SUMMARY: [stalker toji!x reader!] After working late at night, you choose to save a few bucks and walk home through the poorly lit back alleys instead of taking a cab and end up getting followed by this huge scary looking man.
CONTENT WARNING: non-con : graphic violence : p in v : deep penetration : cervix fucking : hand over mouth : stalking : explicit language : size difference : manhandling : choking : gagging (fingers) : pet names : lifted/carried sex : dead dove; do not eat
His large hand clamps over your mouth, his fingers digging in your cheeks, squishing them roughly, muffling your moans and cry for help as your palms press flat against the old building’s wall.
“Fuccckkk, you feel so damn good” he says, letting out a groan and pulling out his fat cock only to push it back balls deep inside you as your body jerks violently forward, trying desperately accommodate to the brutal stretch, your legs wobbling and buckling beneath you, weak from the continuous deep fucking.
He’s really big, thicker and bigger than anyone you have taken before. His cockhead touches right up against your cervix with every thrust. Pain blooms through your overstretched walls as he smacks his hips against your ass, the obscene sound of it filling your ears.
His other hand is wrapped around your throat as he keeps thrusting inside you, “Yeah, just like that doll” he grunts, lips brushing against the shell of your ear as you clenched around his big cock in fear. “You feel so, so much better than I had expected, isn't it my lucky day?”
“Fuckin’ sweet little thing like you walking these streets alone at night, what were you thinking doing that uh?”
He was right, you had not thought enough while walking back home late at night. Initially you had thought of taking a cab but just to save a few bucks you decided against it.
You shouldn't have. You lived in a big city so even if you had a job which on paper seemed good enough of a paycheck it hardly managed the expenses of the said big city.
Everything was expensive here so even if you lived past a shady neighbourhood, you were glad enough to have the roof above your head. You couldn't afford or even think of changing places until you got a promotion or changed your company for a higher paying one.
You were walking towards your block when you felt someone following you and you glanced over your shoulder only to see this huge bulky and scary man walking a few feet away from you.
You had immediately turned around, heart pounding with fear, hoping it was not what you were thinking and he would take a different turn or route from you. But no, he kept walking after you, turning where you did as you kept checking for him through your peripheral vision.
Even from a distance, he stood out so it was not hard for you to realise that he indeed was following you. And it seemed like he was not going anytime soon or leaving you alone, so you had fastened your pace and nearly ran when you were just a few blocks away from your apartment.
You ran as fast as you could in those damn work heels of yours, as it clattered loudly on the silent street. Huffing as your chest burned, not used to this much of physical activity as you hardly got any time for it, you ran with all your might not looking back and that was your biggest mistake as he was also running after you. Just two more blocks you had thought, you were so close!
Then only he had caught you, his massive arms wrapping around your waist, yanking you to his chest and his large, rough hand had clamped over your mouth before you could scream, smothering your cry for help and protest.
He had moved really fast, dragging you along with him in a nearby alley, where even the streetlamp’s light didn't reach, bunching up your work skirt and tearing off your panties.
You had thrashed wildly, kicking your legs, trying to fight him off, but it was useless. He was too strong for you to do any real harm to him or save yourself from him, he had easily overpowered you pushing you up against the wall in the complete darkness.
He changed the angle pulling out his cock with a low, frustrated grunt, like he hated being out of you even for a second. His thick cock dragged heavily along your walls on his way out, before you could even relax thinking it was probably finally over and he was done with you, he bent his knees slightly, adjusting his angle, and drove back in with one powerful upward thrust. A sharp burst of pain shot through your core, making you yelp in agony against his hand.
The new position forced him even deeper. You felt every inch of his thick cock stretching you open again, his cockhead pressing hard against your cervix, bullying its way in until his heavy balls slapped against your clit, your fingers clawing against the plain brick wall, nothing to hold on too as he started fucking you harder from the new position.
“Don't you know how dangerous it is to roam outside at nighttime, especially if you look so fuckable and vulnerable. You're gonna attract the wrong kind of men you know?”
You tried to scream again, thrashing your head side to side, but his hand only tightened over your mouth making it hard for you to breathe. Tears streamed down your face as your legs shook violently to his relentless ramming inside your cunt.
He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating through his chest pressed flush against your back. “Shhh,shhh, don’t fight it, sweetheart. You’re doing so good for me. Taking my cock like a good little slut.”
“And it's not like you're taking a cock for the first time, I went inside you so easily. Do you have a boyfriend, doll? Who's the lucky bastard fucking this sluty cunt of yours, not gonna lie I am quite jealous.”
Another hard thrust as he pushed himself up from the low angle making you whimper against his palm. You could feel the huge and fat cock of his dragging inside your walls, as it clenched around him due to your fear and distress.
His fingers on your throat loosened just a fraction, as you gasped finally able to breath taking deep shaky breaths only for him to slide up and force two thick fingers past your lips, pressing down on your tongue and fucking shallowly into your mouth as you choked and gagged on his fingers, while at the same time he fucked you with his cock slamming inside you.
He slowed for a moment, grinding deep, letting his cock settle inside you. One of his hands left your hip to grope roughly at your tits through your plain office shirt, “Such a nice pair of tits, baby. Should I loosen them free? They will bounce real good while I fuck you raw–ahhh....shit.”
Toji threw his head back letting out a deep moan as your cunt involuntarily clenched around him, your body reacting out of new found fear. The sudden tight squeeze made him hiss through his teeth.
“Oh, baby don't do that” he let out a throaty chuckle near your ear, "You’re gonna snap my dick in half. Don't worry I am not bothering with your shirt, too much work you know.”
You sobbed harder, body trembling as he picked up the speed again, fucking you harder and faster, as your whole body shook from his ruthless, rentless thrusts.
Your knees finally gave out beneath you as you almost fell down only for him to tighten his hold on your waist keeping you upright and going in and out inside of you groaning in your ear.
He lifted you higher with both his arms now wrapped firmly around your waist, pulling your body back against his chest as he slightly bent his knees and leaned a little backwards. Your feet left the ground, dangling helplessly just inches above the floor, toes pointing down but not touching.
The position was overwhelming, dangling like this, worse than before any of the positions he had put you through. Now, only supported by his arms around your waist, hardly able to move except by the thrusts of his cock.
Your body had grown so weak from the brutal fucking that all you could do now was take it, with your back arching against his chest as painful moans and whimpers spilled from your lips now free from his clamped hand.
“You live around here, right?”he asked grunting. “Bet you’re gonna feel me leaking and dripping from your cunt all the way home when I fill you up, I hope you remember this big cock of mine, I bet it's bigger than your boyfriend's.”
“Gonna fill this sweet pussy of yours, doll.” He said his hips slamming up harder into you. “Pump you full with my cum and you’re gonna take it all like the helpless little fucktoy you are. Ain’t that right, princess?”
heh... request x2.. i have NO CLUE if u write for my man isaac night BUT if you do i would love the freakiest, down bad, borderline disgusting smutty fanfic from when hes half zombie with fem reader because oh my days hes so FINE like sir.. if your tongues that long how long is your downstairs lightbulb😋😋 MESSAGE ME WHEN U GET THIS REQUEST AND ILL SEND THE PHOTO IM REFERENCING OF HIS FORM
Half Dead, Half the Time
Pairing: Isaac Night x Fem! Student! Reader
Warnings: p in v sex , unprotected sex , zombie ? sex , size difference , overstimulation, cum play , public sex , rough sex , heavy dub con vibes
Synopsis: trapped in the quiet of an empty classroom, you learn that Isaac doesn’t take, he hunts. with scars, hunger, and a body that refuses to quit, he overwhelms you until there’s nothing left but his claim.
🧟
You should have been studying. The classroom was quiet this late, shadows stretching long across the desks, chalk dust still lingering in the air. Your notes lay forgotten in front of you, pen idle in your hand. You told yourself you were staying late for focus — but really, it was the only place you felt hidden. Safe.
Until the door creaked open.
Boots on linoleum, slow and deliberate. You froze, throat dry, as he stepped into the faint glow of the desk lamp. Isaac. Scars cutting harsh lines across his throat, shirt unbuttoned just enough to show more of them crawling down his chest. His eyes gleamed like he’d caught prey.
“What are you doing here all alone, sweetheart?” His voice rasped like smoke, low and mocking. “Looking for trouble?”
You straightened in your chair, heat flooding your cheeks. “I was studying.”
His grin stretched wide, too sharp, tongue flicking over his bottom lip in a way that made your stomach clench. Too long. Unnatural. Obscene.
“Funny,” he drawled, stepping closer, “you look like you’ve been waiting for me.”
Your pulse stuttered as he leaned down, palms braced on your desk, trapping you in. The scent of smoke and iron clung to him, wrong and magnetic. His scarred knuckle tilted your chin up.
“You ever wonder,” he murmured, tongue flicking out slow and deliberate, “what this can do when it’s not talking?”
Your lips parted, no sound coming. His laugh was low, cruel. “Thought so.”
Then his mouth was on yours. Not a kiss, not really , his tongue pushed deep, too much, licking into you like he meant to consume you. Saliva slicked your chin by the time he pulled back, and his grin was pure sin.
“Pathetic,” he rasped. “One taste and you’re already trembling.”
Before you could reply, he dragged you out of the chair, shoving you onto the desk. Papers scattered to the floor. His hands made quick work of your clothes, rough but certain, leaving you bare under the cold classroom air. His gaze devoured you, and he licked his lips like you were something to be eaten.
Then he dropped to his knees between the desks.
You gasped as that tongue licked a long stripe up your slit, hot and thick and endless. He groaned like he’d been starving, plunging inside you until your back arched off the desk. Your thighs clamped around his head, but he only shoved them wider, tongue curling deeper, fucking you in ways fingers never could.
The sounds were obscene , wet, messy, echoing in the empty classroom. Slick dripped down onto the polished wood. You slapped a hand over your mouth to muffle your moans, but he growled against you, pulling back just long enough to sneer up at you.
“Don’t you dare hide those sounds,” he said, saliva and slick glistening on his chin. “I want every little cry. I want this room haunted with the sound of you falling apart on my tongue.”
Then he dove back in, relentless, tongue writhing, nose grinding against your clit until you came with a muffled sob. He drank it down, groaning, holding you open like he’d crawl inside you if he could. And when you tried to shove his head away, weak from the aftershocks, he only smirked, tongue flicking at your overstimulated clit.
“Not done,” he muttered against your soaked skin, eyes dark and hungry. “Not nearly done.”
Your thighs were still trembling from his tongue when he finally rose to his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of his scarred hand. His lips glistened, his grin dark.
“Messy already,” he rasped. “And I haven’t even given you the real problem yet.”
Your eyes widened as he undid his belt, slow, taunting. The sound of the leather sliding free echoed indecently in the quiet classroom. Then he pulled himself out.
Your breath hitched.
He was… obscene. Thick, heavy, long enough that your stomach twisted with a mix of fear and desperate want. Even soft, he would’ve been intimidating. Hard, flushed, veins ridging the length , he looked like he’d split you open.
“No way,” you whispered, shaking your head.
He chuckled low, stepping between your knees, cock brushing against your soaked slit. “Oh, sweetheart. Way. You think I’d let you go now? After tasting you?”
The blunt head pressed against your entrance, slick smearing. You whimpered, nails digging into the desk beneath you.
“Please,” you gasped, not even sure if you meant please stop or please more.
He leaned down, lips brushing your ear. “Please what? Please fuck you until you scream? Until you’re so full you can’t think? That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
Before you could answer, he pushed in.
The stretch was unbearable. hot, burning, your body clamping down around him in shock. You cried out, grabbing at his arms, eyes squeezing shut. He groaned, low and guttural, savoring the way you fluttered around him.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he hissed. “Squeezing me like you were made for it.”
He inched deeper, slow and merciless, until your belly ached with fullness. Tears pricked your eyes. “Too much,” you whimpered.
His grin was sharp. “That’s the point.”
When he bottomed out, your back arched, a broken sob spilling from your lips. He stayed buried, relishing the way you shook, one hand pressing against your stomach.
“Feel that?” he taunted, palm firm on the bulge. “That’s me. All the way inside. No one else will ever fill you like this.”
You moaned, high pitched, loud. Too loud. The sound bounced off the chalkboards, filled the empty hall beyond.
He chuckled darkly, grinding his hips just enough to make you yelp. “Careful, sweetheart. Keep screaming like that and someone’s gonna come in.”
Your eyes snapped open, panic flashing. “Then stop!”
“Stop?” He laughed, cruel and delighted. “You don’t want me to stop. You’re dripping down my cock, begging for more. You just don’t want anyone to hear how pathetic you sound.”
You shook your head desperately, tears streaking your cheeks, but your body betrayed you , clenching around him, sucking him deeper. He groaned, dragging his cock out an inch just to slam back in, making the desk creak under you.
“Louder,” he ordered, hand tightening on your hip. “I want the whole damn building to know how good I fuck you.”
You bit your lip, stifling a cry. He growled, grabbing your jaw, forcing your mouth open. “No hiding. Let them hear.”
His thrusts grew harsher, obscene slaps of skin echoing through the classroom. Your cries spilled out uncontrollably, each louder than the last. And every time you gasped, he smirked, taunting you with that wicked tongue.
“Good girl,” he rasped. “Sing for me. Nobody’s coming to save you. Not from this.”
Your climax hit hard, clenching around him so tight he cursed. He fucked you through it, relentless, obsessed with how you spasmed, how your voice cracked into sobs.
“Too much?” he mocked, eyes wild. “Sweet little cunt can’t take it?”
But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. And you couldn’t either, not when every thrust left you more ruined, more wrecked, more his.
He didn’t give you time to recover from the first orgasm. Your body was still twitching, walls spasming around his cock, when he pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in, hard enough to make the desk scrape against the floor.
You sobbed, grabbing at the edge, but he only laughed, low and rough. “Pathetic little thing. Already crying, and I’ve barely started.”
His hips snapped, rhythm brutal. Every thrust punched the air from your lungs, made slick gush around him, soaking your thighs, dripping onto the floor. The obscene wet sounds filled the classroom louder than your choked moans.
“Fuck,” he groaned, watching your face twist. “Look at you. Falling apart on my cock like you were made for it. You like it, don’t you? Being split open, stuffed full.”
Your answer was a broken whimper. He chuckled darkly, leaning down to kiss you again — not soft, not sweet. His tongue shoved into your mouth, messy, spit stringing between you when he pulled back
“You taste like tears,” he muttered, licking at your wet cheek. “Perfect.”
Another orgasm tore through you, sharp and unbearable. Your nails raked down his back, desperate, as your body clamped around him again.
“That’s it,” he snarled, pounding harder. “Come for me. Over and over until you’re nothing but a wrecked little hole for me to use.”
You cried out, too loud. Your voice echoed down the hall, wild and shameless. Panic flared through you, but he caught your chin, forcing you to look at him as he thrust deep.
“Someone could walk in right now,” he taunted, voice thick with lust. “See you spread out on a desk, drooling, stuffed full of cock. Is that what you want? To be caught like this?”
“N-no,” you gasped, tears spilling fresh.
His grin widened. “Liar. Your cunt’s gripping me tighter every time I say it. You’d love it, wouldn’t you? Everyone knowing you’re mine.”
You shook your head desperately, but another sob escaped when he ground his hips, pressing so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach.
“That’s it,” he rasped. “Take it. Take every inch. You don’t get to waste a drop.”
He pulled out suddenly, leaving you empty, and before you could even whine he shoved two fingers deep, curling cruelly against your walls. You screamed, clamping around them, squirting slick across the desk. His laugh was sharp, delighted.
“Messy little slut,” he mocked, holding his soaked fingers up for you to see before shoving them into your mouth. “Taste yourself. Get used to it — you’ll be drowning in it by the time I’m done.”
Your tongue lapped at his fingers helplessly, tears streaking down your face. He pushed them deeper, making you gag around them, until you whimpered pathetically.
“Good girl,” he purred, pulling them free with a wet pop. “Now back where you belong.”
