Spookie Fics

Naturally, you wanted to say no. That was the first and most logical thought in your mind once prompted. Yet, “…Maybe.” is all that exits you.

“I don’t like maybes,” Hugo shoots back at you.

To which your eyes roll. “Well, I just gave you one.”

“Tch.”

He finally presses his middle finger down hard against your clit, making your hips squirm as his face angles down into the crook of your neck.

The movement allows you to feel how hard he is behind you—cock pressing up angrily against all his clothes. He could probably fuck you with the fabric on if he wanted to—yet somehow he managed to act as if none of this was driving him just as insane at it was driving you. Slowly, one of his other fingers meticulously move to tug your panties to the side.

Your breath catches embarrassingly against your lungs and his nose nuzzles into your skin as he takes a slow and steady inhale of your scent. If possible, Hugo would suffocate himself in your smell just to bring himself impossibly closer to you. After all, the concept of personal space is quiet lost to him when it concerns you.

Hugo’s free hand meets the inner left side of your leg and he pulls you further open. Then his mouth finds your skin and he hushes his words out against you in a low sear, “It’s like the attitude comes with a pussy this wet.”

Smack!

His hand had moved so fast that you flinched upon the sudden impact of him giving your cunt a rude strike. “Am I right? Do you always get this frustrated when you’re turned on?”

Another smack is earned before you can even answer. Then he’s soothing the sting over with a short ‘n slow glide of his fingers—massaging the area only to slap at it again seconds later.

Your voice jumps out of your throat shakily to respond to him, “F-Fuck, no?”

“You’re confused,” His hand gestures to hit your glistening folds again but he stops himself just before the sharp contact, and instead curves his hand to cup your pussy into his palm. “Here, grind on my hand while you figure your thoughts out.”

Before you move without thinking—something you’re rather known to do around him—your head shakes, “That’s n-not gonna help.”

Hugo scoffs. You’d had some habits of your own, and it seemed pointing out the obvious to him was one of them. Especially in times like this where he’s got you all hot, bothered, and flustered.

“I know. But that’s what you wanted, no?” He whispers, watching how your hips roll forth with the sound of his voice.

Any second now and surely you’d feel the nasty patch of precum his tip had drooled through the few fabrics between your bodies.

A curve finds itself in your back as it arches, and the steady bump ‘n grind of his warm palm against your pussy causes your voice to air out to something even whinier. “I wanted you to put your fingers inside me, Vivian.”

“Patience, chérie.” He coos, leaning his head up just to kiss the side of your face whilst you squirm in front of him. “You know how I love a good game.”

You wanted to groan or find some better argument to throw his way, but then only thing you manage out are words grumbled in between your own moans, “Pleasuring me shouldn’t be a game to you.”

“And yet…” Hugo’s hand grips the entirety of your cunt and you soak embarrassingly against him—clenching all stupidly around nothing.

“Vivi—“

He finally shifts his hand and two fingers circle around the outskirts of your entrance exactly three times before he plucks one of them in.

The squelch that your hole sobs out is nothing short of sinful, quickly making his hips move on their own to grind his dick forwards against your body. Then Hugo groans, but it’s arguably the softest noise you’ve ever heard—as if a whine had bargained to escape along with it.

A series of moans including his name pour out of you, and if it wasn’t obvious that you’d been waiting for this for a while (it was), then it damn sure is now.

Hugo slides in a second finger and your eyes nearly cross just from how thick a mere two digits feel thrusting into you. His chin finds your shoulder to rest on and he looks down just to watch his fingers disappear inside your greedy cunt—each thrust swallowed up with one squelch louder than the last.

“Thereee we go,” His tongue swats out to wet his lips and control himself from drooling. “I see why you had so much attitude for me now.” The fingers inside you halt for a couple seconds, and then he’s scissoring them against your walls, “You’re so tense in here.”

Your hands end up pawing at the bulk of his arms and his cock twitches. You were falling apart in front of him and he was loving every second of it.

“That feels so good-,” You were trying to whine out to him, but you’d end up choking on your words as his body grew impossibly closer to yours.

His fingers dove into your pussy faster and your juices were spilling out everywhere, the rapid pace forcing you to push back against him and lead you two sandwiched.

“I know, I know. You tried this on your own earlier, didn’t you?” Hugo questions all of a sudden—right as his fingertips jab at that spongy little spot inside you.

Your brain freezes and your jaw falls open, “H-Huh?”

He found it ridiculously cute how you pretended not to know what he was talking about.

“Oh, you thought I wouldn’t find out? Bunny told me—that bastard.” And roommate. “Said he heard you in our room. Why do you think I dragged this out so long?” His fingers are yanked out of you all too abruptly. Then he’s spanking you again, “You think I like having to punish you for touching what’s mine without permission? Hm?”

You were hardly keeping up with him at this point. The clothing between your bodies did nothing to stop you from feeling how his cock reacted to your every gasp and moan, and it got increasingly hard to think straight whenever he started speaking to you like that.

A slip of drool is painting itself an uneven little line against your skin as it slips downwards towards your chin, “V-Vivi—“

“Ohh, don’t Vivi me. You were just begging me for this. Surely you don’t whine for things you know you can’t handle?” Hugo’s fingers stop spanking you only to fuck something utterly rude into you, “Unless all those filthy imaginations of my cock inside you scrambled that silly head of yours? Is that it?”

Your lashes bat and you try shifting yourself to sit up or something, but all you’re met with is his unfairly study frame behind you. It was like having your back slammed up against a brick wall. “I c-can’t—“

His hand is holding your jaw before you can quite comprehend it and he’s angling your face further up to meet eyes with him. Hugo’s brows are taut again, “Can’t what? Think? Yes, I know. But I don’t need you to do that anymore. Just cum, cheire. Cum on my fingers. I know you want to.”

You’re nodding within his grip and he’s nearing your mouth so he can swallow up every little noise that escapes you. Even the drool on your chin gets licked up within the next few seconds.

Hugo alternates between fingering you and spanking your poor cunt over and over again until you’re clenching around him too tightly for the transition to be as easy.

Then he’s curving his fingers inside you and literally inhaling each of your escaped breaths before saying, “You’re still thinking too hard. Didn’t I tell you to cum?”

You moan immediately and he shuts you up with a kiss—relishing at how you pliantly finish on his fingers seconds later.

Against your mouth, he’s grinning. And when he inches away so that you can breathe, you hear him whisper, “That’s my girl.”

Louisiana heat was something you didn't just feel—you wore it like a second skin. Even inside the lecture halls of LSU, the humidity of New Orleans clung to everything, making the air thick and heavy. You had carved out a sanctuary for yourself in the very last row of the Business Administration grad program, your head down, curls cascading over your shoulders as you meticulously took notes. You liked the invisibility of the back row—it kept the world at bay, allowing you to exist in the quiet hum of your own thoughts. Your own fantasies.

But maybe you were dreaming lucidly, because he couldn’t have been carved out of anything but your dreams.

He didn't just walk into the room; he took possession of it. A mountain of a man he was, standing well over six feet with a muscular frame that seemed too large for the cramped university seating. His skin had that healthy, olive glow, dotted with a constellation of freckles and moles that trailed up his arms and settled along the line of his jaw. But it was the ink that caught your eye first—a dense, intricate sleeve that climbed his arm and crept up the side of his neck, marking him as something far removed from the typical corporate suit in the room. When he scanned the class, those deep green eyes flecked with hazel, landing on the only open seat left. Right next to you. 

“Mr. Yeager. So nice of you to join twenty minutes late."

The scrape of a chair as he—the giant—dropped into the seat beside you.

The professor then cleared his throat—“Well, since we’re all here now—let’s go around the room. Introduce yourselves. What you’re doing here. Why you’re here."

The room droned on, one polished MBA after another rattling off their five year plans like they were reading from the same corporate script. You tucked a loose cinnamon curl behind your ear, eyes glued to your notebook—until a deep, graveled voice cut through the monotony.  

“Eren.” 

Your head turned. He wasn’t even looking at the class—just you, those heavy lidded eyes scanning your face like he was memorizing it.  

“Oh—" you blinked, caught off guard by the directness.

“Um. I’m—"

“I know your name," he interrupted, voice low—“‘Professor called on you earlier. Said it real sweet, too. Like he knew you."

Heat flooded your cheeks. 

“…I grew up here. I’m assuming you didn’t?” 

One dark brow arched, “Nah. German roots. Moved down South young enough to know better,” a pause, “You askin’ ’cause of the accent?"

Your fingers fidgeted with the edge of your notebook, the paper crumpling slightly under your grip.  

“You talk kinda rough," you pointed out, voice so gentle it barely carried over the hum of the classroom. The moment the words left your lips, you regretted them—too forward, too familiar. But instead of bristling, Eren just tilted his head, that dark hair slipping slightly from its bun as he studied you.  

“You talk soft,” he countered, "Real soft. Makes a man wanna lean in."

Heat fully prickled up the back of your neck, spreading like wildfire across your cheeks once more. You ducked your head, pretending to scribble something important—anything to avoid that unblinking gaze.  

Eren didn’t seem to mind the silence. He stretched his legs out under the desk, his work boots scuffing the floor as you couldn’t help but notice how his thighs strained against the fabric of his jeans. 

How does a man like this even fit in these tiny chairs? 

“My old man’s handin’ over the business,” he finally said, low and unhurried. 

“Construction. Been workin’ it since I was a kid. Figured I’d get the degree to make him proud.” 

You peeked up at him through your lashes, lips curving—“That’s good," you offered, “Real good."

Eren didn’t smile back. He just watched you, eyes tracing the bow of your lips, the flutter of your pulse at your throat. The weight of his attention was suffocating—intoxicating. It made you feel seen in a way that left your skin too tight, your breath too shallow.  

“What about you?" he asked.  

"Consulting. After my master’s." 

A slow nod, “Smart."

That was it. No empty praise, no fake enthusiasm. Just that one word wrapped in that voice—dark and rich as Louisiana mud. And somehow, that was the best response you could’ve expected. 

He listened when you spoke. Not the way most people did—half distracted, already forming their next thought. No, Eren listened like he was committing every syllable to memory. Like your words mattered.  

So, he kept sitting next to you every class. Then he started walking you to your car under the sticky southern sun, his shadow swallowing yours whole. Next thing you knew, his rough hands were sliding into your hair, mouth hot on yours, his voice growling “All fuckin’ mines" against your skin like a vow.  

And it was a vow, because yeah—you married him. Of course you did.

Falling in love with Eren was an easy three years. It was the way he built things—homes from the ground up, families from nothing, a life for you both with his own two hands. His construction business thrived under his command, stitching New Orleans back together one house at a time, healing the scars Katrina left behind decades later. And you? You were his consultant, his right hand, his wife. But Lord knows he never let you lift a finger without him hovering like a storm cloud.  

The day you painted over the “Land Purchased" sign, the Louisiana sun bronzed your skin, your pale gold marquise cut diamond flashing like firelight against your finger. Your hair—a wild spill of cinnamon, copper, and black Balayage curls—tumbled past your shoulders, sticking to the sweat on your neck. A white tank top clung to every curve, the fabric stretched taut over heavy tits that sat high and full like some impossible dream. Your shorts, dusted with paint splatters, barely contained the sinful swell of your hips, the tremble of your ass with every step.  

Eren emerged from the half finished farmhouse, shirtless, his olive skin glistening under the sun. His tattoos flexed as he wiped sweat from his brow, those green eyes locking onto you like you were the only thing worth seeing.  

“You love it?"

You giggled, soft and sweet with a nod. That slow, knowing nod—the one that had him crossing the yard in three strides, his large hands finding your waist. A squeak left your lips as he hoisted you up, your legs locking around his hips like they were made to hold him. 

“Let me hear you,” he rasped, his breath hot against your mouth.  

“I love it,” you whimpered, dizzy with the feel of him.

And then? His mouth crashed into yours, deep and claiming like he was sealing the promise of this home, this life, this love—all built by him, for you.

Everything was perfect. Your wedding day draped New Orleans in gold—the kind of afternoon where the sunlight dripped like honey, where the air smelled of jasmine and the distant hum of a brass band. Eren stood at the altar, a vision in his tailored suit, his dark hair pulled back to show off that sharp jaw, those eyes—endless, fixed on you like you were the only thing that mattered. You floated toward him in a dress that hugged every sinful curve, lace whispering over wide hips, the sweetheart neckline cradling your heavy tits like an offering.  

And then?  

He walked in at the reception. 

“Ain’t mean to be late, cherè.” 

Oh, he kissed your hand too. 

“Traffic from Baton Rouge was a bitch.” 

Onyankopon. 

Eren’s best man. His business partner. And good Lord, was he nothing like you expected.  

Dark as rich mahogany, skin gleaming under the fairy lights, he was a mountain of muscle wrapped in a suit that barely contained him. Tattoos snaked up his neck, curling behind his ear where a small NOLA in bold script marked his temple. His cornrows were immaculate, tight against his scalp, leading down to a beard so sharp it could cut glass. But his hands—  

“Big," you blurted, champagne tipsy, swaying in your heels.  

Onyankopon paused mid step, those heavy lidded eyes sliding to yours. A slow, dangerous smirk curled his lips as he took your offered hand, his grip swallowing yours whole. 

“Yeah?" he rumbled, “Yo’ ass got tiny ones."

Heat flooded you—sobering, dizzying. Eren’s arm slid around your waist, his chuckle nowhere near amused against your ear. 

“Behave.” 

From that day on?  

You might’ve been fucked.

No, you told yourself it was nothing.  

Just admiration. That’s all.  

Onyankopon was your husband’s best friend, his business partner—of course you’d notice the way his muscles strained against his wifebeater when he hauled lumber, or the way his deep Creole drawl curled around words like “cherè” when he handed you coffee on sleepy mornings at the job site.  

It was simple stuff, really. He would lean over your shoulder to check a blueprint, his cologne—something dark and spicy—filling your lungs, his tattooed forearm brushing your bare skin. And suddenly your throat would go dry, your fingers fumbling over the keyboard like you’d forgotten how to type.  

So yeah, you lied.  

Because it wasn’t just admiration.  

It was the way your pulse skittered when he looked at you, like he knew the effect he had. The way your skin burned when his fingers—big, rough, capable—lingered a second too long handing you paperwork. The way you caught yourself staring at the flex of his back under his shirt when he bent to inspect a foundation, the way your thighs pressed together when he laughed, deep and rasping, at something Eren said.  

You were careful. So careful.  

You made sure never to be alone with him—linger too long in the office, stand too close in the supply closet. You kept your voice steady when you spoke to him, your eyes politely averted, your body angled away.  

You were married for god sake, what was wrong with you? 

To a man who worshipped you, who built you a home with his hands, who knew you better than you knew yourself.  You’d never do anything to jeopardize that.

…But looking wasn’t bad, right? 

Right. 

Well—that was all until your husband caught you, anyway.

So here you were now. Keys clacked under your French tips as you leaned over the laptop, sunlight filtering through the half renovated lace curtains of a shotgun home. Behind you, the rhythmic thud of hammers and the occasional sharp ting of metal hitting metal filled the air—Eren and Onyankopon moving in that seamless, wordless rhythm they’d developed over years of working side by side.  

Eren’s music blared from the Bluetooth speaker—One Step Closer, Linkin Park. While Ony’s music, Pick Your Poison, Rob49 occasionally overtook it when he cranked his phone volume up just to piss Eren off. It was chaos. It was them.

Then—the familiar click of Eren’s Zippo.  

“Fais pas ça dans la maison du client, chéri," Please don’t smoke in the clients house, love—you murmured, Creole lacing your words like honey—sweet, but firm.  

Eren exhaled sharply through his nose, already halfway to the door.

“J’sors," I’m going out, was a term he often grunted, the cigarette dangling between his lips. Then, as an afterthought—“Wife said she wants white oak now, not maple."

You could feel Onyankopon’s irritation immediately. 

“The fuck she mean now?” 

You didn’t have to look up to know his jaw was clenched, that vein in his temple probably throbbing—“I was ‘bout to start the goddamn window." 

Eren just shrugged, flicking ash onto the porch steps—“Husband’s payin’ double." 

“Ain’t about the money—“ 

“Then quit bitchin’." 

A cloud of smoke hit Onyankopon square in the face.  

“Chill out, nigga," he warned, voice dropping into something lethal.  

“Ain’t nobody bitchin’." 

You finally lifted your head, watching the two of them—polar opposites, brothers in arms, the kind of friendship that thrived on friction. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard as Eren’s gaze flicked toward you from across the room—a cocky half wink, the one that usually melted you into putty. This time, you just rolled your eyes.

“And where does she think we’re gonna find white oak for countertops at six in the afternoon?" you asked.

Eren exhaled another plume of smoke, shifting his weight against the doorframe. 

“Not just countertops," he corrected, gruff—“Everythin’. Counters to white granite, cabinets to off white." 

A heavy thud echoed through the room.  

Onyankopon had just dropped whatever tool he’d been holding. He was now leaning back against the exposed studs of the wall, arms crossed, biceps straining against the rolled up sleeves of his forest green shirt. 

“Might as well tell her to sign up for a whole new renovation," he rumbled, deep voice edged with irritation.  

Eren reminded, "You’re the only one complainin’." 

“Ain’t about complainin’. It’s about sense." 

Ony’s jaw ticked, “There’s three more days in the contract. This ain’t some HGTV bullshit where we magically got time and money to burn." 

Eren flicked ash off his cigarette, “It’s about client satisfaction." 

Silence stretched for a beat—then Ony’s gaze slid to you. 

“What ‘you think?" 

You pressed your lips together, suddenly the unwilling mediator. You weren’t a fan of getting between their disputes—mostly because you knew them both too well. Knew Eren’s stubbornness, Ony’s razor sharp pragmatism. A soft sigh escaped you as you tucked a wild cinnamon curl behind your ear, fingers lingering at the shell of it.  

“…Ony’s right, baby," you admitted, “It’s a little late for changes when we’re halfway done with the kitchen." 

Eren’s jaw tightened—just a fraction, but you saw it. The flex of muscle, the way his fingers twitched around the cigarette.  

Then, after a beat—“I’m hearin’ you.” 

His tone was clipped as he turned back to Ony, “You got suggestions?"

“Finish the cabinet setup, make the kitchen white. If she ain’t happy after?", A slow shrug, “She can sign another contract."

Eren took a long drag, exhaling through his nose. 

“Alright.”

Your fingers tapped lightly against the paperwork in front of you, "Think you can grab the maple from Home Depot?” 

Eren took one last drag of his cigarette before flicking it out the door, the ember sparking against the gravel. 

“I’ll head there now," he rumbled, already rolling his sleeves higher up his tattooed forearms.  

Onyankopon’s deep voice cut in from across the room, "You goin’ by yo’self?" 

“Why? My other wife wanna kiss n’ make up before I leave?" 

Ony glared, “I ain’t kissin’ yo’ overgrown ass.” 

“‘Soundin’ like a damn kid," Eren muttered, grabbing his keys from the makeshift hook by the door.  

“Cause I’m arguin’ wit’ one.”

You sighed dramatically, swiveling in your chair just enough to shoot them both a pleading look—“’Rennn, can you please come show me some love before y’all start arguing again?"

“You want some love, huh?” 

Your giggle was soft as his fingers tangled in your curls, tilting your head back just enough for him to lean down and rub his nose against yours—his version of affection, sweet and possessive all at once. 

“Don’t be long, hm?" you whispered, brushing your lips against the tip of his nose as he lowly grunted, “Mhm.”

“You love me?" 

Eren sucked his teeth, “Y’know I fuckin’ do," he rasped, before his mouth crashed into yours—hard, demanding, his. The kind of kiss that made your toes curl in your sandals, all rough lips and barely restrained hunger.  

Just as you melted into it, Onyankopon’s voice cut through the moment like a bucket of cold water.  

“Aight, aight—remember Home Depot ‘bout to close?"

Eren dragged his thumb across your bottom lip before pulling away, “Let me kiss on my damn wife," pressing one last rough kiss to your forehead. 

“Have those consultations ready for me when I get back. Be good.” 

Then, he turned to Onyankopon. 

“You need some shit from the store, hubby?” 

Ony didn’t even look up from his sketches, just leveled Eren with a glare that could split concrete. 

