I can't really remember how my mc looked like but I don't want to download this game again until they bring valko back (cuz he's the only reason I want to return to lads)
୨୧ — “Hey.” Valko's voice is rough, scratchy, but he's trying for lightness, “You still in there, sweetheart? Or did I fuck you into another dimension?”
“Mmm.”
It's the only response you can manage. Your brain is still offline, your thoughts scattered like leaves in a storm. You feel boneless, liquid, like someone has scooped out your insides and replaced them with warm honey.
“M’good,” you finally manage, the words slurring together, “‘M’really... really good.”
A soft huff escapes him- almost a laugh, edged with disbelief. Valko's palm cups your cheek, thumb brushing a tear track, smearing salt and sweat- and then he really looks at you.
His golden eyes travel slowly down your body.
The bruises blooming on your hips. The red marks circling your wrists. Your cum smeared thighs, your puffy, fucked out hole still weeping his seed onto the already ruined sheets, cunt gaped and swollen from his knot. Body absolutely limp against the mattress, trembling faintly with aftershocks…
The playful smile on his face... falters.
“I…” He swallows hard. His hand hovers over the finger shaped bruises on your hip, not quite touching, like he's afraid to cause more damage. “...I lost control again.”
“S’okay-”
Look at her. Wrecked. Because of me. Because I couldn't- …She's pregnant, the thought slices through him. She's carrying your pups and you still couldn't- you still-
“Valko.” Your hand finds his jaw, weak and trembling but there, “M’okay. Promise.”
He doesn't look convinced, “I should've been more careful. You're-” His gaze drops to your belly, the swell of it unmistakable now. “-you're pregnant. With twins. And I just-”
“Fucked me exactly how I wanted?” You manage a tired smile, “Yeah. Terrible. How dare you.”
A laugh escapes him, “Brat.”
“Hmm~ But I’m your brat.”
His thumb traces your cheekbone, impossibly gentle, “In my defense, you make it really hard to hold back when you beg like that.”
You try to swat at him, but your arm just... flops. Pathetically.
He grins, “Cute.”
"Sh'up."
“Make me.” He leans down, pressing a feather light kiss to your sweaty forehead, “Actually, don't. You can barely move. It wouldn't be a fair fight.” Another kiss, this one to the tip of your nose. “Don't move a muscle, not one. Doctor Valko’s orders.”
“You're not- not a doctor-”
“Hmph, well i’m your personal one tonight.”
He vanishes into the bathroom -click of the light, hiss of running water- before returning with a warm washcloth draped over his shoulder and a glass of water in hand.
“Drink first.” He tips the glass to your lips, patient, waiting while you take small sips.The first swipe of the warm cloth across your cheek is heaven. He works with focused gentleness that steals your absolute breath away- wiping the mascara threatening to stain your cheeks, the pearly streaks from your belly, the slick mess from your inner thighs.
But his movements are almost too careful now. Like you're made of glass. Like he's terrified of breaking you further.
The cloth moves higher, and his expression shifts again- guilt flickering through the warmth as he reaches your collar. The bite mark there has dried, crusted with blood, the perfect imprint of his teeth purpling against your skin.
“Shit.” He winces, dabbing carefully at the wound. “I really did a number on you here, huh?”
“I liked it, felt good~” you mumble.
“Yeah?” A hint of that playful smirk returns. “Liked getting marked up by your big bad wolf?”
Then his gaze falls on something in the corner of the bed, “Oh, perfect.” a silly gift he'd given you months ago that had somehow become a permanent fixture in your shared space. The little stuffed wolf has button eyes and an embroidered smile, and it's quite possibly the most ridiculous thing he's ever purchased.
He loves it. (He loves that you love it.)
“Look who's here,” he says, voice warm and playful as he makes the stuffed wolf bob and weave in front of your nose. “Mr. Wolfie was very concerned. He heard all that screaming and thought something terrible was happening.”
You snort weakly.
Valko pitches his voice higher, making the plush nod sagely. “‘Are you okay?' Mr. Wolfie asks. ‘That big mean wolf wasn't too rough, was he? Should I bite him?’”
“Oh my god-”
“‘I'll protect you,’” Valko continues, completely shameless, pressing the little grey snout against your cheek in a playful kiss, “‘I'm very brave. Very fierce. Grr.’”
The childish gesture is so at odds with the man who just fucked you senseless- who'd knotted you so deep you'd sobbed- that you can't help but giggle. “Valkooo,” you finally manage, pinching his nose weakly, “I'm okay.”
Then you look up at him, one hand drifting to rest on your belly, “We're all okay. All three of us. I promise.”
His ears perk up at that- both standing tall and alert, swiveling toward you like satellite dishes catching the most important signal in the world. Something in his expression cracks open, the playfulness still there (never fully gone, with him) but bleeding into something rawer underneath. Something that looks like home.
He stretches out beside you, gathering your tired body against his chest and tucking Mr. Wolfie securely in your arms. His face nuzzling into your hair, breathing you in like you're the only air worth having.
“All three of you,” he repeats softly. His palm spreads warm over the swell of your belly, right where his pups are growing. “My little pack”
His lips brush your forehead as his tail wraps around your legs and hips like a living blanket, soft fur warming every inch it touches.
“My pups,” he whispers, quiet and wondering, thumb tracing slow circles over your bump. “My beautiful wife. All mine.”
His chin comes to rest atop your head. The tail curls tighter, cocooning you in red softness,
Safe. Loved. His.
When sleep finally pulls you under, it's to the steady thrum of his heartbeat and the soft rumble of some half remembered lullaby hummed against your hair.
☆ cw. . . fem!canine hybrid!reader x enjin, dumbification, praise, fīngering, squirting, mouth inspections, use of 'puppy' and 'pup', enjin calls himself daddy once, jabber's fucked up toxins having a weird side effect
"what's got you all upset at me, huh? why's my lil' pup all riled up?"
"e-enjin, i told you, stop talking to me like that!"
swish, swish, swish!