He slammed back into you, no warning. Your scream cracked in your throat, your body convulsing around him. He fucked you harder, relentless, desk creaking under the force. Slick and spit and sweat dripped everywhere, turning the scene obscene.
You lost count of the orgasms. They blurred together into one long, shattering wave, your body twitching, sobbing, drooling, ruined. He didn’t stop. He rejoiced in it, groaning every time you clenched, mocking every cry.
“Can’t take it, can you?” he snarled, pounding harder. “Overstimulated little slut, crying and begging and still milking my cock. You love it. You fucking love it.”
You could only sob, babbling nonsense, head lolling back.
Finally, with a growl, he came. Hot, thick, flooding you so full it spilled out around his cock. He didn’t pull out , he ground deeper, hand pressing your stomach again.
“Feel that?” he rasped, voice wrecked. “Filling you up. Every drop. Not wasting a thing.”
When he finally slid out, cum gushed down your thighs, dripping onto the desk. He caught it with his fingers immediately, pushing it back inside you with obscene care.
“Mine,” he muttered, watching your hole flutter around his hand. “Every drop stays right here. Where it belongs.”
You whimpered, shaking, tears and drool streaking your face. He smirked, leaning down to lick a long stripe up your cheek, tongue hot and filthy
“Look at you,” he said softly, almost reverent. “Ruined. Perfect.”
You thought it was over. You thought he’d finally wrung you dry. The desk was slick beneath you, your thighs still trembling, your throat raw from sobbing. But the look in his eyes told you different ,hunger, unspent, insatiable.
“Don’t pass out on me yet,” he murmured, lips curling. “You haven’t even felt what I can really do.”
You blinked blearily, dazed. “I-I can’t”
“You can,” he said, crouching down between your thighs again. His scarred hands pried you open, thumbs spreading you wide, obscene. “You’ll take it. Every inch.”
And then his tongue was there again — hot, wet, obscenely long. It licked one slow stripe up your folds, curling, pressing, until you gasped. But he didn’t stop at shallow teasing. No — he pushed deeper.
Your eyes flew wide, hands flying to the desk for purchase as you felt him slide inside. Too long. Too thick. It writhed past your entrance, curling, filling you, plunging deeper with every obscene sound of slick and saliva.
“Fuck!” you cried, back arching.
He groaned into you, the vibration buzzing along the length of his tongue inside your body. He kept going. Past where fingers could reach. Past where cocks could reach. The pressure grew unbearable, sharp and invasive, until-
You gasped, choking on air. He’d reached your cervix. His tongue pressed against it, relentless, curling around the entrance like it meant to pry it open. Tears streaked your face, the stretch unbearable, overwhelming.
“Too deep?” he taunted, voice muffled against your slick thighs. His tongue twitched, making you shriek. “That’s the point.”
Your nails clawed at the desk, at his hair, at anything you could reach. You couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t stop sobbing. Every nerve in your body was on fire. He fucked you with his tongue, obscene thrusts reaching places you didn’t know could be touched, curling against your cervix until your legs kicked helplessly.
“Listen to you,” he groaned, pulling back just enough to lick spit and slick across your clit before plunging deep again. “Crying like I’m killing you. But this greedy cunt’s sucking me in, begging for more.”
You came so hard you thought you blacked out, body convulsing, clamping around the length of him, waves of pleasure so sharp it hurt. He didn’t let up. He groaned into you, tongue writhing until another orgasm tore through you, then another, too fast, too brutal.
By the time he finally pulled free, your entire body was shaking, drenched in spit and slick. His chin gleamed with it, his grin feral.
“See?” he rasped, licking his lips obscenely. “My cock stuffs you. But this” he tapped his tongue against his teeth, still glistening, “this ruins you.”
You sobbed, limp, ruined in every way. And he smirked, satisfied, already leaning down for another taste.
Imagine Sylus being so pussy drunk that he doesn't even process that he's overstimulating the life out of you?
You've already snapped your thighs shut around his head, one hand pushing desperately against his hair as if it will somehow detach him from your poor, throbbing clit.
Your entire body is writhing to get away from him.
But his hands are iron-clad in their grip on your skin. You're not going anywhere, even as you manage to fight through the overwhelming pleasure and twist your upper half. Grabbing at the pillows, the sheets, anything for leverage to pull yourself up the bed.
But, Sylus holds firm, mouth latched on to your slippery cunt. You're nearly begging, trying anything to somehow dislodge your beast of a lover from your cunt.
Imagine somehow being able to get yourself from your back to your hands and knees.
Trying so hard to crawl away on trembling legs but you just can't seem to make them move fast enough.
Not that Sylus is letting you get very far. Large arms encompass your lower half in a bear hug, and his face is smushing itself embarrassingly deep into your sloppy sex.
Succumbing to the fact that you're not escaping him, nor are you escaping his eager mouth. Melting into the pillows, slack jawed and watery eyed as you fully give in to the pleasure he's giving you.
Sylus isn't quite about it either, no, he's a loud eater.
He's moaning and groaning into your cunt, slobbering down your thighs, nuzzling his entire head into the warmth between them.
Can you do some overstim with ftm char... Maybe the cutie house husband or someone else. Holding up a vibrator to his clit and making him cum over and over again ❤️
enter— your misbehaving boyfriend !!
status: edited + proofread
synopsis: ^^^
word count: 1.8k
cw: porn with no plot, GN reader, FTM char (AFAB terminology used), dom!reader, sub char!, masochist char, mean reader, established relationship, overstimulation, toys (vibrator wand), multiple orgasms, crying, physical restraint/bondage, neglect play
note: so sorry for the long wait! quite a few things happened for me over the span of the last couple of days. anyhow, hope you enjoy.
you lounge on the couch, thumb idly flicking through your feed, the blue glow of your screen painting shifting patterns on the ceiling. every so often, you glance over your phone—just to catch the sight of him sprawled awkwardly on the floor, limbs at odd angles, chest heaving as he tries to steady his breath. his hair is sticking to the sweat on his forehead, and his entire body trembles with sensation; you are responsible for that.
soft, desperate mewls tug at your attention.
his knees dig into the floor, thighs shaking with the strain of holding still, toes curling into the carpet in search of something to ground him. the real show, though, is the mess you’ve made of him: frog-tied, legs bent, and ankles lashed to his thighs, arms trussed behind his back so he’s forced wide open, helpless and exposed. there’s nowhere for him to go, not when you have him like this.
the rope bites into his skin, leaving deep, angry impressions, making every twitch force his folds apart even wider—so wide you can see the way his hole pulses and leaks.
you went a step further—strips of tape stretch him open, adhesive biting into the delicate skin at the edges of his folds. they force his lips wide, exposing every glistening contour, every vulnerable line, the soft pink of his insides stretched to the brink. parted so far you can see the eager, shining slick pooling at his center.
each shudder wrings more slick from him, thick and sticky, painting wet streaks down his thighs and soaking the carpet below. he’s making a mess and he can’t help it—can’t stop it, not with you watching, not tied up and spread open like this.
his clit juts out, swollen and flushed a furious pink, throbbing in the cool air, so sensitive that even the slightest draft of air seems to make him jolt. every twitch of his hips, every humiliating spasm, makes it jump some more, forces another helpless squirm. the skin is puffy, glistening with slick and tears—so overworked it looks bruised, trembling on the edge of another wave. the rope digs in further with every quiver, holding him so obscenely wide you can see everything. maybe it’s a bit much, you admit, but you can’t bring yourself to regret it.
you take a moment just to look at him, how ruined he is, entrance flushed and swollen from your (in)attention, rim glistening with arousal and a new swell of slick. the folds tremble, held so brutally apart by your handiwork, while the base of a heavy vibrator wand is wedged mercilessly against his exposed spot. the head is pressed snug, its low, relentless hum rattling through his core, making his thighs jerk and his fingers curl uselessly behind his back. you watch him shudder, broken noises spilling from his slack mouth.
the vibrations are deep and ruthless, rumbling straight through his pelvis, making his thighs want to clamp shut, and his breath catch on a whimper.
every so often, you lean over, reaching out to nudge the wand back into position, pressing it even more firmly against his clit for good measure. there’s no escape for him, not with the rope and tape holding him wide and the toy unceasing. sometimes you do it without a thought, just wanting something else to keep your hands busy, brushing against his wetness, never looking up from your phone, letting his whining and the noises made from his needy cunt fade into the background.
he tries to brace himself against the onslaught of his angry bundle of nerves, but his muscles just seize and relax in helpless rhythm, his whole body jerking through each wave of pleasure and shame.
that is, most of the time, you don’t even have to lift a finger—he does it to himself, thrashing and twitching, the toy shifting minutely from his involuntary jerks or the tautness of the tape. every spike in sensation makes his thighs quake, his whole body shudders, and moans spill from him whether he wants them to or not.
it’s relentless: every few minutes, you watch as another orgasm wracks his body, his hips jerking and his voice breaking into ragged, desperate sobs. the wand never lets up, true to its design, its merciless buzzing pressed to his most sensitive spot without pause, even as his body shakes with the aftershocks of his last. there's no reprieve, no time to catch his breath—just the endless, overwhelming sensation that has him teetering on the edge between pleasure and madness.
his body trembles violently with each release, resembling intermittent seizures—thighs clenching and back arching as he writhes helplessly, unable to stop the spasms that shake him apart, each one more intense then the last.
the first orgasm was sharp and overwhelming, his entire body seizing as the wave crashes through him, a guttural cry escaping as his hips buck uncontrollably. a gush of cum spilling from his entrance, wetting the tape some more and glistening in the light, droplets running down his thighs, drooling over his hole, or pooling beneath his trembling body. his folds twitch and flutter, stretched wide and exposed, the swollen rim pulsing with each aftershock. you watch as his inner walls do the same, flushed dark with arousal, the tape holding him open so every orgasm is on display for your amusement—if that.
the second one came even faster, his body barely recovering before the relentless vibration rips another orgasm from him. this time, his sobs are louder, legs kicking weakly against the floor, thighs trembling as his muscles tense and relax in rapid succession. his entrance clenches tight around nothing, the gush of his creamy cum even messier, leaking white steadily onto the carpet, his rim throbbing with raw, over-sensitized nerves.
by the third, his voice is hoarse, pleas dissolving into broken moans turned into cries of pain. he tries to twist away from the toy, but the restraints hold him tight, forcing him to take every surge of pleasure. his body convulses, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks as he begs for mercy, the tape biting deeper as he bucks helplessly against the unyielding stimulation. his hole, never given the chance to close, each orgasm leaving him more raw and sensitive than the last, his body shivering with exhaustion from the overstimulation.
he’s sobbing now—shameless, broken noises pouring from his lips, his whole body rocking with the force of it. the room is filled with the cacophony of his cries, sobs, and whimpers, each one rising in pitch and urgency as the sensation grows. it’s so loud you’d think it would be impossible to ignore. you barely glance up, letting his desperate pleas blend into the background with the relentless hum of the toy and the buzz of your phone. tears streak down his cheeks, mingling with sweat, his chest hitching with every ragged gasp. his voice is raw, each plea more frantic than the last as he begs—“please—please, I can’t—” the words dissolve into another broken sob as another climax rips through him. “please, stop it, just for a second—please, it’s too much—” his voice is thick with tears, pleading, desperate, a string of “i can’t, i can’t, please, just a break, i need—i need—” until he’s lost in the sensation again, body wracked by another shuddering orgasm, reduced to a trembling, weeping mess, with all matter of soggy expulsions running down his face, completely at your feet.
he can’t move away—he’s trapped, forced to endure every wave of pleasure, every overwhelming climax, every humiliating sob to the point of numbness.
the room is filled with the constant, needy sound of the toy, the wet, broken edge of his breathing, and the occasional, sharp clink of the cuffs as he shifts helplessly.
he shoots you a pleading look, his eyes are glossy, a faint sheen of sweat dotting his brow, the flush on his cheeks now spreading down his neck. his chest rises and falls in uneven, shallow breaths. you just smirk, pretending not to notice as you swipe past another video that fell onto your for you page, your indifference making his blush deepen—a visible pulse throbbing at his throat.
he squirms, his hips jerking involuntarily as the vibrations make him shudder, his thighs clenching and unclenching as he tries in vain to close his legs. the tape and wand ensure complete exposure and utter helplessness, his entrance twitching and leaking with every surge of sensation. he whimpers softly, body curled and trembling, desperation mounting with every passing second.
you sigh, finally setting your phone aside, letting it drop onto the armrest with a soft thud. “need something? what are you whining for?” you ask, your voice dripping with amusement as you look him over.
he huffs, cheeks flushed a deep red, lashes damp as he bites down hard on his trembling lower lip to keep from embarrassing himself further by moaning loud enough for the neighbors to hear. his chest quivers with every shallow breath, and his thighs tremble as he presses himself into the floor, desperate for any kind of relief.
he seemed preoccupied. you simply arch an eyebrow. you don’t even bother conjuring up something resembling sympathy.
maybe you’ll keep him waiting a little longer. watching him struggle—his shoulders shaking, toes curling, eyes, which were half-rolled back showing the whites, flashing with sparks—as he tries to keep more bulbous tears from tumbling down his face, is almost as satisfying as anything else.
you lean back, reassuming your grip on your phone, letting your gaze linger momentarily on the trembling line of his back, the way his spine arches, and his hips twitch in a futile attempt to escape the overstimulation before ripping them away as his breath came in short, ragged gasps, punctuated by broken whimpers that fill the room.
you continue to ignore his desperate, pleading noises, eyes fixed on your screen as he writhes helplessly. you force him to find release again and again, pretending to be utterly uninterested in his plight—each orgasm wracking his body with fresh waves of exhaustion and sensitivity, his cries muffled by your disinterest.
though, now that you’re thinking about it, you should probably schedule an appointment to drop off your carpet at the dry cleaners.
Mafia ! Gojo Satoru who keeps a whore for himself in prison.
c.w. mdni, dubcon, implied noncon, exhibitionism, multiple men, jail sex, fingering, squirting, pussy slapping, overstimulation, deepthroat, submissive reader, gojo is a piece of shit, paying for sex, 'buying' women for sex.
read disclaimer before interacting.
Mafia!Gojo who is so bored with the endless cycle of blood, money, and power, decides to let the police catch him just to see if the prison food is actually as bad as they say.
Mafia!Gojo who walks into the precinct with a smug grin, not even bothering to hide the expensive watch on his wrist or the lethal aura he radiates, making the officers sweat just by standing near them.
Mafia!Gojo who lets himself be transferred to a proper prison just for the shits and giggles.
Mafia!Gojo who finds the concept of his prison cell "quaint," decides to use his infinite wealth to turn his incarceration into a high-end vacation.
Mafia!Gojo who pays a staggering, obscene amount of money to the warden just to ensure he has a "selection" of the most beautiful women to be transferred to alleviate his boredom.
Mafia!Gojo who makes the women line up in the dim, gritty warden's office, stripped bare and shivering, just so he can play judge and jury.
Mafia!Gojo who looks at the lineup with those piercing, god-like blue eyes.
Mafia!Gojo who touches each woman to get a fair judgment, laughing as they squirm when he flicks their clit or pulls on their pierced nipples.
Mafia!Gojo who is almost bored until he reaches you.
Mafia!Gojo who wonders what made you end up in prison, with your innocent eyes and untainted body, unlike the other women covered in tattoos or piercings.
Mafia!Gojo who doesn't even wait to hear your name before he's on his knees, parting your thighs with a heavy, possessive hand.
Mafia!Gojo who takes a single, deep dip of his finger into your heat, his eyes widening as he notices how much you're already dripping for him.
Mafia!Gojo who discards the rest of the line without a second thought, deciding you are the only prize worth his time.
Mafia!Gojo who demands a private cell where he doesn't have to share a single inch of you with anyone else.
Mafia!Gojo who loves the thrill of being loud, fucking you for everyone to overhear or even watch.
Mafia!Gojo who wants the other inmates to hear every wet slap of your skin and every high-pitched, submissive moan you let out.
