your head tips back, a silent, open-mouthed cry frozen on your face as pleasure rips through you like lightning.
Bro doesn’t fare any better.
The second your tight little cunt swallows him whole—every last throbbing inch buried to the hilt inside your cum-slick heat—his brain completely short-circuits. A guttural groan tears from deep in his chest, raw and animal, as your fluttering walls grip and ripple around him like you were made to keep him locked inside forever.
The gentle giant who had been so careful and reverent earlier is gone. Completely gone. All that’s left is this massive, pussy-drunk beast lost in the wet, velvety heaven of your cunt, hips already snapping forward on pure instinct.
He starts fucking you like a man possessed—brutal, heavy slams of his hips driving that monstrous cock into you over and over, each violent thrust shoving your body further up the bed until the headboard slams against the wall. His heavy balls clap loudly against your ass with every savage bottom-out, the wet, obscene squelch of Gris and Enjin’s cum being churned and fucked deeper inside your sloppy pussy filling the small room like filthy music.
Bro huffs hot, desperate breaths through his nose right against your cheek, warm brown eyes half-lidded and wild, barely even seeing you anymore beneath him. He’s lost—so fucking lost—in the way your cunt clenches and flutters around his girth, the creamy mess of the other two men’s loads squelching out around his shaft with every punishing stroke, the way your body takes him so perfectly even though he’s splitting you in half.
You can’t even make a sound. No moans. No cries. Nothing.
Your face stays completely blank except for the huge, delirious smile plastered across your swollen lips, eyes glassy and unfocused as he rails you senseless. Your hands twitch weakly against the back of his thick neck, legs swinging loosely over his hips like a broken doll while he pounds into you with single-minded desperation.
Every punishing thrust knocks the air from your lungs and forces fresh gushes of mixed cum to leak out around his pistoning shaft, dripping down your ass and soaking the sheets in a warm, sticky puddle.
It’s so fucking good.
Nothing else in the world exists right now except the devastating stretch of Bro’s massive cock sinking into you again and again. You’re not even registering the other two men in the room anymore — Enjin and Gris might as well not be there. All you can feel is this so-called gentle giant pulling you apart, splitting you open on that monstrous length like he was made to ruin you.
Gris turns to Enjin with clear worry etched across his face, blue eyes narrowed as they both watch their friend absolutely devour your tiny body. The complete lack of noise from you— no moans, no broken cries, just that eerie, delirious silence—has the calm supporter’s stomach twisting. But Enjin just shrugs, letting out a low, impressed whistle as he drops onto his side beside you, propping his head up on one tattooed hand so he can watch your face up close, yellow eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction.
Gris does the same on your other side, his tall frame shifting carefully so he doesn’t jostle the bed too much more than the savage beating its already taking from Bro, eyes narrowing slightly at the sheer raw force said man is using.
They study your face—eyes distant and glassy, that huge, delirious smile never fading even as you sniff, hiccup, and pant in tiny, helpless bursts with every savage thrust of Bro’s cockhead bullying against your cervix. Drool slips from the corner of your mouth, and your lashes flutter like you’re floating somewhere far beyond words.
“It’s official,” Enjin declares, voice lazy and smug, that infuriatingly smug grin splitting his face wide as he reaches over and wipes a stray line of drool from your bottom lip with his thumb. “We’ve broken her.”
Gris shoots Enjin a sharp look that clearly says this is your fault, but Enjin pays him no mind, still grinning like the asshole he is. Gris turns back to Bro instead, voice low and steady with that measured calm. “Maybe you should take it easy on her, man.”
Bro doesn’t register the words at all. He just keeps slamming into you with single-minded desperation, hips snapping hard and relentless, a low growl rumbling in his chest every time your cunt flutters weakly around his massive length. The headboard slamming violently against the wall again and again with every thrust, the entire bed creaking dangerously under his power like it might give out any second.
Your eyes stay glassy and unfocused, that stupid, blissed-out smile never leaving your face as Bro turns your cunt inside out. The rutting beast hellbent on breeding you until there’s nothing left, his heavy balls slapping wetly continuously against your ass while fresh gushes of mixed cum squelch out around his pistoning shaft.
Gris decides to check on you. He reaches out and gently cups your cheek, turning your face toward him with careful fingers.
“Little one, are you okay?” he asks, worry clear in his voice. “Is he being too much for you?”
You look up at him, but your gaze is distant, completely unfocused. It’s impossible to tell where your eyes are actually landing. Instead of answering, your tongue darts out and licks slowly across the palm of his hand—warm, wet, and utterly mindless—like you have no idea what you’re even touching, just chasing the taste of skin on pure instinct.
Enjin falls back onto the bed laughing, clutching his stomach at your delirious reaction, the sound bright and unrestrained.
Gris’s expression shifts from worry to clear annoyance in a heartbeat. He lets go of your face, grabs the half-empty water bottle from the nightstand, and hurls it at Enjin without hesitation. The bottle smacks against the side of Enjin’s head with a solid thunk and bounces off, landing on the bed and spilling water all over the already ruined sheets.
Enjin only laughs harder, tears in his eyes.
It only irritates Gris further. The older man grits his teeth slightly, the flicker of annoyance tightening his jaw as he watches Bro completely lose control. He crosses his broad arms over his chest, eyes never leaving your face and body for even a second — sharp, protective, and hyper-focused.
He is watching you like a hawk, ready to step in the instant you look like you might actually pass out or if Bro truly becomes too much. Every brutal slam of those massive hips makes the bed creak dangerously, and Gris’s fingers twitch once against his own biceps, the only outward sign of the tension coiled inside him.
Both Enjin and Gris know exactly what is coming the second this is over. Once Bro’s pussy-drunk haze finally clears and he actually sees the state he has left you in — body limp and trembling beneath him, face slack with that delirious, fucked-stupid smile, cunt swollen and puffy, leaking thick rivers of mixed cum down your thighs and soaking the sheets — the gentle giant is going to crumble.
He’ll probably drop right to his knees on the floor beside the bed, hands clasped together, begging the Sphere to smite him where he stands, voice cracking with pure mortification that he turned you into such a wrecked, sloppy, cum-soaked mess. But until then, Bro’s rhythm never falters. His massive body stays draped over yours, hips snapping forward in that relentless, breeding pace, cock bullying so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat.
Your arms stay loosely wrapped around his neck, fingers twitching uselessly against the back of his head as he fucks you like he wants to put a baby in you right here and now. Your legs bounce limply over his hips with every slam, toes curled tight, body jiggling from the force. The delirious smile on your face never wavers, even as fresh tears of overwhelming pleasure slip from the corners of your glassy eyes.
You can feel it — your consciousness slipping from you as Bro keeps driving his cock into you over and over again — but you’re far beyond words to voice it. Your glassy eyes stay unfocused, that fucked out smile still plastered across your lips even as your body starts to go completely limp under the onslaught. Your hands have lost what little strength they had; they slip weakly from Bro’s neck and flop onto the sheets. Your legs swing loosely over his hips, toes twitching with every savage drive of his cock.
Bro’s rhythm turns even more feral, hips snapping even harder, faster, like he is trying to fuck you pregnant right here and now. His balls slaps wetly against your ass with every brutal bottom-out, the obscene squelch of all the loads being churned deep inside your overstuffed cunt echoing through the room.
Then it hits him.
