“I Am Only A Shell Where The Ocean Is Still Sounding.”

🐚 seashells pngs!!

when i was a kid my grandpa was a great depression survivor and he wouldn't waste ANY amount of food so he taught me i had to eat the apple core and i started eating the whole apple in grade school and the kids called me horse boy

Treat Me Like a Slut

━━ ༉⁩༊⁩ Pairings: Yuushi Totsumoto from lady k and the sick man and Toji Fushiguro from JJK x Shy!fem! Reader( crossover)

━━ ༉⁩༊⁩ Encapsulation: being shy can either lead you to a good time or bad time, you choose today

━━ ༉⁩༊⁩ Warnings: smut, double penetration in one hole, pussy eating, cunnilings, cum eating/drinking, pet names( doll, baby doll, princess, etc.), degradation and praising, competitive fuck, their personalities gonna switch on this one, oral( m/ f ), breeding kink, choking, impact play( a little), voyeurism, riding, throat fucking, squirting, talks about being shy and having anxiety( not explicit tho), two guess appearances, two dollars if y’all get it

━━ ༉⁩༊⁩ Word Count: 5.8k

18+ Fairies Allowed Only

Shyness is something every other person has had, including you. Shyness either comes from anxiety or trauma and this is all based on your perspective of it. You have been shy your entire life to the point where you couldn’t make friends properly, couldn’t even get a boyfriend without a push of a shoulder from your best friend you magically got the chance to have. Opposites attract you guessed because your best friend was the complete opposite of shy.

Enough about her, let’s talk about how because of isolation in your life can lead to shyness too, whether it’s from your mother or father being overprotective and forbidding you from making friends or going over your best friend’s house or because of what happened to you in the past—-you still don’t know how to perform full conversations with people you just met even in adult years.

So when you have two hot neighbors who are complete opposites, what do you do? They both moved in one after the other, exactly one week stretch if you’re really talking. It’s like it was planned but who knows. You watched both move in from your front window, making sure to hide yourself really well in case you get caught and have to introduce yourself prior to the time and setting you rehearsed in your head.

Seguir leyendo

Great With Kids? (You Can Have Mine) - C.K.

Synopsis. When your younger brother gets a new babysitter, only two questions linger on your mind: 1. How come your parents didn’t trust you in charge? 2. How dare the sexy babysitter be so perfect - it made you want some attention too.

Pairings. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, babysitter! Choso, male masturbation, voyeurism (from reader), Choso with nipple piercings and eyeliner hngh, unprotected, 69, choking, overstim, oral (male + female receiving), creampie, dirty talk, friends-to-lovers, Choso is down BAD and always has been, mentioned younger brother, swearing. 

Word count. 9.0k

A/N. Gojo longfic next time because I miss my pretty blue-eyed princess.

Your younger brother’s new babysitter was hot.

With a capital h. 

Scarily hot, in fact, that it made you wonder why the hell people stopped having babysitters past the age of 14.

Ah, Choso Kamo, the ever-elusive eldest son of the Itadori’s from next door. You still remember the first time you met him - well, mostly. 

The world was rocking gently at exactly 12:34AM after a night out with your old high school friends. And so were you, stumbling tipsily into your driveway, soaking up the warm summer air. 

Fumbling with the doorbell, you fully expected your parents to still be away on that extravagant couples’ cruise they’d won - one that probably cost more than your tuition.

Which also meant you expected the old lady from down the street to be babysitting tonight. Still wide awake and absolutely bursting at the seams to give you a detailed rundown about the neighborhood tea - who’s divorcing who, and her top suspects for who stole her prized garden gnome. 

What you certainly did not expect was for that door to swing open and to find yourself face-to-face with the most ridiculously attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on. Shirtless.

Dazed, your eyes involuntarily sweep his figure from head to toe - taking in every inch of those dark, sleep-mussed locks falling effortlessly around his slightly smudged eyeliner, all the way down to the chiseled- oh god, were those nipple piercings?

Alas, the universe isn’t on your side, and you don’t get to confirm, because suddenly the door slams right in your face, almost rattling off its hinges at the force. The sound echoes in your ears as you blink in disbelief at what the fuck that was. Was that real - was he real? 

You double check the address you’ve known for years - just in case - because, hell, if you were dreaming then this was a damn good one. Taking a deep breath, you try to focus on something that won’t make your head spin before reaching for the door again.

But before your finger could even graze the doorbell, it cracks open once more. The same mysterious man towered before you, this time - you note, with a tinge of disappointment - wearing a snug t-shirt that still doesn’t do much to hide that godly physique. 

“Not that m’complaining, but who’re you and why’re ya in my house?” you manage to slur out, voice betraying the shiver that runs down your spine at his intense gaze. He simply leans against the doorframe, arms crossed and expression unreadable. 

“Choso,” he drawls lightly, eyes never leaving your face. Shit, even his voice was hot. 

You nod slowly, mind racing as you blearily try to remember just where you’d heard that name before. Some family friend? Nah, you’d know him if that was the case. An actor? God, he sure had the looks. 

Mercifully sensing your struggle, he clears his throat, snapping you out of your drunken reverie. “Not surprised you haven’t seen me around, sweetheart, but my parents live next door.” he offers, tone laced with amusement and something else you can’t place. “M’babysitting your brother for tonight.”

You almost don’t hear the second part of his explanation, because it hits you like a ton of bricks - oh shit, this was Choso? Choso either-a-hallucination-or-a-vampire Kamo? 

In all your years of having the Itadoris as your neighbors, you’d only seen fleeting glimpses of their eldest son - a flash of black hair at the window, or a sculpted, tattooed arm waving off Yuji at the doorway. And, well, you didn’t know what exactly you’d anticipated. You just didn’t expect him to be so…hot. Or stand half-naked in front of you.

God, he made you more dizzy than the alcohol. 

“Damn,” you mutter under your breath, more to yourself than anything. Yet Choso still hears, quirking an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Everything alright there?” he hums, the hint of a tease in his tone. Smug bastard.

You nod your head, clutching onto the doorframe for support as you lean in closer. “Mhm, perfect.” Wait- was that a blush dusting his face? Damn, this dream just keeps getting better and better.

Liquid courage coursing through you, you bat your lashes, too tipsy to even attempt a wink, “Well, Choso, let me know if ya need any help babysitting, jus’ know I’m always down to-” 

And then - perhaps to save you from the embarrassment of an awful pickup line - that’s when the universe decides to remind you of exactly how many kamikaze shots you’ve downed. The world lurches beneath you. Your hands scramble for something - anything - solid.

Ah, falling down really does feel good, especially when the ground is so warm, and soft. Smelling faintly of vanilla, with a hint of sunshine. 

And then it’s all black. 

To match his eyes.

---

The smell of vanilla still lingers in your mind as you slowly pry your eyes open, squinting against the harsh morning sunlight streaming in through your window. Groaning, you feel as though you’ve been run over by a truck. Five of them, in fact. 

Trying to will away the pounding headache, you bury yourself deeper into the snug covers of…your bed…that you’ve been tucked into? 

Oh shit. Sitting up with a gasp, you hastily try to rub away the sleep from your pointedly makeup-less eyes, remnants of last night now flooding back to you with a surge of embarrassment. 

Choso. Shirtless. Babysitting. Shirtless. But most importantly - your awful display of drunken flirting. The man appears once in a blue moon and you hit on him? Perfect. Great. Wonderful. 

And just as you’re entertaining the idea of convincing your parents to move neighborhoods, you realize with a jolt that he must’ve been the one that carried you up here and took care of you. Even after all of that. 

With a sigh, you rub your temples, wincing as it throbs at the laughter carrying from downstairs - one of them so decidedly Choso. Deep voice ringing in your ears, you can almost feel the lingering traces of his strong arms holding you flush against his chest, or the warm hands gently wiping off your eye shadow.

And it seems Choso had a penchant for interrupting your barely-lucid thoughts, because the door creaks open, ripping through the heavy silence in your room. Heart in your throat, you startle as Choso carefully steps into your room, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“G’morning,” he says, voice so gentle that some small, strange part of you thinks you could listen to it forever. “Feeling any better?”

You offer him a sheepish grin, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks at the memory of your drunken antics. “Yeah, I think so. Thanks for... well, everything.”

Chuckling softly, his gaze softens as he steps closer, taking in your slightly-disheveled appearance. “It was the least I could do, sweetheart. Now, c’mon, your brother and I are making pancakes.” 

You fidget nervously under his gaze, suddenly feeling self-conscious even as he turns to leave the room at your silence. Say it, you idiot. Say it. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, words tumbling out in a rush. “I didn’t mean to... y’know, act like a Victorian man seeing a woman’s ankles for the first time-” 

“It’s al-”

 “I swear I’ve seen ankles-”

A large hand cradling your cheek, his thick rings searingly cold against your chin as he tilts your chin up to meet his warm gaze - and those suspiciously red cheeks. “S’alright, sweetheart. I didn’t mind.” 

And, well, if this was his way of shutting you up then by God was it effective. Because you didn’t trust yourself to speak even as Choso gives you an easy smile. Even as he withdraws his hand, the air thick with something you were too hungover to overthink about. 

Not until he turns back to the door, flashing you a teasing smile, “Besides, it was kinda cute.”

And with that, Choso steps through the door with the audacity of someone that hadn’t uttered words that sent your mind reeling. 

As the creak of the door echoes behind him, Choso’s warm touch still sears into your skin. Something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach. Only one thought rings clear in your hazy, still-hungover mind - one that makes your cheeks flare: this was going to be a very interesting summer.

You just didn’t realize how interesting it would be. Not until two weeks, four days, and sixteen hours after you first met Choso. 