Mafia!Gojo who smirks when he hears the inmates outside the bars jerking off to the sound of your pleasure, their voices calling out filthy instructions.
Mafia!Gojoo who leans into the chaos, growling at him to "fuck her ass" or "make her squirt" just to see how much you'll obey him.
Mafia!Gojo who treats your body like his personal playground, making sure you're so drenched in his cum and your own fluids that the whole prison knows you belong to him.
Gojo sits sprawled in front the iron bars of his private cell, looking more like a king on a throne than a prisoner.
You are draped haphazardly against him, half your body sprawled on his muscular thighs and the other half sinking into the freezing, grime streaked stone floor. Your legs are folded wide, spread completely open to the dim light and the hungry eyes of the cell block, leaving your soaking wet pussy completely exposed for the whole damn wing to see.
"Look at this little slut," Gojo chuckles, his voice a low, vibrating rumble that makes your toes curl.
He doesn't care about being gentle. He plunges two thick fingers deep into your dripping slit, the sound of it a disgusting, rhythmic squelch, squelch, squelch that echoes against the concrete.
From the dark cells across the hall, the inmates are losing their minds.
"Harder, boss! Stretch that whore out!" a voice bellows, followed by a chorus of cheers and the frantic sound of hands slapping against skin. You can hear the sickening soundof men jerking off to the sight of weeping pussy and your tits bouncing with every thrust of his fingers.
Gojo’s eyes are blown wide, watching your face as he picks up the pace. He was knuckle deep, squishing your walls as he hits your G spot, and you let out a loud, uninhibited scream.
"That's it, squirt for them, you little whore!" He commands, his palm grinding hard against your clit.
As you hit your peak, your body jerks and you begin to squirt, the hot spray of your juices splashing against his hand and the floor.
The inmates go feral, the sound of their desperate moans filling the air as they watch your juices drip from his fingers. Gojo just smirks, his eyes dark with lust, already reaching for his cock.
The order in the prison wing has completely collapsed.
The new guards, young men who are supposed to be maintaining discipline and watching the bars, have abandoned their posts. They are leaning against the cold walls, their uniforms unbuttoned and disheveled, frantically palming their cocks as they watch the spectacle.
Gojo doesn't give a damn about the lack of authority; in fact, he thrives on it.
He grabs a handful of your hair, tilting your head back as he shoves his thick, heavy cock into your mouth. You let out a muffled, desperate sound, gagging as he slams into you, fucking your throat with a brutal rhythm.
The sound of his cock sliding in and out of your mouth a wet, messy slop, slop, slop competes with the heavy breathing of the men watching.
"Hey," Gojo calls out, his voice thick with lust as he pulls back just enough to let you breathe, though he keeps his cock pressed against your lips.
He looks up at the young guards, the ones whose eyes are bulging as they watch your throat bulge with the size of his cock.
"You lot. Get over here."
The guards hesitate for a split second before scurrying toward his cell like starving dogs. Gojo smirks, a predatory, dangerous glint in his blue eyes.
"One minute," he commands, his voice a low, arrogant drawl.
"I'll pay you enough to retire if you can make this little slut squirt on your fingers in sixty seconds. Go on. Show me how good you are with your hands."
The guards scramble, crowding around your trembling body, their hands reaching through the bars for your soaking wet pussy as the clock starts ticking.
The guards don't waste a single second. They descend on you like a pack of starving animals, their hands rough and desperate as they scramble to meet Gojo's impossible challenge. There is no gentleness here, only the frantic, sweaty need to win his prize.
One guard grabs your tit, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulls and twists your nipple with a bruising force that makes you cry out.
At the same time, a second guard shoves two thick, unwashed fingers deep into your pathetic, gaping pussy.
He isn't looking for pleasure; he’s looking for the finish line, thrusting into you with a violent, rhythmic squelch, squelch, squelch that makes your insides feel like they’re being rearranged.
The third guard focuses entirely on your clit, his thumb grinding against the swollen nub with a rough pressure. He’s rubbing you so hard it’s almost painful, his movements frantic and uncoordinated as he tries to force a reaction.
The sensation is overwhelming. The pulling at your tits, the invasive thrusting in your cunt, and the relentless, hard rubbing on your clit. Your breath comes in ragged, desperate gasps as your vision blurs.
The sounds of their heavy breathing and the wet, messy sounds of their hands fill your ears. You can feel the pressure building, a frantic, electric tension coiling tight in your gut, as you fight to obey Gojo's command and squirt for them before the minute is up.
The world dissolves into a blur of friction and heat.
You can no longer tell where your body ends and theirs begin; you have completely surrendered, your identity erased by the overwhelming sensation of being nothing more than a cumdump hole for Satoru to play with.
Your mind goes blank, your thoughts replaced by a single, primal need to just feel.
As the guards’ fingers work you into a frenzy, the climax hits you like a freight train.
You squirt violently, your body arching and shuddering in a blind, mindless spasm. You are still gagging on Satoru’s cock, your throat constricted and raw, unable to even scream as the pleasure rips through you.
"There we go..." Gojo coos, signaling the guards to remove their hands with a wave.
His hand meets your pussy now, rubbing your folds as the streaming liquid soaks his fingers again.
Just for the heck of it, he gives it a few slaps that only increase the pressure of your orgasm.
In a desperate attempt to cool the fire burning between your legs, you heave yourself up, levering your feet against the cold prison bars.
You press your burning pussy against the iron, grinding your swollen folds against the freezing metal to stifle the heat, your body shaking with pathetic, uncontrolled aftershocks.
Satoru watches you with a dark, amused, and utterly possessive expression. He doesn’t feel sorry for you; he finds your desperation intoxicating.
He lets out a laugh at the sight of you clinging to the bars, your eyes rolled back and unfocused, as he thrusts one last time.
He cums deep in your throat, a hot, thick flood that you swallow greedily, unable to even pull away.
As the guards retreat, Satoru reaches out and hooks his hand under your chin, helping you sit up.
Your dazed, blurry eyes don't even meet his; you’re lost in a fog of lust and submission, your mouth still dripping. He wipes the streaks of saliva and cum from your face, his thumb lingering on your bottom lip.
"You're coming home with me," he says, his voice calm but absolute. "I'm done playing games."
synopsis: You ran from your arranged marriage in a torn white wedding dress, desperate to escape the cruel lord your family sold you to. By midnight, you’re on your knees in front of the village butcher, begging for shelter.
Toji Fushiguro doesn’t help runaways.
But when you blurt out that he’s your husband in front of the biggest gossips in town, suddenly the whole village believes you’re his. Now you’re trapped in a fake marriage with the terrifying butcher — a massive, rough, possessive man who has decided that if you’re going to call yourself his wife… he’s going to make it very, very real.
pairing: butcher!toji fushiguro x runaway bride!reader
mdni | warnings: smut, first time, size kink, breeding kink, creampie, cum play, rough sex, possessive/jealous Toji, dirty talk, spanking, manhandling, strength kink, overstimulation, oral (f receiving), fingering, spitting, multiple orgasms, multiple positions, fake marriage
word count: 14.8k
a/n: im kinda obsessed with this ngl... also lmk if your enjoying these longer fics!
The great hall of your family estate felt more like a tomb than a place of celebration.
Thick beams of dark oak loomed overhead, and the air was heavy with the greasy smell of over-roasted venison, spilled sour wine, and your father’s desperation. Two massive iron chandeliers flickered with dying candles, casting long, distorted shadows that danced across the walls. Servants had long since been dismissed, leaving only the three of you: your father, Lord Kato, and you — the silent prize being traded away.
Your father slumped in his carved high-backed chair, cheeks bloated and flushed deep red from too much drink. His once-fine tunic was stained with grease and wine. With a trembling hand, he slid the sealed parchment across the table. The wax bore your family’s broken crest.
“She’s untouched,” he slurred, trying and failing to sound proud. “Barely nineteen summers. Fertile. She’ll give you strong sons, I swear it. Obedient when properly disciplined. This marriage settles every debt between our houses — the gold, the eastern lands, the failed harvests… all of it wiped clean.”
Lord Kato sat across from him like a spider in human skin. Tall and unnaturally pale, with sharp cheekbones and eyes the color of frozen ink. His lips curled into a thin, cruel smile as he let his gaze crawl over your body without shame. He studied the swell of your breasts beneath your gown, the narrow dip of your waist, the way your hands clenched into fists at your sides. The way you trembled.
He took a slow sip of wine, then spoke, voice smooth and cold as winter steel.
“She’ll do nicely. The ceremony will take place tomorrow night at my estate. I expect her delivered in the finest white lace and silk… and nothing beneath it.” His smile widened, revealing teeth that seemed too sharp. “I want easy access the moment the guests leave. I’ve waited long enough for my new bride.”
You stood motionless in the center of the hall, heart pounding so violently you could hear it in your ears. Your skin crawled as if his eyes were already peeling the gown from your body. Nausea twisted in your stomach. This man had already buried three wives. Whispers spoke of bruises, broken bones, and screams that echoed through his halls at night. And now your own father was selling you to him for coin and land.
No one asked if you agreed.
No one asked what you wanted.
No one ever had.
You kept your face blank, eyes lowered like the obedient daughter they expected, while inside your mind screamed.
Later that night, when the household finally fell into drunken slumber and the torches burned low, you moved.
You had planned this in secret for weeks. A plain dark wool cloak stolen from the stables. A small bundle of hard bread, dried cheese, and a waterskin. Soft leather shoes you hoped would last. But the most valuable thing you owned was the wedding gown itself. You had decided to wear the half-finished white dress during your escape — the expensive satin and delicate lace might fetch enough coins in a distant village to buy you passage far away from here. It was risky, but you had nothing else of real value.
You slipped out through the narrow servant’s entrance at the back of the kitchens, the heavy door groaning softly behind you like a warning. The moment your feet touched the cold, dew-soaked grass, terror and fragile hope surged through you in equal measure.
You ran.
The forest swallowed you whole.
Ancient trees loomed like silent judges, their branches clawing at your white gown as if trying to drag you back. The delicate satin — still only half-finished, with pins and loose threads — snagged mercilessly on thorns. You heard fabric tearing again and again: sharp rips that sounded far too loud in the darkness. The long lace veil caught on a low limb and nearly yanked you off your feet; you tore it free with shaking hands, leaving half of it fluttering behind you like a surrendered flag. Mud and wet leaves caked your bare feet. Sharp stones and roots sliced into your soles until every step left bloody prints in the dirt. The cold night air burned your lungs. Sweat soaked your back and chest despite the chill, making the torn gown cling obscenely to your skin. Your legs screamed with exhaustion after only an hour, but fear kept you moving. Behind you, distant shouts echoed through the trees — your father’s guards, torches flickering like angry fireflies. Dogs barked. They were coming.
You pushed harder.
Branches whipped your face, leaving stinging cuts across your cheeks. Your hair fell loose from its elegant pins, wild and tangled. Tears streamed down your face, mixing with blood and dirt. Every shadow looked like a man ready to grab you. Every snap of a twig made your heart seize. You ran until your vision blurred and your chest felt like it would burst. You ran until the shouts grew fainter and the trees finally began to thin.
Hours had passed. The moon hung high and merciless overhead, bathing the world in cold silver light. Your legs trembled violently as you stumbled out of the treeline onto a wide, muddy road. In the distance, warm golden lantern light glowed between clusters of simple wooden buildings. A village.
You nearly collapsed with relief.
The main street was deserted, shutters closed tight against the night. Only one building still showed signs of life. Warm light spilled from its open front door onto the dirt road, carrying with it the thick, metallic scent of fresh blood and raw meat. A weathered wooden sign creaked overhead in the cold breeze:
Fushiguro Meat Co.
You limped toward it, every cut and bruise screaming.
A massive man stood under the wooden awning, illuminated by the lantern light. He was enormous — broad as a barn door, easily over six feet tall, with shoulders and arms so thick with muscle they looked carved from stone. He wore a blood-streaked leather apron tied low on his narrow hips. Beneath it, a simple white tank clung to his sweat-slicked chest, the thin fabric molded to heavy slabs of muscle and dark, scattered scars. His black hair was damp and messy, strands falling across his forehead. A deep, jagged scar twisted the corner of his mouth, giving his face a permanent, dangerous smirk even when he wasn’t smiling.
Thick veins stood out on his forearms as he slowly wiped a long, wicked boning knife clean on the edge of his apron. The blade gleamed.
He looked like violence given human shape — raw, brutal, and utterly terrifying.
You didn’t know his name. You didn’t know anything about him except that he was the only soul still awake, and you were completely out of options.
Your legs gave out the final few steps. You dropped hard to your knees in the cold dirt right in front of him, the torn white satin of your ruined wedding gown pooling around you like spilled milk mixed with blood and mud. Your chest heaved. Fresh tears cut clean tracks down your filthy cheeks.
“Please—” Your voice came out cracked and hoarse, barely more than a whisper. “Hide me. Just for one night. My family… they sold me to Lord Kato to settle their debts. He’s going to break me. Hurt me in ways I can’t even speak of. I’ll do anything you ask — scrub floors until my hands bleed, haul carcasses, sleep in the cold room with the meat, be your servant, your cleaner… anything. Just please… don’t let them take me back.”
You bowed your head, trembling, and clutched desperately at the bloody hem of his apron with both hands, staining your fingers red.
The man stopped moving. He looked down at you slowly, sharp green eyes narrowing as they took in every detail: your torn and filthy wedding dress, the cuts on your face and feet, the desperate tears, the way you knelt before him like a supplicant before a god of slaughter.
He flicked the long knife shut with a loud, metallic click that echoed in the quiet street.
“Not my problem, princess,” he rumbled. His voice was deep, low, and rough — like gravel being dragged across stone. There was no pity in it. “I don’t hide runaways. Go beg somewhere else before you bring trouble to my shop.”
You stayed on your knees, fingers still twisted tight in the bloody hem of his apron. Tears kept falling, mixing with the dirt on your cheeks. “Please… I have nowhere else. They’ll find me by morning. Lord Kato will—”
Footsteps. Soft, quick, coming from the narrow alley beside the butcher shop.
Three women emerged into the lantern light, their shawls pulled tight against the night chill, each carrying a small lantern. They stopped short at the sight of you kneeling in your ruined white gown in front of the massive butcher.
“Gods above,” the tallest one gasped. “Is that a wedding dress? Child, what in the world happened to you?”
The women hurried closer, lanterns swinging. Warm golden light spilled over your torn satin, the mud-caked hem, the blood from his apron smeared across your bodice and hands. One of the younger women pressed a hand to her mouth. “She’s bleeding… and look at her feet!”
You looked down at yourself — the once-beautiful dress now filthy and shredded — then up at the stranger towering over you. His green eyes were narrowed in clear irritation, jaw clenched like he was seconds away from shoving you into the street and bolting the door.
A wild, desperate plan came to your mind.
You pushed yourself up on shaky legs, ignoring the sharp pain in your cut feet. Before he could step away, you grabbed his large, calloused hand with both of yours, clinging desperately. His palm was warm, rough, and still faintly sticky with dried blood.
Turning to the three women with the most exhausted yet radiant smile you could force, you announced clearly:
“This is my husband.”
The words rang in the quiet night air.
The women froze.
You kept going, voice trembling but determined. “We were married in secret this evening. My family didn’t approve — they tried to sell me off to a cruel lord to settle their debts. So I ran away through the forest to reach him. The dress… it got ruined on the way, but I’m here now. I’m exactly where I belong.”
Silence stretched for a heartbeat.
Then the women erupted.
“The butcher got married?!” the tallest one exclaimed, eyes wide. “Toji Fushiguro actually took a wife? I never thought I’d live to see the day!”
One of the younger women clapped her hands together, beaming. “Look at her, even all torn up she’s lovely! Brave thing, running through the woods in the middle of the night just to get to her husband.”
The third woman laughed warmly. “We’ll bring fresh bread and some stew first thing in the morning for you newlyweds. Can’t have Toji’s new wife going hungry on her first day here!”
Toji.
So that was his name. Toji Fushiguro.
