┆﹒🖤﹒┆ Kakucho:
┆﹒🖤﹒┆ Kurokawa Izana:
┆﹒🖤﹒┆ Haitani Brothers:
a lil fun🫀🪽 ⫶
↳ Ran: ran can't help but come for more🫀🪽 ⫶
↳ Rindou: rin caught u riding him🫀🪽 ⫶
┆﹒🖤﹒┆ Madarame Shion:┆﹒🖤﹒┆ Mochizuki Kanji: mochi being
gentle w u⫶
┆﹒🖤﹒┆ Mutou Yasuhiro:
┆﹒🖤﹒┆ Sanzu Haruchiyo: patient sanzu obsessed w u🫀 ⫶
┆﹒🖤﹒┆ Hanma Shuji:
shuji trying to make his big sis squirt🪽 ⫶ shuji finally gets u🫀🪽 ⫶
┆﹒🖤﹒┆ South Terano: hot bike sex🫀🪽 ⫶
ꨄ︎ Word Count: 1,200+ words
ꨄ︎ Content Warning: INCEST smut, dubcon (sex while rin and ran are asleep/intoxicated), virgin reader, oral sex(male receiving), vaginal penetrationꨄ︎ Synopsis: After her birthday party, everyone had too much alcohol, except her. She suddenly gets the idea to ride her brother's cock as her first. And ever since then, she kept coming back to ride him until one day, she got caught.
previous smut: P2 Obsessed Patient! Sanzu Haruchiyo x F Patient! Reader♡
next smut: ♡
You had always been the quiet one in the family, the little sister who blended into the background while her older brothers, Rindou and Ran, commanded attention with their rough edges and easy charisma. But at night, when the house fell silent, and the world outside their home faded away, you shed that facade. You craved something raw, something that your pathetic little toy could never deliver, to fill you up, to stretch your tight pussy until you trembled.
It started on your eighteenth birthday. The party had been a blur of laughter, cake, and too much alcohol for everyone but you. Rindou, your big brother with his messy hair and pretty grin, had passed out on the couch downstairs, his body sprawled like he owned the place. You slipped down the stairs in your thin nightshirt, your heart pounding as you approached him. His jeans were unbuttoned, and when you tugged them down just enough, his thick cock flopped out, heavy even in sleep, veined and girthy.
You stared at it, your breath catching, flustered. Your fingers wrapped around the base, feeling it twitch and harden under your touch. You climbed onto the couch, straddling his hips, your panties shoved aside. You lowered yourself slowly, the fat head of his dick pressing against your slick folds. It hurt at first, god, it burned as you sank down, your walls stretching around his thickness. A sharp sting made you gasp, and you felt the warm trickle of blood mixing with your arousal.
But the pain melted into something electric, your pussy clenching greedily as you took more of him, inch by inch. You rode him tentatively at first, your small tits bouncing under your shirt, biting your lip to stifle moans. Rindou didn't stir, his snores steady, oblivious as you ground your clit against his base, chasing your first orgasm on your brother's cock. When you came, it was messy, your juices soaking his shaft, a faint red smear on his skin. Panicking, you dismounted, wiped him clean with a tissue from the table, and pulled his jeans back up. No one ever knew.
That night unlocked something insatiable in you. Whenever Rindou crashed hard after a night of drinking, sprawled in his bed or on the living room floor, you would sneak in. You'd peel back the covers, free his cock from his boxers, and mount him like it was your right. His dick was perfect for you: thick enough to stuff you full, hard even in his drunken stupor, letting you bounce and grind until your thighs quaked. You'd cum hard, your pussy milking him dry without him waking, then clean up the evidence, licking any stray drops from his skin if you had to, tucking him away like nothing had happened. It was your dirty secret, better than any toy.
But Ran was different. Your other big brother, with his handsome features and that cocky smirk, had a dick that was a monster, long, curving just enough to hit spots that made you see stars. You tried riding him once, late one night when he'd nodded off in the guest room after a fight with friends. His length speared into you, bottoming out too deep, making you wince as you tried to adjust. You could only take half before it felt like he'd split you open, so you rocked shallowly, your hands on his chest for balance. It was intense, your walls fluttering around his girth, but the ache kept you from going all out. You finished quickly, shuddering through a climax that left you sore, and slipped away before he stirred. You didn't risk it often. Rindou's thickness was easier, more reliable for your midnight fixes.
But one night changed everything.
It was a humid summer evening, the kind where the air clung to your skin. Rindou had come home wasted from a bar crawl with Ran, both brothers stumbling through the door around 2 a.m. You waited in your room, ears straining for the sounds of them collapsing. Sure enough, Rindou ended up in his bed, shirt off, pants barely kicked to the floor, his breathing deep and ragged from the booze.
You crept into his room, the door creaking softly behind you. Moonlight filtered through the blinds, casting shadows over his toned chest and the bulge in his boxers. Your pussy throbbed, already wet from anticipation. You knelt beside the bed, tugging his boxers down to free him. His cock sprang up, thick and heavy, already half-hard from whatever dreams plagued his drunken sleep. You stroked it firmly, watching it swell in your grip, the veins pulsing under your fingers. Leaning in, you dragged your tongue along the underside, tasting the salty skin before swirling around the head. A low groan escaped him, but his eyes stayed shut.
Emboldened, you stripped off your shorts and tank top, your perky tits free in the cool air, nipples hard as pebbles. You climbed onto the bed, swinging a leg over his hips. Positioning yourself, you rubbed his cockhead against your dripping slit, coating him in your arousal. Then you sank down, inch by thick inch, your pussy stretching wide to accommodate him. "Fuck, yes," you whispered to yourself, starting to rock your hips. The fullness was addictive, his girth rubbing every ridge inside you, your clit grinding against his pubic bone with each thrust downward.
You picked up speed, your ass slapping lightly against his thighs, breath coming in short pants. Rindou's hands twitched at his sides, but he was out cold, or so you thought. The deeper you went, rolling your hips in circles, chasing that building pressure in your core. Your juices slicked his balls, the wet sounds filling the room obscenely. You were close, so close, when suddenly-
His eyes snapped open.
You froze, impaled on his cock, your heart slamming against your ribs. Rindou's gaze locked onto yours, hazy from alcohol but sharpening with shock. "What the- you?" His voice was rough, gravelly, hands flying to your waist to grip you there, fingers digging into your soft skin.
You tried to bolt, but he held you down, his hips bucking up instinctively, driving his dick deeper into your clenching pussy. "Bro, I- shit, let me go!" you stammered, but your body betrayed you, walls fluttering around him as the surprise tipped you over the edge. You came hard, a strangled cry escaping your lips, your nails scratching his chest.
Rindou's confusion twisted into something darker, hungrier. He didn't let go; instead, he flipped you two over in one swift move, pinning you beneath him on the bed. His cock never left you, thrusting deep now that he was awake and raging hard. "You've been doing this? Sneaking in here, using my dick like your personal fucktoy?" He growled, pounding into you with forceful strokes, the bed creaking under them.
You moaned, legs wrapping around his waist despite yourself. "Y-yes... it felt so good... your cock's so thick, I couldn't stop…"
He fucked you harder, one hand clamping over your mouth to muffle your cries, the other pinching your nipple roughly. "Dirty little sister. Bet you've been creaming all over me for months, huh?" His thrusts grew erratic, balls slapping your ass, until he buried himself to the hilt and came, flooding your pussy with hot spurts of cum.
You two lay there panting, his weight pressing you into the mattress. Rindou pulled out slowly, watching his seed leak from your swollen folds. "This isn't over," he murmured, a smirk playing on his lips. "Next time, you won't have to wait for me to pass out."
- Obsessed Patient! Sanzu Haruchiyo x F Patient! Reader ♡
ꨄ︎ Word Count: 1,000 + words
ꨄ︎ Content Warning: Non-con, sexual content, coercion, degradation and humiliation, rough sex, oral sex(f receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie, anal and vaginal penetration.
ꨄ︎ Synopsis: A continuation of Part 1. After Bonten’s collapse, Sanzu is locked away in a psychiatric hospital to be “fixed.” When he notices the quiet girl in the room next to his, proximity turns into fixation, finding a new thing to cling to. What the staff call progress slowly curdles into something dangerous, possessive, and irreversible, and no one notices until it’s already too late.
previous smut: Stalker! Toman Hanma x Reader ♡next smut: Haitani Rindou x Sister Reader ♡
Sanzu's cock slammed deep into her slick pussy, the blind spot behind the storage closet in the dimly lit hospital corridor swallowing their grunts and the wet slap of skin on skin. He'd dragged her here after lights out, his hand clamped over her mouth as he pinned her against the cold wall, her thin shirt hiked up around her waist. "Shh, baby, you're mine now," he growled into her ear, his hips snapping forward relentlessly, burying himself to the hilt with each brutal thrust. Her body jolted, walls clenching around his thick shaft as he fucked her raw, no mercy in his frenzied pace.
She whimpered against his palm, tears streaming down her cheeks, but he only laughed lowly, his free hand digging into her hip hard enough to bruise. "That's it, cry for me, you little slut. Your pussy's weeping for my cock, isn't it? So tight, so fucking perfect, gripping me like you were made for this." He pulled back almost all the way, the head of his dick teasing her entrance before ramming in again, splitting her open. Her sobs muffled into his skin, nails scraping desperately at his arms as she tried to push him away, but he was unyielding, delusional fire in his eyes. "No one's taking you from me. I'll fuck you forever, fill you until you're swollen with my babies..."
Mid-thrust, he froze, his cock throbbing halfway inside her, stretching her but denying the full invasion she both hated and craved in her broken haze. She gasped, body trembling, and he smirked, releasing her mouth to grab her chin roughly. "Not yet, whore. You ride me now. Show me how much you need this dick." He yanked her down to the floor, the rough tiles biting into her knees as he sat back against the wall, his erection slick and veined, pointing up like a weapon. "Climb on, bitch. Take every inch or I'll make you regret it."
Her vision blurred with tears, chest heaving with sobs as she straddled him, her pussy hovering over his tip. "P-please, Sanzu, no more... it hurts," she cried, but he slapped her thigh sharply, eyes wild with possession. "Liar. Your cunt's dripping down my balls. You're a filthy cumslut for me, aren't you? My perfect, broken doll. Now sit on it." Sniffling, she lowered herself, inch by agonizing inch, his girth forcing her walls apart until she bottomed out, a wail escaping her lips. "Oh god, it's too big..."
"Fuck yes, it is," he groaned, hands clamping on her ass to guide her up and down. "Bounce on that cock, baby." She rocked hesitantly at first, tears splashing onto his chest as she rose and fell, her breasts jiggling with each motion. Her nails raked down his pecs, leaving red trails that only made him thrust up harder, meeting her halfway.
"I-I hate you," she sobbed, grinding down faster despite herself, the friction igniting sparks in her core. But he just chuckled, delusional gleam in his gaze as he pinched her nipples, twisting until she yelped. "Bullshit. You love it. Look at you, sobbing and riding me like a pro. Such a good slut, taking it so deep." He bucked wildly, forcing her to bounce harder, her pussy squelching around him. Her cries grew louder, body shaking as an unwanted orgasm built, and she clawed at his shoulders, drawing blood. "Stop, please..."
"Cum for me, then," he hissed, flipping her onto her back mid-ride without pulling out, pinning her legs wide. "Round two, love. I'll fuck the tears right out of you." He grinned, he pounded into her now, cock pistoning like crazy, balls slapping her ass with every drive. "You're so wet- I'll promise you the world, baby: escape this place together, fuck in every corner until you're screaming my name..." Her sobs turned to hiccuping moans, nails tearing at his back as she came undone, walls fluttering around him. "Nooo, Sanzu!"
He didn't stop, chasing his own release with feral grunts. "Cum on my dick, you worthless bitch- yes, just like that. Tighten up, come on, come on, come on-" Hot spurts flooded her as he roared, pumping rope after rope deep inside her, but even as he softened slightly, he kept grinding, stirring his cum into her folds.
"Not done yet. Round three, your ass this time, to seal the deal. Yeah?" He chuckled, kissing her cheek. She wailed, thrashing weakly, but he flipped her onto her stomach, spreading her cheeks. "Shh, it'll hurt so good. You're my everything. And you know what? I wanna love you like this every day. Now take it."
His tip pressed against her tight rear entrance, slick with their mixed fluids, and he pushed in slowly at first, then rammed home. She screamed into the floor, body convulsing, scratches blooming across his arms from her flailing. "It burns! Stop, you monster!"
"Monster? I'm your savior, slut," he panted, starting a punishing rhythm, hand fisting her hair to arch her back. "Your ass is so goood. Ride the pain, baby- I'll make it pleasure. Promise we'll run away, fuck under the stars, no more walls between us." He promised, with lust in his eyes.