"oh my god, you can't even lie! look at that tail, such a good girl!"
you did your hardest to crawl out of his lap as he sits on the edge of the bed, the back of your neck burning as you let out a low, embarrassed growl. his praises and laughs just kept coming, cooing as he kept petting all over you just to see your tail wag.
this was weird, so fucking weird.
after an encounter with that masochistic freak with who wouldn't stop whining about accidentally injecting you with the wrong thing as he was essentially dragged away by someone on his team, you've been stuck with...this.
a long, fluffy tail that seemed to have a mind of it's own with a matching pair of fluffy ears at the top of your head, and this annoying blond loser who wouldn't stop talking to you like you were an actual dog.
his teasing was just making you more and more flustered, more embarrassed before suddenly something inside of you couldn't take all of the warmth swirling inside of you—
"ow, fuck!"
he yanked his fingers back from where he was pinching your cheek, looking at them with furrowed brows. you...bit him. you didn't even realize you had snapped forward, nipping him right on his finger tips.
"did...did you just bite me?"
the reaction is instant.
"'m sorry, 'm sorry, i-i didn't mean it!" you scrambled, popping his fingers in your mouth as you let out a long whine, a sudden fear washing over you, a fear that you truly haven't ever felt before. little tears pricked the corner of your eyes. "a-am i bad? 'm sorry, jin, i-i didn't mean it, 'm bad..."
hearing you slur your words against his fingers while your tongue dragged over the bite, feeling how sharp your canines are now, seeing how your tail stopped wagging and your ears flattened against your head...it's almost too much, you're too fucking precious.
but hearing you sound truly sad, truly heartbroken that you hurt him, that you made him upset, it's new, it's not you, you're usually cocky and smug when you mark him.
you truly look like a kicked puppy.
he can't have that, not when his pretty girl is tearing up in his lap, whining as you try to soothe the wound with that warm tongue.
"say it again, baby."
"i...i-i'm your good puppy, 'm a good girl," you slur around his thick fingers. tears are pouring down your hot cheeks as you sit on enjin's lap with your back against his chest, clothes discarded somewhere on the floor.
the room swirls around you, so dizzy and drunk from the pleasure assaulting your senses. his fingers slide in and out from your cunt, ilicting wet, sloppy noises as he literally scoops slick from your pussy to rub mean circles into your clit.
you feel the need to squirm away, but your body feels so heavy, like you know if you move, you'll get scolded, and...for some reason, the thought makes you whine, hips trying to grind into his hand.
"that's my girl, taking it just like she needs to," enjin coos into your ear, teasingly nipping at it tjust o watch how it flinches away. they're so sensitive, just blowing against it makes you violently squeeze down on his fingers. "pretty puppy just needed her jin to show her how cute she is, yeah?"
you can barely form words, moaning around the digits in your mouth that keep running over your teeth. he's uncaring about the drool that drips down his wrist as he traces over your sharp canines again, the same ones that got you in this position.
he hums, dipping his other fingers back inside your pussy just to hear that relieved moan. "never call yourself bad again, baby, that shit broke my heart. seein' you all sad, all puppy eyes, and, god, the way your ears got all sad and droopy...don't do that to me baby, makes a man weak."
he pulls his fingers out of your mouth, trailing his wet hand down your chest to the soft pudge of your tummy before meanly pressing down right above your pussy.
"i don't want a sad puppy, okay? i want a happy, dumb lil' pup...just like this."
his fingers immediately speed up, curling up to hit that spot that makes you wail his name and dig your hands into him forearms. mm, even your nails feel a bit sharper, the press of them against his skin making him his and grind up into you.
"j-jin, enjin, j-jinnn," is all you can get out, eyes wide as you watch him pop in a third finger, stretching you out to the point your eyes roll back. "o-ohmygodd, mmhhfuck!"
"don't cum, don't cum yet," he pleads into your ear, panting as he works his fingers in and out of you and letting out a deep groan when he sees your creaming on him, a nice frothy ring of it accumulating at the base of his fingers.
but you aren't listening, too empty brained to focus on that. all you can think of in your poor, dumb little brain is 'cum, he's making you feel good, gotta cum, show him 'm good, show him that he makes me feel good/'
"mm-mm, baby, don't," is the warning you get when you try to touch your clit, hands shaking as they creep down lower. "you wanna be a good girl for me, riiiight?"
the nod you give him is aggressive, he can't help but chuckle at little. you're so honest, you aren't as bratty as you usually are. whatever that freaky little scientist injected you with turned you into the cutest little submissive pile of mush for him and he was loving it.
"then let me work, puppy, 'm gonna make you squirt for me, okay? think you can do that? oh, who am i kidding..."
a firm slap to your cunt has you gasping, eyes squeezing shut from holding back your orgasm, before a strangled noise escaped your throat when his fingers pop right back in and get to that same speed that was driving you mad.
"of course you can, you're my good girl."
that has you squeezing him tight, eyes rolling back at the thought. you've done it before, but hearing him say it always makes that heat in your stomach grow hotter. he's such a perv.
but he's been going on for so long, holding back feels like torture...until something starts to spread all throughout your body. a warm that feels like it's burning you, feeling it in the tips of your fingers, and reaching your head.
"aww, theeere she is..."
enjin can feel how you trembling against him, body tensing in his lap as that unbearable pleasure starts to wash over you, your breaking point not too far away. the hazy away look in your eye, the way your mouth hangs open in uncontrollable moans...you look so, so pretty.
but then you start get squirmy and he can already tell you're going to try and run from it, his hand pressing harder on your tummy to keep you still so you can't do anything but take it. after all, he knows just what you need and he's going to give it to you.
"c-cum, 'm gonna cum, jin, too much, c-can't—!"
"shh, yes you can baby, c'mon, don't fight it, give it to me."
you're curling forward as you sob, begging him to wait, to give you a second, but then the hand on your stomach moves to your throat and pulls you back against him, giving a squeeze and his deep voice is practically growling in your ear.
"don't you wanna be good for me? cum, baby, soak my fucking fingers like a good little puppy."
that's all it takes. his little praise, the mean press of his fingers, it's all too much and you explode. you arch against him, practically screaming out his name as you cum, and you cum hard. his fingers are practically forced out of you as you squirt, a wet spray of your fluids shooting out and soaking his hand.
without hesitation, he's working at your clit, swiping it side to side to prolong your orgasm. you look so cute, so fucking adorable like this, trembling against him as you just chant his name over and over again.
tears are pouring down your face as you hiccup, another thick gush pouring out of you and all over his hand and sweatpants, soaking him entirely. you don't realize that you're babbling his name over and over again, chanting 'love you's and 'thank you's over and over again before finally letting out a huff and going limp in his lap.
it's fuzzy, everything feels light and floaty. you can barely process the soft kisses being presses against your face, little murmurs of...something in your ear. whatever it is, your subconscious likes it, because you can feel your tail wagging behind you. he must have turned you around in his lap while you were out of it to hold you to his chest...the realization makes you feel even floatier.
once you finally come up, you can hear it better, enjin's voice no longer sounding like it was underwater.