You felt the man — Toji — stiffen beside you. His massive hand twitched hard in your grip, muscles flexing like he was fighting the urge to rip free and deny everything. His sharp green eyes burned into the side of your face, dark with fury and silent threat. But the women were watching excitedly. The whole village would know the story by sunrise if he contradicted you now.
You squeezed his hand tighter, nails digging into his skin in a silent, desperate plea. Please. Just play along.
Toji’s scarred jaw flexed. A low, dangerous growl rumbled deep in his chest. For one terrifying second you thought he might expose you.
Then, in the flattest, most reluctant voice you had ever heard, he grunted:
“…Yeah. She’s mine now. Wife.”
The women squealed with delight. They offered more congratulations, promised gifts for the “newlyweds,” and finally bustled away down the dark street, lanterns bobbing and their voices already carrying the juicy news.
The moment their footsteps faded, Toji’s grip turned bruising. He yanked you forward so hard you stumbled against his broad, solid chest, then dragged you roughly through the open door of the butcher shop. The heavy oak door slammed shut behind you with a resounding thud that rattled the walls.
Inside, the air was thick and heavy — cold iron, raw meat, woodsmoke, and the faint metallic tang of fresh blood. A single lantern burned low on the wooden counter, casting long, flickering shadows over heavy chopping blocks, hanging meat hooks, and rows of sharp knives.
Toji spun you around and shoved your back against the closed door. One thick, powerful forearm braced beside your head, completely caging you in. His massive body loomed over yours, heat rolling off him in waves. The scent of blood, sweat, and raw masculinity filled your lungs.
His green eyes were dark with fury… and something much darker, much hungrier.
“What the fuck was that?” he snarled, voice low and lethal. “You just told half the goddamn village you’re my wife. You got any idea what you’ve done, little runaway?”
Your heart slammed against your ribs. You could feel the hard press of his chest against yours, the sheer size of him making you feel tiny and trapped.
“It was the only way,” you whispered, breathing fast. “They would’ve dragged me back to Lord Kato by morning if they knew the truth. Now they think I belong to you. No one will question it. Please… just let me stay the night. I’ll disappear at dawn, I swear it.”
Toji stared down at you for a long, heavy moment. His scarred mouth twisted into a slow, dangerous smirk. His free hand came up and gripped your chin firmly, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his intense green eyes.
“Disappear?” he growled, thumb pressing hard into your jaw. “Too late for that, princess. You just tied yourself to me in front of witnesses.”
He leaned in closer, so close his breath ghosted hot across your lips. His voice dropped even lower, rough and full of promise.
“You owe me now. Big time.”
His gaze dragged slowly down your body — over the torn white lace barely clinging to your curves, the bloodstains, the way your chest heaved with fear and adrenaline. He just held you there, pinned against the door, letting the heavy tension coil tighter and tighter between you.
“Upstairs,” he finally ordered, voice like gravel. “Now. We’re gonna have a long talk about what you just got yourself into.”
Toji didn’t give you time to argue.
His massive hand clamped around your upper arm like a steel band and he hauled you away from the door. You stumbled after him on aching, bleeding feet as he dragged you through the back of the shop. The scent of raw meat grew thicker near the cold room, but he turned toward a narrow wooden staircase tucked behind a heavy curtain.
“Move,” he growled when you hesitated at the bottom step.
You climbed. Each step sent fresh pain shooting up your legs, but you bit your lip and kept going. Toji followed close behind, his heavy boots loud on the old wood, one hand still gripping your arm so you couldn’t possibly run.
The stairs opened directly into a small, sparse apartment above the butcher shop. It was surprisingly clean for a man who spent his days covered in blood. A single main room served as both living space and kitchen — a sturdy wooden table with two chairs, a stone hearth with dying embers, a few shelves holding jars of preserved meat and dried herbs. A narrow hallway led to what you assumed were the bedroom and washroom. Moonlight spilled through two small windows, painting everything in cool silver.
Toji kicked the door at the top of the stairs shut behind him and finally released your arm. You immediately backed up a few steps, the torn hem of your wedding dress whispering across the floorboards.
He folded his thick arms across his broad chest, blood-stained apron still tied around his waist, and stared at you like you were a problem he was deciding how to carve up.
“Start talking,” he said flatly. “And don’t leave anything out. Who the fuck are you, why is a lord hunting you, and why the hell did you decide to drag me into your mess?”
You swallowed hard, still catching your breath. You introduced yourself by name, then continued quietly, “My family is in debt. Deep debt. They sold me to Lord Kato yesterday to settle it. He’s a cruel man. Three wives before me, and none of them lasted long. He told my father in front of me what he plans to do on our wedding night.” Your voice cracked. “I couldn’t stay. I ran in the only thing of value I had — this dress. I thought maybe I could sell it in a village for enough coin to disappear.”
Toji’s green eyes flicked over the ruined white lace clinging to your body — torn, muddy, bloodstained. He let out a low, humorless snort.
“And instead of keeping your mouth shut and hiding somewhere quiet, you decided the best plan was to announce to the biggest gossips in the village that you’re married to the local butcher.” He took one heavy step closer. “You realize what you’ve done?”
You nodded quickly. “They won’t hand me over now. Not if they think I belong to you. The whole village will protect the butcher’s wife… right?”
Toji laughed — a short, dark sound that sent a shiver down your spine.
“Protect?” He shook his head. “You just painted a target on my back too, princess. Lord Kato isn’t the type to let his property run off. When he comes looking — and he will come looking — he’s going to hear all about how the village butcher stole his bride.”
He dragged a large hand down his face, clearly pissed off, but there was something else in his expression now. A glint of dark amusement. Maybe even reluctant interest.
“You’re either the bravest idiot I’ve ever met… or the most cunning.”
You stood there trembling in the middle of his living room, arms wrapped around yourself. The torn bodice of the dress had slipped dangerously low on your shoulders, but you didn’t dare fix it.
“I’ll leave at first light,” you promised again, softer this time. “I won’t cause you any more trouble. Just… let me stay until sunrise. Please, Toji.”
Hearing his name from your lips made his eyes narrow.
“Don’t,” he warned. “You don’t get to say my name like we’re actually married.”
He turned away from you and walked over to the small hearth. He crouched down, added two fresh logs, and stoked the fire back to life with practiced efficiency. The warm orange glow slowly filled the room, chasing away some of the chill.
When he stood again, he looked even bigger in the firelight — shoulders impossibly wide, muscles shifting under the thin tank top, the scar at his mouth pulling as he scowled.
“Sit,” he ordered, nodding toward one of the wooden chairs at the table. “You’re bleeding all over my floor.”
You obeyed, lowering yourself carefully onto the chair. The moment you sat, exhaustion crashed into you like a wave. Your feet throbbed. Every cut and bruise ached. You were filthy, terrified, and running on nothing but fear and adrenaline.
Toji disappeared down the short hallway and returned a minute later with a metal basin, a clean rag, and a small jar. He set the basin on the floor in front of you, then dropped into the chair across the table, watching you with those sharp green eyes.
“Clean your feet,” he said gruffly. “I’m not carrying you around if they get infected.”
You dipped the rag into the water and started wiping away the mud and blood as carefully as you could. The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy. The fire crackled. Outside, the village was completely quiet.
Toji leaned back in his chair, arms crossed again, studying you like livestock.
“You really think this marriage story is gonna hold?” he asked after a long minute. “Village folk love to talk. By noon tomorrow everyone’s gonna want to meet my mysterious bride.”
You kept your eyes on your injured feet. “I just need a day or two to figure out where to go next. I can… I can work. I’m not useless. I can clean, cook, help in the shop—”
Toji’s low chuckle cut you off.
“You? Working in a butcher shop?” He shook his head. “You look like you’ve never touched anything bloodier than a sewing needle in your life.”
He watched you struggle to clean a deep cut on your sole for another moment before he made an irritated sound and leaned forward.
“Give me your foot.”
You hesitated.
“Now,” he growled.
You slowly lifted your leg. Toji took your ankle in his huge, rough hand — surprisingly gentle despite the calluses and dried blood on his fingers. He pulled the basin closer and started cleaning your wounds himself with careful, efficient movements.
The contrast was jarring: this terrifying mountain of a man, covered in someone else’s blood, carefully tending to your torn-up feet.
“You’re staying the night,” he said quietly, not looking up from his work. “Not because I’m kind. Because if I throw you out now, those three hens will ask questions I don’t feel like answering. Tomorrow we figure out what the hell to do with you.”
He finished cleaning one foot and moved to the other. His thumb brushed accidentally over a sensitive spot and you hissed softly.
Toji’s eyes flicked up to your face for a second, something unreadable flashing across his expression.
“After that…” He set your foot down carefully and leaned back again, voice dropping into a low, dangerous rumble. “You’re gonna start paying off the trouble you just caused me.”
He didn’t explain what that meant.
But the way he was looking at you — slow, heavy, possessive — made heat crawl up your neck despite the fear.
Toji held your gaze for another long moment before he finally released your ankle. He pushed the basin aside with his boot and stood, towering over you once more. The firelight danced across the hard lines of his face, catching on the jagged scar at the corner of his mouth.
“Stay there,” he muttered.
He disappeared into the back room again. You heard the sound of water splashing, then heavy footsteps returning. When he came back, he carried a thick wool blanket and a tin cup. He set the cup in front of you — it was filled with cool water — and dropped the blanket over the back of your chair.
“Drink,” he ordered. “You look half-dead.”
You obeyed without thinking, your hands still trembling slightly as you lifted the cup. The water was clean and cold, soothing your raw throat. Toji watched you drink the entire thing, arms crossed, before he spoke again.
You lowered the empty cup. “Thank you… for the water. And for cleaning my feet.”
He made a dismissive sound in the back of his throat, like thanks made him uncomfortable. Then he leaned against the edge of the table, close enough that his thigh nearly brushed your arm.
“You really thought this through?” he asked, voice low. “Running in a fancy white dress, announcing yourself as my wife in front of the nosiest women in the village… What’s your actual plan once the sun comes up?”
You stared down at your bandaged feet. “I didn’t have time for a real plan. I just knew I couldn’t let them marry me off to that monster. I thought if I could get far enough away, maybe sell the dress, I could buy passage on a cart or a boat. Start over somewhere no one knows me.”
Toji exhaled through his nose, almost a laugh but darker. “Selling that dress would’ve gotten you robbed or worse before you even reached the next town. You’re lucky you only made it as far as my doorstep.”
Silence settled again, broken only by the crackling fire. You pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders, suddenly aware of how exposed you still were — the torn bodice of the wedding gown hanging loosely, the lace ripped in several places, dirt and dried blood streaked across your skin.
Toji’s eyes drifted over you again, slower this time. They lingered on the curve of your shoulder where the dress had slipped, the rise and fall of your chest, the way the white fabric clung to your thighs.
“You look ridiculous,” he said bluntly. “Like a bride who lost a fight with a pack of wolves.”
Despite everything, a tiny, tired smile tugged at your lips. “That’s… not far from the truth.”
He pushed off the table and walked over to a wooden chest in the corner. He rummaged inside and pulled out a large, worn linen shirt — clearly one of his. It looked big enough to reach your knees.
“Here.” He tossed it to you. “Can’t have you walking around my place looking like that. Change. There’s a washroom down the hall if you want to clean up more.”
You clutched the shirt to your chest. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” he warned. “You’re still in my house. Still wearing that damn dress that’s going to bring trouble to my door.”
He turned his back to give you a moment of privacy, busying himself by adding another log to the fire. You quickly stood, wincing at the pain in your feet, and slipped behind the partial wall that separated the washroom. You peeled off the ruined wedding dress with shaking hands, letting the torn fabric pool at your feet. The cool air kissed your bare skin as you pulled Toji’s shirt over your head. It smelled faintly of smoke, soap, and something unmistakably masculine. The hem fell halfway down your thighs.
When you stepped back out, Toji turned around. His eyes darkened the moment they landed on you in his shirt.
“Better,” he grunted, though his voice sounded rougher than before.
He gestured toward the narrow hallway. “Bedroom’s at the end. Only one bed. You take it tonight. I’ll sleep out here.”
You hesitated. “I can sleep on the floor. I’ve already caused enough—”
“Don’t argue,” he cut you off. “My house, my rules. Get some sleep. You look like you’re about to fall over.”
You walked carefully down the short hall, every step still painful. The bedroom was small and simple like the rest of the apartment — a large wooden bed with thick blankets, a single chair, and a window overlooking the dark village street. You climbed onto the bed, pulling the covers over yourself.
Toji appeared in the doorway a minute later, leaning one broad shoulder against the frame. The firelight from the main room silhouetted his massive form.
“Door stays open,” he said. “And don’t even think about sneaking out in the middle of the night. If I have to chase you down, I won’t be in a generous mood.”
You nodded, sinking deeper into the mattress. Exhaustion was pulling at you hard now, but sleep still felt far away with him standing there watching you.
“Toji…” you whispered.
He raised an eyebrow.
“Thank you,” you said again, softer. “For not throwing me out.”
His expression didn’t soften, but something in his eyes shifted. He pushed off the doorframe and turned to leave.
“Get some sleep, runaway,” he muttered. “You’re gonna need it.”
He left the door wide open. You heard him moving around in the main room — the creak of the wooden chair as he sat down, the quiet clink of a cup. The fire continued to crackle.
You lay there in his bed, wrapped in his shirt, the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on you. The fake marriage. The village women who now believed you were his wife. Lord Kato still out there searching. And the terrifying, strangely careful butcher who had just tended to your wounds and given you his bed.
Sleep finally claimed you, but even in your dreams you could still feel the heavy weight of Toji’s gaze on your skin.
You woke to the sound of knocking.
It was loud, cheerful, and relentless — three sharp raps on the shop door downstairs, followed by muffled feminine voices. Sunlight streamed through the small bedroom window, warm and golden. For a brief, disoriented moment you forgot where you were. Then everything crashed back: the forest, the blood-stained butcher, the lie you’d told.
You sat up quickly. Toji’s oversized linen shirt had ridden up your thighs during the night. Your feet still ached, but the bandages held firm. You heard heavy footsteps downstairs, then Toji’s low, irritated growl as he opened the door.
“Morning!” a cheerful woman’s voice called up. “We brought breakfast for the newlyweds! Fresh bread, stew, and honey cakes. Don’t tell us you’re still in bed on your wedding night!”
Another woman giggled. “We’re dying to meet your bride properly!”
Toji’s heavy footsteps came up the stairs. He appeared in the bedroom doorway, looking imposing in the daylight. He wore a clean black tunic stretched tight across his chest, the same blood-stained apron tied around his waist. His hair was messy, jaw set with clear annoyance.
“They’re here,” he said flatly. “Three of them. Loaded with food.”
Your stomach twisted. “What do we do?”
Toji’s green eyes dragged over you — bare legs, wearing nothing but his shirt. Something dark flickered across his face.
“You sold us as newlyweds,” he reminded you, voice low. “So act like it. Smile. Look happy. Keep the story straight.”
He stepped closer and tugged the hem of the shirt down your thighs possessively. “There’s a spare skirt and blouse in the chest. Change. Quickly.”
You moved fast, wincing at the pain in your feet. Toji turned his back while you dressed in the simple dark green skirt and cream blouse. They were a little loose but far more practical.
When you were ready, Toji gave you one last look and jerked his head toward the stairs. “Downstairs. Remember — you’re my wife.”
The three women had already let themselves into the front of the shop. They had laid out a generous spread on the wooden counter: warm bread, a pot of hearty stew, honey cakes, and spiced cider. The moment you appeared behind Toji, their faces lit up.
“Oh, here she is!” the tallest, round-faced woman exclaimed. “Look at you, dear. Much better than last night. I’m Mrs. Sato, by the way! My husband runs the bakery just down the street.” She gestured to the other two. “This is Mira and little Hana.”
The younger women smiled warmly.
“You clean up beautifully,” Mira said. “You already have that newlywed glow!”
You felt heat rise in your cheeks. Toji’s large hand settled heavily on your lower back, warm and claiming.