Bro’s massive cock swells even thicker inside you, veins pulsing violently as his balls draw up tight. His entire body locks up, a broken, guttural roar tearing from deep in his chest as he buries himself to the hilt.
The first powerful spurt explodes inside you like a floodgate bursting — thick, hot, and endless. Rope after heavy rope of cum pumps into your womb in violent, rhythmic jets, each one stronger than the last. He doesn’t just cum; he floods you.
The sheer volume is obscene, pulse after pulse after pulse, so much that your belly starts to feel bloated and full almost instantly. His hips grind hard and deep, forcing every last drop as far inside you as it will go, churning the mess of Gris and Enjin’s loads together with his own until it gushes out around the thick base of his cock in creamy white rivulets, soaking your ass and the sheets beneath you.
Bro keeps pumping, hips stuttering and grinding as more and more cum surges into you — long, heavy spurts that seem to never stop, each one making your already overstuffed cunt flutter weakly around him. The pressure builds until it is too much, until your vision tunnels and your huge, blissed-out smile finally slips away.
Your eyes roll back completely. A tiny, breathless whimper is the last sound that escapes you before your body goes completely limp beneath him — arms falling slack, head lolling to the side, consciousness slipping away in one final, overwhelming surge of pleasure.
You pass out right as Bro finishes flooding you, his cock still throbbing and pumping the last thick ropes of cum deep into your ruined little cunt while your body twitches weakly around him in one last, unconscious flutter.
Bro lets out a deep, guttural noise as he finally empties the last of himself into your womb. He keeps grinding into you through every last throb, hips rolling slow and possessive like he refuses to waste even a single drop, forcing it all as far inside you as it will go.
Only when the final weak spurts taper off does he slowly pull back. His heavy, spent cock slips from your puffy folds with a wet, obscene sound and lays messily across your soft tummy, still twitching and leaking the last remnants of his cum onto your skin.
“Fuck…” Bro breathes out, voice rough and dazed.
He leans up slightly, taking a few deep breaths as he rolls his broad shoulders like he just woke up from the world’s most satisfying nap.
Gris and Enjin both knew you are down for the count the second it happened.
They watched the exact moment your eyes rolled back—lashes fluttering once, twice, then going completely slack as your head lolled sideways against the pillow. Bro was still buried to the hilt, pushing the final heavy waves of his load deep into your already overflowing cunt, thick ropes of cum mixing with Gris and Enjin’s earlier creampies until it was all just one warm, sloppy mess being forced even deeper with every grinding thrust.
Gris had tried telling him to stop—voice low and urgent, one large hand reaching out to grip Bro’s shoulder. “Bro—easy, she’s out—” But the gentle giant was too far gone, too deaf to anything but the tight, fluttering heat of your cunt still milking him on pure reflex.
Those warm brown eyes were glazed over, half-lidded and wild, his broad chest heaving as he kept rutting into your unconscious little body like a man possessed, hips snapping forward in short, desperate strokes that made fresh gushes of mixed cum squelch obscenely out around his massive shaft.
So now they’re just waiting for Bro to realize it.
“Thanks, chiquita. That was—”
Bro’s voice catches in his throat the moment he finally looks down at your sleeping form. His warm brown eyes widen in pure panic.
“Oh god! Did I kill her?!” His voice cracks with alarm. “Please tell me I didn’t kill her!”
“Relax,” Gris says calmly, reaching out to press two fingers against the side of your neck, checking your pulse. “She’s fine. You just went a little overboard. We all did.”
He ends the sentence with a hard, pointed stare directed straight at Enjin, who simply flashes that signature that cocky, dimpled grin, completely unbothered.
Bro falls back onto his knees, fingers scrambling anxiously as he yanks his pants back up his thick thighs. The fabric catches again around his sneakers, but he doesn’t even notice. His warm brown eyes are wide with panic as he stares at your limp, sleeping form.
“What should we do?” he blurts, voice cracking. “The madam is gonna kill us if she finds out we— I made her black out.”
Gris stays calm, one large hand still resting gently on your neck as he monitors your pulse. “Right now all we can do is wait for her to come back around. She just passed out from exhaustion. She’ll need a good amount of calories when she wakes — she’s burnt off a lot.”
Gris glances over at Enjin, who is still lounging on the edge of the bed, openly admiring the huge, creamy spill of cum leaking from your puffy, overused cunt.
“Enjin.”
The blond looks up with a lazy, questioning tilt of his head.
“Does she have any food in her supply box?”
Enjin thinks for a second, brows scrunching in thought. “I think she’s got some protein bars. Not sure.” He slides off the bed and starts rooting through the small wooden box in the corner where you keep your aftercare supplies.
“I’ll go get her some food!” Bro offers quickly, already trying to stand even though his pants are still only half-pulled up. “Something greasy and fatty would probably help her get the calories back. I’ll run to that stall down the street — the one with the fried meat skewers. I’ll be fast, I swear.”
He looks desperate to make up for the way he just absolutely wrecked your small body, guilt written all over his flushed face.
Gris grunts in quiet agreement. Bro quickly tugs the rest of his clothes back on, still half-hard and flushed, and excuses himself from the room with a mumbled “I’ll be right back.”
The gentle giant fidgets with his hands the entire way down the narrow, creaky stairs. His massive frame makes the old wood groan under every step. He keeps glancing back up the hallway like he’s expecting the madam to already know what they just did to you.
As he passes the front desk, a sharp voice slices through the thick, incense-heavy air.
“Hey you. Cleaner.”
Bro Santa freezes mid-step, his massive shoulders hunching like a scolded kid. Sweat beads instantly on his forehead. He turns slowly toward the reception desk and points a thick, trembling finger at his own broad chest.
“You speaking to me?”
The madam doesn’t even glance up from her dog-eared magazine. “No, I was talking to the wall. Of course I’m speaking to you.”
Bro recoils despite his enormous size, looking every bit like a scolded puppy. “Y-yeah…?”
“Where are the two blonds?” she asks flatly. “The troublemaker and the gentleman.”
“Oh—uh, they’re still upstairs with her,” Bro lies, rubbing the back of his neck with one massive hand. “She just said she was hungry, so I thought I’d grab her some food.”
“How thoughtful,” the madam mutters dryly, flipping a page with zero enthusiasm. “She doesn’t like spice. Shit makes her cry like a toddler.”
Bro nods quickly, ears burning. “Uh… thanks.”
He turns toward the door, already reaching for the handle, when her voice stops him again.
“Get me some smokes while you’re out. I’m almost out.”
Without lifting her eyes from the magazine, the madam holds up the near-empty carton and gives it a single, lazy shake.
Enjin lies sprawled on your freshly made bed, arms folded behind his head as he takes a slow drag from his cigarette. Gris had made him strip the soiled sheets and remake the bed while he himself gently washed your body down with a warm cloth and dressed you in the softest oversized shirt he could find in your dresser.
Now Gris stands at the window, broad back to the room, quietly watching the night sky as he holds you securely in his arms. Your face is nestled against his chest, breathing slow and even in exhausted sleep.
“You look like a dad standing there with her in your arms,” Enjin muses, exhaling a lazy plume of smoke, that lazy, troublemaker smirk tugging at his lips.
Gris hasn’t said a single word to him since Bro left the room, giving his friend the cold shoulder the entire time.