It starts out innocently enough, taking the early shift at your internship, volunteering to help with the chores - you find yourself subconsciously making excuses to be around him whenever he’s scheduled to babysit.

You’ve probably learned everything there is to know about the man by now - from the way he likes his eggs (sunny side up) to that time he accidentally dyed his brother’s hair neon pink while trying out a recipe for homemade hair dye. 

Likewise, Choso happens to be the only one who knows that you were the one that accidentally caused that flood in your dorm that required five floors and two plumbers to resolve. 

At this point, Choso’s at your house more often than not - where Choso is, there is you, and where you are, there is Choso. And your brother…and sometimes Yuji, but semantics.

“Semantics” are probably why you find yourself rushing home straight from your internship, ignoring every invitation for an after-work drink - to see your brother, of course. No other reason - definitely not because of the way Choso will inevitably be there too. Or because of the way his smile makes something strange coil in your stomach. Or-

Okay, maybe you speedwalked up your driveway faster than usual a little bit because of Choso. But as you’ve said - semantics.

Yet, sometimes you even think there’s a familiar flicker of something more in those dark eyes.

…

Nahhh. 

Stepping into the yard, the air thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and the deafening sounds of splashing, a smile tugs at your lips at the awfully wholesome view that greets you.

Your brother and Yuji are locked in a fierce battle, water guns being brandished like the most seasoned warriors.

And Choso - towering over everyone else - was at the epicenter of the chaos, his laughter booming over the commotion. Shirtless. Again. 

His bare, tattooed torso gleams in the light, muscles flexing with each movement as if sculpted by the gods themselves. Droplets of water glistening on his dark hair like diamonds in the fading light.

Traitorously, your cheeks burn as you step closer, desperately trying to rip your gaze from the milky abs peeking out and the tantalizing glint of metal winking so sinfully at you under the sun.

So he does have nipple piercings.

God, you have to get your mind out of the gutter.

As you approach, Choso’s grin widens, a playful sparkle dancing in his eyes. Without hesitation, he scoops up a large water balloon and takes aim, launching it with frightening accuracy in your direction.

The icy water hits you before the realization, and you squeal in surprise as the balloon connects right with your chest, seeping into your shirt. Glancing down with a startled laugh, you realize a moment too late that your once-pristine white shirt is now completely see-through. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks, but the damage has been done. Smug bastard, you think, glancing up at Choso, slightly red-faced yet wearing a sly grin as he surveys the aftermath of his well-aimed shot.

“Shoulda just told me if you wanted a peak, you lecher. This shirt was expensive, y’know.” you call out, mock-glaring at the man that stood so infuriatingly beautifully in front of you.

Choso throws his head back in a laugh that makes something tingle all the way down from your toes to your burning cheeks. “Maybe you shoulda just kept your guard up, sweetheart,” 

You scoff, “Maybe you should stop being a distraction then.”

His grin widens, reaching for another nearby water balloon, “S’not my fault you’re so easily distracted. No need to be a sore loser.”

“Oh, it’s on now.”

“Well, well, looks like we have a new contender in the water war,” Choso remarks mischievously to the kids, gesturing towards you. Yeah, really smug bastard.

Ah, what the hell. This shirt was on sale anyway.

---

Now, Choso knows you’re hot - always has.

Ever since that first day he moved in next door, when he stumbled upon you sunbathing in your backyard wearing that sinful bikini. And, well, after hours of moving boxes upon boxes of Yuji’s dumbbells, the mere sight of you was like the gates of heaven spread wide open for him. 

But, especially now - all drenched and disheveled. Your shirt sticking to your curves like a second skin in all the ways that should be illegal - and also makes some strange part of him slightly jealous. Beaming smile directed right at him - shit, this might as well just be the final nail on his coffin. Death by you.

Amidst the chaos and confusion, you're a force to be reckoned with. Choso can barely tear his eyes off of you, breathless and victorious in pure adrenaline-fueled bravado, declaring “Beg for mercy and I’ll let you off easy, Choso.”

“Kinky, but absolutely not, sweetheart.”

Clutching a particularly large water balloon, raising your hand high high high - hurtling it straight at him with an unapologetic smirk, “Then, better run for your life.”

Oh? Maybe Choso was a masochi- what was that- 

A flash of his favorite lacy pink, your poor buttons faltering at the sheer force of your throw. Choso doesn’t even feel the cold splash! square on his chest as he’s drenched icily from head to toe. Too transfixed.

Too focused on trying not to make it obvious he’s mentally calculating the chances of your shirt coming off altogether…

Eyes locked on the sliver of soft skin peeking out at him. Only registering you and the traitorous rush of heat flooding his cheeks - and his cock - as he averts his gaze, internally smacking himself for letting his thoughts wander into such dangerous territory. 

Both thanking and cursing the gods above, Choso realizes with a pang that he’s not just screwed, he’s absolutely twisted, tangled, and tied up in knots.

So utterly screwed, in fact, that he probably needs to make a quick run to the bathroom now.

Like, right now.

Shit. 

With a muttered excuse of a bathroom break, each step more urgent than the last, Choso can’t help but wonder if the water balloon incident was some sort of cosmic punishment for his wandering thoughts. Some divine intervention from his ancestors for being such a pussy around you all these years.

And as he slams that bathroom door closed, bunches his pants bunched underneath his heavy balls, and takes his throbbing cock in his hands, Choso thinks he might just see the gates of heaven - well, at least he’ll be able to give his ancestors a piece of his mind there.

With a groan, he leans against the closed door, eyes scrunching shut as he takes his swollen cock in his fist. Leaking hot precum and glistening in the dim bathroom light. He grips the base tightly, pulsing and achingly hard for you. 

Cold rings searing against his skin, Choso wastes no time - wanting to get this over with and join you again more than anything - starting up a hasty, desperate pace up and down his length that makes his knees buckle. Tighter on the base, just teasing his furiously flushed tip. Pink. Pink to match your bra.

With you so sinfully soaked through, wearing that goddamn lacy bra out there, Choso wasn’t as strong a man to possibly get you out of his mind. He can’t help but imagine your sultry smile, how it would look wrapped around his cock. 

Arm straining now, a shiver runs down his spine - all the way to his throbbing erection. “Shit.” he breathes, “J-jus’ like that, sweetheart.” 

Head only filled with you, and your lips and you-

He milks his base tighter - would you take him all in one go? Look up at him with those beautiful, teary eyes as you choke around his cock? 

One hand pulls in urgent, jerky little moves that have his hips bucking into his fist. The other reaches up muffle the fucked out moans leaving his swollen lips. God, it would take everything it had in him to not fuck up into your pretty lil’ mouth. Watch you cock-drunk and taking him so well. 

Or maybe…

Eyes rolling to the back of his head, Choso fights back a groan as he reaches a hand up to teasingly thumb under his slit. Delicate beads of precum dripping onto the cold tile with a deafening drip! drip! drip! Smearing at the way he rubs maddening little circles under that one spot, grazing his sensitive veins. 

Maybe you’d be a a fucking tease - run your tongue under his pulsing head so agonizingly slow. Knowing you, you’d probably pull away as soon as he bucks his hips into your mouth. Lips swollen and glossed prettily with his precum as you whisper, “Now now, baby. If you don’t act like a good boy then you won’t get to cum~”

“Sh-shit, hah-” Choso thinks he’s going insane, he can practically hear your hums as you kiss along his length, tongue darting out to trace his throbbing veins so obscenely. Flicking at his sensitive head. Eyes sparkling - ready to positively devour him. 

All for him. 

It’s too much. 

“Ah- Ngh, fuck.” he moans hoarsely, letting out a low, fucked-out little call of your name. “More. Need m-more, sweetheart.” 

Body shuddering violently, sweat dripping from his brow, Choso’s thighs quiver as he fucks his fist at an almost-animalistic pace. Chasing his release with reckless abandon. 

Choso’s heart pounds wildly in his chest as he tries - and fails - to maintain control. Raspy whines of your name escape through the crevices of his fingers, cracking ever-so-slightly in a way he knows he’d be embarrassed about if he was in a better state of mind. 

Giving up his futile attempt, long fingers snake down below to cradle his balls in a way he knows you’d do better. Tugging and pulling at a jerky rhythm that matches his hand. 

Some tiny, practical part of his brain hopes - prays - that you won’t call off the water fight early and come up to check on him. He knows he should hurry up, he knows he’s fucked if you ever found out. Shit, he should bake you apology cookies tomorrow.

But fuck are so you perfect for him. Voice so pretty and eyes so warm as you turn your gaze to his undeserving self. He’d kill to see if you still look at him that way when - if - he absolutely ruins you.

Would you be able to take all of him? Would you pout adorably until he shoves his dick down your throat? Gagging as he hits the back of your throat over and over - oh how Choso would love to mess up your mascara. He’d fucking tattoo your lipstick stains on his dick if he could. 

“Cum f’me, baby.” you’d mewl, and shit would he burn down this entire world to hear you call him that. “Mm, fill me up with your cum, wan’ taste you, baby-”

“Fuck,” he curses again, voice thick with need, and tight balls twitching so sensitively. “Fuck...fuck fuck fuck. M’gonna cum- shit- gonna cum, sweetheart.”

You - all see-through white shirts and lacy bras that drive him wild. Giggling with the audacity of someone who isn’t making him slowly lose his sanity. You with prettily lips painted white with his seed. Cum and saliva mixing into a lewd pool on the sterile tile as you suck the soul out of him. 

You. 

And then he’s cumming. 