“Just gon’ head ‘fore I beat yo’ ass, Yeager.” 

And with that, the door closed. 

The thing is, you didn’t think Eren would be gone for two hours. 

The sun was bleeding into the horizon, casting the half renovated shotgun house in golden orange hues. You’d texted Eren three times—no answer. Called twice—straight to voicemail. Your knee bounced under the desk, fingers drumming against the wood as your eyes flicked toward Onyankopon.  

He was sprawled on the sofa, his massive frame dominating the space, one boot propped on the coffee table as he sketched out future project blueprints. The muscles in his forearm flexed with every stroke of the pencil, the ink of his tattoos shifting under the dimming light.  

“…Eren text you?" 

Ony didn’t glance up, “Nah, mama. Ain’t answer." 

Your lips pressed into a thin line.  

That’s when he finally looked at you—really looked—his dark eyes scanning your face before he sighed, deep and slow. 

“Nigga ain’t dead, girl," he drawled, “‘Prolly’ all over NOLA tryna’ find the perfect maple oak like he custom buildin’ Versailles."

A small, reluctant smile tugged at your lips.

 “…He’s a bit overzealous at times.” 

Onyankopon smirked—that smirk, the one that made your stomach twist, “You good, though?" 

“Mhm." 

“You sure?" 

“Fine." 

“Need anythin’?" 

“No."

Every question was another lick of fire under your skin. Because why did he have to be like this? Why did he have to notice?

You swallowed hard, forcing your attention back to the laptop. 

“I just wanna finish these consultations." 

“Ain’t gotta overwork yo’self," Ony murmured, that Creole lilt making the words too smooth, too close—“Eren gon’ be out for another minute." 

Your thoughts swarmed, loud and suffocating—until his voice cut through again, sharper this time.  

“You good?" 

You blinked, “Hm?" 

His eyes dropped just for a fraction of a second, before flicking back up.

“You sweatin’."

You looked down.  

Your own forest green baby tee clinging to the swell of your heavy tits was now damp with sweat. Your nipples, hard and sensitive, were painfully visible through the thin fabric.  

Oh. 

An awkward giggle bubbled out of you as you crossed your arms, “It’s just...really hot."  

Onyankopon’s gaze didn’t waver.  

“Yeah," he said, low.

“It is."

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard as Onyankopon’s voice cut through the thick silence.  

“Gon’ finish that kitchen window now,” he announced, “You need me?” 

Your brain short circuited.

Huh?

“Hm?” 

“I said, let me know if you need sum’, aight?”

You nodded, forcing a smile that probably looked more like a grimace.

“Okay.”

Get it together. 

Another twenty minutes. 

Your traitorous eyes flicked up from the screen—just once, just glancing, then—  

Oh. 

Oh, no. 

Onyankopon’s hands. Calloused, rough, knuckles scarred from years of labor—veins thick and pronounced wrapped around the glass pane of the window, biceps flexing under the strain. His stance was wide, thighs like tree trunks braced beneath him, the muscles in his back shifting under sweat slicked skin like some kind of damn art exhibit. 

And then—  

Hell. Actual hell.  

His fingers reached at the nape of his neck as he tugged forward to pull his shirt off in one smooth motion, tucking it into the loop of his belt. Brown skin glistened under the fading sun, sweat rolling down the deep ridges of his abs, all the way to the broad expanse of his chest. He was thick and corded, Adam’s apple bobbing as he grunted, hefting the window into place like it weighed nothing.  

You were dizzy.  

How easy would it be for him to pick you up like that?  

To pin you. To fu—

The door swung open. 

You damn near leaped out of your skin, scrambling upright in your chair as you snatched a pen like you’d been vigorously taking notes this whole time. You scribbled absolute gibberish at the bottom of some poor client’s consultation form, clearing your throat so loud it was borderline theatrical.  

“Baby, you alright?" Eren’s voice was rough, “You need some water?" 

You shook your head quickly, not realizing just how flushed your face was until you felt the heat crawling up your neck. Desperate to ground yourself, you reached for him, palms sliding up his tattooed arms to tug him down closer.  

“It’s Louisiana," you deflected. 

“What took you so long?" 

“‘Damn near had to travel across the entire goddamn state to find the maple,” he grumbled, but his hands were already sliding down, calloused fingers finding the dip of your waist—that spot, the one that made you squirm every time.  A soft noise escaped you, lips parting in a small pout as your back arched instinctively under his touch.  

“Missed you," you whispered against his jaw, your mouth barely grazing his.  

“Yeah?" 

You nodded, but something flickered across your face—something off.   

Your husband was a lot of things, but oblivious wasn't one of them.  

“Eyes,” he murmured, "Need ‘em on me." 

You swallowed hard, forcing a small smile as your hands slid up to rub at his broad shoulders—“M’just tired," you lied, the words slipping out too easily.  

“That’s it?" 

“Mhm." 

Eren studied you for another long second—without another word he dipped his head, his lips trailing hot, possessive kisses along your jaw, all the way down to the column of your throat.  

“Missed you too," he growled against your skin, the scrape of his teeth making your fingers tangle in his hair, head tipping back to give him better access.  

But your eyes—unfortunately for you—might’ve flicked to Onyankopon just one more time. 

Later that night, dim glows of your vanity lights cast a honeyed halo around your reflection as you pressed your fingertips into your cheeks, tracing the warmth lingering there. Your face was still flushed—too flushed, the heat creeping from your temples down to your collarbones like a slow burning fever. 

You dragged your gaze over your own features in the mirror. Your full, heart shaped lips, naturally dark like they’d been dipped in mahogany, the sultry slope of your almond eyes lined with those impossibly long, fox like lashes. Even on your softest days, your face carried something sinful—something that made your husband’s grip tighten when other men looked too long. The oversized DEFTONES tee you’d thrown on swallowed your curves, but it couldn’t hide the stubborn peaks of your nipples, still stiff beneath the fabric.  

God, were you ovulating or something? 

The steady drum of the shower cut through your thoughts—Eren was in there, steam fogging the glass, water sluicing down the hard planes of his body. You bit your lip, willing the image to overwrite the one still scorched behind your eyelids; Onyankopon’s thick neck glistening with sweat, his hands flexing around that window frame like it was weightless. 

“Meine schöne Frau.” 

Pretty girl.

Eren’s voice—rough, sweetened by the German endearment—snapped you back. The bathroom door creaked open, a wave of steam rolling out as he stepped into the bedroom, his massive frame barely contained by the towel slung low on his hips. Water droplets clung to the ridges of his abs, the kind of carved definition that looked like he’d been sculpted by some vengeful god. And there, thick and heavy against the damp fabric—the outline of him made your mouth water.  

He dragged a second towel over his dark hair, slicking it back as his eyes met yours in the mirror.  

“You finish up those emails earlier?” 

Your fingers froze mid reach for the vanity drawer. Shit. 

“No,” you admitted, rifling through the contents with sudden urgency—“I’ll get it done before bed.” 

Eren stilled. You could feel his gaze sharpening even before he spoke.  

“What happened?” 

“Got distracted with some calls.”

A beat of silence. 

“You seem distracted now,” His tone was deceptively light, but his eyes weren’t. 

“Can’t even look at me straight.”

“Maybe ‘cause you’re so handsome, hm?” 

Eren huffed. 

A sound that wasn’t quite a laugh, more like the click of a puzzle piece snapping into place. His stare burned into the side of your face, heavy enough that your skin prickled. You gave him a wobbly smile, turning back to the drawer like your bonnet was the most fascinating thing in the world.  

“Let me ask you somethin’.” 

Your pulse kicked into a rabbit's quick rhythm the second those words left Eren’s mouth.  

"Onyankopon." 

A beat.  

“You like him?" 

Your fingers stilled against the vanity, brows lifting as you blinked at him—once, twice—before forcing out a nervous laugh. 

“He’s your best friend, why wouldn’t I like him?" 

He dragged the towel over his hands. Slowly. 

“That’s not what I’m askin’.”

“Then what are you asking?"

“Truth," he said simply, green eyes pinning you in place—“So I’ll ask again. You like him?"

“I don’t—" 

The second those words slipped out, his stare cut through you, silencing the lie before it could fully form.  

You swallowed hard, shifting tactics.  

“…That’s a weird question to ask, Eren." 

“Nah,” he countered, tossing the towel aside—“It ain’t."

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you studied his face—searching for anger, jealousy, something. But his expression was unreadable, carved from stone. And maybe that’s why the truth tumbled out before you could stop it.  

“... I do." 

You then rushed to add, “But it’s not like that. It’s just—a fantasy, you know? I’d never act on it."

Your voice wavered, “You know that, right?"

Silence.  

“Your fantasy," he said finally, voice rough. 

“Talk me through it."

“What?" 

“Actin’ like you don’t understand isn’t gonna change my question.” 

Your face burned, toes curling against the plush rug. 

“It’s silly." 

“You think I’m mad at you?" 

“Are you?"

“I’m not. ‘Shit ain’t silly if you’re blushin’ like this."

He then repeats, “Tell me.” 

You swallowed, “You’re sure you’re not—?"

“Baby," he cut in, impatient, “C’mon." 

A shaky exhale. 

“It’s seeing him do masculine things. How sweet he is. It’s…a turn on. But—" You hesitated, voice dropping to a whisper, “The idea of both of you together is…more.”  

“You think about him fuckin’ you?" 

“‘Ren—!" 

“You think ’bout him fuckin’ you while I watch?" 

You shrieked, rushing over to slap a hand over his mouth. 

“Eren, Jesus—no! I just—both of you—that’s all!" 

Panic sent you scrambling into his chest, clinging to him even as he stood unmoving, his lack of reaction only making you whimper harder. 

“It’s stupid, I know. I’d never—I’d never—" 

“That’s somethin’ you want?" His voice was dangerously calm, “Me an’ him? You wanna take that?"

You squeaked, burying your face in his chest with a mortified groan, “Baby! Stop it!” 

A low chuckle rumbled through him as he finally moved, his hands finding your hips, dragging you flush against him.  

“Schüchterne Frau," he murmured against your ear, rough and warm.  

Shy woman.

Eren's massive hands then circled your waist, lifting you like you weighed nothing. The world tilted as he deposited you onto the bed, his towering frame caging you in like some predator playfully trapping his prey. e.  

“You're insane,” you exhaled, fingers twisting around his arms—“How aren't you mad? Why aren't you mad?" 

“Nothin’ to be mad about."

“I’ve been feeling crazy all day.” 

“I’m knowin’,” he mused, “Shit was kinda cute to see.” 

You flicked his nose. Hard.  

“Ouch.”

Before you could argue more, his straight teeth caught the hem of your oversized tee, dragging it up with a slow, deliberate pull. The fabric slipped past your waist, your ribs, and then—there—your swollen, heavy tits spilled free, nipples already pebbled and aching.  

A rough groan escaped him as his mouth descended, sucking one peaked bud between his lips with a greedy, wet drag. You yelped, slapping his bicep as pleasure shot straight to your core.  

He pulled off with a filthy pop, gaze heavy lidded. 

“You done with your lil’ tantrum?”  

You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt.

“My husband just made me admit I fantasize about a threesome with his best friend. I’m validated in my tantrum.”  

His lips trailed hot, open mouthed kisses up your sternum, between your breasts, along the column of your throat—each one leaving fire in its wake. 

“Ain’t nobody said all that, huh?”  

You shuddered, “Can we stop talking about this? Can you just say I’m pretty and that you love me?”  

“You’re the prettiest thing in the fuckin’ South.”

When you huffed unsatisfactorily, he then cradled your face, forcing your gaze to meet his. His thumb brushed your cheekbone, his voice dropping to that possessive growl that made your toes curl.  

“I love you so fuckin’ much, woman. You’re mine." 

You puckered your lips in demand—and Eren obliged, peppering them with teasing, playful kisses until you sighed, melting under him.  

“Mkay," you relented, “All is forgiven." 

Then, with mischief sparking in your eyes, you poked his dimple and wiggled your brows.

“Wanna get freaky?" 

“Yeah," he hummed, "Let me just call Onyankopon first—" 

You flicked his nose again.

The next few days had been nothing short of perfect—your off days filled with the kind of lazy, indulgent bliss that made your heart swell. Sleeping in tangled limbs, slow mornings spent cuddling under thick blankets while rain pattered against the windows. You watched Eren move through the house like a restless storm, fixing things he’d been too busy to touch for months—tightening cabinet handles, oiling hinges, his muscles flexing under the thin fabric of his shirts as he worked.  

But the real highlight came when Eren closed a high paying deal he’d been chasing for months. You’d screamed, silent but full bodied, jumping up and down on the bed like an overexcited kid while Eren gripped your ankle to steady you, trying—and failing—to hide his grin behind a gruff, "Relax." 

Overall? It’d been a damn good weekend.  

…Here’s when shit got weird. 

Sunday football was a sacred ritual between Eren and Onyankopon—one you usually tagged along for out of sheer love. The routine was always the same ; morning games, the gym, then a home cooked meal—something indulgent, now a fancy spread to celebrate the big contract.  

But today?  

Today was…different.  

You padded downstairs in your Def Leppard tee, voice still thick with lingering drowsiness as you murmured, “Bon matin, mes gros bêtes,” good morning, my big beasts.

They were already planted on the couch, the glow of the TV casting shadows over their faces. Normally, they’d be shouting at the screen, arguing over plays, or tossing crude jabs at each other between sips of beer. But today? Silence. Heavy, charged, unsettling silence.  

They returned the greeting—Eren with a low “Mornin’, baby,” Ony with a slow, “Sleep good?”

 But their voices didn’t match the tension in the air. It was thick, heady, pressing against your skin like a touch you couldn’t shake.  

Eren broke the silence first.  

"Ony’s stayin’ for dinner."  

Onyankopon’s dark eyes followed the words, followed you—“If that’s aight with you.” 

The way he said it wasn’t really a question.  

You smiled softly, "Bien sûr, of course it’s okay." 

You tilted your head, “You guys okay with what I’m making?" 

“I’ll eat anything you put on a nigga tongue, girl.” 

Your pulse stuttered, your mouth suddenly dry, and you could only nod stiffly before turning toward the kitchen, face burning. Maybe you were reading too much into it. Maybe you were losing it. 

But if that wasn’t weird?  

This was.  

By noon, the energy shifted again—this time, louder, looser. Beer bottles clinked as Eren and Onyankopon tore into each other over the Saints vs. Cowboys game, their voices rough with playful aggression.  

“The hell you mean ’he’s washed’? Brees could out throw Prescott in his goddamn sleep!”

“Man, shut yo’ delusional ass up—Prescott got legs and an arm, yo’ nigga was throwing ducks by ‘18.”

You curled into Eren’s side, half listening, half reading a book you’d pulled from the shelf—until the warmth of his body and the steady rise and fall of his chest lulled you into a drowsy haze.  

And then?

Touch. 

Onyankopon’s rough fingers grazed your hip—just once, featherlight, barely there. A whisper of contact that could’ve been an accident. Eren’s hand then clamped down on your ass, pulling you deeper into him…closer to Onyankopon’s touch.  

You froze.  

“That’s a bullshit ass call and you know it!” Eren barked, his grip on you tightening as he leaned forward, jostling you. 

“Fuck outta’ here!” 

Their voices blurred into white noise. Your heart pounded so hard you swore they could hear it, your skin burning where both their hands lingered—Eren’s possessive kneading, Onyankopon’s fingers tracing slow circles near the hem of your shirt.  

You squeezed your eyes shut, playing asleep, but your body betrayed you—arching subtly into Eren’s chest while your thigh brushed Onyankopon’s. The scents of them—Eren’s cedar and leather musk, Onyankopon’s deep spice—wrapped around you like a fog, dizzying.  

Eren shifted again, his arm sliding behind you, guiding you until your ass was right there, nearly in Onyankopon’s lap.  

You inhaled shakily. 

The gym was supposed to be your sanctuary—iron clanging, weights thudding, the sharp scent of sweat and cleaning solution filling your lungs as you worked off the restless energy coiling in your stomach. But today?  

Today, nothing felt right. 

You stood behind both men, watching them switch off reps with the kind of effortless, predatory strength that made your mouth go dry. Eren’s tattoos flexed under the harsh overhead lights as he powered through a set of deadlifts, his low grunts sending an embarrassing shiver down your spine. Onyankopon’s back muscles rippled with every controlled pull on the cable machine, his deep voice growling something about “Weak ass form,” at Eren between breaths.  

Tugging your sweat damp curls into a messy clip, you tried—tried—to focus on your own set, but the air between the three of you felt charged, thick with something you couldn’t name.  

“Arch yo’ back more, lil’ mama,"  he murmured, his voice rough and too close, too warm against the shell of your ear. His hands slid down to your hips, adjusting your stance with a firm grip that sent heat spiraling straight to your core.

“There you go—good fuckin’ girl." 

You nearly stumbled.  

Eren—you husband—was right there, watching with those dark unreadable eyes, Onyankopon’s fingers lingering just a second too long.  

SMACK!

Eren’s palm connected with your ass, the sharp sting making you yelp as the flesh jiggled under his touch. 

“Schau nicht so verloren,” he growled—don’t look so lost—before giving you another rough tap, fingers flexing possessively.  

What the fuck was happening?

Everything had led into the night. The warm glow of the kitchen lights cast a soft halo around you as you moved gracefully between the stove and the counter, the rich aromas of garlic, thyme, and smoked paprika swirling through the air. The wine had done its job—easing the tension coiled in your shoulders, smoothing the edges of your nerves until you hummed along to the sultry jazz playing low in the background.  

A buttery pale yellow ruched set hugged your curves like a lover’s hands—the fitted capris accentuating the flare of your hips, the halter top cinching your waist just right, delicate white lace bow at the nape of your neck teasing against skin. Your heavy tits pressed together, nipples taut against the thin fabric, the pale gold jewelry at your wrists and ears catching the light with every movement. Delicate gold heels clicked softly against the hardwood as you swayed slightly, seasoning the pot before you with practiced hands.  

Then—that feeling.  

The weight of eyes on you through the patio door. 

Eren leaned back in his chair, white wifebeater stretched tight across his broad chest, open flannel shirt framing his thick arms. The silver chain around his neck glinted as he tilted his head back, exhaling a slow, deliberate stream of smoke from between those deep, full pink lips. His dark hair was tied back in that low bun hidden under a backwards cap, loose tendrils framing his sharp jaw as he murmured something to Onyankopon. 

And Onyankopon—god—his cornrows were fresh, edges crisp, the deep brown of his skin glowing under the dim patio lights. His beard was neatly trimmed, the scent of that new shea butter you’d noticed earlier clinging to him. His laugh, deep and rich, was muted through the glass, but you knew that sound—knew the way it rumbled through his chest.  

Their gazes locked onto you with an intensity that made your fingers tighten around the wooden spoon. Eren’s hand rubbed absently at his jaw. Onyankopon lifted his chin slightly, a slow, knowing smirk playing at the corner of his mouth as he gave you a lazy, two fingered wave.  

Out of pure nerves, you lifted your hand in a sweet, awkward little wave back, your dimple popping as you forced a smile. 

The moment they stepped back inside, the air in the kitchen thickened. You felt it before you even turned around, the weight of their presence pressing against your skin like a physical touch.  

Eren loomed behind you first, his broad frame blocking the light from the hallway as he peered down at you with those damned eyes of his. His gaze trailed over the gold crucifix hugging your ankle, his nostrils flaring slightly before he rumbled, low and rough, “Missed you.”

Before you could respond, Onyankopon’s deep voice cut in from the doorway. 

“You lookin’ real pretty, girl.”

Eren stepped closer, his large hand tangling in your loose curls, tugging—like a child demanding attention. You humored him, turning to press a sweet, absentminded kiss to his cheek before gently pulling away, your voice a soft murmur.

“Just wanted to look pretty for you guys tonight—It’s a celebration, right?"

But Eren wasn’t having it. His lips found your jaw instead, rough and insistent, his tongue flicking against your skin in a tease. You let him, your hand coming up to rub at his shoulder in a weak attempt to ground him—or maybe yourself. 

“You guys hungry?" you managed, voice barely steady.  