After a long beat of silence, Gris finally answers in his low, gravelly voice, calm but carrying a quiet edge of disapproval.
“I wouldn’t have let it go that far if you hadn’t kept pushing her, Enjin.”
Enjin chews on the end of his cigarette, then takes another slow drag. “You can’t parent me when you enjoyed every second of it just as much as I did,” he says, that lazy, knowing smirk spreading across his face as he lounges on your bed. He tilts his head, voice dropping into a low, mocking imitation of Gris’s own gravelly tone. “Gonna breed this cute little cunt.”
Gris stiffens for a brief moment, jaw tightening at the way Enjin throws his own words right back in his face. But he lets out a quiet, measured breath and resigns himself to the truth. His voice stays low and calm, even as he holds you closer against his chest. “Semiu’s gonna have our heads if the brothel ever files a complaint.”
“They won’t,” Enjin replies easily, exhaling a lazy plume of smoke toward the ceiling. “You saw how happy she was. Loved every second of it.”
Gris pauses for a moment before grunting in agreement.
A comfortable silence fills the room for a beat before Enjin speaks again, voice still light and teasing.
“You gonna see her again?”
Gris finally turns his head just enough to glance back at his friend, blue eyes steady. Then he looks out the window once more, arms tightening protectively around your sleeping form.
“Not with you.”
Enjin barks out a low, amused laugh, dimples carving deep into his cheeks. “That’s the spirit.”
Bro returns a few minutes later, heavy plastic bags dangling from both forearms. The gentle giant looks a little flushed from the quick run, but his warm brown eyes are still full of nervous energy as he steps back into the room.
“I didn’t know what she liked, so I got a bit of everything,” he says quietly, lifting the bags like an offering.
Gris nods once, shifting you carefully in his arms so he can try to rouse you. His large hand gently strokes your back, voice low and steady. “Sweetheart… time to wake up a little. You need to eat.”
You only make a soft, sleepy sound and snuggle deeper into his chest, face pressing warmly against the steady thump of his heartbeat. Your body is still boneless and heavy with exhaustion, clearly content to stay right where you are — safe and surrounded by his warmth.
Enjin lets out a low chuckle from where he’s sprawled on the bed. “Daddy Gris! Love it,” he teases, that cocky, dimpled grin stretching wide across his face.
Gris grimaces, shooting Enjin a flat look, but he doesn’t rise to the bait. He simply adjusts you more comfortably against him, one large hand sliding down the curve of your spine to settle at the small of your back. He shifts you higher in his lap like you weigh nothing as he settles back against the headboard.
Bro sets the bags down on the nightstand with careful, massive hands, already sorting through the takeout boxes like the gentle giant he is—pulling out containers of fried meat skewers, rice, and whatever else he’d grabbed in his panic-fueled run. The room fills with the warm, savory scent of street food, cutting through the thick musk of sex still clinging to the sheets.
Once everything is laid out, Enjin immediately jumps in, leaning over with that typical smitk carved deep into his dimples as he snags one of the biggest skewers right off the top. He’s already chewing before Gris can even open his mouth, tattooed fingers glistening with grease.
“Enjin,” Gris rumbles, voice low and gravelly with that measured edge of disapproval. “This is for her.”
Enjin shrugs, completely unbothered, licking a smear of sauce from his thumb with a lazy swipe of his tongue. “Gotta refuel too, big guy. I burned plenty of calories putting that load in her. Can’t have me passing out next round, right?”
Gris just sighs as Enjin takes his prize.
Bro kneels beside the bed while the blondes argue, his massive frame somehow making the creaky floorboards groan even in stillness. Those huge hands, surprisingly gentle as he lifts one of your trembling legs and begins to massage your calf with slow, careful strokes, thumbs pressing deep into the tight, overworked muscles. He works the knots loose with reverent pressure, the kind that says he’s still half-apologizing for the way he just wrecked you senseless, trying to make sure you won’t wake up tomorrow feeling like one giant, throbbing bruise.
He glances over at Enjin, who’s sprawled across the edge of the bed digging into one of the takeout boxes with zero shame, chopsticks clicking greedily. Bro’s deep, rumbly voice comes out soft, almost hesitant, warm brown eyes flicking back to your peaceful, sleeping face. “Have you ever made her pass out like that, Enjin?”
Enjin shakes his head, mouth full of food, and mumbles around a fat bite, “Nah. Not even close.”
Bro sighs heavily, shoulders slumping as fresh guilt settles over his broad frame like a weighted blanket. His thumbs keep working those slow, soothing circles into your calf, eyes never leaving your slack, blissed-out expression—like every gentle press of his palms is still trying to say sorry for the way he’d just flooded your poor little cunt until you blacked out around his massive cock. Your body is still leaking the evidence of it all: thick, creamy rivulets of mixed cum slowly trickling from your puffy, abused folds, thighs shiny and sticky, chest rising and falling in soft, exhausted little breaths.
Enjin looks down into his food, poking around it with his fork, a grin slipping back onto his face. “But then again. She’s never called me papi.”
Bro freezes up mid-stroke, cheeks flushing dark under the warm lamplight. Enjin immediately cackles, that infuriating smirk splitting his face wide enough to show every dimple while he nearly chokes on his bite. Gris just sighs, low and gravelly, leaning in to check you over once more—large hand gently brushing damp strands of hair from your forehead, blue eyes steady and calm as he makes sure your pulse is still even under his fingertips.
“Chill, man,” Enjin chuckles, that signature grin still plastered across his face, though his voice carries a softer, more understanding undertone. “What happens in this room, stays in this room.”
Bro ducks his head, ears burning pink, but he mumbles a quiet “Thanks… for understanding,” even as his huge hands keep working your sore calf with careful tenderness.
Enjin looks up then, yellow eyes glinting with mischief as he spies nothing in particular, just tapping his fork lazily against the box. “Though… I do wonder what she would call me.”
Gris and Bro both turn to look at him at the same time, the three of them sharing a slow, knowing smile that hangs in the thick, sex-scented air like smoke.
The three men chat idly around you while you sleep soundly, your wrecked little body still twitching with the occasional aftershock. Enjin shamelessly steals more bites from your takeout boxes, grinning like he owns the place, while Gris carefully lays you down on the bed so Bro can continue working the tension out of your sore muscles and joints. All of them know you’re going to wake up tomorrow feeling like one big, throbbing ache after everything they put your greedy little body through—and only Enjin’s the one not even a little sorry about it.
Once they’re satisfied that you’re safe and properly settled, they prepare to leave. Gris takes a moment to scribble a short, apologetic note, signing it with all three of their names before placing it neatly on your nightstand. He tucks the blankets around you gently one last time, making sure the cooling takeout boxes are left within easy reach for when you wake up.
Three days later, the familiar rap on your door cuts through the quiet afternoon hum of the brothel.
Before you can even sit up, the latch clicks and Enjin lets himself in with that same lazy swagger, long gray Cleaner coat swaying around his legs, yellow eyes already gleaming with mischief. The second his gaze lands on you—curled up on the bed in nothing but an oversized shirt—those dimples carve deep into his cheeks.
“Yo!” he pipes, voice warm and bright as summer trash-rain. “Knew you’d survive that monster cock.”
You roll your eyes hard enough to see the back of your skull, but you can’t hide the flush that crawls up your neck and blooms across your cheeks. “Barely.”