A raw, drawled-out keen of your name and he’s spilling into his fist. Thick, hot spurts of cum that paint his palms white in a way he wishes he could do to you. And behind his closed eyes all he sees is you - you you you-

You, dragging out his orgasm so torturously, lips decorated with his seed, dribbling down to your lacy pink bra, gushing so lewdly down your ready throat. You with your eyes dazed, lips swollen and quirking up into a fucked-out smile as he does so well for you - cumming, all for you.

You, with your wide eyes and disgust on your face as you realize just what he’d been doing on this suspiciously long “bathroom break”.

Shit.

Body still twitching with the shockwaves of probably one of the Top 5 orgasms of his life, Choso all but collapses against the bathroom door, panting heavily, utterly spent. For a moment, he lies there, wondering if this is what heaven truly felt like.

But as the euphoria of his high ebbs away into nothing but mere tingles, a slight wave of nausea crashes over him. 

Sighing, Choso reaches for the paper towels, ready to clean up his mess. If only you were there to milk him dry then he wouldn’t have to-

…

God, he was definitely baking you apology cookies tomorrow. 

Now, when it started drizzling shortly after Choso left, you took it upon yourself to usher the kids back home and hand over his t-shirt personally like the good samaritan you are - out of the goodness of your heart, of course. 

Not for any reason whatsoever because you were hoping to get at least one more glimpse of those sinful nipple piercings up-close.

…

Okay, perhaps there was a slight ulterior motive involved. 

Either way, what you’d expected was for a flash of silver as you handed over his drenched t-shirt. Or maybe that familiar easy smile to warm you up from the icy water.

Literally anything but to find yourself frozen outside the bathroom door, cunt dripping, and ears ringing with the muffled echoes of his pornographic groans.

At first, completely mortified, your fight or flight instinct had kicked in as you realized just what those rhythmic, fucked-out little grunts meant. Only for you to choose neither option - staying rooted to your spot with the utterance of one, simple, word - your name.

Confusion whirls in your mind almost as much as the throbbing in your cunt, knees weakening. Heart thumping louder and louder in your ears at each whine of your name. Shivers running down your spine - all the way to your wet cunt as it really sets in that this was Choso. And he was fucking his fist in your bathroom. To you.

And you didn’t mind?

In fact, you find yourself leaning against the door, thighs squeezing together - mere inches away from where you imagined him slumped against it. Soft strands sticking to his forehead, cock hot and heavy, aching for release. Ragged breathing as if caught off guard by the intensity of his own pleasure. Broken whispers of your name leaving him over and over-

Really, you know you should give him your privacy. But if the white-hot ropes of pleasure running up your spine are anything to go by then, well, is it really that bad?

You have half the mind to just reach down down down - just a little release. Almost jealous of Choso-

Click!

You’re sure you could rival Usain Bolt with the way you ran down those stairs. Cheeks flaring, his damp t-shirt still clutched tightly in your hand. Mind racing with only one thought - this little fuck wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.

---

You can barely remember what transpired after your little discovery. You couldn’t decide who looked more dazed - you or Yuji, who was being practically dragged out that front door as Choso exited hastily with vague mentions of baking and cookies

And in the ringing silence that followed after that front door slammed, you couldn’t help the smirk that found itself onto your face. This was going to be fun.

But if there’s anything you’ve learned about Choso - it’s that even after twenty-something years on planet Earth, that man can not take a hint.

You somewhat had an inkling after the fifth time you decided to sunbathe in just a skimpy bikini at exactly when you knew he’d be watching. Well, you might not have gotten any reaction other than an extremely flushed face at the window, but at least you knew he’d have more very fun bathroom breaks.

Hell, one time you even bought ice lollies for the whole house - but especially Choso. Making sure those dark eyes followed every lick and trail of it dripping down your fingers under the scorching summer sun. Ultimately resulting in nothing more but a heavy gulp and for his ice lolly to hit the grass faster than it could even begin to melt. 

Ugh, should you get your brother to start another water fight? That went down well last time. 

It’s only after another failed attempt at trying to get him alone and a few hours of deliberating whether you should ship your interrupting brother off on a cruise too that you realize you have to get out the big guns.

“The big guns” being stealthily organizing a sleepover for your brother at the Itadoris, then inviting Choso over for a movie night. Simple, right? And, well, if anyone asked, you could just say the movie just so happened to be rated R. 

It wasn’t too hard to convince your brother that a sleepover with Yuji would be the best thing since sliced bread. The excitement in his voice palpable as he agreed, not suspecting a thing.

You just didn’t think it would be even easier to convince Choso to come over with a simple playful text of “Netflix no chill. Haha jk…unless?” But then again, when has Choso not surprised you?

And that night, as your brother eagerly headed off to Yuji’s place, you couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of guilt - but, hey, it was for a good cause, right? 

It’s a win-win either way - your brother gets to spend the night with a friend and you get to be here, so achingly close to Choso on that couch. So close that you could feel the heat radiating off of him, stealing glances at his sharp profile as the conversation flows easily about the movie playing on screen.

Shifting ever-so-slightly closer, electricity crackling between you two was palpable. You smile in anticipation, after all - you weren’t lying about the movie being rated R.

Now, Choso certainly didn’t come over to your house tonight expecting a wholesome rerun of Cars 2. However, he also wasn’t expecting the blockbuster action movie to suddenly unfold into something so steamy.

Goddamn lecherous directors and their goddamn pervy movies.

Eyes firmly trained on the ground, instead of the actress currently fake-moaning dramatically onscreen, Choso tries to ignore the subtle shift of your hips or the way the temperature in the room has currently increased by about 10 degrees. Or the way your moans would sound a million times prettier in his ears.

Alas, Choso was not a strong man, and he especially tries to will away the blood rushing straight to his cock right now - but how could he? You were such a vision of temptation, so close and warm and close to him on the couch.

This was absolute torture. 

“God, this is so painfully fake. Don’t you think so?” your voice rips through the deafening silence between you two, tone careful and balanced, startling Choso out of his little reverie.

His eyes flicker hastily to meet yours, and for a moment, he seems caught off guard by your sudden interruption. “Oh, yeah.” voice rough with a hint of nervousness. “I’ve seen better performances in middle school plays.”

You nod, the tension between you thickening as you lock eyes. “I mean, who even writes this stuff?” you continue, leaning in even closer to Choso, words positively dripping in sarcasm. “It’s like they’ve never actually had sex before.”

Choso lets out a shaky laugh, the sound strained as he shifts subtly in his seat - but not subtly enough. Because you catch the way he desperately tries to adjust his now-uncomfortably tight pants. Success. 

“Yeah, exactly,” he clears his throat, ripping his gaze away from yours.

You study him for a moment under the dim lighting, noting the way his hands clench and unclench in his lap, the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he struggles to control his breathing. He was nervous. Nervous and horny - exactly where you wanted him. 

A sudden rush of adrenaline courses through your veins, and you lean even closer to the man. Not even a hair’s breadth between you two - you relish in his strangled gasp as your tits press so enticingly against his arm. 

“Choso, just a thought.” you hum casually, lips mere inches from his ear. “Wanna recreate the scene better?”

His breath hitches at your words, muscles rippling so deliciously beneath your touch. “Do you know what you’re saying?” he rumbles, lowly. Eyes darkened and unreadable.

You smile, heart pounding against your chest as your lips brush against his earlobe. “Absolutely.”

It was like something snapped.

Because then he’s kissing you. And you’re kissing him. Because goddammit you haven’t spent the last month sneaking glances at those pretty lips for nothing.

Movie completely forgotten, Choso is warm under your touch - all sculpted chest and urgent pulses as his lips kiss you dizzyingly. Groaning lowly as your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer.

He breathes you in with an infectious desperation that bleeds into his hands, wandering every inch of your skin - as if he didn’t have enough time. And he probably didn’t. Distantly, Choso thinks that no time in the world would be enough to absolutely fucking wreck you the way he wanted to.

Large, hurried hands grope your chest, squeezing so teasingly in a way that almost made you think he was trying to feel out what bra you were wearing - lacy pink. His favorite, of course.

You minx.

Urgently tugging the hem of your tight shirt over your arms, Choso tosses it god-knows-where. Mouth watering as he pulls away to greedily take in the heavenly view of your heaving chest - the same one he’s shamelessly fucked his fist to for too long.

God, you were perfect. With a soft, little oh! Choso leans down to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses on every bit of exposed skin he could reach. Nipping, and tugging lightly. Relishing in the way you whine for his lips again.

Threading a hand through his soft hair, you lightly pull him back to you. Breath fanning his face, lips ghosting over his own.

“Kiss me, you fool.”

And, well, Choso didn’t have to be asked twice. Molding his mouth against yours once more. Letting your lips part, you intertwine your tongue so sinfully with his. He tastes just like he looks - so intoxicatingly delicious.

With a breathy sigh, he lightly taps the curve of your ass. Hands lingering for far longer than necessary, kneading the flesh in a way that has your skin searing. 

You get the signal. Urgently, you loop your legs around his waist. “Choso- bed.” you whisper, muffled in-between kisses. “Now.”

Shivers run down your spine at the way he chuckles darkly, “Honestly, sweetheart. I don’t even hah- know if we’ll make it there.” Mumbling against your lips, “Would you kill me if I take you right here right now?”

“I’ll kill you if you don’t fucking do something.” you hiss, words dripping in desperation. Ah, but Choso, ever the merciful man, shuts up whatever other retort on the tip of your tongue with his own. Kissing you with almost-bruising intensity as he gets up from his seat. Strong arms securely wrapped underneath you, holding you flush against his warm skin.

Choso doesn’t pull away even once as he hastily makes the route to your room. And honestly, with the speed at which your back hits the soft mattress, bouncing at the sheer force at which you two fell on top, you wouldn’t even be surprised if he teleported there.