“Starvin’," Eren growled against your throat before claiming your mouth in a deep, filthy kiss. His tongue slid past your lips without hesitation, your body responding before your brain could catch up.  

Onyankopon watches, “You always lookin’ good, mama. You know that?" 

Overstimulation prickled under your skin. Your laugh came out awkward, breathless as you cupped Eren’s jaw to gently break the kiss, holding him in place. 

“Thank you, Ony," you hummed, your exhale shaky as you forced yourself to focus—“Dinner’s almost ready, okay?" 

Eren nuzzled into the vanilla scented crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse point as he finalized, “Don’t be long." 

Then—SMACK—his palm connected with your ass once more, the sharp sting making you jolt, “Can’t keep my fuckin’ mouth off you," he grunted, like it was your fault.  

Onyankopon’s voice was really the final blow, smooth as whiskey. 

“Yeah. We waitin’ on you." 

We waitin’ on you. 

You tried to rationalize it all—told yourself both men were just a little high, that’s why the energy between you had shifted so drastically. That’s why Eren had been so possessive, why Onyankopon’s compliments felt heavier than usual.  

Eren had disappeared upstairs to find another lighter, leaving you alone in the kitchen with Onyankopon while you put the final touches on dinner. The rich scent of beef stew filled the air, the buttery cornbread golden and steaming in its cast iron skillet. You focused on plating everything just right—garnishing each dish with a sprinkle of fresh parsley, making sure each portion was even.  

The silence stretched, but this time, you refused to let it be awkward. You glanced over at Onyankopon—seated at the table, his massive frame relaxed yet imposing, forearms corded with muscle as he crossed them over his black wifebeater.  

“How’d you spend your days off, Ony?” you asked, blowing a stray curl from your face absentmindedly.  

His dark eyes tracked the movement before he answered evenly, “Shit was aight. Mostly caught up on sleep.”

A pause, “You?”

You smiled, stirring the stew gently.

“Just mushy couple stuff. Slept in, cooked, let Eren drag me around like a backpack.”  

Onyankopon huffed a laugh at that, shaking his head slightly.  

“So, how do you feel about the new contract?” 

“Blessed,” he admitted, leaning back in his chair—“Yo’ husband been on my ass ‘bout expanding outside Louisiana. Nigga be givin’ me a hard time when it come to this job.”

You shake your head, “It’s not like that. Eren’s just particular, like his father was.”  

“I’m knowin’.” 

Onyankopon asks, “How you put up with him?”

Your smile softened, “The same way you do. I love him. Regardless.” 

He chuckled lowly at that, the sound vibrating through the space between you. 

“Aight. I feel that.” 

And just like that, the conversation lulled into comfortable silence again.  

A few minutes passed, the quiet only broken by the clinking of dishes as you arranged the last of the food.  

Then—  

“Ony?”

The words hovered on your tongue, carefully weighed before you finally spoke.  

“…I just wanna thank you for coming back home and partnering with Eren."

Your voice was soft, “After his father’s passing—he needed you, you know?" 

Onyankopon’s face shifted—solemn, the usual playful edge in his eyes dimming. His lips pressed together before he answered, “A nigga like me even more grateful to have somebody like him in my corner. Nothin’ to thank me for." 

You turned back to the cutting board, but his next question made your hands still.  

“What about you? You happy to have me around?"  

“Of course.”

“Ion’ make you feel a type of way?" 

“No?” 

His brow arched. Like he didn’t believe you.  

You swallowed, “You’ve been sweet to me since the beginning." 

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest as he leaned back in his chair, manspreading—thick thighs stretching the fabric of his cargos, abdomen flexing beneath the black wifebeater.  

“Sweet, huh? You think I’m sweet?" 

Heat pricked at the back of your neck, but you nodded anyway. 

“I do." 

“Nothin’ else?" 

Your fingers curled tighter around the knife as you shook your head, turning back to slice the last piece of cornbread.  

Then—  

“I see how you be lookin’ at me." 

The blade slipped.  

A sharp gasp tore from your lips as steel bit into skin, blood welling instantly along your fingertip. You dropped the knife with a clatter, clutching your injured hand as your face twisted in discomfort.  

Onyankopon was on you in seconds.  

His monstrous height dwarfed you, his large hands swallowing yours as he assessed the wound—rough fingers cradling your delicate palm with surprising gentleness.  

"I—I wasn’t paying attention—“

Oh god.

Oh god.

He was sucking your finger. 

Your lips parted as the warmth of his tongue swept over the cut, slow. A shiver wracked your body—every nerve ending alight—as his lips sucked gently, coaxing the sting away.  

When he pulled back, his voice was a rough rasp against your skin.  

“You got a taste on you, girl." 

He didn’t let go. Just held you there, his grip firm, eyes burning into yours as he murmured, “You gotta be more careful.” 

You could’ve died right there.  

 Eren’s heavy footsteps descended the stairs, walking into Onyankopon still holding your hand—his gaze flickered between you both, lingering for just a second before he simply asked, “What happened?" 

"She cut herself.”

Eren—your fucking husband—barely reacted. 

Just grunted, “Gotta watch them hands, baby.”

That’s when it clicked.

You weren’t crazy.  

Not now. Not this morning. Not days ago.  

This hadn’t been coincidences. This was a hunt. 

Dinner had been a blur—conversations ebbing and flowing around you like distant radio static, your thoughts drowning beneath the weight of their presence. You weren’t delusional anymore, weren’t in denial.  

You were just…waiting. 

“Yo’—remember when we went to Velvet & Vixen on Bourbon? Niggas was weird.”

Eren’s low chuckle vibrated through the table, fingers idly tracing the rim of his whiskey glass.

“That one guy told me he wanted to be a dog,” he smirked, “‘Wore a collar under his clothes at work.”

You tapped your wine glass absently as they laughed, the sound thick, indulgent—like they were savoring something deeper than the joke.  

Then, Eren’s eyes slid to you.  

“Last time we went there together was a couple years ago, baby?”

You blinked, the memory surfacing—dim neon, crowded aisles, the heat of his hand on your lower back. 

“Yeah,” you giggled, swirling your drink, “We did.” 

Eren’s grin looked to Onyankopon. 

“She had me in there for hours.” 

“No I did not!” 

Onyankopon mused, “For what? Applyin’ for the job or sum’?” 

You toyed with your fork, a flush creeping up your neck. 

“We went in there for a—”

You bit your lip, laughing nervously. 

“It’s a little TMI.” 

“C’mon, girl. I ain’t gon’ run off.”

You looked between them as you exhaled, “…Okay. I went in for a d—a dildo.” 

You hesitated, “But the ones they had were too big for me. All over six inches.” 

Silence.  

The kind that hummed, electric.  

You saw it—the way Eren’s pupils swallowed green, the way Onyankopon’s jaw clicked, his knuckles whitening around his glass.  

Then? 

Onyankopon laughed.

A deep, rolling sound that sent a full body chill straight down your spine. Your breath hitched as you looked at him, really looked—the same way you had the first time you met him.

Fear.

Intimidation. 

…Arousal.

And when he said this?

“She ain’t gon’ be able to fit me.”  

Your body froze. 

Eren’s voice cut through, low and possessive, “Nah. She be takin’ every inch of me real good now.” 

Were you going into shock? You had to be. 

“Meine hübsche Frau. So verdammt schüchtern.” 

My pretty wife. So fuckin’ shy.

Your skin burned—like you’d been doused in gasoline, like a single spark would ignite you.  

Onyankopon leaned forward, “What’s wrong, mama?”

His voice dropped to a graveled rumble—“Youn’ want me no more?” 

Your lips parted—pouting, pleading, “Ren—” 

“Nuh uh,” Eren tsked, tilting his head. 

“None of that poutin’ shit. Use your words.” 

“C’mon, girl. Lemme’ hear that pretty ass fuckin’ voice.” 

You’d never felt so cornered in your life—trapped between their heat, their hunger, the unspoken promise in their eyes.  

And from that point on?  

You were absolutely, positively, fucked.

So here you were now. The air was pure sex, the dim glow of lamplight casting shadows across your trembling body as you knelt between them—caught in the electric tension of their hunger.  

Your back arched like a bowstring, spine curving as you pressed your cheek into the sheets, curls framing your curves like molten fire. Your palms barely covered the stiff peaks of your nipples, but it didn’t matter—their eyes burned through you, stripping you bare.  

Eren stood at the foot of the bed, his cock heavy and hard, flushed a soft pink against his olive skin. Long, veined, demanding. Onyankopon stood beside him, thick thighs bracketing his hips—his own arousal a brutal contrast, wider, darker, bigger, the deep plum tip glistening as it bobbed inches from your ass.  

“Show us how pretty your shit is, baby."

Eren’s voice was rough velvet, scraping over your nerves. A command, not a request.  

A whimper caught in your throat as you obeyed—spreading your thighs, fingers parting your glistening folds with shaky reverence. Your pussy was already flushed, slick, begging, the plush folds gleaming under the low light.  

Onyankopon lets out a rough sound—something between a curse and praise—as his thick fingers grip the supple flesh of your thighs, kneading. SMACK! A sharp sting of his palm made you jerk, your folds fluttering around nothing.  

“Fuck," Eren exhaled, his knuckles whitening around the base of his cock as he watched your slick drip onto the sheets. He stepped closer, his grip bruising as he wrenched your legs apart further.  

"Look at that," he growled, slapping the thick head of his cock against your swollen clit.  

You jolted, a low whimper breaking free as your hips chased the fleeting pressure.  

“Which one you feelin’, huh?” 

“…’Ren," you trembled, voice breaking. 

“Feel you, baby.” 

"Just me," he snarled, grinding his tip against your desperate entrance—“Always mine. Ain’t she?" 

Onyankopon’s agreement was dark, “Yours entirely.” 

Your spine arched, a silent fight to swallow the second needy whimper threatening to spill from your lips. Cheek pressed into silk sheets, your lashes fluttered—half lidded, drunk on the weight of their stares.  

“C’mere,” Eren demanded, “Come show me some love.” 

Your favorite phrase. It meant either the sweetest affection—or this. His cock, thick and heavy against your lips, the musk of him flooding your senses as you nuzzled into his hip.  

Your lips parted the moment you turned—the broad head of his cock pushing past them, the salt of pre cum bursting on your tongue as you hollowed your cheeks.  

“Fuck,” His groan was ragged, hips jerking forward—“Watch them teeth." 

You mewled around him, the warning making your cunt pulse. His fingers twisted in your curls, yanking your head down until his tip hit the back of your throat. Tears pricked your lashes as you gagged—soft, wet—your nails biting into his thighs.  

“I know you’re excited, baby," Eren rasped, rolling his hips deeper—“Careful.” 

Onyankopon watched, his own dick palmed in a brutal grip, veins standing stark against brown skin. A string of saliva dripped from your swollen lips as you pulled back, lips circling your husband's shaft with a filthy schlick. 

“‘M sorry,” you whined, “‘Didn’t mean to hurt you, baby.” 

Eren’s chest rumbled—half growl, half muse—“‘Know you ain’t mean it."

His thumb swiped your jaw, smearing gloss and spit.  

“Tongue out." 

A dark command, “Show me how good my girl is."

You obeyed instantly—mouth slack, tongue lolling, pink and used beneath his cock. You took him deeper, throat fluttering as his tip breached it. The sounds were obscene—gagging, moaning, the slick slap of his pelvis against your chin.  

“She ain’t stoppin’ no time soon," Eren taunted, fingers tightening in your hair.  

“You doin’ a good job, girl."

Onyankopon’s voice was thick as he continued, “Goddamn.” 

“She’s doin’ a good job, huh?” Eren repeated, his free hand raking into your hair again, “You see that? My baby’s givin’ her all right now.”

“I’m watchin’,” Onyankopon replied, his neck flexing from how he held himself. His fingers wrapped tightly around the base of his length, “I see you real good. Pretty ass bitch.” 

Your face was a mess at this point. The makeup you had on earlier was smeared all across your mouth, your eyes still holding Onyankopons’ while Eren continued to move your head with his strong, large fingers. 

“She gettin’ better?" 

Onyankopon’s jaw flexed, “Yeah. Mouth good as hell—I’m tryna’ feel that shit."

His dick, monstrous in his grip, twitched. 

“You gon’ let me?"

Your mouth slows around Eren—tongue dragging one last, filthy stripe up his length before your eyes flicker to Onyankopon. To it. 

His dick is a monster—thick, veined, the deep plum head glistening, twitching just inches from your lips. Your throat flutters at the sight, a whimper catching in your chest. But it’s not just the size that has your pulse spiking.  

It’s the look in Onyankopon’s eyes.  

Like he’s already imagining you choking on him.  

Your tongue darts out, wetting your lips as you glance up at Eren—seeking permission, seeking reassurance.

“…Can I?”  

Eren exhales through his nose, jaw clenched, before giving a single, sharp nod.  

"Go ‘head." 

You don’t hesitate.  

Your lips part, tongue flattening against the underside of Onyankopon’s dick, tasting him—musky, salt-bitter, addicting. Your fingers dig into his quads, nails leaving half-moons in dark skin as you suck at his tip, moaning at the sheer fullness of him in your mouth.  

“Fuck—" 

Onyankopon’s voice is ruined, hips jerking forward. 

“There you go—that fuckin’ mouth." 

Eren watches the way your lips stretch, the way your cheeks hollow, the way you whimper around Onyankopon’s girth like it’s the best thing you’ve ever had.  

You’re sloppier with him. Needier. Drool slicks your chin as you bob, tongue swirling around his shaft, sucking like you’re starved. 

“Keep talkin’ to her," Eren growls, fingers tightening in your hair. 

"That’s the shit she likes." 

Onyankopon’s hands find your face—rough, claiming—thumbs pressing into the dip of your cheeks, forcing your mouth wider.  

"Pretty ass face, Mama," he rumbles, eyes locked on yours. 

“Suckin’ me up like a fuckin’ pro.” 

You moan around him, the vibration making his thighs flex.   

Eren grunts, “Keep takin’ that shit, baby." 

Onyankopon pushes deeper, the schlupp of your spit slicked lips echoing as your throat convulses. His thumb drags over your stretched mouth, feeling himself inside you.  

“Tastes so good.” 

You were mewling, mindlessly at that. 

“Yeah? How it’ look?" 

You pull off with a pop, tongue lolling, lips swollen and shiny. 

“'Looks so good. So handsome, Papa." 

Onyankopon growls at the pet name—low, animalistic—before yanking you forward again.  

Eren’s voice returns, "Look in her eyes." 

Onyankopon’s gaze burns into yours—dark, unrelenting—as you take him back, deeper this time, until your nose brushes his pelvis.  

“Always keep them’ eyes on her." 

Your vision blurs, tears spilling as you gag, but you don’t look away. Can’t.

Because then—  

Onyankopon yanks you back and spits between your parted lips.  

You moan, tongue darting out to catch it before he’s kissing you—deep, possessive—fingers tangled in your curls as he licks into your mouth like he owns it.  

And when you drop back to his dick, slapping it against your tongue with a wet smack—  

You hear your husbands, “Don’t be fuckin’ cute," drag out in a warned grunt. 

You giggle, high and breathless, taking Onyankopon’s balls into your mouth, sucking.

“Just wanted to taste him, baby,” you whined. 

Eren graveled, “Yeah?” 

He then grunts, “Quit playin’. Lay on your back, missin’ your pussy in my mouth.”  

Your back hits the mattress. The moment you're down, Eren’s hand grips your thigh, spreading you open with zero hesitation. 

“Come hold her legs," he commands, voice thick with hunger—“She be squirmin’ too much when I eat this shit."

Before you can even process the command, Onyankopon is there—his massive frame caging you from behind, hands wrapping around your ankles like manacles. He drags you back, exposing you completely—no hiding, no modesty, just open.  

The first swipe of Eren’s tongue is fire, molten and possessive, licking a broad stripe from your entrance to your clit. You jolt, back arching, fingers flying into his hair and pulling. His groan vibrates against your flesh, sending sparks shooting up your spine.  

His tongue swirls around your clit, savoring the way you twitch beneath him. Each lick is torture—calculated, teasing—until you're writhing, thighs quaking in Onyankopon's unyielding grip.  

“Stop movin'," Eren growls, pressing a heavy palm to your pelvis, forcing you still.  

But you can’t.  

You’re too sensitive, too wound up, and when his mouth latches onto your clit, sucking—  

“F—fuck, baby. Missed your mouth so much.” 

Your back bows, head thrashing against Onyankopon’s chest as pleasure rips through you. 

“Look at the way he devourin’ that pussy," he rasps, voice curling within your ear like smoke—“Bouta’ have a nigga drownin’ in this shit.”

“Pussy messy as fuck,” Eren groans against your folds, lapping at your slick like a man starved.  

Onyankopon’s grip tightens, spreading you wider, forcing you to take every second of Eren’s relentless tongue. 

“Goddamn," he mutters, voice rough, “Yo’ shit look so fuckin’ edible."

Then your husband grunts, burying his face even deeper, nose pressing against your clit as his tongue plunges inside you.  

“Oooh!”

“Look at him," he commands, “Look at the way he eatin’ you."

All you can do is tremble. Whimper. Shake. Watch. 

Onyankopon’s tongue wraps around your ear, “Missin’ yo’ fuckin’ mouth, babydoll." 

His fingers tangle in your curls, yanking your head back, forcing your lips to part as his dick slaps against your tongue—thick, heavy. You moan around him, the vibration making his hips jerk, the tip hitting the back of your throat in one brutal thrust.  

“Shit,” he growls, watching your throat bulge around him. 

All while, Eren’s tongue devours you from below, lips sealing around your clit, sucking until your thighs clench, until your vision whites out once more—but Onyankopon doesn’t let you escape. His grip on your hair tightens, forcing you to take every inch, every pulse of him fucking into your mouth.  

Eren’s voice is a dominance even as he worships you, “Look up at him."

Your lashes flutter open, meeting Onyankopon’s hooded, predatory gaze as he owns your throat.  

“You ready for me?” he rumbles, thumb smearing spit across your swollen lips.  

Your answer is a whimper—high, broken, desperate.  

“That ain’t how you beg." 

“Please, Ony. Need it. Need you." 

And only then, Eren pulls away. 

Your cunt clenches around nothing, a pathetic whine tearing from your throat at the loss—  

But then Onyankopon’s mouth is there, his tongue flattening against your clit, laving over you with a roughness that has you squeaking.  

He doesn’t let you adjust. Doesn’t let you breathe. His tongue spears into you, fucking you deep, mimicking exactly what his dick was about to do. Eren’s hands replace Onyankopon’s on your thighs, spreading you wider, his voice a growl in your ear.  

“You look so fuckin’ good.” 

Your head falls back against Eren's shoulder, seeking his mouth like a lifeline. His lips crash into yours, swallowing your needy little noises, his tongue claiming every inch of space as if marking you—reminding you who you belong to. 

“I love you," you pant between kisses, trembling against him. 

“Love you so much, 'Ren." 

He growls against your lips, “Ich liebe dich auch" I love you too, “I fuckin’ know you do.” 

Onyankopon's tip then drags through your soaked folds, spreading you so slowly you feel every ridge, every pulse of his veins against your clit. 

His forehead presses to yours, dominance radiating off him in waves. 

“Now I need you to keep them eyes on me.” 

And then he pushes in. 

The stretch is blinding—thick, relentless, carving into you inch by torturous inch. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream, body arching, toes curling as your pussy drips around him, already struggling to adjust.  

“Fuhhhhhhhck.” 

Then, deeper. 

Your back bows, a broken moan tearing from your throat as your body betrays you—gushing around him in a sudden, shocking rush. Onyankopon curses, his hips jerking at the flood of your release, his grip bruising on your thighs.  

“Pussy tryna’ fight me," he grits out, mesmerized as your cream spills over his length. 

“Ain’t even fuck you yet. This how you cummin’ f’ me?”

Eren’s grunt is dark against your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse—“Goddamn. Good fuckin’ girl, baby.” 

“Ony,” you gasp, "It’s—it’s so much.”

His fingers tug at your chin, "You gon’ open up for me?" 

You nod frantically, lips parted, “Uh-huh.” 