Enjin’s grin only widens. He shrugs out of the heavy coat in one fluid motion, letting it drop to the floor without a second glance. The mattress dips under his weight as he climbs onto the bed without asking—like he owns the damn room, like he owns you—and stretches out on his side right beside you. Propping his head up on one hand as he faces you.
“Gris and Bro won’t stop bugging me about you,” he mutters, that shit-eating grin still firmly in place. “Keep asking if you’re okay. Like I’d let anything happen to my favorite girl.”
You huff a tired laugh as you roll your eyes again—this time mostly for show. “Tell them I’m fine, idiot.”
Gris and Bro corner him, almost instantly when he strolls back into HQ.
They catch him right in the main lounge, still smelling like smoke and the faint trace of your room. The two taller men box him in near the couch, voices low but insistent as they fire off question after question.
“Is she alright?”
“Did she seem mad at us?”
“Was she sore?”
“Does she hate us?”
The questions come mostly from Bro, the gentle giant fidgeting with his hands, shoulders hunched like he’s still carrying the weight of that night. He’s been quietly beating himself up for days, replaying every brutal thrust and the way your eyes rolled back right before you passed out. Gris stands beside him, arms crossed, face calm as always, but his blue eyes are sharp with the same quiet concern.
Enjin just leans back against the wall, that same typical shit-eating grin spreading slow across his face. He takes his time pulling a fresh cigarette from his pack, lighting it with a flick of his lighter before he finally answers.
“She’s perfectly fine,” he says, voice lazy and warm with amusement. “Actually… she wanted me to tell you both something.”
He pauses just long enough to take a drag, letting the suspense build while both men stare at him.
Enjin exhales a slow plume of smoke, dimples carving deep as his grin turns downright wicked.
Bro Santa relationship headcannons, suggestive, fluffy, really smutty, (I love Bro sm) 20% Fluff 80% Smut. Bro x wife reader, mentions of pregnancy
● He's the definition of a gentle giant. He looks really scary but he's the sweetest and the first guy to actually treat you right.
● His heart melts whenever he sees you helping out with the kids and being extra gentle with Dear. When you start treating Dear like your own son he looses composure, he starts thinking of marrying you all over again.
● He decided to ask you to marry him because he loved everything about you and because of how you accommodated for Dear and Guita even when he wasn't around.
● He's very romantic when it comes to you. He loves giving you princess treatment because duh you're the mother of his kids why wouldn't he want to spoil you.
● Your man is very touchy. He loves physical affection. Being with Bro is like having a big care bear on standby. His hugs are amazing and his kisses are to die for. It's something about feeling his beard that just gets you going.
● Bro LOVES to use any excuse he has to talk about his wife. Oh someone comes up to him at the bar "Excuse me I need to find my wife", he gets hit on "Thats actually my phat pussy wife over there" before walking away to give you a hug.
● He likes carrying you around on his back or in a princess carry.
● He loves being so tall because of the size different between you, it's something that turns him on but he wouldn't express that out loud.
● He had a fat crush on you when you first met. Gris teased him for a week about it until he got the courage to talk to you.
● He's willing to try anything in the bedroom as long as it doesn't hurt you. If he ends up hurting you he'll apologize for a week straight and try to make it up with acts of service like watching the kids or cooking so you can rest.
● He would NEVER fuck you like you're some fleshlight. He would cater to your needs first before he even thinks about his own pleasure.
● He's a D1 eater, he's eaten both the front and the back. He doesn't care if you have hair on your kitty or not. He's a grown man ass some hair isn't going to stop him.
● He ate a kiwi with the skin on it to prove that some hair wouldn't bother him. It was a disturbing sight.
● You were hospitalized and had to put him on a sex ban because he bruised your cervix really bad. He was mortified and even when the ban lifted he was still hesitant to go rough.
● 1000% has a breeding kink.
● Absolutely no degradation. He cant think of a reason to degrade his goddess of a wife. He thinks he's lucky you even looked in his direction. If you ask him to degrade you then he'll try but no ill words about you will be spoken in his presence.
● Everyone in HQ has accepted that you're a national treasure and that Bro is obsessed with you.
● He's immediately hard if he sees you wearing a silk cammie. The sight of you struggling to stay away in your little silk cammie with your tits spilling out the sides has him in a trance. Oh what did you say? Im sorry pookie he already made breakfast.
● For mother's day he ate your pussy and spent the day as a "relaxation" day for you. He didn't let you lift a finger all day.
● If you're pregnant he's somehow becomes more helpful. He stocks up on baby necessities, if you have too much breastmilk he'll make some non scented soaps to help with eczema or irritated skin that you or the baby may have.
● He's constantly giving you massages to help you through your pregnancy. If your milk ducts are clogged he'll try to massage the area or gently suck on your tities because he hates to see his pretty mama in pain.
As always pls let me know if theres any spelling errors and have a good day😭)
(This went all the way left, it was supposed to be fluff headcannons but my brain decided to cook straight up poison. Ive noticed that I really enjoy reading and replying to comments, I dont get many but when I do get some my brain does a backflip
It's currently 5:00am and I am TIRED sooo I'll see you when I see you ♡
Bro Santa aims to please. If you aren’t left blissed out and satisfied by the time he’s done with you, he hasn’t done his job right. He’s a passionate man, that’s for sure. He’ll spend hours licking and sucking at your sensitive clit. If he could, Bro Santa would spend an eternity between your legs. He takes his time working you to an orgasm, he’d never rush you. The only time he breaks off you is to tell you about how messy your cunt is. The sounds you make while he’s tongue fucking you are enough to make in cum alone. And don’t think pushing his head off or closing your legs will stop him. Bro will simply wrap his strong arms around your thighs to hold you in place, then get back to business. When he thinks you need a breather, he’ll flip you over and finger you while giving your other hole some love.
Bro loves to be close to you, he needs it even. You don’t have to lift a finger with Bro, he’ll raise your legs and wrap them around his waist himself. At least one hand has to be on you when he fucks you. A big hand to grope and fondle your breasts, or play with your clit, or even hold you closer to him. And Bro just has to leave kisses all over your face and neck as he talks you through it. His dick hits all the right spots inside you. The sounds he pulls from you are sinful. Bro wouldn’t even dream of cumming until you’ve came three times on his dick…at least.
i couldn't stop thinking abt bundus calling himself daddy (thx, @notbyleth) so my coochie decided to perch at her desk once more and write this for me
tags: mild daddy kink + afab reader + fingering.
wrd count: 1.3k+
you slot perfectly between bundus' meaty thighs. your back is pressed against his chest and you can feel bits of his chest hairs that peek over the horizon of his ribbed tank top tickle the nape of your neck. with a catalog in your hands, you scoot back and your ass feathers the trace of his bulge covered in denim.
not too long ago, bundus was struggling to read the small print of his daily catalog, one he tends to read every day, paired with a cup of joe as black as coal and a slice of toast doused in salted butter (something you scowl him for consuming each morning). he grumbles something along the lines of youngins and their frivolous need for aesthetic before handing the paper to you, spreading his legs, and patting the tantalizing space between them as though you're a cocker spaniel.
but you obey, gleefully, and with the wag of your tail, you gift him a wide-toothed smile when he calls you his good girl.
you hold the catalog and bundus turns the page to where he last left off—a page filled with pastel pinks and greens as they advertise for the local bakery down the street. it undoubtedly catches your attention because your eyes start to scatter around the lighthearted pages.