Now safely in the confines of your room, you all but rip off Choso’s snug t-shirt. Those familiar obscene nipple piercings winking at you under the dim lighting in greeting. 

“Always wanted to do this.” you murmur, surging forward as if on autopilot. Lips latching delicately onto the pretty pink nipples, tasting the cold metal on your tongue. 

“Oh- oh, fuck. A-always knew you had a thing hah- f’my piercings, sweetheart.” Choso breathes out, letting you have your fun. His favorite bra now at the foot of your bed. Fingers deftly sneaking under your skirt, blood rushes straight to his cock as he feels the positively soaked state of your panties - if you could even call them that. 

Sanity snapping, he immediately flings off your skirt. Throwing it somewhere across the room with no care or concern for where it ends up. All so he could look down at oh-

Oh god, if you had to describe Choso’s face as he takes in the sight before him - it would be absolutely losing his sanity. Your pussy dripping and clenching around nothing - all for him.

Strings of slick trail down your thighs as Choso hooks one, long finger under your slutty g-string, tugging impatiently.

You keen as the cold air hits your dripping cunt. Yet Choso’s eyes stay locked hungrily on the sticky fabric intertwined around his fingers “Guess you were expecting this, huh?” he murmurs, voice thick with desire. 

Scoffing, you buck your hips up for something - anything. “I’ve been wanting to fuck you since that first night I hit on you, y’know,” you admit, the heady air of your room melting away any reservations you had previously. 

And that seems to snap Choso out of his trance - eyes flickering over to you, darkened with something so carnal that it makes your cunt throb. “Oh yeah?” he mumbles, swiftly stuffing the g-string in his pocket before leaning down, hot breath hitting your ear. “Now, what was that pick-up line you were gonna say that night?” 

You gasp in embarrassment, heat flooding to your cheeks at the memory. “Wha- that doesn’t matter. I was drunk and-”

Smack!

The delicious sting on your ass hits you before the realization that Choso smacked you. He smacked you. Even later do you realize that you like it - slick beading so obscenely at your sloppy hole.

“What was it, sweetheart?”

You shudder at the tone that leaves no room for argument. The words tumbling out of you as Choso caresses soothingly over the handprint on your ass. “I- it’s stupid. I was gonna say that I’m down to sit on your face, baby.”

“Thought so,” he grins, pulling away from the dizzying proximity. Shifting - well, more like manhandling - you to flip positions. 

God, you could almost sink into his muscles as he lays back on your bed. Voice low and dangerous as he utters words that go straight to your dripping pussy, “Now, sit on m’face.”

And before you know it, you find yourself hastily straddling Choso’s pretty face. Hands snaking down his milky abs, lips kissing along his tattoos, catching purposefully on his sensitive nipples. 

Warm breath fanning your quivering cunt, he reaches up to cup your ass, nudging your needy core to his mouth. Kneading. Groping. 

Not stopping his ministrations even when your slick oozes slowly, torturously through your swollen folds and onto his awaiting tongue. A maddening drip! drip! drip! ringing in your ears above your thundering heartbeat.

Choso groans at the mouthwatering sight above him. You - spread so shamefully open for him and clenching around nothing. 

“Luckily for you, sweetheart, wanted you to sit on m’face ever since I saw you.” sweet juices flowing down his throat, words muffled against your throbbing lips. 

He barely even gets the words out before he’s surging forward. Licking a long, languid stripe up your heated folds. Again. And again. Faster at the pretty moans that spill from your lips.

Pushing his tongue in between your slit, past that first, tight ring of muscle. Bullying it deeper and deeper. Chin pressing against your throbbing clit, ravaged at each movement of his face. 

He caresses your warm walls, relishing so filthily at the way you clamp down on him in surprise. “Hngh- oh shit, baby. Ah-”

Your sweet moans are music in his ears and shit - you called him “baby”. It’s as if every wet dream he’s ever had has come to life as Choso dips in and out at a ruthless pace. Pulling out to tease your dripping entrance, pushing past mercilessly into your plushy walls. In and out in and out in and out-

His cock strains so painfully against his pants at the way your sloppy hole sucks his tongue in so obscenely - almost as if it hurts to part. Tongue fucking you the way he wishes he could with his cock right now.

“Oh- Hah- Choso! Fuck, baby. S’good.” your body arches into his absolutely depraved tongue. 

Desperate whines spilling incessantly from your mouth at the way he quirks his tongue up just right to graze that spot he knew would have you grinding down on him for more. “Ah! Right there - jus’ like that!”

As if he knew exactly how to drive you wild. Exactly how to break you. You almost don’t notice the mindless, shallow little thrusts of his hips into your open palm. Almost.

Eyes snapping open at the tremors, you reach a hand across his quivering thighs. All the way down towards the very obvious dark patch on his pants - right where his furiously hard tip was leaking thick, relentless precum that made your mouth water. 

Oh, how you’d kill to taste him - see if the rest of him is as intoxicating as his mouth is.

So you do. 

Choso was so pussy-drunk in-between your thighs that you think he barely notices the way you fumble with his belt. Shakily pulling those pants down just enough to glimpse the rock-hard erection that those boxers do nothing to hide. 

“Shit,” you whisper, voice strained with need. 

You always imagined Choso had a big cock - but this was ridiculous. Your pussy clenches in both nervousness and anticipation as you imagined the delicious stretch of him splitting you apart on it. Breaking you. 

And that’s probably when Choso notices - you clamping down so filthily on his tongue. 

“Oh?” he rasps, voice sending white-hot vibrations of pleasure right up your spine. “Didn’t think you were so desperate for my cock, sweetheart. Gon’ make me cum, hm?”

Now, you’ve always thought of yourself as a woman of action rather than empty words. Which is probably why you urgently pull down his boxers. Choso’s painfully hard erection springs out, hitting his lower abs. 

You take a moment to admire the long, heavy cock in your hands - a deliciously pretty pink on top, furiously leaking glistening precum. Saliva pooling in your mouth - you shove it as far down your throat as you possibly could. 

Oh, how many times in his life has Choso imagined this moment right here. In the shower, right before bed, right after waking up too. You’re really a dream come to life. 

A startled, strangled moan of your name leaves Choso’s kiss-bitten lips as you take him all in one go. Only to pull back and spit once- twice on his throbbing cock. The steady stream of spit cool - followed so maddeningly by the warm heat of your mouth once more. You start up a torturous, filthy pace bobbing your head up and down on his cock.

He strains his head to catch a glimpse - even just one - of your nose pressed against his pelvis. Breathing in the heady scent at the tufts of hair at the bottom, already wet with precum and spit. His dirty girl. 

Popping off with a lewd squelch, “Feels good, baby?”

“Feels perfect.”

But he wasn’t gonna fall far behind.

Immediately attaching his lips with yours once more, Choso dives nose-deep in your dripping cunt. Rolling your throbbing clit in between his lips. Flicking his tongue along the sensitive bud in a way that makes your head feel so light. He alternates between a slow, languid torture on your clit and fucking into you unforgivingly.

Your movements stutter as you teasingly lick at his sensitive slit. The salty flavor of his precum is probably your favorite taste now. That bastard.

Reaching down, you cup his heavy balls, massaging the tender flesh in harsh, hasty circles that match your mouth down his length - up and down up and down up and-

Muffled moans and lewd squelching filling the heated room. A rhythmic, sinful cadence that both of you were losing your sanity to. Movements more frantic now. Desperate to make the other cum. Desperate to be first.

Letting out soft, raw grunts, Choso fucks up his throbbing erection into your mouth. Your eyes water as his tip abuses the back of your throat. And it makes you wish you could see how messy he looked right now. All smudged eyeliner and slick-glossed lips. 

Gagging around him, a mixture of drool and precum drips sinfully down the corner of your mouth as you increase your pace, pooling messily on his lower abs. Sloppy - so sloppy.

So it only made sense that your orgasms were the same. 

Pleasure dizzyingly overwhelming, you gush around Choso’s mouth with a stifled squeal. Stars behind your eyes, vision blurring, mind blanking - the only things you register being the languid tongue lapping up at your sweet juices and the guttural groan of what sounds like your name as Choso shoots thick, hot spurts of his cum down your throat. 

Throat burning as the salty taste fills your senses, you milk his cock for more more more- his dick pulsing and stuttering in your mouth. Cum staining the fresh sheets below - a problem for later. 

Right now all you were focused on was riding out your high, grinding almost animalistically on Choso’s pretty face. 

You’ve barely removed yourself from him with a lewd pop! before Choso’s wrestling you back onto the mattress. Two fingers squishing your cheeks into an embarrassing pout, cold rings digging into your skin. The other hand snaking in between your thighs to play with your still-twitching cunt. 

“Didn’t say we were done yet, sweetheart.” he mutters. You weren’t done - no, far from it. Because fuck a refractory period - both of you were going to take all you could get.

And before you can think of anything else, Choso is leaning down, hand prying your lips apart for him into a brutal kiss. Teeth clashing, lips bruising. He forces his tongue down your throat. Tasting himself before you barely get a chance to taste him as well. 

“Hah- fuck-” you flinch as he swears into your bruised lips. “So fuckin’ sweet. You taste so good sweetheart.” The sheer debauchery and ache of his cock too much for him. 

Tasting him. Tasting you. Both a heady flavor that leaves you yearning for more. 

You bite down on his bottom lip in retaliation, relishing in the drawn-out groan that rumbles into your mouth at this. The kiss is feral. It’s animalistic. It leaves you feeling so fucking dirty. 

And you barely recognise the dazed, predatory glint in Choso’s eyes as he pulls away, his mind clearly miles away as he spits once. Twice. Three times on your face.