His dick gave a slow, brutal drag out—then back in, punching the air from your lungs. Your mouth falls open, your eyes roll, and your hands scramble—one clinging to Onyankopon’s neck, the other clawing at Eren’s arm, anchoring yourself between them.  

Onyankopon’s pace is merciless, each thrust stretching you wider, each snap of his hips dragging a new sob from your throat.  

“Talk to me, Mama," he growls, grip tightening on your jaw—“I’m hurtin’ you?"  

You shake your head, dazed in the pleasure. 

“Feels soooo good.” 

Eren’s thumb swipes your tears away—one’s you didn’t realize you had—his lips brushing your ear.

“Du machst ihn so hübsch.”

You’re takin’ him so pretty.

“Stretchin’ shit open for him like a pretty fuckin’ slut.” 

You melt at his words, arching into Onyankopon’s next thrust, your pussy clenching around him like a vice.  

“Fuckin’ hell," Onyankopon grunts, hips stuttering—“This pussy made for allis’ dick." 

Eren grunts, “Nah. Made for me.” 

Two men with a dominance neither of them could shake, tossing up your brain to mush with every sense of pleasure. You thought your body couldn’t take more—But oh, they had so much more to give. 

And maybe you did too. 

You now crawl across the sheets, hands gliding up Eren’s chest; nails dragging over ink and muscle, relishing the way his abs clench beneath your touch.  

“Missed my ‘Ren.”

“Missed this fuckin’ pussy.” 

A smirk curls your lips as you grind down, letting him feel just how wet he makes you—his cock slaps against your folds, leaving a glistening trail along your skin.  

“You wanna put it in me?” 

Eren’s growl vibrates through you, “Ärgere mich nicht.” 

Don’t tease me. 

Onyankopon’s hands slide up the back of your thighs, claiming as you whimper and press Eren’s palm to your lips. His finger slips between them, and you suck, hollowing your cheeks, swirling your tongue—  

“Fuck," Eren’s hips jerk, his cock twitching against your ass. 

“Gonna make me lose it early, woman.”

Keeping your husband's attention below—you lean over and wrap your mouth around Onyankopon’s dick, dragging your tongue against the entirety of him as you grind Eren’s cock between your thighs.  

But suddenly? It seemed like he wasn’t the biggest fan of sharing anymore. 

One hand fists in your hair, yanking your mouth down. His other grips your chin, forcing your gaze to his.

“Eyes on me ‘fore I show him how you really get fucked.” 

You whimper—obedient. 

“Now bounce.” 

You sink down, taking him to the hilt, your little cry splitting the air as your walls clamp around him.  

“There you go,” Eren grunts, watching your tits jump as he tugs down greedily—every slap of skin on skin infiltrating your thoughts—if you even had any left. 

Onyankopon’s hands guide your hips, helping you move, his lips hot on your neck.

“Takin’ that dick like a muhfuckin’ champ.” 

You mewl, fingers scrambling for purchase on Eren’s chest as pleasure crushes you.  

“Ony.”

“Ion’ wanna hear my name right now. Fuck him.”

Your whine was a complaint, of course it was.

Eren’s grip tightens around your throat, his gaze searing into you like a brand—green eyes dark with something between lust and possession. His thrusts slow to a brutal, punishing grind, forcing your back to arch as his cock stretches you obscenely wide.  

“Say you fuckin’ love me.” 

“I—I love you,“ you gasp, pitching forward to litter his neck with wet, open-mouthed kisses, “Love you so much, 'Ren.” 

His snarl is vicious, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise.  

“Made you too fuckin’ greedy." 

SMACK! 

“Gave you everythin’,” he growls, snapping his hips up hard, “Still beggin’ for him like a thirsty lil’ slut.” 

Onyankopon’s hand fists in your hair as he yanks your head back—his spit thwapping on your tongue. 

“Papa heard you ‘was thirsty.” 

Your body betrays you again, gushing around Eren’s cock in a sudden, shameless flood—your thighs quake, a broken squeak tearing from your throat as your body releases throughout Eren’s repetitive smacks on your ass. 

“Fuckkk,” Eren groans, watching your pussy drip down his length as he tugs himself out. 

Even with your legs shaking, even with your body throbbing—your chest still presses into Eren’s chest anyway, ass in the air, presenting yourself to Onyankopon.

“Put it in me.” 

Onyankopon’s hand lands on your lower back, “Next time Imma’ teach yo’ ass how to wait." 

He doesn’t slam into you—no.  

He makes you feel it.  

Every.  

Inch. 

Onyankopon’s dick parts you like a blade through silk—slow, stretching you so wide you feel your own heartbeat in the walls of your cunt. Your moan shudders through the room, high and broken, fingers digging into Eren’s shoulders as you arch, your ass trembling with every glide deeper.  

Eren just keeps smacking your ass, “Nimm es.” 

Take it.

Onyankopon’s hand fists in your hair, forcing your spine into a deep, sinful curve. His breath is hot against your ear, his teeth nipping at your pulse as he grinds deeper, making your thighs shake. 

“You loud as hell,"  he rumbles, “Whole fuckin’ city know you gettin’ dicked down.”  

“Ony—please, please, I need—“

“Now you need me, huh?” 

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! 

“Nah. Yo’ ass just want. And I’m givin’ it to you.” 

You sob, tears streaking down your cheeks, your body burning with overstimulation—but you don’t stop. The thrust just keeps coming, coming, coming. 

“You gon’ cum for us, baby?" 

You nod, “Yes.” 

Onyankopon’s groan is filthy, his hips snapping into you with a punishing precision. 

“Then cum.” 

Your body locks as your back arches, your mouth open in a cry—Your pussy squirts, gushing around Onyankopon’s dick as pleasure electrocutes every nerve for one last time. Eren groans, his own release painting your stomach as he watches you—watches the way your eyes roll, the way your lips tremble, the way you fall apart between them.  

Onyankopon follows, his thrusts turning uncontrolled—his cum filling you, marking you, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he growls your name.  

And then, silence. 

Just the sound of heartbeats, and flesh drinking into one another. Your body collapses onto Eren’s chest, exhausted, ruined—his arms wrapping around you, lips pressing against your sweat slicked forehead as you now feel the entirety of what’s just happened. 

“You did real fuckin’ good” he murmurs, voice soft and somehow still rough. 

Onyankopon grunts behind you, his hand stroking down your spine. 

“Mhm. Real good, Mama." 

You shiver, burying your face in Eren’s neck, your flushed whimper muffled against his skin. 

Eren’s thumb traces the delicate shell of your ear, his lips curving into that smug, knowing smirk as he watches you hide your face against his chest—your cheeks burning, your body still trembling from the aftershocks.  

“My baby," he murmurs, voice thick with amusement, “Shy now, after all that? Tch,” he sucks his teeth, “That ain’t fair.” 

“Ain’t no way,” Onyankopon rumbles, “Not after all that noise you was makin’. You ain’t shy—you just full.” 

“Or she just knows she’ll get it again.” 

A shiver ran through you. 

Eren’s palm cups your face, his thumb swiping away the remnants of your tears as he leans in, pressing a slow, claiming kiss to your lips.  

“Love you,” he growls, the words rough, real. 

You giggle against his mouth, fingers tightening in his hair, kissing him back like you mean it—like you could drown in him, in this. 

Onyankopon’s hand lands on your hip, squeezing—a silent promise, a question, maybe even a threat.  

Would this happen again? 

You didn’t know. 

But the way they look at you—hungry, amused, and owning—tells you all you need to.  

Within a second you can feel the heavy thrum of his massive frame gaining on you. His heavy, rough panting and snarling, send a shock wave of fear straight through your gut as you sprint at full speed like your life depends on it. You know. You know you only have one chance to escape him every time he comes after you. Your feet hit the earth with a force from yourself you hardly recognize while your heart beats in your throat. Your muscles coil tight like a spring ready to snap as you cut and turn in the forest hoping to lose him, but it doesn't work. And your stomach lurches at the sound of him getting closer, his grunts and gnarls louder behind you making your heart skip a beat, you're getting tired, you can feel it as you sprint and cut through the cool wind.

"You can't run forever little bunny"

His sinister taunt makes you tremble with fear, and the sheer terror that sparks through you like an electric live wire makes you whine loudly as you search the forest floor for cover. Your eyes search quickly and on the spot as your throat grows more hoarse from exhaustion, until you suddenly spot a forest burrow. Perfect for a bunny hybrid like yourself just up ahead, you push yourself harder in your sprint despite your body overcome with exhaustion. You almost stumble. Almost. There was a branch sticking out of the ground. Dammit, but you don't let up, the earth spins at the ferocious sound of him gaining on you, making the hairs at the back of your neck stand up. But just then you noticed a fallen tree just before the burrow, hidden from your sight earlier in the distance.

"You're not gonna make it little bunny, mind as well give up"

Your stomach twists into knots at his continuous teasing and taunting. You hop over the fallen tree barely making it by the skin of your teeth, flipping and rolling in the forest dirty before instinctively jolting up and continuing to run without even slowing down. Your body aches now from the fall and roll and you let out a cry. but just as you do you can hear the haunting chuckle of the most intimidating predator in the forest. You sob in fear and soreness as you lunge the last few steps into the small burrow. Somewhere you know that the big scary wolf can't get to you. The instant that you enter the small burrow a massive strong hand digs firm into the dirt behind you curling and lifting it into his claws as he growls. Your lips quiver a sound of a suppressed cry in your throat as you hide in the farthest corner of the burrow you could get into.

"Oh...sweet little bunny...I can smell your fear...."

He growls still only able to fit his bulky muscular arm into the entrance of the burrow.

"Go away!"

You shout, your voice trembling in fear. But the wolf suddenly stops, and removes his hands from the whole. But his head now peaks into the whole, the widest grin on that scarred lip that you never understood how he'd gotten. And green irises that glare in the afternoon forest light. His dark spikey bangs hang low on his forehead.

"Come on little bunny don't be like that....I'm starving here..."

He hisses out as you cling to a loose branch in the burrow. You look around frantically for a possible way out seeing him so close to the entrance. You gulp. Your heart is in your ass when you see him easily shred the burrow open with his. Bare. Hands. And when the light leaks through and you're fully exposed beneath the beast of a man, your sight darkens from fear. He huffs loudly looking down at you lying back on your elbows at him.

"Look. You run again, this time I'm not gonna let you get away. It's cute watching you run, but I'd like to my hands on ya for a minute, yeah?"

Your eyes dart around the open forest with miles of opportunities to escape his grasp. But when you look up at the massive hybrid wolf above you, you know that he knows. You'll run. And just as you turn to, a colossal hand slams you down onto your stomach and into the moss and grass of the forest floor. You yelp at the pressure on your back with a slight squirm.

"Look at you. Squirming pathetically like a damn cockroach. You're so goddamn cute..."

And then suddenly you stop squirming when warm breath and body heat presses to your back and teeth clam down on your neck sinking into your flesh to hold you in place. Not to hurt, just to dominate. And you stiffen there.

"Stop moving and squirming and shit. I'm not gonna let you go until you promise you won't run. Alright?"

Your eyes follow him hooked into your neck. As you breathe heavily, your body limp now. You nod in resignation. He sighs content with your answer.

"Good. Now...I'm gonna let you go. You run, it will be your last moments cutie...understand?"

His words were soft, calm and muffled in the flesh of your neck. You nod silently. And just when you do, his teeth loosen from your neck slowly until you feel his presence move from behind you. You let out a relieved sigh until you feel his hands grip you by the waist, digging into your soft skin firmly and lifting you into the air to hoist you over his bulky shoulder. You immediately squirm, flailing your arms every which way before drumming against his back clearly made of stone as he walks through the forest unphased by you. He yawns to tease you.

"It's no use. Let it go. You're not getting away, and if you do? You know I'll just come after you again."

Your stubborness won't let you let up as you kick and try to fight him. And when you sink your teeth into his shoulder he chuckles.

"Please, sweetheart. Bless your heart. That tickles, please I'm ticklish."

He says teasingly. You groan in irritation as you rest your elbow on his shoulder to rest your face in the palm of your hand in full resignation now. Your legs dangle over his chest as he carries you through the deep thicket.

It's silent for a moment as he walks. The sound of spring breeze on the trees and grass soothing you now. He has been hunting you for weeks now. You huff thinking he must be feeling pretty proud of himself, but you're sure he's going to kill you, that these are your last moments. That he'll start with the most tender parts of your body first, your neck and thighs and work his way around you. He's the most feared apex predator in this forest, the alpha wolf among the others, bigger, faster, and scarier. Despite you having given up and deciding that instead of making him impatient and tearing you to shreds to eat you alive right here, that you'll be on your best behavior. For now.

"Where are you taking me?"

You ask your voice thick with confusion and fear. It's silent for a moment before he answers.

"Somewhere private. Where no one will hear you scream"

You immediately panic and try to squirm free. Even if you know it's useless, even if you know he could snap and kill you right here you cannot help the spark of fear that surged through you the instant he said it, your heart beats so fast it aches as you bite into his shoulder again over and over, moving frantically. Desperately trying to escape his grasp again. An irritated growl comes from him as he picks you up and drops you down onto his shoulders again practically knocking the air out of you and a sharp yelp.

"Cut it out dammit. We're almost there"

You whine softly at your futile efforts to free yourself and rest there on his shoulders again. It's not long before he finally stops walking. And when he does you look behind you over his shoulder to see a dark den in front of the two of you. Your heart sinks to your stomach and twists at the eerie sight surrounded by the light of the forest.

"Aht, aht. Don't try anything. It's useless."

He says it before you could even move but he's right. But why would you want to go in there?? he walks toward the den and then ducks at the entrance to lower himself inside. The afternoon light of forest gone in a flash as he carried you deep into the dark den. Your heart thuds against your chest at the transformation from the sunny warm and open forest to the pitch black environment. You keep quiet until he finally drops you off of his shoulder rough to the ground. The smack of your back hitting the dry soil makes the earth rise in a cloud at the instant impact beneath you. Before you can register what's happening both of his massive hands slam around your head against the dry earth, caging you in and making you startle and yelp, the sound instantly tearing from your trembling body.

You clam your eyes shut tight, your frame trembling uncontrollably feeling the loud and breathy huffs and growls of the massive wolf hybrid beast breathing heavily against your skin. His breathe so intense it sends tingles down your spine. Before suddenly...

His breath mingles in the crook of your neck tickling there as his strong breath brushes over you. His sharp chin nestled there. The gesture is so warm and gentle it surprises you. You finally snap your eyes open realizing you aren't dead.

"W-where am—,"

Before you can even get a word out soft lips crash against yours, lips mingling and caressing instantly before you can register what's happening, your mind practically blank now, with shock. When your lips slowly part, you gaze at the male hybrid above you...his dark spikey bangs, and sharp dark eyes that could cut glass send shivers down your spine. His wolf ears are flicking....with joy?

"P-please don't eat me toji..." you murmur, the scar on his lip twitches into a smile. A firm hand comes up to grip the back of your neck and squeezes.

"I'm hungry bunny....but not for your flesh"

Your eyes widen in shock as his lips move to graze along your neck softly, his hand still firmly in place at the back of your neck. He presses soft kisses along your neck, patient, slow, soft. He guides a rough hand along your breast, his large hand cupping you in his palm and squeezing hard, a sharp feeling of electricity shoots through your body as your body temperature rises. Your breathing deepens in arousal when he growls, a real growl, a wolf growl, low in his throat that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand and goosebumps that rise on your skin.

And then you felt it. You're sure you could feel something firm, hard...against your core. Right there as he caged you in, in the middle of it all, you could feel him rock hard against you. His hand continues to fondle slowly under his colossal palm.

"T-then w-what do you w-want?"

Your lip quivers, but you're not sure from what now...the large and muscular Wolf hybrid above you triggering different emotions. Fear? Arousal? Either way...you weren't interested in running anymore.

"You still don't get it little bunny...?"

You gulp as you feel his erection so hard against you, you can feel it throb and twitch with want, with need. His hand moves from the curve of your breast lower, down your stomach and somewhere more...tender.

"Oh!"

He grins against your neck with a rough and low chuckle.

"Oh! Yeah...."

He mocks you, guiding a rough tongue in circles against your neck before sucking. Hard.

"I-I think I get it now...ngh–"

Your hands tremble with a new feeling. Want. Or even something deeper…need. His hips roll slowly against your core, his erection a stone against your clit that rubs against it, over and over again. His lips move from your neck to your lips, to crash an open mouthed kiss, still slow. the moment he finally hears your sweet whining. His lips caress yours with a tenderness you never expected. The thick smell of your arousal now fills his sensitive senses making his eyes blow wide with pure want. He growls a feral sound against your neck and bites gently until he can hear you whimper.

"Cute little bunny's in heat now...you want me huh?"

He says sniffing the arousal on your body. And he's right, but now feeling him hard against you and kissing you has your eyes rolling back to the back of your eye head and your thigh trembling from the friction.

"You tired of running now huh little bunny? Tell me you want more..."

You clung to him feeling his hand suddenly glide down between the two of you. His hand hovered warm right over your core barely touching for a moment until it covered your heat. You could feel his fingers slide between your slick folds oozing over his fingers, he slid his fingers all around and between your inner lips. He groaned softly, feeling just how wet you were.

ʼslicker than fucking baby oil cutie…ʼ

He hummed a satisfied sound grumbled at the back of his throat feeling just how ready you were and a hot wave of arousal shot through him like a live wire and went straight to his cock. You could feel the large hard bulge that rubbed subtly against your thigh now throb and twitch with feral need. After dancing his thick fingers between your soft and moist folds he slowly popped one finger into your tight hole and let you grip his finger like a suction cup, he hummed again licking his lips barely letting you adjust and pumping his single finger into you slowly.

“you ever had someone touch you like this little bunny?”

You whined softly, barely squirming from the pleasure.

“n-no…”

a sinister grin spread across tojiʼs lips as he brushed his lips right along your cheek and whispered.

“then your mine to claim”

“claim? As in mate?”

Toji huffed like the answer was obvious. And maybe it was. Without answering with words he added a second finger, popping his thick middle finger into your hole and letting your walls clamp down onto him. And when you let out another sweet whine, he grips the back of your neck hard enough to force a yelp from you. He was slowly unraveling, his control thinning by the second. He's been hunting this pretty little bunny for weeks, your unmated pheromones filled his nostrils, your sweet musk could be smelled from miles away. Anytime he caught a single whiff heʼd feel himself growing agitated with want before tirelessly hunting you down, but this time? He was in the middle of a mating rut, he became faster, stronger by the influx of his mating hormones and he just knew. This time, he was going to have you and god was it making his head spin finally having his hands on you. He could feel himself growling as he began pumping his fingers into you rougher, more eager, almost frantic. Your first time? For most mates theyʼd take their time. No other mate could possibly feel that overwhelming desire he felt within his body burning for you. So slow? Him? No. he had to have his sweet little bunny to himself completely. And fully. And would he stop at absolutely nothing even now? Yeah. He stretched your tiny hole with his fingers making you whimper weakly after a while. It wasn't until now he could gather himself enough to not go completely wild. Not just yet, but smelling you all aroused and looking so flushed with need for him was damn near the most difficult thing he had to do. He kissed your cheek hard before kissing down your jaw, neck, shoulders, collar bones and farther… and farther. Slow and starved open mouths kisses at every inch of your soft body down your chest linging just over a peaked nipple, rubbing his tongue around it in an open mouth kiss just to suck a few times. He squeezed your opposite breast as he sucked hungrily over your sensitive and peaked nipple just there, not even stopping when he felt you arch into his mouth. His firm palm squeezing and gripping firmly over your other breast until he switched showing the opposite breast just the same affection. He could feel your nipples hard as thumbtacks behind his lips and under his palm, his free hand squeezed your opposite breast he pinched your nipple between his index and thumb until he heard you yelp softly and soothed it with his tongue before returning to the breast he was originally sucking. But he didnʼt stop, he moved further, lips trailing down your sternum, down your stomach, your body arching into every kiss like you couldn't get enough of his soft warm lips trailing down your warm skin, until he reached your waist. He left wet open mouthed kisses all along your hips. He guided his tongue just beneath your belly button, testing, teasing you. Then he ran his fingers between your dripping folds again just to feel you once more and he groaned again. He ghosted his lips right over your needy pussy before finally ghosting the tip of his tongue through your folds and groaning at the first taste of you.