Tears soaked the tiles as he railed her, kissing her head, neck-wherever he could reach, alternating slaps to her ass with tender kisses to her neck. "You're perfect, even when you cry. My little angel, just for me." Her sobs mingled with gasps, another climax ripping through her from the brutal fullness, and she scratched his thighs raw, marking her tormentor.
Sanzu laughed maniacally, pulling out to flip her again, shoving back into her pussy for round four. "One more, one more, love, okay? Fill you up again... I can't live without this." He rasped, fucked her missionary now, legs over his shoulders, folding her in half as he hammered deep. Words spilled from him like madness: "You're my whore, my queen, take my cum, take me- please, please, please-" She sobbed endlessly, nails carving lines down his chest, blood mixing with sweat. "Why... why me?"
"Because you're mine," he whispered deliriously, thrusting erratically as he neared the edge. "I'll promise forever, confess my soul's yours. Cum with me-" They shattered together, her walls milking him dry, his seed overflowing as he collapsed atop her, still murmuring praises and degradations.
The days blurred into a haze of stolen moments, Sanzu's obsession weaving tighter around her like invisible chains in the sterile hospital confines. That first encounter had cracked something open, and now he hunted her routines with precision, pulling her into anywhere, empty therapy rooms or the dim laundry chute area when the night shift dragged. No escape, no reprieve, his delusions painted them as lovers in a forbidden romance, her tears just the spice to his madness.
One afternoon, after she'd been "good" in group session, sitting quietly, eyes downcast as per his whispered instructions during a hallway brush-by, he cornered her in the supply closet, the door barely latched. "You've earned this, my sweet girl," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead, his voice with a velvet rasp as he lifted her onto a stack of folded linens, spreading her legs wide. His mouth descended first, tongue lapping at her folds with slow, deliberate strokes, savoring her reluctant shudders. "Taste so fucking goood. Spread wider for me, baby, let me worship this pretty pussy." She bit her lip, hands fisting the sheets, a soft whine escaping as he sucked her clit between his lips, flicking it relentlessly until her hips bucked. "S-Sanzu… too much," she gasped, but he only hummed against her, vibrations sending jolts through her core. He ate her out like a starving man, tongue plunging deep, nose buried in her curls, until she came with a muffled cry, thighs clamping his head. Only then did he rise, shedding his pants to slide into her pretty heat, slow and deep. "Gentle today, baby. You deserve it." He rocked steadily, praises spilling as he kissed her tears away, building her to another peak with tender thrusts that contrasted his usual frenzy.
The next evening, after she'd flinched away from his touch during courtyard time, earning a nurse's oblivious glance, his eyes darkened with that unhinged look. He dragged her to the stairwell, bending her over the railing, pants ripped down to expose her ass. "Bad girl, thinking you can deny me," he snarled, spitting on his fingers to probe her rear before shoving his thick cock in without preamble. She yelped, gripping the cold metal, body jolting with each savage pound. "Take it rough, you teasing slut." Tears streamed as he railed her, one hand yanking her hair to arch her back, the other slapping her cheeks red.
Her sobs choked out pleas, nails scraping the rail, but her walls clenched around him, betraying her. He came with a groan against her skin, flooding her depths, then flipped her to face him, forcing her legs around his waist for a standing fuck against the wall. "Round two, whore. Bounce on it." She rode him through the pain, scratching his neck in desperation, until exhaustion claimed her climax.
Some days, he played the benevolent captor, letting her choose in the quiet hours before meds rounded. In the abandoned rec room, cushions scattered like forgotten comforts, he'd lounge against the wall, cock out and hard. "Pick your poison, love. How do you want me today?" She'd hesitate, cheeks flushed, whispering, "O-oral… please, just that." His grin was wolfish as he knelt between her thighs on the worn carpet, but true to his word, he devoted himself to her pleasure. Lips parting her slick lips, he licked broad and flat, then delved with pointed thrusts, humming praises.
He'd alternate suction on her nub with fingers curling inside, hitting that spot until she writhed, choosing to grind against his face. "Yes, ride my mouth, good girl. I'll eat this pussy forever, promise." Her orgasm washed over her in waves, no penetration, just his relentless mouth drawing out every quiver, leaving her boneless and sobbing in confused relief.
Other times, choice meant positions that tested her limits. One midnight, in the linen storage, she murmured, "On top… I want to control it." He laughed softly, lying back on the piled fabrics, guiding her to straddle him in reverse cowgirl. "Control? Cute. But I'll thrust up if you slack." She sank down, his shaft stretching her pussy wide, rocking at her pace, slow grinds that made him groan. "Fuck, look at that ass swallowing me. You're a natural, my perfect rider." When his mood soured mid-way, gentleness went away; he gripped her hips, slamming her down hard, turning it rough. "Not enough, bitch, take it all, feel me bruise your insides." Scratches bloomed on his thighs from her flailing, tears dripping as she bounced through the shift.
Days of pure oral became his favorite tease, especially after rough nights. He'd pin her to the therapy couch post-session, head between her legs, devouring her with fervor. "No cock today, just my tongue fucking you senseless. Spread those thighs, let me lap up your pussy, pretty." He'd tease her entrance, then suckle her clit until stars burst behind her eyes, fingers joining to scissor her open. "Cum on my face baby," She'd sob through releases, body arching, while he murmured delusions of eternity, never pushing further, building her dependence on his skilled mouth.
The days continued, rough doggy in the vents' shadow, her bent double, ass high as he pounded with slaps and degradations: "Tighten up." Gentle spooning in a forgotten bed, his cock sliding lazy into her from behind, whispers of love amid praises. Choices varied: her opting for wall-supported splits, legs hooked over his arms as he thrust upward; or him deciding on 69, her mouth forced around his dick while he feasted below.
Playing Next...
↻ ◁ | Haitani Rindou x Sister Reader SMUT | ▷ ↺
ꨄ︎ Word Count: 2,600+ words
ꨄ︎ Content Warning: smut, stalking, dubcon elements, biting, rough sex
ꨄ︎ Synopsis: Hanma develops an intense obsession with someone to the point of stalking her and observing her until he corners her.
previous smut: Obsessed Patient! Sanzu Haruchiyo x F!Patient! Reader 1 ♡
next smut: Obsessed Patient! Sanzu Haruchiyo x F!Patient! Reader 2 ♡
You noticed him before you even noticed him. Which is to saym, you didn’t. At first, he was just there, part of the noise you usually filtered out: the graffiti peeling off the walls, the hum of the neon sign over the corner store, the faint stench of garbage and rain-damp asphalt. And then, slowly, over a week or two, you started noticing the same shadow leaning against the same fence, same hands tucked into pockets, same cigarette.
He didn’t move like someone who wanted to hurt you. Not exactly. He moved like someone who wanted to see how long it would take for you to notice him. That grin, sharp and lazy, wasn’t for anyone else; it was for you, for the moment when your eyes might flick up and finally meet his.
It became a rhythm. The bus stop. The park corner. The stairwell smelled faintly of mildew. You never thought much of it, at first. City life meant people were weird, people were loud, people were there. But slowly, the coincidences started stacking. You began to feel his presence before you even saw him, like the air shifted slightly when he was near. And you didn’t flinch. You didn’t speed up. You didn’t look over your shoulder.
And that, oh, that made him grin.
Hanma wasn’t subtle. Not really. But he wasn’t reckless either. He watched quietly, timing your coffee runs, noting the way you smoothed your hair back when nobody was looking, memorizing the way your fingers traced the seam of your sleeve when you were nervous. It wasn’t stalking. Not yet. It was… cataloging. Patterns. Predictability. And you were a puzzle he didn’t want to solve too fast.
One evening, he got careless. He was too close in the park, hidden in the shadow of a tree, cigarette dangling lazily from his fingers. Your head flicked up, and you saw him, just for a moment. Heart did a little lurch, but you didn’t bolt. You didn’t panic. You kept walking, pretending he was nothing, even though your stomach had flipped.
He froze too, hidden in the darkness, and that flicker, almost panic, almost thrill, made him want to chase, to push the boundary just a little further. But he didn’t. Not yet. Because that tension, that near-miss, was sweeter than getting caught.
Kisaki noticed. Of course, he noticed. One quiet conversation, leaning back in his chair like he owned the world, that smile that never quite reached his eyes: “Some of them are… interesting. Pay attention. Could be useful.” Hanma didn’t need convincing. He already knew. You were worth it.
So he kept watching. Quietly. From across the street, from behind a corner, shadowed just enough to blend in. Cigarette smoke curling into the night, footsteps matching your cadence from far enough away to be a coincidence. You never saw him. You never knew. And that was perfect.
Every time you blinked and kept walking, he felt something tighten inside his chest, something that wasn’t exactly violence, wasn’t exactly adrenaline. It was something sharper. Something human. You were familiar and foreign all at once. And he wanted that feeling over and over, without letting you see how badly it had already taken hold.
By the time he finally leaned against the fence across from you, close enough that you could smell the faint tang of smoke and sweat, it wasn’t a plan anymore. It wasn’t surveillance. It was inevitable. And you… didn’t run.
"You always come out here this late?" he asked.
You shrugged, flicking ash toward the curb. "Quieter."
"Yeah," he said, as he agreed with something deeper than that. "Yeah, thought so."
There was a stretch of silence that didn’t feel awkward. Just… held. You could feel him looking at you now, openly, like he’d decided pretending not to was pointless. Not hungry. Not threatening. Just curious in that invasive way that makes you aware of your own skin.
He pushed off the fence, closing the distance, not too close. Careful.
"Mind?" He nodded at your cigarette.
You hesitated, then handed it over.
He took it between his fingers, slow, deliberate. Didn’t rush the inhale. When he exhaled, the smoke drifted sideways, curling between you as it belonged there. He passed it back. His fingers brushed yours, light enough that you could pretend it didn’t happen.
You didn’t pull away.
His grin widened, sharp and pleased, like he’d just confirmed a theory. "You don't act like most people," he said.
“Should I?” you asked.
He laughed, short, real. "Nah, guess that'd ruin it,"
The first night was almost ordinary. He asked if you always came out this late, voice casual, like he was commenting on the weather. You shrugged, said it was quieter. He agreed in that absent way, like he already knew the answer. He asked for your cigarette, didn’t crowd you when he stepped closer, and didn’t rush the inhale.
When his fingers brushed yours, handing it back, it was light enough to deny. You didn’t move away. He smiled as he’d just confirmed something important. Said you didn’t act like most people. You asked if you should. He laughed, short and genuine, and said no, that it would ruin it. You almost asked what “it” was, but he didn’t give you the chance.
After that, he started appearing. Not dramatically. Just often. Same corner, same bus stop, same stretch of sidewalk at the same time of night.
He never announced himself. You’d just look up, and he’d be there, leaning like he belonged, like he’d always been part of the background and you were only just now noticing.
Sometimes he spoke first. Sometimes he didn’t. Silence didn’t seem to bother him. It didn’t bother you either, which he clocked quickly. He paid attention to small things, how early you flicked ash, how long you stayed before heading home, and which direction you turned without thinking. When he commented on it, it sounded observational, not accusatory. Like he was impressed by the consistency.
Names came later. Yours first. He repeated it once, quieter than necessary, then offered his in return if it was optional information. You didn’t ask what he did or where he went when he wasn’t here. He didn’t ask either, but he learned anyway.
You started noticing that he’d time himself to match you, walking beside you for half a block, stopping when you stopped, lingering when you lingered. If you changed your route, he didn’t comment on it. He just adapted. You told yourself it was a coincidence until it stopped feeling like one.
By the end of the week, other people noticed him before you did. A neighbor asked who he was. A cashier looked between the two of you like they were trying to place something off. Hanma never interrupted. He watched those moments with visible interest, like he was waiting to see what you’d say.
When you called him a friend, even loosely, his smile sharpened in a way that lingered too long afterward. He started standing closer then. Not touching. Never crossing a line that could be pointed out. Just close enough that you were aware of his presence even when you weren’t looking at him.
It wasn’t until later, alone, replaying the days back, that it settled in. He hadn’t inserted himself into your life suddenly. He’d studied it first. Learned the rhythm. Learned when to appear without startling you. Learned how much space you tolerated, how little reaction you gave, how calm you stayed.
When you finally said, half-joking, that he was always around, he didn’t deny it. He smiled, soft and pleased, and said Yeah, like it was something you were supposed to notice eventually.
And that was when it stopped feeling accidental.