"such a good girl for me."
"my pretty pup's got some teeth on her."
"see? you're not bad at all, just needed some praise."
"if you would've waited, i would've told you i liked when you bit me."
a little grumble as you hide your face in his chest lets him know your back with him, his hand gently rubbing up and down the skin of your back.
"hi, baby."
"mmpph..."
enjin can't help but chuckle at that. still shy, it seems. he understands, continuing his soothing movements and tracing your spine.
"you feeling alright," he asks, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head. he has to "lost you for a second there baby. i didn't do too much, right?"
it takes a moment for you to learn how to speak again, but you just nod. "no, 'm okay. felt good...t-thank you." you let yourself collect your thoughts, still a bit fuzzy brained from that overwhelming orgasm. your still throbbing, and you can't tell if that means you want more or not.
a moment goes by and it's quiet as he continues to...to...
you immediately sit up, face turned into absolute embarrassment and horror as your brain clicks into place what he's doing.
"are you petting me?!"
he just responds with a big grin before trailing his hand down your back. "maybe i am. wanna see something i learned while i was?" he doesn't even let you respond, your mouth opening before he rubs his fingers around the skin where the base of the tail is and you let out the cutest little whine, arching your back to get more pressure before you catch yourself.
"now ain't that cute?"
"e-enjinnn!"
you try to scramble out of his lap, shrieking about what a pervert he is, how mean he is for teasing, but he just cackles, standing up to turn and toss you onto the bed. "yeah, yeah i know, i'm mean, i'm the worse, but..."
he climbs on the bed after you, savoring the way your ears perk up in alert. in a quick motion, his shirt is off, grinning at your eyes immediately snapping to his hypnotic, tattooed skin. you can't stop the whimper that forces its way out of your throat when he crawls over top of you, a hand palming himself through his sweats that you desperately wish he would take off sooner.
"don't you wanna see how that'll feel if i fuck you from behind, pup? c'mon, lemme play with my pretty puppy a little more before you go back to normal."
"AND IF YA LET EM HIT FOR FREE—U HELLA DUMB-DA-DUMB-DUMB!"
✺ 9-Part Series ┆ Part 2 ✺
summary.it’s a good thing you’re 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐝!𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮’s favorite—anyone else would’ve been handled by now. but instead of taking these sacks to the face like a good girl, you let that slick mouth land you in a 420 wager with a kingpin. think you can actually deliver? well you better get to hustlin’, bunny.
cw. 𝓶𝓭𝓷𝓲. college au. jjk men x plug!reader. smut. bimbo!reader. reader is for the ~streets~. drugs. reader pet names: bunny. age gaps. inappropriate relationships. very casual sex and situationships. this part: brat taming, mating press, nasty suguru, high sex, piv, drug mentions. [wc: 5.2K]
an. happy new years babes! hope you enjoy this series!
[art creds: FNF87 & Kuro Gal a La Carte]
Plug!Reader who never leaves Druglord!Suguru’s warehouse with just a backpack full of weed—he always makes sure you're stuffed with something extra, too.
You know the drill by now, it’s practically ritual—the entrance through the back alley, the silent nod from whoever’s working the door, the walk through the warehouse straight to Suguru.
Druglord!Suguru whose aesthetic screams he not only runs this city, but the whole damn world—black button-down pressed to perfection, sleeves rolled to the elbow to show off the twin snake tattoos coiled around his forearms and a thick icy white-gold cuban link around is neck. He’s seated calmly at a steel table, double-checking the weight of some white powder you’re never allowed to touch, much less move.
His sharp eyes flick up, smirking like he’s surprised to see you—even though you show up at the same time every week.
Still, Suguru always makes time for his Bunny. Always offers to smoke you out.
Because of course he does.
You’re his favorite lil’ drug runner, after all.
Suguru leads you deeper into the warehouse, past humming money counters and more cutting tables, before the two of you start climbing the metal stairs—your short pleated cheer skirt swaying, varsity hoodie bunched at your waist, like this is just some campus field trip and not a weekly pickup worth a few grand in green.
Upstairs is part narco showroom, part luxury trap house.
Stainless steel counters gleam under spotlight strips. Vacuum-sealed bricks stacked with military precision. Rows of jars and labeled containers.
A fully stocked bar. Pool table. Card table.
And smack in the middle of it all: a California king bed with black satin sheets—bold enough to face a 90-inch TV with surround sound, like Suguru’s ever had to bother with the ‘Netflix’ part before getting to the ‘chill.’
Likewise, Suguru doesn’t have to say a word.
You already know where to go.
However, Suguru always gives you a choice.
While he’s loading up your bag, you can sit at the bar if you’re not down—he’ll even toss you a nug for the road, no questions asked.
But you always choose the bed anyway. Crossing the room to sit, legs folded all pretty-like, expression bored—like you’re counting down the minutes until you can leave. Pretending you’re not playing by his rules and you wouldn’t uncross your legs for him with a mere look.
Like you have no idea what’s coming next.
You do.
It’s all part of the game.
What isn’t a game, though, is the intensity of the bong hit you just took when Suguru finally returns—tossing your bag aside and dropping onto the bed beside you.
It always feels like a truck slammed into your lungs, the sear promising an even bigger high. Like clockwork, one pull and you’re already melting into the sheets. Your body thrums, your vision softens at the edges, breath ragged from coughing.
Suguru’s shit always has that effect, potent and paralyzing. He’s the best, and the only, distributor in the area for that reason.
And still?
It holds no candle to the high you get off Suguru’s cock.
You tell yourself this time, like you do everytime—that this is the last time—the last hit, the last fuck, the last time you let him put you on your back and rearrange your guts like you’re some little plushie toy he can press into shape.
That you’d be stronger this time and resist falling-in even deeper with the kingpin.
“HAH—Fucccck! S-Sugu!”
Oopsie.
Welp—too late now.
Because right now?