“Fuck”

Your heart thundered in your chest seeing his dark spike hair and muscular shoulders and arms framing you between your thighs. He takes his tongue and licks between your folds again, and again, tasting you and savoring you. But the moment he felt you roll your hips against his mouth silently begging the damn of self control broke. You wanted him, needed him the same way he needed you and it was making him fucking crazy. He gripped both of his large calloused hands and held your thighs open with a force that made the hem strings in your thighs tight enough to hurt and began feasting away at your pussy like a starved man. Not fast. But furiously. Sucking and lapping his tongue all around and in between your wetness. He hums greedily sucking and slurping you up like his tastebuds were on fire with every drop of your slick and his saliva coating his now swollen lips. But he could stop. Nope. Not yet. Not until he had completely ruined his pretty little bunny. He opened his mouth and sucked and kissed your pussy. Taking in a slow mouth full of you each time. And when you chased his mouth rolling your hips as much as you could (because he still was holding your thighs apart like they personally offended him) he dragged his tongue from your tight hole to the tip of your clit, drawing out those delightful sounds from you. Then he did it again, and again, and again each time you could feel every rough taste bud between your folds right where it mattered. He could feel your thighs trembling under his touch and grinned sinfully against your pussy.

“You like that little bunny? That feels good to ya?”

He grinned harder when you whined again. And slapped a mean hand down on your gushing pussy until slick flicked from you.

“Look at you, playing all innocent, now this little bunny wants my throbbing cock, is that what you want now little bunny?”

You trembled hard under his firm grip. Your hem strings burned but you wouldn't move if even the scariest predator was after you now. You wanted him, no, no, you needed, this, him.

“Y-y-es, please toji…”

He hummed absently, sliding his fingers into your sopping wet pussy again, now taking his fingers much better, slick with your fluids and his drool. He leaned down and dragged his tongue into a slow open mouthed kiss right over your pussy again and lifted his head to look at you again, his piercing green eyes locked on you with an intensity that let you know just how serious he was.

“Only good little bunnies get my cock”

You squirmed from the insufferable teasing.

“b-but, I am a good bunny…”

He scoffed and popped your pussy again with his rough hand spraying your slick across his lips and licking after.

“No. youʼre not a good bunny just yet”

His voice was muffled still gnawing at your needy pussy while he curled his fingers upward in your pussy until his fingers touched the roof of your uterus. You let out a deep moan that made tojiʼs cock jump furiously and stood up tall between his legs. He growled low and feral before squeezing your thigh harder with his free hand and began sucking hard just on your clit, and pumped his fingers into your pussy hard over and over again almost frantically, like he was chasing something. Something none other than your climax.

“good little bunnies have to cum for me…in order to get my cock”

But you could hardly answer him, yelping and moaning throughout the dark den. Arching and trembling as he hit every nerve in your folds and womb. It was overwhelming in the best and worst way. Your toes curled as you felt the pressure of your orgasm building deep in your womb, like electric shooting through you as your womb throbbed for release.

“Oh toji!”

That sound, his name on your lips? It wrecked him permanently. So he pumped his fingers harder into your sensitive core and smashed his fingers right up on that bundle of nerves furiously and sucked your clit like it was the last meal heʼd ever get while gnarling and grumbling against your pussy.

“Cum for me bunny”

And those words? Him demanding to finally make you cum on his lips? And the combination of his working mouth over your clit and his fingers punishing your g-spot? It was the tip of the ice berg. Without even wasting another moment a powerful orgasm crashed through you, your womb pulsed in waves of pleasure as you coated his tongue in your white cream that he licked up gleefully. He hummed in satisfaction tasting every drop of you on his tongue until he had cleaned your pussy of your orgasm.

You had barely caught your breath before the feral beast was standing to his feet and grabbing you by the ears to pull you up and down onto your knees. You whined softly as his heavy, veiny cock stood tall right in front of your nose. When you looked up you saw that sinister grin right above his cock, mean and looking right down at you.

“You ready little bunny?”

You gulped hard as his tip grazed your soft lips leaving precum from how eager he was.

“Ready for what?”

He sighs, forgetting you're a virgin. He slaps his cock over your lips.

“Open up those pretty lips and Iʼll show you in just a second”

Your cheeks burned hot as a furnace and you slowly and gently parted your lips. Our hands clenching into your thighs as you looked up at him. He sighed deeply looking down at the innocent sight of you looking up at him like that, he could see just behind your eyes you had no idea the way he planned to ruin your cute little mouth. He slowly shifted his hips to squeeze his thick cock past your lips, slowly spreading your lips right around his girth until your lips were pulled tight. Once he saw you had taken as much of him as you could (which was just past the tip) he grinned. And rubbed his hand around your jaw.

“Oh… good little bunny”

You whined softly as he let you adjust, the wetness around your lips slowly collecting around him. Once he saw you drooling he shifted his hips back slowly and then pushed forward slowly into your mouth. You gurgled in struggle and wrapped a hand around his aching length. He sighed in pleasure through parted lips as he thrusted into your mouth slowly shifting his hips and pumping his cock in and out of your mouth until he saw that youʼd caught the rhythm. You began to slowly bob your head back and forth with slight struggle. He groaned deeply.

“Fuckkkkk little bunny that feels good”

He cooed massaging your jaw as you slowly sucked. Your eyes were locked on his and his were on yours. You could feel him throbbing behind your lips with unbearable need. His dark green eyes held yours, sharp, intense, watching every flicker of struggle in your face and lips. But the slow wetness of your mouth felt good. Almost too good. No, no, like amazing. And toji? The alpha wolf who hunted prey for fun? He was done holding back. He took one large hand and gripped your bunny ears tight and began furiously thrusting his heavy cock into your mouth. And were you taking it well? No. you were drooling and gurgling spit as he slammed his cock to the back of your throat. You felt like someone had shoved a fist down your throat and was beating hell out of it. Your neck was covered in drool and precum while tojiʼs monstrous cock pushed further and further into your throat with each frantic thrust of his hips. You couldn't help the whimpers that mumbled from your lips wrapped around his cock while tears pricked in the corners of your eyes.

“Touch yourself ”

He demands huskily shoving his cock in the back of your throat. Your eyes widened in surprise, your vision blurred now from his frantic thrusting, as he slowed his pace now, gently sliding his cock between your swollen drooling lips. You whined, slowly sliding your hands between your thighs and rubbing your clit. Toji watched you with half lidded eyes and groaned behind his lips.

“Thatʼs it…atta girl”

You whined softly around his cock, toji could feel the vibrations around him making him wince softly in pleasure. He rubbed his hands through your soft bunny ears massaging them in silent approval.

“Good…good girl…youʼre doing such a good fucking job..”

Toji growls in pleasure and he slowly thrusts into your mouth letting your drool and his precum drip from your lips with a helpless expression that makes tojiʼs erect cock twitch behind your lips. His aching cock was coated in your drool and you softly slurped him up and bobbed your head back and forth again, taking him slightly easier, and working your lips further down his shaft. He groans deeply, throwing his head back. You whined again, rubbing your clit and slurping up his cock. Toji shuddered gently (barely noticeable) the way you sloppily slurped his cock like it was juice on a table. But the way you looked so innocent while doing the nastiest thing heʼs ever seen, toji grins.

“You ready for me, little bunny?”

Your ears perk up with excitement and your eyes light up on him, eager, wanting, and with dripping lips around his cock you nod slowly, barely a dip of your head, you nodded yes. But the second toji saw that slow nod all bets were off. You were going to be his. Toji yanks you off of his cock by the ears, a line of drool pulling from his tip and your lips until you are falling on your back in the dirt. You sat up to look at the massive wolf hybrid already down on his knees and crawling on top of you. His green eyes glowing in the dark of the cave as he leaned down and kissed you slow and deep, with a firm hand coming up to hold you right by the throat slightly choking you as he slid his tongue past your lips and into your mouth wrapping it around yours. He groans into the kiss right over your whining as you suddenly feel something big and soft pushing gently right between your folds. You reflexively cling to him, nails digging into his toned biceps that were built like a machine, he slowly pushed into you. His hips jerked into half thrust gently, slowly stretching your folds and letting you take him inch by agonizing inch. He groaned, taking his free hand and squeezing his cock into you, deep enough to make you wince in pain and tremble, then he dragged his tongue up your neck slow before sucking and shaking his head no.

“Theres more, hold onto me”

You dug your nails into him clinging harder and it only made him groan softly before pushing up further into you. You squirmed slightly from the intensity. Your walls warm, wet and snug clenched around him like a suction cup and made his arms tremble with restraint.

“Fuck…”

He grabbed your hip firm enough to keep you steady.

“No running little bunny…”

He inhales and exhales deeply keeping his rough palm gripped around your neck as he finally begins rolling his hips. The curve of his cock already pushing up gently now against your g-spot immediately drawing those sounds from you that only spurred him on further.

“Still wanna run from me?”

His voice was soft and taunting against your flitting bunny ears as he rolled his hips a bit deeper, and harder, making you bounce subtly. Not at full force. You slowly shook your head no. Your body was in pure heat against his as the sound of your soft whines and his rough grunting filled the space between you. Each thrust sent heat up your spine, and those sounds you made? Made toji growl loudly. He grunted sitting up right thrusting between your legs, and kept his hand firm around your throat, his thrusts grew faster, harder, making your bounce frantically.

“Thatʼs it, thatʼs a good little bunny”

Toji was grunting like a wild hybrid, hand gripped tight enough around your throat for you to choke and see stars. His free hand throwing your legs over his shoulders, puncturing your womb with his cock at an intense position, your sounds came out in strained whimpers.

“Aw, donʼt tell me youʼre tapping out little bunny?”

You panted and cried out. The way his cock penetrated your g-spot made you see white behind your eyes. Your legs trembled and shuddered over his shoulders as he thrusted into you at the meanest pace. The sound of your dripping slick between skin on skin gushed between you.

“Oh toji! Please! More! More!”

He grinned, and began thrusting into you like a monster blacked out.

“Go ahead, cum for me again y,n”

He grunted like a bull hammering into you until you were screaming, your hips jerked violently in pleasure as you strained fighting the release. Toji shifted his hips letting one of your legs drop until your legs made a right angle and began ramming his hips hard into your clenching womb and pushing right against that tender bundle of nerves until you shuddered hard and creamed all over his cock. Toji groaned loudly at the sight of you coating his shaft and thrusted one more time letting you ride out that high.

You whimpered softly as you settled gently. But suddenly before you could even realize it, toji was flipping you like you weighed nothing until you were on all fours as you yelped at the sudden forcefulness. You dug your nails into the dirt of the dark den as toji pushed his hand firmly in the middle of your back forcing your back into an arch.

“My turn”

Your heart drops to your ass as you realize what he meant. That he didnʼt…, oh. And oh was right. Toji slapped your ass hard enough to make you jolt nervously, before smearing his cockhead right as your entrance teasing it there to coat you all over his bulbus cockhead. He groaned softly, squeezing your ass with both hands firmly enough to spread them before pushing his massive cock into your tiny hole. He spits right into your entrance just to make it more slick for him before pushing in and letting your hole suck him up. You whined softly taking in the full length of him, trying to let your body get used to him, but despite this, you couldn't help the eager gesture to bounce back to take more of him even though you could barely take what he was giving you. Toji threw his head back and smacked a rough hand down onto your ass grinning like the devil.

“Where did you learn that little bunny? You want my cock that badly?”

You wanted to answer so badly, you really did but god it felt so good the way he filled your womb so perfectly while full of his cock. It took you a moment to gather your words before nodding your head between whimpers.

He thrusts into you hard, his hips smacked against your as hard enough to knock the wind out of you.

“You gotta tell me little bunny, otherwise…I might have to stop…”

And suddenly your world shifted. ʼstop?ʼ youʼd thought to yourself. It was the last thing you wanted him to do. So you gulped hard, and looked back at him.

“I-I-I want your cock toji!”

Toji groaned a sound from deep in the back of his throat before wrapping your bunny ears around his palm and smacking his hips into you wildly, youʼd never felt this much pleasure. It was deeper than just flesh, the two of you were mating, merging souls, becoming one. You could feel yourself bonding with him in this unexplainable way. Two heartbeats becoming one, two halves becoming a whole. And suddenly your body despite toji pulverising your g-spot until you were whimpering and crying out in unbelievable pleasure that made your body shudder and tremble hard all over, you felt a deep connection. Each thrust made stars burst behind your eyes as the sound of smacking skin and slick echoed through the dark den. Toji grunted like the wild beast that he was. His hands had released your soft fluffy bunny ears only to wrap one bulky bicep around your throat and pulling you backward toward him while his free hand gripped his thick fingers into your soft hip hard enough to bruise. You could hear the sound of him grunting, groaning and panting right there in your ear, a breathless and pleased sound coming from him no matter how hard he tried.

And it wasnʼt long before your new mate was burying his cock deep enough to fill your pussy full of his white sticky orgasm, filling you full enough to make your belly bulge full of his hybrid baby batter. And even as he pumped every last drop into your cream filled womb, the two of you panted together. Coming down from the high of ecstasy toji dropped onto the ground in exhaustion and pulled you with him. The two of you laid there completely spent. Tojiʼs body glistened with a sheen of sweat, as you whip the tears of pleasure from your eyes. Toji leaned over watching you whip your eyes and quietly moved your hands to whip them for you. You looked at him, surprised by such a tender gesture after what they'd just done. Toji ignored your slightly surprised expression and wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close in a warm hug. You didnʼt say anything, just nuzzled there in his chest. It was quiet for a moment until youʼd finally spoke.

“So…weʼre mates?”

Toji scoffs

“Yeah, Iʼm pretty sure we were mates by the time Iʼd finally gotten my hands on my pretty little bunny”

You smiled gently, still nuzzled into his chest.

Yeah. he was probably right. But now? You just wanted to appreciate finally having the mate you never knew you needed.

Y'all been waiting forever, I hope I made it worth your while!

Playgarism not authorized

99.96%.

‘Oh’ was right.

Just his name sends a thrill down your spine.

Your fists clench in your lap, and before you know it, you’re nodding at the woman. “I would…like to meet him, please.”

.

.

.

Name: Fushiguro Toji

Age: ?*

Occupation: ??

Category: DILF

Primary likings: Rough. Manhandling. Doggy. (For a more detailed report on sexual proclivities and medical assessment, please see Page 8 onwards…)

*Got offended when asked (assumed mid-thirties).

One date that lasts about an hour.

One date that lasts about an hour - that’s all it takes for the boiling tension between you and ‘Mr. Fushiguro Toji’ to bubble over. Perhaps it was due to the shared knowledge that you two were scientifically identified to be perfect sexual matches, perhaps it was the way those vine-green eyes swept over you leisurely, appreciatively, as you walked into the romantic dinner date arranged by the agency.

It seems Toji had entered himself into the BIG BANG THEORY PROJECT on accident after believing it was a normal matchmaking agency.

“—so imagine my surprise when I get there n’ all the questions are about what positions I like to stick my dick in?” He’d gruffed over the candlelit dinner - French cuisine, was it? A few of the other patrons glared at him, but Toji paid no attention. “I mean- I went along with it, of course. Already paid about twenty yen, hmpf…but I hadn’t actually planned to go through with this bullshit until-”

Those intense eyes of his flickered to you once more.

“-I saw that application of yours- of course.” And you felt the inchoate desire in your stomach give a strange twist—“A 99.6-”

“99.96%. Actually.” You interrupted, gnawing on your bottom lip.

“Interesting.” Toji smiled and leaned back into his chair. “Really interesting.”

And perhaps it was—

“Don’t tell me I’ve fucked ya speechless already when I haven’t even put it in?”

You’re snapping back to your senses- enough reminiscing about those first few minutes of meeting the man that was currently hugging you close to him - crushing you against his sultry sweat-sticky abs - not in a gentle display of affection, but such a lecherous embrace. Tacking his toned pelvis against your ass. Letting his engorged tip push-push-push between your pussylips and sliiiiiiiide down all those tender innards. 

Toji keeps you from moving even a single inch as he shuffles you into doggy position. The bed whines just as you do. “S’this your favorite?” He watches from the corner of his eye as you nod. “Yeahhhh, mine fuckin’ too, girlie.”

And, in emphasis, he’s circling one roughened palm over your right ass cheek—giving just a brazen little smack. 

“Mine fuckin’ too, girlie.” 

“I mean, there’s a reason they matched us.” You huff at him.

“Yeah- and I’m about to find out.” Toji mutters. And you’re hearing him before anything else - the soft creaking! of that shitty love hotel bed, dipping, as he shuffles even closer—the sultry lil’ smooch of his wet tip kissing your hole. Thump-thump-thump—you can count every pulse. His or yours? “Bite the pillow.”

“Why would I need to- ohhhh, mpf-”

The answer to your question comes swift and merciless - because in one fluid motion Toji has his cocktip burgeoning inside, and his hips plastering to yours. 

He keeps both hands - warm and slightly gnarled with callouses from whatever shady line of business he was in - firmly upon either side of your waist. Using his massive strength to jerk you back—just a little…But it feels like Toji was pumping thoroughly into your deepest core.

He was usin’ the little flare underneath his tip to stretch that snug channel- stretching and stretching that first ring of muscle. And then bashing his cockhead in so roughly that you start to wonder whether he was having issues controlling himself—you’re feeling Toji let out a little cracked groan as he feels your walls quiver around him. And then he’s pushing his hot cock in aaaaaaall the way as deep as it could go- “Aaaaaaatta girl. That’s a good girl. Now for the fun part…” 

You furrow your brows half-heartedly. “This isn’t already the fun part?” Earning yourself the oh-so-lascivious punishment of yet another spank on your right cheek; and then a few more probin’ pushes of his cock. “I was just—oh-” Your toes curl as he hits a particularly good spot without even trying.

“It is.” Toji responds. “But it’s just about to get a whole lot more fun.”

You’re shivering as one of his fingertips paint the line down your spine, immediately followed by a string of kisses as far as he could go. But, of course, you never did expect Fushiguro Toji to be so gentle—did you? You never wanted him to be, did you?

Because his lips hover ‘round the soft skin of your right shoulder—and without warning, he’s biting. Your mouth opens in a soundless scream.

With a grunt that sounds as though it’s been dragged from the primal depths of his throat, Toji jerks your hips back into his with a plap! of skin-on-skin. And almost before that, he’s suddenly starting to pummel and pummel those rugged hips of his into yours, utterly molding his thick cock into your goopy insides- coating every inch with a layer of his slick—

“Because.” Toji gruffs out in an animalistic way - he angles his head and licks a long stripe up your neck. “Because- it took me a loooooooong time to get matched on that damn program. A long fuckin’ time.”

“Oh-” You’re yelping as he tugs your arms from underneath you- and you’re collapsing face-first into the soft strawberry-scented pillows. Collapsed doggy. 

And before you know it, Toji straightens up and lets the heel of one of his feet rest on the corner of your shoulder. “Tch- way too fucking long.” This angle lets his cock penetrate even deeper, and his bouldering tip pushes into every single slick-filled orifice inside. “How long should it take to find a pretty babe f’me who likes it rough—” And he fucks you rough. “-who likes it hard—” And he fucks you hard. “-who likes me disrespectin’ this pussy like she deserves. Now how hard should that be, hm?”

And you’re unsure whether he was genuinely expecting a response or not - but you’re letting out a blabber of something you hope is comprehensible either way. “I—mmm, notthathard-”

“Exactly.” Toji huffs out a short breath of laughter. Then his hands are on you—pushing on the base of your spine and arching you in ways you didn’t even know were possible.

“O-ohhhhhh, harder-”

“Thought you said it wasn’t that hard? And throw in a little manhandling-” Arching. “Just a little dumbification.” Making you drool. He reaches his foot - just a little, just softly - up to put pressure on near your neck n’ restrict your air flow—he leaves you gasping and choking with every thrust. “A little choking- heh.” He looks you over. “Maybe a few daddy issues-”

“Hey!”

“And then you’ve got it. Perfectly matching. Now that shouldn’t be so hard, hm?”

But you can’t quite answer.