You'd felt his eyes on you for weeks now. Hanma Shuji, that towering freak with the tattoos crawling up his hands like veins of ink. He wasn't subtle about it anymore, not after all the "coincidences" that lined up your paths: the same bus stop at dusk, the shadowed corner of the park where you'd grab a late smoke, even the quiet stairwell in your rundown apartment block.
You never flinched, never sped up your steps or glanced over your shoulder with that wide-eyed panic he probably craved from everyone else. No, you just kept moving, like he was part of the scenery. And deep down, yeah, you kinda dug it, the way his presence coiled around your days, turning the ordinary into something electric.
Tonight, though, the game shifted. You'd ducked behind the store after grabbing a pack of smokes, the air thick with the stench of rotting trash and distant rain. Footsteps echoed, unhurried, and there he was, leaning against the chain-link fence like he'd been waiting his whole damn life for this exact moment. His grin split wide, those sharp teeth flashing under the dim bulb overhead, and a low giggle bubbled out of him, the kind that scraped like broken glass.
"Y'know, you've got this habit of showin' up right when I need a break from the boredom," he drawled, voice lazy but edged with that smug bite, pushing off the fence with a roll of his shoulders. He sauntered closer, hands shoved in his pockets, but his eyes, fuck, those eyes, pinned you like a bug on a board. "Or is it the other way around? You waitin' for me to crash your little routine?"
You didn't back up. Why would you? The wall pressed cool against your back, the space between you shrinking as he closed in, his height blocking out the faint streetlight. You'd seen him like this before, raw and unmasked, not the chaotic guy terrorizing Toman's rivals but the guy who paced alone in empty lots, fists clenched like he was fighting someone else. Kisaki had mentioned you once, back when Hanma was tailing leads, called you "useful," whatever the hell that meant.
But Hanma stuck around after the job was done, his watches turning from strategy to something hungrier. You were the one thing that didn't make him itch for a fight, the calm in his storm, and it pissed him off as much as it pulled him in.
He stopped inches away, close enough that you caught the faint tang of smoke and blood on him, probably from whatever brawl he'd just walked away from. His hand shot out, not grabbing, just planting flat against the wall beside your head, caging you without the illusion of choice. That giggle again, softer this time, almost a purr. "You don't run. Don't scream. Hell, you don't even looked surprised. What's your deal, huh? You like this? Me breathin' down your neck, knowin' every step you take?"
Your pulse kicked up, but not from fear, from the thrill of it finally snapping into place. You'd played oblivious, letting him shadow you through the city's veins, memorizing your coffee runs and late-night walks home. Now, here, in this forgotten sliver of urban decay, you met his gaze steadily. "Maybe I do," you said, voice even, a smirk tugging at your lips. "You've been slinking around long enough. Figured you'd make a move eventually."
His eyes widened a fraction, that smug mask cracking just enough to show the flicker of surprise, and something darker, hungrier. He leaned in closer, breath hot against your ear, his free hand trailing up your arm, fingers digging in with a cruel pinch that sent sparks racing. "Oh yeah? Bold little shit. Thought I'd drag this shit out, make you squirm first." Another laugh, sharp and mean, as he pressed his body flush against yours, the hard line of his cock already straining through his pants, grinding slowly and deliberately into your hip. "But if you're givin' me the green light... let's see how long that tough act lasts."
He didn't wait for more words; his mouth crashed down on yours, teeth clashing in a bruising kiss that tasted like violence and want. His tongue shoved past your lips, claiming every inch, while his hand yanked at your shirt, shoving it up to expose skin to the cool night air. Fingers raked down your chest, nails scraping hard enough to leave red trails, and he broke the kiss with a wet pop, giggling low as he nipped at your jaw. "Fuck, you're good. Makes me wanna break you just to watch the pieces scatter ♡ "
You grabbed his wrist, not to stop him but to pull him closer, your other hand fisting in his hair as you bit back at his neck, drawing a hiss from him. He growled, shoving your pants down with rough jerks, his palm cupping your ass and squeezing hard, lifting you just enough to grind his erection against your core. No hesitation, he freed his cock, thick and throbbing, veins pulsing under your touch as you wrapped a hand around it, stroking him firmly while he panted against your throat.
"Shit- yeah, like that," he muttered, voice cracking on the edge of a laugh, but his hips bucked erratically now, losing that smug rhythm. He spun you around, pressing your chest to the rough brick wall, the scrape biting into your skin as he kicked your legs apart. Spit-slick fingers probed between your thighs, circling your entrance before pushing in deep, two at once, twisting cruelly to stretch you, his thumb pressing down on your clit with mean flicks. "Tight as hell. Been dreamin' about this, y'know? Watchin' you walk away every night, wonderin' how you'd feel clenchin' around me..."
You arched back, pushing onto his fingers, the burn mixing with heat that pooled low. He added a third, pumping fast and unforgiving, his free hand pinning your wrist above your head while he rutted against your thigh, pre-cum smearing sticky trails. That giggle turned ragged, his breath hitching as he withdrew his fingers, replacing them with the blunt head of his cock. He thrust in hard, no prep, burying to the hilt in one brutal snap of his hips.
"Fuck-" he choked out, the word half-laugh, half-moan, as your walls clenched around him. He didn't move at first, just ground deep, his forehead dropping to your shoulder while his body shook. Unpredictable as ever, he pulled back slow, then slammed in again, setting a pace that was all cruelty, short, punishing jabs that made your knees buckle. His hand snaked around, jerking you off in rough strokes, matching the slap of skin on skin. "You feel that? We're gonna have a lot of fun~"
But inside, he was unraveling. His thrusts grew sloppy, hips stuttering as he chased the high, that smug facade shattering with every grunt. He bit down on your shoulder, hard enough to break skin, licking the copper tang while his cock throbbed inside you, swelling thicker."Can't- fuckin' hold it-" he gasped, voice breaking into a whine that wasn't like him at all, vulnerable and raw. His hand sped up, twisting at the tip, forcing you over the edge first, your body seizing, clenching down on him like a vice.
He followed with a shattered laugh, burying deep as he came, hot spurts flooding you, his whole frame locking up while he rode it out with erratic bucks. Pulses aftershocks wracked him, his grip turning almost tender as he slumped against your back, breath ragged. "Heh... didn't think you'd get under my skin like this," he murmured, pressing a sloppy kiss to your neck, the cruelty ebbing into something possessive, broken open. The city hummed on around you, but in that moment, the world narrowed to just this, him, you, and the claim he'd finally sunk his teeth into.
Playing Next...
↻ ◁ | Obsessed Patient! Sanzu Haruchiyo x F!Patient Reader SMUT | ▷ ↺
I have a idea that I need to share with you. Imagine Sanzu being in a asylum and geting obsessed with a girl who have a room next to his (Let's say that someone put his crazy ass there so he can heal up and become a little bit more sane) and then he noncon her.
I will leave it there... 👀
⊹₊ Prescription: You [Part 1] [Part 2]
- Obsessed Patient! Sanzu Haruchiyo x F Patient! Reader ♡
ꨄ︎ Word Count: 6,000+ words
ꨄ︎ Content Warning: Non-con, sexual content, obsession, psychiatric hospital, mental illness, trauma, substance abuse, violence, creampie
ꨄ︎ Synopsis: After Bonten’s collapse, Sanzu is locked away in a psychiatric hospital to be “fixed.” When he notices the quiet girl in the room next to his, proximity turns into fixation, finding a new thing to cling to. What the staff call progress slowly curdles into something dangerous, possessive, and irreversible, and no one notices until it’s already too late.
ꨄ︎ Note: part 2 will be more on smut ♡ i cant help but build a lil background
previous smut: South Terano x Little Sister Reader ♡
next smut: Stalker! Toman Hanma x Reader ♡
Obsession was all he had left. First, it had been Mikey. Always Mikey, until he died and left nothing but emptiness. But then, there was her.
Her. Quiet, steady, soft in the spaces he hadn’t even noticed before. He watched her. Not like a predator, not like someone unstable, but like someone who had finally been given something to care for, something to protect. She laughed once, low and shy, and it was enough. Enough to make his chest settle, enough to make the walls behind his eyes stop shaking for a moment.
It was… normal, even healthy. He could imagine mornings with her, hands brushing in passing, leaning close to whisper something no one else would hear. In his mind, she belonged to him, and he belonged to her. They were safe. They were sane.
He reached for her in thought, tracing the lines of her shoulders, the curve of her smile, the quiet tilt of her head when she didn’t know he was looking. It was gentle. It was natural. They were together. Already, they were together, and the world outside didn’t matter. He could feel the rhythm of her days, the small habits she never realized she had, the little sighs that punctuated her breathing, and he thought, Yes. This is it. This is everything.
Then, a door squeaked. A distant voice called out, clipped and impatient. The scrape of shoes on tile. A faint murmur down the hall. His chest skipped. The world intruded, pricking at the edges of his thoughts, reminding him he wasn’t alone.
The walls around him were too white, too still. The air was too clean. The room was small, sterile, and the faint, sickening hum of fluorescent lights pressed against his ears. He blinked, and the illusion of normalcy cracked. The world he had built around her, the quiet sanctuary of obsession, wasn’t a sanctuary at all. He was locked in a hospital. She wasn’t just soft or fragile or safe; she was real. And so was he.
She wasn’t in a quiet house, tucked away somewhere safe. She was across a narrow hall, behind a thin wall, in a place that smelled of antiseptic and despair. The shadows on the ceiling weren’t comforting; they were fluorescent, flickering, stark.
He pressed his hand to his chest, still tasting the sweetness of his thoughts. It didn’t matter. They didn’t understand. They never would. She was his, in the only way that mattered. And the world of this white, humming, suffocating place couldn’t touch that. Not yet.
"…Sanzu Haruchiyo, formerly of Bonten, was apprehended last night after an altercation at a reported stash location. Police say the suspect appeared incoherent and highly violent. Witnesses describe a man muttering, laughing, unpredictable, dangerous…"
He was all over the news across Japan. Headlines screamed of the "Lost Dog" the "Man Who Fell Without Mikey," the "Bonten Survivor Gone Rogue." Rumors spread faster than verified reports. Some claimed he had been seen wandering abandoned factories, smiling to himself in the shadows. Others swore he had been talking to someone, no one knew who, no one claimed to see who, but they reported his voice echoing in empty streets, low, sharp, and unnerving.
Sanzu remembered, he didn’t go underground. He didn’t disappear like the ghosts of his old crew, didn’t retreat into the shadows where he might have survived. He couldn’t. Not after Mikey. Not after the world fell apart and left him orbiting nothing.
So he wandered. Abandoned buildings became his sanctuary. Old hideouts where Mikey once was, the corners where laughter once echoed, the cold slabs where he had trained, fought, bled, and they became altars to a memory he couldn’t let go of. He returned again and again, tracing the paths he had once walked with purpose, now hollow, now only his own.
He often drank to forget and to remember at the same time. Pills, alcohol, whatever he could scavenge as he swallowed them like prayers, as poison and salvation entwined. He laughed at nothing, screamed at the air, called Mikey’s name into walls that would never answer. Nights bled into mornings without distinction. Fists punched brick and wood, metal and glass, leaving scars he barely noticed, leaving his own body aching in rhythms that reminded him he was still alive.
Sometimes he attacked strangers like before. But not for money, not for reputation, not even for anger. He struck because he had to feel something real. After all, the emptiness in his chest was unbearable, because the world without Mikey was a blank canvas he didn’t want to paint, but couldn’t stop himself from splattering.
And always, he returned to the spots that mattered most. The burned corners of old hideouts. The streets where fights had begun. The alley where the last light left Mikey’s face was etched in his mind. He wasn’t running from the police. He wasn’t hiding from reality. He was orbiting a grave, a memory, a pull he could not escape.
Every night ended the same: alone, shaking, heart racing, whispering apologies into the dark. And every morning began the same: rising from a ruin of his own making, teeth grit, eyes wild, and walking back into the chaos because he had nowhere else to go, no one left to anchor him, and he had to keep moving, or he would vanish entirely.
Until one day.
No one expected him to be there. Not really. The building should have been empty, abandoned for months, a forgotten corner of the city. But someone had talked. Someone had spilled where the stash was hidden, and a lower-ranked Bonten member, scared, desperate, was looking to save themselves. The walls had ears, even when he thought they didn’t.
The cops came before dawn. Flashlights stabbed through broken windows. Boots clattered on the concrete floors. He didn’t run. He didn’t hide. Why would he? The world had already ended for him. There was nothing left to lose.
The cops expected a crew. Guns, bodies, resistance. They expected order. They expected a syndicate in full force, calculating, dangerous, but controlled.
Instead, they found Sanzu alone.
Bloodied knuckles. Eyes wide and wild. Hands trembling, clutching a piece of scrap metal like a weapon, like a prayer. Words tumbled from his mouth, incoherent, sharp, Mikey’s name, laughter, curses, promises to a ghost. His chest heaved as if he were both laughing and crying at the same time.