You’re ass naked in Suguru’s inky sheets while he looms over you, folding you like origami into the filthiest mating press known to man—ass lifted, tits pressed into your ribs, knees brushing your ears.
Toes scrabble uselessly at the sheets bunched near your head, hands digging into your own thighs for leverage, though all that really does is hold you open. Exposed, twitching and helpless Suguru molds your body like you were made for this: to be split open and gasping underneath him.
Druglord!Suguru who grins wickedly—sweat trailing down his inked throat as his Cuban link swings and gleams above you, catching the light with every thrust.
“NGHH...FUH!”
Your moans spill out in broken little gasps—barely even words now—just pathetic noises from the way Suguru’s fucking you stupid, each ruthless clap of his hips knocking the little sense you do have right out of you.
Thank fuck for pilates and cheer—otherwise, your spine would’ve snapped in two by now.
Even so, the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely is the weed flooding your system—your high rolling in thick and heavy.
Your muscles melt into warm goo, sparking your hypersensitive skin like a tripwire. Every shift of air sends shivers skating down your spine, each one crashing into the next.
Your eyes are punched so deep into their sockets—like the rest of your guts—you certainly wouldn't see it if something did snap under the force of Suguru’s hips slamming into you.
Suguru knows your body too well by now—knows exactly what strain to lace your lungs with. The kind of indica that drapes you in heat and keeps you pinned, helpless, while every deep drag of his cock lights you up from the inside out.
Even high himself, Suguru moves like someone vibrating on another plane of existence. The sativa blazing through him like a current only sharpens his focus to an unnatural degree. His movements are too clean, each penetrating thrust calculated—like he’s studying the way your pussy squeezes around him each time just so he could ruin it better with the next thrust.
That’s why the very second your body starts adjusting to the rhythm?
Suguru changes it. He always does.
One moment he’s pounding into you like he’s trying to fuck through the mattress—and the next, he’s grinding lazy, maddening circles deep in your cunt. The head of his cock, dragging heavy against your walls, rolls up to lodge next to your womb in a brutal wave that crests with the nastiest smooch onto the opening of your cervix.
No matter the pace though, you’re still left gasping for air.
Suguru’s so deep, it feels like he’s fucking into your throat.
Wait—or maybe that’s just the phantom sensations from earlier when he nested himself in your throat, the throb of his girth still haunting your vocal cords.
Hard to tell anymore.
Of course, none of it would be half as overwhelming if Suguru wasn't so psychotically entrapping you with soul-piercing, unblinking eye contact—like he’s sadistically savoring every second of you unraveling on his cock.
The sheer intensity of fucking the druglord while high would be terrifying… if it wasn’t such a goddamn turn-on in itself.
He always fucks you with the desperation of a man getting his last taste of pussy before a 30-year RICO sentence.
“Fuckin’ s'tight, fuck!” Suguru growls, his sultry voice dripping heat straight into your core.
Every prominent vein of his cock carves itself along your walls, mapping out the trail of your utter ruin.
“Takin’ me so well pretty girl—always coming back to Daddy—begging me for more…cause Daddy knows just the way she likes it, yes?”
You try to answer but all that comes out is a thin, pitiful whine. It's all too much—from how hard Suguru’s grip is bruising your ankles, half-crescents digging into your soft flesh—to his balls sharply smacking into your ass, bouncing droplets off onto the sheets with every thrust.
“What’s that? You like how I fuck you?”
Is he serious!? Was that supposed to be a rhetorical question?!?!
“S-Suuuu—guu-rgh!”
You barely manage even that, choking on your own moans. You’re down to single syllables now.
Suguru leans in, pace not slowing for a second, as he breathes warm puffs against your cheek before licking a drop of sweat off your skin—the sweat he dragged out of you.
Suguru’s the one doing all the work, but your body feels completely wrung out from the mere effort of taking it. Every single muscle in your body trembles under the fury of his cock.
“Shhhhh, Bunny.”
You’d talked out of turn and you didn’t even realize it.
Suguru doesn’t allow insubordination but he’s satisfied given the utterly ruined state you’re in nonetheless.
It's his doing after all.
“Me and this pretty pussy are talking now, baby. You know better than to interrupt Daddy when he’s handling business.”
And right now? She is the business.
Your pussy finally speaks up, she's doing all the talking now—gripping him tight like she knows the filth’s for her. Every wet suck and squelch gets louder, messier, needier—like she’s desperate to make a sloppy little scene just to keep him happy.
You know Suguru’s close too when that iron control of his starts to slip—just barely, but enough to feel it.
His stare falters, his cock gives a dangerous twitch and his thrusts stutter as he tries to keep from busting right then and there. He groans low, jaw clenched, like he’s trying to fuck the orgasm back down into his balls so he can ruin you for even longer.
“That right, pretty pussy, tell me more.”
You don’t have to though, he can already feel it.
“Tell Daddy more about how good his cock makes his lil’ stoner slut feel.”
Suguru breathes out a dark chuckle when you seize around him, licking lazily across your swollen, spit-slick lips—right before he slams into you again with a brutal thrust that punches the air from your lungs.
Your head spins. You’re too folded up to breathe deep, thighs cramping from how long he’s had you bent in half, ribcage crushed under your own legs.
Whatever scraps of sanity you had left are long gone. You can’t even hold back your cries now—not that you’re trying. The whole damn warehouse could probably hear the way he’s wrecking your poor little cunt. Not that it matters.
They’ve heard it all before.
Just another weekly reminder of exactly who this pussy belongs to.
“Hnnnngh!”
The next brutal smack of your bodies colliding finally pushes you over the edge.
Everything fractures—sound, light, the entire room blurring into searing white heat as euphoria floods your system. Your body trembles violently as your orgasm surges like a tidal wave before crashing, dragging you under to drown in overstimulated ecstasy.
Desperate to ground yourself, your hands reach blindly, tangling in Suguru’s sweat-slick hair. Raven strands cling to your knuckles as you fist the back of his scalp and yank him into you—lips crashing against his.
The tug of your fingers, the bittersweet taste of your tongue—still tinged with the spunk he so generously fed you earlier—and the way your gooey core is practically melting his cock off... it’s all enough to finally send him over the edge.
With a deep, heady growl, Suguru breaks the kiss, spilling inside you. Thick pulses of heat flood your cunt, his cock twitching as he empties dredges of cum inside you in slow, aching spurts.