Because Toji’s fucking you so good- he’s thrusting his cock into yours like he wants his pelvis melded to yours ass. He’s crushing and draaaagging your limp body down the bed and into his strong arms. 

It’s almost as if your bodies are communicating with a secret language, because whenever you’re bouncing back he’s angling juuuust right to swab into your g-spot, when you’re jerking forwards he’s chasin’ after that syrupy-sweet pussy of yours. Candied with glittering globs of his pre. 

Creating a swatting sound so loud, creating a pressure between your legs so hard, that your ears start ringing—“Oh, p-please…”

“And y’know the only difference between you and me?” Toji’s still steamrolling his dirty sentences- and you can barely blink your eyes open past all the pleasure he’s giving you. But you must manage to make some noise of question, because he continues. “That agency categorized me as a DILF. And you’re no MILF…yet.”

A shockwave runs down your spine.

“Th-that means…”

Toji leans in and huffs. Clammy breath. “So that profile said something about a breeding kink?”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - 100.1% (?) MATCH!

“You’ve done it. I’m ah…not quite sure how- but you’ve done it.” Dr. Shoko breathes. And although the words are in her usual impervious tone of voice, there’s a quiver there at the end that, after weeks of appointments with the doctor, you’ve learned to pick out as foreign. 

Dr. Ieiri Shoko never wavers.

You’re leaning in and attempting to peek at your file. “Is there something wrong, doctor?”

“Not unless you count breaking the program’s metric wrong.” She slides over the file - face down as though the documents inside would snap at her if she wasn’t careful - and you’re immediately flipping it open. Your eyes widen as they’re immediately drawn to the bold, underlined number of a 100.1% match shown at the top of the first page—you’re then meeting Shoko’s own widened gaze.

“Huh?”

“That’s putting it lightly.” Shoko opens her drawer and takes out two caplets of Extra Strength Tylenol and chugs them down—no water. She closes her eyes for a second to let them pass down her slender throat, and once she opens them again she’s immediately looking down at the file - as if hoping it had disappeared in the time. 

But no such luck for Dr. Ieiri Shoko today.

She lets out a prolonged sigh and leans back in her chair. Enough time has passed that the two of you could forgo such formalities in the presence of the other, “I just…I just don’t know how that could happen. Mathematically and scientifically, it just doesn’t make sense. And yet, the program never makes a mistake- never.”

You understood her plight - you’d looked over (and passed on) your fair share of matches, and the highest you’d gotten was a 78% match with some guy called Atsumu Miya—you just had this nagging feeling that you’d find a greater match.

A stronger…chemistry with someone else.

And so you’d passed. And passed. And passed, until you were starting to feel that perhaps you’d never find a match greater than the 90% or even 80% statistics that the site often boasted. That is until…

Name: Nanami Kento

Age: 27

Occupation: Office worker

Category: Gentleman with a big D.

Primary likings: Service dom. Fitting. Milk him. (For a more detailed report on sexual proclivities and medical assessment, please see Page 9 onwards…)

Your eyes linger on those last two words of his Primary Likings section: milk him…

And immediately you’re feeling a thrill shoot up between your legs—causing them to squeeze together, causing Shoko’s eyes to quickly flicker down at the miniscule action. “Hm.” She types something on her keyboard - and you assume she’s shooting an email to one of the matchmakers in the program. “Maybe that’s what they mean by a match of 100.1%…”

White-hot embarrassment curls around your heart. “What? Oh, you’re incorrigible-”

“And you’re glad.” She smirks. “This is what you’re been waiting all this time for, isn’t it?”

“Well, yes…” You’re looking down at the passport-sized photo of Nanami on the front page. It was seemingly some sort of office photo he must’ve used in his resumes as well; and there he stood all sharp and aloof - almost bored - in a form-fitting suit and his blond hair pushed back smoothly, deep-set eyes almost piercing through the photocopied paper. Like an utter gentleman. “Yeah. Yeah, maybe.”

.

.

.

“It’s okay, darling, you don’t have to take it all—”

“But I want to, Kento.”

There’s something so sensual - so utterly fucking erotic - about the way Nanami looks when he’s on the verge of pussydrunkness. Sprawled out on the love hotel mattress. Jawline dotted with your recently-made hickies. His thick thighs are tensing and untensing—just as you’re straddlin’ his hips just a little wider and taking in Nanami’s rock-hard, drippin’ wet cock.

A meek blush creeps up the man’s cheeks once you cup them.

You’re lifting Nanami’s handsome face up to meet yours, and keep such looong, loving eye contact as you’re sliding your hips down and gulping one more inch after inch. Thick inch after inch. 

The poor man’s breath catches and he’s letting out a little whimper as Nanami’s hot girth fills you up tantalizingly. “Oh sh-shit—”

Your body arches into his. “Mmm, with such a big, pretty cock like this - how could I not?”

“P-pretty…” He repeats. Those golden-hazel eyes of his widen behind his glasses, and you swear you see them welling up with tears as you take him. “But darling, what if it’s too big?”

“It could never be too big.” You cock your head with a sultry smile. “We’re a 100.1% match, remember? That means…”

In emphasis, you’re swervin’ your hips down in a semi-circular motion that makes him drive even deeper.

“-every part of us matches.”

And then poor Nanami Kento - overworked, underpaid, going off of nothing but instant coffee and the smell of freshly-baked bread from the bakery near the office - is being ridden to heaven by your devilish hips. Up and down. Up and down. The way you’re digging your nails into his shoulders…the way you’re pushing your nipples up against his pecs, rubbing…the way you’re clenchin’ around his tip - right where he was the reddest and hottest and most sensitive - every time he probes inside.

A too-loud moan erupts from his lips—and Nanami immediately attempts to clamp his mouth shut.

But there’s no use. You’re watching with a knowing smile as you’re fucking such lasvicious moans n’ ribbons of spittle out of him. With every single squeeze. 

Spit drips down the side of his mouth- and he shivers as you lean in and lick it away. “S-so that means…” He whispers. Almost to himself. Those pretty eyes of his keep starin’ down lovingly at the area you two were connected. “-this lovely lady is made for me?”

“If by ‘lovely lady’, you’re referring to my pussy…” You reply coyly. You throw your arms around him and tug on those precious golden curls at the nape of his neck. It makes a sexy grunt escape Nanami’s lips. “Then why don’t you find out?”

And Nanami doesn’t know why- he can’t help himself.

It’s just like…the more times he’s thrusting inside your cunt, semi-thrusts, the deeper he’s delving between those sweet pussylips, the more addicted he’s getting to it.

He’s reaching up and pressing down where he was fitting inside.

“Oh.” Nanami’s eyes grow heavy. Drunk on lust. A twinge of pain runs up your core as he squeezes a mere inch more, “Oh. I-is this okay?”

“Keep going.”

And he’s stretching you so much you can’t even begin to describe—

“Shiiiiit-”

“Does it hurt? I hope it doesn’t hurt-”

“No no- oh, more-”

“It’s true—” He spits. Beads of sweat plaster his temple, and his features twitch in pure carnal ecstasy as you squeeze your pretty legs tighter around him. A vein makes itself prominent on his neck. “Fuck, it’s true- she’s taking me so well-”

With a single thumb, he spreads apart your pussylips n’ watches his inches slip inside.

“And she’s so hungry for it, too.” Nanami looks up at you. “Do you think she’s been hungry for it all this time, my love? My cock?”

“Oh, I bet.” Throwing your head back—you’re practically plastered against Nanami’s surprisingly toned front. “Keep going, keep going, keep going, please- Kento—”

“Anything for you.”

And to be honest, Nanami Kento never saw himself as the wild type in bed. 

For starters, he was a busy man—spreedsheets were his regular partner, and powerpoints were his mistress. And perhaps that was the exact reason Shoko, his lifelong friend, had signed him up for this stupid program. As much as Nanami had howled and huffed about the ethics of signing one’s friend up for this and ‘but he needs to work that day so he doesn’t need to do overtime…’ lo and behold there he found you.

Well, more like you found him.

Showing up so pretty and perfect for your first meeting in Shoko’s office—and when he’d seen that match measurement of 100.1%…Nanami felt a sudden flare of madness: that perhaps this entire thing wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Your second meeting had been in this cramped love hotel. 

And Nanami had meant to wine and dine you- he’d meant to…but here he was. Hand clamoring to clasp either side of your hips - leaving crescent nail marks. Hips pushing off the mattress in animalistic little jerks—not even propery fucking inside, just yearning to feel the carnal squeeze of your cunt—

He hits that one spot. And he knows he does.

Because Nanami’s feeling his rotund cockhead push apart your pussylips n’ then slip somewhere deeeeep inside - one velvety bundle of nerves that makes you moan uncontrollably. Just a few inches more and he’d be hitting your coveted cervix…

And he does, but it feels like whiplash.

Because soon enough Nanami’s flipped the two of you over so that the bed dips with your combined weight, with you being manhandled onto your back, and Nanami’s cock wedging deeper into your cunt than it’s ever gone before. Inch by inch. It’s a hypnotizing mix of pain and pleasure as he marks every nook, cranny, and crevice inside you with silky dollops of pre. 

He finally fits.

And Nanami lets out a massive gasp - several - as though he’d just finished a marathon once he does so. “100.1%” He throatily repeats - whilst it feels like you’re squeezing him strong enough to milk him. You’re letting out a botched moan as he nudges against your cervix with the top of his smooth tip, smearing sprays of gooey precum—as if he’d go even deeper if he could. 

“I wonder what the 0.1% is, my love?”

You’re not getting out of here alive.

♡ GETO SUGURU - 98% (UN)MATCH!

“This is so stupid- we have no bed chemistry.”

“Absolutely no chemistry.”

“Seriously no chemistry.” 

“Not even an ounce of chemistry.”

“Then why’re you inside me?”

“Why’d you ask me to be inside you?”

“I’m the one asking the questions here-” You scoff—but you know he’s got you cornered. And by the smug expression on Geto Suguru’s stupidly handsome face, he knows that too. 

Unfortunately for him - you’re never one to back down. And so you’re slightly lifting your hips off the sweat-sodden mattress, not giving the man a second of warning before you’re clamping your silken walls down haaaaard ‘round his cock—and you try to ignore just how good - and familiar - it feels to have him inside you.

There was the thickness of his cockhead - flared the most at the base and perfect to jostle apart your slutty channel like you wanted so badly. There was one- two- three of his most prominent veins, curved down the middle of his shaft and rubbing against your pulsating soft spots. There was the arch of his erection that meant he’d not only be pushed against your cervix- but also up at the roof of your cunt. 

His breath hitches, and he’s letting his head throw back. Cute. 

And you never did expect to be matched with your stupid ex on that stupid sexual matchmaking program.

Let alone actually have sex with him again.

Let alone this be your fourth round.

Name: Geto Suguru

Age: 28

Occupation: Prefers not to say

Category: Morally grey.

Primary likings: Degradation. Spitting. Choking. (For a more detailed report on sexual proclivities and medical assessment, please see Page 69 onwards…)

“You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.” Dr. Shoko had commented. “Maybe a little check-up-”

“No.” You’d responded. “I’m ah- fine. It’s just—what sort of a category is that?”

“You’d be surprised what our clients are into.” She looked at you with amusement. “And, it seems, you as well.”

You shrunk in the clinic seat in shame.

And the most infuriating part of all…was that the damn program had been correct. 

Geto managed to string your body n’ your pleasure along as if it took him no effort—he’d memorized all your sweetest spots inside and it seems he’d never forgotten, he’d never hesitate before spankin’ on your throbbing clit because he already knows it’s going to set your body alight, he’d thrash and thrash his hips into yours because he was fucking angry. And you were, too.

So why did the two of you break up in the first place? Ah, let’s just say…that plans of world domination and date nights don’t go together that well.

But Geto, it seems, was a changed man (or so he said).

He’d dissolved his cult that he always refused to call a cult (or so he said). He was back to self-studying and mending his relationships (or so he said) except, of course, his one with you…

“Stop thinking about what an asshat I am, you always get that look when you think about what an asshat I am.” You’re hearing Geto scoff from above you—and he has the audacity to lean down and prod your furrowed brow relaxed. “S’gonna make me soft.”

“Join the club, I’m already dry.”

With a single - perfectly shaped - brow raised, Geto creeps his right hand down your side—letting those soft fingertips of his just lightly caress the front of your cunt. Your utterly sodden cunt. “That’s not what this pussy’s telling me?”

You’re scrambling onto your elbows. “Communication issues for two years and suddenly you’re the pussy whisperer?”

“Yes. Good that you’re catching up-” That very hand comes up to push you down—“Down, gorgeous- let’s do it my favorite position, hm?”

You scoff. “I don’t remember your favorite position.”

“Oh yeah? Then why’re you halfway down to a full nelson?”

And it was true—ah, for all your supposed pride and dignity, and the pep talk that you’d given yourself before the agency-organized dinner date that you would totally not fuck Geto Suguru no matter how handsome he looked…

But dammit, he’d worn his long hair down.

Of course, the two of you argued over your romantic dinner. Squabbling. Bickering. Making the server hold in his laughter every time you (admittedly immaturely yet albeit justifiably) swiped something off of Geto’s plate when he wasn’t looking; whatever one wanted to call it.

Of course, the two of you ended up at the love hotel a few minutes away from the restaurant; whatever one wanted to call it.

And currently you’re basking in the saturated, sickly-sweet strawberry scent bursting out in plumes from the love hotel pillows. “Eugh- I hate this smell.”

“Oh shush, you’re underneath me.” Geto got himself settled in the full nelson underneath you- and he doesn’t waste a single second before collectin’ a few trickles of slick on his right palm. He then grabs himself and coats his shaft in all the gossamer substance—pushing his perky tip against your hole. And then inside.

“O-ohhhhh—” Your voice cracks.

“Shut up, you’ve taken me more.” Geto spits- and at that very moment, you’re embarrassed to say that a carnal part of you twitches. And soon enough, he’s getting absolutely slathered in all those dewy droplets of sap that he’s missed so much since the break-up—absolutely claiming him, is what Geto likes to think. “And heh- based on what I read on your profile…me telling you to shut up just made you wetter-”

“A coincidence.” You sputter. “S-surely a coincidence.”

“Hmmm? And is it a coincidence that almost all those cute kinks on your profile were ones that I got you into?” He purrs- purrs.

“Not all- hngh, of them-”

“Maybe, but let’s be real, gorgeous—” And then Geto trails off - and it’s never a good sign when Geto trails off. Because that means- smack! As expected, his fingertips come slammin’ down until your clit’s swelling just a bit more, and his hips don’t slow down for a single second. You’re wincing as he keeps steamrolling. “-this pussy learned most of her tactics from me.”

What arrogance. Although you couldn’t lie- seeing Geto so worked up sent pangs of pleasure searing through every fibre of your body. And your favorite method to get him to shut up was to-

“Clench.” He’s gritting his teeth—hissing his words out through them, as he bucks his hips upwards- meeting your flutterin’ walls head-on with a sudden thwack! at your cervix. “Yeah- don’t think I don’t know about your secret technique-” Geto sounds crazed as he whispers in your ear, tone hitching and warbling with every second. But he still keeps going. “-and who taught you that clenchin’ so hard- clenching with the force of your core- feels so good?”

“I-I…” Saliva seeps into your mouth twofold now that Geto’s increasing his pace. He reaches over n’ licks that little splatter- 

“I-I-I-I…” Geto mocks. “I don’t think you’re being truthful, girl~”

“It was you—” You’re yowling- attempting to stand upwards to perhaps get ahold of yourself - but the only thing you’re succeeding in doing is urging Geto to wrap his left arm around your neck and draaaaaaag you right back down. 

You gasp at the sensation of his thick biceps; the firmness and strength held within them; the curves and dips of his muscles. “And who taught you that getting choked like this feels good?”

You’re so woozy- fuck, your head’s throbbing and you’re feeling the wadded-up remnants of cum Geto’s left behind from previous rounds. Harder and harder. Rougher, his balls keep slapping against the front of your sodden folds. “You…”

“And who taught you that this pussy feels better when m’being mean?”

“You—”

“And who’s getting back together with you?”

“You- wait, what?”

“Heh.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - 92% MATCH!

Name: Kamo (Itadori) Choso

Age: ?*

Occupation: Student

Category: Hey, hey, hey EMO BOY!

Primary likings: Subbing. Getting pussydrunk. Shooting blanks. (For a more detailed report on sexual proclivities and medical assessment, please see Page 14 onwards…)

*Client became nervous after seeing the diagrams of sexual positions in the following forms and could not answer (EDIT: Later confirmed 23 but spiritually 150 (?)).

“Him?”

Dr. Shoko sits statuesquely before you. No change in her expression. Not even the slightest twitch in her fingers as she flips through your documents one more time.

After a moment of silence, she takes a deep breath and asks. “Erm- my apologies, but would I be right in assuming that you’re not attracted to hi-”

“No—no, no, no, no, no-” 

“Ah- well, that’s one way to pass on a match-”

“No- that’s- that’s not what I meant.” Red-hot embarrassment, shot through with a spike of excitement once your eyes drop down to the profile of the man once more, curdles in your chest. And you’re sure you look quite frantic attempting to rescind…perhaps everything you’ve blurted out in the past five minutes. Dr. Shoko raises a brow. “Of course, I’m attracted to him.”

A knowing smile tugs at her lips. “Oh?”

“Yeah- of course.” You cough out. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Piercings glinting on his ears, snakebites on his lips, and a nervous - almost sheepish, but with a bring-your-daughter-home-at-2AM defiance - expression on his face. Just your type. “He’s perfect, actually.”

Dr. Shoko puts her documents down on the table and crosses her legs. “Then what seems to be the problem?”

“It’s just…I kinda know him?” You’re wincing. “We go to the same university- he does Japanese History, and I’ve seen him ‘round in the Anime Club.”

She hums. “Mm, you seem to know a lot about him.”

You almost sputter- “J-just as much as the average person would…But the thing is that on campus he just looks a little…different? I guess? Imagine your typical nerd—glasses, vests, knows one too many things about Tolkien, cute.” Dr. Shoko throws you a look—nerds were a close second on your list of types, okay?! And you’d always believed Choso was cute even before all this sprucing up.  “Anyways. That sort of thing.” And then you’re taking a second look at the photograph on his profile - maybe the distance would help you see him clearly? And nothing. “And now…”

Everything else matched up.

It was just in his photograph where he looked like he belonged in an early 2000’s emo band.

You let out a slight gasp. “Is he catfishing m-”

“No. Although that would be a little entertaining to see…” Dr. Shoko mutters that last part to herself- “However, Mr. Kamo has shown up to every appointment in exactly this style. Could it be that perhaps he prefers one style for university, and the other in private?”

“Probably.” You sigh. And you see that look on her face- you know that look on her face. “Oh, fine. We both know I want you to match us.”

.

.

.

“Fuh-fuck pleeeease—” Veins, reddened and irritated, snake down the expanse of Choso’s neck - and you’re not surprised. Not when Choso kept twitchin’ and bucking with every single fwop! of your cunt slamming down onto his hips, letting his cock rover deeeeeply inside.

Oh-so-deeply.

You’ve got the poor man sat up against the headboard of this crappy love hotel. You’ve got his face pushed between your tits, as you’re bouncing your hips up and down. Up and down. Up and down.

Cute suctioning noises let off where he’s glued his mouth to one of your tits, letting his cheeks hollow as he suckles. “Please- ngh.” Unabashed tears roll down Choso’s cheeks, “Do you really think I can cum again?” Ending his sentence with a single jagged thrust inside your gooey depths.

“But of course.” You purr—purr. It’s enough to make Choso shudder, ravenous cock twitching. “Because I said so. And what did I say about me saying so?”

“M-mommy’s always right when she says so…” He responds- cheeks burning such a sweltering red. 

“Hah…” Leaning down you kiss him- at least, it starts off a kiss. But soon enough you have your tongue sliding across his bottom lip, playing with the sexy snake bites that pierce through the nerd’s lower lip. Always with his nose stuck in a book—you’re kicking yourself for not noticing the holes sooner. “Not so tough now, are you?”