The contrast was staggering. This wasn’t him anymore. This wasn’t a man in command. This wasn’t the one who had once made men follow him without question.
The officers hesitated. One raised a gun. Another tried to speak. He didn’t even look at them. He was already elsewhere, orbiting a grave, but still Mikey, and chasing a memory that had no mercy.
And when the cuffs went on, the whispers began: a "Liability."
Now alone, incoherent, armed, violent, from the world they once ruled, Sanzu was finally contained.
But instead of cuffs, metal bars, or stark isolation, he was contained in ways that were almost invisible. A mental health center.
He was deemed mentally unfit to face trial after his erratic behavior, violent outbursts, and substance-fueled psychosis, so the court sent him here, under involuntary psychiatric detention, under constant watch, but not behind literal bars.
In here, the walls were plain, sterile, humming with fluorescent light, and yet every movement he made was mapped, timed, predicted. Staff shadowed him like quiet ghosts, always nearby but never touching, their presence both protective and constricting.
Doors clicked behind him, locks subtle, almost polite, preventing him from wandering too far but never giving the impression of chains. Meals arrived on carts that clattered too loudly to ignore, marking the rhythm of his day, reminding him that someone always watched.
Objects were stripped down to essentials. Anything sharp, anything that could be thrown or broken, had been removed. His world was clean, sanitized, orderly, all designed to prevent a single act of rebellion.
Nurses said he was cooperative. He followed instructions: he ate his meals when they were brought, took his medication without argument, and walked the hallways exactly when told. He didn’t speak unless necessary and didn’t make noise. Staff recorded that he seemed calm, compliant, and, for the most part, manageable.
And he. He watched the staff closely. Every movement, every glance, every shift in their attention was logged in his mind. He memorized their routines about who walked where, when they paused, which nurse handled which patient, and how long it took them to return from the supply closet. He moved within the hospital’s rules, never breaking routine, but he never stopped noticing everything, observing. He learned the patterns. He memorized the schedules. He calculated where the cracks might be.
The female patients caught his attention more than the others. He didn’t approach them. He didn’t speak. He didn’t reach out. He simply watched from across the hall, from the corners of rooms, noting the sounds they made. From the shuffle of slippers, the quiet breaths, the small, unguarded movements.
The nurses noticed and wrote it down. They flagged him for extra monitoring. They whispered to one another that he was unpredictable, that he could escalate at any time, and that his behavior required observation. He didn’t mind. He moved exactly how he wanted while letting them believe he was contained.
His routine was rigid, controlled by staff. Meals arrived on a strict schedule. Medication was administered according to the charts. Even outdoor time was supervised and timed. Doors were monitored, and hallway transitions were observed. There were no restraints, no handcuffs, no cages, but every corner of his world was carefully managed. Anything dangerous was removed, from sharp objects, glass, breakable items, and anything that could be used to harm himself or anyone else. He was free to move, but only within the lines that had been drawn for him.
On the other hand, other patients were easy to track. He noticed their patterns, their responses to staff, and their weak points. Some he ignored completely. Some he watched closely, observing small habits, noting what made them anxious or comfortable. He moved past them without interaction, but never without observation. Staff saw calm, compliant behavior. He saw openings. He saw structure. He saw weaknesses.
And the doctors noted that his delusions were structured around a lost figure, previously Mikey, and transferred onto available people in his immediate environment. They wrote that he was highly intelligent, manipulative, and intermittently cooperative. What they didn’t see was how actively he cataloged everything around him, the movements, the schedules, the sounds. He obeyed, he followed, but he was always watching, always noting, always planning.
Every day followed the same basic framework, but within it, he built his own map of the hospital. He memorized hallways, the timing of staff movements, the patterns of shifts, and the way the wind rattled windows in certain corners. He learned how to move quietly without attracting attention. He timed how long it took for the elevator doors to open and close, and how far a nurse could walk before noticing a distraction. He could move freely in the spaces they let him, but even in that freedom, he remained contained.
And then there was her. Behind a thin wall next to his.
He didn’t interact with her physically. Not yet. But he memorized her habits, the little pauses, the timing of her meals, the way she adjusted her hair or clothes, even the faint sighs she made when she thought no one was listening. She was the only thing that disrupted the patterns he had cataloged, the only thing that didn’t fit neatly into the hospital’s schedules and rules.
And yet, within those boundaries, he found ways to move, to think, to obsess, to watch.
The courtyard was part of the daily schedule within the institution. Fresh air, new view, a place to clear your head, and staff presence. Patients were lined up, counted, and directed outside in small groups. The benches were bolted to the ground. Fencing high enough to discourage thought, not escape.
And Sanzu followed instructions without comment. He sat where he was told. Did what he was told. His hands were resting loosely on his knees. Back straight. Eyes forward. Nurses noted compliance and moved on.
He observed, looked around, eyes scanning the place, as if waiting for something… and he did.
She was brought out minutes later with another group. His new obsession. She hesitated at the threshold before stepping into the open space. One of the nurses guided her gently by the elbow, speaking softly. She nodded, murmured something too quiet to hear, and took a seat on the opposite bench.
Across from him. Far enough to be acceptable.
He didn’t stare. Not directly. His head stayed forward, posture unchanged. Only his eyes moved, slow and controlled, tracking her presence in his peripheral vision. Staff were nearby, chatting softly, checking clipboards, watching patients who needed watching.
But they didn’t watch him.
Minutes passed. The courtyard filled with small sounds: footsteps, a cough, someone laughing too loudly before being corrected. Sanzu stayed still as she shifted on the bench. Crossed her ankles. Uncrossed them. Her fingers picked at the seam of her sleeve, then stilled when she noticed she was doing it.
He turned his head then. Slowly. Deliberately. No sudden movement to startle her or for staff to notice. Just natural, like this isn’t an asylum they ended up in. "Is this seat taken?" he asked, his voice was quiet. Neutral. Polite.
She looked up then, startled, caught off guard. She glanced at the bench beside him, then at the nurse standing several meters away. The nurse looked over briefly, assessed the situation, and didn’t intervene. "No," she said after a moment, blinking at him. "I don’t think so."
He nodded once, as if acknowledging instructions rather than an answer. He sat, didn’t move closer. Didn’t touch her. He stayed where he was, leaving the distance intact. The space between them remained supervised, measurable, safe.
They sat like that for several minutes. And eventually, she spoke again. “"Do you come out here often?"
"Yes," he said. No hesitation. "It helps."
She nodded. "Yeah. Me too."
That was all. No confessions. No intensity. No visible escalation. And when the session ended, the staff called time and guided patients back inside. Sanzu stood immediately when told. She followed a few seconds later.
A nurse made a note on her clipboard. Saying:
"Patient Haruchiyo engaged in brief, appropriate social interaction. Calm demeanor maintained. No signs of agitation or fixation during supervised exposure."
Another nurse glanced back at him as the doors closed behind the group.
"He did well," she said quietly.
Her colleague nodded. "This is good for him."
No one corrected that assessment…
The next day, routine as usual. But this time, no one intervened when Sanzu sat in the same place.
It was logged as routine behavior. He had followed the schedule correctly the previous day, returned to the ward without incident, and showed no agitation afterward. Staff had no reason to redirect him. The bench he chose was not restricted. He was not violating distance rules. No standing orders were separating him from other patients.
The courtyard session began as it always did. Patients were escorted out in groups, counted, and spread across the space. Nurses remained posted near the exits and along the perimeter, but their attention was divided. The courtyard was designed to be low risk with no loose objects, no blind corners, and no privacy.
The assumption was that supervision alone was enough.
Sanzu sat upright, hands visible, feet planted. He did not look around excessively. He did not fidget. A nurse noted that he appeared settled and moved her attention elsewhere, sensing that he was behaving normally.
But one thing was stuck in his mind ever since. Her.
He started checking for her without realizing he was doing it.
His eyes moved automatically when doors opened. His attention sharpened when footsteps matched her cadence. He listened for her voice in group sessions, for the particular pause before she spoke, for the way she exhaled when she was nervous. These were not conscious efforts. They were reflexive, like muscle memory.
The staff interpreted this as engagement.
They noted that he appeared more alert during communal activities. More present. Less withdrawn. He made eye contact more frequently. He responded when spoken to. He followed directions faster when she was nearby. They documented improvement and adjusted his observation level accordingly.
Reduced supervision felt earned.
But the itch worsened in the spaces where supervision thinned.
When she wasn’t scheduled to attend an activity, he felt off-balance. He corrected it by repositioning himself closer to places she passed through. If she was delayed, he waited. If she didn’t appear at all, his patience frayed, tight and silent. He didn’t act out. He didn’t raise his voice. He simply became sharper, more focused, more intent on restoring what was missing.
He began to think of her emotional state as something fragile that required monitoring. If she seemed tired, he adjusted his behavior to be calmer. If she seemed anxious, he stayed quieter, closer, more present. He believed this made him helpful. Stabilizing. Necessary.
He did not consider the possibility that she had not asked for this.
Just as he was about to think about her more, his thought was interrupted as she arrived several minutes later with a different group. There was no directive keeping her apart from him. And when she scanned the benches, her gaze paused briefly before she sat beside him. He was one of the few people to approach her first. Maybe, she thought, that she can befriend him…
And no one corrected her choice to sit beside him. From a staff perspective, it was voluntary socialization between two compliant patients.
And this was noted later as a positive sign by the nurse, a shared space without pressure or escalation. Staff observed them peripherally while handling other patients who required more active intervention.
When they did speak, the exchange remained appropriate. Short sentences. Neutral tone. No personal disclosures. He did not ask invasive questions. He did not move closer. His posture remained controlled. He made eye contact intermittently, not constantly. On the other hand, she did not pull away or move away from, didn’t stop the small conversation.
From the outside, it looked like a normal interaction between two patients.
The nurse overseeing the courtyard recorded the interaction as "brief peer engagement." No behavioral red flags were noted. There was no reason to end the session early.
This pattern repeated.
Over the next several days, Sanzu consistently chose the same bench. She consistently sat near him. The consistency itself was not considered problematic. In institutional settings, routine is often encouraged. Predictable behavior is read as stabilization.
And so, staff began to expect it.
They stopped monitoring the interaction directly and instead checked in intermittently. Their conversations stayed within acceptable limits. When courtyard time ended, both patients returned inside without resistance. There were no incidents afterward. No elevated agitation. No missed medication. No reports of distress.
Progress, on paper.
Someone used the word "grounding" again.
No one questioned why her presence had that effect.
And by the end of the first week, the staff no longer repositioned patients to maintain distance. They allowed groups to intermix more freely during outdoor time. There was no standing order to keep Sanzu under constant line-of-sight supervision anymore. He had not earned restrictions; he had earned their trust.
This trust extended beyond the courtyard. They did not intervene when he paused near her in the hallway after sessions. They did not redirect him when he matched his walking pace to hers. They did not document the frequency with which their schedules aligned.
There were no incidents to justify concern. And from the staff’s perspective, this was exactly what treatment was supposed to look like: a high-risk patient integrating calmly, forming controlled social connections, responding positively to structure.
So they began to believe that maybe Sanzu is getting better, more sane, grounded. And they did not see obsession, but they saw compliance. They did not see fixation. They saw improvement.
And Sanzu understood, very clearly, what had allowed it to happen. That as long as he stayed within the rules, as long as he remained polite, restrained, cooperative, no one would interfere.
It was well past midnight, the hour when even the most restless patients succumbed to exhaustion or medication. Most people were asleep, well, except for the nurses watching over them, checking them, and a patient, Sanzu.
Sanzu Haruchiyo lay on his narrow bed, the thin mattress creaking under his shifting weight. His room was a sterile box, white walls scarred with faint scratches from previous occupants, a single barred window letting in slivers of moonlight.
She was right there. The quiet girl from the sessions, the one with the soft voice and downcast eyes that made his blood run hot. He'd watched her today, same as always, sitting on that bench under the watchful eyes of the nurses. Her hair had fallen across her face when she nodded at his words, a simple "Yeah, me too" that echoed in his skull like a siren's call.
No one saw the way his fingers twitched, imagining tangling in those strands, yanking her head back to expose her throat. Progress, they called it. Compliance. But Sanzu knew better. This was control. His control, building brick by obsessive brick.
His cock stirred in his loose pants, hardening against the scratchy fabric as his mind wandered. Late nights like this were his ritual now, the only time the medicine in his system dulled enough for the real hunger to surface. He glanced at the door, closed, of course, with the night nurse's rounds not due for another hour. Plenty of time. His hand slipped under the waistband, fingers wrapping around his thickening shaft. It was already leaking, a bead of precum slicking his palm as he gave it a slow, deliberate stroke, thinking of her again, her.