The wads of saliva and cum hit your face with a warm, wet jolt. You whine at the way it seeps into your skin, dripping down your cheeks so fucking obscenely. Pooling at the sheets below in a way that makes you feel sorry for whoever had a shift at the laundromat tomorrow.

“Now, what do we say, sweetheart?”

A fucked-out, delirious smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you realize - yeah, you wouldn’t have it any other way. “Thank you.”

Not even when Choso lets out a dark chuckle, throwing your legs over his sculpted shoulders and manhandling you so that you’re splayed out so shamefully for him. Dripping cunt spread for his greedy gaze and clenching around nothing - aching for him. Begging for him.

Not even when he lines up his still-rock hard cock at your entrance, tip - angry and red - weeping so desperately as he nudges at your sloppy hole. Dragging his head along your folds collecting every bead of slick, just grazing your pulsing clit. Every muscle in your body trembling and anticipating what was to come.

You mewl at the stretch as he presses in - deliciously painful, boderling insane, and exactly what you wanted right now. Splitting you apart on his throbbing cock. 

And especially not when he bottoms out inside you in one, harsh thrust. Burying himself inside your sloppy walls till his twitching balls smack against your ass. 

“Ah- hngh- oh fuckkk.” you keen in both pain and pleasure - broken, raw moans leaving you uncontrollably. But not for long, because suddenly Choso’s shoving two ringed fingers in your mouth, bullying their way inside till you’re gagging and moaning around them. 

Pressing right at that spot on the back of your tongue that makes your eyes tear up so prettily. Hey, if he couldn’t see you choking on his cock properly, the least he could do is see you choking on his fingers, right?

“Now now, wouldn’t want anyone else to hear, hm? Our brother’s would get worried.” he chuckles. Pure, dark amusement in his eyes as he takes in your swollen lips, the teartracks down your cheeks, how utterly beautiful and debauched you look underneath him. So much better than any lust-hazed imagination of his.

And yet, even when you’re being gagged and split apart on his cock, you find it in yourself to be mouthy. Words muffled around his thick fingers as you raise a brow. “There’s no one else home, though?.”

The corners of Choso’s lips lift into a devilish grin, “The neighbors, sweetheart.”

His tone is teasing, but there’s an undercurrent of seriousness that sends a chill down your spine. He’s just joking, right? Right?

“Wha-”

And probably because he was losing his patience - and partly to shut you up - Choso begins to move.

Pushing past the resistance, beginning to fuck into you in shallow, uncontrollable movements of his hips. Just little motions to get him off, groaning at how sinfully tight you were - the way you were sucking him up so good.

Next time, Choso thinks, reaching down a hand to draw tight, little circles on your poor, abused clit - next time he’ll fuck you right. Hours upon hours of teasing you so you don’t know what it feels like when you’re empty without him. 

But fuck does he think he could just about pass out right now.

There’s no going back now. Choso fucks you in a way that makes you feel so deliciously filthy. Plunging into your heated cunt with no restraint. Thrusts positively savage.

Pulling all the way back so that his leaking tip just barely kisses your sloppy entrance, slamming down down down, Choso fucks you at a merciless pace. Relishing the delicious stretch of your cunt as he thrusts into you with a desperation that surpasses the need for reason. 

“Sh-shit, sweetheart. God, s’tight. better than I ever could’ve imagined.” he moans breathlessly, brows furrowing, eyes rolling to the back of his head, the feeling of you milking the absolute soul out of him just too much.

“Oh, yeah- wanted this for so long-”

You yelp every time he rams his cock into you, the smacking of his toned pelvis against your thighs stinging almost as deliciously as his tip kissing your cervix. The obscene slapping of skin on skin makes your cheeks burn - both pairs as his heavy balls smack against your ass each time he shoves his throbbing cock into you.

And because you can’t leave him alone, of course, you find your nails digging harshly into his muscled shoulders. 

Pulling him impossibly closer. You want more. You need more. 

Maybe you say those words out loud - you don’t even know anymore, too delirious and cock-drunk from Choso and your last orgasm and Choso - because his eyes widen ever-so-slightly, mouth falling open into a small oh. Your cunt twitches at the surprised, fucked-out little laugh that leaves him,  “More? My sweetheart wants more?”

And, as you’ve come to learn with Choso - anything you want, you will get. 

“Then fucking- take it.” he grunts lowly, each word punctuated by a harsh thrust of into your plush walls that sends both of you spiraling deeper and deeper into insanity.

And God does he make you take it. Every inch of him fills you, stretching you beyond your limits - both your cunt and your senses as he leans down to bury his head into your neck, hips moving so sloppily, hiking your leg further up his shoulder. The change in angle making you see stars.

Your hips buck up in tandem with his, uncontrollable little ah! ah! ah! leaving you at each thrust. You whimper in pleasure and overstimulation into the heady room, “Yes. Yes yes yes- wan’ cum. Need more. Need you-”

“Fuck- Hngh-” is all he manages to gasp out, pleasure overwhelming his sensitive cock. Choso’s balls twitch almost painfully as they keep smacking your ass. Brain still not keeping up with his body because shit, this is all he’s wanted for years, the least he could do is make you cum before him.

“Sh-shit, sweetheart.” he rasps into your heated skin, “So close- m’ so close.”

You all but sob at his words, “M’too- hngh- ah, m’gonna cum, baby.”

You didn’t expect the petname to be what breaks him, but then again you didn’t think there was anything more left to break. Because Choso groans gutturally, cock twitching inside you “Shit, you’re driving m’crazy, y’know that?”

“I know.” you mewl, voice breaking at the way he increases his frenzied pace on your clit. You could barely even call them circles, just filthy little movements to get you closer and closer to the edge. So close. You writhe beneath him, desperate for release.

And what you didn’t expect was for Choso to connect his sweaty forehead with yours. You take a second to admire just how beautiful he is - all smudged eyeliner, tousled hair, your release still shining on the lower half of his face, and yours. All yours. You could probably stare at the sight forever.

Choso’s hot breath fans your face as he moans breathlessly against your lips, words slurring together as he ruts into you mindlessly, “Always did, y’know?”

“I know.”

“No- y’don’t hah- understand, I- for so long fuck- I-”

“Choso, just kiss me.”

And then you’re kissing him. And he’s kissing you like you’re the most precious thing on Earth. A slow, tender little dance that doesn’t match the way he rams his cock inside you. 

And then you’re cumming. Stars behind your eyes - or maybe those were tears - clamping down desperately on the harsh, jerky movements of his glistening cock that fuck you so sinfully like his little slut. 

White-hot pleasure runs down your spine, or maybe that was Choso - painting your insides the prettiest white you’ve ever seen. Shooting thick, hot ropes of his seed into your waiting pussy. A creamy ring forming around his base as he spills his cum into your snug cunt as he moans against your lips.

It’s messy. It’s sloppy. And as Choso fills you to the brim, hips still unforgiving, seed dribbling out of your dripping pussy at the way it was so overfilled - you think that it’s all you could ever want. 

As his cock twitches finally, exhaustedly - and you distantly wonder how the fuck it isn’t seizing up - Choso collapses onto you, thoroughly fucked-out. Finally pulling out with an obscene squelch, you hiss lowly at the pool of cum that forms beneath you. Gushing out of you sinfully. 

A weighty silence in the air as you both try to catch your breaths.

In the haze of your orgasm you realize that even after all that transpired, he still isn’t laying his full bodyweight on you.

Too afraid to break you.

To break whatever this tender little understanding in the air was.

And it makes some part of your heart clench so delightfully. Subconsciously, you thread a hand through his damp hair, breathing in that familiar smell of vanilla and sunshine - and the heady scent of something so Choso. It makes you intertwine your body so impossibly close with his, not knowing where one of you ends and the other starts.

“My parents are coming home tomorrow.” you start, casually. 

“Mhm. But I’ll still be around here, sweetheart.” Choso rumbles into the crook of your neck. Kissing soothingly over the marks he’d made in the heat of the moment - some carnal little part of him proud of the way you looked like you were fucking thrown to a pack of wolves. 

Words hiding a tense little fear beneath them as you probe further. Something prickly and scared rolling around in your stomach. “For babysitting?”

“Nope.”

Settling deeper into the covers, basking in the afterglow of him. You know you should get up and clean, but right now this was all you wanted. And maybe no other words were needed. 

“God, am I glad your parents aren’t home.” 

Except maybe those. 

You chuckle as you pull back to stare into those deep, dark eyes. Cheeks flaring at the tender little warmth in them much more than they had when he was fucking you so sinfully. A devious idea coming to mind - because now that you got a taste, you were absolutely hooked.

Choso Kamo was absolutely intoxicating.

“Well, we still have time so how about-”

A distant click!

“Honey, we’re home~!”

Shit.

A/N. Fun fact this was originally supposed to be called Timeout! but it was giving too much me during beep test.

Plagiarism not authorized.

YAKUZA!TOJI X MILF!READER —aka toji on some joe goldberg bullshit

🎞️ 𝐒𝟏 𝐄𝟏:

⟢ rating: mdni 18+ stalking, drugs (alcohol, cigs), yuji is yakuza!sukuna x reader child, toji is a freaky frog (lol tysm @buttercupblu143 for that), toji is delulu af, size-kink, milf kink, breeding kink, voyeurism, dilf!toji, obsessive tendencies, heavy manipulation, brooding, yandere fluff. ⟢ episode run time: 𝟒.𝟖𝐊

⟢ episode list: m.list ⟢ subscriber access: please comment on m.list to be tagged, rather than individual episodes as its easier for me to track. ⟢ director's note: i've been working on this fic so long so i'm finally happy to share it with you, hope you enjoy it! disclaimer—this is a plot-driven, eventual smut fic and is told mostly in Toji POV through flashbacks until the end of episode 3. so if you stick with me i promise you a freak nasty pay off in episode 4 💕🤭. the build up and decent into Toji's crazy makes it 100x better, trust~

Cracking his stiffened neck with a pop, Toji lazily exhales a plume of smoke. Absent-mindedly watching as it dissipates up into the amber sky. 