You’ve been teasing him for what feels like eons - but in reality has been about two…maybe three…maybe seven rounds cooped-up inside this love hotel - now; and it’s enough to set Choso on all sorts of edges. Choso can’t speak. Choso can’t form a single thought. Choso can’t control his body- what the fuck he can’t…Unable to stop himself from constantly yearning that sweet pressure that comes from striking the flat surface of the back of your pussy—

His hips are stinging. But he’s still pushing and pushing and pushing. 

“Just one more, then?” He asks. Tears in his eyes.

“Awwww- you really are an emo boy. I can’t believe you had the entire campus fooled for years now.” You snicker- watching as his eyes narrow…first in exasperation, and then in ecstacy as you’re squeezing ‘round his cock. “Mhm. Just one more- mommy has to reward you for losing your virginity, doesn’t she?” You ask. Expectedly, Choso nods and nods.

That had been the entire reason for his participation in this program, it seems - the poor thing wanted to get some experience. And you couldn’t blame him—nor be nice to him. According to his profile, Choso liked it when he was fucked hard- no experience and already thinking like a freak, huh? He was definitely your type.

Tapping at your chin in an exaggerated display of thinking.

“But mommy’s wondering….where is my nerd gonna cum?”

His eyes go wide. Breath hitching, “Please-”

“I mean- maybe you could pull out and I could milk you onto the blanket—?” Dramatically, the other man’s lower lip quivers as a sob threatens to break through. So many rounds and he still hadn’t cum inside - you’d gotten him everywhere: on your stomach, on your tits, between your thighs, on your tongue. Everywhere but inside. “Hmmm. Nope.”

He perks up.

“How about my mouth again?”

Choso shakes his sweaty head.

“I wanted to- hngh—” It’s so tough for him to speak when he’s actively trying not to fall apart at the seams.

“Oh, what’s that?” Your eyes go wide. “Don’t feelin’ my mouth wrapped around your cock, Choso- is it?”

He shudders at the mere imagery of that. Every single thrust had him threatening to spill inside—those gossamer ribbons were flooding your entrance n’ starting to drip down your thighs. “No-”

“No?”

“No, no, no, no—I love your mouth-” He sputters. “-m-mommy…” And even though it’s already been so long, Choso was still wearing those chunky rings depicting skulls and such on- gliding them up and down your back soothingly. “I love every part of you. But I just really…really…really wanted to cum inside this time-” Peeking up at you through tear-stained lashes. “…if that’s okay with you?”

He looked so pretty, it was hard not to cave in then and there.

But you had to stand firm. “Nuh uh…I don’t know.” Tapping at your chin once more. “M’honestly a little hurt that you’d hide this emo side of yourself, Choso.” Leaning down to whisper into his ear- his silver studs glint. “Especially when emo boys with big dicks just make me sooooooo fuckin’ wet—”

Choso startles as though he’d been electrocuted. “I-if I’d known that then I would’ve told you in a heartbeat, mommy-”

“Ah, sweet-talking me now?” You wave. “What other secrets are you hiding, Mr. Kamo Choso?”

And it’d been a rhetorical question, something to make your poor boy squirm—honestly! But perhaps you should’ve expected that with Choso’s fried, pussydrunken brain he wouldn’t have caught onto the toying tone of your voice. That he would’ve blushed- and confessed.

“A-actually the only reason I joined was to get experience-” You raise a brow as you’d already known that. “-so that if- when I actually found the courage to ask someone out, then I’d be less likely to disappoint them in bed…”

Your lips quiver. “Oh, Cho.”

And then you’re wrapping your arms around Choso’s head - pushing his face deeper into your clammy tits, skin-against-skin - you’re running your fingers through his hair, soothing, as Choso keeps fuckin’ away into you.

You whisper against his clammy forehead, “Cum inside, baby.”

And he does with a broken groan—long, lengthy ribbons of cum decorating the interior of your cunt. “Th-thank you, mommy.” He whimpers.  They cling onto the outer ring of your entrance- which Choso has to push inside with a flicker of his thumb. The heat floods you instantly - bursts and bubbles of warmth spreading from your core, every single time that Choso twitches with another pang of pleasure- and his cockhead bursts out in cum.

Choso might be an utter sweetheart, but his cock was not-

He thwacks! out a few more creamy wads, and when he’s finally done and shooting blanks- Choso accumulates those dollops on the tip of his cock all to smear them at the bottom of your pussy. That sweet, sweet cervix.

“C-can I tell you another secret, baby?” He sobs.

“Of course, Choso.”

“You. It’s you.”

You free him from your embrace to look at him properly.

“It’s you that I’ve been wanting to ask out.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - HE MATCHED?!

“Wait- who…?”

“The King of Curses.” Dr. Shoko responds with a straight face. Too straight. You needed her to crack a smile- you needed her to tell you that this was a joke. “At least—that’s what he calls himself, and we did have to track down his records to find out his actual name.”

Name: ITADORI (RYOMEN) SUKUNA

Age: 32

Occupation: ‘It’s complicated’.

Category: Rough n’ tough

Primary likings: ROUGH. Partners in lingerie. DP. (For a more detailed report on sexual proclivities and medical assessment, please see Page 55 onwards…)

“What does he mean by his occupation being…‘it’s complicated’?” You squint at the man’s profile.

“He wanted to put ‘King of Curses’ for that, too.” Dr. Shoko takes a long swig of her coffee. “Goodness knows I couldn’t figure that out even with a PhD. But it’s a lot more flattering than putting ‘Loitering’, isn’t it?”

“He loiters.” You ask.

“Hopefully a forgivable crime.” She nods.

And, sure, you didn’t give a shit about the loitering—what instead caught your attention was the little matchmaking measurement that was on the top of the page. Or at least supposed to be. Instead of a percentage like all your previous passes had, this time was greeted you instead was a simple note: MATCH MADE!

And underneath it was a few semi-erased notes from who you assume to be the matchmakers spelling out- ‘Thank goodness.’ ‘We thought the day would never come-’ ‘Take him off our hands, please!!’

Dr. Shoko catches you staring at them and promptly shuts your file for you. “It’s just ah- your match seems to have a bit of a…reputation here, you see?”

You ask, “A reputation? Is he some weirdo?”

“Well that’s one way of putting it…” She mutters to herself-

“What was that-”

“Nothing!” Dr. Shoko clears her throat, and smooths her mask of professionalism. “To be quite frank with you, Sukuna was one of our first clients—and we’ve been operational for quite some time now, and yet Sukuna never matched with anyone. If it wasn’t an extremely low percentage, then a match didn’t get past the interview stage- especially because Sukuna himself can be a little…intimidating. At one point we just started showing him the profiles first, expecting pass after pass.” She gives you a meaningful look. “But for the first time, it seems, the King of Curses has found himself interested.”

You don’t know how to interpret the little quirk of a smirk on her lips. “I see.” Flipping the file back open, you’re taking in those smoldering crimson eyes, that pink hair. He was handsome, that was for sure- and he sounded like such a character.

You can’t help but find yourself, perhaps, a little interested as well.

“But of course, it’s completely up to you. And I can pass this one and get some more matches lined up if-”

“Nah. No need to pass, Dr. Shoko.”

.

.

.

“Now do a little spin f’me- atta girl.”

Just about three dates - and you’d discovered that the pink-haired man honestly wasn’t too bad. A little eccentric- alright, very eccentric. He spoke in extremely old-fashioned Japanese and knew far too much about cannibalism, but other than that you thought him to be just fine. Handsome, too.

Just an hour into your romantic dinner at that one fancy French restaurant downtown. Just a glance at the nearby love hotel before you’re both huddling inside one cramped room, Sukuna tugging off his coat before he bore you with a strappy black lingerie set.

It barely covered…well, anything.

And that seemed to be just how he liked it.

Not even needing to tug those panties of yours to the side before he’s pressin’ his plump tip against your pussylips. Both so sensitive that the contact makes you hiss—and your eyes are rolling to the back of your head as soon as he starts to enter. “O-ohhh-”

“Hey- hey—” Of course, it’s not long before you’re feeling one of his roughened hands come and lightly tap your cheeks. It makes you snap out of your little daze and discover that Sukuna had entered a few inches - barely halfway through - but it still felt like he was touching your deepest throat. “Ya have the King of Curses right before you and you’re not even looking at him? Tch-”

Without warning, he pummels just a little deeper. Just a tender caress of his zig-zagging veins along your wet channel-

“C’mon, woman—” Sukuna grumbles. “Literally what could be so interesting inside the back of yer skull? Look at me- look at how well m’fucking you.”

“S-so good…”  You’re blabbering out, as soon as your senses are returning. Because the stark sensation of Sukuna streaking your insides was mind-numbing - you don’t think you’ve ever taken anyone this big before. 

“Never?” Fuck- you said that out loud?! His smirk makes your heart race- honed canines all on display. “Well buck up, brat.” He taps the side of your hips - and too late does it register as a signal to fuck your hips back down onto his pummeling ones. Funneling your cunt so fucking tight with all his inches. “Because if it takes you this long ta take me regularly, then we might just be here all night trying to get you to take…heh-”

The hairs on your body raise. 

You bite down on your lower lip. “Your…second one?”

Sukuna chuckles. “No.” Reaching upwards - not caring if it’s making your hamstrings scream so deliciously at the stretch - Sukuna leans his sticky forehead against yours n’ kisses your lips. Tongue and all. He finally whispers as he parts, “It’ll be yours.”

And just a few more thrusts, a few more whack-whack-whacks! of his thickened cock reaching your deepest depths possible. He was just so big and his thrusts were just so vicious—you’re floating through a haze of pleasure when you feel it…that cold press of silicone against your precious orifice.

You’re jerking up with a yelp. “Shit- hngh, you’re putting it in now?”

“Hah? Duh.” Sukuna scoffs. “Why? Unless you don’t wish to-”

“I’m just wondering what took you so long.”

Sukuna seems stunned for one second- two. Before the King quickly snaps out of it to pleasure the sopping line of your cunt with his silicone dildo—“Dirty girl.”

Because what’d intrigued you the most on his profile was one thing: double penetration. And Ryomen Sukuna took it seriously—he’d slathered that impressive size - molded after himself, he’d told you - with a passion fruit-scented lube before starting to crown it at your entrance. The very same pussy he was stuffed in, too.

His cock throbs away wildly inside you as Sukuna squeezes- and squeezes. And you wince at the mixture of pain and pleasure - that utterly wiiiiiild stretch making your mind dazed. “Keep going.” You beg. “P-please- keep going, Kuna—”

“Kuna?” You can’t tell if he’s feigning outrage or he’s serious. He tugs your body into his- using one of your lingerie straps. “How ridiculous- fuck, and just for that- don’t expect me to go easy on ya, brat.”

And then it’s both. At the same time.

He started off nicely—surprisingly. He started off just shuffling his thick, throbbing cock behind and stuffing the orifice of your cunt with the purple-colored dildo. He started off so-

And then you’d gotten just a tad too mouthy and Sukuna’s letting the globular, slick-glazed edge of the dildo rover all over - aaaaaall around the first ring of your entrance, and then smearing apart your channel to search for your sweet spots inside. Competing - fucking competing - with his own cock to massage your spots the best. It takes one hand clawed onto your hip n’ pinning you down with all his weight to actually squirm the dildo inside you.

Shivers run down Sukuna’s spine as he feels his sensitive shaft rub against the firm silicone. Uuuuuuup rubbin’ his skin against the material. And down. Uuuuup and down. Uuuuup and down. 

Fucking you twice over. 

Such looooong and lecherous slides of your overstuffed pussy- “Look at her go.” The King drags you back using a strappy ribbon from your lingerie, glances down and snickers. “She’s just so hungry, huh?”

“C-can feel you all the way in my throat.” You whimper.

“That’s nothing, wait till you feel me in your cervix.”

And he’s bottoming out. Twice. 

“Fuck, how I’m glad you found me.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - INFINITY% MATCH?!

Dr. Ieiri Shoko sits before you in her office, and she looks as though she wished she was doing anything but.

Now, you’re sure this wasn’t anything personal - after all, you’ve met with Dr. Shoko for numerous appointments prior, and each time she’d been cordial if not nice. You’ve filled out all your forms. You haven’t been late to an appointment. You made sure during each appointment to be open-minded and thoughtful about your potential matches.

So…what?

What could have happened in the thirty-six hours between your last appointment (six passes that day) and the sudden frantic phone call you’d gotten this morning regarding the BIG BANG THEORY PROJECT? You’d rushed over - still half-asleep and attempting to tug on your pants - as soon as you could, sure that perhaps today would be the day you find your perfect match and-

“Ehem- today is the day you’ll be looking over your perfect match.” Ah- what? Still jolted by Dr. Shoko’s sudden change in demeanor, it takes a second for the excitement to hit you. 

You gasp. “Seriously? A perfect match?”

“Well…perfect would be overselling it…” She mutters to herself- and then catches your look of confusion. “Ah- mathematically and scientifically, the numbers are perfect of course. A 99.99% match.”

“Then, what seems to be…”

“It just seems that your match is a little-” Dr. Shoko waves her hands in the air, searching for the word. 

“Eccentric?”

“No.”

“Odd?”

“No.”

“Crazy.”

“Almost.” She sighs, looking far more exhausted than the last time you saw her. Far more exhausted. The bluish splotches beneath her eyes crinkle as she grimaces, “Apologies. I’m not that good at describing Lovecraftian monsters.”

You chuckle- before you realize. “Wait, what?”

“But—onto the profiles, we don’t have all day and I have about thirty more appointments.” She shoots you a look. “And none of them above 60%, I fear.” Then turning towards her second door - the one connecting her office to one of the building’s laboratories - she calls. “You can come out now!”

The door clicks open immediately- as if whoever was on the other side had been waiting impatiently to be called, fidgeting, hand already on the door handle.

And in walks a tall, white-haired man—although he couldn’t have been more than thirty or so, wearing a sterile white scientist’s coat and thin-rimmed glasses. There were a few Digimon stickers on his shoes, and his name tag read: PROF. GOJO SATORU.

He was cute- you had to give him that.

Dr. Shoko takes one look at your face and sighs.

You’re immediately straightening up. “E-erm, hello.” And the man bows rapidly- sputtering out greetings and introductions a mile a minute, that you don’t even catch them. “Ah…I believe you have my match profile?”

The other woman smacks her forehead. “He is your match profile.”

You gape. “What?”

Gojo practically beams- fuck, he really was too cute. He immediately reaches over and grasps your hand—then unabashedly kisses the back of it. Such a loud mwah! “Your pleasure to meet me, sweetheart.”

From the corner of your vision, you see Dr. Shoko download a resignation letter template. “Please…you’re all he’s been talking about for the past two days-”

“Like a true romantic~” Gojo trills.

“-pass on him and put us all out of our misery…please. I beg of you.”

You look at the miserable Shoko- and then you look at Gojo.

.

.

.

“So…” Gojo’s breath sticks to the side of your neck, utterly syrupy, and his cock sticks to the goopy insides of your cunt. 

They wouldn’t have been able to pull him out with a wrench, he can tell you that much-

Because you were swallowing him up whole—little mewls leaving the gap between your lips, little dribbles of slick going down the corners of your mouth - ones he’s nearing towards and licking right off your face. Gojo’s chunky glasses crush against the side of your temple. His fingers dig deeper into your soft flesh. “-it seems I have fallen victim to my own creation.”

Gojo Satoru had you pushed against his clinical desk; it’d been long since Dr. Shoko had wrapped-up your first meeting (and gone to take a lay-down on her examination bed). Meanwhile Gojo had valiantly volunteered to give you ‘an insightful and educational’ tour around the laboratories.

The first place he took you to was his private office.

…The first place he took you to, neither of you could keep your hands off each other.

“Th-the program?” You’re babbling. Your hands grasp the edge of his desk- a plumage of documents soar upwards as you’re struggling and failing a few times- he was just fucking you so good. “How are you falling victim—”

“Because when I wanted to figure out a way to lose my virginity, I didn’t expect it to be this good—!” Gojo bursts out in confession. And you’re feeling the full impact of his statement- and the rough slam of his cockhead against the back of your pussy.

“S-so this was all…” Your mouth gapes - and you’re not quite sure whether it was because of the sudden confession, or the increasing force of his hips. “-a scheme to pop your cherry?!”

“Erm, actually- I wouldn’t say scheme—” Gojo huffs. Those thick-framed glasses of his kept sliding down his nose due to the force of his thrusts, and he was smearing his pretty face against your shoulder to keep pushing it up. “I am- was a virgin, heh…”

He takes a glance down at where the two of you were sloppily connected - those swollen folds of yours spread so wiiiiiide open around his long cock - and instantly, he’s hypnotized.

For a beat.

Two.

“—Satoru.” Honestly- you have to give him a good clench to snap him back to his senses. Otherwise you’re sure he would’ve kept funneling you full of his cock until one or both of your bodies gave out—he just seemed addicted. Tingling with desire. He wanted you. He needed you. 

Every single second he was reeling his hips back- Gojo was angry just until he could rover his thickened inches back inside n’ bash your very cervix. Again. And again. And again and again. 

And Gojo’s pushing his glasses up with a huff. “What if I was having a telepathic conversation with your pussy?”

You gape. “Shoko’s right, you’re crazy-”

“Yeah yeah-” He sighs as if he’s heard that one before. Many, many times. With a roll of those blue eyes, Gojo keeps explaining - not slowing down for a single split-second. “I was a virgin with too much time between my extra credits and three honors degrees, okay? So instead of being a lunatic and going out to actually meet people, I did what any sane person would do…” 

“Create the BIG BANG THEORY PROJECT-”

“I created the BIG BANG THEORY PROJECT!” It was almost…cute just how passionate he was getting. And it certainly helped that the more excited he got, the more his twitchin’ tip splurged out precum. Flinching it into all sorts of little hidden spots inside you—“A cutting-edge matchmaking system that pairs partners’ sexual proclivities-”

He leans against you- and it feels like a furnace, in the best way. Gojo’s blushing cheek against yours. Gojo’s aching cock against your cunt. 

He’s scouring the silken depths of your cunt and ramming into that one spot- “The Gräfenberg spot.” Gojo titters to himself. “Erm- I did my reading…” By now he wasn’t even pulling his hips off of yours- glued to those stinging ass cheeks of yours, he’s plasterin’ every nook inside you with his precum. “And the fact that we’re a near-100% match must mean one thing—” 

Gojo cums from pure excitement.

He cums from pure excitement. White-hot pouring into the depths of your cunt, slathering it in an oily layer of his cum.

You almost don’t dare to ask. “And wh-what does that mean?”

“That next I must make a pregnancy program!”

Too caught up in the moment; the two of you don’t register the light buzz of your phone.

A text from Shoko.

A/N. IDK why working on their profiles was so unserious shsdhsd-

“liar.” he taunts, his thumb finding your clit to rub it in fast circles while his hips continue to snap against yours, the wet, filthy slap of your bodies meeting echoing in the quiet room. he’s relentless, knees deep in the mattress as he reduces you to a cockdrunk writhing mess, each thrust meant to leave you with nothing to focus on except the pleasure he’s forcing into you.

“nononono i can’t, s’too much—” you whine.

“you can. you've done it before, haven't you? you're gonna keep coming for me until i say you can stop."

you're a complete wreck now - lightheaded and sobbing openly under him, every muscle in your body coiled tight and begging for a break. your inner walls pulse and clench rhythmically around tamsy's cock, swallowing the thick length with every ruthless thrust of his hips.

“i hate you!” you wail, your hands coming to hit and push at his scarred chest. “i hate you, i hate you, i hate you!”

"woah, woah—" tamsy’s eyes widen in false offense, his hips and thumb stilling altogether, allowing you a fleeting moment of relief. "no, no, no, don't be like that. don't say such things." he coos, reaching out to swipe his thumb underneath your eye, wiping away a stray tear. "you wound me, princess. all that screaming and whining but i don't recall hearing your safe word, do you?"

before you can gather a breath to retort, tamsy drives his hips forward, slamming into you so deep you swear it makes you black out for a second. a shocked moan punches out of you - your eyes rolling back in your skull and drool dripping from the corner of your lips as your mind goes entirely blank, thoughts turning into complete mush.