"read this line here," he points to the tiny paragraph of text on the left page. "whatever the hell it says, maybe it's somethin' good."
so you adjust your seating, a lovely grin decorates your lips as you give a faux cough before starting. "come and try our sweetest thing on the menu, tempting tiramisu," you give your butt a wiggle in delight. "our coffee-soaked ladyfingers topped with our creamy mascarpone and dusted with rich cocoa powder will keep you coming back for more! so, make time to stop by and grab a slice before you end up eagerly waiting for a fresh batch the next day."
its been a while since you've craved something sweet on your tongue. you've tried tiramisu once and you fell in love with the creamy goodness. fortunately for you, this quaint bakery is only a few blocks away, and you're sure bundus wouldn't mind handing you an unreasonable sum of money for a quick dessert.
you look back at him with a grin. his eyes still wander along the girlish design.
"this sounds good, doesn't it? you shouldn't really be eating a lot of the sweet stuff, but we can share!" bundus squints at the page before letting out a disappointed huff, causing your shoulders drop at the subdued tension.
"it does sound good, darlin', but you know i'm not a fan of false advertisement," he scratches an itch under his chin, the grating sound pouring out from his beard. "stops people from steppin' foot in their stores. that'll just ruin the brand. keep 'em out of business if ya' ask me."
the tilt of your head and the blinks of your eyes were to be expected—what was he talking about? everything read as legit to you; the tiramisu, the enticing description, the pretty design, all of which would have you bolt through the doors of their bakery and order their newest item on the menu plus more.
so what was it that bundus claimed as false advertisement?
"i don't get it." you begin, confusion slips with each beat of your words. "i think they did a good job," you let out a defeated shrug. "i would like to go." and to that, bundus tuts and gives a small disapproving shake of his head.
"now that's no good, sugar. thought i taught you better than to be fooled by pretty words on pretty pages."
he taps at the line you just read and glares at you under olive hues— if you look harder, there's a flicker of mischief that flies past his pupils. "read daddy this here line for me again." you gulp and your thighs twitch at the keyword that draws from his lips like bourbon whiskey.
your eyes meet the letters once more. you let out a cough and this time its genuine, "c-come try our sweetest thing on the menu, tempting tiramisu-" you're interrupted by a meaty finger on your bottom lip which stimulates you to turn to the side and take in the smile that rises on your lover's face.
"hear that?" it's a question with a touch of a quip. "'sweetest thing on the menu', they say." bundus rests his chin on your shoulder, his mouth hovered dangerously over your ear, the warm smell of coffee beans whirled to your nose. he spreads your legs wider before he submerges you in his liquid charm.
"how can that be true when i got the sweetest pussy right here in front of me?" his eyes are lidded as he says it, like an old dog that never lost its sly edge.
"ooh, bundus…" you squirm when his right hand reaches down to cup the gusset of your cotton panties, feeling you drench the fabric with your wetness. he prods at your entrance in teasing bumps, cherishing your delicate moans that slip from your tongue.
"look at you, your cunt is already soaking for daddy, ain't that right?" the soothing bass of his voice leaves you feeling hot and restless. your hand falls from the catalog to lie among the thick muscle of his thigh as you buck your hips into his hand.
"bundus, you know what that word does to me." you croak. his fingers trace along your covered slit for a few strokes before reeling up to your sensitive clit and rewarding it with tiny circles.
his hulking form leans closer to your back, smothering you in notes of sandalwood and coffee as he nibbles at the lobe of your ear.
"i know what it does, that's why i'm gonna keep sayin' it. c'mon now, baby. play along." he slaps the side of your thigh that forces a mewl from you.
"daddy don't need no bakery when i can just get a taste of that sweet cunt right here." he slides your panties to the side to gain access to your sweltering heat, delving his fingers in your sopping pussy. his fingers are thicker and longer than yours, and they reach areas your own can't. you grind against his digits when he curls his fingers upward, hitting that spot that encouraged you to clench around him.
but he pulls out before you can get too comfortable. his moist fingers find purchase under his nose, which he gives a deep sniff before pushing them between his lips. he grunts while doing so, it's low and airy and the sounds make you rut your ass against his already hard dick.
I’ve been thinking about Bro Santa having a big heart and bigger dick. Imagine this man has you in the meanest mating press with your knees almost touching your ears, and Bro is pounding you to the point of tears. Your legs are shaking and you’re crying about how good it feels. Meanwhile, Bro is wiping your tears and cooing about how well you’re taking him as if he isn’t the reason you’re crying right now.
Or maybe he has you in prone bone with his full weight on top of you. He’s fucked you to the point of seeing stars. You just came down from your nth orgasm and he’s working you up to another already. You can barely form words yet Bro Santa is peppering every inch of your face with kisses.
satoru's obsessed with your glasses (˶ˆ꒳ˆ˵)
୨୧ dryhumping softdom!toru
satoru has a thing for your glasses. you're not sure what it is... or why it is. they're just lenses—you keep them on so that you don't run into walls or break traffic laws. they're practical, that's all. for you, at least.
for him? they drive satoru fucking crazy. his current obsession is the way they fog up when you're kissing and how they slide down the bridge of your nose when his teeth clash frantically against yours, spit mixing.
you'll be sitting on his lap, in nothing but one of his old shirts and panties, arousal soaking through the fabric of them, and right onto his boxers.
like now.
"fuck, you're so pretty, doll," satoru breathes, looking at you through his lashes. his hands sit firmly on your hips, keeping you close to him.
he watches with a grin as you huff in frustration, pushing your glasses back up. again. all because he won't let you take them off. despite that, your hips don't stop rolling against his, your clit catching on his budge with every motion.
soft moans slip past your lips, and he presses his mouth to yours, drinking them all up. he trails down to your neck, leaving wet kisses, occasionally stopping to suck softly on your skin.
"sato—i think m'close," you whine, gripping the fabric of his shirt tighter. your hips stutter against his, and he hums.
his voice is smooth, and he clicks his tongue, "yeah, baby? i can tell. go on, then."
that's really all it takes to push you over the edge, a broken gasp leaving your mouth. you struggle to keep moving against him, but satoru's hands guide you, hips bucking slightly up. he helps you ride your high out, murmuring sweet nothings.
"fuck me, 'toru?" you ask, breathy and dazed, but still needy. he responds by pulling you into another kiss. when your glasses knock against the bridge of his nose again, you pull back, wanting to toss them aside—
Ghost doesn't think so, but everyone on the team knows how he feels about you.
Ghost is a stone cold soldier, unmoving and unflinching in his violence. He shows only the emotions he decides to show and nothing more. Ghost is unreadable and distant.
Simon, the man under the mask, is....well. an open book.
"–No, kyle, you've never had it that's you're issue! It's amazing!" You're in the middle of debating with gaz over where a spoons brownie ranks in desserts, drink in hand and comfortably warm.
The whole team is gathered into a large booth, and with the closeness ghost feels safe not wearing his mask.
Meaning, the entire table gets to see the absolutely lovestruck expression on his face while he looks at you.
"–after this, I'm taking you. I don't care–" ghost stares at you, face all soft. The hard edges of scars from years of battle seem to smooth over into an almost boyish expression of adoration. Like he could exist near you the rest of his life and die happy.