“Thank you,” you said, offering a shy smile. “You’re all so kind. I’m sorry for how I looked last night… the journey through the forest was harder than I expected.”
Mrs. Sato waved her hand. “No apologies needed! Running away from a bad match to be with the man you love? It’s the most romantic thing to happen in this village in years.”
Toji grunted, his thumb slowly stroking your spine. “Wasn’t exactly planned,” he said dryly. “But here we are.”
The women laughed and chattered while you helped serve the food. They asked how you met, how long you’d been secretly courting, and whether you planned to stay in the village. You answered carefully, sticking close to the story. Toji added short, gruff confirmations, never moving far from your side.
Just as the women were gathering their empty baskets to leave, a loud, sharp knock echoed through the shop.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
This knock was different — heavy, authoritative, and impatient.
Toji’s hand tensed on your back. His expression hardened instantly.
Mrs. Sato glanced toward the door, curious. “Are you expecting more visitors already?”
Toji didn’t answer. He moved toward the door, positioning himself so his broad frame blocked most of the view inside. You stayed behind the counter, heart suddenly hammering.
He opened the door.
Two armed men stood outside, wearing the dark crimson and gold colors of Lord Kato’s household. Swords hung at their hips. Their eyes scanned the interior of the shop coldly.
“We’re searching for a missing girl,” the taller guard announced. “Runaway bride. White wedding dress. She fled the lord’s estate last night. Anyone matching that description come through here?”
The air in the shop grew thick. Mrs. Sato and the other two women turned to look at you with wide eyes, then back at the guards.
Toji’s voice was calm but ice-cold. “No one like that here.”
The second guard tried to peer past him. “Mind if we take a look inside?”
You stayed frozen behind the counter, heart hammering. Before Toji could answer, Mrs. Sato stepped forward with the confidence of someone who had gossiped through every scandal the village had ever seen.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she said brightly, waving a hand. “You boys are wasting your time. That right there is Toji Fushiguro — our butcher for the last fifteen years. We’ve known him since he was a surly teenager dragging whole pigs through these doors!”
Mira immediately jumped in, nodding eagerly. “And he has a wife! They’ve been happily married for two whole years now. We were at their quiet little wedding ourselves. Very romantic.”
Hana clapped her hands together dramatically. “Yes! They’re the sweetest couple. Toji can barely keep his hands off her even when he’s covered in blood. Always canoodling right outside the shop like they’re still courting!”
Mrs. Sato leaned toward the guards like she was sharing precious village lore. “Honestly, if some runaway noble girl in a fancy white dress had shown up here last night, the entire village would’ve known before sunrise. This dear girl has been living above the shop for ages. Helps Toji with the accounts and everything. She’s no fugitive — she’s the butcher’s wife, plain and simple.”
Toji finally moved. He reached back with one thick arm, caught you around the waist, and pulled you forward against his side in one smooth motion. His grip was firm and possessive, his large hand resting heavily on your hip as he held you close.
The guards blinked, clearly thrown by the united front.
The taller one squinted at you. “But the missing girl was wearing a white wedding dress…”
Mira let out a theatrical laugh. “Plenty of white dresses in the world! Our girl here has been wearing plain village clothes for years. Look at her — does she look like some pampered noble who ran away last night?”
Hana nodded vigorously. “Exactly! She even makes the best meat pies in the village. We’d know if she was some lord’s bride.”
The two guards exchanged uncertain glances. Between Toji’s intimidating size, the three women’s absolute certainty, and the perfectly domestic scene in front of them, their suspicion melted away.
The shorter guard cleared his throat. “Seems like a false lead, then. Sorry to bother you folks.”
The taller one gave a reluctant nod. “Apologies for the intrusion. If you hear anything about a girl in a white dress, send word to the lord’s estate.”
Mrs. Sato smiled sweetly. “Of course, dears. Safe travels back!”
The guards turned and walked off down the street without another word.
The moment the door clicked shut, Mrs. Sato burst into laughter and fanned herself. “Well! That was more excitement than we usually get before noon.”
Mira winked at you. “Don’t worry, love. We’ve got your back. No one’s taking the butcher’s wife anywhere.”
Hana grinned. “We’ll spread the word. The whole village will keep an eye out.”
Toji gave them a short, gruff nod. “Appreciate it.”
The women gathered their empty baskets, still buzzing, and finally left with more promises of future visits and gifts.
The shop fell quiet again, morning sunlight streaming peacefully through the windows.
Toji slowly turned to face you. His hand was still on your waist, heavy and warm. For a long moment he just studied you, green eyes dark and intense.
“You’re damn lucky those three are the nosiest women alive,” he muttered. “They just sold that story better than we could’ve.”
He stepped closer, backing you gently against the counter. His voice dropped low, rough around the edges.
“So the whole village’s got our back it seems.” His thumb brushed slowly over your hip bone. “This lie keeps growing. Whole village thinks you’re mine now.”
His gaze dropped to your lips for a heartbeat before returning to your eyes.
“So tell me, runaway… how long do you plan on playing my wife? And how far are you willing to go to make everyone believe it?”
You swallowed, suddenly very aware of how close he was. The counter pressed into your lower back, and Toji’s broad body blocked out most of the morning light. His hand remained heavy on your hip, thumb still tracing slow, absent circles that made your skin prickle beneath the thin blouse.
“I… I don’t know,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t think past getting away from Lord Kato. I just wanted to survive the night.”
Toji hummed, low and thoughtful. He tilted his head slightly, studying your face like he was trying to decide whether you were worth the growing headache you’d brought him.
“Surviving isn’t enough anymore,” he said. “Not after this morning. Those guards will report back. When they don’t find you, Kato will send more men. Maybe even come himself.” His fingers flexed on your hip. “And the whole village now believes you’re mine. If the story breaks, they’ll look like fools. They won’t forgive that easily.”
You met his eyes, heart thudding. “Then what do we do?”
For a moment he didn’t answer. Instead he reached up with his free hand and brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, the gesture surprisingly gentle for someone so rough-looking. His calloused fingertips lingered against the side of your neck.
“We lean into it,” he finally said. “Hard. You stay. You act like my wife in public — every smile, every touch, every time someone knocks on that door. No slipping up. No running off when it gets hard.”
He leaned in a fraction closer, voice dropping. “And in private… we figure out the real terms.”
Your breath caught. “Real terms?”
Toji’s scarred mouth curved into a slow, dangerous half-smirk. “You cost me peace and quiet, runaway. You cost me the simple life where nobody bothered me. So you’re going to start paying me back.”
He didn’t elaborate, but the heat in his green eyes made it very clear what kind of payment he had in mind.
“I won’t force you,” he continued, surprising you. “Door’s right there. You can still walk out and take your chances on the road. But if you stay…” His hand slid from your hip to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. “Then you’re mine until this blows over. Or longer. Depends how good you are at pretending.”
The solid wall of his chest pressed against you, warm and unyielding. You could smell faint traces of smoke, soap, and the metallic hint of blood that never quite left him. Your hands came up instinctively, resting lightly on his abdomen.
“I’m not pretending right now,” you whispered.
Toji’s eyes darkened. For a second you thought he might kiss you — really kiss you — but he held back, letting the tension stretch until it was almost unbearable.
“Good,” he murmured. “Because the village expects a devoted wife. They’ll be watching. Bringing food. Asking questions. Asking when we’re going to have little butchers running around.”
Your face burned. Toji chuckled, deep and rough, clearly enjoying your reaction.
“Don’t worry. We’ll give them a good show.” He finally stepped back, giving you room to breathe again, though his hand lingered on your waist a moment longer. “For now, help me open the shop. Act natural. If anyone else comes asking, you know what to say.”
You nodded, still flushed.
As he turned to start his morning routine — sharpening knives, hanging fresh cuts, preparing the counter — you moved to help where you could. Every time you passed near him, his hand would brush your lower back or arm — small, deliberate touches that looked casual to anyone watching but felt heavy with intent.
By midday, a few villagers had already stopped by “just to say hello” and congratulate the newlyweds. Each time, Toji played his part perfectly — gruff, possessive, pulling you close with an ease that made the performance feel dangerously real.
An older man dropped off a small basket of eggs and clapped Toji on the back. “Didn’t think I’d live to see you settle down, Fushiguro. She must be something special.”
Toji’s arm tightened around your waist as he gave a low grunt. “She is.” His fingers flexed against your side, warm through the fabric of your blouse. You leaned into him instinctively, playing along, and felt the solid wall of muscle beneath his tunic.
A young mother came next with her toddler in tow, offering a jar of preserved berries. She smiled at you brightly. “You two look so good together. How long have you been hiding her from us, Toji?”
“Long enough,” he answered, voice rough but carrying a hint of smugness. He pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to the top of your head right in front of her. The casual affection made your stomach flutter.
By early afternoon the steady trickle of visitors finally slowed. Toji flipped the shop sign to “Closed for the Day” and locked the front door with a heavy click. The sudden silence felt louder than all the chatter combined.
You let out a shaky breath and leaned against the counter, arms wrapped around yourself. “They really believe it. All of them.”
Toji wiped his hands on a rag, watching you from across the room. He tossed the rag aside and stalked toward you, slow and deliberate.
Gods, he was huge.
Up close like this, in the quiet afternoon light, the sheer size of him hit you all over again. Broad shoulders that seemed to stretch the fabric of his black tunic, thick arms corded with muscle from years of hauling heavy carcasses, a powerful chest that rose and fell steadily. The jagged scar at the corner of his mouth only made him more striking — dangerous, rough, and strangely, undeniably attractive. Those sharp green eyes pinned you in place, intimidating as ever, yet there was something magnetic about the way he moved. Like a predator who knew exactly how much power he held and chose not to use it… yet.
He stopped right in front of you, so close you had to tilt your head back to meet his gaze. One large hand came up to cup your chin, thumb brushing along your jaw.
“You’re handling this better than I expected,” he said quietly.
You felt your pulse quicken under his touch. “I feel like I’m going to faint every time someone looks at me.”
His thumb stroked slowly over your skin. “You’re not fainting. You’re standing here in my shop, wearing my clothes, letting me touch you like you belong to me.” His voice dropped lower. “Looks pretty convincing from where I’m standing.”
The air between you thickened. You could smell the faint mix of blood, woodsmoke, and clean sweat that clung to him. His sheer physical presence was overwhelming — the heat rolling off his massive frame, the way his broad chest nearly brushed against you with every breath.
“What happens when the guards come back?” you asked, voice softer than you intended.
Toji’s expression darkened. “Then we give them the same show. Or I handle it my way.” His hand slid from your chin to the back of your neck, fingers threading gently into your hair. “But right now? Shop’s closed. No more visitors. No more pretending for a little while.”
He didn’t move away. Neither did you.
Instead, you found yourself leaning into his touch, exhaustion and adrenaline twisting into something warmer, heavier. Your hands rose to rest on his chest, feeling the hard, solid muscle beneath your palms.
“Toji…” you started, unsure what you even wanted to say.
He cut you off with a low sound. “Careful. You keep saying my name like that and I might start believing this marriage is real myself.”
His grip on the back of your neck tightened just slightly — not painful, but enough to remind you how easily he could pull you in. His green eyes dropped to your mouth, lingering this time, dark with hunger.
“You still haven’t answered my question from earlier,” he murmured. “How far are you willing to go, runaway?”
The shop was quiet except for the distant sounds of village life outside. No one was watching now. It was just the two of you, the weight of the lie, and the growing, electric heat between you.
You wet your lips, heart racing.
“I’m still here,” you whispered. “That should tell you something.”
Toji’s scarred mouth curved into a slow, hungry smirk.
“Yeah,” he said, voice rough. “It does.”
The silence that followed felt heavier than before. The shop was quiet now, the afternoon light cutting sharp lines across the wooden floor and the rows of knives hanging on the wall. Toji didn’t step back. He stayed right there, towering over you, one hand still gripping the back of your neck while the other rested heavy on your hip.
He really was massive up close.
Broad shoulders that strained his tunic, thick arms veined and scarred from years of brutal work, a chest so solid it looked like it could take a hit from a horse and keep going. The scar at the corner of his mouth gave his face a permanent edge, dangerous and rough. Yet there was something about the way he looked at you — intense green eyes, half-lidded, focused — that made your stomach tighten in a way that had nothing to do with fear.
Toji noticed you staring.
“Eyes up here,” he muttered, but the corner of his scarred mouth twitched like he was amused. “You keep looking at me like that and I’m gonna get the wrong idea.”
You swallowed. “I’ve never been this close to someone like you.”
“Someone like me,” he repeated, almost mocking. He leaned in a little more, voice dropping low. “Big, ugly butcher covered in blood half the time?”
You shook your head. “Not ugly.”
The words slipped out before you could stop them. Toji paused, eyes narrowing slightly like he was trying to decide if you were lying. Then he let out a short, rough breath.
His thumb brushed slowly along the side of your neck, calloused and warm. You could feel the strength in his hand, how easily he could tighten his grip if he wanted. The contrast between that raw power and the way he was holding back made the air feel thick.
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he said quietly. His gaze dropped to your mouth for a second before flicking back up. “I’m not a patient man, runaway. And I’m definitely not a gentle one.”
Your hands were still pressed against his chest. Under your palms, his muscles were firm and warm, shifting slightly with each breath. You didn’t pull away.
“I know,” you whispered.
Toji’s jaw flexed. For a moment his control looked strained — shoulders tense, fingers pressing harder into your skin. He leaned down until his face was inches from yours, close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath.
“If you stay,” he said, voice low and deliberate, “this stops being fake whenever I say it does. Behind this door, you won’t be playing a role. You’ll be in my bed. Under me. Taking what I give you.” His thumb dragged across your lower lip. “And you’ll moan my name like you mean it.”
Your breath caught.
Toji held your gaze for another long second, then slowly released you. He stepped back, rolling one shoulder like he needed to shake off the tension. The sudden space felt colder than it should have.
“But not right now,” he added gruffly. “You’re still half-dead on your feet and I’ve got work to finish before the meat spoils.”
He turned toward the back counter and picked up his sharpening stone. The steady scrape of metal filled the shop as he worked on one of his larger knives. You stayed by the front counter, watching the way his back and arms moved — powerful, efficient, every motion reminding you exactly what kind of man had just offered to claim you.
Every so often he glanced over at you, eyes dark and unreadable.
The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable. It was charged. Heavy with everything neither of you was saying out loud.
After a while, Toji spoke without looking up from his work.
“You hungry?”
You blinked, surprised by the sudden normal question. “A little.”
He jerked his head toward the stairs. “There’s leftover stew from this morning in the pot upstairs. Heat it up if you want. Or stay down here. Doesn’t matter to me.”
You hesitated, then moved to help him organize the counter instead. Every time you passed close by, his arm would brush yours — deliberate, not accidental. Small reminders that the tension hadn’t gone anywhere.
The afternoon stretched on like that. Quiet work. Occasional glances. The weight of his presence never really leaving you.
By the time the sun had fully set and the village outside grew dark and quiet, the tension between you had only thickened. Lanterns flickered in distant windows, but inside the butcher shop everything felt hushed and intimate.
Toji locked the front door with a heavy click and killed most of the lanterns, leaving only a single low one burning near the stairs. The warm glow followed you both upstairs, casting long shadows across the wooden beams.
He grabbed a spare blanket from the chest and headed for the worn couch against the far wall without a word. The piece of furniture looked comically small beneath his massive frame as he tossed the blanket over it. Then he reached back and pulled his tunic off in one smooth motion.
Your mouth went dry.
Firelight danced over his bare back and shoulders — thick slabs of muscle shifting under scarred skin, powerful arms flexing as he folded the tunic. His waist tapered into a sharp V, disappearing beneath the waistband of his trousers. Every inch of him looked hard, battle-worn, and undeniably masculine. The sight made something low in your belly tighten.
You stood frozen in the bedroom doorway.
“Wait,” you said, voice barely louder than a whisper.
Toji glanced over his shoulder, one dark brow raised. The movement made the muscles in his chest and abdomen flex visibly.
You twisted your fingers in the hem of your blouse, cheeks already burning.