"besides..." he muses, holding himself on his arms and leaning down just long enough to press a sweet kiss to your cheek. "i think you’re enjoying yourself a lot more than you’re willing to admit." a slow, arrogant smirk curves his mouth as he smoothes his thumb over your lower lip. "you should be thanking me, i'm just being a good boyfriend and spoiling you.”

he's so infuriatingly calm as he taunts you, looking down as he brings his thumb back to your clit and goes back to toying with it, blinking calmly like the sight barely even affects him.

for the past hour, every time he felt himself edging too close to his own release you’ve watched him switch tactics - his cock withdrawing so he could torment your clit with his mouth or finger you instead, only sinking back in when his orgasm was successfully kept at bay.

he refuses to let himself come until he’s stripped away every last thread of your sanity, maintaining a terrifying level of restraint while you're trapped in the same continuous loop of torture, orgasm after orgasm being ripped out of you mercilessly.

“no— nonono, it's too much!" you hiccup. "tamsy I can't take any more—” you try again, shaking your head furiously as your legs start to close and kick. your elbows dig into the mattress as you try to pull yourself away again, a fresh wave of tears blurring your vision and falling down your cheeks, your muscles trembling so violently you can barely control them.

a low, amused snicker bubbles up from tamsy’s chest as he watches you miserably fail another attempt to run from him, his hands clamping tightly around your hips to drag you right back where you belong.

“shh-shh-shh. either be good or say the magic word, angel. it's that easy.”

he starts fucking you again, giving a series of fast thrusts that immediately silence you. one of his hands wraps around your throat to keep you pinned firmly to the mattress, the other continuing to rub your clit, gradually building a fifth— or is it sixth? orgasm. your legs have a mind of their own at this point, shaking uncontrollably in the air, toes curling, the depth of his thrusts shattering whatever remnant of self control you had left.

his cock eventually slips free, dragged out by the sheer amount of slick between you. the sudden emptiness causes you to cry out, your hands flying down instinctively to shield your swollen pussy from his gaze.

“put it back in.” tamsy commands smoothly, still impossibly composed, chest barely even heaving.

a tiny humiliated whine escapes your throat but your hand responds to his voice like muscle memory, fingers trembling as they obediently reach further down to guide the thick, weeping head of his cock right back to your entrance.

tamsy watches you do it, that sadistic smirk of his spreading across his face as he sheaths himself all the way back into your warmth.

“see? you dumb little liar, can't even get enough.” he purrs, rubbing your clit one last time before bringing the slick pad of his thumb to his mouth to taste you. “come on now. give me another one so i can fill you up.”

that single comment haunted him up until this very day... because, shit, yeah, you did mark him up, didn't you? he didn't ever plan to get tatted by anyone else except you; your work is absolutely beautiful, and he gets to be in your company for hours. damn, that did something to him, because now every time he looks at his tattoos, he thinks of you.

he's ashamed at how many times he spilled himself into his hand that night with a muffled moan of your name.

"you with me, blondie? want me to keep going?"

it took him a moment to realize he got lost in his thoughts for a bit, his breathing finally under control. he nodded rapidly, tongue swiping over his bottom lip as he runs a hand through his hair.

"y...yeah," he's out of breath, he doesn't even know why, "just...was a lot for a second. you're all good now, 'm usually not this sensitive."

"mm, you sure?"

your hand ran over his side, a gesture meant to soothe him, but it just makes him suck in a breath, his head tipping back on the chair. you're mesmerized, a soft smile on your face as you watched his abs move and ripple under your touch, biting your tongue as you watch the conflict flicker across his face.

he's so cute.

your eyes dip down and you see it, the heavy outline of his dick filled out against his leg in his sweats. as if sensing you looking at it, it gives a cute little jump under the fabric as if saying "look at me, hi, hey, look at me!"

he's so, so cute.

you gave a little shrug, drifting back down to where you paused tattooing. "if you say so, big guy. let's get back to it, and don't forget..." the way your eyes seemed to practically glow as you leaned in close, adjusting your grip on the tattoo gun feels dangerous, looking up at him through your lashes. "you can tap out for a break, 'm not mean, jin. i don't wanna break you yet."

it's embarrassing how he whined when the tip of your tattoo gun touches his skin again, barely covered by the hum of the machine. each movement of your hand was purposeful, the lines clean, steady, perfect.

as you traced over the outline of the stencil transfer, your thumb on your free hand traced slow, unconscious circles on his side. the tiny gesture meant to be soothing was dangerous, intimate, and infuriatingly arousing.

enjin was so fucking relieved you were currently focused on what you were doing, and not on his face. he didn't need you to see his eyes flutter shut, the faint pink tinge on his cheeks and ears, the way his teeth dug into his bottom lip. if you could, you'd be teasing the hell out of him, looking so disheveled over a simple tattoo.

but none of that fucking mattered when his dick was right in your face trying to say hello.

"easy, big guy," you purred, god, you sound so good when you talk to him in that low, calm voice when you really get into the zone and, shit, are you talking to him or his dick right now, he's so screwed, backing off a moment to wipe off the bit of ink and blood on his skin. "you keep that grip up on my chair, and you'll rip the armrest off."

embarrassed, he lightened up his grip, not realizing he was digging his nails into it. "sorry, doll, getting lost in thought," he muttered, sighing deeply to try and get his shit together. no, seriously. he needed to get his shit together, you were only on the outline and he was already dying.

"mhm? some thoughts those must be."

it's back to silence, a few deep breaths and he felt…better, calmer. the music in the background helped distract him more, fingers tapping against the armrest of you continued to work in smooth movements, getting back into the zone once you felt him relax back into the chair.

you adjusted your hands once you got to the smaller circles, bracing the free one right on his hip to stabilize yourself better. your hand is so soft, so warm—no, so hot, burning against his skin, unless it was just him? fuck, he couldn't tell, all he knows is you were burning him in the best way possible with your hands.

as you worked, you could feel how his body twitched under his touch, giving a teasing little squeeze as you worked the needle around the curves of the design. you were so focused on the ink and how the black pigment settled into his skin, eyes sharp with intense concentration. but your mind was absolutely swimming with messy, perverted thoughts…none that you were ashamed of either.

you knew what kind of client enjin was. you knew how he usually took ink, and this?

this was different.

this wasn't your usual, talkative, loudly laughing, fake-crying client who couldn't get enough of freaking you out when he fake gasped to make you think you messed up.

no, he was quiet.

so, so quiet.

and the clear visual of his dick print in his sweatpants gave away why he was quiet, sure, but seeing the actual behavioral change, the fact that you could practically smell his arousal mixing with that intoxicating combination of his cologne and the cigarette he had before he sat in your chair was making your head swim.

so who can blame you when you get a chance like this to tease the guy who usually does the teasing and poking? of course you're gonna take full advantage of it.

and he noticed.

you were taking your sweet time, humming to the song playing on the speakers as you continued moving the needle with that practiced precision and overwhelming confidence, eyes taking note of every little reaction he gave with each pass of the machine.

when you began outlining one of the bottom two circles of the design that was more on his pelvis than stomach, you couldn't stop yourself from cooing at the small, choked moan that escaped him, your eyes immediately darting to his face as you lifted the tattoo gun from his skin.

"mm? yeah? right there? sensitive, isn't it?"

that tone in your voice, that teasing, cooing tone…

the shift in the air is palpable, the semi-professional, playful atmosphere has completely evaporated, now replaced by something heavy, thick, and hot.

your eyes flicker to the spot you just touched with your tattoo gun, humming with a tilt of your head before shutting it off and setting it to the side.

"enjin, as your favorite artist, you're getting a mandated break."

picking up the gauze again, you wiped the area you just worked on, touch lingering longer than it needed to be, and much firmer against the sensitive skin, causing him to groan, his hips lifting off the chair just a little bit.

"you're cruel, boo," he hissed, looking at you with hungry, lidded eyes. "so, so fucking cruel."

when you giggle, he has to bite back another noise, the sound shooting right to his dick. this must be some kind of test, some test of willpower. did one of his friends put you up to this? some bet of 'hey, let's see how long it takes for enjin to finally pop a stiffy when getting tattooed by his super hot artist friend'?

"i'm the cruel one? really? when you're the one that's hard as fuck right in front of my face?" your gloved hand grips him through his sweatpants, and he swears he's died and gone to heaven, a stuttered 'oh my god' rushing out of him. you're actually touching him, yeah, through clothes, but fuck, you're touching him.

his attention is dragged back to you when you click your tongue, tilting your head in that infuriatingly cute manner. "how am I supposed to focus, huh? literally your dick is throbbing in my face while i'm touching you, jin."

with a laugh, you start slipping off your gloves, eyes trailing all over his body, all over the black and red ink swirling across his skin, your work, your mark, before falling back to between his legs.

"you gonna be good for me, right, enjin?" you don't look at him, gloves in the trash before you pushed away your rolling cart with your tools on it, giving yourself space to move closer.

he didn't expect you to start tugging his sweats and boxers down, commanding him to lift his hips a bit with a little 'c'mon, hon, up,' before pulling them down enough for his cock to pop right out, tip already sticky and wet from pre-cum.

"oh, jin…" that soft, cooing tone only makes the whole thing worse, a thick spurt shooting out of his tip and all he could do was groan in embarrassment. "s-stop talking to me like tha—aaah, fuck meee…"

you couldn't help yourself, hand wrapping around his impressive length and giving a little squeeze around the base. nice and thick, heavy in your hand too, with the prettiest happy trail that ended where his waistband was. sweet thing, shaved a bit of the top off for you to have easier access to smooth skin for his ink.

using your other hand, you trailed little circles into his tip, absolutely in awe at how hard he was, the head was flushed an angry red and he just wouldn't stop spilling pre all down his shaft.

"jin, you should've said something," you murmured, pout on your lips as you wrap around hands around his cock and start pumping slowly, using the precum to ease the glide. "didn't know you were this hard, we could've taken a break, it looks like it hurts…"

each stroke you give him is slick, you palm dragging over his length sinfully. he chokes on your name, bucking up into your hand when your thumb brushes over his tip to spread more of his precum.

"f-fuck, baby, you're k-killing me—" "shh, jin, keep your hips down for me, baby, jus' like that, i got you."

just hearing you say that nearly makes him black out, one of his arms thrown over his eyes while the other grips the arm rest for dear life, uncaring of how the fabric squeaks under his digits.

you talk so sweet, but you're mean, so fucking mean to him with how you grip him tight in your hands before pausing to drag your thumb right over the underside of his cock head.

he tries to keep his hips still, he really does, but that's just cruel. a noise that sounds like a mix of a choked groan and a whimper pours out of him as his hips spasm upward, desperately chasing the pleasure your insanely hot and insanely soft hands are giving him.

but he's immediately jolted back into reality when one of your hands drags down the sensitive skin on his side, nails scratching him and leaving behind pretty, red lines that you know he's going to be staring at in the mirror for hours later.

"down, 'jin, don't make me say it again, be good for me, before i make you sit like this while i finish your fucking tattoo," you hiss, and he knows you're serious, he knows you'll do it.

"y-yeah, yes ma'am, sorry, i got it, fuck, 'm sorry," he moans, voice guttural and strained as he moves his arm to watch how you touch him, eyes fluttering from the sheer pleasure you're giving him.

the wet schlick, schlick, schlick of your hands only serves to make the burning heat between your thighs grow stronger, because he's this wet just from his own precum. it's so nasty, so pathetic of your usually cocky client, but it only makes you wetter to realize he's like this because of you.

"all worked up like this from me putting my mark on you…you're so cute, enjin," you sigh dreamily, hand around his dick speeding up.

you want to see him fall apart, want to see him break for you, knowing that he trusts you enough to do his tattoos, to create permanent art on his body, to use him as your own personal canvas…and knowing he trusts you enough to touch him like this.

it's something you could get high off.

he's twitching in your hand, and you bite your lip every time you see him hold back, doing his best to keep his hips still just like you asked, like he's trying to be good for you.

"s-shit, i can't, fuck, 'm gonna cum too fucking fast," he whimpers, head falling back onto the chair, "you're hands are t'soft, doll, christ, please, gonna make me cum—!"

he's so gone for you, it's absolutely adorable.

with a soothing shush, you only speed up your hand, the one on his side sliding down to swirl circles into his tip with your thumb, loving the way he nearly screams your name from the onslaught of pleasure.

"mhmm? you're so pretty like this, jin…c'mon, make a mess for me, lemme see how much you like when i mark you up with my art. cum for me, enjin."

but right as he's about to cum, make a mess of your hand and himself, your brain realizes something once your eyes latch onto the sight of his abs flexing as he starts babbling your name…you can't let him cum like this, or else he's gonna get cum all over his fucking raw, unfinished tattoo.

you move so fast he barely can process anything except the wet, hotness around the tip of his dick, before blinking to realize you've popped the tip inside your mouth.

"o-oh, shit—"

his hands are in your hair, pushing you down half way on his cock, moaning pathetically into the air when he feels you choke, throat spasming around the unexpected intrusion as he finally, finally spills himself inside your warm mouth. he pumps out hot, thick ropes as those choked groans continue with each pulse

"thank you, thank you, thank you, oh my god, you're s'fucking good to me, babyyy—"

after the last throb of his cock, he falls limp, a heavy breath leaving the poor guy as he tries to regain his senses. you actually might've made him get a glimpse of what heaven was like, and he doesn't know how he's supposed to continue living on this mortal plane .

he's absolutely fucked.

when you pull off him after a little struggle to swallow the cum that flooded your mouth, you immediately cough, taking a second to recover. you knew he'd probably push you down a bit, but fuck, he's thicker than you realized.

"g-god, jin, you almost killed me with that thing, be careful," you joke, wiping at your mouth as you look up at him, expecting him to still be a little fucked out and regaining this thoughts.

but he's sitting up, eyes wide as he stares at you. "i'm okay, don't worry, just wasn't expecting—"

"you swallowed it."

"…huh?"

his hand grips your wrist tightly, pulling you closer until you both are practically sharing the same air.

"open your mouth."

you don't even get a chance to pull open it before he's doing it for you by shoving his fingers in your mouth, other hand tugging on your tongue as he literally inspects your mouth, uncaring of how your drool is coating his fingers, starting to drip down his wrist. he snaps out of it when you whine, eyes a bit glassy as you look at him with pinched brows.

now you're the one who's flustered and fuzzy brained.

"holy fuck…you swallowed my cum, all of it, just like that? shit, baby girl, c'mere."

he's pulling you into a deep kiss, not hesitating to take advantage of your stunned state to slip his tongue inside, wet little smacks from each time he pulls away just to dive right back in.

the taste of you is sinful, the faint sweetness of your bubblegum you threw out still lingering, and he can taste the saltiness of his cum still lingering in your mouth.

pulling away just enough to breathe, he's staring deep into your eyes, that pathetic, neediness gone and replaced by a deep, burning hunger, mouth curling into a sadistic little snarl.

"either you wrap up this tattoo for me, or we're gonna see how fast i can get an infected tattoo by fucking you on this damn chair."

you swallow thickly with a nod, reaching for your materials so he doesn't fuck up your hard work…well, what little of it there is since you didn't even get halfway through…but you can feel his stare burning into you, silently waiting for the second you finish to get his hands on you.

Your hands fly up to grasp his shoulders, nails digging into the tatted flesh, all while he drives his cock deeper into you. One of his large hands moves to rub soft circles on your clit, causing you to whine out.

After what feels like forever, he finally bottoms out.

You feel so full, stuffed to the brim with his dick.

Enjin presses light kisses along your jaw, slowly pulling out before slamming back into you. A loud moan from you bounced off the walls; your body jerked with the force.

His pace was brutal; he impaled you over and over, rough hands gripping your thighs and locking you in place. “Look at you,” he cooed, “taking me so well, and you said you couldn't take it.”

You could only muster a hoarse ‘please’ at his words. Enjin moved your legs from his shoulders and wrapped them around his waist, leaning down to move his ear closer to your mouth, “What was that, baby?” He teased, chuckling as you whined and tugged at his hair. “Bratty little thing, aren't you?”

You felt your orgasm build with every mean snap of his hips against yours, his leaky tip smooched your cervix with every thrust. Your head spun, and your stomach tightened.

Enjin’s eyes scanned your body, taking in every perfect imperfection. That's when he noticed it, the small bump that appeared on your stomach every time he bottomed out. “What's this?” he mused, pressing his palm down on the bulge. You squirmed, crying out at the feeling, “You're so… so deep.”

He hummed, tracing the swell with one of his fingers before placing his palm down again to continue fucking into you. “Yeah? You can feel me all the way in there, can't you?” His pupils were blown wide, crazed even as he watched the bulge disappear and reappear with every thrust.

The sensation was overwhelming; your orgasm was so close you could practically taste it.

Without warning, you snapped, cumming on his dick while he continued pistoning into you. Enjin groaned lowly at the way your pussy fluttered around his length, “Fuck, what a good girl. You can give me another, right?” His thumb traced your clit lazily, causing you to jolt.

A sob escaped you at the overstimulation. He continued his brutal pace while now also torturing your poor clit. “Enjin — ah — Enjin, I can't take it —” he cut you off with a harsh thrust, “You can and you will.”

Your body shook as hot tears slipped down your cheeks, your legs shook around his waist, but he didn't care; it spurred him on. “So fucking tight, god, what're they feeding you?” He joked, dropping his head to suck at your nipple, lapping over the hardened bud with his tongue.

One, two more thrusts later, Enjin came with a shaky moan of your name, causing you to tip over the edge once more.

He watched the bulge disappear from your stomach as he pulled out, saving a mental image of his cum that spilt out right after. “We might have to do some size training with you, doll. Nearly clamped my dick off,” he laughed, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek.”

“No, Enjin, you're just comically huge. No, it's not a compliment.”

“Whatever you say, doll.”

a/n: first time writing for dada kind of nervy

then he pulled his fingers out with a pop!

“what the—"

“show’s done.”

you looked back up at the tv, white text scrolling against the black background.

“you ready to finally give me some love?” he asked as if he was some kind of neglected animal and not a fully grown man with enough responsibilities to make you gag.

you looked back up at the tv, advert for crunchy granola replacing the episode you had basically half watched.

you huffed.

"fine. but you're doing all the work 'cause you made me miss my episode. how am i supposed to know what samir did about the blocked toilet?"

"baby i always do all the work." and as if to prove a point he picked you up from the couch and tossed you over his shoulder.

"oh and he cut it up. like with a knife and fork."

"...seriously?"

"tried using conditioner first. did not work out."

a/n :: just finished s1 of adults and i quite literally cannot wait until s2 oh my godddd

and with the way he was fucking you, he might as well have been. 

"don’t gotta lie to me," eren grunts, his voice a low vibration against the shell of your ear. he revels in the sweet way you react to his every whim, savoring the shaky wave of your breath hitching when he stretches you wide open on his cock, thick and throbbing with need. god, it missed you. he missed you. 

"you won't take me back? hmm, baby?” his hips roll forward in that precise way that always brushes your clit enough to make your body jolt. he smiles to himself when you do, runs his tongue over the peak of his canine. “nooo, erennn— n-no . . nghhh!” “never? really? c’mon, princess . . . hurtin’ my feelings. don’t you love me?" he drives in hard, punishingly deep, until you can only gasp out broken pleas. he knows you well enough to understand you need it faster. your head sinks into the bamboo fluff of your pillow, eyes fluttering shut as his perfect, perfect name finally breaks past your lips, and you gnaw on the bottom one as though you’ve betrayed yourself by saying it. a dark, triumphant look crosses his face once you yield.

he thinks it's time you accepted it — the two of you are inevitable. and looking at the state of you, it’s hard to tell him he’s wrong. 

"fuck. you’re takin’ me so well, baby. juuust like you used to. i’ve fucked you up for anyone else, haven’t I? no wonder you came running back to me . . . i’m the only one you want. no other man can make you feel like this, can they?” 

you couldn’t argue, couldn't even find the words. all you could manage to do was cling to him, breathing in that familiar scent of amber and pine, letting the solid strength in his arms and the searing heat of his body consume you; biting your lip at the way he handles you with just the right amount of rough, consuming, and raw. 

fuck your life. fuck your ex. he’s settled back into the spaces he once occupied, and it only took cumming on him — all at the coaxing nudge of his low voice telling you to let go — for you to realize his presence was something you couldn't stand to lose again. 

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