You pause in your debate with kyle to reach across the table and take a handful of crisps right off of ghosts plate, tossing him a smile and a "thanks, si! As i was saying–" Before going right back to it.
If possible, ghost melts even more, smiling so hard his cheeks must hurt, face turning a familiar pink. It's almost painful for the rest of the team to witness.
Because the worst part of it all? You are absolutely oblivious to ghost's expressions.
The guy who couldn't possibly hide a crush if he wanted, and you're the only one who can't seem to grasp what that soft gooey look is that he gives you all the time.
No one's stupid enough to get involved in ghosts love life...but they do all have bets going. Surely you'll figure it out soon...right?
Love thinking of Simon Riley who gets attached to you after literally one honest smile
No one ever really looks up at him. Not to smile or to chat or anything else. People listen to his orders, do their jobs, and go about their day trying to stay as far from him as they can
Ridiculously tall, near inhumanly broad, and usually in a black mask covering his entire head? He’s not the most friendly looking. Not to mention he murders people for a living
He’s a man the demands respect, not one that seems open to casual, relaxed interactions
So when you, someone new on base he’s never really spoken to, look him right in the eye and smile while passing him? He’s obsessed
He’s following you around, figuring out your schedule so he can see you smile at him again
He’s actually nodding in return while looking at you instead of just giving an occasional low grunt of acknowledgment like he does for most people
He’s got no idea how to talk to you, but he’d be damned if he didn’t see your smile at least three times a day
biting ur boyfriend toji :> trying to empty my drafts!! i honestly dk what this is lol, i wrote this almost a year ago. hope you like it * ^_^;;
he’s got you half draped over his chest, your cheek squished against warm skin, still a little dazed from all the sex you two had earlier. toji’s hand is heavy on your back, tracing slow and lazy strokes like he’s smoothing you out after it all.
“you bite too much,” he suddenly mutters but there’s no real harshness in his voice.
you hum, dragging your teeth lightly over his collarbone again just to be annoying. not even hard this time—just enough to feel him tense under you.
“. . .see?” he huffs, fingers pressing firmer into your hip. “just proved my point.”
“you like it,” you mumble against him, lips brushing over the faint marks you left earlier. there’s a darker one near his shoulder and you press a soft kiss over it like you’re proud.
he goes quiet for a second. then his hand slides up, tilting your chin so you actually look at him.
“didn’t say i don’t,” he admits, thumb dragging over your bottom lip like he’s checking for damage—even though you’re the one who did all the biting. “just didn’t think you had it in you.”
you roll your eyes but it’s weak. you’re too soft and too melted into him right now to be properly annoyed.
“you bring it out,” you say.
that makes him smirk. “yeah? that supposed to be my fault?”
you don’t answer. instead, you lean your face down again and sink your teeth into the side of his cheek—not hard but enough to make him suck in a breath.
his grip tightens immediately.
“woman,” he murmurs, his voice dropping rougher now. his other hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, not pushing you away—just holding you there. “keep that up and i’m not letting you rest.”
before you can even react, his palm comes down against your ass—giving you a quick smack. just hard enough to make you jolt against him.
“been real mouthy too,” he adds.
you suck in a breath, glaring at him but it’s ruined by the way you press closer instead of pulling away.
“you were just babying me,” you mumble.
“i still am,” he says, brushing your hair out of your face. his thumb lingers at your jaw. “but don’t get it twisted.”
his hand slides back down, squeezing your hip.
his fingers dig in just a little harder, like a warning, like he’s testing how much you’ll take before you start squirming again. you can feel the way he’s watching you—like he already knows you’re not gonna listen.
“look at you,” he mutters, almost to himself, thumb brushing over your lip again when you part it slightly. “so dirty.”
you huff at that but it comes out breathy and not convincing at all.
then your fingers curl slightly against his chest, nails dragging just enough to leave a faint line this time.
he pushes his fingers in your mouth deeper. you almost choke.
“greedy too?” he murmurs, almost amused, giving your ass another slower, heavier smack this time. “can’t keep your hands or your teeth to yourself?”
you shiver but you don’t stop. you don’t pull away.
if anything, you just press closer, like you want more.
his fingers are still in your mouth when you look up at him, all wide-eyed for a second and he just watches you—completely unfazed, like he’s waiting to see what you’ll do.
“yeah,” he murmurs, quieter now, thumb pressing down on your tongue just enough to make you squirm. “that’s what i thought. weren’t so quiet earlier, eh?”
you make a soft sound around his fingers
but you don’t pull away. if anything, your hands tighten slightly against him.
he notices that too.
“ahh, don’t act shy now,” he adds, tilting his head a little, studying your face. “you were doing all that biting like you had something to prove.”
his fingers slip out of your mouth slow, dragging against your lip and before you can even say anything, his hand is back on your waist—pulling you down harder against him.
then he leans in, brushing his lips against yours, barely giving you a second to react before his tongue slides into your mouth. it’s messy, demanding and hot, like he’s claiming every inch of you. you part for him, matching him clumsily at first, but he groans low at your taste, teeth grazing your bottom lip as his tongue pushes deeper.
he’s pressing you flush against him. every sloppy, needy movement makes your head spin and when you finally moan around him, he just hums against your lips, biting and sucking them in turns, like he can’t get enough.
it’s wild, messy and consuming—and somehow, you love that he’s completely unbothered by how out of control you are.
you let out a quiet breath when he pulled away, your body trembling, reacting before your brain even catches up.
“sensitive?” he mutters.
you glare at him again and it only makes his mouth twitch.
your nails drag over his chest again—sharper this time—and he exhales through his nose, grip tightening instantly. “you’re hard. again.”
“it’s your fault,” he mumbles but there’s something heavier in his voice now. “you never learn to stay still.”
his hand slides lower, fingers stopping at the start of your panties.
“you keep testing me,” he adds, his voice right against your ear now.
his hand goes lower.
that sends a shiver straight through you but you still don’t back off.
instead, stubborn as ever, you lean in—
and bite him again.
there’s a pause. a real one this time.
then he lets out a quiet, almost disbelieving breath, like you just proved him right all over again.
♡ Older!Toji and his shy!girlfriend with daddy issues
cw: daddy issues (obvi), toji calls reader kiddo a few times, daddy used as a nickname, smut, if you’re not interested just scroll <3
You bit your lip anxiously as you stand behind the curtain before finally pulling it across, revealing your boyfriend who was manspreading across the whole small sofa pressed against the wall in the fancy changing room.
He releases a low breath, eyes raking up and down your body like you were going to be his next prey. You awkwardly squirm under his gaze, pulling the dress down just a little bit further.
Toji stands then, stalking towards you before his large hands rest on your hips. “Mm,” he hums in approval. “My favourite one yet.”
He presses a tender kiss against the top of your head. “My gorgeous doll.”
Your cheeks turn bright red as you nervously look around to make sure no one else is nearby. “Thank you,” you mumble, voice sweet as honey and laced with innocence.
Your hand instinctively grabs his bicep when his own slip lower to your ass, copping a feel before leaving a light tap. “Keep this one, doll. The colour looks great on ya’.”
It took Toji a while to notice the effects that certain words or actions had on you. When he’d pat his thigh as an invitation, he didn’t think much of it. But no, you went crazy over the simple action, nuzzling up into his cheek and wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. You’d stay there for hours if you could. Or when he’d call you doll, paired with possessive pronouns ‘my’ or ‘mine’. Your knees would buckle from the nickname, wide eyes staring at him like he’d hung the moon and stars.