Fuck, she's so close, he thought, eyes fluttering shut. He could almost hear her breathing through the wall, soft and even, oblivious to the pervert in the next room stroking himself to thoughts of breaking her. In his mind, the fantasy was vivid, unrelenting. He'd wait for the perfect moment, maybe during one of those unsupervised transfers between therapy sessions. The corridors were long, dimly lit, with blind spots where the cameras didn't reach. He'd corner her there, one hand clamping over her mouth before she could scream, the other pinning her wrists above her head against the cold tile.
His grip tightened on his cock, pumping faster now, the wet schlick of skin on skin filling the quiet room. He imagined her eyes widening in terror, that pretty face twisting as she realized what was happening. "Shh, doll," he'd whisper, his breath hot against her ear, free hand shoving up her loose gown. No panties, just like the ones he'd thought, easy access. His fingers would find her pussy, dry at first from fear, but he'd rub her clit roughly until she slickened against her will, betraying her body, kiss her more, touch her more, just like he’d always imagined.
Sanzu's hips bucked slightly off the bed, chasing the building pressure. His thumb circled the head of his dick, smearing precum down the length as he pictured forcing her legs apart. She'd struggle, of course. She’d be kicking, twisting, squirming, but he was stronger, always had been. He'd slam her back against the wall hard enough to stun her, then yank his pants down just enough to free his throbbing cock. No prep. He'd thrust into her in one brutal shove, burying himself balls-deep in her tight cunt, feeling her walls clench around him in shock and pain. He can imaginr how warm she'd feel, how tight she'd be around him, like she's been waiting for this.
A low groan escaped his lips at the thought, muffled by the pillow he bit into. His strokes grew erratic, fist flying up and down his shaft, veins bulging under his grip. In the fantasy, she'd whimper against his palm, tears streaming down her cheeks as he fucked her relentlessly. Each pound of his hips would drive him deeper, stretching her pussy around his girth, the slap of his balls against her ass echoing in the room. Maybe they'd get caught, but no, it can't happen. "Mine," he'd growl, teeth sinking into her shoulder to mark her, drawing blood. He'd do her right there, claiming every inch until she was sobbing, her body shaking from the unwanted pleasure he forced out of her.
His free hand clawed at the sheets, nails digging into the fabric as the image sharpened. He'd flip her around after, face pressed to the wall, ass up, and take her from behind. Spreading her cheeks, he'd spit on her hole before pushing into her ass, no lube, just the remnants of her own slick from her ruined pussy. She'd scream then, muffled cries turning to broken gasps as he reamed her out, cock pistoning in and out with savage force. Cum would leak from her front, dripping down her thighs, mixing with her tears.
Sanzu's breath came in ragged pants, his body tensing as climax neared. He jerked harder, twisting his wrist at the base, imagining flooding her insides. First her cunt, then her ass, marking her as his obsession made flesh. "I wanna fill you up, make you mine..." he'd hiss, grinding deep as he unloaded, pulse after pulse of hot cum painting her walls white. She'd collapse when he was done, used and trembling, but he'd drag her back to her room, whispering promises of more.
The fantasy shattered as orgasm hit him like a freight train. Cum spurted over his fist, ropes of it splattering his stomach and the sheets, his cock twitching in his grip as he milked every drop. He rode it out, hips jerking, mind hazy with aftershocks. For a moment, silence returned, broken only by his heaving breaths.
He wiped his hand on the sheet, smirking. Soon.
It was this night.
Sanzu Haruchiyo lay on his thin mattress, eyes fixed on the ceiling cracks that mapped out like veins in his mind. He had waited. Observed. The pieces fell into place not through force, but through patience, the kind that gnawed at his insides but sharpened his focus. The nurses' charts praised his "progress" and that "Patient Sanzu engages appropriately with peers," one note read after he'd nodded politely during group therapy, his gaze lingering just long enough on her silhouette across the room. "Shows signs of emotional regulation around female patient in adjacent room" another added, oblivious to the way his pulse quickened at the sound of her door clicking open.
They saw integration where he saw an opportunity. Understaffing hit hard on these shifts; overworked nurses juggling meds and checks across too many halls. Internal doors stayed unlocked longer during rounds, thirty seconds, sometimes a minute, while they scribbled notes or answered calls from underfunded admin.
Blind spots existed: the curve near the shared bathrooms where cameras didn't reach, the shadowed alcove by the vending machines where footsteps echoed wrong. Sanzu knew them all. He'd mapped them in his head, timing the patrols, noting the night nurse's habit of lingering at the station with her coffee.
She was his prescription. The girl next door, quiet and withdrawn, was a ghost in his fantasies. In his mind, it wasn't an obsession; it was destiny, he thought. She understood the mess inside him, the way the world fractured without something to hold it together. Mutual healing, he told himself as he replayed their brief interactions: a shared glance in the common area, her soft "excuse me" when their hands brushed at the table. She belonged beside him, stabilizing the madness, her presence the only thing that made sense in this sterile cage. The staff's notes gave him license, more time in shared spaces, and casual conversations were encouraged as "therapeutic bonding." He smiled at them, compliant, and they unlocked the doors a little wider.
Tonight, the crack widened. The clock ticked past midnight. Sanzu sat up slowly, his heart steady, calculated. He'd earned her trust in fragments: a nod during meals, a quiet question about her day that drew a hesitant reply. "I'm okay," she'd said once, her voice barely above the din, and he'd latched onto it like scripture. She saw him, or so he believed.
And he believed that this was right.
He slipped from his room when the door latch hesitated, the nurse's footsteps fading toward the east wing. The hallway stretched empty, cool air raising goosebumps on his arms. He moved without rush, body low, sticking to the walls where shadows pooled. Her door was next, number 14, the one with the faint scratch from a prior patient's rage. It wasn't locked; rounds had passed, and the understaffed shift meant no immediate follow-up. He tested the handle, breath held, and it turned smoothly.
Inside, the room mirrored his: dim light from a nightstand bulb, bed against the far wall. She slept on her side, facing away, breathing even and soft. Her hair spilled across the pillow, strands catching the glow. Sanzu closed the door behind him, the click swallowed by the facility's hum. He stood there, watching, the obsession coiling tight in his chest. This was a connection, he thought. She was stabilizing him, him claiming what was meant to be.
He always wondered, imagined, fantasized about how she smelled up close, how she’d feel on him.
He approached the bed, steps silent on the floor. She stirred slightly as the mattress dipped under his weight, but didn't wake. His hand hovered over her shoulder, then settled lightly, shaking gently. "Hey," he whispered, voice low and coaxing, the tone he'd practiced in mirrors to sound reassuring. "It's me, from next door."
Her eyes fluttered open, confusion clouding them in the low light. She pushed up on an elbow, glancing toward the door. "What... Sanzu? How did you-"
"Shh," he cut in, hand sliding to her arm. "The doors are open tonight. It's okay. We're supposed to talk, remember? The nurses say it's good for us." Lies wrapped in truth; their notes encouraged interaction, and in his delusion, this was mutual. She belonged here, with him, healing the fractures Bonten had left. "I'm gonna help you."
She tensed, pulling back slightly, but the room felt smaller, the walls pressing in, looking anywhere but him. "You shouldn't be here. I need to call someone-"
"No," he said, sharper now, his free hand catching her wrist as she reached for the call button by the bed. He pinned it down, body shifting to loom over her. "You understand me. I see it in your eyes. This is destiny. We're connected." His voice dropped, fervent, the words spilling from the dark well of his fixation. She was his anchor, the one who quieted the screams in his head. Without her, nothing held.
Panic flickered in her gaze, but he pressed closer, his knee nudging between her legs to part them slightly. "Please, just listen. The staff thinks we're progressing. This is part of it, healing together. You know?" He leaned in, breath hot against her neck, inhaling her scent. It was faint soap. His hand trailed up her arm, fingers digging in just enough to hold, to remind.
She twisted, whispering urgently, "Stop. This isn't right. Let go." But the night shift's overwork meant no one patrolled this wing for minutes yet. The blind spot outside her door bought time. Sanzu's mind raced with plans: he'd observed her routines, knew she took her meds late, and that drowsiness lingered. Earning trust had been key, those hallway chats where he'd smiled, shared fabricated stories of "getting better" to mirror her hesitance. Now, it cracked under his weight.
He released her wrist only to grab both her hands, pinning them above her head with one of his, the other shoving up her thin nightshirt. Fabric bunched at her waist, exposing pale skin and simple cotton panties. "You feel it too," he murmured, delusion painting her resistance as shyness, as the push-pull of fate. "We're meant to be like this, together." His mouth found her neck, teeth grazing, then biting down hard enough to mark, a claim in the dim light.
She bucked against him, legs kicking, but he wedged his thigh between hers, pressing firm to immobilize. "No- Sanzu, please, don't-" Her voice broke, but he silenced it with his lips crashing against hers, tongue forcing entry, tasting the salt of her fear. His free hand roamed down, cupping her breast through the shirt, thumb roughly circling the nipple until it hardened despite her struggles. It was soft, so soft.
In his head, this was consent unspoken, her body responding because she knew, deep down, she was his. Destiny didn't ask; it took. He broke the kiss, panting, and yanked her panties aside, fingers probing roughly between her legs. She was dry, resistant, but he didn't care; spit slicked his digits as he pushed one inside, then two, stretching her without mercy. "See? You need this. To heal me. To be with me. Right?"
Her whimpers filled the room, body arching to escape, but he held fast, pumping his fingers in and out, curling to hit spots that made her gasp involuntarily. The wet sounds grew as her body betrayed her, lubrication easing the intrusion. Sanzu's cock throbbed in his pants, straining against the fabric. He withdrew his hand, letting himself out with hurried motions, freeing his length, hard, veined, tip already leaking.
"You're mine, aren't you?" he growled, positioning himself at her entrance, rubbing the head along her folds. She shook her head, tears streaking her cheeks, but he thrust forward, burying half his cock in one brutal push. She cried out, the sound muffled as he clamped a hand over her mouth. Tight, so fucking tight, her walls clenched around him in protest, but he didn't stop, hips snapping to sink deeper, bottoming out with a groan.
He held still a moment, savoring the grip, the way she fluttered around him. He groaned, eyes rolling back at the back of his head as he savored the feeling he'd been fantasizing all this time. "This is us," he whispered huskily against her ear, starting to move, slow at first, dragging out, then slamming back in, hearing her gasp. The bed creaked under the rhythm, his body covering hers completely, pinning her wrists still. Each thrust stretched her wider, his balls slapping against her ass, the friction building heat.
She sobbed into his palm, legs trembling, but he fucked harder, chasing the delusion's high. Connection pulsed through him; she was stabilizing the void, her pussy milking him like it was made for this. He released her mouth to grab her hip, shifting, angling deeper, pounding into her with relentless force. "Say it," he demanded, voice ragged. "Say you understand."
No words came, only gasps and pleas, but he interpreted the sounds as affirmation. His pace quickened, sweat slicking their skin, the room filling with the obscene slap of flesh. He leaned down, sucking a nipple into his mouth, biting and laving until it bruised. Her body jerked, inner muscles spasming, and he felt her edge toward unwanted release, the clench pulling him closer.
"Fuck, yessss," he hissed, one hand sliding between them to rub her clit roughly, forcing the orgasm from her. She shattered around him, walls pulsing, and he followed seconds later, burying deep as he came, hot spurts of cum flooding her, creampie marking her as his. He ground against her, emptying every drop, the overflow leaking out as he stayed seated inside.
Panting, he collapsed half atop her, cock softening but not pulling out. "See? Mutual Healing." he chuckled, sweat beading his forehead. Delusion wrapped it all, the tears, the shakes, as proof of their bond. Outside, footsteps approached faintly, but he lingered, whispering promises of forever. The system hadn't broken; he'd slipped through its cracks, claiming his prescription.
The night stretched on, her breath ragged beside him, as he planned the next visit.
But the obsession only deepened… and this may not be the last time this will happen…
South x little sister reader or Mikey x little sister reader? 👀
⊹₊ Parking Lot Heat
- South Terano x Little Sister Reader
ꨄ︎ Word Count: 1,500+ words
ꨄ︎ Content Warning: INCEST smut, public sex/exhibitionism, rough sex/violence(in foreplay), dubious consent elements(power dynamics), and a cute moment in the end
ꨄ︎ Synopsis: After winning a brutal street brawl, South hauls you to his bike, making you straddle him right there in the parking lot, sliding your soaked panties aside to impale you on his throbbing cock while revving the engine to match your moans.