Suguru doesn’t pull out right away. He just stays there—buried deep—forehead pressed to yours, breath mingling, cock lazily sloshing in the mess he made of your guts.
His gaze stays fixed on you, unbroken, savoring the way you melt for him as his hands knead your jelly‑soft legs, patiently working the feeling back into them and he gently unfolds you.
When Suguru finally pulls out, he collapses beside you with a grunt, chest rising and falling in quick, heavy breaths. One arm slings across your waist—like it’s the only thing anchoring him to the earth.
Your highs have neither of you moving for any immediate aftercare, that all could wait.
A small sated sigh leaves you summon enough will to drag the previously discarded sheet over your shoulders like you just survived something heroic. Which, honestly, you kinda did. Your hips are definitely going to hate you at cheer practice later.
But that was a future you problem.
Nuzzling against Suguru, you release a sigh that’s half purr, half yawn. Ready to get some well earned zzz’s.
High-after-sex naps really are the best.
You're just starting to drift when—
“I know you aren’t trying to nap when you know you have class in an hour, Bunny—Get up.”
Suguru’s unimpressed tone slices through your haze, denying you your sleep.
You groan and roll your eyes under your lids, not bothering to open them. Your first instinct is to be a brat about it—but honey always works better than vinegar.
Time for plan B.
Whimpering sweetly and clinging to Suguru tighter, you bury your face in his chest with a dramatic little pout.
“Are you tired of me already?” you mumble, voice muffled. “Tryna kick me out before your next cheerleader plug gets here, Sugu?”
You tilt your face up to look at him, batting your lashes with your best doe-eyed look—even if your eyes are still bloodshot.
But Suguru isn’t moved by your tricks.
“Nah, never, Bunny. I only have the patience for one bratty slut—I’m just not tryna be responsible for you flunking out.”
Urgh.
You fling the sheets over your head, refusing to move.
Okay… so maybe you have been skipping one too many classes.
And maybe Suguru is the main reason you’re currently dragging a C in Biology.
And normally, he wouldn’t give a fuck. He doesn’t typically micromanage your life, so long as it doesn’t interfere with his.
But you’d made the dumbass mistake of letting him see your text to a friend about failing a couple midterms. Ever since then, he’s been on your ass about school—threatening to withhold dick, even dangling your plug status, like it’s some academic award for good performance.
Which you can’t even tell him to fuck off over either.
Why?
Well, the gag is it's Druglord!Suguru whose the one paying for your entire tuition in the first place.
Ever since you helped patch him up one day (he was walking around with a shallow stab wound and refused to go to the hospital), he said you had a knack for it and wanted you to be his personal nurse. Telling you to switch your sociology major to nursing and he'd pay for it all—back loans too.
You’d laughed at first, but he wasn’t joking.
Apparently, he’s got Shoko as a doctor on call, but she refuses to get involved in his cartel shit unless he’s literally on death’s door.
So now you’re his backup plan—his personal on-call plug-nurse-situationship.
“Don’t wanna! Today isn’t even a lab. It’s just a dumb lecture. I can catch the recording ya know!” you whine petulantly.
Especially after how hard he just fucked you.
Suguru’s bed is warm, the weed is still swirling in your system, and your body feels like it was steamrolled. Even if you wanted to move… yeah.
No.
Not happening.
But Suguru doesn’t give two shiny fucks about your excuses. He answers you with a stinging smack across your already sore hips.
“FUCK—ow, Sugu! Quit it!”
You finally uncover your head, a bratty frown on your lips—though it melts quickly into something a little more sultry as you kiss his chest, lips brushing the faded ink on his sternum.
In a last ditch effort, your fingers drift lower, feather-light down the ridges of his abs. You feel them flex under your touch. He’s still high, still sensitive. You know damn well what your hands can do to him right now.
“Mmmmm, but Daddyyy,” you coo, tongue flicking up his neck to his lips, peppering kisses over the hard line of his mouth. “...You could teach me way more about biology right here.”
You start to slide lower, determined to make your case.
When Suguru suddenly sits up, firm and unbothered. He peels you off of him with all the effort it takes to brush lint off a jacket.
And then comes the look. The Scarface one.
Motherfuck.
Yeah… you’re not winning this.
That doesn't mean you have to like it though.
You let out a huffy little breath, arms crossing tight under your chest.
“Fine. I’ll go,” you grumble, already pouting. “...But I’m not going sober.”
You toss him a side glance, defiant to the end. “You still got some of that special Sour Diesel? Roll me a few for the walk back to campus since you wanna kick me out so bad.”
Suguru shakes his head with a chuckle—of course his spoiled little Bunny had the nerve to ask for some of his personal stash, grown by his own hands in his private hothouse, like it was nothing.
“Yeah, sure Bun…”
Suguru swings his legs off the bed and reaches for his slacks, pulling them on. There’s a smirk tugging at his mouth when he looks back at you.
“Though, not like I don’t already give you enough of my shit for free—but yeah. If it gets your bratty ass to class? I’ll roll the good shit.”
Pause.
For free?
Did this man say for free?!
He could at least have the decency to give you a few premium joints for the road if he was going to fuck all the feeling out of your legs. How exactly were you supposed to walk to class like this?
Heated, before Suguru could even stand up straight, you grab him and yank him back onto the bed.
“Oh, and just what the hell is that supposed to mean?” you screech.
Climbing onto his lap, your palm lays flat against his chest, glaring down at him like you’re ready to square up, deadly druglord be damned.
“Like a recovery joint after you fucked my legs numb isn’t a fair trade?!””
Suguru laughs outright, deep and amused, clearly enjoying how fired up you are.
He looks at you like a smug owner eyeing his favorite bratty kitten, giving your bare ass a few soft, patronizing pats that only fuels your fire.
Suguru really can’t believe how clueless you are sometimes—but then again, he didn’t start fucking you for your brains—as a testament to your slipping grades.
But Suguru’s smart enough not to say that out loud—unless he wanted you to swing on him for real.
Which would only end one way: him having to fuck the brat out of you all over again. And clearly, judging by that mouth on you—he didn’t do a thorough enough job the first time.
If it came to that? Yeah, you definitely wouldn’t be making it to class.
Not for the rest of the week at least.
“It means,” Suguru says calmly, arms sliding around your waist, “that you’re lucky that sweet lil’ pussy of yours grips like Harambe did the kid.”