Streaks of molten gold laced with crimson flare in the atmosphere as the sun sinks into the horizon, its reflection shimmering like fire off the distant Tokyo skyscrapers. 

Worthy of being his favorite smoking spot, the idyllic viewpoint of his balcony is breathtakingly peaceful—or it would be, if it didn’t also provide a front-row seat to his next-door neighbors' heated domestic disputes.

“No more lies Ryo! I’m taking Yuji and we’re getting the fuck up outta this place!”

Your voice in particular travels outside loud and clear once it reaches a certain octave, eviscerating any serenity the spot may have offered. It’s almost as if the sky was perfectly mirroring the tumultuous end of a relationship in the violent dusky atmosphere.

Heh.

Well, Toji supposed a few things in life could actually be coincidences. 

He would call it poetic—but nah.

Toji knew fuck all about poetry. 

“Bitch? Oh I’M the crazy bitch?! BET! I’ll show you a fuckin’ crazy ass bitch!”

Toji snorts, pushing back his messy bangs as he blows more clouds into the atmosphere.

“Y’er really sumthin’ else mamas....”

To say Toji is impressed by you is an understatement.

You're confident, not taking shit from nobody—not even your high-ranking yakuza baby daddy.

Toji likes that trait about you—just one of many on the ever-growing list of things about you that have caught his attention over the past few months.

93 days to be exact.

That’s how long it had been since you moved into The Nursery and he first laid eyes on you.

The Nursery—as it is dubbed by those in-the-know, stands as a highrise of luxury condominiums owned by the Yakuza. Located in a luxury suburb of Tokyo, Denenchofu, The Nursery serves as an undercover haven to place the girlfriends, favored mistresses and illegitimate children of relatively high-level yakuza—out of the way.

And with the ease of a fond memory, Toji smirks, remembering the very first day you moved in.

⟡

The unfamiliar keys fumbled in your delicate hand as you had struggled to open the door to your new condo—the condo right next to his own.

Neighbors, eh?

Although Toji couldn’t say he was surprised. He’d gotten a tip he’d be getting a new neighbor but he couldn’t have imagined they’d be someone like you. 

A new mom of about a year—and a foreigner. 

That much he could tell from first glance. 

Your son, whom Toji would later learn was named Yuji, balanced on one hip while your purse and several other bags weighed on the other.

All your frustrations were betrayed in the tone of your voice as you cradled your phone between your ear and shoulder. Whoever was on the other end of the line acted as a sympathetic ear to your exasperation concerning the lack of help moving in. 

You were stressed to say the very least and in clear need of help.

Yet even to a stranger, it wouldn’t take more than a glance to see that Toji wasn’t the type to care about being neighborly—let alone considerate enough to help someone he didn’t know. So when he found himself moving toward you, the warm look of expectancy and familiarity you gave him was surprising.

Before he could even say a word, you turned to him with a bright smile, mouthed a weary yet appreciative ‘Thank you’, and unceremoniously plopped Yuji into his arms.

With one arm freed, you were finally able to open the door to your condo. 

Toji watched as you strolled inside, your bags haphazardly abandoned in the entryway, to survey the luxury condo—all the while still immersed in your phone conversation.

The exchange had left Toji at a loss for words. 

That was not how people typically reacted to him. 

While astute enough to blend in whenever needed, once noticed—a broad muscular man of over six feet, dark features and a deep menacing scar on his lip—to say Toji was merely intimidating would be a vast understatement.

Pocketing the unlit cigarette that had been in his mouth, he wordlessly followed you inside. A rare curiosity overtook him, and he would later be grateful that it had drawn him to you.

Toji’s eyes watched you closely as you moved around the space, but he remained silent, allowing you to conduct your inspection.

Instead, he seized the opportunity to inspect you.

Remaining in the foyer with Yuji, squirming but tucked safely under his arm, Toji’s eyes shamelessly roamed your body. Allowing his gaze to linger on the more curvier parts of you that commanded his attention.

The stretchy black leggings you wore fit on your form like second skin, while the waistband sat low on your hips. The tight material so graciously dug into your curves, showing off the exact shape of your plump backside.

Speaking of—Toji didn’t miss the way your ass nor thighs had jiggled when you swayed your hips, surveying the room.

On future occasions, when Toji had the pleasure of trailing behind you in the hall, he’d have to press his lips into a hard line in order to resist whistling at the sight. 

Toji quickly learned from your constant athleisure attire that you preferred to dress more comfortably.

But comfy didn’t mean frumpy.

On the contrary, from the sleek black italian leather of your Gucci bags and your pristine vintage 5411 sneakers, Toji could tell you were used to having nice things wrapped around your thick serpentine curves. 

But what really consumed Toji’s thoughts as he got to know you better was how, no matter how loose-fitting your tops, tees, and dresses were, they still somehow clung enticingly to the buoyancy of your fucking huge milk swollen tits.

Fuck n' hell—how crazy would it feel if he could just slip his dick between them? 

Toji chuckled to himself. 

He was no minute man but the heavy ripened mounds attached to you would even serve as a challenge for him, he was sure of it.

Licking his lips, Toji reluctantly tore his errant eyes away from your body once you ended your call and turned your attention back to him.

He still couldn’t forget the smile you graced him with upon meeting his gaze. Like a vision, your features sparkled brightly as you openly laughed at the way he was carrying Yuji.

“You might be built like a linebacker, big guy, but he’s a baby—not a football.”

Toji’s pants tighten at your words describing his physique even if they weren’t meant for flattery. 

His assessment of you was compeleted at that moment:

Toji concluded—you were the complete dictionary definition of a MILF in his eyes, and he knew from that very moment—with every fiber in his being—he wanted to fuck you. 

But almost annoyingly, more than that, he couldn’t remember the last time he felt true desire spread anywhere else besides his cock. A strange, almost faint-like feeling constricting his chest simply from the audacity of being in your presence.

“And where’s your boss, huh?” 

You looked skeptical of Toji as you took Yuji back.

The cherry-cheeked boy, thrilled to be in his mama's arms again, giggled and clung to you like a little koala. Toji watched intently, his gaze afix on you as you happily cooed back at Yuji while you gently bounced him.

Toji could have sworn you even had the nerve to bat your long lashes innocently upon glancing back at him for an answer.

It was your was entire aura Toji was utterly captivated by and rendered motionless.

Frozen.

The scene had stirred a feeling he’d thought he’d been numb to since his late wife passed. 

No one else had made him feel that way before or since.

Exactly who in the hell were you?

“Yo! Earth to tough guy! Don’t tell me you’re a mute yakuza?”

The scar on Toji’s mouth twitched. His expression pulling into an amused smirk from your either fearlessness, or just plain cluelessness, in addressing someone of Toji's rank in such a way.

Besides, Toji was a lot of things, sure, but snitch wasn’t one of them.

The mute yakuza you referred to—the ones consequently without tongues—were the only ones he knew of in the organizations.

“Nah, ma I aint.”

Toji dramatically lets his tongue roll out of his mouth for emphasis, taking pleasure in your recoil of him.

His thick appendage flicked salaciously at you and your eyes widened slightly, face warming, before feigning some indignation. 

You’d huffed at him, turning your head away at his display before opting to change the subject, sass still lingering.

“And you're here because…why? Sukuna couldn’t even be assed to make sure his son and baby moms’ moved in safely so he sent you? What?—he’s too busy thuggin’ in the streets?”

From the looks of the pink haired brat with the similar birthmarks under his eyes, it didn’t take much for Toji to deduce that you were put here by Sukuna even before you confirmed it to him. 

Toji had heard a hushed rumor from a while back that Sukuna had a kid with someone outside of the organization.

Tch, Ryomen Sukuna—a relative newcomer for how few years he had been in the organization though he had quickly risen in ranks. 

All due to his ruthlessness and cutthroat nature—taking over a rival organization’s business, which simultaneously gave yours a vast money-laundering front and quelled a long standing turf war in one go. 

Sukuna was a force. 

Dangerous and arrogant to a fault, with a generally unlikeable disposition to top it all off. But his impressive track record earned him the respect he had. 

The smug ornery bastard surely didn’t deserve a walking smokeshow like you. 

But Sukuna had at least done right by you to move you into The Nursery. 

You should be safe here at least—Or you usually would be.

But with the recent assassination of an executive overseas—one of the bosses right-hand men, everyone was on high-alert of potential threats or next targets. 

There was currently no information, nor motive on why this had happened. 

The assumption had been it was an internal coup, a power play—yet anyone with the means or motive had been in Japan at the time—including Sukuna.   

Sukuna had made more than his fair share of enemies during his short-time, even within the organization. It would be no gamble to say the people who wanted after Sukuna wouldn’t hesitate to hurt you or your kid.

Especially those who may have thought he had something to do with this recent upset.

Left to your own devices, you would surely end up dead with the mouth you had on you—but that wasn’t his problem.

Toji smirked. 

“That shitty lil’ rookie ain’t my boss mamas. If anything he’d answer t’me.”

Not exactly a lie—but not quite the truth either. 

As the Yakuza’s most deadly assassin, Toji was given the executive title but had always been a lone wolf in the organization. Toji didn’t necessarily have the direct authority to order Sukuna around, yet given Toji’s standing as an executive, Sukuna still had to show him respect.