ꨄ︎ Note: I chose South because I think he needs some love :] ♡ Thank you for the request! I had fun writing this today! keep it coming guys-
previous smut: Mochizuki Kanji x F!Reader ♡
next smut: Obsessed Patient! Sanzu Haruchiyo x F!Patient! Reader ♡
Adrenaline surged through him as he stood victorious above the groaning men, scattered across the cracked asphalt, but his eyes locked on you, his little sister, huddled against the chain-linked fence where he'd told you to wait.
Minami Terano, your big brother, his broad shoulders heaving with each ragged breath, knuckles split and dripping red. His blonde hair was matted with sweat, a fresh cut above his eye already swelling, but his gaze stayed on you.
You pressed against the cold chain-linked fence, fingers twisted in the hem of your skirt, feeling a bit of thrill and that heat in you. You'd come with him because he asked—no, demanded—you watch, always watch, like you were his lucky charm in these underground brawls.
You bit your lower lip, eyes tracing his body as he walked towards you, your body betraying you with need, the way his torn shirt clung to his sweat-slicked abs as you whispered to yourself, "God, he's..."
His eyes locked on yours now, a smirk tugged at his bloodied lips as he stalked towards you, boots crunching gravel, ignoring the whimpers from the fallen. You straightened now, mind racing as a mix of awe and hunger flooded you.
Heh, That one felt good," he rasped, "You okay?" , his voice gravelly from the shouts of the fight, his massive hand cupping your cheek, thumb brushing away a tear you hadn't realized had fallen. It was tender, almost, but the fire in his touch promised more.
"Yeah," you breathed, leaning into him, your small frame dwarfed by his. "You were... incredible." The words tumbled out, laced with the truth of your desire, and his smirk widened, eyes darkening as he sensed your need.
"Get on," You stumbled but obeyed, heart pounding as his hands gripped your hips. He hauled you toward his bike, parked at the lot's edge, far away from the lights and eyes, just you and him in this heat. No words needed; you knew the drill, the way these nights ended with you both chasing the high together.
He swung his leg over the seat first, positioning himself in front, pulling you with him in one fluid motion, your thighs straddling his lap as you faced him, the leather warm against your skin, the bike's frame pressing into your back as your thighs clamped around his waist. His hands were rough, calloused from the fight. Immediately, he shoved your skirt up to bunch at your waist, exposing your soaked panties. You gasped, but arched into him, your arms looping around his neck, fingers threading through his damp hair. "Minami," you murmured, voice husky, "here? Now?"
He nipped at your jaw, his breath hot against your skin. His fingers delved between your legs, tracing the damp fabric. "Look at you," his fingers hooked the crotch of your panties, yanking them aside with a rip that echoed in the empty lot. Cool night air hit your exposed folds, making you shiver, "Already wet from watching me..."
But then his cock was free, thick, veined, throbbing hard as he freed it from his jeans. Pre-cum beaded at the tip, and you licked your lips, grinding down instinctively, your clit brushing the ridged length, its warmth pulsing. His hands roamed underneath your shirt, feeling the skin with his rough hands as he nipped at your jaw again, tilting your head to the side. You bit your lip, grinding harder, impatient, moaning through your lips as you closed your eyes, imagining what this night would be for you. Imagining how he'd handle you on him, how he'd-
He gripped your ass hard, lifting you just enough to align you, then slammed you down onto him. Your pussy stretched around his girth, walls clenching as he impaled you fully in one brutal thrust. A cry tore from your throat, sharp and needy, muffled only by the rev of the engine as South twisted the throttle with one hand. The vibration rumbled through the bike, buzzing against your clit where it ground against his pelvis, syncing with the way he started bucking up into you.
"Fuck, you're tight", he snarled, his free hand tangling in your hair to yank your head back, exposing your neck for his teeth to graze. The burn was delicious, exciting, filling you completely as you cried out again, nails digging into his shoulders. Each rev matched your moans, deep growl of the motor underscoring your whimpers as he fucked you harder, the bike rocking slightly under the force.
He was huge, always overwhelming, but you loved it, the way he claimed every inch of you. South twisted the throttle with one hand again, the engine roaring to life beneath you, vibrations humming straight to your core. It matched the rhythm he set, bucking up into you hard and fast, the bike rocking with each snap of his hips.
"Moan for me," he snarled, free hand fisting your hair to tilt your head back, exposing your throat for his teeth to scrape. "Moan for me, let 'em hear if anyones's watching. Let 'em hear that beautfiul sound." Your cries of pain and pleasure blended with the growl of the motor, raw and unrestrained, as pleasure coiled tight in your belly.
The parking lot felt too exposed, cold under the moonlight, with distant car lights flashing by on the highway. Even though it was abandoned, anyone could park here at any second, but South didn't care. Dominance poured off him, his hips bucking up relentlessly, cock driving deep into your slick heat. You clutched his shoulders, nails digging into the fresh bruises from the brawl, riding him as the engine's roar drowned out your pleas. "Minami —ahh—too deep!" But he only laughed, dark and triumphant, grinding you down harder, his thumb finding your clit to rub circles that made stars burst behind your eyes, making you so sensitive, legs trembling at this position.
Sweat slicked your bodies, mixing with the blood on his skin, the metallic tang sharp in the air. He stopped, pulling you down onto his cock, hands still on your hips, he grinned as he heard you whimper a 'Please'. You begged, voice breaking as you pathetically rolled your hips, waiting for his move. Still, you rode him shamelessly, hips rolling, feeling him more even if you're so full of him, pussy clenching around his shaft with every little pathetic bounce you could manage.
Your own hands roamed his chest, tracing the bruises blooming from the fight. It humanized him, this vulnerability under the power, and it only made you wetter, your juices slicking his cock as you pulled your body closer to his, to feel him more, but he only pushed you back, watching you make a mess of yourself. He laughed, low and dark, shifting to wrap an arm around your waist now, stilling your movement as he stood the bike up, balancing with ease.
The new angle drove him deeper as he took his turn, his balls slapping your ass with lewd smacks, the engine's buzz intensifying against your clit. You were lost in it, the risk of the open lot, the thrill of his victory, the insane heat of fucking your brother right there. "Minami- oh god, I'm gonna—' Your words dissolved into a scream as he rubbed your clit with his thumb, rough circles that shattered you. You moaned loudly now, unable to control it because of how good he felt. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding onto him tight, your bodies pressed together as you bit into his shoulder.
Your panties, still askew, chafed against your thigh, reminding you how quickly he'd claimed you. "Cum for me sis," he demanded, voice rough against your ear, nipping the lobe. The vibrations intensified as he revved higher, pushing you over the edge. Your pussy spasmed around his cock, gushing wetness down his shaft as orgasm ripped through you, moans turning to screams that blended with the engine's howl.
South didn't stop, chasing his own release with feral grunts, pounding through it, his own grunts turning feral. He thrust erratically now, the bike trembling under you both, until he buried himself to the hilt and came, hot spurts of cum flooding your insides.
You collapsed against him, panting, his arms cradling you close, the engine idling to a soft purr, his cock still twitching inside you as the engine idled down to a purr. He held you there, possessive, one hand stroking your back while the other killed the ignition. "Good girl," he murmured, lips brushing your forehead as he let you come down, your breath hitching, cheek smooshed against his collarbone. You are spent, pussy still twitching, sensitive.
For a moment, he just held you, lips pressing soft kisses to your temple, the dominance giving way to something softer, more intimate. "Love you little sis," he murmured, voice rough but sincere. You smiled, spent and sated, nuzzling his neck. "Love you too. Take me home, more?"
He chuckled, lifting you off with care, cum trickling down your thigh as he tucked you against him. ""Always."
I'm SURPRISED. I forgot I had Tumblr and opened it today, and saw lots of activity in this one.
Don't worry you guys, I'll make your requests 🤭 I'm loving the ideas you giving me
ꨄ︎ Word Count: 600+ words
ꨄ︎ Content Warning: smut, consensual, size difference, light choking, oral(female and male receiving), deepthroating, creampie, praise kink.
previous smut: Hamna Shuji x Big Sister Reader ♡
next smut: South Terano x Little Sister Reader ♡
Rough thrusts, tender kisses, his calloused hands gripping your hips firmly, "Too big-" you whimpered, your fingers biting into his skin as he pounded you, lifting your legs over his broad shoulders for a deeper penetration.
Above you, Kanji, eyes in a lustful haze, panting, his breath mingled with deep rumbling moans of praise, pressed into your forehead as he asked for reassurance once again, his pace growing rougher, "Can I...?" He pulled back slightly, locking eyes with you, watching your expression twist as his hands roamed your breasts and thighs, feeling them in his hands as he pounded harder, watching her breath hitch as she held back her moans.
She nodded frantically, but before she could say a word, Kanji thrusted deep, stilling inside her with a groan, and pulled all the way out, just leaving the tip in, and began snapping his hips faster, his body pressing hers below him deeper into the bed, disabling her ability to move or squirm beneath him as she trembled now, hands slapping at his shoulders as her walls tightened and sucked him deeper.
He groaned, unable to hold it in anymore. He whispered praises and gentle words before he pressed his hips deep and still, cumming deep inside you, letting you take it all.
He kissed you softly at first, lips brushing yours in tender pecks that deepened slowly, his tongue sliding against yours with a lazy tongue. You melted into it, your hands threading through his untied hair, pulling him closer for some cuddles. But Kanji had other plans. He broke the kiss, trailing his mouth down your neck, nipping lightly at your collarbone before descending lower.
“Kanji?”
His broad shoulders nudged your thighs apart, and you felt the warmth of his breath against your pussy before his tongue even touched you. When it did, it was deliberate, flat and slow, lapping up the length of your slit with a firmness that made your hips buck. You gasped at the sudden switch, fingers digging into the sheets. He hummed in response, the vibration buzzing through you as he focused on your clit, circling it with the tip of his tongue before sucking gently. His hands gripped your thighs, those rough palms pressing into your skin, holding you open for him. He delved deeper, tongue thrusting inside you, tasting every inch as your juices and his cum coated his chin. His nose brushed your sensitive nub with each lick. Your breaths came in short pants, moans spilling out as he alternated between soft laps and firmer sucks, drawing out your pleasure until your body trembled once again.
But he pulled back just as you teetered close, his lips glistening as he crawled up your body. "Your turn," he said, voice husky, stroking his thick, veined, and already throbbing hard cock. The size of it makes your mouth water even as nerves twist in your gut. You shifted to your knees, wrapping your hand around the base, feeling the heat beat under your fingers. Leaning in, you licked the tip, tasting the salty bead of pre-cum before taking him into your mouth.
He was too big. Your lips stretched wide around his girth, jaw aching as you bobbed down, tongue swirling along the underside. Kanji groaned, one hand tangling in your hair as you took more of him. But when you pushed further, trying to deepthroat, his length hit the back of your throat, triggering a gag. You choked, eyes watering, pulling back with a cough, strings of saliva connecting your lips to his cock.
"Fuck, sorry," he rasped, letting you breathe before guiding you back gently. You tried again, slower this time, hollowing your cheeks and sucking as you bobbed, your hand stroking what you couldn't fit. His moans grew deeper, hips twitching forward involuntarily.
You choked once more when he thrust shallowly, but the sound only made him curse under his breath, praising you with gritted teeth. "Just like that, shit... your mouth's so perfect. Keep going for me~"
Playing Next...
↻ ◁ | South Terano x Little Sister Reader SMUT | ▷ ↺
ꨄ︎ Word Count: 1k+ words
ꨄ︎ Content Warning: INCEST, smut, unprotected sex, creampie, rough sex, vaginal penetration, teasing, multiple positions, squirting, orgasm denial, a lil bit of spanking, a lil nipple play
ꨄ︎ Synopsis: One steamy night, Shuji gets a perverted idea and plans to make his big sis squirt all over him.
previous smut: haitani ran x sister reader ♡
next smut: mochizuki kanji x f!reader ♡
Shuji, your little brother, wants to try something new today~
You’re both snuggled up in your bed after a wild day dodging punks and causing trouble together. Shu-chan's long arms are wrapped 'round yourwaist, his tattooed hands sneaking everywhere naughtily around you like he does every time he wants something from you. His sharp eyes gleam with that chaotic mischief, a bored grin twisting into something wicked.
“Nee-chan, I’m bored~,” he purrs hot against your neck, teeth grazing your skin while his fingers dive under your skirt, strokin' your puffy slit through soaked panties, an idea coming to his mind. “Ever squirted, big sis? Bet it'll be hilarious watchin ya lose control ♡”
U squeak all blushy, thighs clamping his wrist tight. “S-Shu-chan? Squirt? Don’t be stupid. I just changed my sheets.” U groaned, but your cunny betrays you, throbbin n gushin more honey at his dirty words. He laughs that low, thrill-seeking cackle, yanking your clothes off rough but playful, pinning you on your back with knees over his shoulders.