Gagged, your entire face falls flat.
“Otherwise,” he continues easily, “I wouldn’t be lettin’ a bratty stoner bunny like you smoke up all the product you’re supposed to be sellin’.”
“Geto Suguru!” you snap, using his full government as you push away from him to cross your arms.
“Are you actually fucking serious right now?!”
Suguru's grin widens. “As a heart-attack.”
Pulling you back to him, his hands settle on your hips as his eyes flit over you with that patronizing, sexy smolder that makes it really hard to stay mad.
You have to actively remind yourself not to kiss him. Not to let this slide and immediately fold.
Because sure, you like to light one up as much as the next stressed out college student.
And maybe—just maybe—you skim a little off the top now and then. Just a nug here, a gram there. Nothing major.
BUT—you always sell, like… 99.9% of the shit he gives you.
No way the big-time narco god, Geto Suguru, is seriously tripping over some kief crumbs.
“Bunny, baby,” Suguru drawls, “you’re always coming back with a lighter stack. You seriously think I don’t count my money? Even from you?”
Bristling you chew your lip. Suguru’s tone is amused but there's a threat simmering underneath.
Your jaw tightens, mind racing over the possibilities of what he could be talking about.
Okay… so being 100% real, maybe you weren't really counting things like you should be and a few bills disappeared. It’s not like you were pocketing it for yourself!
The real problem is that Suguru’s a major hardass about zero-digital footprints.
No Venmo. No Cash App. No exceptions.
Which leaves you hauling around wads of sweaty crumpled bills thick enough to shame a stripper.
“That’s the point,” he’d once said, smirking. “Stripping’s the perfect cover for a pretty lil’ bimbo like you if you ever get stopped.”
Please. As if you’d ever get caught.
No one ever suspects the bubbly cheerleader to be a walking dispensary.
Perfectly discreet.
And the math… well. Math’s never really been your strong suit, which is just all the more reason Suguru should let you be the exception!
“Business that bad, Suguru?” you say, with sass as you attempt to push him away for good this time and get up.
You’re so done with this conversation.
“Didn’t know you’d get so twisted over a couple missing twenties.”
Unfortunately—Suguru’s not done yet, not by a long shot.
His arms tighten around you, fast as solid muscle locks you in. Suguru hauls you against his chest, squeezing right to the point before it actually starts hurting you for real, making you look up at him.
His mask slips just enough to show something colder underneath, something far dangerous he tries to keep hidden from you.
Your stomach sinks. No wonder he thinks you’re smoking up his supply instead of selling it. You’d almost rather he think that you were some ditzy pothead than assume you’re skimming cash on purpose.
You know what he does to the people who cross him.
You knew better. And so did he. You didn’t need to steal anyway—you had his black card, and you could fuck nearly anything else out of him, if you really wanted it.
“You’re fuckin’ up my books, lil’ stoner Bunny…”
Your attention snaps back to Suguru, and for a split second the dangerous glint in his eyes sends a chill down your spine.
But just as fast—it’s gone. Like it was never there. The storm clears on command, the kind of break-neck control that always makes you wonder how an actual human could manage.
The heaviness in the room lightens instantly as Suguru releases his hold on you, hands returning to the bed as he cocks his head with a chuckle, returning to his laid back charm.
“But like I said.” Suguru muses, “I like you. And that crazy wet cunt of yours. S’all good, Bunny. We’re straight.”
His fingers stroke the top of your head, petting you like he didn’t just threaten you a breath ago. You tense at first, still reeling from his Jekyll and Hyde routine.
But Suguru just laughs, pressing a kiss to your cheek, all warmth and indulgence—like a man reassuring his favorite pet after a scolding.
“I stopped counting your numbers toward quota a long time ago anyway,” he adds with a shrug. “Business is good—so I can afford to let you play around with a few stacks every month.”
Your pride flares instantly, though your voice comes out smaller than usual, your hurt apparent.
“Play around?” you pout. “You act like I’m just some bimbo with a backpack, Suguru. I run that campus for you!"
“That you do, Bun,” Suguru says, hiding his smirk behind a look of appeasement.
He doesn’t bother explaining the full picture.
You don’t need to know he’s got other runners tucked around the outer edges of campus. You couldn’t cover the whole university alone, even if you tried.
But Greek life, athletics, student dorms, even the occasional high-ranking faculty? Those are your zones.
Suguru didn’t put you there by accident. He knows discretion when he sees it. Knows a cute bubbly cheerleader with lashes and lip gloss could move more product through a frat house than five sketchy dealers in hoodies ever could.
Still, he can’t resist the adorable little pout on your lips now. You’re sulking—genuinely surprised you came up that short, so naive, that’s why he has to watch out for you like he does.
Suguru presses a second kiss, this one to your forehead, before pulling his discarded button-down over your head.
You melt automatically, arms around his neck, cheek against his shoulder as he stands, your legs hooking loosely around his waist for balance.
“Aw, don’t pout, princess,” he murmurs, rubbing slow circles into your lower back. “You know I’d never lie to you—and the truth could never be a diss.”
Well, Suguru wouldn’t tell you a flat out lie.
He absolutely lies by omission though, withholding plenty of information from you for your own safety—and plausible deniability.
Sniffing petulantly, you can’t say he’s wrong. But you've never been the type to take an L quietly.
With you securely in his arms, Suguru walks you to the steel table near the edge of the loft. The surface of the cold industrial table bites at the bare skin of your thighs as he sets you down. You suck air through your teeth, adjusting the hem of his oversized button-down—practically a dress on you—as your legs swing lightly off the edge.
The air is thick with weed, tobacco, the warm cling of sweat from earlier as Suguru gets to work. You're lost in thought as you hear the dull scrape of metal as Suguru opens the grinder, the slow, unhurried thnk-thnk-thnk as he twists it.
He rolls like he fucks—with just enough arrogance to remind you he’s the best at it—and everything else he does.
Suguru doesn’t look at you, but he feels the tension in the silence regardless.
However he is happy to let you stew.
And you do—chewing at your bottom lip and twisting the hem of his shirt around your finger, fuming in your seat.
Letting him scold you was one thing.
But calling your business playtime?!
Like you’re not out there moving serious weight between dorms, frat parties, and half the athletic department?
You know he doesn’t expect you to pay him back for the stacks you’ve supposedly gone “light” on.