He exploited the hell out of all these things when he finally realised. A hand on your thigh in the car, thumb slowly stroking over your skin, or leaning down to speak to you just to see the way your cheeks would turn pink. And those eyes, wide and glossy with adoration.
The one time he slightly raised his voice at you after a long, exhausting mission, tears were brimming in your eye line within seconds, lip jutted out in a pout.
He didn’t have time to apologise and console you before you were full-on crying in the middle of the kitchen, hands hiding your face in embarrassment.
“Kiddo, I didn’t mean it. I’m just tired and hungry, I didn’t mean to yell at ya.”
He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “C’mon, let me see that pretty face.”
You shake your head, instead plopping it onto his chest. “C’mon, princess. I got hangry, didn’t mean to take it out on you.”
One hand slips to the back of your thighs before you’re lifted into the air, legs wrapping around his waist. “Let me make it up to you.”
You almost pass away from embarrassment one night, the sound of Toji’s hips slapping against the back of your thighs filling the air.
He’s got you in a mean mating press, cheeks flushed and hair messy as you moan and whimper beneath him.
“Ngh,” you whine. “Mm, T-toji-“ His hips snap roughly, forcing his cock even deeper. “Fuck! Ngh- daddy-“
His movements falter before they stop fully. You’re staring up at him in pure horror and embarrassment.
Then, he laughs roughly. “Didn’t know you were into that shit, kid.”
“I’m sorry- I’m really sorry, didn’t mean to-“
He shushes you quickly. “‘s fine, doll. Thought it was kinda hot.”
His hips suddenly thrust forwards, a loud squelching sound eliciting from where you were connected. You grasp onto the bed covers desperately.
“Say it again, doll.” He sets an even pace, rough, brutal thrusts that have you babbling mindlessly.
“Daddy, fuck! Mnghh-“
An evil smirk spreads across his lips. “Yeah, there’s a good girl.” He grins like a psychopath when you clench around him. “Ya like daddy fucking you nice and good? Want daddy to fill up this pretty little pussy?”
You nod, embarrassingly eager, the start of your orgasm slowly building. He reaches forward, one large hand groping your breast and pinching your nipple in between his thumb and forefinger as he fucks you. Your head tips back in pleasure, mouth falling open and legs twitching closed as your orgasms rushes over you in strong waves.
Toji finishes with you, pulling out with a strong feeling of satisfaction in his chest. “So… a daddy kink, huh?”
You squeak with embarrassment, burying your face in his chest.
cw: explicit smut, somno-ish, masturbation, Toji being a shameless horndog who can’t control himself.
Toji Fushiguro had never been good at sleeping through the night.
The bedroom was dark except for the thin silver slice of streetlight sneaking through the half-closed blinds. You were curled on your side facing him, one leg hooked over the sheet. Your hair was a mess across the pillow, lips slightly parted, one hand tucked loosely under your cheek. Your breathing was slow, steady, tits rising and falling under one of his old black tees that you’d claimed months ago. The hem had ridden up again, exposing the soft swell of your ass, the bare curve where thigh met hip. No panties. Of course no fuckin’ panties. You always “forgot” when you slept over.
His cock was already hard just from your body next to his. He shifted onto his back, trying to will it down and failed. One hand slid under the waistband of his boxers almost without conscious thought as he wrapped his fingers around himself, base to tip in one long, lazy stroke. Fuck.
You didn’t stir. He kept his eyes on you while he worked himself harder. Watched the rise and fall of your chest under the thin cotton, the way your nipples pressed faintly against the fabric when you shifted and how your lips part on a soft, sleepy sigh.
His grip tightened as he thumbed over the head, smearing the bead of precum that had already leaked out, using it to slick the way down. His hips rocked once into his fist and the mattress creaked under the movement. He froze scared he woke you but you stayed asleep.
Good girl, he thought, fisting himself harder. He sped up—quiet, controlled strokes, wrist twisting just under the head the way he liked. His free hand fisted the sheet beside him so he wouldn’t reach for you, wouldn’t wake you with rough fingers sliding between your thighs to find you already wet for him like you always seemed to be. You stirred, pressing your ass back against his hip and god, that only made him more horny.
His breathing grew rougher, his abs tightening as he imagined you waking up—eyes sleepy and confused at first, then widening when you realized what he was doing. Imagined you biting your lip, reaching over without a word, wrapping your smaller hand around his and helping him finish. Or better—sliding down under the covers, taking him into your warm mouth while he gripped your hair and tried not to thrust too hard down your throat.
The image pushed him closer. His strokes turned sloppy—faster, wetter, the slick sound barely muffled by the sheet. His balls drew up tight. You shifted again—rolling closer, your forehead brushing his shoulder, one arm flopping across his stomach like you were seeking him out even in sleep.
That did it. Toji came grunting as hot, thick ropes spilling over his fist and onto his stomach, pulse after pulse until his thighs were trembling. He lay there panting, chest heaving, cock still twitching in his loose grip.
You didn’t wake. Just sighed softly, nuzzling into his shoulder like nothing had happened.
He stared at the ceiling for a long minute, heart still slamming, then carefully extracted his hand. Wiped it on the discarded towel he kept on the nightstand for exactly this reason. Tugged the sheet up over both of you.
Then he turned his head, pressed his lips to your hairline. “Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered under his breath as you smiled in your sleep. “Can’t even keep my damn hands to myself when you’re asleep.” He stroked your hair out of your face. “Gonna be the death of me, baby.”
a/n: sigh… I want toji touching himself next to me
Not really a request but this with stopid hybrid reader 😭
How have I never seen this before? Love this so much so cute! CW: mild dehumanizing
Nikto didn't want you on base. Krueger was insistent on having you around, though, so he was stuck with you and your constant need for attention. "Can I trust you to stay here while I train?" He grunts in annoyance, staring at you curled up happily on his pillows.
You kneed the soft material under your hands, eagerly nodding your head. Nikto doesn't believe you, but he can't make the rookies wait any longer. You let out a curious chirp when he walks out of the room, pouting furiously when he shuts and locks the door.
You weren't sleepy, and now you were all alone without anyone to give you attention. But you'd never been alone in Nikto's room before, so now you had all the time you wanted to explore.
Your soft mewling and whining was the first thing König hears when he walks by Nikto's barrack, followed by the older man's frustrated cursing. "Stop whining! Fuck, this shit isn't good for you and now you have to go to the vet!" You let out a soft cry at that, just as König pushes the door open slightly.
"What's happened?" He notices when Nikto picks you up, the slight swell of your belly.
"Little bastard went through my room and ate almost a pound of chocolate." He grumbles as he manages to get a secure enough hold on you to carry you out.
You whine queitly, stomach cramping and gurgling uncomfortably. "You're holding it like it's diseased." König scolds as he takes you into his arms. You cling tight to him, purring only slightly when he rubs your aching tummy.
"Just shut up and take em to the car." He grumbles as he stalks by. "If it's really sick, Krueger is going to kill me."
Nobody fully believed you and Inumaki were dating until you kissed him in front of them.
Sure, Maki had caught you sneaking into his dorm in the middle of the night, bottom lip tucked anxiously between your teeth as you opened the creaky door a few inches and slipped inside, but somehow they just still couldn’t believe it.