Being sold into the organization as a young child to cover his former family’s debts, Toji had more than earned his stripes. Toji was someone, for whom for all intents and purposes, you did not ever want to see—as he would likely be the last person you would ever see should you have the misfortune. 

The rank was given to him more out of fear and reverence for his service to the organization than anything else. 

In contrast, Sukuna dealt in operations, a leader with a growing territory of command along with a unit of kyodai under him. 

Two completely different sectors.

However, Toji doesn’t regret he’d told the little lie as he remembers enjoying the way your face dropped, falling into embarrassment as you began apologizing profusely for the mistake. 

At least you knew better than to sass Sukuna’s superiors, besides, Toji couldn’t really blame you for thinking he was one of Sukuna’s lackeys. 

Toji was still fully suited from just finishing a job. It was rare to see anyone in the classic yakuza attire—a sleek black Hugo Boss suit—who wasn't actively on the clock for the organization. 

When members did visit their family here, they typically wore civilian clothing in order to keep up the clandestine appearances of an ordinary luxury condominium. 

Nevertheless, Toji was one of the few men in the organization who visited The Nursery regularly, rather than casual visits. As a result, it was not unusual for him to arrive dressed in this manner.

With narrowed eyes, Toji's gaze raked over your body again, savoring the way you continued to fluster under his stare. 

He thought he wouldn't mind punishing you for the minor transgression if it meant he could put that sharp tongue of yours to some good use.

A sly grin crossed Toji’s features. 

Towering over you, he savored how small you seemed below him and how tempting you looked, face flushed and tilted up to meet his smolder.

“Tsk, you know yakuza don't take disrespect lightly—so how exactly are you going to make it up t'me then, mamas?”

Toji could tell from the slight crack of amusement in your expression that you didn't miss his innuendo. Not as scandalized as you wanted to appear, you clearly found some humor in his forthrightness—even if you did continuously rebuff him. 

And Toji found he liked that too.

You didn’t take yourself too seriously but you still weren’t an easy girl by any means. 

If Toji were a lesser man, he might have started to drool as the small bow of apology you gave him highlighted the swell of your ample bosom nearly spilled out of your damn shirt, prompting a rough exhale through his nose as Toji tried to restrain himself.

He had forgiven you instantly, of course.

The buoyant visual being payment enough for Toji.

Nonetheless, being the perfect doll you were, you told him that although you didn’t have anything set up to offer him tea, you would bake him something once you were settled. 

Lightening the mood again, Toji chuckled, easing your worries of any lingering offense when he told you his name, mentioned he had a son around the same age, and that he owned the condo next door.

Toji made a mental note of your and Yuji's names as you told him. He took care to repeat your name in particular, letting it slowly roll off his tongue with a hint of mischief.

Your last name was not Sukuna—which pleased him to know that prior intel was wrong.

So you weren’t married to him. 

“Don’t tell me they sent you as the welcome wagon?”

You questioned Toji, interrupting his thoughts.

Toji merely chuckled at your naivety, this was still yakuza territory and the residents here could be treacherous if they found it necessary to be. 

“Heh, not quite. But this will be the warmest welcome you’re gonna get. Consider yourself lucky it was me."

Toji grin widened at your hmphs, and he continued.

"I’d watch your back though, ma. The women here can be just as vicious as their counterparts.”

Toji could tell you were intimidated in the least though, you balanced Yuji on one hip and placed your hand on the other in an obvious display of defiance. 

“I’ll have you know I can take care of myself just fine, tough guy.”

The challenging look you shot at him had pleased Toji.

You had some fight in you—but you had no idea just what you were up against.

Yet just as quickly, Toji’s satisfaction dropped when you followed that statement up with the fact that he should probably leave. 

You mentioned to him you didn’t want any bloodshed—your fears compounded given the current climate of everything—if Sukuna or one of his men showed up and found a strange man in his baby mama’s new condo. 

Toji snorted.

It was true, Sukuna has a wild temper. 

That much was known throughout the organization. 

Pfft, figures an asshole like Sukuna would also be incredibly possessive—but looking at you, who could blame him? 

However, it wasn’t something Toji was concerned with though, even now. 

Toji was one of the few yakuza, even among the executive ranks, who didn’t flinch when they heard Sukuna’s name. Hearing it leave your luscious lips Toji considers it more of a challenge than anything else.

“Bloodshed, eh? Don’t worry ma, I can hold my own.” 

Toji recalled the same tingle reviving in the depths of his chest for the second time as he watched you burst into hearty laughter.

“It’s not you I’m worried about Fushiguro! You think I got the kind of bread to afford a place like this on my own if something happens to Sukuna?”

Shaking his head in amusement, Toji would let you have this round.

“Heh, fair enough, ma—ya can just call me Toji by the way.”

With a playful smile, rolled your eyes at his overt attempt at familiarity, bouncing Yuji once more.

“Goodbye, Fushiguro! I’ll see you around!”

Toji finally allowed you to usher him out into the hallway with a wave as the movers arrived to bring in the rest of your belongings.

Stalling before entering his own unit, Toji listened as you unabashedly gave orders to the movers, taking the unlit cigarette from his pocket and placing it back in his mouth.

Heh, you were bossy too. 

Nevertheless, Toji was left trying to pinpoint exactly what it was beyond him wanting to fuck you that had his adrenaline pumping like crazy.

Or why the intrusive thought popped into his mind to say ‘he’d take care of you’ when you referenced something happening to Sukuna.

He didn’t even fucking know you.

Nevertheless, like a moth to flame from your first encounter, Toji found himself curiously drawn to the warmth and familiarity of your presence. 

The gut urge to look after you—to protect you, bubbling up to the surface.

And being attached like you were to Sukuna, you would need it.

From thereon, Toji would try in vain to shake you from his mind’s eye. That very same night, Toji recalls how he left The Nursery to return back to his Shinjuku penthouse.

Staying there and away from you for a few days. 

Although, he soon learned no matter where he went—thoughts of you followed relentlessly. 

Your alluring charms wove its way into his subconsciousness to taunt him even in sleep. It hadn't even been a week before Toji awoke to soiled, sticky sheets.

It was disgraceful. 

He wasn’t the type to get wet dreams—even back when he was a teenager. 

And seeking out the company of others had failed him too. 

Not even his favorite strippers from the top Minato City clubs he frequented—who were always eager to take him to the back for extra service—could scratch his ever-persisting itch for you. 

No matter how many warm holes he buried himself in, he was still left insatiable and frustrated.

Toji wanted you.

And really, who were you to suddenly insert yourself into his life, infecting him with this affliction for you, but not being his?

Something about you unsettled the indifferent disposition he had resigned himself to. He was no longer able to remain apathetic towards you.

Toji wanted—no, needed—to know more.

To know everything about you.

If only to be able to stop thinking of you, right? 

Toji reasons once learns the truth, exposing to him who the ‘real you’ was, the brain-buzzing visions of you would have stopped plaguing him.

Utilizing his skills as one of the most proficient underworld assassins, Toji had begun discreetly monitoring your comings and goings over the next few weeks. 

When you left for errands. When you checked your mail—what kind of mail you received. Not to mention, figured out a schedule for when that bastard Sukuna would visit you.

Toji figured out what country you came from as well as your hobbies and interests—eagerly soaking up every mundane detail of your life. And contrary to his initial thoughts, each piece of information about you he digested only left him with an unquenchable hunger for more.

Perhaps most importantly, Toji also surmised you were a pretty good cook and homemaker evident by the well-balanced grocery selection you’d purchase. 

Toji's stomach would never fail to grumble upon him smelling the foreign, yet delectable, scents that routinely wafted from under your door and into the hallway most evenings. 

Would you cook like that for him? 

From there the fantasies about seeing you as his wife had come surprisingly easy—something he admittedly did often.

Imagining he’d come home to you, after a kill and dinner would be on the table still warm, though he’d arrive at such late hours. Your kids would already be asleep, and you would be wearing a frilly pink pastel apron—and nothing else.

The more Toji thought of it, the more he craved for that to be his reality.

From that point, Toji found himself giving Megumi’s nanny more and more time off as he’d spent more nights at The Nursery in favor of his much larger Shinjuku bachelor pad.

If only for the slightest glimpses of you.

Toji would eventually come to the conclusion he couldn’t pinpoint a rational reason for continuing to keep tabs on you—except that he simply wanted to. 

So, that’s exactly what he continued to do.

Sure, it wasn’t logical. 

And yet, neither was the growing ache he felt in his chest every time he saw or thought of you. 

Toji's heart feeling simultaneously full and hopelessly barren when it came to you even now.

Toji quickly found that the highlight of his day was catching even a brief glimpse of your warm, gentle eyes and the affection you so openly shared with Yuji. Toji enviously watched the joy you found in your walks together and the way you affectionately cared for and doted on him.

The same affection he still struggles to give his own son.

Not that Toji was ever particularly good at expressing his emotions. 

Call it the nature of the job, but for an assassin, feelings and having something to lose often got you and whatever you held dear killed.

Toji had suppressed his emotions for so long out of necessity, that he didn’t think he was capable of feeling them at all until he had met Megumi’s mother.

Maybe he was growing older and softer, but experiencing the warmth of shared intimacy—even if it was only brief period of time with his late wife—had affected him in ways he wished it hadn’t.

Because all of that was now gone.

And perhaps more ironically, it wasn’t Toji’s violent profession that took his wife away, but illness. Thus, there was no one for him to blame.

No one for him to seek vengeance against but fate itself.