You wouldn’t even be breathing right now if that was the case.
But it's his cockiness and the utter arrogance of it all has you still heated.
You shift your gaze, “Say Suguru.. if I wanted to square up…”
Cigarette between his lips, Suguru glances at you through his lashes but says nothing and keeps rolling.
“…what would it take?”
He exhales, the smoke curling from his lips like a warning of his waning patience.
“Don’t start, Bunny.”
Pushing down the urge to recoil, you turn to face him defiantly, both hands landing on the hard metal table, heel nudging his thigh.
“So...six grand sound fair, Boss?”
Suguru's hands pause mid-roll, head tilting just enough to glance at you over his shoulder. One brow lifts slowly.
Then Suguru snorts, the low rasp of it wrapped around a cocky grin.
“You barely bring back two on a good week. Don’t tell me you’re planning on slanging ass behind the sciences building now?”
You resist the urge to roll your eyes, looking at him with the best serious look you can muster, trying to emulate him.
It’s a piss poor attempt that only has Suguru snickering as he ashes his cigarette and turns to you. in appraisal.
“Not that I don’t think the goods would sell, Bun—”
Suguru pats your leg with a lecherous grin.
”—but I'm known for pushing narcotics, not pussy—and I'd like to keep it that way”
Returning to his task, he licks the edge of the paper and rolls, dropping the finished joint into a baggie before moving onto the next.
You close your eyes and take a deep exhale. Yoga breaths, inner peace and namaste, girl—do not take the bait! You know he wants you to mouth off so he can end this, but you won’t play by his rules this time.
You press on, too stubborn to just let it go.
“It’s 4/20 this Sunday, ya know! People are desperate, Sugu! I could charge double, easy—I’ll bring in six.” You lift your chin in confidence. “Three for the product, three extra—to pay back what I owe.”
Suguru leans back on his stool, arms crossed. The cigarette returns to dangle from his lips.
His eyes roam your face, reading every defiant flicker in it. You're just as stubborn as he is.
Head tipped in consideration, Suguru raises a brow. “And you’re serious?”
“As a heart-attack.”
You simper, throwing his words back at him, invigorated by the opportunity to prove yourself and prove Suguru wrong.
Touché, Suguru thinks, humming. He knows you won’t let it go—and it’s his fault for starting it in the first place.
There’s a brief silence before he exhales deeply, smoke blowing out of his nose as he's come to a decision.
“Alright,” Suguru says, exhaling. “Bet.”
“However…” Suguru's eyes thin into slits, “no selling off-campus.”
“Yup.” You nod.
“No digital payments.”
“Duh, Sugu.”
“And..” Suguru starts with a grin “No help from your little stoner boyfriend.”
You blink, frowning. Suguru knew he didn’t have you locked down by any means but he’d never actually brought up you seeing other guys before.
“Which ones?” you say flippantly, testing him.
He smirks. “Exactly.”
You roll your eyes, but you're smug despite yourself. The thrill of the bet is already stamped across your face—you’re already anticipating victory.
Suguru shakes his head with a smirk and tosses a baggie across the table. A half-dozen joints, wrapped in your favorite pink papers.
“Good luck, Bunny.”
His smile lingers, but his eyes darken just slightly.
“You’re gonna need it.”
You move to hop off the counter—only for his hand to stop you. Suguru grips high on your inner thigh, still moist with his seed.
“But if you come up short again, Bunny…” There’s a darkness surrounding his words, spoken like a true druglord. “If I don’t have my money by 4/20...”
Your breath stills.
"...then you'll really owe me."
Suguru's mouth curves again, all lazy menace. "I’ve got something in mind too... just been waiting for the right time to get you to do it.”
Before your thoughts can spiral, Suguru shifts again—smooth as ever.
He leans in to kiss your thigh, ash falling from his cigarette with the motion.
“But if you win…” He shrugs with mock-casualness. “I’ll use that extra three grand to get you something nice. Maybe a few Agent Provocateur sets.”
Your eyes light up. “Forreal!?”
Suguru nods. He doubts you’ll make it—hell would probably have to freeze over—but he’s been wanting something from you for a while.
This is just the perfect way to collect on that.
You scoop the ziplock bag as Suguru finally lets you hop off the table and get dressed.
Just a few extra racks. That’s all it’d take.
Then Suguru would see. You weren’t just a warm hole and a pretty face.
You are just as much about your fucking business as he is.
NSFW. boyfriend!satoru just can’t stop playing with your tits
The very first time you slept with Satoru, you immediately knew he was a certified tit guy.
He’d spent what felt like forever massaging them, sucking on your nipples, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh—completely lost in it—while you were practically throbbing and dying for him to finally fuck you.
Two years later, nothing had changed. If anything, he’d only gotten worse.
He touched them every single chance he got: insisting on showering together just so he could lather your breasts with slippery soap and play with them under the hot water, absentmindedly teasing your nipples when he slung an arm around your shoulders on the couch, and even sucking melted ice cream straight off them like it was the most natural thing in the world.
But your ovulation week? That was his absolute favorite.
Your tits always swelled up—rounder, heavier, impossibly more sensitive. And today was one of those days.
It was stupidly hot, so you’d skipped the bra entirely and thrown on your usual lazy outfit at home: tiny sleep shorts and a thin, loose tank top with spaghetti straps.
You hadn’t thought twice about it… until you felt Satoru’s gaze burning into you.
“Fuck,” he breathed, mouth hanging open, eyes glued to your chest. “They’re practically spilling out over the edge of that little top, baby.”
Before you could even respond, he closed the distance in five long strides. One large hand settled possessively on your waist, pulling you flush against him, while the other boldly traced slow, reverent circles over the full, heavy curve of your breast.
“Goddamn,” he muttered, voice already husky. “Look at you. So fucking full today.”
His thumb brushed over your nipple through the thin fabric, and it stiffened instantly, sending a sharp jolt of heat straight between your legs. A low, satisfied sound rumbled in his chest.
He didn’t wait for permission. He never really did when it came to your tits. In one smooth motion, he tugged the strap of your tank top down your shoulder, freeing one breast completely. The cool air hit your heated skin, making your nipple tighten even more.
Satoru’s eyes darkened with hunger.
He leaned in and dragged the flat of his tongue over it slowly, savoring the way you shivered. Then he latched on, sucking greedily while his hand continued kneading the soft, overflowing flesh of your other breast.