“You don’t have to sleep on the couch,” you offered shyly. “The bed is… big enough for both of us. I don’t mind sharing.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
Toji slowly turned around to face you fully. The low firelight carved deep shadows across his torso, highlighting every ridge of muscle, every old scar, the faint trail of dark hair disappearing into his trousers. He looked even bigger like this — raw power barely contained, green eyes locked on you with dangerous intensity.
He took one slow step closer, then another.
“Careful what you offer me, runaway,” he said, voice low and gravel-rough. “I’m not the type to hold back.”
You swallowed hard but didn’t back away.
“I just… it doesn’t feel right making you sleep on that tiny thing after everything,” you murmured, eyes flicking involuntarily down his bare chest before snapping back up. “We’re supposed to be married. At least to everyone else.”
Toji stopped just inches away from you. The heat radiating from his body wrapped around you like a cloak. You could smell him — smoke, clean sweat, and that faint metallic trace that always clung to his skin. His sheer size made you feel small and fragile in comparison.
He tilted his head, studying you like prey.
“You offering to share my bed isn’t about being polite,” he murmured. “If I get in that bed with you, I’m not staying on my side. I’ll pull you against me. I’ll have my hands all over that soft little body. And if you keep looking at me with those wide, needy eyes…”
He leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke.
“I won’t be able to stop myself from spreading those pretty thighs and finding out exactly how wet pretending to be my wife has made you.”
Your breath hitched sharply. Heat flooded your face and pooled between your legs. You pressed your thighs together instinctively, but Toji noticed — of course he did. A dark, satisfied sound rumbled in his chest.
He pulled back just enough to look at your face again, eyes heavy-lidded and hungry.
“I’m not gentle,” he continued, voice dropping even lower. “I fuck hard. I take what I want. And right now, I want to ruin that shy little runaway who dropped to her knees at my door and turned my whole life upside down.”
His hand came up, knuckles lightly dragging down the side of your neck, over your racing pulse, then lower until they brushed the neckline of your blouse. Not quite touching skin, but close enough to make you shiver.
“So think very carefully before you offer again,” he warned. “Because once I’m in that bed, the only pretending left will be how long you can keep quiet while I’m buried inside you.”
The air felt too thick to breathe.
Toji’s scarred mouth curved into a slow, predatory smirk as he watched the effect his words had on you.
“Still want to share a bed with me… wife?”
Toji’s words hung heavy in the air.
You didn’t answer with words.
You looked up at him, heart hammering so hard you could feel it in your throat, and gave a small, shy nod.
That was all it took.
Toji’s control snapped. A low, almost feral sound rumbled in his chest as he moved. In one fluid motion he scooped you up, one thick arm under your knees and the other around your back, lifting you like you weighed nothing. Your breath caught at how easily he carried you — his biceps flexing hard against your body, the heat of his bare chest pressing into your side.
He carried you the few steps to the bed and laid you down on your back with surprising care, but the look in his eyes was anything but gentle. The mattress dipped deeply under his weight as he climbed over you, caging you in completely with his massive frame. His broad shoulders blocked out most of the firelight, leaving you in shadow beneath him.
“You a virgin?” he asked, voice low and rough, green eyes searching yours like he was looking for any hesitation.
You nodded again, cheeks burning with embarrassment.
“Fuck,” he breathed, the word almost reverent. His gaze darkened as it dragged slowly down your body. “Gonna have to take my time with you then. Can’t wreck this tight little virgin cunt on the first thrust.”
He kissed you deeply, tongue claiming your mouth in slow, filthy strokes while his rough hands explored every inch of you. He took his time peeling your clothes off — first tugging your blouse over your head, then sliding your skirt down your legs, and finally hooking his fingers into your soaked panties and dragging them off. When you were completely naked beneath him, he sat back on his heels and just stared, drinking in every inch of your exposed body like a man who’d been starving for weeks.
“So fucking small,” he muttered, almost to himself. His large hands ran up your thighs, thumbs brushing the sensitive skin on the inside, then spread your legs wide open. “Look at this pretty virgin pussy… already glistening and I’ve barely touched you.”
The cool air hit your wet folds and you shivered. Toji’s eyes were locked between your legs, dark and hungry, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
He lowered himself between your spread thighs like a man on a mission. The first slow, hot drag of his tongue from your entrance all the way up to your clit made your entire body jolt. Toji groaned deeply at your taste, the sound vibrating straight through you.
“Sweet as hell,” he rasped, voice thick with lust. “Could eat this pussy for hours.”
Then he devoured you.
His tongue worked in slow, broad strokes, licking every inch of your soaked folds before focusing on your swollen clit. He sucked the sensitive bud into his hot mouth, flicking it rapidly with the tip of his tongue while two thick fingers teased your entrance, circling and pressing but not pushing in yet. When you started whimpering and rolling your hips, he finally pushed one thick finger inside you — careful, but relentless.
“So goddamn tight,” he growled against your pussy, the vibration making your toes curl. “This little hole is gonna fight my cock the whole way in.”
He curled his finger slowly, searching, until he found that spongy spot that made your back arch. He rubbed it firmly while sucking harder on your clit. The wet, obscene sounds of his mouth and fingers filled the quiet bedroom — slick, filthy, and loud. Your thighs started trembling around his head as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your belly.
“Toji— oh gods—”
He didn’t let up. He ate you out like he was starving for it — messy, hungry, and completely focused on pulling every sound out of you. He added a second finger, stretching you open carefully, scissoring them while his tongue flicked fast and firm over your clit. The pressure built unbearably fast.
Your orgasm crashed over you without warning. Your back arched clean off the bed as you came hard on his face with a broken, sobbing cry of his name. Your walls clamped down around his fingers, pulsing wildly.
Toji licked you through every wave, slow and thorough, drawing out every last tremor until you were twitching and oversensitive, whimpering softly. Only then did he pull back. His chin and lips were shiny with your slick. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes dark and satisfied as he looked up at your flushed, panting face.
Then he shoved his trousers down.
His cock sprang free — thick, heavy, veined, and longer than anything you’d ever imagined. The flushed head was already leaking steadily.
“See this?” he said, stroking himself slowly. “This is gonna stretch you wide open, baby. But I’ll make it fit.”
He climbed back over you, pushing your legs up and folding your knees toward your chest. The position left you completely exposed. He rubbed the fat head of his cock up and down your drenched folds, coating himself in your wetness, teasing your clit with every pass.
“Deep breaths,” he warned. “Gonna go slow.”
He pushed in.
The stretch was intense. You gasped sharply, a high-pitched whimper escaping you as just the thick head popped inside. “Ah—! Toji… it’s so big…”
Toji groaned, jaw clenched tight as he fought the urge to slam forward. “Fuck— so tight,” he hissed. “Relax for me, baby. Let me in.”
You whimpered softly, fingers clutching at his shoulders. “It burns… but— ah— don’t stop…”
He worked himself in inch by slow, careful inch. Every time you tensed, he stopped, leaning down to kiss your neck or suck on your tits until you loosened again. Sweat beaded on his forehead from the restraint.
Halfway in, you let out a shaky moan, eyes fluttering. “Oh gods… I can feel you so deep already…”
Toji looked down at the bulge already forming in your lower belly. “Shit… look at that,” he groaned, pressing a big hand over the swell. “My cock’s barely halfway and I can already see it inside you.”
When he finally bottomed out, hips flush against your ass, you felt so full you could barely breathe. A broken whimper left your lips. “T-Toji… you’re all the way in… I feel so full…”
Toji stayed still, buried to the hilt, letting you adjust while he kissed you slow and deep. “Good girl,” he praised, voice strained. “Taking every inch of my cock on your first time. Such a perfect little wife.”
When your whimpers turned into soft, needy moans, he started moving — slow, deep rolls of his hips at first. The wet drag of his thick cock against your walls made you cry out.
“Feel that?” he growled. “Feel how deep I am? Gonna breed this cunt so full tonight.”
“Ah—! Yes… I feel it,” you moaned, voice trembling. “It’s so deep… Toji—!”
His pace gradually picked up. The bed started creaking rhythmically as he fucked you harder, deeper. Your tits bounced with every thrust. You couldn’t stop the desperate sounds spilling from your mouth.
“Gonna fill you up,” he panted. “Pump this tight womb full of my cum until it takes. Want you walking around the village with my kid growing inside you. Everyone’s gonna know exactly who fucked you first.”
The filthy words sent you spiraling. “Please— Toji— I’m gonna—!” You came hard around his cock, walls fluttering and squeezing him like a vice as you screamed his name, “Toji—! Ahh—!”
Toji snarled and fucked you through it, pace turning brutal. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed loudly.
“Fuck— gonna cum,” he groaned. “Gonna breed you— take it all—”
You whimpered and moaned beneath him, voice hoarse, “Cum inside me… please— fill me up—!”
He slammed in deep one final time and came with a long, guttural moan. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded your pussy, pulse after heavy pulse. There was so much it leaked out around his cock despite how tightly you were stretched around him. Toji kept grinding deep, pushing every drop into your womb, hand pressing down on the bulge in your belly like he wanted to keep it all inside you.
You let out a soft, overwhelmed whimper at the feeling of being so full of him.
He stayed buried inside you for a long moment, chest heaving against yours, both of you slick with sweat.
Then he leaned down, kissed you slow and possessive, and murmured against your lips:
“This cunt belongs to me.”
Toji stayed inside you for a while longer, gently grinding and kissing your neck, before he finally pulled out with a low groan. A thick trickle of his cum leaked from your abused hole onto the sheets. He looked down at the mess with dark satisfaction, then rolled onto his back and pulled you against his chest.
“Rest now,” he said quietly, voice rough but surprisingly gentle as he wrapped a heavy arm around you. “You’ve had a long day, runaway. Close your eyes.”
He pressed one last kiss to the top of your head, his large hand resting possessively on your lower belly.
“Go to sleep.”
-
You woke up to warmth.
A heavy, solid arm was draped across your waist, pinning you to a broad chest. Toji’s body was curled around yours from behind, one thick thigh wedged between your legs. His breathing was slow and deep, but the moment you shifted even slightly, his grip tightened possessively.
The room was still dim, early morning light just beginning to creep through the small window. Your body ached — a deep, satisfying soreness between your thighs, faint bruises on your hips from his fingers, and the unmistakable sticky warmth of his cum still leaking out of you.
You tried to move again, but Toji’s low, sleepy growl stopped you.
“Stay,” he muttered against the back of your neck, voice rough with sleep. His hand slid down to cup your lower belly, pressing lightly. “Not done holding you yet.”
Heat rushed to your face. You stayed still, letting him pull you tighter against him. His cock — already half-hard again — rested heavy against your ass.
After a few quiet minutes, Toji sighed and finally loosened his grip. He rolled you onto your back so he could look down at you. His hair was messy, eyes still heavy-lidded, but the smirk on his scarred mouth was fully awake.
“Morning,” he said, voice gravelly. His hand stayed on your stomach, thumb stroking slow circles. “How’re you feeling?”
You shifted, wincing a little at the soreness. “Full… and sore,” you admitted softly.
Toji’s smirk widened into something darker, more satisfied. He leaned down and kissed you — slow and lazy at first, then deeper, tongue sliding against yours. When he pulled back, he dragged his hand lower, fingers brushing through the mess between your thighs.
“Still leaking my cum,” he murmured, almost proud. “Good.”
He pushed two thick fingers back inside you, slow and careful, fucking his dried cum deeper. You whimpered, hips twitching.
“Toji—”
“Shh,” he soothed, kissing your temple. “Not fucking you again right now. You’re too sore.” He kept his fingers inside you anyway, lazy and possessive. “Just keeping you full.”
You stayed like that for a while — his fingers buried inside you, his mouth brushing lazy kisses along your neck and shoulder. The morning was quiet except for the occasional creak of the bed and your soft sounds.
Eventually he pulled his fingers out, brought them to his mouth, and licked them clean while watching your face.
“Breakfast,” he said simply. “Then we open the shop.”
He got up first, completely naked and shameless. You couldn’t stop yourself from staring at the powerful lines of his back, the flex of his ass and thighs as he moved. He caught you looking and chuckled.
“Keep staring like that and I will bend you over the table downstairs,” he warned.
You quickly looked away, cheeks burning.
He tossed you one of his clean shirts and a fresh skirt. While you dressed, he pulled on his usual trousers and tank top, tying his blood-stained apron around his waist.
Before you left the bedroom, he caught your wrist and pulled you close one more time. His hand cupped your jaw, thumb brushing your bottom lip.
“Last night wasn’t pretend,” he said quietly, eyes serious. “Not for me. You’re mine. Understand?”
You swallowed and whispered, “I understand.”
He kissed you again — hard, claiming — then rested his forehead against yours for a second.
“Good.”
He led you downstairs, his hand firm on your lower back the entire way.
The village was waking up outside. And for the first time since you’d run away, you didn’t feel like running anymore.
Toji unlocked the front door and flipped the sign while you tied on a clean apron. The morning air carried the smell of fresh bread from Mrs. Sato’s bakery and the distant clang of the blacksmith’s hammer. A few early customers began drifting toward the shop.
The first hour passed in a surprisingly calm rhythm. You helped weigh portions, wrap cuts of meat in clean paper, and hand them over with a shy smile. Toji stayed close the whole time — sometimes reaching past you for a knife, sometimes resting a hand on your waist as he moved behind you. Every touch felt deliberate, like he was marking his territory even when no one was watching.
Then the bell above the door rang again.
A tall, sun-tanned man with kind eyes and an easy, friendly smile stepped inside. He looked to be in his late twenties, with the strong build of someone who spent his days working the fields. He greeted Toji with a familiar nod.
“Morning, Fushiguro. The usual shoulder cut, please.” His gaze shifted to you behind the counter and softened with genuine interest. “You must be the new wife everyone’s been talking about. I’m Haru. I run the big farm past the mill.”
You returned his smile politely. “Nice to meet you, Haru.”
He watched as you carefully wrapped his order, your hands still a little clumsy with the butcher paper. “It’s good to see a new face around here,” he said warmly. “You seem really kind. Gentle. The kind of person who makes a place feel brighter just by being in it.” He rubbed the back of his neck, almost shyly. “If you ever need anything — extra vegetables from the farm, help carrying something heavy, or just someone to talk to when things get quiet — my door’s always open. Wouldn’t want you feeling lonely so soon after moving in.”
You tilted your head, completely oblivious to any hidden meaning, and gave him a grateful smile. “That’s very kind of you. Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Before you could say anything else, the air behind you changed.
Toji’s large hand settled heavily on your hip, fingers digging in with clear possession as he pulled you back firmly against his chest. His other arm slid around your waist, locking you in place.
“She won’t be needing anything,” Toji said, his voice low and dangerously even. “I take care of my wife.”
Haru blinked, the friendly smile faltering as he finally registered the tension rolling off the butcher. “Of course. I was just… being neighborly.”
Toji’s grip on your hip tightened. “Neighborly is saying hello. The rest sounded like something else.”
The silence that followed was thick and uncomfortable. Haru swallowed hard, quickly paid for his meat, and muttered a polite goodbye before leaving without another word. The door swung shut behind him with a soft jingle.
The second he was gone, Toji spun you around and backed you against the counter. His green eyes were dark, jaw clenched tight with barely-contained jealousy. One big hand came up to cup your jaw, thumb pressing lightly against your bottom lip.
“You really didn’t notice?” he muttered, voice rough.
You shook your head, genuinely confused. “He was just being nice…”
Toji let out a short, irritated breath and leaned in closer, forehead almost touching yours. “He wasn’t just being nice. He was testing the waters. Seeing if my wife might be open to something else. Offering you a soft place to land if you ever got tired of me.”
His other hand slid under your skirt, fingers brushing between your thighs and finding you still slick from the night before. You gasped softly as he pushed two thick fingers inside you without warning, curling them slowly.
“Toji—”
“Mine,” he growled quietly against your ear, pumping his fingers in a lazy rhythm. “This pussy is mine. You are mine. I don’t want you smiling so sweetly at other men. Understand?”