When Panda forgot to knock on Inumaki’s door and waltzed straight in, he caught you sat on the edge of his bed in only a towel, scrolling mindlessly on your phone. You looked up and smiled awkwardly. “Toge’s in the shower, I’ll tell him you’re looking for him.” Even after that they all shook their heads in denial.
It wasn’t that they thought Inumaki couldn’t bag a girlfriend, no no. It was that they didn’t think Inumaki could bag you. Maybe your Jujutsu skills were still lacking, considering you were only a first year, or maybe your cursed technique was still lacking some control, but you definitely weren’t lacking in the curves department. When your body twisted and turned during training sessions, your breasts would push up against your uniform, emphasising their size and fullness. Everyone noticed, it was hard not to. They were hard to miss, so every first year and second year had the same question. How did Inumaki handle all that?
Truthfully, he wasn’t even sure himself. His brain short-circuited whenever you wore a low rise top, exposing your cleavage and the top of your breasts.
“Toge? Are you listening?”
His eyes snapped up to yours before he nodded. “Salmon.” Honestly, he hadn’t heard a single word you’d said, too transfixed by your breasts that were threatening to spill out of your top as you laid down on his bed, talking about your day.
Whenever you made out with him on his lap, breasts pressed up against his chest, his breath would catch in his throat, and when you pulled your top off for the first time, hands guiding his own to your bra strap, he forgot how to function properly. With shaky fingers, he unclipped the clasp and peeled your bra from your skin, breasts directly in his vision.
His hand would gently grope one, cautiously needing the flesh in his palm as you arched into his touch. It felt like he had gone to heaven.
Yet, even when he spammed Panda about it afterwards, he got a dry response back, his own friend still not believing him.
The next day at lunch, Inumaki was deflated and annoyed. How did his own friends still think he was bluffing about you?
You noticed, glancing over at him as he ate silently. It was only then that you clicked what was happening when you saw Yuji and Panda exchange a skeptical look. Inumaki had mentioned it a few days ago casually in conversation, a quiet remark about his friends not believing his relationship with you.
So you did the only thing you could, finishing your food and standing. “I’ve gotta find Gojo.” You lean down, turning your boyfriend’s head by his chin and pressing a firm kiss against his mouth. “See you tonight, yeah?” you murmur, smirk on your lips at the look of everyone’s faces before casually strolling off.
Nobody questioned his relationship with you again.
satoru gojo would definitely be the type of boyfriend who motorboats you any chance he gets.
you're innocently walking around the house in a low cut shirt, cleavage spilling out and bouncing softly as you walk — it was practically calling out to him like a bat signal.
a bat signal for sluts.
he'd bury his face in between your soft mounds, his large hands splayed on either side to push your pillowy tits into his face even more— who needs air anyway?
certainly not satoru gojo, not when he's shaking his head back and forth in between the valley of your breasts, like a rabid dog playing with a chew toy.
"brrrrrrrrbrbrrrbrbrrrrr"
his lips flapped as spit settled in between your jiggling tits, he's practically foaming at the mouth — and this lasted for at least 30 straight seconds before raising his head with a tit-drunken smile on his face, pupils slightly blown out and clouding his eyes.
"ah, my favorite past time." he'd say causally before slapping the side of your tit before going about his day.
you're left with one thought racking through your brain.
"yup... my boyfriend is a pervert."
but he's your favorite perveted slut <3
comments and reblogs appreciated! ♡
repost from my old account sytorusdoll
In which August can't eat a pussy without talking your ear off.
MDI, NSFW content, f!reader, cunnilingus, oral (f receiving), dirty talking(?), august talks A LOT || This thing was sitting in my drafts for 2 months lol *throws some glitter at your face cuz it's sounds funny af in my head*
the room smelled like rust, old motor oil, and the faint tang of whatever chemical august had been messing with earlier.
you’d barely kicked the door shut behind you before he was on you—grinning like he’d just found the last clean food in the slums, hands already shoving you in the bed, pulling your t-shirt up and yanking your pants down with zero ceremony.
“missed this pussy like it owes me money,” he announces the second he sees your pretty cunt. laying comfortably. way too comfortably for a guy who’s supposed to be “working” .
you grab a fistful of that messy blonde hair and pull his face where you actually want it.
“august. shut up.”
he doesn’t.
“ohhh fuck yes—look at her, already so wet she’s glistening like she got varnished—did you walk around all day thinking about my tongue or what?” his words vibrate right against your clit and you swear the whole room rattles.
you try to smother him with your thighs. he just moans like it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him.
“mmf—choke me with these thighs, babe, i’m begging—wait no, actually keep ‘em open i wanna see everything—fuck, she’s pulsing, you’re pulsing, holy shit—”
“august.”
“—bet i could make you squirt just by talking dirty to your clit, huh? look at that little thing jump every time i breathe on it—”
you finally lose patience, swinging one leg over his shoulder to switch positions—now he's on his back and you're dropping your full weight on his face.
his mouth sealed to your hole and his surprised “hnngh?!” muffled straight into your cunt.
for maybe six glorious seconds he’s quiet.
then—
the vibrations start.
he’s humming. full-on vibrating like a busted engine, tongue lapping broad and filthy while he makes these obscene, happy little noises that sound suspiciously like he’s trying to sing through your folds.
you grind down harder, partly to shut him up, partly because the pressure of his nose against your clit is stupidly good.
he still won’t stop talking.
or…attempting to.
“—s’good—fuckin’—mmph—drownin’ me—yesyesyes—use my face like a chair—fuck i love when you get mean—gonna cum on my tongue? gonna soak my stupid mouth? c’mon c’mon c’mon—”
every word is garbled, spit-soaked, desperate. he’s practically gargling you and still managing to run his mouth.
you can’t help it—you laugh. breathless, shaky, half-moan-half-cackle.
“you’re literally the worst,” you gasp, rolling your hips in a slow, mean circle. “can’t even eat pussy quietly for thirty seconds.”
he pulls back just enough to speak—chin dripping, eyes glassy and manic.
“quiet’s boring,” he pants. “and your pussy likes when i’m loud. listen—” he drags his tongue flat from your entrance to your clit in one long, obnoxious slurp. “she’s crying for me. telling me to keep talking.”
you shove him back in by the hair—hard.
“less talking. more sucking.”
“make me,” he mumbles into you, already grinning against your slick.
so you do.
you ride his face like it personally offended you—smearing yourself across his nose, his cheeks, his chin—until his hands claw at your ass and thighs like he’s scared you’ll actually stop. the muffled stream of filth keeps coming, wordless now, just desperate moans and greedy slurps and the occasional “fuck—yes—more—gimme—” whenever you lift up enough for him to breathe.
when you finally come it’s loud—louder than him, which feels like a small victory—and he drinks it down like he’s dying of thirst, tongue still flicking even after you start twitching from overstimulation.
you lift off, legs shaky.
he’s a mess. hair wrecked, face shiny from the nose down, lips swollen, pupils blown so wide he looks drugged. and he’s still grinning.
“so…” he rasps, licking his lips like he’s savoring the last drop. “round two? or you gonna sit on my face again and pretend you hate how much i talk?”
you drop back down—harder this time.
“shut. up.”
he doesn’t.
but honestly? you wouldn’t want him to.
Hope you liked it.LIKES AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!
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