In the wake of her passing, it pained Toji to remember her, so he rid himself of every reminder, including Megumi—who, despite inheriting Toji’s features, had his mother’s gentle spirit.

Choosing to put Megumi in The Nursery was less painful for Toji, who hadn’t spent enough time with his wife to truly become a changed man.

He had only just begun to learn—only caught a glimpse of what a life filled with love could be like.

Love. 

A ridiculous thing, really. 

Since her death, even the word itself had felt like a bitter poison on his tongue.

But could you be the one to change that?

Toji saw in you the same vibrancy and love for life that his late wife had possessed.

And while his infatuation with watching you had grown exponentially over the past few weeks, he was practical enough to wonder if he was simply losing his grip. 

Heh, maybe he’d finally gone off the deep end this time. 

Perhaps it had just been too long since he’d interacted with a woman who had even a hint of a nurturing nature, and he was losing perspective.

The yakuza world didn’t typically attract women like that. 

The Nursery was proof enough—full of kept mistresses and fleeting flings. 

Any beauty these women had couldn’t make up for their shallow dispositions. Spoiled and self-centered, most cared more about the status that came from being associated with high-level Yakuza than about the men they were with. 

The arrangement suited them fine. They were happy to be trophies, to be used, shelved and obedient—whatever it took to maintain their lifestyle.

Toji had his fair share of them, too.

As a high-ranking Yakuza widower with a cute kid, Toji Fushiguro found no shortage of women in The Nursery eager to spread their legs for him.

Most propositioned him outright.

The men, if they suspected anything, weren’t foolish enough to confront Toji. Debatable whether they even cared enough to—these women weren’t their actual wives or legitimate daughters.

That was part of the reason he’d tried warned you about them—but you knew that too well by now, as Toji's cryptic prophecy of the unwelcome behavior had come to pass over the weeks you'd been there.

Seeing fresh blood in the water, the women of The Nursery had made it their mission to belittle you. They’ve assumed you don’t understand the Japanese customs or language well enough, trying to push you around as if you don’t belong. Yet their passive-aggressive isolating tactics failed undermine your confidence, at least from what you would show them. Your sharp retorts often left them stunned and stewing at your complete disregard for their pecking order.

To Toji you possessed a unique strength, and despite their attempts to diminish your spirit, you’ve shown them that you’re not easily intimidated. However, it wasn't fair to you—someone as earnest and good-natured as you should never have been brought here in the first place.

And truthfully, Toji knew Megumi didn’t belong here either, he was legitimate. 

Toji had married Megumi’s mother, she’d been worthy of the title of being a wife—like he had realized you were too.

You deserved to be an actual wife. 

Like Megumi deserved an actual mother.

Like Toji realized he deserved you.

⟡

CRASH— 

Toji snaps back to present reality when the sound of something heavy shattering jolts him from his thoughts. His hand is already on the .45 tucked under his shirt at the small of his back, his assassin instincts kicking in.

Your fights with Sukuna were never quiet to be sure, but they never escalated to the point of anything breaking. 

Yet, showing a rare display of restraint, Toji stops himself.

His errant hand flexes open and closed repeatedly as he suppresses the kill-or-be-killed instincts triggered by the noise.

Focusing in on the light sway of the sheer curtains, a large figure Toji recognizes as Sukuna storms by.

Toji’s stare is so intense it could burn through thick glass and curtains. He would quite literally kill someone just to see through them right now.

Tsk, it makes Toji regret not placing a surveillance camera in your condo.

He would have done it already—upon one of the many times he'd slipped into your apartment over the last few months—if he weren’t almost certain that Sukuna or his shrewd lackey, Uraume, would sniff it out immediately.

No, something like that would be too risky. If ever exposed Toji could lose you for good.

Gripping the railing until his knuckles whitened enough to match your curtains—the thought of not jeopardizing his chances is the only thing that stays his compulsion to leap over onto your balcony and break the sliding door off its tracks completely.

Toji's drive to protect you reaches an all-time high as the unfamiliar feeling of anxiety settles in the back of his throat if something were to happen to you. 

While he clearly holds you in high regard as the mother of his child, Toji knew that even with that respect, Sukuna's tolerance had its limits—and those limits were not easily stretched.

Toji couldn't let anything happen to you due to his own lack of action and yet—

STOP.

Calm down, Fushiguro. 

Toji steadies himself.

Calling upon similar patience he would embody before a kill.

He knows he can’t move rashly, not after all this time—after all he has planned. 

Sukuna would be out of the picture soon. 

Toji would wait. 

Like he’d been waiting. 

It wouldn’t be much longer now.

©𝐛𝐥𝐤𝐤𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐚𝐭 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐠𝐟𝐱, 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞.

⟢ end credits: how was that so far? like it? please comment, like and reblog and lmk what you think! stick around for more delulu yandere yakuza!toji. episode 2 has 7k already and is practically done. i have to do the edits my beta suggested and then do a final pass through to add in some foreshadowing :) if all goes well (should post on monday or tuesday).

SEMMM !! what are you thoughts on hard dom villain zuku ?? 🥺 he makes my pussy cream <33

i want to write an entire series on this bc there’s stages, i feel

at first, you’re collateral damage—some friend of a friend of a hero. you’re bait. tied up to some villain lair chair all pretty. he probably thinks you’re stupid for trying to fidget free. even if you did, he’d just toss you over his shoulder and drag you back.

but then, you won’t shut up. you’re chatty when you’re nervous. asking deku all these questions about where he’s taken you, his villain name, his suit—you’re dumb if you think a little conversation is g’na stall him of what he plans to do with you. but in the least, he’ll entertain you. but it’s more like he’s entertained by you.

mmm thinking of something like beauty n the beast—he’s had you in his clutches for a while now. you rarely see him, but when you do he treats you fairly well. he’s not violent—with you, at least. but you’ve seen him trudge in covered in blood and muck. you’ve, by complete accident, you swear, seen deku rip his suit off and let the water rinse him clean.

he’s not violent with you. but he is dastardly. you fight often, both of you get heated so quickly. and it’s his villain instinct to antagonize you. he’s mocking. he’s cruel. it makes you want to hit him. and maybe one day, you do—uncontrolled, seething, your hand’s slamming into his cheek before you even know it.

n’ then it’s his turn—wild green eyes and a grinning mouth are all you see. his hands wrap around your wrists, n then back, back, back. he’s folding you down, holding you still beneath him as he mounts you. that’s the first time you realize how much strength he could lord over you, if he really wanted to.

things take a nicer turn when he comes stumbling in after a particularly bad ass whooping. and, while watching deku grunt and growl in pain brings a smile to your face, something soft in you wants t’help him. so you do. coo at him real gentle while slathering his cuts in alcohol, heh. it’s supposed to be a small justice for your dislike of him—but this is when it strikes you that he’s a marvel. a sight to behold. you’ve been holding your breath since you realized how much bandage it takes to fully wrap around his stupid arm. the expanse of his back, the thickness of his waist—nearly every inch of skin covered in scars and scratches.

you’re so painfully attracted to him. the worst man on earth. what does that say about you? and even still, you can’t help the way your mind drifts. when the two of you are alone—it’s hard to not think of what he could do with you, what you want him to do with you. by your lonesome, in the dark of night, your fingers wander—pinch at your nipples and rub sweet circles into your clit. mouth opened in silent pleads for izuku to come do it for you. his hands are bigger. his fingers are thicker. rougher. he’d feel so good.

n’ while you put him back together (he never really fell apart), deku revels in everything you give him, even if it hurts. eyes fluttered shut under the soothing press of your little fingers against him. he adores your attention. i’m sure of it, as touch starved and lonely as he probably is. and he knows you’re talking to him, your nagging swirls in the back of his mind. there’s so much of you to focus on, to enjoy for himself.

even on his deathbed (not really) he’s still so condescending! doesn’t even spare you a look when he sighs, “can’t you tell daddy’s too tired to talk right now, sweetheart?”

i hate him <\3

i think the fucking wld happen gradually.

the first time, he comes home crazed and desperate. stalks around until he finds you in his room, on his bed. not doing anything particularly incriminating, but then you let it slip that you’ve missed him. you’ve been missing him. and you can only gasp when deku gets a hand on your pants and tugs em up to your knees. you roll back as presses his other hand against the back of your thighs, keep your legs in the air—out of my way.

being vulnerable like that, it makes izuku wanna ruin you.

gahhh deku moans when he gets his first taste of you. mind cloudy with the quirk of some stupid villain he had a scuffle with—because everyone has it out for the number one. heroes and criminals, alike. his body’s on fire and all he can think about is you. you, in a hundred different positions, making a hundred different faces. nose scrunched up and mouth watering with drool while izuku drags his cock in and out of you. on your side, your leg raised up to his chest like an animal. on your back, ankles over his shoulders. on your tummy, hips reared back like you’re in heat.

izuku makes you cum in his mouth until fat tears roll down your cheeks. until you’re tugging at his hair n’ trying to roll away—and even then, izuku catches you by the hip and licks you out just like that, while you tremble on your side, torn between bucking down against his face and writhing up to escape the merciless sucks to your clit.

then he’s dragging you to eat it from the back. then, he’s sitting you on his face. deku holds you still so he can eat in peace, and if you try wiggling away, the palm of his hand smacks right along the curve of your booty—fast, and hard, and cruel. and he’ll keep spanking you until you settle down >:(

it’s baby steps with him, i think. weeks after weeks of bein’ defiled by his tongue in so many different ways. n’then he works you up to bein’ split open and stretched on his stupidly big fingers. takes a while before he’s ready to fuck you. call it chivalry, if you will.

h-hard dom deku does have some toys for you, though 🥺 likes to mess around with bondage, i think..

by mofusand