You could feel how hard he already was against your stomach
He pulled back just enough to speak, lips glistening, voice wrecked. “C’mere. I need both of them in my mouth.”
Without warning, he scooped you up like you weighed nothing and carried you to the couch, dropping down with you straddling his lap. He yanked the other strap down, fully exposing your chest, and buried his face between your tits with a deep, contented groan.
His hands never stopped moving—squeezing, pushing them together, thumbs flicking over your sensitive peaks as he alternated between sucking and licking like a man starved.
You were getting so turned on watching him play with your tits that you didn’t think twice. You slid off his lap, dropped to your knees in front of him, and eagerly pulled his pants down just enough to free his cock. It sprang out, hard and flushed, already glistening at the tip. The sight made your mouth water.
You could feel yourself getting wetter by the second, your body burning with need, the heat intensified by your ovulation.
“Oh god, you’re gonna spoil me rotten baby” he said softly, almost in awe as you pressed your swollen tits around his length.
You pushed them together tightly, enveloping him in soft, warm flesh. Then, looking up at him, you parted your lips and let your tongue hang out obediently, waiting.
“Fuck— that’s it,” he moaned, eyes darkening. “Such a good girl.”
He started thrusting slowly between your breasts, savoring every slide. With each upward thrust, the flushed head of his cock brushed against your waiting tongue, leaving a trail of salty precum on it.
“You’re getting so turned on, aren’t you?” he murmured, voice sweet and filthy at the same time. “I can see it in your eyes…Bet you’re already soaking those little shorts for me.”
He kept a steady rhythm, fucking your tits while his hands gently squeezed and played with them, thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples and your own hands.
“Feels so fucking good… warm and soft,” he groaned, hips stuttering a little when the tip of his cock dragged across your tongue again. “You drive me crazy.”
Your cheeks were flushed, thighs pressing together as the ache between your legs grew stronger. Every thrust made you wetter, your body throbbing with need while he used your heavy, sensitive breasts exactly how he wanted.
Satoru’s breathing grew heavier, his thrusts a little faster, but he held back, clearly trying not to cum yet. He wanted to save it for your pussy.
“C’mon, baby,” he rasped, voice rough with desire. “I’ll fuck you nice and deep just like you need.”
He suddenly stood up, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you toward the bedroom, kissing you hungrily on the way. His hard cock pressed against your soaked shorts with every step.
Once he laid you down on the bed, he pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark and full of lust.
“I’m gonna cum so much inside you…” he murmured against your lips, voice low and filthy, “I’ll fill you up until it takes.”
You whimpered at his words, a rush of heat flooding your body as you imagined it — your belly swelling, your tits growing even bigger and heavier, and Satoru being even more obsessed with them, sucking and fucking them while you were pregnant.
He smirked, noticing the way your thighs squeezed together.
“Yeah? You like that idea, don’t you?” he teased, sliding his hand between your legs. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll make sure to abuse these pretty tits even more when they’re full of milk.”
Accidentally calling Sukuna “daddy” and doubling down on it when he questions you. nsfw 18+ mdni.
──── ୨୧ ────
It had slipped out before you can think better of it. In the throes of pleasure, struck by the heat of it and with drool beginning to dribble out from the corner of your parted lips you’d said it - “daddy”.
Before you could even consider how odd it really was, how jarring and out of place it might have sounded to someone so removed from the modern age as Sukuna. But with him moving above you, all rippling skin and thick firm muscle, that lewd honorific was all you could think to utter - to cry out in a strangled moan when he sunk back inside so deep that a sizzle of little stars danced in your vision.
“Daddy?” He echoes the word with a flourishing scoff, though it’s not judgement that laces his tone, to your dulled surprise you find that it’s interest.
“Well you’re -hn-…” you begin to reply, only to swallow down another choked moan when his hips roll in a particularly well placed thrust, “you’re gonna take care of me aren’t you?”
“How archaic,” he replies plainly, and though he offers nothing further you can tell by his sudden silence that the great cogs of his mind are turning.
Typically he would be teasing you, cruel taunts snuck between deceptively sweet little slips of praise. Not that you can find it in yourself to really concern yourself with his lack of banter, or with what he’s thinking about. Not with the way each steady pump is knocking all sense of coherency loose from your brain, adding a fine layer of dreamy fuzz over your vision.
His movement snares your attention as he shifts suddenly above you, his lower half dropping low enough that he can begin to grind between your spread legs. The spatter of hair at his base tickles at your over sensitive clit while the tip of him continues to kiss incessantly somewhere tight and silky - deep enough that a pleasant little ache blooms to life low in your gut.
His knuckles dig into the mattress either side of your head, muscles leaping in his thick forearms, and you groan unashamedly at the sudden closeness of him. You all but melt into the new layer of contact, head tossed sideward until your lips graze his skin, frantic breaths puffing hot and humid over the delicate skin of his wrist.
“Oh ffffu-huh-…oh fuck, ‘kuna…” you moan, shaking your head, lips parted in a mindless sort of awe.
All you can feel is the firm smack of his hips as he works you into the mattress. The sensation is stunning, all consuming, enough to send your legs into a trembling wobble on each downward pump, each thrust winding that little coil in your belly ever tighter.
“No,” He grunts from above you, “not ‘kuna.”
He lifts the last word into a pitched lilt - high and a little breathless in a pointed mockery of you.
“It’s daddy now, isn’t it?”
The sheer sound of his voice, that dirty word growled in his silky rumble is enough to send your eyes rolling skyward. You moan - weak, unashamed, and you hear him chuckle lowly in reply.
“What’s the matter?” He coos, though there’s nothing soothing about the hungry edge his voice has taken on, “you wanted me to take care of you, didn’t you?”
You nod wildly, struggling to lift your lids to blink up at him - a task which suddenly feels herculean with the way his attention is scrambling your already pleasure drunk brain.
“Go on,” he purrs, slow thrusts turned suddenly lethal - firm slaps of his hips tight and wet against your own. Your thighs are trembling now beneath the weight of his assault, wracked with the sheer force of each thrust, “call for me again, pet.”
And you do. You cry for him - spineless and pitiful and all manners of desperate, with tears beginning to dribble hot and glittering over your flushed cheeks.
blakekathryn
areudirty
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