His huge cock, long, veiny, twitching with pre, way too big for u, slams balls-deep in one brutal thrust, sack whappin' your ass.
plap plap!
He tilts perfectly, bulbous tip scraping your G-spot on every lazy grind. “Ya feel me, nee-chan? I’m gonna wreck u good~ heheh~” U whimper, nails clawin his pale shoulders as he jackhammers steadily, his thumb flickin your clit in teasin swirls.
He did every position he could think of; twisting and positioning u just because he can. Because the thought of ruining his big sis just feels so right♡ I mean, who else is gonna make u feel good but him?
It brings back memories during these moments with him coming home all bruised n hyped on adrenaline. You're asleep in your sexy nightie, curled up 'round his pillow, but he creeps in quietly, eyes locking on your exposed thigh. "Nee-chan's too temptin," he mutters, slidin under the covers. Wakes ya with fingers slippin between ur legs, strokin ur puffy lips till they're slick. You stir sleepy, "Mmm? Shuji... it's late..." But he shushes ya with a kiss, tongue invading greedily. "Need ya now. Adrenaline's burnin... gonna fuck it out on you." he strips u bare, gentle for once, lays u on ur side spooning tight. His cock nudges ur entrance, pushin in slow, letting u feel inch by veiny inch till he's buried snug, arm 'round ur waist holding ya close as u adjust around him.
And even now, all he could think about is to grind his tip against ur drippin folds, buck up at ya, spearin' u full of him- Shluck! His balls smacking ur pretty ass as u try to sink down impaled. All he could think about is u mewling loud, walls stretchin 'round his girth, but of course, he don't wait, his hands gripping ur hips rough, bouncing ya like a toy, his flushed tip kissin ur womb as ur tits jiggle under ur top. He wanna latch his mouth on ur nipple through the fabric and suck hard.
Time drags as half an hour flies by in sweaty bliss, your belly clenching, that pressure swelling huge. "Sh-Shu-, slow down! Too stuffed... gonna… AH-!" U cry, but he just smirks devilishly, his speed fast, trying to get u to squirt on him as u twist and squirm away from the feeling.
Still no luck? He suddenly yanks u to doggy, your ass popped high, cheek smooshed in ur pillows.
Shluck shluck shluck!
His shaft spears your dripping cunt from behind, his hand tugging your hair back hard, while his other hand smacking your wobbling cheeks till they're rosy handprints blooming beautifully for his eyes. He snaps his hips, crown pounding your front insides nonstop while fingers twist and pull your achy pearl below. U jolt crazy, pussy puffin wet queefs 'round his stretching girth.
"Mmm, holdin' out on me? You're gripping me too perfect~" U pant, rocking back hungry despite yourself. Hanma's breathing ragged, dick pulsating, but he holds back, edges like a pro, poppin out to slap slap your pretty clit with his glossy meat.
He then flops back, drags u on top. U ease down slow, stuffed to the brim, his hands steerin' your bounces brutal. “Grind hard on me, Nee-chan!~” U obey, boobs bouncing, but he bucks up feral, one finger circlin your backhole while thumb grinds your front nub. Pressure blasts off, your walls spasming wildly.
Two hours fucking non-stop, you're a total disaster. Your hair is a mess, skin glowing slick, cunny swollen and tender from endless ravaging. Shu-chan's tried 'em all: spoonin with clit-finger crazily, hoistin u against the wall standin with legs hooked 'round his waist, even lotus facin him, pearl mashin his trimmed bush as cock stirs your belly deep. Every shift nails that g-spot fresh in hooked jabs, quick dips, or savage full drives. You’re whinin' nonstop, voice cracking with every thrust he gives u.
He flipped u again before u could come down ur high, putting u in missionary. u tried to close ur legs, but your legs were crushed wide and folded to your ears with his strong arms. His lanky frame smothers you completely, chest mashin your soft plush tits, lips crashin yours in messy tongue, bitin playful. His cock jackhammers fast.
plap plap plap plap plap!
No pity with his tip hammering your G-spot ruthlessly, kissing it brutally. "You gonna squirt for me now, nee-chan? Come on~ give it to me or I won’t stop~" he snickered meanly, his thumb crushes your pearl, whirling it, his other sneaky finger nudgin your puckered star, slippin tip-deep to hook against your squeezin walls.
You’re clutchin’ his chest feeble, legs thrashin wild in his strong-grip, heels poundin his back frantic. "Sh-Shu-! No-, pull away! I can’t- stop- nghhhh- I’m gonna- gonna… AH! Please, out! Too much, AH!" U wiggle desperately, hips bucking for escape, tears flooding ur face as u bawl messily. Pussy locks tight, fightin him, but Shu-chan's body pins ya solid, shaft drills that spongy spot merciless, finger strokin your button n probin your hole.
"Heh, sob prettier for me, baby~ squirt alreadyyy~ ♡" he taunts, pumps goin short n vicious, grindin hard. U explode, sheer squirt erupts 'round his plunged shaft, drenching his ripped abs, bed in steamy sprays. Gush after gush, u seize screamin, shoving, kicking, pleading harder: "Stooop! Cumming– please~ Shu~!" But he plows right thru, grinnin devilishly as he drains every jet till you're wrecked, quakin limp in puddles, sobbin hoarse.
At last, he snaps, thick ropes blast your twitchin depths, floodin your squirt-soaked mess. Eases out lazy, eyes your clit, oozing slit hungry. “Heehee, what a pretty lil view for me, nee-chan~ Makes me wanna keep going~” he kisses you clean, gentle, kissin salty tears off, cuddlin you close with that affectionate smirk. After? Of course, he’s going again, no way he’ll end it with one pretty squirt ♡
Playing Next...
↻ ◁ | Mochizuki Kanji x F!Reader SMUT | ▷ ↺
just tried something new. what do u guys think? did i so his character right? idk how to feel about this, i promise i'll make a better shuji smut. this is my first time writing him in a smut 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯
ꨄ︎ Word Count: 3.2k words
ꨄ︎ Content Warning: INCEST, smut, unprotected sex, creampie, mention of breeding, coercion/dubious consent, rough sex, semi-public risk
ꨄ︎ Synopsis: After a late-night club party, Ran crosses the line by seducing and coercing his troubled sister into having sex with him. Haunted by the encounter, Ran seeks distractions with other women but fails, driving him to crave more of his sister despite the risks and her protest.
previous smut: haitani brothers x sister reader
next smut: hanma shuji x big sister reader smut
Reader discretion is advised; these elements are central to the story below.
It was well past midnight, the kind of hour when the party's haze blurred lines and secrets spilled out. Ran lounged behind his desk, sleeves rolled up on his crisp shirt, revealing the tattoos snaking up his forearms.
His little sister had shown up unannounced an hour ago. She'd stormed in, eyes red from crying, her tight dress hugging her curves in a way that made Ran's jaw clench. She had a boyfriend, some punk who thought he could handle her. But from the way she ranted, he'd fucked up again. Cheating, yelling, the usual bullshit. Ran had listened, pouring her a drink, his arm around her shoulders a little too lingering. “That loser's not worth your time,” he'd murmured, his voice smooth as silk, fingers brushing her hair back. But the air shifted when she leaned into him, her body soft and warm against his. The club noise faded; it was just them now, the door locked, the world outside irrelevant.
But Ran couldn't hide it anymore as minutes passed. He couldn’t stop looking at her from the way she got closer, her hand on his thigh, her eyes looking up at him like that…
Soon, Ran had his lips grazing her ear as he pulled her onto his lap, whispering that he’d make her feel good. She stiffened but didn't pull away, her breath hitching. His hands slid up her thighs, pushing the hem of her dress higher. She whispered protests, “We can't, Ran-” but her body betrayed her, thighs parting slightly. He'd always been the one to protect her, guide her, and tonight, that protection twisted into something darker, more possessive. Coercion wrapped in affection; he kissed her neck, slow and insistent, murmuring praises.
She resisted at first, pushing at his chest, but Ran's experience with women, those countless nights of breaking down barriers, made it easy. He captured her lips, tongue delving deep, hands gripping her ass to grind her against the growing bulge in his pants. “Shh, just relax,” he coaxed, voice low and commanding. “Your boyfriend doesn't touch you like this, does he? He can't make you feel what I can.” Her whimpers turned to moans as he slipped a hand between her legs, fingers rubbing her clit through her panties until she was soaked. The coercion deepened; he wouldn't stop until she gave in, until she admitted she wanted it.
By the time he had her bent over his desk, panties discarded, she was begging him, not for him to stop, but for more. “Ran, please... we need protection,” she gasped, glancing at the drawer where he kept condoms. Of course she knows, she walked in too many times in his office, in the same situation as hers, a girl in his hands, bent over or on the couch. But tonight, she doesn’t care that it’s her in that position, all she needs right now is a distraction. He chuckled, dark and knowing, grabbing one and rolling it on his long cock. It was a cycle he knew well; he'd play along, then take what he really wanted. He positioned himself behind her, the tip of his cock pressing against her entrance. “Good girl, always so responsible,” he praised, thrusting in slowly, stretching her tight pussy around him. She cried out, nails scraping the desk, but the club music drowned it out.
Ran fucked her hard from the start, hips snapping forward, his cock hitting deep with every stroke. He'd bedded models, executives, rivals' wives and women who screamed and clawed but none gripped him like this. His little sister's pussy clenched around him like it was made for him, velvet walls sucking him in. “Fuck, you're so tight,” he groaned, hands bruising her hips as he pounded relentlessly. She came fast, her body shuddering, pussy spasming around the condom-sheathed cock. “That's it, cum for your big brother,” he coaxed, leaning down to pepper kisses along her spine, nipping at her skin. “One more, baby. You can handle it. Let me make you feel good.”
But midway through, as her second orgasm built, Ran felt the barrier too confining. He ripped the condom off with a swift tug, tossing it aside without a word. “Ran, what- no! Put it back!” she protested, twisting to look at him, but he silenced her with a deep thrust, bare cock sliding into her slick heat. The difference was immediate, skin on skin, no latex dulling the sensation. He groaned loudly, pleasure spilling out as he slammed deeper. “Can't help it, sis. You feel too fucking good. Gonna fill you up.” She shook her head, “Don't cum inside- nghh- I’m not on pills” but her words dissolved into moans as he hit that spot inside her, over and over.
He made her cum again, fingers circling her clit while he pounded, her pussy gushing around him. “Look at you,” he chuckled darkly, sweat beading on his forehead, “Creaming on my cock. Your boyfriend could never do this,” he praised, kissing her shoulder, her neck, coaxing her with sweet lies. “One more time, cum for me again. Big brother's gonna take care of you.” Possessed by the need, he flipped her onto her back on the desk, legs over his shoulders, and drove in deeper than before. The angle let him bottom out, his balls slapping against her ass with wet smacks. She was a mess. Her hair tangled, panting, dress hiked up, pussy stretched wide around his girth.
The cycle repeated. She insisted on another condom after he pulled out, cum dripping from his tip but not yet inside her. He obliged, sheathing himself again, but as he fucked her missionary, slow and teasing at first, building her up with kisses on her lips, her breasts, he ripped it off once more. “Ran, stop! You promised!” she cried, but he pinned her wrists above her head, thrusting bare and brutal. “Can't promise when your pussy milks me like this,” he growled, voice rough with need. He came then, groaning long and low, hot spurts flooding her depths despite her pleas. She whimpered, overstimulated, but her body betrayed her, clenching to pull him deeper as another orgasm ripped through her as she screamed, nails raking down his back.
Ran didn't stop. He was changing, this encounter rewriting him. All those women before? Faceless now. Only she mattered, her pussy fitting him so perfectly it drove him insane. He pulled her up, settling into his chair, guiding her to straddle him. “Ride me, baby,” he coaxed, peppering her face with kisses from her forehead, cheeks, lips. “Show me how much you want it. Cum one more time, I know you can.” She sank down, her pussy swallowing his bare cock inch by inch, the fit so snug, so perfect… and that made Ran's control shatter.
For the first time in his life, Haitani Ran, playboy, kingpin, fucker of countless holes, whined. A high, desperate sound escaped as she bottomed out, her walls hugging every ridge and vein. “Oh fuck... shit, you feel... ahh,” he moaned, head falling back, hips bucking up involuntarily. She started moving, grinding down, and he lost it. Groaning deep, whimpering like a man possessed. “So good... your pussy's perfect... nngh, sis, don't stop.” His fingers dug into her hips, bruising crescents as he guided her rhythm, but she was the one setting the pace now, riding him with a mix of reluctance and raw need.