You whimpered, clutching his shoulders as pleasure sparked through your still-sensitive body. “I understand…”
He kissed you then — hard, possessive, and hungry — while his fingers continued their slow, deliberate strokes. When he finally pulled back, his eyes were still dark with jealousy.
“Next time someone talks to you like that,” he said, voice low, “you let me handle it.”
He reluctantly withdrew his fingers, straightened your skirt, and stepped back like nothing had happened. But the tension in his shoulders and the dark look in his eyes remained.
“Back to work,” he said gruffly, still clearly worked up.
You nodded, legs shaky, heart racing, and turned back to the counter.
The rest of the morning passed with Toji staying even closer than before — a constant, heavy, possessive presence at your side. Every time another customer entered, his hand found your waist or lower back, silently reminding everyone (and you) exactly who you belonged to.
The rest of the morning dragged on with the same heavy tension.
Every time a male customer stepped through the door, Toji’s demeanor shifted. His hand would find your waist, your hip, or the small of your back — a silent, unmistakable claim. He answered questions in short, clipped tones and watched the men with sharp, warning eyes. You tried to focus on wrapping orders and smiling politely, but the constant possessiveness was becoming impossible to ignore.
By early afternoon, when the shop finally quieted again, you couldn’t hold it in anymore.
You turned to him while he was wiping down the counter.
“Toji,” you said softly, “you’re being too much.”
He paused, setting the rag down slowly. When he looked at you, his green eyes had gone dark.
“Too much?” he repeated, voice low and deceptively calm.
You swallowed but stood your ground. “Yes. The constant touching, the glaring at every man who even looks at me... They’re just customers.”
Toji stared at you for a long, heavy beat. Then he slowly walked around the counter, backing you up until your hips hit the edge. He caged you in with his massive frame, one hand braced beside you on the wood, the other coming up to grip your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes.
“You think I’m being too possessive?” he murmured, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “Tell me something, wife… What kind of husband would I be if I let other men think they can have access to what’s mine?”
His voice was rough, low, and dangerous. “If I smiled and stepped aside while they flirted with you? While they offered you help and soft words like they had any right to you?”
He leaned in closer, breath hot against your ear. “I’d be a fucking joke. A weak man who doesn’t know how to protect what belongs to him. And I’m not weak.”
His free hand slid under your skirt without warning, fingers pushing between your thighs. You were bare underneath. The moment his calloused fingertips brushed your folds, he groaned softly — low and rough — when he found you already wet again.
“Already soaked,” he muttered, voice thick with satisfaction. “Complaining about me being too possessive, but your pussy is dripping the second I touch you.”
“Toji—” you whimpered, hips twitching as two thick fingers pushed inside you in one smooth motion. The stretch made you gasp, your walls still tender and sensitive from the night before.
He curled his fingers slowly, deliberately, stroking that spongy spot deep inside you while his thumb found your swollen clit and rubbed tight, firm circles. His mouth latched onto your neck, sucking hard enough to leave another mark, teeth grazing your skin as he worked you open.
You moaned, loud and broken, clutching desperately at his broad shoulders. Your legs trembled around his wrist as pleasure sparked hot and fast through your body.
“You can tell me I’m too much,” he growled against your throat, biting down lightly before soothing the sting with his tongue. “But we both know the truth. You like it when I act like this. You like knowing no one else can touch you. You like being mine.”
His fingers pumped faster, curling with every thrust, the wet, obscene sounds of your arousal filling the quiet shop. Your hips rolled against his hand instinctively, chasing the pleasure even as your thighs shook.
“Ah— Toji… please—” you moaned, voice cracking. Your head fell back, exposing more of your neck to him. He took full advantage, sucking and biting along your skin while his fingers drove deeper, faster.
You were right there — teetering on the edge, muscles tightening around his thick fingers — when he suddenly pulled his hand away completely.
You let out a desperate, needy whine, hips chasing his fingers uselessly. Your core throbbed, aching and empty.
“Toji…!” you whimpered, voice hoarse and frustrated, eyes glassy with unshed tears of need. “Please— I was so close…”
Toji smirked, dark and satisfied, eyes gleaming with lust as he watched you squirm. He brought his glistening fingers up between you, holding them in front of your face so you could see how wet they were — coated in your slick right up to his knuckles.
“Open,” he ordered, voice low and commanding.
You obeyed instantly, parting your lips. He pushed his fingers into your mouth, letting you taste yourself as you sucked them clean, tongue swirling around them obediently. His green eyes darkened further, pupils blown wide as he watched you.
“Good girl,” he murmured, voice rough with arousal. “Look at you… so fucking eager. Whining because I stopped, sucking my fingers like you’d do anything for my cock right now.”
He pulled his fingers free with a wet pop and leaned in, kissing you deeply, tasting you on your own tongue. When he pulled back, his breath was ragged.
“You can complain about me being possessive all you want,” he said, voice dark and low, “but your body doesn’t lie. This pussy knows exactly who it belongs to.”
He suddenly lifted you onto the counter with ease, as if you weighed nothing. The wood was cool against the backs of your thighs as he shoved your skirt all the way up to your waist in one rough motion, baring your dripping pussy completely. He stepped between your spread thighs, his broad body forcing your legs wider apart until your knees were nearly touching your shoulders.
His hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise, fingers digging deep into your soft flesh with unmistakable ownership. With his other hand, he freed his cock — thick, heavy, and already throbbing. The veined shaft glistened as he stroked himself once, slowly, eyes locked on your exposed, glistening cunt.
“Since you think I’m too possessive,” he said, voice rough and dangerous, “I’m going to remind you exactly why I am.”
He rubbed the fat, leaking head of his cock up and down your soaked folds, coating every thick inch in your slick. He teased your swollen clit with every slow pass, tapping it lightly until your hips jerked and you let out a needy whimper.
“Toji… please—”
Without another word, he pushed in with one deep, powerful thrust.
You cried out sharply, back arching hard off the counter as the thick head forced its way inside, stretching you wide open. The sudden, overwhelming fullness stole your breath. Toji groaned deeply, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth stroke, his hips flush against your ass.
“Fuck… still so tight,” he growled, voice strained with pleasure. “Even after I filled you last night. This greedy little cunt keeps sucking me in like it doesn’t want to let go.”
He didn’t give you any time to adjust. He started fucking you hard and deep, the heavy wooden counter creaking loudly under the force of every brutal thrust. Your moans echoed shamelessly through the empty shop as he claimed you right there in the middle of the day.
“Mine,” he snarled against your neck, biting down hard enough to leave another dark mark. “Say it.”
“I’m yours— ah— Toji—!” you moaned, voice breaking as your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, heels digging into his lower back.
He fucked you even harder, hips snapping forward with powerful, punishing strokes. The wet slap of skin against skin filled the room, loud and filthy. One of his big hands reached between your bodies, his thumb finding your swollen clit and rubbing fast, tight circles.
“That’s right,” he panted, breath hot against your ear. “My wife. My pussy. No one else gets to look at you the way I do. No one else gets to touch you. No one else even gets to fucking think about you.”
Your moans grew louder and more desperate, your walls fluttering around his thick cock with every deep thrust. The counter shook beneath you. Your tits bounced wildly inside your blouse with the force of his movements.
He suddenly leaned back slightly, gripping your thighs and spreading you even wider as he drove into you. The new angle made him hit even deeper, the bulge in your lower belly becoming visible with every thrust.
“Look at that,” he groaned, eyes fixed on the spot where his cock disappeared inside you. “You’re taking me so fucking deep. This tight cunt was made for my cock.”
You cried out, nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter inside you. “Toji—! It’s too deep— ahh—!”
“You can take it,” he growled, fucking you harder. “You’re going to take everything I give you.”
Your orgasm crashed over you without warning — fast, violent, and overwhelming. Your walls clenched hard around his cock, fluttering and squeezing as waves of intense pleasure tore through your body. You screamed his name, thighs shaking violently around his waist.
Toji snarled like a beast, his rhythm turning erratic and savage as he fucked you through your climax. He kept pounding into you, chasing his own release, hips slamming against yours with wet, filthy sounds.
But he didn’t cum.
Instead, he suddenly slowed his thrusts, grinding deep and slow, keeping you right on the edge of overstimulation. His breathing was ragged, sweat glistening on his chest and neck.
He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a messy, possessive kiss while still buried deep inside you.
“You’re not done yet,” he murmured against your lips, voice dark and full of promise. “We’re nowhere near finished.”
Before you could catch your breath, Toji pulled out of you with a wet, obscene sound. You whimpered at the sudden emptiness, your pussy clenching around nothing, already missing the thick stretch of him. But he didn’t give you any time to protest.
In one swift, powerful motion, he flipped you over onto your stomach across the counter. Your chest pressed against the cool, smooth surface, your cheek resting on the wood as he yanked your hips back and up, forcing your ass high in the air. Your skirt was still bunched uselessly around your waist, leaving you completely exposed — bent over like a whore in the middle of his shop.
Toji kicked your legs wider apart with his foot, then pressed one large hand firmly between your shoulder blades, pinning you down hard against the counter.
“Fuck, look at you,” he growled, voice thick with raw lust. “Bent over my counter like a proper little wife. Ass up, pussy dripping for me.”
He spread your ass cheeks wide with both hands, exposing your swollen, abused pussy completely. Without any warning, he spat directly onto your folds — a thick, warm glob of saliva landing right on your clit and dripping down. You gasped sharply at the filthy sensation, your hips twitching.
Toji groaned at the sight and used two thick fingers to rub his spit into your pussy, mixing it with your own slick, pushing it inside you. Then he brought his palm down hard on your ass with a loud, resounding smack.
The sharp sting bloomed hot across your skin. You cried out, jolting forward on the counter.
“Stay still,” he ordered, voice rough. He smacked the other cheek even harder, watching the way your flesh jiggled and turned pink under his hand. “This ass is mine too. Every fucking inch of you is mine.”
You moaned helplessly, pushing back against him despite the sting. Toji lined up the thick head of his cock again and thrust back inside you in one brutal, deep stroke.
The new angle made him feel impossibly bigger, reaching even deeper. You moaned loudly, fingers scrambling for purchase on the smooth wooden counter as he immediately started fucking you hard and fast.
The counter creaked loudly under the force of his powerful thrusts. Each snap of his hips drove his thick cock impossibly deep, the wet slap of skin against skin echoing through the empty shop. Toji’s hands gripped your hips in a bruising hold, pulling you back onto his cock with every stroke like he was using you.
“Fuck— this pussy feels even better like this,” he groaned, voice rough and strained. He smacked your ass again, harder this time, watching the way your flesh rippled red under his palm. “So fucking wet. You like being bent over and used like this, don’t you?”
“Yes— ah— Toji—!” you moaned, cheek pressed against the cool counter, eyes fluttering shut. Every brutal thrust made your breasts press harder into the wood, your sensitive nipples dragging against it.
Toji reached forward and fisted a hand in your hair, pulling your head back slightly as he fucked you even harder. His hips slammed against your ass with wet, filthy sounds. He spat on your pussy again, right where his thick cock was stretching you open, and used his thumb to rub the saliva into your swollen clit.
“Such a messy little wife,” he panted, smacking your ass repeatedly between thrusts — sharp, stinging slaps that made you clench tighter around him. “Dripping all over my counter. Taking my cock so deep like you were made for it. Look at this greedy cunt swallowing every inch.”
Your moans turned into broken sobs of pleasure. The combination of his brutal pace, the stinging heat on your ass, and the filthy words pushed you right to the edge again.
Toji leaned over you, his broad chest pressing against your back, his breath hot and ragged against your ear as he kept pounding into you without mercy.
“Tell me who this pussy belongs to,” he growled, smacking your ass one more time, hard enough to make you yelp.
“You—! It belongs to you— Toji—!” you cried out, voice hoarse and desperate.
He snarled in satisfaction and fucked you even harder, the counter shaking beneath you. His hand slipped between your legs again, rubbing your clit fast and rough.
You came with a broken scream, your walls clamping down hard around his thick cock, thighs shaking violently as intense pleasure tore through you.
Toji groaned loudly as your orgasm triggered his own. He slammed in deep one final time and came hard, flooding your pussy with thick, hot spurts of cum. He kept grinding into you slowly, pushing every drop as deep as possible, his hips pressed tight against your reddened ass.
For a long moment, the only sounds in the shop were your heavy breathing and the faint drip of his cum leaking out of you onto the floor.
Toji stayed buried inside you, leaning over your back and kissing the back of your neck possessively.
“Still think I’m being too possessive?” he murmured against your skin, voice dark and satisfied.
You could only whimper in response, too overwhelmed to form words. Your body was trembling, pressed against the counter, pussy still fluttering weakly around his thick cock. Every small shift made you feel the mess he’d left inside you — warm, sticky, and so full it was leaking down your thighs.
Toji let out a low, rumbling sound of approval. He stayed deep for a long moment, grinding slow and lazy, pushing his cum even deeper as if he couldn’t stand the thought of any of it escaping. His large hand smoothed over the reddened skin of your ass where he’d spanked you, almost soothing now, before giving one last firm squeeze.
“Answer me,” he said quietly, lips brushing the shell of your ear.
“…No,” you breathed, voice hoarse and shaky. “I don’t.”
He hummed, clearly pleased. He finally pulled out slowly, watching with dark eyes as a thick trail of his cum dripped from your abused hole onto the floor. The sight made him groan softly.
“Fuck, that’s a pretty sight,” he muttered. He used two fingers to push some of the leaking cum back inside you, then straightened your skirt with surprising care.
Toji helped you stand on shaky legs, turning you to face him. He cupped your jaw with one hand, thumb brushing your flushed cheek as he studied your expression — eyes glassy, lips swollen, hair messy.
“You’re going to feel me for the rest of the day,” he said, voice low. “Every step. Every time you move. I want you thinking about who fucked you over this counter.”
He leaned in and kissed you — slower this time, but still deep and possessive. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours for a brief second.
“Clean yourself up a little,” he told you, pressing one last kiss to your temple. “We’ve still got half a day left.”
Toji stepped back, tucking himself away and adjusting his apron like nothing had happened, though the dark, satisfied glint in his eyes remained.
You stood there on unsteady legs, heart still racing, feeling the unmistakable warmth of his cum slowly leaking down your inner thighs.
And somehow, you couldn’t find it in yourself to complain.
a/n: aren't the old hags kinda iconic? lmk what you think and if you'd be interested in a part two! likes and reblogs appreciated!!
i wanna cum on someones dick while they rape me. i wanna be begging and screaming for my life as they pound the shit out of me with a knife to my throat. i wanna look someone in the eyes and see the moment that they realize im gone, that ive caved to them, and feel them go even harder, faster, deeper. i wanna feel it coming and try to stop it as hard as i can "no no no please stop please dont" but i just cant help myself. i wanna squirt around their cock as i sob for mercy, unable to justify why i keep cumming if i "dont want it."
i need to be chased down in the woods, heart pounding in my ears and body completely bare except for a pair of little lace panties and bra that barely cover anything.
i need to be paranoid for hours, not knowing where you are, desperately trying to get away but going deeper into the woods by accident, farther and farther away from help.
i need you to catch me, hunt me down like a little bunny and waste no time getting the little lace pieces off me, having waited long enough watching me this whole time.
i need you to tie up my hands to the closest tree and shove my knees up to my shoulders, tying them there so i cant do anything to stop you.
and all i can do is scream when you shove your cock into me, begging you to go slowly or stop while you start fucking all the thoughts from my head.
eventually i’ll stop begging for you to stop, and be a brainless slut made for taking cock, only able to moan and make little “uh uh uh”s as i cum again and again from being raped.
i’ll break fully when you finally bury your cock so deep inside me theres no where for your cum to go but inside my womb, breeding my little pussy despite not wanting it.
pound my cunt over and over, filling me up until you cant cum anymore. i was caught like a little bunny, now i’ll breed like one.
okayyy long ask incoming, i got very very carried away describing my fantasy. content warnings for cervix stuff and noncon and sadism, just in case 😵💫
today im thinking abt being violently raped by a werewolf or orc or another big monster with a cock longer than my forearm and thicker than my bicep. a creature more than three times my size, not one that is apathetic to if it hurts me or not, but one that actively **wants** to hurt me because my tears and pain makes its (truly gigantic) cock even harder. it makes it a goal to rape my cervix open and force me to cum from the pain of it until i can’t anymore (and then do it again anyways.) it won’t touch my cock, so i have to come solely from my cunt being brutally violated.
i want to be picked up and used like a fleshlight, legs dangling as it uses one hand to wrap around my waist and manhandle my struggling body. i want to be completely helpless as im used for its pleasure, my feet not even touching the ground, feeling like the only thing keeping me from falling is the monstrous cock raping me open and the enormous hand circling my waist.
it’s so fucking **big** that the head of its cock is battering my cervix with every single thrust, brutalizing it and making me wail and beg for anything to help me and make it stop. there’s still a few inches of cock left outside of me, but i don’t think it’ll be that way for long, if the monster has its way with me. overstimulated, tender, split open, it feels like i’m gonna break any minute now, like my cervix is going to be forced to surrender by the sheer determination and force of this monstrosity, regardless of whether it should be possible for my body to do so. it feels like something **has** to give, and i know this brute isn’t going to give up until it has violated and penetrated this last obstacle, defiling me completely.
it hurts so fucking badly and i just can’t take any more, i’m sobbing and screaming but it just won’t stop. my bruised cervix hurts so badly, and the monster keeps jackhammering into me deeper and faster and harder with every thrust. when i eventually give up and let it use my cunt without more complaint, it just rapes me harder to punish me for my weakness.
oh my godddd yes please
i wanna get brutally raped by a monster so huge it can pick me up in just one hand and use me like an onahole/fleshlight, like its barely even sex, it's just using me to jack off its absolutely ginormous monster cock
and dhjhgfdfghgf yeeeessss cervix rape, i wanna feel it thrust harder and harder and harder, making me scream and cry and beg it to stop, until my cervix finally gives way and its ginourmous cock hammers through that tiny hole, splitting me open, i wanna see it's cock bulging out of my belly, just under my ribcage, i wanna feel my boywomb get raped and defiled, i want my belly to swell up will all of the thick hot virile monster cum it forces into me
Someone’s at the front door. Maybe a friend, family member, neighbor, whatever. They ask if you’re okay, because they haven’t heard from you in awhile and just wanted to check on you to make sure nothing bad has happened
You’re pressed against the other side. There’s a monster with you, huge and strong and pinning you to the door. Its cock is buried balls deep inside of you, so big that it bulges out your abdomen, visibly throbbing from the outside. Your belly is red and swollen from gallons of thick, hot monster cum. The monster moves its hips, its cock stirring up your insides. It’s been using you for days on end, so long that you can’t remember what it feels like to be empty.
You tell the visitor that you’re fine. It’s just that you’ve gotten really busy or something. Any excuse to make them stop worrying and decide to leave. It’s a struggle to keep yourself from moaning and crying as you talk. Maybe you could be saved if you asked for help. But you don’t know what the monster will do to you or the visitor if they find out.
And so, the visitor leaves. You return to your gasping, screaming, and moaning as you’re ravaged by the monster’s cock. It thrusts in hard, pumping extra seed into your already overstuffed womb. It roughly grabs your swollen belly, making you squeal as the cum loudly sloshes inside you and it begins thrusting its hips again. Who knows how much longer this’ll go on for?
I've been fantasizing about being fucked real good by a werewolf. It starts with me being overconfident about being a size queen and riding the hell out of his monster sized cock. Eventually he gets tired of my attitude and grabs my hips, forcing me up and down his thick cock hard and fast and slamming into my cervix. By the second time I've come, I'm an oversensitive mess, and that's when he digs his claws into me and pulls me flush against his hips.
By the time I realize what's happening, it's too late. He sneers maliciously as his knot swells in my cunt and my eyes go wide in panic. It stretches well past what I can handle but is too big for me to push out, and I'm stuck sobbing and squirming on his fat, fat knot like the pathetic slut I am.
All the while, he mocks me for being so confident. I bear down and try to push the knot out, but it just makes him more excited. He comes in me dozens of times and not a single drop escapes.
After, I don't know what's better. Him pulling his knot and cock out of my hole agonizingly slowly, or him ripping it out quickly. Either way, it ends with me desperately rubbing my clit as his cum pours out of my ruined pussy and him shooting one last massive load all over my tear stained face.
a pack of werewolves having you as their free use toy slave.
they keep you tied up and blindfolded in a dark, comfortably heated room. food and drinks are provided regularly, but the blindfold stays on and the clothes stay off so you never catch a glimpse of who and how many enter the room and you're always ready for any of their needs.
they may visit you at any hour of the day and you never know how many there are. you can only try and guess by how many claws grab a hold of your arms, your waist, your thighs, your ankles; and by how many throbbing cocks tease at and use your holes for their whims and pleasure, and for what feels like never-ending loads of hot thick cum.
so it goes. sometimes they come in just to pump quick loads in you, driving you to the edge but not giving you time to go over it, and then just leave you wet, trembling and desperate for more. sometimes they take their time filling you up, and you're not quite sure whether your overstimmed screaming after cumming over and over is of no interest to them, or if it just serves to encourage them further to keep going.
they may untie your ties to move you over to fuck on another surface and in a position they like best. a gang of three want you lying spread-eagle on the bed, two double-stuffing your holes while one slips its length down your throat; other two have you bent over a study for agonizingly slow spitroasting; one pushes you prone on the floor, mounting your back and taking turns thrusting in both holes until its massive knot pops in and makes you scream; the next one hoists your spent body up on the wall, gently sits you all the way down on its shaft and starts snapping sharp thrusts up against your cervix, making you cry from yet another overwhelmingly deep orgasm before shooting one last cumload in to make up for it.
Content warnings: Rough sex, size difference, tummy bulge, light choking (arm around neck), degradation + praise kink, mocking/teasing, creampie, overstimulation, explicit dirty talk, consensual but very intense power dynamic.
Note: if you have a fic you want me to write let me know!
DO NOT COPY OR FEED TO AI
The room was dim, just the soft glow of your bedside lamp cutting through the shadows of your bedroom. Clothes were scattered across the floor like a battlefield—your tiny shorts and tank top tossed aside, Toji’s black shirt and sweats kicked somewhere near the door. The air smelled like sweat and sex already, thick and heady. You were face-down on your own bed, that perfect little body arched just how he liked it: ass up high, back dipped low, cheek pressed into the pillow while your fingers gripped the sheets like they were the only thing keeping you from floating away.
Toji was right behind you—on you—his massive 6’2” frame caging you in completely. Every thick muscle in his chest, abs, and thighs flexed as he kept you pinned. One of his huge arms was hooked around your neck from behind, the heavy bicep pressing firm against the side of your throat, not choking you out but holding you exactly where he wanted you. His forearm rested across your collarbones, palm splayed over your shoulder so you couldn’t even lift your head if you tried. You were trapped, tiny and gorgeous and completely at his mercy, and the low, lazy chuckle that rumbled out of his chest told you he fucking loved it.
“Easy, doll,” he drawled, voice low and rough like gravel dragged over velvet. His free hand gripped your hip hard enough to leave fingerprints, yanking your ass back against him as he lined up. The fat, throbbing head of his cock dragged through your soaked folds once, twice, teasing your entrance before he pushed in—slow enough for you to feel every thick inch stretch you open, but relentless. He bottomed out in one long, heavy stroke, the blunt head kissing so deep inside you that a visible bulge pushed out against your lower belly, pressing into the mattress beneath you.
“Fuuuck, there it is,” he groaned, eyes locked on the obscene shape of his cock outlined in your tiny stomach. “Look at that. My fat dick rearrangin’ your guts again. Tiny perfect body takin’ me so good.”
He didn’t give you a second to breathe. His hips snapped forward hard, pounding into you with deep, punishing strokes that made your whole body jolt. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room—filthy, rhythmic, loud. His cock throbbed inside you with every thrust, thick veins pulsing against your walls as he fucked you like he owned you. The arm around your neck tightened just a fraction, pulling your upper body up slightly so your back arched harder, ass presented perfectly for him to ruin.
Your moans spilled out helplessly—high, broken, needy little sounds that you couldn’t hold back no matter how hard you tried.
Toji laughed, dark and mocking, right against your ear. His breath was hot, lips brushing your temple as he drove in again, harder, grinding his hips in a slow circle just to feel you flutter around him.
“Aww, listen to those pretty moans, doll,” he taunted, voice dripping with that lazy, cocky edge. “All desperate and whiny like you’re beggin’ for somethin’. I’m right here, baby—what else do you want?” He punctuated the words with a brutal thrust, slamming so deep the bulge in your tummy visibly shifted under your skin. “Huh? What else could my little slut possibly need when I’m balls-deep and poundin’ this tight pussy exactly how she likes it?”
You cried out again, louder, and he mocked you with another low chuckle, hips never slowing. In and out, in and out—long, powerful strokes that dragged his thick cock almost all the way out before he buried it to the hilt again. The head kissed your cervix every single time, making your toes curl and your eyes roll back.
“Yeah, that’s it. Moan louder for me, gorgeous. Let me hear how good I’m fuckin’ you.” His praise came rough and filthy, mixed right in with the teasing. “Such a good girl takin’ every inch like this. My perfect little doll—tiny, beautiful, and squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight. Shit, you were made for this cock, weren’t you?”
He picked up the pace, pounding into you faster now, the bed creaking under the force of it. His heavy balls slapped against your clit with every thrust, sending sparks shooting up your spine. The arm around your neck stayed locked in place, keeping you helpless and arched while his other hand slid down to press flat against the bulge in your belly, feeling himself move inside you.
“Feel that, doll? Feel how deep I am?” He groaned, voice getting rougher, breath hotter against your skin. “My cock’s throbbin’ inside you, baby. You’re so wet and sloppy for me—creamin’ all over me like the greedy little slut you are. But fuck, you look so pretty doin’ it. My gorgeous girl… takin’ me so well, lettin’ me wreck this perfect pussy in her own bed.”
Your moans turned into sobs of pleasure, body trembling under him as he fucked you harder, faster, relentless. He mocked every single sound you made, that smug smirk clear in his voice even though you couldn’t see his face.
“Aw, c’mon, doll—those little whimpers again? I’m right here, baby. Right fuckin’ here.” He slammed in deep and stayed there for a second, grinding slow and filthy so you felt every throb. “What else do you want, huh? My cock stretchin’ you open? My arm around your neck keepin’ you right where I want you? Or you just like cryin’ out ‘cause it feels too good?” Another hard thrust. “Yeah? That’s what I thought. My pretty little whore loves gettin’ used like this.” “Yea? Love getting your guts rearranged by daddy?”
He kept going, pounding into you for what felt like forever—long, dragging strokes mixed with quick, brutal snaps of his hips that had you seeing stars. Sweat slicked his muscular chest, dripping onto your back as he leaned over you more, smothering you with his size. The hand on your belly slid lower, fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight, mean circles that made your thighs shake.
“Cum for me again, doll,” he growled, praise thick in his voice now. “That’s it—good girl. Squeeze my cock just like that, just like fuck-ing that. You’re doin’ so fuckin’ perfect for me. My beautiful, tiny slut… gonna fill you up so full you’ll be leakin’ me all night.”
Your orgasm hit hard, walls clamping down around his throbbing length as you moaned loud and broken into the pillow. Toji didn’t stop—he fucked you right through it, hips stuttering just a little as your pussy milked him.
“Fuck—yeah, just like that good fuck-ing girl,” he groaned, voice strained but still cocky. “Milk me, baby. That’s my good girl.”
He chased his own release with deep, punishing thrusts, the arm around your neck tightening as he buried his face against your shoulder. His cock swelled even thicker inside you, pulsing hot and heavy.
“Gonna cum, doll,” he panted, mocking tone gone now, replaced by raw hunger. “Gonna fill this pretty pussy up—paint your insides white like the perfect slut you are. Take it all for me… fuck—”
With a deep, guttural groan he slammed in to the hilt one last time and came hard, thick ropes of cum flooding deep inside you. His cock throbbed with every heavy spurt, the bulge in your tummy pulsing visibly as he pumped you full. He kept grinding slow and lazy through it, making sure every last drop stayed buried inside your tiny body.
“Atta girl,” he murmured after a long moment, voice hoarse and sated, lips brushing your ear. His arm around your neck loosened just enough to turn into something almost gentle, thumb stroking your shoulder. “Took every drop like a champ. My gorgeous little doll… always so fuckin’ good for me.”
He stayed buried deep inside you, heavy body still draped over your smaller one, both of you breathing hard in the quiet of your room. The bulge in your belly slowly faded, but the warm, full feeling of him leaking out around his cock stayed right where he wanted it.
I hope it’s ok I send you a scenario like this, but I absolute love the thought of having a cute little thing being fucked and bouncing on the lap of someone bigger than them. Large hands holding them in place as they try to squirm away, whining that it’s too much, too big. They have a cute belly bulge from the oversized cock in them, and they’re fucked senseless until they can only cry and whimper at how filled they are.
ksdjfsd I'm so sorry it took me so long to answer this, the "happy holidays" just dealt me like 4d6 psychic damage. Anyway~
yesss just a cute little thing, completely helpless to escape the massive cock that they're being pulled down onto repeatedly, like a fleshlight. The poor thing struggling and trying to push away, but the hands holding them are so big and strong, they don't have a hope of escaping their grasp.
I mean the fact that their body can take such a big cock surely means that this is what it's meant for, right? The way their belly bulges and their body is the perfect size to hold and use like a toy, must say something about their purpose.
They just need to be reminded what that purpose is. All it takes is fucking them until their body is exhausted and their mind is broken. It won't take much for them to reach the point where they can't move or think, and they're reduced to just a poor, pretty toy, with a bulging belly and rolled back eyes.
im so feral for the full nelson position, just want to be folded in half and then physically made to look down at the cock destroying my hole. cant move, cant think, cant do anything but go “uh uh uh” as a pair of fat balls unloads right into my unprotected womb
i'm so obsessed with the idea that i'm helpless to alphas as soon as they knot me. being at their mercy entirely, unable to fight their shallow but animalistic thrusts against my cervix, drives me completely wild. i need a big strong alpha like you to put me in my place - put a knot in me so fucking huge in me that i couldn't pull off if i tried, ruin my delicate little pussy. fold me into mating press so your cockhead has better access to my cervix and fuck me so hard that it gives way and allows you to abuse the sensitive, unprotected furl of my womb. give me the deepest breeding of my life, alpha, i want it soo bad
You don't just want it, Omega, you don't just want to feel your poor cervix give way under the heavy pressure of my cock - you need it. You need me to violate and claim your womb while you're helpless to the breeding you're receiving. You need me to own you in the most primal and innate way as my fat knot inflates and ties your sweet little cunt, keeping you trapped beneath me as load after heavy load floods your womb
i love the words alphas like you use to describe your cock slamming into my cervix. bullying my cervix. abusing it. battering it. bruising it. paimting it white as it contracts. breaching it, breaking it - breaking into my womb, penetrating my cervix, fucking through it....
like, yes, tell me what you're going to do to that poor, tight little ring of muscle in your desperation to shoot your virile load directly into my most fertile and vulnerable place. even better when i beg you not to because i'm ovulating...
Your cervix exists to be pounded, the tip of my thick cock ramming it over and over again until it weakens and begins to give, the sound of my cock pressing into you has you whimpering and gasping like a needy bitch, because that's what Omegas like you are. Needy little knotsluts.
Your eyes roll back when your body submits to me, and my cockhead breaches your cervix, forcing its way through and into your fertile womb, pumping load after thick, goopy load into you. Forcing your eggs to be fertilised by my cum.
Omegas like you exist to be bred, to hang off of my knot, to keep begging for me to use you even when you insist you don't want it.
Because you do, you love the feeling of your cervix being broken by an Alpha.