The pleasure built fast, overwhelming. Ran was vocal, verbal, praises tumbling out between gasps. “Baby… You're amazing, baby... taking my cock so deep... fuck, I'm gonna lose it.” He peppered her neck with kisses, sucking marks into her skin, hands roaming to squeeze her ass, her tits. 'Cum again for me. Let big brother feel you squeeze him. You can handle it, can you?” She did, shattering around him, her pussy fluttering wildly, and that perfect fit pushed him over. He groaned loud, a guttural whine tearing from his throat as he thrust up, cumming hard inside her once more.
But they were in his office, the club thumping below, voices and music too close. His moans were getting too loud, echoing off the walls. She panicked, slapping a hand over his mouth mid-whimper. “Shut up, Ran! They'll hear!” she hissed, but he just bucked harder, eyes wild, possessed. The hand muffled his groans into desperate hums, his tongue licking her palm as he pounded up into her like it wasn't his sister on him.
A week had dragged by since that night in his office, the memory of her body clinging to him like a fever dream Ran couldn't shake. The club pulsed with its usual chaos of sweaty bodies grinding on the dance floor, deals whispered in shadowed corners but Ran's mind wandered back to her every idle second. Her boyfriend had called her phone that morning; she'd ignored it, but Ran knew the score. She was his now, marked inside and out, even if she pretended otherwise during the day. Tonight, though, he needed a distraction. Some random hookup to scratch the itch, prove it was just a one-off high.
He spotted her at the bar: a leggy brunette in a skimpy top and skirt, eyes hungry as she scanned the room. Name was irrelevant, let's call her Hana for the sake of it. She laughed at his smooth lines, let his hand trail her waist as he led her upstairs to the office. The door clicked shut, bass vibrating the floor like an afterthought. Ran poured drinks, but his cock was already half-hard, anticipation buzzing. “You look like you know how to have fun,” he murmured, pulling her close, lips crashing against hers. She kissed back eagerly, hands fumbling with his belt, all too willing.
Clothes hit the floor fast. Hana was stacked, full tits bouncing as she shoved him into the chair, straddling his lap with a grin. “I wanna ride you,” she purred, grinding her wet pussy along his bare length. Ran smirked, guiding her down onto his cock, watching it disappear into her folds. She sank slowly, moaning loud, her walls hot and slick around him. It was decent, tight enough, wet enough but as she started bouncing, hips rolling in a practiced rhythm, something was off. No spark, no grip that pulled at his soul.
He gripped her ass, thrusting up to meet her, but his mind flashed to his sister. The way her pussy had molded to him, sucking him in like it was starving. Hana’s bounces were mechanical, her moans performative. “Fuck me harder,” she demanded, nails raking his shoulders, but Ran felt detached, his cock sliding in and out without that electric pull. He flipped her onto the desk for a change, pounding into her from behind, balls slapping her clit with sharp smacks. She came quickly, pussy clenching sporadically, crying out his name like it meant something. But for Ran? It was flat. No whine building in his throat, no desperate groans spilling free. Just efficient thrusts, chasing a release that felt hollow.
“Ride me again,” he said to Hana, pulling out and settling back in the chair, cock slick with her juices. Mia climbed on eagerly, facing him this time, tits jiggling as she impaled herself. She ground down, circling her hips, trying to draw him out. Ran dug fingers into her thighs, not bruising like with his sister, just holding. Her pussy was warm, welcoming, but it didn't fit. Didn't hug every inch, didn't make his vision blur with overwhelming pleasure. He thought of his sister bouncing on him that night, her hand clamping over his mouth to stifle his whimpers, the way her walls fluttered so perfectly it broke him. “Shit,” he muttered, but it lacked heat. Hana leaned in, kissing his neck, whispering dirty encouragements, but all he heard was his sister’s soft pleas, her body yielding under his hold.
He came eventually, grunting low as ropes of cum painted her insides. No condom this time, why bother with mediocrity? She milked him with a satisfied sigh, but as she dismounted, legs shaky, Ran already felt the emptiness. She dressed, giggling about round two, but he waved her off with a forced smile. “Maybe next time.” Alone, he leaned back, cock softening against his thigh, staring at the ceiling. That perfect fit with his sister? Irreplaceable. No other woman could make him whine, make him lose control like that. His phone buzzed— his sister’s name on the screen. ‘Miss you,' her text read. Ran's lips curved. He'd fix this itch properly soon. With her. Only her.
The drive home from the club felt endless, the city's lights blurring past as Ran's mind replayed the hollow fuck with Hana. Her body had been fine with curves in all the right places, eager moans, pretty body, but it was nothing compared to the way his sister’s pussy gripped him, pulling him deeper with every thrust. He gripped the steering wheel tighter, cock twitching at the thought. A week of stolen glances and late-night texts had built this tension; tonight, he wouldn't settle for less. Her apartment was just a short walk from his and Rindou’s own high-rise, but she'd given her a key to their place months ago, 'for emergencies,' she’d said. But never has he expected it to be used for emergencies like this.
He pushed through the door quietly, the lock clicking soft in the dim hallway. The living room lamp glowed low, she curled on the couch in one of his old shirts he’d let her keep months ago before she moves out from their place, her legs were tucked under her, scrolling her phone. She looked up, eyes widening a fraction, that mix of surprise and wariness he craved. “Ran? It's late. I thought you'd be at the club all night… and you didn’t text you were coming. What’s up?” Her voice was soft, hesitant, but she didn't move away when he crossed the room, towering over her.
“Couldn't stop thinking about you,” he murmured, voice rough from the night's smoke and unmet need. He dropped his jacket, fingers already undoing his belt as he sank onto his knees on the couch beside her. She shifted, the shirt riding up her thighs, bare underneath, he noted with a hungry smirk. “What about-” she started, glancing at her phone, probably thinking of that boyfriend who kept blowing up her messages. Ran snatched it from her hand, tossing it aside. “He doesn't get to interrupt this.”
Before she could protest, his mouth was on hers, kissing hard, tongue pushing past her lips to claim the taste he'd missed. She whimpered into it, hands pressing his chest half-heartedly, but her body betrayed her, arching closer. Ran's hand slid up her thigh, fingers finding her slit already damp. “See? You're wet for me. Been waiting, haven't you? Can’t be because of that boyfriend of yours.” He stroked her folds, thumb circling her clit until she gasped, thighs parting despite herself.
“R-Ran, we can't... not again,” she breathed, but her hips bucked against his touch. He chuckled low, free hand yanking the shirt up to expose her tits, nipples hardening in the cool air. He pinched one, rolling it between fingers as he dipped two digits inside her pussy, feeling that familiar snug heat clench around him. “Bullshit. Your cunt's begging for it.” He spat, pumping his fingers slow, feeling her warmth on his fingers, curling to hit that spot that made her moan, her protests dissolving into needy sounds that he’d missed.
Clothes came off in a rush. His shirt tugged over his head, pants shoved down to free his throbbing cock, long and veined, pre-cum beading at the tip. Her eyes flicked to it, cheeks flushing, but she didn't pull away when he hauled her onto his lap, straddling him. “Ride me like you did in the office,” he growled, gripping her hips to line her up. She hesitated, biting her lip, “Condom, Ran, please-” but he ignored it, rubbing his bare head against her entrance, teasing her clit, kissing her up until she sank down with a cry.
“Fuck, yes,” Ran groaned, head falling back as her walls enveloped him inch by inch. So tight, so perfect, molding to his girth like she was made for it. Better than Hana, better than anyone. Her hands braced on his shoulders, her pussy stretching around him, fluttering as she adjusted. 'It's too long... slow,” she whined, but he thrust up sharp, burying himself to the hilt. She yelped, nails digging in, but started moving, rocking her hips tentatively.
Ran watched her tits bounce with each rise and fall, the way her ass slapped his thighs. “That's it, sis. Take my cock.” His voice cracked on a moan, pleasure spiking as she clenched involuntarily. He grabbed her ass, spreading her cheeks to drive deeper, the angle hitting her g-spot dead-on. Jer moans grew louder, head thrown back, lost in it now.
“Oh god, Ran, it feels... so good” her boyfriend forgotten as she ground down harder, chasing her high.
But Ran needed more. He flipped them suddenly, pinning her beneath him on the couch, her legs hooked over his arms as he pounded in. The wet slap of skin echoed, her pussy squelching around his pistoning cock. “Gonna fill you up again,” he panted, feeling her tighten. She shook her head, “No, pull out- Ran!” she whined, “I'm not on anything!' Panic edged her voice, but her body arched, chasing the friction. Ran laughed breathlessly, thrusting erratic now, the pressure building until his balls drew tight, and with a whine that bordered on desperate, “Baby, fuck, your pussy's sucking me in”, he slammed deep, cum erupting in hot spurts against her cervix. She cried out, walls milking him through his orgasm, her own crashing over as juices soaked his shaft. Ran collapsed half on her, cock twitching inside, plugging his load deep.
But he wasn't done. Not even close. As her breathing evened, he pulled out slowly, cum leaking from her swollen lips. “On your knees,” he ordered, voice husky. She blinked up at him, dazed, but obeyed, ass up on the couch. He knelt behind, stroking his semi-hard cock back to life along her slick folds. “Ran, I can't... it's too much,” she murmured, but he pushed in anyway, groaning at the messy slide, his cum easing the way.
He fucked her slow at first, savoring the obscene squelch of cum-lubed thrusts. His hands roamed up, gripping her waist, slapping her ass to watch it jiggle, then reaching around to rub her clit. She pushed back, moans muffled into the cushions. “You love it. Say it.” She hesitated, embarrassed at the thought, Ran slapped her ass hard once, twice, until she whimpered, 'I... I love your cock…” That broke him; he sped up, hips snapping, balls slapping her clit until she came again, pussy spasming wildly. His second load built fast, that whine escaping again, a high, needy sound as he chased it. “Gonna breed you, make you forget him.” He murmured, lips close to her neck as he panted.
He buried deep, groaning loudly, cum flooding her once more, staying inside her, his cum overflowing down her thighs. They collapsed together as he held her close, possessive arm around her waist. “Stay the night,” she whispered as he nipped at her ear, the low buzz from her phone now a background noise as texts from her boyfriend are forgotten, his voice muffled in the call…
ꨄ︎ Word Count: 400 words
ꨄ︎ Content Warning: INCEST, smut, unprotected sex, dubious consent/non-consensual undertones(squirming and resistance), threesome, vaginal sex/creampie, anal sex/creampie, oral sex/blow job/ cum swallowing, biting/marking/hickeys, degradation, praise kink w dominance, aftercare and cuddles ♡
next smut: Ran Haitani x Little Sister Reader
"Our little sis looks so cute tonight, doesn't she, Rindou?" Ran purred, his long fingers tracing your jaw before dipping to tug at your shirt. You squirmed, cheeks flushing as he kissed your neck, but your body betrayed you, arching into his lips. Rindou chuckled from your other side, his hand sliding up your thigh, bunching your skirt higher.
Ran's mouth went up to your lips now and crashed onto yours, tongue invading with sweet insistence, while Rindou nipped at your neck, sucking marks that'd bloom like love bites from overeager puppies. You whimpered into the kiss, hands fisting their shirts as they stripped you bare, clothes pooling at your feet.
Rindou hoisted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. His cock, thick and throbbing, pressed against your slick folds. "Gonna fuck you first, sis," he growled, like it was a game, before thrusting in deep. You cried out, the stretch burning sweetly as he pounded into your pussy, hips snapping with brutal rhythm. Each slam made your breasts bounce, and Ran watched, stroking his own hard length, violet eyes locked on where Rindou's shaft disappeared inside you.
"My turn soon," Ran teased, leaning in to capture a nipple between his teeth, biting just hard enough to make you gasp. Rindou's pace quickened, grunting as your walls clenched around him, your cute moans filling the room. "Cum for me, pretty girl," he urged, and you did, shattering with a squeal, juices coating his cock.
He pulled out, cum spilling from you in hot spurts, but Ran was there instantly, flipping you onto all fours. "My turn~," he said with a wink, slamming his longer cock into your ass without mercy. The intrusion made you yelp, but the fullness was addictive, his hands gripping your hips like cherished toys, kneading them. Rindou knelt in front, feeding his still-hard dick past your lips. "Suck."
You obeyed, tongue swirling around his salty length as Ran fucked your tight hole relentlessly, balls slapping against you. Their praises mixed with dirty commands-
"Such a good girl," "Take it all, cutie", pushing you over the edge again. Ran groaned, flooding your ass with his release, while Rindou painted your throat white.
Panting, they pulled you into their laps, cuddling you close, peppering your face with soft kisses. You smiled, sated and adored in their arms. You feel yourself falling into sleep when-
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